The Mousetrap and Other Plays

  When the CURTAIN rises, the stage is in darkness, then the LIGHTS come up to show the house shrouded in darkness and the terrace bathed in moonlight. The long stool is on the sofa and both are covered with a dust sheet. The armchairs are also covered with dust sheets. The window curtains are closed. After a few moments, voices are heard off up C.

  CARLA. (off) Which way do we go?

  MEREDITH. (off) This way, mind that little step. (He is heard to stumble) I always used to fall over it.

  JUSTIN. (off; stumbling) Good heavens! Shall I leave the door?

  MEREDITH. (off) Few things as depressing as an unlived-in house. I do apologize.

  (MEREDITH enters up C and the LIGHTS on the room snap up. He wears an overcoat, and has an old fishing hat, pulled down. He moves down R. CARLA follows Meredith on. She wears a loose coat and a head scarf. She moves L. JUSTIN enters last. He carries his bowler hat. He moves down C, turns and looks around the room)

  This is what we call the garden room. Cold as a morgue. Looks like a morgue, too, doesn’t it? (He laughs and rubs his hands) Not that I’ve ever seen the inside of a—hum . . . I’ll just remove these. (He goes to the sofa and removes the dust sheet)

  JUSTIN. Let me help you. (He moves to L of the sofa and takes the dust sheet from Meredith)

  (CARLA moves to the armchair L and removes the dust sheet which she gives to Justin)

  MEREDITH. This bit of the house has been shut up, you see, ever since . . . (He indicates the long stool on the sofa) Ah, that’s an old friend. (He takes the stool from the sofa) Let me see, I think it went somewhere there. (He places the stool RC) It’s sad, somehow. It was so alive, once, and now it’s dead.

  (CARLA sits on the left end of the stool and looks at the portrait)

  CARLA. Is that the picture?

  MEREDITH. What? Yes. Girl in a yellow shirt.

  CARLA. You left it here?

  MEREDITH. Yes. I—somehow couldn’t bear to look at it. It reminded me too much . . . (He recollects himself, crosses to the french windows and opens the curtains)

  CARLA. How she’s changed.

  MEREDITH. (turning) You’ve seen her?

  CARLA. Yes.

  MEREDITH. (crossing to the armchair R and removing the dust sheet) I haven’t seen her for years.

  CARLA. She’s beautiful still. But not like that. So alive and triumphant—and young. (She draws a breath and faces front) It’s a wonderful portrait.

  MEREDITH. Yes—(he points L) and that is where he painted her—out there on the terrace. Well, I’ll just dispose of these—(he takes the dust sheets from Justin) in the next room, I think.

  (MEREDITH exits R. CARLA rises, goes to the french windows, unlocks them and moves onto the terrace. JUSTIN looks at her, then follows and stands on the step just outside the windows)

  CARLA. Justin—do you think this scheme of mine is quite crazy? Jeff thinks I’m mad.

  JUSTIN. (crossing to the exit above the pergola and looking off) I shouldn’t let that worry you.

  (MEREDITH enters down R and crosses to the french windows)

  CARLA. (sitting on the bench) I don’t.

  MEREDITH. I’ll just go and meet the others.

  (MEREDITH exits up C)

  CARLA. You understand, don’t you, just what I want done?

  JUSTIN. (crossing to R) You want to reconstruct in your mind’s eye what happened here sixteen years ago. You want each witness in turn to describe the scene in which they participated. Much of it may be trivial and irrelevant, but you want it in full. (He moves to her) Their recollections, of course, will not be exact. In a scene where more than one witness was present, the two accounts may not agree.

  CARLA. That might be helpful.

  JUSTIN. (doubtfully) It might—but you must not build too much on it. People do recollect things differently. (He moves upstage and looks around)

  CARLA. What I’m going to do is to make believe I see it all happening. I shall imagine my mother and my father . . . (She suddenly breaks (off) You know, I think my father must have been great fun.

  JUSTIN. (moving behind Carla) What?

  CARLA. I think I should have liked him a lot.

  JUSTIN. (turning and peering off down L; dryly) Women usually did.

  CARLA. It’s odd—I feel sorry for Elsa. In that picture in there she looks so young and alive—and now—there’s no life left in her. I think it died when my father died.

  JUSTIN. (sitting below Carla on the bench) Are you casting her as Juliet?

  CARLA. You don’t?

