CYRIL

Mother’s Day CYRIL: [briskly] Hello — Mum. Tea ready? MRS PEARSON: No. CYRIL: [moving to the table; annoyed] Why not? MRS PEARSON: [coolly] I couldn’t bother. CYRIL: Feeling off-colour or something? MRS PEARSON: Never felt better in my life. CYRIL: [aggressively] What’s the idea then? MRS PEARSON: Just a change. CYRIL: [briskly] Well, snap out of it, Ma — and get cracking. Haven’t too much time. [Cyril is about to go when Mrs Pearson’s voice checks him.] MRS PEARSON: I’ve plenty of time. CYRIL: Yes, but I haven’t. Got a busy night tonight. [moving left to the door] Did you put my things out? MRS PEARSON: [coolly] Can’t remember. But I doubt it. CYRIL: [moving to the table; protesting] Now— look. When I asked you this morning, you promised. You said you’d have to look through ‘em first in case there was any mending. MRS PEARSON: Yes — well now I’ve decided I don’t like mending. CYRIL: That’s a nice way to talk — what would happen if we all talked like that? MRS PEARSON: You all do talk like that. If there’s something at home you don’t want to do, you don’t do it. If it’s something at your work, you get the Union to bar it. Now all that’s happened is that I’ve joined the movement. CYRIL: [staggered] I don’t get this, Mum. What’s going on? MRS PEARSON: [laconic and sinister] Changes. [Doris enters left. She is in the process of dressing and is now wearing a wrap. She looks pale and red-eyed.] MRS PEARSON: You look terrible. I wouldn’t wear that face even for Charlie Spence. DORIS: [moving above the table; angrily] Oh —shut up about Charlie Spence. And anyhow I’m not ready yet —just dressing. And if I do look -