Christopher Very inventive.

Pause.

Margaret There was another old man I remember, too. Sold buttermilk from a huge wooden churn in the back of his cart. What was his name? Cannon? Canning? Anyhow. The tricks we used to play on that old huckster. One of us would have the job of distracting him: maybe tell him his horse was lame or the wheel of his cart was cracked. And when he’d be examining it, the most daring of us – the cheekiest of us – would creep onto the back of the cart and turn the tap of the churn full on. Then we’d bolt like rabbits round the corner and watch the flood of buttermilk pour down the street, laughing our heads off and terrified at the same time. Bad monkeys, weren’t we?

For the first time Christopher opens his eyes.

Christopher Sorry – what’s that?

Margaret I do think you should take this business in hand yourself (bills).

Christopher ‘I do think …’ Proper little Englishwoman today is Miss O’Donnell, isn’t she?

Margaret Why are you being so –?

Christopher And am I required to examine them just now? At this very minute?

She goes back quickly to the breakfast room and busies herself at the desk. He follows her immediately.

Christopher Forgive me – I’m on edge – I’m sorry.

Margaret We can go over them another day.

Christopher I’m still in shock.

Margaret I know.

Christopher Do you?

She moves away from him. He looks at his watch.

Christopher I’ve decided to ask Penny over for the weekend.

Margaret Yes.

Christopher Show solidarity with the tribe.

Margaret Why not?

Christopher And get her out of that damned mausoleum for a couple of nights.

Margaret Good idea.

Christopher Lucy loved having her over, rest in peace. We both did. Pert and intrepid Penny Pasco. She really must detest that damned place now.

Margaret You should do that.

He looks at his watch again. Pause.

Christopher They could have got the length of Sligo by now. Spend the night with Colonel Harvey maybe … Of course he’ll never forgive me, Richard. How could he ever …? You’re right: I am a coward.

Margaret We were all cowardly.

Christopher And of course there is a list.

Margaret (firmly) We are not going to go back over that again. There is no list. Doherty was very explicit. They have no quarrel with you, he said.

Christopher I should be grateful to your cousin then, should I?

Margaret But you have got to report the whole episode to the police.

Christopher Was there an episode?

Margaret For God’s sake, man: threats, trespass, intimidation. You just can’t ignore all that.

He shrugs.

You must talk to the Sergeant, Christopher.

He goes to the French windows and stands looking out over the countryside.

Margaret Are you listening to me? At least have a private word with him.

Long pause.

Christopher I can’t tell you how beautiful the home place is at this time of year. And how tranquil. And how … replete. The orchards; and the deer-park; and the lines of beehives in the pampered walled garden; and the great placid fields of wheat and oats and barley. A golden and beneficent land. Days without blemish. Every young man’s memory, isn’t it? – or fiction? – or whatever. Your father hasn’t a monopoly on romance and easy sentiment. I’m an exile from both that memory and this fact now, amn’t I?