Dennehy THE LAST HOTEL 56519

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v!

LIBRETTO House lights fade and suddenly snap to black.

A light slowly comes up on a middle aged man dressed in the hotel uniform – a dickie bow tight around his scrawny neck needs adjusting.

This is the Caretaker.

The light widens and we see a yellow ‘Ladybug mop bucket on wheels with a wringer’.

It would be cute looking were it not for all the blood on it.

The Caretaker goes to it and finishes mopping the bloodstained floor.

The screens begin to flicker with inconsequential detailed images of the hotel they all work in – doors, carpet, light shades, bedside lockers, bathroom mirrors etc.

The combined images and the music – unnerves.

Intermittently we’re returning to the same image – 3 people shot on a CCTV camera standing in the hotel’s car park.

The camera slowly zooms in on them.

Suddenly they stop – and lights come up on those 3 people standing in the downstage.

A very beautiful Irish WOMAN overly dressed in expensive clothing.

An English HUSBAND and WIFE, made in Surrey, stand in anoraks each holding a holdall – both smoking.

In the distance - the sound of cars on the busy road.

A long pause before they start talking.

Then Woman:

Like I say I hope it’s convenient. (slight pause) Not in the sense of it being close to you – which

it isn’t obviously - but that it’s suitable – that’s what I mean. We won’t know until we’re inside the room, I suppose. I have been inside only a few times. I organized a function there once a few months back for a small publishing house – and they catered well enough – the hotel, I mean. Not that we will need catering…

Husband:

We’ll need to eat.

Woman:

Oh they do have food! A decent buffet too, I think.

Husband:

You’re hungry, right?

Wife: No. Woman:

I feel the same way. Naturally I’m nervous . Was it a nice crossing by the way?

Husband:

It was a little choppy.

Woman:

(distant) Right.

Wife: We sat in the car.

Husband:

It was painless enough.

Wife: The whole time.

Husband:

She was a little queasy.

Wife: We had to keep the windows up because of the car fumes.

Husband:

!

It was quiet down there – inside the boat.

vi! !

Woman:

When I’m on a plane and I look down and I can see the ships - car ferries and things – and I’m

belted into a tiny seat with a packet of Pringles – Husband:

Yeah.

Woman:

- it’s impossible not to feel jealous of those on board the car ferry. To be surrounded by all that

fresh air and sea – and it’s a damn-sight-better than breathing in the reconstituted air of an airplane.

Husband:

Right.

Woman:

Standing on the deck of a car ferry a horizon would give me a perspective

Husband:

Yeah.

Woman: – and not just a flat line perspective if you understand what I mean – but a horizon brings clarity – brings sensibility to your life.

Husband:

Is that your suitcase there?

The Caretaker has placed a huge red Samsonite case in the middle of the space.

Woman:

I like to pack for every conceivable circumstance.

Husband:

It is just the one night.

Woman:

Right. And you travel light.

Husband:

We do, yeah.

Suddenly a phone goes off. Each of them checks their own phone. It’s the Woman’s phone ringing.

Woman:

One of the children, probably. (she looks at the name on the screen and nods that she was right)

TEENAGE GIRL (VOICEOVER): Mum? Mum are you there?! Why didn’t you wake me up – where the fuck are ya?! I had a business organisation assessment at 11! I’m blamin’ you for this! I had to get Conor to school – he says he didn’t even see you this morning...! Mum! Ah fuck it!

Husband:

Shall we go in then?

Woman:

Yeah. (slight) Good to see you again.

The Woman wheels her case over to the Caretaker and talks to him.

Unless indicated - from this moment on - it is all sung.

The Husband begins – Husband:

Nice decorative features, feels homely. It's a deep red colour, I like that in a carpet. And it runs

upwards to – how many floor are there above us?

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vii!

WOMAN He’ll only give us 2 keys! The room’s being cleaned.

