THE LAURELS

Turnbull Library Record, Volume 6, Issue 2, 1 October 1973, Page 5

THE LAURELS

Lytton DR KEIT Carrington his grandchild, muriel dash Mansfield Florence kaziany Aldous BALLIOL DODD Maria jane Murry ivan tchek

{Act I. Scene I. Breakfast room, ivan enters, pours out a cup of coffee, lights a cigarette, stamps on the cigarette, says) ivan. And so it goes on. ( And walks out, wrapped in gloom. Enter jane who clears away, brushes* up cigarette ash, resets the table etc. and goes to door and calls) jane. Miss Muriel. muriel. {in the distance) Just coming. {She comes in with a bird in a cage, takes off cover and hangs the bird in the window, saying) Now you can look out and sing and see the sun {sighs profoundly*) shining on the land. jane. Mr Tchek has had his breakfast Miss. It’s all ready for the master. muriel. Oh very well Jane, I’ll call him. {Looks at Jane) What’s the matter, Jane? You’ve been crying. jane, {at table*) Oh, don’t notice me, Miss Muriel. I’m nobody. I’m nothing. muriel. {touched*) Whatever do you mean, Jane? {Jane puts her hand over her eyes and sobs) muriel. {taking her hand away) Poor Jane, and you do look so dreadful. {brightly) Tell the [illegible]. jane. Oh Miss if you knew what I feel about —It seems funny don’t it Miss, but things happen like that. When I saw ’is boots in the passage this morning—those black button ones with the brown tops, I felt I could bear it no longer. I felt quite wild, Miss, in the kitchen jest now. Oh Mother what ’ave you been and gone and done. And it isn’t as though it’s my fault, Miss. That’s what makes it so hard to bear. muriel. Bewildering —what on earth are you talking about Jane? jane. Oh Miss —it’s Mr Tchek. The Russian gentleman. muriel. Are you in love with him Jane? jane. Oh Miss — muriel. But whatever is there to cry about in that Jane? Oh, Jane — you lucky girl. Just to be in love—isn’t that enough? Oh, how I

envy you, how I envy you. I’ve nothing—nothing to be in love with except (she points) my canary, and there comes a time Jane (taking the cage) when even a canary isn’t half enough. One seems somehow to want more. Oh Jane — jane. But you don’t understand Miss. If I was like you, with my Pa and me Ma in a lovely double frame on the dressing table it’d be alright. But there —I’ve got to tell somebody, (beats her breast) I’m a love child, I am. muriel (claps her hands) A love child, Jane? How divine.* What is it? How pretty it sounds, (dreamily) A love child. jane, (leaning towards her curiously) Do you mean to say you don't know, Miss? It means I haven’t got no Father. muriel. But oh, Jane, how perfect. Just like the Virgin Mary. jane, (furious) You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Miss Muriel, that you ought. Don’t you know it’s the most horrible thing that can happen to anybody, not to have a P'ather? Don’t you know Miss, that’s the reason what young girls like me jump off buses and in front of trains and eat rat poison and swoller acids and [ illegible ] themselves. Just because they ’aven’t got a Father, Miss.

muriel. Does it mean . . . grandfather. Muriel. ( enters room, rather feebly, kisses Muriel on forehead and then looks about * him, moving [ illegible ] gently) And how is my little yellow bird this morning? How is my little darling canary? muriel. Very well, thank you, Grandfather. Will* you have an egg and some bread? ( cuts up loaf) grandfather. And what is my little granddaughter going to do today? Is she going to warm her wings in the pretty garden and sit and read the newspaper to her grandfather—all about the bad wicked people and the bad world outside the Laurels? muriel. The world outside the Laurels. ( covers her face with her hands and bursts into tears)

grandfather. Muriel—my child —what is it? muriel. Oh Grandfather, I do so want to go out into the world. grandfather. What! My little bird to leave the nest and try to fly over the tall laurels? My little violet to peep from its leaf for prying hands to gather? My little Muriel to leave her old grandfather to wander quite abandoned on the dusty road? ( puts his hand to his heart and exclaims) Ugh! muriel. Grandfather, Grandfather. grandfather. My heart. A chair, (he sits [illegible], puts Muriel's hand over his heart ) Feel. Scarcely at all.

muriel. Oh Grandfather can it be my fault? grandfather, {takes her face in his hands) Happy child! Careless water sprite. One day when little Muriel is older she will understand how she made Grandfather suffer, and the old wounds, here closed, open again.

muriel. {clasps her hands) and must I never never go, Grandfather? grandfather. Never, little mouse. {Muriel drifts towards the door) Where are you going to child? muriel. {solemnly) I am going to look at my father’s photograph. grandfather. Achk! {mysteriously) Fatal, fatal child. But if the bloom must disappear let mine be the tender hands. Come here Muriel. {Muriel kneels beside him, clasps her hands and gazes at him) The time has come then when my little Muriel must know why it would be useless for her to go out into the world, and why the world will have none of her roses and violets and pretty pretty parsley, but must hide with Grandfather within the Laurels, under the laurels, {standing) The man in the double frame is not your father, Muriel. Draw closer. How the little hands tremble—those shining eyes, {mysteriously) Mr Tchek is not our first lodger Muriel. Once upon a time another lived in Mr Tchek’s room—the first that ever burst. You follow me, Beating Heart?

muriel. Yes Grandfather. grandfather. And your mother was just the same age as you, just as tender to the old man who was not so old then. muriel. But only getting on, getting on. grandfather. Time passed until one fine day Florence and the first lodger went away and after a long time when Grandfather was all alone he found ( groans ) —how shall I tell her—a basket under the laurel hedge with a baby and a bottle and a bonnet in it. muriel. {radiant, flings her arms round him) The baby was me Grandfather.

grandfather. ( clasping her to his heart) My treasure is a love child. muriel. {awed) Just like Jane, {leaves his arm) But did Mother never come back, Grandfather? grandfather. Never. Other* grass was green and water flowed. Never came back, {they sway to and fro clasped in each other’s arms. Suddenly the door opens and Florence hursts in in a travelling cape, followed by Jane carrying a hag) Florence, (to Jane) Pay my taxi, {rushes forward) Father! grandfather, {horrified) Florence! Florence. No, don’t get up, my old, feeble, broken, white-headed old Father.

muriel. ( very embarrassed) Good afternoon Mother. I am your daughter Muriel. Florence, (as to a child) Well, my little darling. ( turns to grandfather) How old you have become, my poor Father. I should have warned you before I came. I had no right—l didn’t realise how old you were, how feeble, how almost —( shakes her head at him) It was high time. grandfather. ( trying to e carry it off’) I have never been better in my life, Florence. Florence, ([illegible]) There there, (she unbuttons her cape and Muriel takes it from her and stands holding the cape in her hands) How hot and stuffy it is in here, (walks over to the window) Hemmed in by Laurels—

© The Estate of Katherine Mansfield.