Episode #146 - A painting has caused great concern among those at Collinwood, particularly for one who is the subject of the painting--and for another, the man who painted it.
Laura stares into the fire, willing Sam, who is holding a lit cigarette, to fall asleep. She gazes into the camera, at us, fixing us with frightening orbs. Sam struggles to remain awake as we see Laura's eyes in extreme close-up. Finally, he drops the cigarette onto the newspapers lying on the floor. Laura's eyes are juxtaposed with Sam as he fights sleep and the room fills with flames and smoke.
Liz enters the drawing room and calls to Laura, who doesn't hear her. Sam twists in sleep, unaware of the danger he's in.
Sam struggles, covering his face in his sleep, moaning.
Liz goes over to Laura and calls her name, twice, and finally puts her hand on her shoulder. Laura bares her teeth, her eyes wide, expression feral, and her concentration is broken. FIRE! HELP! yells Sam, who rolls off the sofa and burns his hands attempting to tamp out the flames. Maggie runs in. Get away from it! she screams, dousing the flames with a blanket. I think it's out, she says. My hands! cries Sam, holding them close to his chest--she burned my hands! Maggie covers her mouth in horror, asking what he means. I'm telling you--she burned my hands! he insists.
Liz asks Laura what's the matter--is something wrong? Recovering, Laura rises from the fireplace seat. I was startled, she tells Liz. My fault, says the latter, for coming up in back of you so quietly--you must have been very deep in thought. My mind was somewhere else, admits Laura, that often happens to me when I'm staring into a fire, I shouldn't have become so deeply involved. That expression on your face, says Liz--I've never seen anything like it before. I apologize, says Laura, I don't think I knew what was happening, or where I was--was it very ugly? Yes, says Liz--not really, maybe it was just surprise--I don't know how to describe it to you. If it wasn't complimentary, don't bother to try, says Laura with a touch of humor. It was far from complimentary, says Liz, disturbed, as Laura walks back to the fire, it was frightening. The women look at each other.
Sam, wincing, holds up his burnt hands, which are covered with towels. Maggie is on the phone with the doctor, explaining that she wrapped her father's hands in cold, wet towels--thank you, goodbye--the doctor will be right over--how do they feel? Pretty bad, says Sam. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? She asks--would you like a drink. Not now, says Sam, I couldn't hold a glass (good!). He chuckles--I'd like to see your mother now--she always said she'd like to see the day when I couldn't pick up a glass. Maggie hugs him, assuring him he'll be all right--it could have been worse. That's one way of looking at it, he agrees. She asks if he wants her to pour cold water over the towels. No, he says, the pain's easing up a bit--I think the left one us worse than the other one--I won't be able to hold a brush for a long time, I guess. She pats his shoulder, assuring him it won't be that long. She said she'd get me--and she kept her word, says Sam through gritted teeth. What do you mean? asks Maggie--who? Laura Collins, he says. Pop! she chastises. She did this to me, he says viciously--she burned me! You've got to stop talking like that, says Maggie--that's a terrible thing to say! I know what I'm talking about, insists Sam. The responsibility is yours whether you like it or not, says Maggie--I told you to watch that cigarette. That has nothing to do with it, says Sam. The cigarette lit the newspapers, didn't it? she asks him. I've never fallen asleep with a lighted cigarette in my life, says Sam. This was the first time, Maggie says. I'm telling you, he says, my feet hurt a little bit and I was lying down on the sofa, but I wasn't tired. You look pretty shot to me, she says. I was just lying there when all of a sudden something seemed to come over me, he says. I think they call it alcohol, says Maggie with sarcasm. You refuse to believe me don't you? he asks angrily. I can't take much more of this! wails Maggie, clenching her hands, things are getting worse--you get further and further away from reality, from truth--you're right, you're harder to believe now than you ever were--you blame everything on the unknown, the unseeable, the