HUSBAND How many Stars has the hotel got? It says only 2 outside – but this is more surely? It feels homely. How many floors are there above us? th WOMAN Only the one floor. The 4 Floor. Only the one room – Room 4. He says he’s still cleaning the room and we’ll have to wait.

Husband: Only one floor at the hotel?

Wife: The fourth floor.

Husband: And only the one room?

Wife: Room 4, he calls it.

Husband: But it is taller than that. Whats in between the Fourth floor and here? Theres so much space, what could it be filled with?

Wife: Memories.

Husband:

From the outside it didn’t say much for itself but inside I can see that many people have enjoyed

themselves in this hotel more than 2 Stars would suggest.

Woman:

Let’s go to the bar while the room’s being fixed.

The light moves off them - and onto the Caretaker as he leaves the ‘lift’. We hear the lift door close.

He steps onto the 4th Floor and wheels the case. He stops and puts the key in the ‘door’. We hear the door opening.

He enters Room 4. The door is heard closing – - the music swells.

He takes a rail from off stage and brings it into the light. He looks at her case. He quickly lies it down on the floor and opens it.

Slowly he begins to take out clothes. Already on hangars he hangs them on the rail. He carefully places her shoes beneath her clothes.

The light moves off him and onto the 3 guests sitting in the ‘Hotel Bar’.

Woman:

It was to celebrate these new houses on the edge of the city. It was so much pressure. But he

was kind, your husband. I underestimated the amount of wine that would be drunk. People were left drinking water – when I started crying – and what did you say?

Husband:

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(Spoken: What was it?) Would you like me to fetch some wine? Don’t cry, I have a car.

viii!!

Woman:

And we drive.

Husband:

Don’t cry. It’s not too far.

Woman:

How peaceful he made things feel.

Husband:

The new houses they built – I fitted them with gas.

Woman:

I underestimated the amount of wine that would be drunk. People were left drinking water.

Husband:

22 houses – I fitted each house. 22. (slight pause) Are you fine now?

Woman:

The car is full of wine and driving back I listen to him like we’re sewn together. How lucky you

are – how kind your husband.

Husband:

Take some time and fix your makeup – don’t cry. People are drinking their wine – already they

haveve forgotten. (slight pause) And you walk through them filling glasses. And you carry your heart yet exploded. And not of this world you are. Better than all of these guests you are. More beautiful and perfect than everyone - born out of time – out of this Universe – not of this place you are.

Woman:

Is everything fine?

Husband:

And you carry your heart yet exploded – you carry it and fill glasses.

Woman: I carry it and fill glasses.

Husband & Woman: Woman:

Born out of time – out of this Universe – not of this place.

And all looking at me. All as it should be. I am at the centre of all things.

She carries on filling the glasses of invisible guests.

Woman:

Is everything fine? Is everything fine? Is everything fine?

A stronger light comes up on the Wife – as she stares at the bar’s television – trying to lose her self in it.

We hear the Weather Lady – brightly telling us it’s going to be a terrible day.

The Caretaker is standing near them. They turn and look at him. The room’s ready.

The Woman gets up and walks to the ‘lift’.

She gets inside.

She leaves it and steps onto the 4th Floor as the lights and Weather Forecast cut in the bar.

She walks to Room 4. She inserts the key in the lock and opens the door.

She closes the door behind her, turns and sees that her clothes have been hung up, her suitcase disappeared.

Woman:

Each of our rooms is fitted with a King Size luxurious bed. We offer all the comforts of home to

make your stay more enjoyable with a television in each room, an armchair and well-lit worktable and a small refrigerator. Coupons to gain access to the internet can be purchased at the Reception Desk.

During the below she takes random photographs of herself and the room with her phone.

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Woman:

ix!

