MARGARET
Besides, the boys here are standoffish. Except with Daisy, that is …
PAUL
Well, maybe you intimidate them. They probably think you don’t want to dance. That’s why they don’t ask you.
MARGARET
Why would they think that?
PAUL
Are you kidding? Ever see yourself at a dance? You just sit there.
MARGARET
So?
PAUL
It’s the way you sit. Knees together. A scowl on your face. A glass wall around you.
MARGARET
You’re crazy.
PAUL
Am I?
MARGARET
Anyway, the glass wall didn’t keep you away, did it? Whatever your name is.
PAUL
It’s Paul. Paul Wyatt … No, I’m dying to know what’s in that book of yours … The first time I saw you was at the lodge. You were writing all by yourself at a corner table. I figured you must be writing your boyfriend back in Vermont.
MARGARET
I don’t have a boyfriend. Besides, how do you know where I’m from?
PAUL
Can’t keep a secret here. A Vermont licence plate is rare … I even know your name. It’s Maggie Ryan. A lovely Irish name, that.
MARGARET
You think so? I always thought it sounded like a nun.
PAUL
It’s beautiful. Take my word for it … So, Maggie Ryan, what’s in that blue book you carry with you everywhere? Memories? Dreams? Deep, dark secrets?
MARGARET
It’s a novel, if you must know. I don’t have a title yet. Not that I’d divulge it if I did.
PAUL
A novel?
MARGARET
It’s set in Jericho, Vermont. The way Grace Metalious set Peyton Place in New Hampshire. Only my book will be even more shocking. Might even get me kicked out of school.
PAUL
How so?
MARGARET
It’s a sexual grenade lobbed into the straitlaced streets of New England. BOOM!
PAUL
So, Maggie, you know a lot about sex, do you?
MARGARET
Enough.
PAUL
Why? How old are you?
MARGARET
Old enough. I’m seventeen … Why? How old are you? Twenty-two?
PAUL
Twenty-two! Get serious.
MARGARET
You probably think you look younger, don’t you? The trouble is, people never see themselves the way they are. Not even in the mirror.
PAUL
Won’t work, Maggie. I don’t have a hang-up about my age.
MARGARET
Why should you? Twenty-two’s not old.
PAUL
Yeah, well, I don’t look twenty-two. I don’t even look twenty. I’m nineteen.
MARGARET
Actually, I thought you were eighteen. Nineteen makes you older than you look … Mind if I ask you something?
PAUL
What?
MARGARET
Did you follow me here?
PAUL
Follow you? Why would I do that?
MARGARET
It’s just that I’ve seen you before. Last week I was out on the point. You know, beside the sundial.
PAUL
I know. I saw you.
MARGARET
I saw you, too. I just didn’t let on.
PAUL
I was picking mushrooms. They’re all over the place out there. Chanterelles. Dead man’s fingers. Destroying angels. Only the chanterelles are any good.
MARGARET
I saw you yesterday, too. Daisy and I went to the beach, and then you came down. Not long after.
PAUL
Willow Beach is a small place, Maggie. Our paths were bound to cross … Like today. I came here to cut the grass. I do odd jobs for Tim’s dad. He’s the minister.
MARGARET
The Reverend Scott. I know.
PAUL
When I was coming up the road just now, that’s when I saw you. You were standing here beside this tree … I had the weirdest feeling. It was like I’d seen that image before. And then I realized what it was …
MARGARET
What?
PAUL
You probably won’t believe me if I tell you. You’ll just think I’m making it up.
MARGARET
Why? What is it?
PAUL
It was a dream I had two nights ago. I’d almost forgotten it.
MARGARET
A dream?
PAUL
Yeah. A woman in a summer dress. A long, white summer dress.
MARGARET
Who was it?
PAUL
Beats me. Some woman in a churchyard. This churchyard to be exact. I recognized it.
MARGARET
Do you remember what she looked like?
PAUL
No. In the dream I saw her only from the back … I could see the church over there, and the white birch, and the figure of the woman in the summer dress. She was standing here beside the tree, staring off at the lake.
MARGARET
The lake?
PAUL
Yeah. You know, like she was waiting for something. As if she knew something were about to happen there … What do you suppose that means, Maggie? A dream like that? …
MARGARET turns and stares pensively out at the lake. So does the NARRATOR.
Lights fade on the churchyard.
NARRATOR
At that moment, of course, I had no inkling what that dream meant. To me, the lake was as lovely as summer itself, glinting out there like a blue diamond …
Music: “At the Hop” by Danny & the Juniors.
Lights rise on the cottage … DAISY and MRS. CRUMP are dancing to the song on the radio.
NARRATOR
(indicates MRS. CRUMP) Mrs. Crump.
The song ends, and MRS. CRUMP returns to the table; she lights a cigar.
DAISY
Mrs. Crump?
MRS. CRUMP
Mmm.
DAISY
Can I ask you a question? A personal question?
MRS. CRUMP
Daisy, you can ask me anything you like. If I can answer it, I’ll be only too glad to.
She sets down her cigar and deals a hand of cribbage.