intangible--when I look for evidence, I have to see something, like...like this charred bit on the floor, I know what that came from! I swear to you, he says, Laura Collins did it! He holds up his hands, and she looks at them, then at him, not believing him. She walks to the window and gazes out Sam goes to his daughter. What can I say? he asks, that will convince you? I don't think there's anything, she says. There's a whole chain of events to prove what I'm saying, he insists. I don't want to talk about it, she says, the only thing that interests me as far as Laura Collins is concerned is what happened when she was here. That's what I'm going to tell you, he says, we got right down to cases--she wanted to know why I was painting these paintings, so I countered with the same question--she said it was hurting her relationship with her son. I'm sure it is, says Maggie, I can sympathize with her. Oh, don't be so free to sympathize with her, says Sam--she's not that sorrowful--you'd know it if you could have heard her threaten me. What threat did she make? asks Maggie. she said she'd see to it that I stopped painting, says Sam. If I were in her place, says Maggie, I'd probably have said the same thing. There was something in her voice and look that told me she'd meant she'd go all the way, says Sam. What did she do then? asks Maggie--sneak in here and put a match to those newspapers? It's hard to explain, says Sam--just some kind of influence, I don't know, when I dozed off, I just kept seeing her face.
Yes, that's where you and I are in complete agreement, says Maggie--Laura Collins exists mostly in your imagination.
Laura sits by the fire. She and Liz are silent, but Liz closes the double doors, turns on a lamp and sits on the sofa. I think it's time to take a look at where we stand, says Liz. Don't we know that already? Asks Laura. We know what we want, agrees Liz, but there seems to be a question about where we are--how are you getting along with David? Considering the length of time I've been away, says Laura, I think very well. On the contrary, says Liz, I'm forced to disagree with you. Why? asks Laura. I don't want to upset you, says Liz, but I'm not pleased with the way you're progressing with David--in fact, I don't think you're making any progress at all How can you say such a thing? demands Laura. Judging by his attitude toward you, says Liz--his first reaction was strange, but I understood that. He got over it, says Laura. It seems so, says Liz, but now he's avoiding you. It's just a stage he's going through, says Laura--very shortly, we'll be close than we've ever been. I don't know, says Liz with doubt--his feelings toward you seem to be apprehensive, even fearful. He can't be afraid of me, insists Laura, there's no reason for it. There are strong indications of it, says Liz. He's only a child, his emotions change every 15 minutes, says Laura. He's had nightmares ever since you came back to Collinsport, says Liz, and they seem to grow worse. But you're placing too much importance on dreams, insists Laura. Recurring dreams are an indication of disturbance, says Liz. That can easily be explained, says Laura--I think it's that dreadful painting hanging in his room. that's possible, agrees Liz, but it's not the whole answer--you're a very different person than you used to be. Would you prefer me to be the old way? asks Laura. No, says Liz. I think perhaps I need more help than I thought, says Laura--David should be encouraged to spend more time with me. Would that do anything with his nightmares? Asks Liz. Possibly not, agrees Laura, but I think that painting should be removed from his room--from the house!--I think then maybe his dreams would stop. It would help, I'm sure, agrees Liz, rising--I don't know why he wants it I didn't want him to have it, says Laura, but he flattered me into it by saying he wanted a picture of me. I don't know what made Sam paint a picture like that, says Liz--I know his work, and it isn't his style. I went to his house tonight to try and find out, says Laura--he was vague, drunk, impossible--he started another painting almost exactly like the one in David's room. Why would he do a thing like that? asks Liz. I don't know, but he's got to stop, insists Laura--it's ruining everything for me
--and I haven't much time. At this wistful statement, Liz eyes Laura strangely.