And it’s a nice room. You think what will be the place – but it’s a nice place. A place that’s made

for my sleep. (pause) What footsteps have I walked in? How many have made it their home? Who has slept and whose dreams have turned in this bed? What clothes have hung and been left behind? Who has showered and looked in this mirror blankly? Who has made love here and woken with regret? No one. (pause) And he’s a kind man. And she’s quiet - and will she hold me? – will she mind? I will need to be held. (pause) What footsteps have I walked in? How many have made it their home? Who has slept and whose dreams have turned in this bed? What clothes have hung and been left behind? Who has showered and looked in this mirror blankly? Who might have died here? Some.

She listens to the message left on her phone and we hear it through the music. It’s her 15 year old daughter.

Daughter V/O:

Is this some joke?! There’s nothin’ in the sandwiches! You’ve given me nothin’! Not even

butter! What the fuck am I supposed…

She turns it off.

We move onto the Caretaker caught in a tight light dancing to the Tech N9ne’s, ‘Worldwide Choppers’ - loud.

The light fades off the Woman as she begins to take off her dress.

We watch a strange choreography where we see the Caretaker’s life liquidized into these 2 minutes of dance.

Initially humourous – it becomes distressing.

Suddenly on the screens we see the Woman shot from a CCTV camera in the actual hotel room.

She’s changed into another dress and a pair of shoes. She’s slowly brushing her hair.

The camera slowly zooms in on her.

She stops brushing her hair and takes a photograph of herself with her phone.

Eventually the Caretaker stops dancing - and Tech N9ne cuts.

The image of the Woman on the screen cuts out with noisy static.

The Caretaker stands there panting.

Music.

The light moves off him and onto the Husband and Wife who are still in the Hotel Bar. He sings – Husband:

They got themselves a buffet, look. Is there a better way to eat? I don’t think there is! To queue

for your food is pleasurable when it’s you who does the choosing. People tend to pile their plate – but not me. I respect the buffet. I get to choose – design my own taste, so to speak. You won’t find turkey on the menus of restaurants – but at a buffet – it always feels festive. Filling up now. Filling up for lunch. !

x! !

Seeing something - he stands.

She looks at him slowly walk towards that something – almost hypnotized. Throughout the below she tears at a paper beermat.

Husband:

Look at all these people standing with their plates. How many are willing their last breath –

praying it’s their last meal? People tend to pile their plate – but not me - I respect the buffet.

The Caretaker hands him a plate of sausages and mash.

Husband:

What if death was a pudding – and surely they would order some? Look at this one here –

ancient. (pause) The meat would look all the nicer knowing you had death to look forward to. How would you like death served, Sir? Is it hot or cold, sweet or sour, Sir? You’ll know soon. Filling up now. Filling up.

He turns back to her.

Husband:

There is money - to be made.

The Wife drops the torn beermat on the floor and stands up.

A slight pause.

Then Wife: Still feeling a little queasy. Maybe I should take a stroll. They’ve a garden out the back – maybe take a stroll there. Look out at the sea.

Husband:

Looks chilly out there. Put your coat on – don’t want to catch your death.

She puts her coat on.

Husband:

(Spoken) Is that a new coat? Bought new?

Wife: (Sung) No not new.

She looks at him as he sits eating his food. He looks back up Husband: (spoken) Wife:

What?

When did you kiss me last?

He won’t answer.

Wife: Why don’t you kiss me ever? You did once. There was kindness.

The Caretaker appears with his meal.

Husband:

!

(spoken to him) Finally!

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xi!

His Wife turns away from them and walks ‘through a door’, outside into the garden. The Caretaker watches her.

It’s cold out there – the wind blows.

She walks through the shitty rose garden and lights a cigarette.

As she does this - a light comes up on the Woman standing in Room 4.

She’s looking at her phone. A photograph of her face comes up on the screens behind her. As she scans through her pictures - images of her face pass over the screens.

There are dozens of close-ups. In some she’s smiling – in some others she stares blankly – in some she’s been crying.

Her phone rings. She answers it. We hear the voice of her ex-husband as the photographs of her continue to pass over the screens.

Ex-Husband V/O: It’s me. (slight pause) Are you there? (slight pause) There’s no good hiding – we need to sort this out...

