CELIA PORTER
Well, John.

JOHN PORTER
The train leaves at half past nine. It's after nine now.

CELIA
I suppose it was too good to last, having you so near home. I don't think I'm going to be able to get used to the idea of you being all those miles away.

JOHN
You'll have Dad...and Margaret.

CELIA
Margaret spends most of her time around here.

JOHN
It's her home, Mum.

CELIA
Her home is with you now...or should be.

JOHN
Yes, but we haven't had a home, have we?

CELIA
Well, I'm sure I've done my best to make it a home for you.

JOHN
I know. I know. But it couldn't be the same under any circumstances, could it?

CELIA
But it was home to you for a good many years. I don't see why she had to turn her nose up at it.

JOHN
Oh, Mum, she didn't.

CELIA
I tried to make her welcome. Obviously, I haven't succeeded.

JOHN
In what way?

CELIA
She started coming back here as soon as you went away.

JOHN
Yes. Yes, I know. She told me.

CELIA
She told you?

JOHN
She asked me if I thought you'd mind. I said you wouldn't. It seems I was wrong.

CELIA
Nobody asked me if I minded.

JOHN
I think she told you she was going to see a friend because she thought you would mind.

CELIA
Nobody asked me.

JOHN
Didn't she?

CELIA
Well, if she did, it was certainly a very deceitful thing to do.

JOHN
Don't say things like that, please.

CELIA
It was certainly deceitful, according to the way I was brought up...and according to the way you were brought up, too, I should hope.

JOHN
If she did say that, it was only to spare your feelings, wasn't it?

CELIA
You've been talking to your father. Oh, she likes your father, you know. They're great friends, those two are. He tells her his tales about the First War, and she tells him how marvelous she thinks he is. She thinks he's a great charmer, you know. She told me. Me! Well, I could certainly tell her a thing or two about men like your father.

JOHN
You mustn't talk like that.

CELIA
He's jealous of you and I, your father. You know that, don't you?

JOHN
No! I've got less than ten minutes. Please, Mum!

CELIA
(caressing his head)
Oh, my love. My love. No, no.

 

(from "The Gate of the Year" by John Finch)