You haven't time? asks Liz. It's just that I haven't time to stay to do what I tried to do, says Laura, sitting by the fire. Do you think you could walk in and have everything go your way? asks Liz. No, but I didn't expect to find the kind of obstacles that I found, says Laura. Roger enters, greets them both and asks if they're warming themselves by the fire. Laura and I were talking abut David, says Liz, and I think you ought to hear what I have to say. I'd like to, says Roger. I think Laura's presence here is disturbing to David, says Liz. Now really, Liz, objects Roger. His behavior and nightmares...begins Liz. That child has always misbehaved, says Roger, and had the worst possible dreams imaginable, for David, it's running true to form. I insist there's something different about him this time, says Liz. I'm sure I know what's at the bottom of this, says Laura--that painting. What painting? asks roger. That horrible thing Sam Evans did of me, says Laura. You mean the one of the fire? asks Roger. Yes, David has it up in his room, says Laura. What's it doing here? asks Roger, annoyed. It was given to him, says Laura. And it's affecting him, says Liz. I called Evans every name in the book when I saw that painting, says Roger. And it's pointed up something, says Liz--something we must all consider carefully--the relationship between David and Laura isn't progressing--in fact, it's worsened. That is not altogether true, says Laura. It seems to be they're getting along very well, says Roger. That's because you haven't paid close enough attention, points out Liz. It's because of that painting, says Laura, it's frightened David, caused him to have nightmares--it's got to be taken away from him. I'll take care of it, Roger assures his wife. The curious thing is, David wants it, says Liz. Not curious at all, knowing David, says Roger. Another thing, says Laura--Sam has started another one, almost exactly like the one in David's room. Evans has gone absolutely mad, says Roger. I consider it a deliberate attack against me, says Laura--I want you to do something about it. I will, says Roger, rising--I won't have him doing these insulting paintings. Where are you going? Liz asks him. To Evans' house and out an end to it, says Roger. How are you going to stop him? asks Laura. That's my problem, says Roger. There's a knock at the door; Roger volunteers to get it. Maggie Evans, says Roger, opening the door--this is quite a surprise. Laura, started, looks at the visitor. Roger invites Maggie in. She apologizes for disturbing him at this house. quite all right, he assures her. Laura looks nervous. I was wondering if I might speak with Mrs. Collins, says Maggie. Of course, says Roger--Laura? Laura turns to face Maggie and greets her cordially. Maggie would like to speak to you, says Roger. If you have a minute, adds Maggie. Of course, come in, says Laura. Liz says hello to Maggie and invites her to sit down. I was just on my way to your house, to speak with you father, says Roger. You were? asks Maggie--I don't know that this would be a good time for a visit--it isn't what you think--he's had a little accident--he's burned himself (she looks at Laura as she says this). How awful, says Liz. I'm sorry to hear that, says Roger--how badly is he burned? Just his hands, says Maggie. Will he be all right? asks Liz. The doctor said he would be, replies Maggie--he'll regain full use of them. How did it happen? asks Roger. I think that a cigarette ignited some newspapers, says Maggie--he burned himself trying to put it out--that's why I'd like to speak to Mrs. Collins. What did she have to do with it? asks Roger. I visited Sam tonight, says Laura--to ask him to stop painting those pictures. I was hoping the two of you could work things out, says Maggie, but it's worse than ever. How do you mean? asks Roger. My father is convinced that Mrs. Collins started that fire.
Liz looks suspiciously at Laura, Roger at Maggie, disbelieving.