She hangs up. The images of her face continue. She stares blankly at them. She presses her phone and the images stop.

She turns around. She sees something. She walks a few metres to the downstage.

Her phone rings again.

EX-HUSBAND: It’s me. Are you there? You need to get in touch with Declan. He said he worte to you a few weeks ago. Just call him alright. Please.

As if she were looking in the mirror – she starts carefully tracing her hand over her face – examining each pore, each line.

She stops – in seconds - sadness shatters her.

For a few moments she doesn’t move.

Slowly – she drops to her knees and lies on the floor - she curls herself up.

The phone continues to ring.

The light fades off her as the Wife smokes in the garden Wife: Breathe deep, clean all, replace, rename all parts of me. Walk anew, walk through and to a garden grown for me. Fill my soul, plant a thought, let it grow, carry me through this thing we’ll do. (pause) Have these flowers ever grown? Have they known colour? Have they felt the seasons passing, do they welcome morning? (pause) Breathe deep, clean all, replace, rename all parts of me. Walk anew, walk through and to a path being built for me. Fill my soul, lay that path, let it lead and carry me through this thing we’ll do. !

xii! ! (pause) Has this path an ending? Does it travel forever? Has it felt the seasons passing, does it welcome morning? (pause) Breathe deep, clean all, replace, rename all parts of me. Walk anew, walk through and to a sea being filled for me. Fill my soul with that sea, let it flow and carry me through this thing we’ll do. (pause) Will that sea save me? Will I float forever? Will I feel the seasons passing, will I welcome morning? (pause) Dark waves are calling - “The wife who’ll never kiss – she’ll take her breath.”

The light moves off her and momentarily onto the Caretaker.

He stands staring at the floor. Beneath him an ant passes. He slowly crushes it into the floor.

Around him the light widens and we see the Woman standing in front of the Husband – who eats the mash potatoes.

Woman:

The kids said I’d die fat. That fat was made from him – from him away – and knowing he’ll never

come back. I stood and looked and promised fat would fall. I starved the year – to brittle bones and hairy skin. And I was a tiny one – a silent one – but carved now to perfection.

Husband:

(about the mash) What is this!? (to the Caretaker) I can taste your day in this mash! Come

here and smell?

Woman:

Do I change the tone and colour of all things – does the heat rise – do hearts race – does blood

pump faster?

He holds the plate of food under the Caretaker’s nose Husband:

Can you smell your hands - your journey from bed to here?

Woman:

Does the world breathe easier now that beauty has found a face. Are you looking?

Husband:

Can you smell your hands not clean, the filth your feeding?! Can you?!

Woman:

Are you looking?

Husband:

Can you smell your hands?

Woman:

Say you’re looking…!

Husband:

Can you?!

Woman:

Are you!!?

The Husband scrapes the food onto the floor.

He turns to her.

Husband:

You change the tone and colour of all things.

The Caretaker leaves to get something to clean up the mess.

He passes the Wife coming in from the garden.

He stops and looks at her. Perhaps he’s about to say something.

Completely ignoring him the Wife passes him by.

She stops - and unseen she looks at her Husband and the Woman.

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Woman:

xiii!

Does the world breathe easier now that beauty has found a face. Are you looking?

The Wife stands watching them get closer to each other.

Woman:

And does the heat rise – does your heart race – does your blood pump faster?

Am I at the

centre of things? Am I? Husband:

For now.

Slight pause.

Woman:

Never forever?

Husband:

Never.

He watches her world visibly – slowly – collapse.

Then Woman:

(spoken) We will rehearse, right?

Husband:

(spoken) Yeah, of course.

A pause.

Woman:

(spoken and whispered) I need it to stop.

Husband:

(gently sung) Soon.

He gestures to her to sit down. She does this.

He then sees his Wife. He stares at her for a few seconds. She walks over and sits next to the Woman.

He sings to them both – his dream.