  JUSTIN. No. (He smiles) I’m your mother’s man.

  CARLA. You’re very faithful, aren’t you? Too faithful, maybe.

  (JUSTIN looks at Carla)

  JUSTIN. (after a pause) I don’t really quite know what we’re talking about.

  CARLA. (rising; matter-of-fact) Let’s get back to business. Your part is to look hard for discrepancies—flaws—you’ve got to be very legal and astute.

  JUSTIN. Yes, ma’am.

  (Voices of the others arriving can be heard off up C, with MEREDITH greeting them)

  (He rises) Here they are.

  (CARLA. I’ll go and meet them.

  (CARLA goes into the room and exits C. The lights slowly dim to BLACK-OUT, JUSTIN moves down L, then a spotlight comes up revealing his face. He acts as compere)

  JUSTIN. Now, are we all ready? I will just impress on you once more why we are all here. We want to reconstruct, as far as we can, the happenings of sixteen years ago. We shall endeavour to do this, by asking each person or persons to recount in turn their own part in what went on, and what they saw, or overheard. This should make an almost continuous picture. Sixteen years ago. We shall start on the afternoon of the sixteenth of August, the day before the tragedy took place, with a conversation that Mr. Meredith Blake had with Caroline Crale in the garden room. Out here on the terrace, Elsa Greer was posing for Amyas Crale who was painting her. From that we shall go on to Elsa Greer’s narrative, to the arrival of Philip Blake, and so on. Mr. Meredith Blake, will you begin?

  (The spotlight fades. MEREDITH’S voice can be heard in the darkness)

  MEREDITH. It was the afternoon of the sixteenth of August, did you say? Yes, yes, it was. I came over to Alderbury. Stopped in on my way to Framley Abbott. Really to see if I could pick any of them up later to give them a lift—they were coming over to me for tea. Caroline had been cutting roses, and when I opened the door into the garden room . . .

  (The LIGHTS come up. It is a glorious, hot summer’s day. CAROLINE CRALE is standing in the french windows looking on to the terrace. She carries a trug with roses, etc., and wears gardening gloves. On the terrace, ELSA poses on the bench, facing C. She wears a yellow shirt and black shorts. AMYAS CRALE is seated on a stool C, facing L, before his easel, painting Elsa. His paintbox is on the ground below him. He is a big, handsome man, wearing an old shirt and paint-stained slacks. There is a trolley L of the terrace with various bottles and glasses, including a bottle of beer in an ice-bucket. In the room, a landscape now hangs in place of the portrait. MEREDITH enters up C)

  Hullo, Caroline.

  CAROLINE. (turning) Merry! (She crosses to the stool, puts the trug on it, removes her gloves and puts them in the trug)

  MEREDITH. (closing the door) How’s the picture going? (He crosses to the french windows and looks out) It’s a nice pose. (He moves to L of the stool and takes a rose from the trug) What have we here? “Ena Harkness.” (He smells the rose) My word, what a beauty.

  CAROLINE. Merry, do you think Amyas really cares for that girl?

  MEREDITH. No, no, he’s just interested in painting her. You know what Amyas is.

  CAROLINE. (sitting in the armchair R) This time I’m afraid, Merry. I’m nearly thirty, you know. We’ve been married over six years, and in looks, I can’t hold a candle to Elsa.

  MEREDITH. (replacing the rose in the trug and moving above the stool to L of Caroline) That’s absurd, Caroline. You know that Amyas is really devoted to you and a
lways will be.

  CAROLINE. Does one ever know with men?

  MEREDITH. (close to her and bending over her) I’m still devoted to you, Caroline.

  CAROLINE. (affectionately) Dear Merry. (She touches his cheek) You’re so sweet.

  (There is a pause)

  I long to take a hatchet to that girl. She’s just helping herself to my husband in the coolest manner in the world.

  MEREDITH. My dear Caroline, the child probably doesn’t realize in the least what she’s doing. She’s got an enormous admiration and hero worship for Amyas and she probably doesn’t understand at all that he’s maybe falling in love with her.

  (CAROLINE looks pityingly at him)

  CAROLINE. So there really are people who can believe six impossible things before breakfast.

  MEREDITH. I don’t understand.