That's absurd, pronounces Laura. I know it is, says Maggie, but it's stuck in his mind. How could he make such accusations? Asks Laura. There's no basis for it, agrees Maggie. I've never heard anything so insulting, I won't have him going around saying things like that, fumes Roger. I wish you could talk to him, and try to get it off his mind, says Maggie. I'll get it off his mind, Roger assures her, rising and striding for the door, have no fear. The doctor's been with him, says Maggie, and he's in a very nervous condition--the doctor says it's anxiety. I'll be as delicate as possible, says Roger, and leaves. I'm sorry to bring all my troubles to you, Maggie tells Liz, but I really didn't know which way to turn. That's quite all right, Liz assures her, I'll be glad to do anything I can. Thank you, says Maggie--I was hoping a meeting between you and my father would have a good effect on him, she adds to Laura, but just the opposite has happened--you seem to represent some sort of threat to him. Liz looks significantly at Laura, who tells Maggie, "I don't see how he can possibly think such a thing." He says you threatened to stop him from painting, says Maggie. Liz reacts with interest. All I did was, says Laura--your father started a second painting--Mrs. Stoddard will tell you the effect the first one had on David--naturally, I insisted he stop. What threat did you make? asks Liz. Only that I'd do something to make him stop, says Laura--what else could I say? What did you intend to do? asks Liz. Exactly what I did, says Laura--I told Roger, turned the whole matter over to him. I'm very bothered by the vagueness of my father's reasons for painting it, says Maggie--this whole thing seems very strange. Yes, agrees Liz, everything seems strange lately
--so man unanswered things--but we'll find answers for them--sooner or later--and she looks at Laura.
Sam's hands are heavily bandaged. He attempts to pick up a brush, but can't. Roger comes to visit. Just the man I wanted to see, says Sam--pardon me for not opening the door--he holds up his hands--but my dexterity is at a minimum. Mental or manual? Asks Roger. (nasty!) Oh, that's the mood you're in, eh? asks Sam. What is this latest bit of inanity that I've been hearing? Demands Roger. I've got to talk to you, says Sam. This is your opportunity, says Roger, sitting on the sofa, and then I'll interrupt you and have a few things to say myself. That's where it happened, says Sam, pointing to the burned spot on the floor--if I hadn't awakened, I would have had more bandages than these, or maybe worse. I understand that your version of this happening does not include a cigarette and some newspapers. Sure, says Sam, the cigarettes and newspapers got together and made these second degree burns--what I want to know is, what made them get together? Well, says Roger, alcohol would be my guess. No, says Sam, something beyond comprehension--your wife burned my hands. I was waiting for you to say that, says Roger accusingly. It's true! says Sam. You mean she came in here and lit a match to you? asks Roger. No, says Sam, the same thing--she caused this to happen--she told me she was going to see to it that I never painted again--and this is what happened to my hands! Preposterous, says Roger. It may sound that way, says Sam, but she's got some kind of an influence--call it hypnotic--call it what you will--I just know she made me burn my hands! I'll call it the power of suggests, says Roger, on an alcohol filled mind of a fool--you deserved those burns, Evans, for painting that vile picture of Laura--I can't sympathize with you, I don't think you've gotten half of what you deserve! I just want some understanding, pleads Sam. Not until you stop accusing my wife of impossible things, insists Roger. I'm telling you, we're both in very big trouble! Says Sam. No, says Roger, just you--now, I understand that you've started painting another portrait of Laura--where is it? They both stand. Over there on the easel, says Sam. I'll finish that one for you right now, promises Roger, going to the easel. He lifts the cover. Well, it's already bee destroyed, says Roger, making a face. What do you mean? asks Sam, coming over. There's a huge hole in the painting. How can that be? asks Sam, stunned. What are you talking about? asks Roger.
The fire, says Sam--it wasn't anywhere near the painting! Both men gaze at the destruction, shocked.
NOTES: We know Laura did this to Sam, but only Liz seems to be suspicious of Laura, and learning what happened to Sam only underscored her feelings that all is not quite right with Laura. It's obvious that Laura is quite vindictive, and now she's successfully destroyed the second painting, too. Sam has been successfully thwarted, but will Laura have to "burn" some sense into Liz, too? How will she go about assuaging Liz' mounting concern and fear? We know Liz will never turn David over to Laura feeling this way about the situation!
I actually thought Roger pretty gentle with Sam, considering how angry he was with him. How will this situation be resolved between these two men? Will Roger blame Sam's alcohol haze on this latest odd event of the painting burning feet away from the spot where the fire ignited?