Husband:

Man is nothing without dreams – without vision we’re stone. On the edges of the village – down

Caterham Drive by Rydon’s Wood – in our 30’s house - with the recently replaced roof – is a kitchen who’s length is 12 foot. Arms outstretched and the walls can be touched – overhanging cabinets whose depth can hold only bad breath – a larder we call ‘the cubby’ – is seeping with damp.

The Caretaker returns and on his knees – he cleans the mess into a small bucket.

Husband:

Our dining room table – a solitary place to dine – is food splattered. Buried deep in the carpet

are dark secrets. It is shameful grime, a kitchen delivering misery each morning and evening. (slight pause) With the money – that we’ve discussed – fortune will change. Walls extending deep into the garden – and within those walls – a kitchen whose deep cabinets and surfaces gleam with esteem – whose tiles timelessly carry us to a future of heat beneath our feet. And to slice and cook while looking at guests seated around a glass table – is a dream that soon will fill this kitchen of substantial size.

Suddenly his wife throws up.

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xiv!!

Man is nothing without dreams – without vision we’re stone. With money – that we’ve discussed – our fortune will change.

Husband:

Let’s now… rehearse.

The Husband and Wife pick up their holdalls.

They walk from the light as the Caretaker wipes up the Wife’s vomit.

The 3 guests get into the lift.

They leave the lift and step onto the 4th Floor.

They walk to Room 4. The Husband inserts his key in the lock and opens the door.

They enter – he locks the door behind them – the music surges.

He opens his holdall and takes out an 8.8 cubic ft tank of helium. He attaches a red rubber tube and a pressure gauge to the tank.

From her holdall - his Wife carefully takes out a folded clear plastic bag and an elasticated headband.

He takes the plastic bag and pretends to fill it with gas.

When directed - the Woman gets down on her knees and he says something to her we can’t hear.

He places the bag over her head. He continues to hold the tube inside the bag as his Wife places the hairband over the Woman’s head – securing the bag and tube by tightening the bag around her throat.

The Husband counts 10 seconds with his fingers.

The Woman pretends to fall unconscious – collapsing into the Husband’s arms.

His Wife suddenly gets up and steps back. She can’t look. She turns away.

Her Husband removes the bag from the Woman’s head – and the rehearsal is over.

He carefully places all the instruments to one side.

The 3 stand quietly in Room 4 – the enormity of what they’re planning to do quietly shattering each of them.

A high pitched tone builds.

Above them the lights fade up and beat down on them.

The lights snap off to black.

Sounds and music !

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xv!

The screens flicker on with videos of newsreaders, advertisements, video bloggers, animals attacking each other, porn, football, babies laughing, celebrities – it is frantic, violent.

The Caretaker sits looking at them as he eats his lunch - a Subway sandwich and drink.

The sounds, music and images build to noise and suddenly cut.

The Husband and Wife are locked in a small rectangular light speaking to one another HUSBAND We’re doing the right thing – you said so yourself...

WIFE

But before it was only the telephone, though – it wasn’t real.

HUSBAND She’s reaching out to us. She’s in a desperate state?

WIFE:

We should go.

HUSBAND We’ve been planning it for months...

WIFE

So what?!

The Wife goes to leave.

HUSBAND We’re not going anywhere - Where you goin’?

A slight pause WIFE

To the toilet.

HUSBAND Don’t start confusing her – do you understand? I’m fucking serious.

FUCK!

She pulls away from him and leaves the light – The screens fill with a CCTV image of the Wife coming out of the Men’s Toilets followed by her Husband.

We see a CCTV image of her appearing into the Hotel’s Lobby.

She stops. She doesn’t know what to do – stay or run.

The camera slowly zooms in on her face.

She looks upwards to the 4th Floor.

The CCTV footage cuts out.

The Wife and Woman are standing in a long narrow strip of light looking at each other. The Woman has changed clothes again.