DAISY
Anything at all?
MRS. CRUMP
Anything, luv. I know how curious young people are. Fire away.
DAISY
All right … What’s it like to have sex?
MRS. CRUMP
(blinks) I beg your pardon?
DAISY
What’s it like to have sex?
MRS. CRUMP
I heard you the first time …
She lays down her cards, rises, and pours herself another shot of whisky.
Am I out of touch? Or are all sixteen-year-olds like you?
DAISY
I didn’t know who else to talk to. All the girls I know are virgins. And I can’t very well ask my dad, can I?
MRS. CRUMP
I’m not so sure you can ask me, either. But since you have … What exactly do you want to know?
DAISY
Is it fun?
MRS. CRUMP
(laughs) Sex? Definitely not! … What an idea!
DAISY
Why do we do it then? If it’s not fun?
MRS. CRUMP
I’ve often wondered that myself. Maybe ’cause men expect it. Can’t imagine why else we would.
DAISY
You’re just saying that, aren’t you?
MRS. CRUMP
Look, if you want my honest opinion, I think the sex act is vastly overrated. A necessary evil, like high-heel shoes. And just as painful …
She returns to the table and picks up her cards.
DAISY
Some women must like it, mustn’t they? Kim Novak? Marilyn Mon
roe?
MRS. CRUMP
I can’t answer for movie stars … One thing I can vouch for. It wasn’t sex that killed my husband; it was a bolt of lightning at the fourteenth hole. Poor Gerald. He was so much better with a golf club than with his you-know-what.
DAISY
(delighted) I won’t tell anyone you said that!
MRS. CRUMP
Don’t mind me, luv, it’s just the bourbon. One-hundred-proof whisky does that to me … (studies DAISY) By the way, why do you want to know all this? What have you been up to, you and Tim?
DAISY
Nothing.
MRS. CRUMP
You sure?
DAISY
I swear.
MRS. CRUMP
Ministers’ kids are the worst. My sister Joyce married a clergyman. Her daughter Connie has inspired more sermons than Carter has liver pills.
DAISY
Honestly, Mrs. Crump, Tim’s been a perfect gentleman. So far, anyway.
MRS. CRUMP
Well, don’t let him twist your arm. Or sweet-talk you. Remember, Daisy, you’re only sixteen once. Whatever you do, luv, don’t grow up too fast.
DAISY
MRS. CRUMP
I’d rather not dredge that up, if you don’t mind. I’ll tell you one thing, though. After it happened, I wondered what all the fuss was about. Hardly made up for all that heavy breathing … Ah good. Here comes your sister.
MARGARET enters, her book in one hand, her baseball cap in the other. Inside her cap are the mushrooms she has just picked … Something about MARGARET puts MRS. CRUMP on red alert.
MRS. CRUMP
Hello there, Margaret … What’ve you been doing all day? Picking wildflowers?
MARGARET
No, I walked up to the Baptist Church. It’s such a good place to write. So peaceful.
MRS. CRUMP
We wondered where you were all this time.
MARGARET
(shows DAISY the mushrooms) See what I found, Daisy. Chanterelles. I picked them out near the sundial.
MRS. CRUMP
How do you know they’re not Jack-o’-lanterns? Jack-o’-lanterns look just like chanterelles.
MARGARET
No, these are edible. Someone helped me pick them who knows the difference.
MRS. CRUMP
Oh? Who might that be?
MARGARET
Just a boy I met at the church. He works at Somerset Lodge.
MRS. CRUMP
Not Paul Wyatt, by any chance?
MARGARET
Why? Do you know him?
MRS. CRUMP
Yes, I know him. His parents used to rent a cottage here till they divorced … For the past few summers Paul’s worked for old Mr. Morris. Waits on tables. Does odd jobs.
DAISY
Is he cute, Maggie?
MARGARET
Cute? I didn’t notice.
DAISY
I’ll bet she didn’t.
MRS. CRUMP
(to MARGARET) A word of advice, young lady. If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll have nothing more to do with him. Not if you value your good name.
MARGARET
Why do you say that?
MRS. CRUMP
I’m a teacher, luv. I’ve seen boys like Paul before. Some girls are attracted to boys like that. They always get hurt in the end.
MARGARET
What sort of boy is that, Mrs. Crump? Anyone you don’t approve of?
DAISY
Maggie.
MRS. CRUMP
What sort? The sort that will lead you down the primrose path. Ever hear the expression: he’ll charm the pants right off you?
MARGARET
So?
MRS. CRUMP
So Paul’s the literal-minded type. He hasn’t learned it’s a figure of speech.
MARGARET
Well, I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. I only just met him.
MRS. CRUMP
I’m not blind, luv. I saw the way you came in just now. The way you looked. The way you walked.
MARGARET
What way is that?
MRS. CRUMP
Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.
MARGARET
I don’t.
MRS. CRUMP
Maybe it’s the summer, Margaret. Summer can dazzle and bewitch us, and do it so quickly … The Bible doesn’t say, but I’ll bet it was July in the Garden of Eden when that old snake sidled up to poor Eve. In February, she might’ve spit in his eye.