Those scenes of Laura attempting to set Sam on fire were pretty cool, and scary, too. Sam could have completely gone up in flames, died, and I suspect that's what Laura was truly trying to accomplish. She probably considers dying by fire an honor for anyone, too! Now that his hands have been rendered unusable, will be turn to painting with his feet, or perhaps by taking his brush in his mouth?
How awful to be Sam--a drunk who falls asleep with a lit cigarette--who believes him? Not even his own daughter! Yet, always the good daughter, she is concerned enough to go to Collinwood to see Laura--but Laura is convincing, and only Liz continues to be suspicious.
Episode #147 - Mystery surrounds many of the residents of Collinwood. Many questions are left unanswered. No one can explain the existence of a terrifying and fascinating painting, but one man is bent on destroying it.
Roger enters David's room, calling to his son. David isn't there. Roger gazes at the portrait of Laura hanging on the wall, his face set, angry. He starts to take it down, but David comes in and demands to know what he's doing. Roger hastily drops his hands, but tells his son that he's going to take it down
--I'm going to throw it into the rubbish where it belongs. You can't--it's not yours, protests David--Miss Winters gave it to me! Why Vicki would give you a thing like that, I can't imagine, says Roger sourly. She gave it to me because I like it, and want it, and you can't have it, insists David. Why would you want a painting of your mother burning alive? demands Roger--do you hate her that much? David looks down, ashamed. I don't hate my mother, he says. Then you should be as anxious as I am to destroy this gruesome thing! says Roger. I'm supposed to have it! says David. What does that mean? asks Roger. I don't know, says David, all I know is, I feel it's important for it to stay in this room--something tells me it is. Yes, one of your ghostly acquaintances, I suppose, says Roger sarcastically. I don't care whether you believe me or not, says David--you can't take my picture--he goes to the painting--it means something!--something important! Roger turns to David, who is staring plaintively at the painting.
What great significance does this hideous thing possibly have for you? asks Roger. I don't know, says David, all I know is, I have this feeling you shouldn't take it away--you can't! Oh, I can't, can't I? says Roger, striding purposely toward the painting again. David grabs his arm, asking what difference it makes--why do you care if I have it or not? Because it's a painting of your mother, and it's grotesque--and I don't want you to think of her that way, insists Roger. How do you want me to think of her? asks David. As someone very special, who loves you very much, says Roger. Why? asks David. Because she DOES love you, says roger, and that's the way you should think of her! You want her to take me away, don't you? asks David. (bingo!) Of course not, says Roger. Yes you do--you want to get rid of me because you hate me! accuses David--well I hate you, too, and I hope you die! He repeats it again and throws himself onto his bed, crying. Roger sits on David's bed. David, he says gently. Go away! says David. Roger reaches for David's shoulder--look at me, son, he says. David burrows his face into the bedspread. I don't want to look at you, he says. Roger takes his hand away. You have the wrong slant on a lot of things, he says, I don't hate you. David looks at him. You don't? he asks (such a pathetic face). Of course I don't! says Roger--you're my own son, how could I possibly hate you? You don't want to send me away? asks David. Of course I don't, says Roger--if you had to go away, I would be very sorry and miss you very much. You would? asks David, incredulous. Of course I would, says Roger--at the same time, I think it's only fair to give you a chance to get to know your mother--she loves you very much--you've often said you wanted her to come back here. I know, says David. Then why won't you give her a chance? asks Roger. There's something about her, just something that scares me, says David--I don't know, something. That monstrosity on the wall is frightening you, and that's why I'm going to take it down! says Roger, marching to the painting. No! says David, standing on the bed so he's close to his father's height. It's for your own good! says Roger. If you take my picture away, warns David, I won't speak to my mother! Please be reasonable! Begs Roger. I mean it, says David, I won't let her come near me, I won't, I won't! Vicki enters. What's going on in here? she asks in consternation. He's just throwing one of his tantrums, Roger tells her. He's