They have their exits and their entrances
Act 1 – Scene 1
(A bedroom, filled with typical teenage things. And some large, old books. There's a bed, and on it lies a boy; presumably the teenager. He has his arms folded behind his head. He has his eyes closed, but he is not asleep. He wants to be.)
BENNY: (Opens eyes.) No! You're not coming here today!
(He sits up suddenly and stares hard at the chair in front of the computer. He shakes his head, and then swings his legs off the bed.)
BENNY: He's not here, Benny, he's not here. It's just in your mind. (He frowns.)
That's odd. (He puts a hand to his mouth.)
So was that. And that. (He holds his mouth shut. It doesn't work.)
Why am I saying what I'm thinking?
(He gets up and starts to walk around the room. Every now and again he picks something up and stares hard at it, as if he isn't sure that it's really in his hands.)
BENNY: These all look like my things – I didn't mean to say that, either!
How do I stop this? Am I sure I'm not imagining this? (He pinches himself.)
Ouch! (Rubs arm.) So I'm not asleep, then. Or, if I am, it's really deep. Maybe I'm going crazy – talking to myself out-loud. But, if I was, surely I wouldn't be aware of myself being crazy, and, at the same time, be unable to stop myself from doing it. And it's not even consistent!
(Walks across the room)
See! I decided to cross the room, but I didn't say that decision out loud. (He stops and stares ahead.) And who did I just say that 'See!' to? (Shakes his head.)
This is too much. I have to see Grandma.
(He turns and walks out of his bedroom door, letting it swing shut behind him.)
Act 1 – Scene 2
(A kitchen, complete with the regular pots and pans, but also with a pewter cauldron perched on the work surface. Many of the herbs and spices hanging from the cupboards do not look like those you would buy in a normal supermarket. On one wall there is a large noticeboard, largely obscured by newspaper clippings, maps, and copies of police reports. In the middle of the room, there is an elderly woman seated at a large wooden table, which has a number of deep scores and burn marks on it. She is drinking a cup of coffee, and looking forlornly at a bowl of cereal at the place opposite her, which she had prepared a good while ago.)
BENNY: (Coming through the door.) Grandma!
MRS WEIR: At last, Benny! I've been calling you for ten minutes – and why aren't you dressed? Rory will be round to go to school any minute now.
BENNY: There's something wrong.
MRS WEIR: (Suddenly concerned.) What, dear? A regular 'something' or a supernatural one?
BENNY: Supernatural… I think. I don't know, but – I keep saying the first thing that comes into my head.
MRS WEIR: (Raising her eyebrows.) And you're under the impression that this is a new problem of yours?
BENNY: (Rolls eyes.) I'm serious, Grandma! I can't help but say any coherent though that comes into my –
(He stops speaking, though his mouth keeps moving for a little while. His eyes grow vacant, as if his mind is occupied by something else.)
- Hang on… (He frowns deeply, then turns towards the door he came in by.)
I'll just be a moment.
(He walks through the door, leaving a bemused Mrs Weir at the table.)
Act 1 – Scene 3
(The bedroom again. Benny enters, a frown still on his face.)
BENNY: Why did I come in here? (Looks around.) I was talking to Grandma – she didn't believe me – and then I came back through the door – back through the door!
(He turns around and stared at his bedroom door. With an irritated grunt, he pulls it open and walks out.)
Act 1 – Scene 4
(The kitchen. Mrs Weir is still at the table; Benny's cereal is ever more milk-sodden. He comes in through the door.)
MRS WEIR: Found what you were looking for? (Raises an eyebrow.) Which clearly wasn't your clothes…
(Benny looks down at his pyjamas – black, with very dark grey stripes. They're slightly too small for him. His slippers don't match. He shakes his head, as if frustrated by the distraction.)
BENNY: I don't remember…
MRS WEIR: What you went up for?
BENNY: (In a flat voice.) That I went up.
In fact – (Goes through the door again.)
Act 1 – Scene 5
(The bedroom. Benny enters, and then immediately turns around.)
BENNY: – I don't – (Goes through door.)
Act 1 – Scene 6
(The kitchen. Benny comes through the door. Again.)
BENNY: – think that I – (Leaves the room once more, and leaves his Grandma very confused.)
Act 1 – Scene 7
(Benny's room. Etc.)
BENNY: – ever actually went – (Goes back out of the bedroom.)
