The Mousetrap

(He exits Right. GERDA rises, crosses below the sofa to Right, looks off, turns, looks Left, hesitates, fidgets with her handbag, then gives a nervous cough and crosses to Left Centre.)

EDWARD. (Off up Centre.) And this winter I’m going to cut down that avenue of trees so that we can have a better view of the lake.

(HENRIETTA and EDWARD enter up Centre from Left. GERDA turns. EDWARD eases to Left of the sofa.)

HENRIETTA. (As she enters) I think it’s a very good idea, Edward. Hullo, Gerda, how are you? You know Edward Angkatell, don’t you? (She eases above the Right end of the sofa.)

EDWARD. How d’you do, Mrs. Cristow?

GERDA. How do you do? (She drops one glove and picks it up.)

(EDWARD bends to pick up the glove, but GERDA forestalls him.)

HENRIETTA. Where’s John?

(EDWARD turns and looks at HENRIETTA.)

GERDA. He just went out into the garden to see if he could find Lady Angkatell.

HENRIETTA. (Moving to the French window Right and glancing off) It’s an impossible garden to find anyone in, all woods and shrubs.

GERDA. But soon there’ll be such lovely autumn tints.

HENRIETTA. (Turning) Yes. (She turns and gazes out of the window.)

EDWARD. (Crossing to the door Left) You’ll forgive me if I go and change.

(He exits Left. GERDA starts to follow him but stops as HENRIETTA speaks.)

HENRIETTA. Autumn takes one back—one keeps saying, “Don’t you remember?”

(GERDA, strung up and obviously miserable, moves to the armchair Left Centre.)

(She turns suddenly, looks at GERDA, and her face softens.) Shall we go and look for the others, too?

GERDA. (About to sit in the armchair) No, please—I mean—(She rises) yes, that would be very nice.

HENRIETTA. (Moving below the sofa; vigorously) Gerda! Why do you come down here when you hate it so much?

GERDA. But I don’t.

HENRIETTA. (Kneeling with one knee on the sofa) Yes you do.

GERDA. I don’t really. It’s delightful to get down here into the country and Lady Angkatell is always so kind.

HENRIETTA. Lucy? (She sits on the sofa at the Right end of it.) Lucy’s not a bit kind. She has good manners and she knows how to be gracious. But I always think she’s rather a cruel person, perhaps because she isn’t quite human. She doesn’t know what it is to feel and think like ordinary people. And you are hating it here, Gerda, you know you are.

GERDA. (Easing to Left of the sofa) Well, you see, John likes it.

HENRIETTA. Oh, John likes it all right. But you could let him come by himself.

GERDA. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t enjoy himself here without me. He is so unselfish. He thinks it does me good to get down into the country. (She moves below the Left end of the sofa.) But I’m glad you’re here, though—it makes it so much better.

HENRIETTA. Does it? I’m glad.

GERDA. (Sitting on the sofa at the Left end of it; in a burst of confidence) You see, I don’t really like being away from home. There is so much to do before I leave, and John is so impatient. Even now I’m not sure I turned the bathroom taps off properly, and there was a note I meant to leave for the laundry. And you know, Henrietta, I don’t really trust the children’s French governess—when I’m not there they never do anything she tells them. Oh, well, it’s only for two days.

HENRIETTA. Two days of hell—cheerfully endured for John’s sake.

GERDA. You must think I’m very ungrateful—when everybody is so kind. My breakfast brought up to my room and the housemaids so beautifully trained—but I do sometimes feel . . .

HENRIETTA. I know. They snatch away one’s clothes and put them where you can’t find them, and always lay out the dress and shoes you don’t want to wear. One has to be strong-minded.

GERDA. Oh, I’m afraid I’m never strong-minded.

HENRIETTA. How’s the knitting?