And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
Act 2 – Scene 1
(A school hallway. It has seen better days: battered lockers, peeling classroom doors, a fading school logo. Once, maybe two or three years ago now, this was all new, but time, and the rush at the school-bell, have buried that day. The stage is partly filled with pupils, male and female, of varying ages, and, since this is a school without a uniform, varying levels of dress-sense. More pupils arrive from left and right as time goes on, while others leave.)
CHARLIE: Did we have any homework?
JAMES: (Checking his locker.) Just for … uh … Maths.
CHARLIE: Good. I did that. How was your week-end?
JAMES: OK. I was at my Dad's – (The pair move towards the back on the stage and continue to talk.)
SUSAN: …and apparently there's this bursary you can get if you study engineering, and then promise to work for the government afterwards.
JANET: Doing what?
SUSAN: Engineering, and stuff, I guess. Bridges. Tunnels. Schools. That's what you'd learn at university.
JANET: Hmm. Aren't you going to need maths, and physics; subjects like that. Subjects you don't do.
SUSAN: You don't really need them…
(The two girls go towards stage left, heading for the door. This is interrupted by the arrival of another girl, who storms across the hallway. Everyone stops to look. A few moments later, a worried-looking boy comes running after her.)
STEVE: Ellie, I can explain! It wasn't what you think!
(She stops. He catches up with her. She turns around. She slaps him. People wince.)
ELLIE: You're a slimy, self-serving, brain-dead little creep!
STEVE: (Puts a hand to his cheek.) What was that for?
ELLIE: Oh, you know! We had agreed that we'd meet up and go that nice little café. I'd picked out an outfit and everything. And then, fifteen minutes before, you ring up and cancel. You've 'got something urgent'. And I'm left, sitting on the bus, stood up before I've even arrived. And everyone on that bus is looking at me – and they know, oh, yes, they know, and they're laughing at me. On the inside.
(As this row proceeds, RORY and BENNY enter from stage right. Benny is dressed only in his pyjamas. He rapidly realises this. While everyone remains engrossed in the relationship drama, Benny and Rory sneak off again.)
STEVE: It was important, Ellie! The team was a man down – they needed me to fill in at the last minute. I couldn't let them down.
ELLIE: You let me down, Steve. I thought you loved me more than your precious darts team. But, no. You're just like the rest. Well, that's it. Find someone who's willing to let you play about behind her back.
STEVE: It was one match! I promise – Ellie – please – it won't happen again!
ELLIE: No good, Steve. (She flicks back her long brown hair and strides away to the door at the back of the stage. She stops and looks around at the gawping students.)
ELLIE: (Sneering.) What are you all looking at? (Leaves.)
STEVE: (Stares after her for a moment.) ELLIE!
(He runs towards the back door. After a moment, conversation resumes.)
ASHLEY: (To DOOR, who has been scribbling in her notebook the whole time.) Who does that girl think she is, with her temper tantrums and her flaunting of her relationships? Erica Jones?
DAISY: Well, she falls short of that target. She's got nothing on Erica. Not in brains, style, or spite.
ASHLEY: Did Erica ever keep a boyfriend longer than a night?
DOOR: (Distracted.) Not that I remember.
DAISY: I heard she's got someone steady now.
ASHLEY: Must be someone in Toronto.
DOOR: Yeah. Not likely any of the guys in this town.
DAISY: (Smirking.) You're just sore because the only one you fancy is the only one who's gay.
DOOR: (Snapping shut her notebook and scowling.) That is so not true!
(Rory and Benny return. Benny is now dressed in what appear to be bits of costumes from school plays randomly strung together.)
DAISY: Oh, yeah, well, you could be right. Maybe he isn't the only one… (They giggle.)
DOOR: (Rolling her eyes.) Shut up. Anyway, what about your little thing for Steve? Is it the blue eyes? The mouse-brown hair? The ability to take numbers away from 501 faster than you can say 'calculator'?
DAISY: I…I…I couldn't say…
ASHLEY: Well, let's see if we can make it happen. He looks poachable.
DAISY: No! (Blushes. Lowers her voice.) Do you really think he might…?
DOOR: Got to go for it to find out. Leave it with us. There might even be a story in it.
(The three girls huddle together conspiratorially.)
BENNY: (Hissing.) OK, OK, I was wrong! It happens sometimes –
RORY: A lot.
BENNY: Not as often as to you. It's just lucky that there were all these costume bits lying about, or deliberately contrived; one of the two.
RORY: What are we looking for?
BENNY: I'm not too sure. We need to get an idea of how this started – how it's affected other people – whether anyone else has noticed.
RORY: Doesn't the absence of people screaming 'Help me, help me, I'm in a play!' indicate that people haven't?
