The Mousetrap

AUDREY. Actually, I told Mary I’d go into Saltington with her to shop.

NEVILE. Mary won’t mind. (Audrey picks up a magazine. He takes her hand.) Come on, Audrey.

AUDREY. No, really . . . (Kay enters by the French windows.)

NEVILE. (As he sees Kay.) I’m trying to persuade Audrey to come bathing.

KAY. (Moving toR. of the chaise.) Oh? And what does Audrey say?

AUDREY. Audrey says “no.” (Audrey withdraws her hand from Nevile’s and exits L.)

ROYDE. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and unpack. (Royde pauses a moment by the bookshelves up L., selects a book, then exits L.)

KAY. So that’s that. Coming, Nevile?

NEVILE. Well, I’m not sure. (He takes a magazine from the coffee table, sits on the chaise, leans back and puts his feet up.)

KAY. (Impatiently.) Well, make up your mind.

NEVILE. I’m not sure I won’t just have a shower and laze in the garden.

KAY. It’s a perfect day for bathing. Come on.

NEVILE. What have you done with the boy friend?

KAY. Ted? I left him on the beach and came up to find you. You can laze on the beach. (She touches his hair.)

NEVILE. (Moving her hand from his hair.) With Latimer, I suppose? (He shakes his head.) Doesn’t appeal to me a lot.

KAY. You don’t like Ted, do you?

NEVILE. Not madly. But if it amuses you to pull him around on a string . . .

KAY. (Tweaking his ear.) I believe you’re jealous.

NEVILE. (Pushing her hand from his ear.) Of Latimer? Nonsense, Kay.

KAY. Ted’s very attractive.

NEVILE. I’m sure he is. He has that lithe South American charm.

KAY. You needn’t sneer. He’s very popular with women.

NEVILE. Especially with the ones over fifty.

KAY. (Pleased.) You are jealous.

NEVILE. My dear—I couldn’t care less—he just doesn’t count.

KAY. I think you’re very rude about my friends. I have to put up with yours.

NEVILE. What do you mean by that?

KAY. (Moving above the chaise toR. of the coffee table.) Dreary old Lady Tressilian and stuffy old Mr. Treves and all the rest of them. (She sits on the coffee table, facing Nevile.) Do you think I find them amusing? (Suddenly.) Nevile, do we have to stay on here? Can’t we go away—tomorrow? It’s so boring . . .

NEVILE. We’ve only just come.

KAY. We’ve been here four days—four whole long days. Do let’s go, Nevile, please.

NEVILE. Why?

KAY. I want to go. We could easily find some excuse. Please, darling.

NEVILE. Darling, it’s out of the question. We came for a fortnight and we’re going to stay a fortnight. You don’t seem to understand. Sir Mortimer Tressilian was my guardian. I came here for holidays as a boy. Gull’s Point was practically my home. Camilla would be terribly hurt. (He smiles.)

KAY. (Rising and moving to the window upL.; impatiently.) Oh, all right, all right. I suppose we have to suck up to old Camilla, because of getting all that money when she dies.

NEVILE. (Rising and moving on to the rostrum, angrily.) It’s not a question of sucking up. I wish you wouldn’t look at it like that. She’s no control over the money. Old Mortimer left it in trust to come to me and my wife at her death. Don’t you realize it’s a question of affection?

KAY. Not with me, it isn’t. She hates me.

NEVILE. Don’t be stupid.

KAY. (Moving toL. of the armchairL. C.) Yes, she does. She looks down that bony nose of hers at me, and Mary Aldin talks to me as though I were someone she’d just met on a train. They only have me here on sufferance. You don’t seem to know what goes on.

NEVILE. They always seem to me to be very nice to you. (He moves to the coffee table and throws the magazine on it.) You imagine things.

KAY. Of course they’re polite. But they know how to get under my skin all right. I’m an interloper. That’s what they feel.

NEVILE. Well—I suppose that’s only natural . . .