Act 3 — Scene II

The scene is now as it was before, the small table which was used for the meeting having been removed. It is moonlight outside. The moonlight pours in through the portholes and through the centre door which is wide open.

Scrubby enters from the left. He collects a few glasses, and places them on a tray. He is tidying up. He then goes through the door behind the bar. Once more the mysterious drum is heard, and Ann appears from the deck.

Ann. Henry! (Goes to left.) Henry! Henry, where are you? I want you! (Up again.) Henry! Henry! (Left.)

Henry (from centre opening). Yes, dear?

Ann. Where have you been?

Henry. Looking at the sea⁠—

Ann. You know we’ve sailed again.

Henry. Yes.

Ann. Why have we both been left behind?

Henry. I don’t know, dear. But what does it matter, we’ve been left together.

Ann. Yes, you and I.

Henry. The lights of that place have gone now.

Ann (up to Henry up centre). Where were you just now? Where were you?

Henry. Looking at the sea.

Ann (arm in arm down centre). I’ve taken a dislike to the sea, husband. It seems to me we should keep terribly close.

Henry. Why, dear?

Ann. Can’t you ever feel when things are passing over you? Bad things, I can. They’re round us now, all round. They’ve been round us since we left that harbour.

Henry. Why weren’t we judged?

Ann. I don’t know⁠—and I don’t know why you left me for a while. (Sits.)

Henry. I thought I heard a dog bark. It was Jock. What’s that?

Ann. What?

Henry. Something seemed to touch my hand. (He is uneasy.) We should have insisted on being heard, we were cowards.

Ann. Not because we are ashamed of our love.

Henry. No. Because we were afraid of being separated.

Ann. Yes.

(A faint, very faint, sound of breaking glass off right.)

Henry (pause⁠—listens). It’s strange that tinkling noise like glass⁠—sharp pieces of glass falling on stone. Do you hear it, Ann?

Ann. No, dear.

Henry. My nerves are all on edge. I’d have sworn I did. Ann, where are we going to?

Ann. I can’t think. (Rises, pause.) Perhaps it’s the dreadful house with the double staircase in the Hall. You know.

Henry. The stairs I run up and down trying to find you.

Ann. Perhaps it isn’t a dream place at all.

Henry. Ann, since we left that harbour I feel we are bound for some place dimly remembered.... Ann, I feel⁠—a breeze like a breath of new⁠—of different air.

Ann. They didn’t question us. Perhaps it’s freedom.

Henry. Ann, Ann, wife, wife. Don’t let’s get away from each other. We don’t know where we are, we don’t know what’s becoming to us, or where we’re going.

Ann. I don’t really care what’s becoming to me as long as I am with my husband. What else matters? But if you went away from me⁠—

Henry. It seems you’re rather leaning on me now!

Ann. Shares, Henry.

Henry. Shares, Ann.

Ann. You see, I love you. I love you so much. I love the way you walk, the way you hold your head. I love you. I love your mouth. (Ann kisses him and then sits down. Henry kneels with his arm round her.)

Henry. My wonderful Ann. They won’t separate us now will they, Ann? Nothing can take one from the other now?

Ann. Nothing⁠—nothing.

Henry. Keep close though, keep close.... Are you cold?

Ann (takes hold of him). No. I’ve got you darling, I’ve got you.

Henry. Never let go.

Ann. Why aren’t we closer? I thought we would be when we’re dead.

Henry. I thought there would be no need for speech. That we, the real you and I would drift away together. Where is the utter completeness?⁠—Oh Ann⁠—Ann⁠—

Ann. Supposing after all, we were wrong.

Henry. Wrong?⁠—how wrong? What was that? (Rises.)

Ann. Just supposing⁠—

Henry. Ann⁠—(Listening.)

(Scrubby comes in quickly. He puts down the empty tray on bar.)

Scrubby. Good evening, madam, good evening, sir. (Goes left.)

Ann. Good evening, Scrubby.

Henry. Ann!!

Ann. Yes, dear?

Henry. There’s Jock barking. (Stepping right a pace.)

Ann. Don’t be silly.

Scrubby. Who’s Jock, ma’am?

Ann. Our dog⁠—at home.

Henry. Listen! Listen! (Stepping further right.)

Ann. Don’t be silly, Henry.

Henry. I’d like him to be with us. Jock!

Scrubby. Keep close to him, miss, if you’ll take my advice.

Henry. You can tell us, you can help, can’t you? Where are we going to?