trying to take my picture away, explains David--tell him he can't! It isn't up to Miss Winters, says Roger. If you take my picture away, I'll do what I said, says David--honestly, I won't talk to my mother, I mean it. All right, says Roger, if that's the way you're going to be, I'll have to give you your way--though I don't want to. David sighs with relief. Good, he says--I have to have that picture! Vicki informs him that his lunch is on the table. I'm not hungry, pouts David. You have to eat, says Vicki--go on. Do as Miss winters says, orders Roger. OK, says David, exiting his room. Roger sits on his son's bed. What do you make of that child, Vicki? he asks. I don't know what's the matter with him, says Vicki, but he's a very disturbed boy, there's no question of that. He's disturbed by that picture, says Roger--it certainly disturbs me--what sick, neurotic impulse do you suppose Sam Evans had to drive him to paint that thing? I don't know, I don't understand it, says Vicki. It's certainly ironic that he painted fire, considering what happened last night, says Roger--he burned himself--the drunken fool when to sleep with a burning cigarette in his hand--set fire to himself. Is he badly burned? Asks Vicki. Yes, his hands were, says Roger--it will be sometime before he'll be able to paint again. That's terrible! says Vicki, wheels churning in her head. I'd feel sorrier for him if he hadn't brought it on himself, says Roger--if he were sober enough to know what he was doing. What is it about fire? asks Vicki--David's dreamt about his mother in fire, Sam Evans painted her standing in fire, and then we heard about that fire in Phoenix, and now this--Mr. Evans bring burnt by fire--I know there's some connection, but what is it? What connection could there possibly be? asks Roger--just a series of coincidences, that's all. I suppose so, says Vicki, but there's something I can't help thinking
--these things that have happened--they all started when Mrs. Collins came back here. Roger looks at her.
Are you saying that Laura has some connection with the things that have been happening? asks Roger. I'm not sure of what I meant, says Vicki, but fire has figured into all of them--and someone died in that fire in Phoenix. It's nothing more or less than coincidence, says Roger--what else could it be--is there any other logical explanation? No, says Vicki. Roger gazes at the painting. I should be angry with you, he tells her, for giving this painting to David--you must have known it would upset him, with that imagination he's got. I knew it would disturb him, agrees Vicki, I don't know why I gave it to him. In future, begins Roger, I hope... Laura comes in, asking where David is. Downstairs, says Vicki, having his lunch. Take Laura down to David, Roger tells Vicki. Does he want to see me? Laura asks anxiously, looking from one to the other--well, do you think he does, I don't know. Of course he does, assures Roger, unconvincingly. The last few days, he's been acting very strangely, says Laura, I don't want to pressure or frighten him. You won't, says Roger, he's just taking him time to get used to you. I see he still has that horrible painting, comments Laura. I'm going to get rid of it, says Roger, don't worry about that--Vicki, take Laura downstairs. All right, Vicki agrees. I was hoping he'd come see me today, says Laura as the ladies exit, I waited all day, I don't know why he didn't come... Roger stares up at the painting a moment, reaches for it, then stops short of taking it down. Puzzled, he turns away, looks at it again, and leaves the room. (I am convinced now that other powers in the house, friendly to David, are seeing to it that the painting stays right where it is--to protect him and warn the family of impending trouble.)
Foyer - Laura asks Vicki if something happened with David--we were getting along so well, and then all of a sudden, everything went wrong--he's been acting so strangely--he seems to be afraid of me--why? David exits the kitchen. Laura greets him, and he formally says hello. I thought you were going to come see me today, I missed you, says Laura. You did? asks David. Mmm-hmm, says Laura. Have you finished your lunch already? Asks Vicki. Yes, says David, eyes darting back and forth. Then why don't we go down to my cottage for a while? Asks Laura. What for? David asks. I thought we'd have a talk--I'd tell you some stories, says Laura. David walks past her. I can't, he says--I've got to finish my schoolwork. I'm sure Miss Winters will excuse you from that, won't you? asks Laura. If David wants to go with you, agrees Vicki. Do you? asks Laura. I can't! says David. Laura touches his hair and says his name.
