The Mousetrap

VERONICA. Nonsense, John. I love you and you love me. We’ve always loved each other. You were very obstinate in the past. But never mind that now.

(JOHN crosses above the sofa to Left of it.)

Look, our lives needn’t clash. I don’t mean to go back to the States for quite a while. When I’ve finished the picture I’m working on now, I’m going to play a straight part on the London stage. I’ve got a new play—Elderton’s written it for me. It’ll be a terrific success.

JOHN. (Politely) I’m sure it will.

VERONICA. (Condescendingly) And you can go on being a doctor. You’re quite well-known, they tell me.

JOHN. (Moving down Left Centre; irritably) I am a fairly well-known consultant on certain diseases—if it interests you—but I imagine it doesn’t.

VERONICA. What I mean is we can both get on with our own jobs. It couldn’t have worked out better.

JOHN. (Surveying her dispassionately) You really are the most interesting character. Don’t you realize that I’m a married man—I have children?

VERONICA. (Rising and crossing to Right ofJOHN) Well, I’m married myself at the moment. But these things are easily arranged. A good lawyer can fix anything. (Softly) I always did mean to marry you, darling. I can’t think why I have this terrible passion for you—(She puts her arms around JOHN’s neck) but there it is.

JOHN. (Shaking her off; brusquely) I’m sorry, Veronica. (He moves to the fireplace.) It’s out of the question.

VERONICA. But I tell you a good lawyer can easily fix . . .

JOHN. No good lawyer is going to fix anything. Your life and mine have nothing in common.

VERONICA. (Moving to Right ofJOHNand facing him) Not after last night?

JOHN. You’re not a child, Veronica. You’ve had two husbands and, I’ve no doubt, a good many lovers. What does “last night” mean exactly? Nothing at all, and you know it.

VERONICA. If you’d seen your face, yesterday evening—when I came through that window—we might have been back in the South of France all those years ago.

JOHN. I was back in the South of France. (Gently) Try to understand, Veronica. You came to me last night straight out of the past. I’d been thinking about you. Wondering whether I’d been as wise a young man as I’d thought myself—or whether I’d simply been a coward. And suddenly—there you were—like a dream come to life. But you were a dream. Today I’m back in the present, a man ten years older. (He crosses to Left of the sofa.) A man you don’t know and probably wouldn’t like very much if you did know him.

VERONICA. Are you telling me that you prefer your wife to me?

JOHN. Yes—yes, I am. (He sits on the sofa at the Left end of it.) I’ve suddenly realized how very much fonder I am of her than I knew. When I got back to this house last night—or in the early hours of the morning—I suddenly saw how stupidly I’d risked losing everything in the world I need. Fortunately, Gerda was asleep. She’d no idea what time I got back. She believes I left you quite early.

VERONICA. Your wife must be a very credulous woman.

JOHN. She loves me—and she trusts me.

VERONICA. She’s a fool! (She crosses to Left of the sofa.) And anyway, I don’t believe a word of what you say. You love me.

JOHN. I’m sorry, Veronica.

VERONICA. (Breaking down Centre; incredulously) You don’t love me?

JOHN. I’ve been perfectly frank with you. You are a very beautiful and very seductive woman, Veronica—(He rises and moves up Right of the sofa) but I don’t love you.

VERONICA. (Furiously) You belong to me, John. (She moves below the sofa.) You always have. Ever since I got to England, I’ve been thinking about you, planning how best to meet you again. (She kneels on the sofa.) Why do you think I took this idiotic cottage down here? Simply because I found out that you often came down for weekends with the Angkatells.

JOHN. So it was all planned last night. (He crosses above the sofa to Right of the armchair Left Centre.) I noticed your lighter was working this morning.

VERONICA. (Rising and turning) You belong to me.