Scrubby. We just go on like this, sir⁠—forwards and backwards⁠—backwards and forwards.

Henry. For ever?

Ann. Alone?

Scrubby. Yes, quite alone. Until⁠—

Henry (slightly excited). Why is this happening to us?

Scrubby. It happens to all half-ways like⁠—like we are.

Ann. But what are we, Scrubby? We⁠—we half-ways?

Scrubby. We’re the people who ought to have had more courage.

Ann. For what?

Scrubby. To face life.

Ann. Do you remember how you became a half-way?

Scrubby. Oh, no. I’ve been allowed to forget. I hope you’ll be allowed to forget. It would be too cruel if they didn’t let you forget in time that you killed yourselves.

Ann. Scrubby! (She rises.)

Henry (cries out). My God! that’s it! Now I remember! Suicide!

Scrubby. Keep closer to him, madam.

Henry. The people who ought to have had more courage! I see. That’s what we’ve done that wasn’t right.

Ann. Henry! (Goes to him.)

Henry. The little bits are fitting together.

Ann. Dear, don’t worry.

Henry. Ann, I wanted to forget. (Collapses on chair above table.) Oh, don’t say the damned torture’s going to start all over again. We’d reached the end of our tether as it was. Ann⁠—

Ann. I’m with you still⁠—(she stands behind his chair and puts her arm round him.)

Henry. But you can’t face it, Ann, you can’t stand it any more. I won’t let you suffer⁠—not another second. We’ll kill ourselves dear, and forget in each other’s arms. Then we’ll be so happy, sweet, so happy for ever. (Pause.) Oh, but it’s over. We have killed ourselves. And we’re not happy.

Ann. No⁠—we’re not. (Sits down.)

Henry. We can’t stand it, Ann.

Ann (after a pause). We’ve got to.

Scrubby. Why did you kill yourselves?

Ann (pause). We weren’t married, Scrubby.

Scrubby. Weren’t you, madam? Oh, you two poor dears. Pardon my familiarity.

Henry. I was trapped into a marriage.

Ann. He’s so guileless, Scrubby.

Henry (indicating Ann). Ann came to me in such a wonderful way. It was like dawn.

Ann. They’d been so cruel to him, Scrubby. Never an atom of love in his whole life before, was there, Henry?

Henry. Never, Ann was the only true and good thing I’ve ever met. We loved. We loved. I gave my soul for love as Ann gave hers. We got so near each other that we knew that there was only one minute spiritual barrier between us, and that we believed was Death. Death can unify utterly. We believed that⁠—and yet we are just as if we had never died.

Scrubby. You killed yourselves.

Ann. We should have waited?

Scrubby. Yes.

Ann. Oh, Scrubby⁠—you don’t know the agony we’ve been through. The way people talked⁠—the things they said.

Henry. Lies⁠—such bloody lies! (Rises.)

Ann. They smeared our love⁠—smeared⁠—

Henry. With their dirty tongues.

Ann. You see, Scrubby, we didn’t conceal it⁠—we didn’t pretend.

Henry. We weren’t ashamed. We started so proudly, so proudly.

Ann. Till we were beaten down so bruised, so hurt.

Henry. But we should have gone on?

Ann. Yes.

Scrubby. And now you children are faced with memories.

Henry. I remember the long sweep into the dark. The last thing I saw was Jock’s face against the window. I can see him now⁠—almost feel him⁠—Jock!⁠—(Stooping as if to pet the dog.) Jock!

Scrubby. Outside the window, sir?

Henry. Yes⁠—outside. (To Ann.) And then you, Ann⁠—I haven’t taken care of you well enough, and I’ve been a coward. (Ann rises.) Oh! to be given back even a little while⁠—to try again. Our future here isn’t Hell, it isn’t Heaven, it’s past imagination.

Scrubby. Eternity.

Henry. Ann, Ann, I must save you. I promise that I will. I’m the man. Oh, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault. We didn’t understand, dear, that we should have been true and brave and fearless. Then nothing could have hurt us wherever we were whatever we have been, or may be.

Ann. It’s too late now.

Henry (moving away). Let me think dear. There must be a way out. Let me think. The air seems fresher out here.

(Walks slowly to the deck and leans over rail. After a few seconds during the following dialogue, walks slowly up and down passing and re-passing the entrance. Gradually a bigger pause between each pass till he doesn’t come past.)

Scrubby (below settee). Don’t let him go too far, madam. Call him now.