DAISY
I like that, Mrs. Crump.
MARGARET
Believe me, no one’s dazzled or bewitched me. Least of all someone I’ve only known for two hours … I do have a brain in my head, you know.
MRS. CRUMP
You’re forgetting, Margaret. I was a girl myself once. When you came home just now, it was like seeing myself at seventeen. The summer I fell madly in love for the first time.
MARGARET
I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. I’m not falling in love.
MRS. CRUMP
I just don’t want you to get hurt … Don’t suppose he happened to mention my niece Connie, did he?
MARGARET
Connie? No.
DAISY
She inspired more sermons than Carter has liver pills. Right, Mrs. Crump?
MRS. CRUMP
He’s probably forgotten her by now. Connie was last year’s prize. This year, it appears, he’s set his sights on you.
MARGARET
I’d hardly describe myself as a prize.
MRS. CRUMP
Wouldn’t you? Well, you are a prize, and don’t you ever forget it. Maybe you don’t realize it yet, but you’re a lovely girl with a loving heart. Oh, I know how it is at your age, all those feelings churning up inside … Just don’t let anyone take advantage of that, Margaret. Not the Wyatt boy or anyone else. Not ever …
She removes a ring from her finger.
Here. I want you to have this. It’s my birthstone. Take it.
MARGARET
I can’t accept that, Mrs. Crump.
MRS. CRUMP
Of course you can. The stone is aquamarine. It’ll help you keep a cool head … Take it, I said.
MARGARET slips the ring on her finger.
I thought for a time I’d give it to Daisy. But I can see now you need it more.
DAISY
It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?
MRS. CRUMP
Now sit down, Margaret. There’s something about Paul that I think you ought to know. I warn you, though, you might not want to hear it.
Lights fade on the cottage.
NARRATOR
After my chat with Mrs. Crump, I wanted nothing more to do with Paul. In an old English novel, he would have been considered a cad or a bounder.
That night, Tim borrowed his dad’s Ford and drove Daisy to the dance. I preferred to be alone …
The moon was rising over Wolf Lake. From far off came the sound of music from the Red Pavilion …
Music: “Listen to Me” by Buddy Holly.
Lights rise on a dock in front of the cottage … MARGARET stands there, gazing out at the lake. She clutches a bottle of Old Hickory, from which she takes an occasional sip as she and the NARRATOR sing along. From behind her, PAUL steps out of the shadows. He watches her, amused.
PAUL
Bit off-key, aren’t you?
MARGARET
(jumps) I wish you wouldn’t do that!
PAUL
Sorry, Maggie. I keep forgetting you might be saddled with a bum ticker.
MARGARET
Very funny.
PAUL
Nice night for a swim, isn’t it? Even the air’s warm … How’s the water?
MARGARET
Why? Would you like to skinny-dip? Just the two of us?
We could swim out to the raft. Dry off in the moonlight.
PAUL
Sounds like a great idea to me. Except for one thing.
MARGARET
What?
PAUL
You can’t swim, remember? I’ve seen you at the beach, Maggie. You always sit under that willow tree, and write.
MARGARET
I look too skinny in a bathing suit.
PAUL
Some guys like thin girls.
MARGARET
Besides, you can carry me on your back. Bet you’ve done it before, haven’t you, Paul? You’re probably an old hand at it. Isn’t that how they describe someone who’s almost twenty? An old hand?
PAUL
Now who’s being funny?
Pause. MARGARET takes a drink, and coughs.
MARGARET
Did you see the moon tonight, Paul? When it first appeared it was orange. Don’t they call that a Hunter’s Moon? Or is every night a Hunter’s Moon for someone like you?
PAUL
The Hunter’s Moon is in October … (indicates the bottle) That stuff’ll make you sick, you know.
MARGARET
Mind your own business, I said.
PAUL
It is my business, Maggie. In case you forget, we had a date at the Red Pavilion. Or don’t you remember?
MARGARET
I changed my mind.
PAUL
Why?
MARGARET
I just did.
PAUL
What am I supposed to have done? Or don’t you think I deserve an explanation?
MARGARET
What’s wrong, Paul? Haven’t you ever been stood up before?
PAUL
Why would you want to stand me up? Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we sort of hit it off today? Isn’t that why we agreed to meet at the dance?
MARGARET
What if it was?
PAUL
I saw your sister there. She told me she didn’t know where you were … Anyway, I came looking for you. All the lights were on at the cottage …
MARGARET
How did you know I was down here?
PAUL
I could hear you singing … Never would have taken you for a Buddy Holly fan. Billie Holiday, maybe.
MARGARET
Shows how little you know me, Paul. How little we know each other. We probably don’t have the slightest thing in common, do we?
PAUL
Like what?
MARGARET
How should I know? … Cars, for instance.
PAUL
Cars?
MARGARET
Yeah, cars. Bet you don’t know how many tail lights a DeSoto has?
PAUL
A DeSoto has six tail lights. Three on each side. Been that way since ’56.
MARGARET
Think you’re so smart, don’t you? … All right, what about baseball?
PAUL
What about it?