This causes him to rush away from her, upstairs. David! cries Laura, where are you going? To my room, he replies, and disappears. What's wrong with him? Laura asks Vicki--did I do something wrong just now? No, says Vicki. then why is he behaving this way? asks Laura--I don't understand it--if only he knew how much I love him, I know he couldn't be frightened of me then. Perhaps not, says Vicki. Could you do me a favor? Asks Laura--could you arrange for us to meet the way you did before? Well, I... says Vicki. You seem hesitant, says Laura. David is a very disturbed boy, says Vicki--if I seem hesitant, it's because I don't want to do anything that might disturb him more. I see, says Laura, unhappy. Will you excuse me? asks Vicki. Of course, says Laura, thinking hard. Vicki stops on the steps to gaze down at her, then disappears upstairs.
Burke, in his hotel room, stares wistfully at a photo of Laura. When someone knocks, he puts the photo down on the coffee table. Learning his visitor is Vicki, he invites her in, glad to see her. I hope I'm not disturbing you, she says--were you busy? Never too busy for you, he says, taking off her coat--what do you have in mind? I had to talk to somebody, she says, sitting on the sofa--I suppose it's very foolish...she spots the photo of Laura on the coffee table--isn't this Mrs. Collins? she asks. It was taken a long time ago, he says. She's very beautiful, says Vicki. Yes, agrees Burke. You knew her quite well, didn't you? she asks. (biblically?) I was in love with her, admits Burke. What happened? asks Vicki. She married Roger, says Burke. I'm sorry, says Vicki. Never mind that, says Burke, sitting in a chair, you didn't come here to discuss my past history. Actually, I did, says Vicki--I have to talk to somebody about Mrs. Collins! What about her? asks Burke. You're probably going to think I'm out of my mind, says Vicki--but I don't trust her!
Burke leans forward--what makes you say that? he asks. She lied to me once, says Vicki, and I don't understand why. What did she lie about? asks Burke. A locket, says Vicki--she showed me an old locket once, an heirloom that Roger had given her--and several days later, one just like it turned up in her apartment in Phoenix, after the fire--she denied she ever had the first one, but I know she did, because I saw it with my own eyes. Why would she lie about it? asks Burke. I don't know, says Vicki, rising--why do I have these doubts about Mrs. Collins--I want to like her for David's sake--I want to think she's everything she seems to be. So do I, says Burke, standing--tell me something--what's with Roger, how does he behave around her?--is he afraid or on edge? Not at all, says Vicki--he wants his wife and David to become close again, but aside from that, he and Mrs. Collins get along very well. That's interesting, remarks Burke, and excuses himself to answer the phone. It's Laura, says the subject of his and Vicki's discussion. I know, says Burke. I have to see you, says Laura, are you alone? No, says Burke, glancing at Vicki. Can we meet somewhere? asks Laura--remember the place we used to meet, on the pier? I remember, he says. Go there in an hour, she says, I'll be waiting for you. All right, he agrees, and hangs up. I don't know why I have these feelings about Mrs. Collins, says Vicki--I guess it doesn't make too much sense. Burke sits on the sofa--I have a few unanswered questions myself, he says, looking at the photo--ones I intend to get the answers to.