Ann. Henry!

Henry. Ann!

Ann. Don’t go too far away.

Henry (off). No dear!

Ann (crosses to Scrubby). Why aren’t people kinder to each other, Scrubby?

Scrubby (Ann sits left). Being unkind comes more natural to most people, I’m afraid.

Ann. I’d try to be kinder if I had it over again. Now there’s no one left here to be kind to.

Scrubby (crosses right to table). Present company excepted. What did you like best in life?

Ann. I liked so many things. I loved the earth, the scent of the earth, of newly-cut grass, after rain; and the trees, and all clear things like water. Are you very lonely, Scrubby?

Scrubby. Oh no, ma’am, not on the whole. I’ve all sorts of comforting little thoughts locked up in my brain, so when I get a bit monotonous I just turn the key and out come the thoughts to dance in front of me. Very whimsical and entertaining some of them are too, I must say.

Ann. I do hope we’ll get on together. When I was living I did want people to look after, but I had so few friends. Now I’ve none excepting you.

Scrubby. You’ll find lots of new friends, ma’am. Not quite the same, but most consoling. The birds come on board occasionally⁠—and the sky appreciates a clean good morning, and the sea’s in a good temper sometimes. Don’t always think of nature as men and women. If you’re kind to nature, nature will understand. These are some of my comforts. You want the earth again. But the sea will tell your wish to the clouds maybe, and perhaps some little drifting cloud will float with the news over to the land, and rest above the cool trees and the yellow gorse and the grass near the chalk pits. So though you can’t get the earth again, ma’am, the earth may know. And let’s hope she will, and send back her kind regards and very best wishes. Call him again.

Ann. Call him? Why?

Scrubby. Call him.

Ann. Henry! Henry! (A pause.) Henry! (Long pause. Rises and goes up centre, exits and returns. Another pause⁠—goes out left and re-enters. At opening left screams.) Henry! Henry! (Pause.) He must be here. He must be here. (She dashes on to the deck again. Looks round. Then returning cries once more, wildly.) Henry! (There is no answer. She looks at Scrubby questioningly.)

Scrubby. He has gone.

Ann (screams). Henry!! You haven’t looked.

Scrubby. Useless.

Ann. What do you mean? (Quiet now.)

Scrubby. I know what’s happened to him.

Ann. What?

Scrubby. He lives again!

Ann. Lives! Henry gone back?

Scrubby. The dog, ma’am, outside the window. Perhaps broke through.

Ann. Henry is gone back, alone.

Scrubby. He’s stronger than you⁠—more power to resist the fumes maybe.

Ann. Gone back. I’ll follow him.

Scrubby. You can’t.

Ann. Henry wouldn’t leave me alone.

Scrubby. He couldn’t help himself, madam.

Ann. But we’ve been dead a week⁠—

Scrubby. A week! A century! A moment! There’s no time here. He’s gone back, madam.

Ann. Then I’ll go too.

Scrubby. You can’t.

Ann. I will. I must!

Scrubby. It’s impossible.

Ann. I will follow. Henry. Henry. (Comes down right in front of table, facing front.) Henry dear, where are you? It’s Ann, dear. Where are you, baby? Just tell me where you are? Where are you? I’ll come darling. Just tell me. Henry! Henry!

Scrubby. He won’t answer.

Ann. Henry. Henry are you in the flat? I believe you are, Henry; you mustn’t be there by yourself⁠—you won’t know how to manage anything.

Scrubby. It’s useless.

Ann. Henry, listen, Henry. Our love, our great love. (The drum is heard again.) It’s speaking, Henry. The little wedding ring, that wasn’t a wedding ring at all⁠—put it on my finger again. It’s on the mantelpiece. Henry don’t leave me alone for ever. It’s Ann, your Ann, who wants you. Henry! Henry dear!

(The drum stops.)

Scrubby. Quiet. Quiet. I heard something out there⁠—on the deck.

(Another pause then Henry appears in the centre doorway.)

Ann (without seeing him, still facing front). Hello, Henry.

Henry (coming down to her partly). Hello, Ann. Quick, dear, be very quick. There’s only a second or two. I’ve come to fetch you home, dear. Ready, sweetheart? (Holding out his hand.)

Ann. Ready, Henry, ready! (Turning up and taking his hand.)

Henry. We’ve such a lot to do my love. And such a little time to do it in. Quick. Quick.

(They go out together. The drum starts again very softly. Scrubby watches them go.)

Curtain.