Act 1 – Scene 8
(The kitchen. Yet again –
The stagehands would like to intervene at this point to inform the playwright that this constant switching of sets is getting very tiresome, and verging on the impossible to realise. It really isn't funny anymore. Could it please be stopped – now!
– Benny enters, and stops. He sits down, and looks triumphantly at his Grandma.
Thank you.)
BENNY: – 'up' at all!
MRS WEIR: (Frowning.) I still don't understand, Benny. Particularly as I only got about half of that sentence. "In fact think that I 'up' at all" is, frankly, gibberish.
BENNY: There is no 'up' to go to. Whenever I go through that door, to go to my bedroom, I step out into my bedroom. There's nothing in between. It's like I just shift from one setting to another merely for the sake of the plot. Anything that isn't relevant can't be seen – more than that, it doesn't exist!
MRS WEIR: Are you sure?
BENNY: Yes! I can show you, if you like. (Goes to stand up – We're warning you.)
MRS WEIR: (Reaches over to pat his hand.) No, no – I think by now you've earned the right to be believed in this kind of thing.
BENNY: (Nodding.) Good. Er – so, Grandma, this is usually the point at which you tell me what the problem is, and how we fix it…
MRS WEIR: Well, Benny, I think you're going to have to tell me a little more about it.
BENNY: OK. (Puts on a 'concentrating' face. Eats some cereal.) Whatever coherent thought crosses my mind, I have to say it. This cereal's very soggy. Then I move from one place to another without, apparently, doing the moving bit in between. Really soggy, like it's been there for ages. Also, that door didn't feel right. (Pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. Goes to the door. He swings it back and forth.)
BENNY: It feels really light. (He closes the door and raps it with his knuckles.) Its sounds different, too. Like it's not as solid –
(The door swings open, hitting Benny in the face. A boy with blonde hair and a grin stretched across his face comes through it. He looks around, his smile faltering, until he sees Benny behind the door.)
RORY: Morning, Benny!
BENNY: (Rubbing his nose.) Mmm. Yeah. (Sits down.)
MRS WEIR: (Wry.) Was the door solid enough for you?
BENNY: No comment. (Scowls at Rory.) You might have knocked!
RORY: I did! (He looks thoughtful.) Well, somebody did, at least… I heard it.
BENNY: That was me! Testing the door.
RORY: (Confused.) Testing it for what?
BENNY: There's something going on, Rory. It's like we've got no control over what we say, or where we go – (Stares intently at Rory.) Hang on – how did youget in here?
RORY: (Slowly, as if speaking to a small child.) Through the door…
BENNY: (Leaps up, and starts to pace.) Yeah, but that door doesn't lead outside. How did you get into the house?
RORY: (Frowns deeply.) Uh… I don't remember.
BENNY: Where were you before?
RORY: (Baffled.) I don't – remember… At home, I guess. But I don't…
BENNY: Know for sure? (Turns to Mrs Weir.) And where were you before I came down?
MRS WEIR: (Puzzled.) Here. Waiting for you to come down.
BENNY: And before that?
MRS WEIR: (Worried.) Oh. I don't know. (She shakes her head.) I just don't know.
BENNY: So we have to say what we say; we have to go where we go; we only are when we are. Does this set-up feel familiar to you?
RORY: Not really. I mean, I've always been a real person, in control of my actions. Well, except that one time, which was pretty embar – Uh, forget about that. (Bites lip. He brightens suddenly.) Although, I've often wondered what it'd be like to be a character in a book. I mean, what happens in the bits we don't see?
MRS WEIR: (Eyes widening.) I think I see what you mean, Benny. We're inside some form of fiction.
BENNY: (Nodding.) Judging by the wobbly furniture – or set, I guess – I'd say that this is a play.
RORY: So, how do we get out of it?
(Benny looks hopefully at Mrs Weir. She shakes her head.)
MRS WEIR: I've never heard of anything like this before. It's a very potent form of magic that changes how things are. I'll need to do some research. (Looks up suddenly at the clock.) And you two need to be at school!
BENNY: But Grandma! This is kind of an emergency!
MRS WEIR: If you'd had a day off for every emergency, you'd never have been into school. Now, go! See if you can find out anything from other people.
BENNY: (Reluctant.) Fine…
(He goes to the door.)
BENNY: Let's go, Rory.
RORY: Aren't you getting dressed first?
BENNY: (Resigned.) I don't reckon that this is a comic farce. I'm willing to bet that I'll be properly dressed in the next scene.
(Exit ALL.)