The Woman sings – Woman:

To feel like the Sun – to hear no breath but mine – no heartbeat but mine – to have others

only there to show me through their eyes. Where all is perfection – where every particle is made of me – the Universe is found in a mirror. Staring. Always watching me. (slight pause) To have this need to be watched

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xvi!!

– to have this need to be awed – to be loved in each second. To feel my throat close with that need – my heart ache with that need – my stomach sour, my brain tear with that killing need. No devotion can satisfy like this it is.

The music continues.

Wife: Will it give you rest – will it?

The Woman leads the Wife back into Room 4.

She chooses a dress for the Wife to wear. She hands it to her.

Then Wife: To hold words within my mouth - to remain silent at the edge of things - to will invisibility - to have no breath but mine – no heartbeat but mine – to matter little – to offer nothing – to hasten time – to live for a kiss that will never come. To fold so easily – to respond to his words – to his slightest touch – to surrender my heart for a borrowed stone – to dream barely – to settle always – to die for that kiss – for any kiss - like this it is.

Below and the Wife undresses and gets into the dress.

Woman:

And leave now and change to another and leave that dead one behind. And let it fall to the floor

– and with new skin - take to the stars. Rise above him and float and disappear into the ether as past withers – as time stops and space eases us to rest. No eyes, no words… (slight pause)… and no greed to be seen like me - or wish to be kissed, like you – it’s just - this floating. This forgetting. This renewing. This belonging. This beginning.

Wife: Rise above and float and disappear into the ether as past withers – as time stops and space eases us to rest.

Woman:

No eyes, no words… no greed to be seen like me - or wish to be kissed like you – it’s just this

floating.

Wife:

This forgetting of him and any wish to kiss.

Wife & Woman

This renewing. This belonging. This beginning.

A pause.

Wife: Will it give you rest – will it?

The Woman can’t respond.

The music continuing as they look at each other.

Wife: (quietly) Sing.

The Woman can’t. They’re not in the stars but in Room 4.

The Wife reaches out and holds her hand.

The light and music fades off them and up on the Husband. !

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xvii!

3 pints down and he’s staring bewildered at Siun Nic Gearailt reading the news ‘as gaeilge’ on RTE’s ‘Nuacht’.

The Caretaker appears in the light. The Husband looks at him as Nuacht is cut Husband:

Man is nothing without dreams – without vision we’re stone. The extension – of which I speak –

has greater ambition. Something unserviceable now serviced - and they see compassion – structured care.

Life’s a scattered journey. The service – of which we mustn’t speak – brings control. How would you like death served, Sir? Is it hot or cold, sweet or sour, Sir? Filling up now. Filling up. Filling…

A slight pause.

A pang of doubt and we see it.

He suddenly smashes his head with his hand to clear that doubt.

Then privately – tenderly Husband:

And pushing back – further into our garden – building on and stretching beyond a kitchen –

another house I will build there. (slight pause) And then over the road – and flatten the trees in Rydon’s Woods – and concrete poured over crushed trees – ‘til a village I’ll build from death – and more houses I’ll build. Filling up now. Filling up. Filling up now. Filling up. Filling up. Filling up.

The Husband looks back at the Caretaker.

Suddenly ‘Nuacht’ returns loud and this time distorting wildly.

The Husband winces with the noise. He drinks back his drink.

The Caretaker turns away and begins to set up a small Karaoke machine.

He looks upwards and suddenly the stage fills with garish party lighting.

‘Nuacht’ thankfully cuts – and Crash Ensemble play.

A telephone is ringing loudly.

The Wife and the Woman enter the bar - dressed identically – and holding hands.

The Caretaker and Husband look at the women – they see at once this new solidarity - which is not a part of either of their plans.

A pause. The Woman glances at her phone and turns it off.

Then Husband: !

Look at you 2 – you look like sisters! Isn’t this nice!? It’s all for you!! Do you sing?

! xviii!

Woman:

Not especially no…

Husband:

Me neither. Let’s all have a drink! What you ladies drinking?

Woman:

(to the Wife) Vodka tonic?

