Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte Page #3

- And you're gonna help me.

- Of course I'll do whatever I can.

I've thought of you, and the house.

It's like coming home.

Oh, but everything is such a mess.

You see,

I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow.

We're together.

That's the important thing.

Yes, of course it is.

Miss Charlotte's room.

Remember the night you taught me

to smoke my first cigarette and you -

or was it I? - Set the drapes on fire?

I was the one they whopped, I know.

No! That's Velma's job.

Yes, but Velma's... well, Velma.

It's just that we haven't

seen each other in so long,

you'd think we'd have

other things to talk about.

I mean, arguing about

who's going to make up the bed.

If you all want me

to fix supper for you,

you better eat early,

cos I gotta get home.

Well, thank you, Velma.

Is that an invitation?

No.

I just reckoned you'd be sniffing

around here

more than usual now

that Miss Miriam's back.

There's nothing like a family reunion.

I think I'll just get the key

to the cellar.

Just thinks he's gonna get

the key to the cellar.

I didn't know I ever told you

where the keys to the cellar were.

Thank you, sir.

I can't remember

when I last dined in here.

Papa used to say

this was his favourite room.

I guess maybe that's cos

he loved to eat so much.

When this nonsense

about the house is straightened out,

we could give parties here again.

Why not?

What's so impossible about that?

It would be lovely.

Yes, it would be nice.

Aren't you forgetting about the limit

they put on vacating the house?

You got to be out of here a week Monday

and no two ways about it.

Drew, you carry on as

if you were a member

of the Department

of Roads and Bridges.

Miriam will tell them where to get off,

won't you, darling?

I wish I could.

Charlotte,

you have just got to understand

that there's nothing,

absolutely nothing,

that Miriam can do about it now.

They are going to tear down

this house and that is final.

Oh, you're so stuffy.

They took their smelly old equipment

out of here, didn't they?

Miriam isn't frightened

of a bunch of crooked politicians.

It wouldn't surprise me to find out

that Jewel Mayhew was behind all this.

Charlotte, that is ridiculous.

Is it? You notice

they're not laying a finger on her land.

They're destroying my house

but they're not touching hers.

I've rented a car for you, Miriam.

You can go tomorrow.

- Go where?

- To Baton Rouge,

to put that damned

county commissioner straight.

Charlotte, there's nothing

I wouldn't do for you, if I could.

You know that.

But I'm afraid Drew's right.

There isn't anything

we can do about the house.

You have to leave.

What do you think

I asked you here for?

Company?

I thought you were gonna help me!

But I shall. That's why I came:

To help, to be with you.

To be with me?

I've lived alone here

ever since Papa died.

The only people I've ever seen

are Velma and Drew,

who comes out when he feels like it,

just to see if I'm still alive.

And a bunch of sniggering idiots

who come out here to make fun of me.

Do you think I'd ask you back here

just to be with me?

Charlotte, she's only trying

to lend a helping hand.

Oh, yes. I can see that.

She's just breaking her back.

God, do you have gratitude!

When you first came here,

after your Papa died,

you acted as if we weren't

good enough for you.

And your mama

a sorry up-North waitress.

Charlotte, that's enough.

Let her talk, if insulting me

gives her any satisfaction.

When you first came here,

Papa bought you a whole new wardrobe.

Does it insult you to remember that?

Yes, I remember he took

your poor up-North cousin downtown

for a whole new wardrobe

to a sleazy store

he wouldn't let you set foot in.

That wasn't good enough for you?

Papa didn't give you enough?

Maybe that's what you came back here for:

To get the rest of Papa's money.

Charlotte, I have a career, and

I've given up valuable time to come here.

Oh, I know. Now, let me see,

what is it you call your job?

Oh, yes, public relations.

Sounds like something pretty dirty to me.

The dirt is entirely in your own mind.

I wouldn't dwell on it, Charlotte.

She didn't come here to be insulted.

Most likely she came back to help

Jewel Mayhew drive me out of my house.

Charlotte, you don't believe that.

Why wouldn't Miriam

conspire with Jewel against me?

Who was it went sneaking off to Jewel

and told her about her husband and me

in the first place?

Didn't know about that, did you, Drew?

That's something you never told

your precious boyfriend.

Isn't that so, Miriam?

Isnt it, cousin darling?

Yes, I told Jewel.

And I told your father, too.

Why wouldn't I? After all,

I wasn't much more than a child then.

All I ever got in this house

was people telling me how lucky I was.

And your father always favouring you,

and holding you up as an example.

Why wouldn't I tell him

that his pure, darling little girl

was having a dirty little affair

with a married man?

You're a vile, sorry little b*tch!

How was I to know it would end in murder?

With John being butchered?

No, you couldn't have known that.

And you couldn't have known

that when Drew found out,

he was so frightened of having

his fine name linked with ours

that he'd walk out on you.

But Drew's still here,

and you're both still alive, and...

and I'm still here.

But John...

John never even...

John?

John?

John.

John.

She is deranged, Drew.

She must be.

Well, no. She's certainly worse

than when I last wrote you,

but not to the extent of being committed.

I'm sorry.

There's just no way to avoid the problem.

There are times when she genuinely

doesn't know what she's saying, but...

On the other hand,

I thought she described

the way you left me

rather accurately.

If it's any comfort,

I've always regretted having let you go.

We don't have time for regrets now, Drew.

And there is a lot to regret.

John.

John?

What a shame.

With all that money, she could have done

such wonderful things with this place.

Made it so beautiful again.

How could she stand

being alone here all these years?

People who are obliged

to live alone have a habit

of creating company for themselves.

Innocent fancies can become

fixed delusions.

I think she never fully accepted

John Mayhew's death.

At least part of her mind hasn't.

Sometimes she speaks of him

as if he were still alive,

here in this house.

As if she could

still feel his personality.

She plays that old harpsichord,

the song he wrote for her.

Often, at night, she sits up dressed,

as if she were still young

and expecting a beau.

I seem to remember expecting

something like that once myself.

You're going to be all right here?

I could stay over.

You've let me get along on my own

all these years.

I don't think

another night is gonna kill me.

I guess you're right.

- Maybe you'd better have this.

- What on earth for?

You never know. You do have people

skulking around here occasionally.

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