The Mousetrap

HENRIETTA. (To herself) So quick. (She crosses to the fireplace.) It can happen so quickly. One moment living—breathing—and the next—dead—gone—emptiness. Oh, the emptiness. And here we are eating sandwiches and drinking coffee, and calling ourselves alive. And John, who was more alive than any of us, is dead. (She moves Centre.) I say the word, you know, over and over again to myself. Dead—dead—dead—dead—dead.

EDWARD. (Moving in toHENRIETTAand taking her by the shoulders) Henrietta. Henrietta, stop it—stop!

HENRIETTA. (Regaining control of herself; quietly) Didn’t you know I’d feel like this? What did you think? That I’d sit crying gently into a nice little pocket handkerchief while you held my hand? That it would all be a great shock for me, but that presently I’d begin to get over it?

(EDWARD drops his arms.)

And you’d comfort me very nicely? You are nice, Edward—(She crosses below him and sits on the sofa at the Left end of it) but it’s not enough.

EDWARD. (Deeply hurt) Yes, I’ve always known that.

HENRIETTA. What do you think it’s been like here today? With John dead and nobody caring but me and Gerda. With you glad, and Midge upset, and Henry worried, and Lucy enjoying, in a delicate sort of way, the News of the World come from print into real life. Can’t you see how like a fantastic nightmare it is?

EDWARD. (Moving up Right) Yes, I see.

HENRIETTA. At this moment nothing seems real to me but John. I know—I’m being a brute to you, Edward, but I can’t help it, I can’t help resenting that John, who was so alive, is dead . . . (She breaks off.)

EDWARD. And that I—(He turns above the sofa) who am half dead, am alive?

HENRIETTA. (Rising quickly and turning to faceEDWARD) I didn’t mean that, Edward.

EDWARD. I think you did, Henrietta.

(HENRIETTA makes a hopeless gesture, turns and exits Right, leaving the window open. EDWARD looks after her like a man in a dream. MIDGE enters Left.)

MIDGE. (Moving Left Centre.) Brrr! It’s cold in here.

EDWARD. (Absently) Yes.

MIDGE. Where’s everybody?

EDWARD. I don’t know.

MIDGE. (Moving up Centre) Is something wrong? (She closes the French windows up Centre, then crosses and closes the window Right.) Do we want the windows open? Edward—(She touches his hand) you’re icy cold. (She takes his hand and leads him to the fireplace.) Come over here and I’ll light a fire. (She takes a box of matches from the mantelpiece, kneels and lights the fire.)

EDWARD. (Moving to the armchair Left Centre, deeply moved) You’re a dear child, Midge. (He sits.)

MIDGE. No, not a child. Do you still have fir cones at Ainswick?

EDWARD. Oh yes, there’s always a basket of them beside the fire.

MIDGE. Dear Ainswick.

EDWARD. (Looking towards the French windows Right.) One shouldn’t have to live there alone.

MIDGE. Did Henrietta go out?

EDWARD. Yes.

MIDGE. What an odd thing to do. It’s raining.

EDWARD. She was upset. Did you know that she and John Cristow . . . ?

MIDGE. Were having an affair? (She rises and replaces the matches on the mantelpiece.) Yes, of course.

EDWARD. Everybody knew, I suppose.

MIDGE. (Turning) Everybody except Gerda.

EDWARD. Damn him!

MIDGE. (Moving toEDWARDand kneeling down Left of him) Darling—don’t. (She holds his arm.)

EDWARD. Even dead—he’s got her.

MIDGE. Don’t, Edward—please.

EDWARD. She’s changed so much—since those days at Ainswick.

MIDGE. We’ve all changed.

EDWARD. I haven’t. I’ve just stayed still.

MIDGE. What about me?

EDWARD. You haven’t changed.

MIDGE. (Releasing his arm and looking away; bitterly) How do you know? You never look at me.

(EDWARD is startled. He takes her face in his left hand.)

I’m a woman, Edward.

(GUDGEON enters Left. MIDGE rises.)