The Wife nods.

Then Wife:

(to the Woman) Sing.

The Husband looks at the Woman.

Husband:

Sing what? What about?

A pause.

Wife: Not tonight.

A pause.

Husband:

(to the Woman) You’re scared – I understand…

Wife: No. (to the Woman) Sing.

The Husband looks at her.

Husband:

I’m standing here, aren’t I? Sing.

A pause.

Her hope – is delicate.

Woman:

It may pass. It may turn. It may lighten. It may change. Something else. Maybe better.

Something new. Something rare. Something that isn’t me. (slight pause) Not tonight. Not in this place. Over the sea to set me to sleep – kind people – but no more push to death.

And no devotion can satisfy – and still this need to be watched – to be awed – to be loved in each second and feel my throat close with that need – my heart ache with that need – my stomach sour, my brain tear with that need. But… She falters. Her hope – ridiculous then.

She gathers a tiny resolve.

Woman:

But it may lighten. It may change. It may turn. It may pass. Something else. Maybe better.

Something rare. Something that isn’t me. Something new.

The Wife and Woman await the Husband’s response.

He seethes. !

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xix!

He slowly hands both women their drinks. He takes his pint.

Then Husband:

(speaks) Okay.

They toast with their glasses.

Ronan Keating’s ‘Life Is A Rollercoaster’ blasts out.

The 3 stand at the bar drinking as time passes – their plan scrapped – the Woman saved.

Choreography – as the Husband talks to his Wife, his Wife talks to the Woman – the Woman talks to the Husband.

More drink.

The Husband sees the Caretaker getting close to his Wife.

The Wife keeps returning to the Caretaker and him to her. Something is going to happen.

The Caretaker takes her hand. The Husband snaps.

He walks to the Karaoke and grabs the microphone – ‘Life Is a Rollercoaster’ cuts out.

Crash Ensemble play - as a light comes down on the Husband.

Behind him the screens fill with a Karaoke video in which he stars. The supporting roles in the video are all played by the Caretaker. It is a spectacularly ordinary journey through Surrey – but ‘beefed up’.

He performs to impress and win back his Wife.

Husband:

An afternoon in Surrey - a journey is taken. A farewell to his wife and destiny calls. His chariot

cuts through Caterham Drive - and soon to be in England’s pleasant land. Nourishing his body with what Heaven provides – fending off Irus – he travels onwards. He is being, he is human – he is man. Part now of the precision of this world – no longer floating but carving out dreams – making roads – wielding freewill – taking chaos and focusing life. And back in Ithaca - men build a castle worthy of his return, worthy of his wife. He is being, he is human – he is man. Nourishing his body with what Heaven provides – fending off sirens – he travels on. All life will be taken – part now of the precision of this world – he is stirring, he is returning, he is man!

The video ends with him returning to his wife (stepping out of his car in his driveway).

The Husband leaves the light and returns to the bar – as the Woman passes him.

The Husband looks over at his Wife who’s drunk – the Caretaker is even closer to her now and filling her glass once again. !

xx! !

The Woman takes the microphone – a light coming down on her.

A long pause.

She begins her song in silence Woman:

And they are coming home. And they are seeing me – the children.

Music.

Behind her the screen again shows a video in which only she stars.

She turns and looks at it. It tells the story of her domestic loneliness – her life imploding. It is pathetic – humiliating.

She looks for help from the Wife.

The Wife, caught in half-light, is seen kissing the Caretaker. The light fades off them completely.

Isolated – the Woman sings Woman:

Are you there? And beauty sours quickly. Darkness colours. Again.

A pause.

Woman:

In that house I fill it with black. It covers my man - so I mustn’t talk of love. He haunts the

rooms – and where does he rest his head? What beauty is he with? How black those eyes – that lured him so. No longer for him I wait. Wait until I can need no more. To rest. (slight pause) And what is it that keeps my breath? That my beauty can light the way – that my face can colour the gloom? What Universe have I made – that all should love me so? A terrible place where no devotion can satisfy – and surely it must end. (slight pause) How black those eyes – that lured him so. He haunts the rooms – and where does he rest his head!? What beauty is he with? What Universe have I made – that all should love me so!? A terrible place where no devotion can satisfy – then surely it is death!