Down at the foggy pier, we hear boat horns in the distance, the sound of bells, can almost smell the sea. Burke lights a cigarette and props up his foot on a barrel. Laura joins him. You're late, he says. You're early, she counters. I was always an impatient man, he reminds her. I remember, she says. What do you want? he asks. I need your help with David, she says. What can I do to help David? he asks. For some reason, he seems frightened of me, she says, I can't get him to believe in my love and respond to it, I need him desperately. How do I enter in? he asks. I know how much he admires you, says Laura, he talks about you constantly--in fact, you seem to mean more to him than his own father. Maybe there's a reason for that, says Burke. She looks away. There could be, she says. Would you care to spell that out? he asks. I would rather leave certain things unsaid right now, she tells him. All right, he says--what do you want me to do, talk to the boy? Yes, she says, I know you have enormous influence over him, he'll listen to you. Well, says Burke, what if I do everything you want me to do--what do I get out of it? You'll get what you want--and so do I, she says. You get David--what do I get? He asks. Satisfaction, she says. Why don't you come out and say what you mean? asks Burke--are you promising to testify for me at a re-trial? Yes of course I am, she says. If there is a re-trial, you could be implicated, he warns. I don't care, she says. Why not? asks Burke. Because I've lived with my guilt for too many years, says Laura, and Roger deserves to be punished. In other words, you hate Roger, says Burke. Don't I have enough reason? she asks. I heard you're not behaving as if you hate him, says Burke--I heard you've been very friendly with him. Who told you that? asks Laura. Someone who has had a chance to observe you and Roger at close range, says Burke--Vicki Winters. Why were you and Vicki discussing me? asks Laura. Never mind about that, says Burke, what's between you and Roger? We're civil to each other, says Laura--I have to be civil to him, because it's the only way I'll ever persuade him to let me have David. Can I trust you? asks Burke. That's a question you're going to have to answer for yourself, she says. I have memories, he tells her, bitter memories. So do I, she says, but they're not all bitter--surely the same must be true for you? Yes, he confesses. This place brings back memories, she says--I remember other nights when I met you here--I remember standing right here, looking out into the fog, seeing only the flickering lights of ships passing in the darkness and it was as if we existed together in a universe that no one else could inhabit. He curls his hands around her shoulders as she glances at him to see how her words are affecting him. You're very beautiful, he says. You're very flattering, she says. It's odd about you, he murmurs
--I should hate you, I should be bitter, I should mistrust every word you say. She looks him full in the face. Do you? she asks in a sultry voice. No, he says softly. I'm glad you don't, she says. When we're together, says Burke, the oddest things happen to me--everything seems to melt away--all my anger, my needs, my drives--it's as if they didn't exist anymore, except in some far off place--and there's only one thing with reality--you. He presses his lips to her cheek, and she looks satisfied--GOT HIM!
NOTES: Quite the sexy film noir scene between Burke and Laura here, but it was apparent to me that she was seducing him by old memories and new promises to help ensure that she gets David, the only thing she really seems to want. I sense that she won't really help Burke win a re-trial, that she's only making that promise to secure her own evil ends.
What did Burke and Laura do in that spot on the docks, anyway, have sex over the barrels? I was just wondering.
Vicki is starting to suspect Laura in much the same way Liz does--notice how she's strung together all the fire references and incidents? Vicki may not be too bright sometimes, but she's all detective here. It's unfortunate that she's gone to Burke for help, because he is still smitten with Laura, still wants her, and that will hinder his wanting to help her. He's thinking with Little Burke now, which means all common sense goes bye bye.
Roger actually tells David he loves him, and sounds sincere--but is he? Is he, too, pretending, as Laura is with Burke, so that his son will willingly go to his mother and go away with her so he, Roger, can be rid of the child who tried to murder him? So many emotions, so much subterfuge--who is real and who is false? Vicki's concern is only for David, that's clear, but she has a job to lose, so perhaps her motives are murkier than she realizes, too.
As I said earlier, I believe that supernatural forces are at work here, keeping David safe, keeping that painting on his wall as a warning to all who love him. He wants to keep it there, too, because deep down in his heart, he knows his mother poses a threat and wants that painting up there so everyone else will know, too.
No DS Friday or Monday due to Labor Day marathons on Sci Fi. Enjoy the weekend!
Love, Robin