  CAROLINE. (rising and crossing to L of the stool) You live in a nice world all your own, Merry, where everybody is just as nice as you are. (She looks at the roses. Cheerfully) My “Erythina Christo Galli” is in wonderful bloom this year. (She crosses to the french windows and goes on to the terrace)

  (MEREDITH follows Caroline on to the terrace)

  Come and see it before you go into Framley Abbott. (She crosses to the upstage end of the pergola)

  MEREDITH. Just you wait till you see my “Tecoma Grandiflora”. (He moves to Caroline) It’s magnificent.

  (CAROLINE puts her fingers to her lips to quieten Meredith)

  CAROLINE. Ssh!

  MEREDITH. What? (He looks through one of the arches of the pergola at Elsa and Amyas) Oh, man at work.

  (CAROLINE and MEREDITH exit by the upstage end of the pergola)

  ELSA. (stretching herself) I must have a break.

  AMYAS. No—no, wait. There—oh, well, if you must.

  (ELSA rises)

  (He takes a cigarette from a packet in the paintbox, and lights it) Can’t you stay still for more than five minutes?

  ELSA. Five minutes! Half an hour. (She moves down L) Anyway, I’ve got to change.

  AMYAS. Change? Change what?

  ELSA. Change out of this. (She crosses above Amyas and stands behind him) We’re going out to tea, don’t you remember? With Meredith Blake.

  AMYAS. (irritably) What a damned nuisance. Always something.

  ELSA. (leaning over Amyas and putting her arms around his neck) Aren’t you sociable!

  AMYAS. (looking up at her) My tastes are simple. (As though quoting) A pot of paint, a brush and thou beside me, not able to sit still for five minutes . . .

  (They both laugh. ELSA snatches Amyas’ cigarette and straightens up)

  ELSA. (drawing on the cigarette) Have you thought about what I said?

  AMYAS. (resuming painting) What did you say?

  ELSA. About Caroline. Telling her about us.

  AMYAS. (easily) Oh, I shouldn’t worry your head about that just yet.

  ELSA. But, Amyas . . .

  (CAROLINE enters down L.)

  CAROLINE. Merry’s gone into Framley Abbott for something, but he’s coming back here. (She crosses below the bench towards the french windows) I must change.

  AMYAS. (without looking at her) You look all right.

  CAROLINE. I must do something about my hands, they’re filthy. I’ve been gardening. Are you going to change, Elsa?

  (ELSA returns the cigarette to Amyas)

  ELSA. (insolently) Yes. (She moves to the french windows)

  (PHILIP enters up C)

  CAROLINE. (moving into the room) Philip! The train must have been on time for once.

  (ELSA comes into the room)

  This is Meredith’s brother Philip—Miss Greer.

  ELSA. Hullo. I’m off to change.

  (ELSA crosses and exits up C)

  CAROLINE. Well, Philip, good journey? (She kisses him)

  PHILIP. Not too bad. How are you all?

  CAROLINE. Oh—fine. (She gestures towards the terrace) Amyas is out there on the terrace. I must clean up, forgive me. We’re going over to Merry’s to tea.

  (CAROLINE smiles and exits up C. PHILIP closes the door after her, then wanders on to the terrace and stands in front of the bench)

  AMYAS. (looking up and smiling) Hullo, Phil. Good to see you. What a summer. Best we’ve had for years.

  PHILIP. (crossing below Amyas to R) Can I look?

  AMYAS. Yes. I’m on the last lap.

  PHILIP. (looking at the painting) Wow!

  AMYAS. (stubbing out his cigarette) Like it? Not that you’re any judge, you old Philistine.

  PHILIP. I buy pictures quite often.

  AMYAS. (looking up at him) As an investment? To get in on the ground floor? Because somebody tells you So-and-so is an up-and-coming man? (He grins) I know you, you old money hog. Anyway, you can’t buy this. It’s not for sale.

  PHILIP. She’s quite something.

  AMYAS. (looking at the portrait) She certainly is. (Suddenly serious) Sometimes I wish I’d never seen her.

  PHILIP. (taking a cigarette from his case) D’you remember when you first told me you were painting her? “No personal interest in her,” you said. Remember what I said? (He grins) “Tell that to the Marines.”

  AMYAS. (overlapping) “Tell that to the Marines.” All right—all right. So you were clever, you cold-blooded old fish. (He rises, crosses to the trolley, takes the bottle of beer from the ice-bucket, and opens it) Why don’t you get yourself a woman? (He pours the beer)

  PHILIP. No time for ’em. (He lights his cigarette) And if I were you, Amyas, I wouldn’t get tied up with any more.