She looks again for the Wife – but she can’t be seen.

Woman:

Are you there?

She turns back.

Woman:

They are coming home. They’re not seeing me. The children. (slight pause)

A light comes up on the Wife looking at her – Woman:

!

Let me leave!

!

xxi!

Lights snap to a new state as the Husband is seen dragging the Caretaker away from his Wife.

The Caretaker stands in the middle of the space - arms outstretched - waiting to be beaten.

The Husband charges at him and smashes him in the face. He hits the ground and the Husband begins hitting him again and again.

His Wife stands back watching him. The Husband gets up and slowly steps away.

His Wife holds out her hand and he takes it. For the first time it’s a show of togetherness.

This satisfies the Caretaker. He too wants a body.

The Husband and Wife look at the Woman.

Woman:

Please.

The music swirls wildly.

The screens fill with ghostly images of the 3 of them entering Room 4.

On screen - the Husband hurriedly attaches the rubber tube and a pressure gauge to the tank of Helium.

He snatches the plastic bag from his Wife and fills it with gas.

The Woman gets down on her knees. The Wife turns and faces the wall where she can’t see.

The Husband quickly places the bag over the Woman’s head holding the tube inside the bag. He secures the bag with the hairband – tightening it around her throat – opening the valve on the tank…

The CCTV begins to break up – and as with the music – it dissolves into noisy static.

A BLACK CURTAIN FALLS. Silence – a light comes up on the Wife’s face.

The sound of the sea and the low rumble of the car ferry’s engine.

We look at the Wife for a significant time – unable to discern her expression.

Then – Wife: How still the sea.

Music.

Wife: How far the land – the sea between me and it. Pulled slowly back to home. Night-time. Caught between sea and space – drawing a path to home. It travels me. In blackness we cut a silver line. (slight

!

xxii!! pause) The day spent walking the harbour. We sat in the car and kissed. He lies asleep in the bed now – and good dreams he’ll dream - dreams from my lips.

A pause.

Wife: The light still on in Room 4. I can see the light.

A light comes up on the Woman’s face.

Woman:

And death falls to the floor – and with new skin – take to the stars. Rise above and float.

Disappear into the ether. Past withers. Space eases me to rest. No eyes on me, no words to hear – just this floating. This forgetting. This beginning. New. A pause.

Wife: New life - please.

Woman:

New life here.

Wife: So still the sea.

Woman:

And quiet in space.

Wife: That light on her. Still.

A pause.

Wife: I can smell that room. Not the sea, not the sky – but that room.

Woman:

And over the sea and pulled back to their house -

Wife: – to the new room he’ll build from your death. I’ll stand in that room and hear you from the walls.

Woman:

Beneath the tiles my breath - still sore.

Wife: I can hear it.

Woman:

(frightened now) It stabs in here – it holds that blackness. It hurts.

Wife: She is there Woman:

It is there –

Woman & Wife:

Always.

Wife: She is there.

Woman:

It is there that breath. Still there. Always…

Their faces slowly disappear as the music engulfs them.

In near darkness - and holding a black plastic bin liner - the Caretaker stands with his back to us.

The screens suddenly start filling with CCTV images of dozens of people entering Room 4.

We watch them place their suitcases on the bed, hang up their clothes in the wardrobe, enter the bathroom – make themselves at home.

It is all very ordinary looking – but arriving at us like erratic gunfire – and now understanding that room’s purpose - it disturbs. !

!

xxiii!

The Caretaker (his nose bandaged) is walking around the stage shoving used props and costumes into the black plastic bag. His work is done – he peels off his dickie bow and drops it in the bag.

Sudden blackout and silence.

The End.

!