The Mousetrap

MEREDITH. (crossing to the armchairRand 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 toR) 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 downL; 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)