BENNY: People wouldn't say that though. They'd think they'd gone crazy. (Opens locker.) What have you got first?
RORY: English. You?
BENNY: French. Hopefully there'll be some really distracting event in it.
RORY: Why 'hopefully'?
BENNY: I haven't done the homework…
(A school bell rings. The crowd of students disperse: some eager, other reluctant.)
(Exit all.)
Act 2 – Scene 2
(A dark room, lit only by a couple of flaming torches and a few candles on a battered wooden table. At this table sit two men, playing dice.)
SCHOTT: Seven.
BLISTER: Eight. (Takes money, places money. They roll again.)
SCHOTT: Six.
BLISTER: Nine. (They continue, never losing or gaining money.) What d'you think of the boss?
SCHOTT: The boss?
BLISTER: Yeah. The big man. What d'you think?
SCHOTT: I dunno. What is it that 'e does?
BLISTER: Not sure. (Looks around.) You don't think 'e's evil, do you?
SCHOTT: 'Spect so. We're 'enchmen. Those are the kind of people that 'ave 'enchmen. It's part of the job, ain't it?
BLISTER: (Looks around again.) Yeah. But – but this guy – is 'e not a bit too evil for us? I mean, this place… (Shivers.) It's pretty creepy.
SCHOTT: What's 'e like, this guy? (Quickly.) In your opinion.
BLISTER: Evil.
SCHOTT: (Rolls his eyes.) I know that. You've said that enough.
BLISTER: Well, I suppose, 'e's quite tall, swarthy-looking, with dark hair, and these strange eyes that kind of follow you round the room. As I recall. You?
SCHOT: About average height, blonde, blue-eyed – very pale skin, almost like a little doll – and never looks at you.
BLISTER: (Frowns.) Like I said, then.
SCHOTT: Yeah…
BLISTER: …
SCHOTT: …
BLISTER: D'you remember getting hired for this job?
SCHOTT: What is this job?
BLISTER: I'm not sure. Maybe the boss'll tell us.
SCHOTT: He hasn't already?
BLISTER: Not that I know of –
(There is a sudden gust of air, snuffing out all the lights, and leaving the stage in total darkness. At the right of the stage there is some irritably muttering, not all of it repeatable, and then a sharp click. The lights (electric) come on. The two men are still sitting, confused, at the table. There is a third standing by the door.
He is tall (perhaps artificially heightened by his boots), pale (perhaps artificially whitened by powder), and dressed all in black, from his stiff black collar to the trailing hem of his black cape. The only speck of colour is the distracting red colouring of his right eye, and his lips, which are stained brown. They are closed, but awkwardly so, as if his teeth are slightly too large to be contained easily by them.
BLISTER and SCHOTT leap to their feet. They do not look at him.)
TOGETHER: Good afternoon, boss!
ETHAN: (Staring quizzically at them.) I'm sorry, you are…?
SCHOTT: Ready to do your bidding, boss, sir!
ETHAN: Why…?
BLISTER: (Uncertain.) We're your henchmen, boss. Sir. Boss. It's what we do. Your bidding.
ETHAN: (Striding over to them, and running an eye over each in turn.) Since when?
SCHOTT: Since – since – (Pauses.) I don't know, boss. But that's our role.
ETHAN: I don't really need anyone to do my bidding. Henchmen? What am I running here? SPECTRE? (Looks down, and realises why they aren't looking straight at him.) Why am I dressed like this…? (Shakes his head.) What were you two doing before I arrived?
SCHOTT: Sorry, boss, we were having lunch.
BLISTER: We're allowed a break, boss.
ETHAN: (Stares at them, his eyes unfocused.) Mmm… I suppose that you are. Lunch?
SCHOTT: (Nervous.) Yes, boss.
ETHAN: Right. And you are – employed – to help me?
BLISTER: Yes… (Glances at Schott.)
ETHAN: Then welcome to my house.
BLISTER: (Hesitant.) Thank you – master.
ETHAN: (Arches an eyebrow.) Perhaps you could be of use to me.
(Sweeps over to the door at the back of the stage. He opens it. The other side of the door is scratched, and a little stained, much like his teeth. He turns around. He licks his lips.)
ETHAN: Mr – (His eyes dart between the two. He wrinkles his nose in distaste.) – Schott, first, I think. (Gestures through the door.) Enter freely.
(Schott walks slowly through the door. Ethan nods to Blister, and then follows through the door. He closes it behind him. There is the 'click' of a lock.
Blister watches the door for a few moments. Unconsciously, he flicks up his collar, drawing it tightly around his neck. He sits at the table for a while, nervously fiddling with the dice and Schott's abandoned money. Taking a last glance at the closed door, he suddenly stands up and rushes to the door on the right f the stage. It will not open.
Lights out.)
