NADINE. That’s where you’re wrong. We’re an odd family. He can’t.

SARAH. You’re a very devoted family—I know. Your mother-in-law told me so.

NADINE. No, we’re not. That’s the last thing we are.

(SARAH looks in surprise at NADINE.)

(She moves nearer to SARAH and lowers her voice.) Do you know what she—(she gestures towards MRS. BOYNTON) was before my father-in-law married her?

SARAH. What was she?

NADINE. She was a wardress in a prison. (She pauses.) My father-in-law was the governor. He was a widower with three young children, the youngest, Jinny, only six months old.

SARAH. (Looking atMRS. BOYNTON) Yes—I can see her as a wardress.

NADINE. It’s what she still is—Lennox and Raymond and Jinny have been the prisoners. They’ve never known what it is to live outside the prison walls.

SARAH. Not even now—here—abroad?

NADINE. Yes. She’s brought the prison walls with her. She’s never allowed them to make friends—to have outside contacts—to have any ideas or interests of their own. It’s all been done under the pretence of solicitude and devotion—but there’s no devotion.

SARAH. What is there, then?

NADINE. Something that frightens me—something cruel—something that rejoices and gloats in its own power . . .

(MRS. BOYNTON moves, puts down her book and peers forward.)

MRS. BOYNTON. (Calling) Nadine. Come and help me.

NADINE. (ToSARAH; urgently) I didn’t understand when I married Lennox—I left things too late. I think he’s beyond help. But it’s different with Raymond. You could fight.

MRS. BOYNTON. (Calling) Nadine.

NADINE. Coming, Mother. (She goes up on the rock toMRS. BOYNTON)

(The ARAB BOY enters from the marquee.)

BOY. (ToSARAH) Selun, he very bad. You come, Miss Doctor.

SARAH. (Rising) Very well.

(SARAH and the ARAB BOY exit to the marquee. RAYMOND enters Right and crosses to the table. He picks up a bottle that NADINE has left out of the case, at first casually, then with suddenly awakened attention. He stares down at it. NADINE helps MRS. BOYNTON to rise.)

RAYMOND. (Looking at the case) Doctor Gerard’s. (He moves a step or two forward from the table, intent on the bottle in his hand.)

(MRS. BOYNTON and NADINE move down Centre.)

MRS. BOYNTON. I think I’ll sit here for a bit.

(RAYMOND, startled, drops the bottle and turns.)

(She indicates the chair Right of the table.) There.

NADINE. Won’t it be too hot for you in the sun?

MRS. BOYNTON. I don’t mind the sun. It’s really hotter up there among the rocks because of the refraction. This will do very well. (She sits Right of the table. To RAYMOND) I saw you talking to that girl, son.

RAYMOND. (Frightened) I— . . . (With an effort) Yes, I did speak to her. Why not?

MRS. BOYNTON. Why not, indeed. After all, you’re young. You’d better go for a walk this afternoon.

RAYMOND. Go—for a walk? You—you want me to?

MRS. BOYNTON. Young people must enjoy themselves.

NADINE. Cat and mouse.

MRS. BOYNTON. That’s an odd thing to say, Nadine.

NADINE. Is it?

MRS. BOYNTON. (ToRAYMOND) Your friend went that way. (She points with her stick to the marquee.)

(RAYMOND exits doubtfully to the marquee. NADINE looks at MRS. BOYNTON.)

(She chuckles quietly) Yes, young people must enjoy themselves—in their own way.

NADINE. (Crossing aboveMRS. BOYNTONand standing above the table) And old people in theirs.

MRS. BOYNTON. Now what do you mean by that, my dear?

NADINE. Just—cat and mouse.

MRS. BOYNTON. Very cryptic. You ought to go for a walk, Nadine, with that nice friend of yours—Mr. Cope.

NADINE. I suppose you saw us talking, too?

MRS. BOYNTON. Yes. He’s very fond of you.

NADINE. (Moving Left of the table) I know.

MRS. BOYNTON. I’m afraid you don’t get as much fun as you ought to get. It’s a very dull life waiting on a sick old woman—and Lennox—he’s changed a lot—yes, he’s changed.

Перейти на страницу:

Похожие книги