  AMYAS. It’s all very well for you to talk. I just can’t leave women alone. (He grins suddenly)

  PHILIP. How about Caroline? Is she cutting up rough?

  AMYAS. What do you think? (He takes his glass, crosses to the bench and sits on the downstage end) Thank the Lord you’ve turned up, Phil. Living in this house with four women on your neck is enough to drive any man to the loony bin.

  PHILIP. Four?

  AMYAS. There’s Caroline being bloody to Elsa in a well-bred, polite sort of way. Elsa, being just plain bloody to Caroline.

  (PHILIP sits on the easel stool)

  There’s Angela, hating my guts because at last I’ve persuaded Caroline to send her to boarding-school. She ought to have gone years ago. She’s a nice kid, really, but Caroline spoils her, and she’s inclined to run wild. She put a hedgehog in my bed last week.

  (PHILIP laughs)

  Oh, yes, very funny—but you wait till you ram your feet down on a lot of ruddy prickles. And then lastly, but not leastly, there’s the governess. Hates me like poison. Sits there at meals with her lips set together, oozing disapproval.

  MISS WILLIAMS. (off; down L.) Angela, you must get changed.

  ANGELA. (off) Oh, I’m all right.

  PHILIP. They seem to have got you down a bit.

  MISS WILLIAMS. (off) You’re not all right. You can’t go out to tea with Mr. Blake in those jeans.

  AMYAS. Nil desperandum! (He drinks)

  (ANGELA enters down L.)

  ANGELA. (as she enters) Merry wouldn’t mind. (She crosses to Philip and pulls him to his feet) Hullo, Philip.

  (MISS WILLIAMS enters down L and crosses above the bench to the french windows)

  MISS WILLIAMS. Good afternoon, Mr. Blake. I hope you had a good journey down from London?

  PHILIP. Quite good, thank you.

  (MISS WILLIAMS goes into the room, sees the trug on the stool, picks it up, returns to the terrace and exits by the garden door up L)

  ANGELA. (crossing to L of Amyas) You’ve got paint on your ear.

  AMYAS. (rubbing a painty hand on his other ear) Eh?

  ANGELA. (delighted) Now you’ve got paint on both ears. He can’t go out to tea like that, can he?

  AMYAS. I’ll go out to tea with ass’s ears if I like.

  ANGELA. (putting her arms around Amyas’ neck from behind and mocking him) Amyas is an ass! Amyas is an ass!

  AMYAS. (chanting) Amya
s is an ass.

  (MISS WILLIAMS enters up L and moves to the french windows)

  MISS WILLIAMS. Come along, Angela.

  (ANGELA jumps over the bench and runs to the easel)

  ANGELA. You and your stupid painting. (Vindictively) I’m going to write “Amyas is an ass” all over your picture in scarlet paint. (She bends down, grabs a brush and proceeds to rub it in the red paint on the palette)

  (AMYAS rises quickly, puts his glass downstage of the bench, crosses to ANGELA and grabs her hand before she has time to damage the picture)

  AMYAS. If you ever tamper with any picture of mine—(seriously) I’ll kill you. Remember that. (He picks up a piece of rag and cleans the brush)

  ANGELA. You’re just like Caroline—she’s always saying, “I’ll kill you” to people—but she never does, why, she won’t even kill wasps. (Sulkily) I wish you’d hurry up and finish painting Elsa—then she’d go away.

  PHILIP. Don’t you like her?

  ANGELA. (snappily) No. I think she’s a terrible bore. (She crosses to L and turns) I can’t imagine why Amyas has her here.

  (PHILIP and AMYAS exchange looks. AMYAS crosses to Angela)

  I suppose she’s paying you a terrible lot of money for painting her, is she, Amyas?

  AMYAS. (putting his arm around Angela’s shoulders and guiding her towards the french windows) Go and finish your packing. Four-fifteen train tomorrow, and good riddance. (He gives her a playful shove and turns downstage)

  (ANGELA hits AMYAS on the back. He turns and collapses on the bench, and she pommels his chest)

  ANGELA. I hate you—I hate you. Caroline would never have sent me away to school if it wasn’t for you.

  PHILIP. Mind the beer. (He crosses to the bench, picks up the glass and puts it on the trolley)

  ANGELA. You just want to get rid of me. You wait—I’ll get even with you—I’ll—I’ll . . .