All the world's a stage,
And the men and women merely players:
They have their exists and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
Its acts being seven stages…
Act Six
The curtains draw on a twelve year old girl. She has long blonde hair, brown eyes and a slender, pre-teenage figure. She is flicking distractedly through a magazine whilst playing self-consciously with her hair. The radio plays at a low volume in the background. A voice calls from behind the closed door of her bedroom. "Jenny!
"What, Mum?" the girl shouts back.
"Dinner's up."
"I'm not hungry."
"Your Dad and I are waiting, Jenny."
"I said I'm not hungry!"
There is silence for a moment and then we hear the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opens.
"Jennifer, I'm fed up of this," her mother says. "I've made dinner, so you will at least come and sit at the table with us."
"That's so unfair," Jenny whines. But after a look at her mother's stern face, she follows her downstairs.
IIII
Sara is sitting next to Gil. Her eyes are watery and she is squeezing his hand gently. They are surrounded by other couples and children and before them is a stage. On it stands a blonde girl, aged about fourteen, singing. Their daughter, her voice beautiful and haunting,silencing the auditorium. As her song reaches its end, the room explodes with applause and cheering.
Sara and Gil turn to each other and lock gazes. They have never been so proud.
IIII
An argument is going on. Sara looks frustrated, Jenny looks determined and Gil looks exhausted. His age is starting to show. He is more than sixty, after all. He refuses to stop working, much to Sara's infuriation; he will not listen to her protests.
"Lizzie's Mum wouldn't react like this," Jenny spouts, glaring.
"When was the last time Lizzie asked her Mum whether she could go to stage school?"
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point, Jenny?"
"My teacher said I was talented. I could make it, Mum. But I'm not going to get anywhere slugging away at maths and English and history at school!"
"You'll get nowhere without your education, Jennifer."
Sara cannot stand to hear herself speak. She sounds like the woman she never wanted to turn into. Edging on fifty, with her hair greying in places, yet still retaining her beauty, she has watched her husband, daughter and herself grow into the perfect dysfunctional family: workaholic father, moody teenager and mother trying to hold everything together. She cannot decide whether she delights in the normality of her situation or mourns for what might have been; what she could have done.
"I can get an education at stage school – they keep up maths and all that boring stuff."
"Maths and 'all that boring stuff' are what are going to earn you a living," Sara argues back.
"Not if I have my way."
Gil decides to intercept. "You are a very talented girl, Jenny," he begins. "But your Mum and I have spoken about this and we think you should stay on at high school. When you're done there we'll see what happens."
"But that'll be too late," Jenny whines. "All good actresses start early. I'm already behind."
"Your talent will wait, sweetheart."
"You're so unfair!" Jenny shouts. "I hate you!" She storms out and slams the door behind her. Gil and Sara exchange looks. Observing the exhaustion in her face, Gil embraces his wife. Through the ceiling comes the sound of loud music and the books on the shelves begin to shake slightly from the heavy bass.
"There's one thing to be thankful for," Sara murmurs into the warmth of Gil's chest. "She's nothing like I was at her age."
IIII
The day Gil comes home and announces he is going to retire, is a cold, rainy one. It is not long after Christmas. Jenny, after yet another argument with her despairing mother, has gone out to meet a friend. She is a week off her sixteenth birthday.
"But why now?" Sara asks, confusedly.
"I thought you'd be pleased," Gil replies.
"Oh, I am," Sara assures him, taking his hand in hers. "But you always insisted that you'd keep on working until they forced you out."
"What makes you think they didn't?" Gil laughs, but his eyes betray sadder emotions.
"They'd never get rid of you."
"We lost Catherine to the East Coast when Lindsey went off to college, Nick and Warrick are still on night shift and Greg's getting more ambitious by the day – he's virtually my superior now. It's not like it used to be, Sara. I didn't think it was possible, but everything's getting more political. I'm like an old relic, sitting in my office with my bugs. I've been there so long I'm practically part of the furniture. I have to get out before I've got nothing else left."
Sara looks hurt. "There's always been something else. I've always been here, and so has Jenny."
"Of course," Gil replies. "I know that. And I've neglected you. I've wasted so much time."
"It's not too late."
"Yes, it is."
"What?" Sara looks confused. She grips Gil's hand. "What do you mean?"
"I'm so sorry, Sara."
Gil has tears in his eyes. Sara has never, ever seen him cry. She is panicking now.
"Tell me, Grissom, what's going on?"
The minute the words are out of her mouth, she wishes she had not asked.
IIII
There is a doctor in this scene, his status clear from his white coat and the stethoscope hanging around his neck; he is almost a cliché, with a pen protruding from his coat's top pocket.
"I'm sorry, Dr Grissom," he is saying, shaking his head.
Gil and Sara are holding each other, tears running down their cheeks. The doctor watches them, clearly unsure of what to say. He leaves the room cautiously; Gil and Sara sit in silence.
IIII
The family of three are sitting around the table. Jenny, her blonde hair cut short in a moment of teenage rebellion, has a flood of tears running down her cheeks. She stands up and makes her way round to her father whom she embraces tightly. After a few moments she excuses herself.
She entered the room as a child but she leaves it an adult.
IIII
Gilbert Grissom always wanted to see Europe with his family. His body is weakened and he now needs some help to walk but despite his doctor's recommendations, he was never going to miss this trip. He has seen Paris, Barcelona, Lisbon; they have been travelling for two weeks. Now here he is, with his beautiful wife and daughter, sitting in a café in Berlin, opposite the Mauermuseum. Out the door he can see the mock checkpoint, the large sign with a photo of a soldier, crowds of people wanting their photographs with the actor standing dressed as an American soldier. He is sipping hot chocolate slowly, Sara is reading a guidebook and Jenny is trying to make sense of a German newspaper.
"What does Umwelt mean?" she asks.
"Environment," Gil replies. Taking a last look out the window he adds, "We better be moving soon. We've got a flight to catch."
"Not already?" Jenny moans. "Where does the time go?"
Grissom sighs. "I wish I knew."
IIII
Gil is sitting on the wooden bench in the middle of the pod, watching the city of London unfold beneath him, the sun setting on the horizon. The London Eye turns slowly, but not slowly enough for Gil, who wants this moment to last forever. Sara takes a seat beside him.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she sighs.
"It's perfect. Like you."
Sara giggles, sounding twenty years younger than she looks and thirty years younger than she feels. "You always knew how to flatter a woman, Gilbert Grissom."
"I'm not sure that's right," Gil replies. "I seem to recall I was quite good with bugs, but not quite so suited to dealing with people."
Silence descends upon the couple as memories flood over them like an unstoppable tide. Here, halfway round the world, and now, twenty years later, those days in the lab with Catherine, Nick, Greg and Warrick seem a light year away.
'And now it's all over', Sara thinks, immediately banishing the thoughts from her mind. As though he can read her thoughts, Gil immediately takes her hand in his and speaks softly.
"I've had a wonderful life, Sara."
"Don't say that," Sara chokes, feeling a lump rise in her throat. "It's not over yet."
"No," Gil agrees. "And whatever time I've got left, I'm not going to waste. But when I do go-" He holds up a finger to stop Sara interrupting. "When I go, I don't want you to stop living because of it. Remember the good times, Sara. It won't be hard – there were a lot of them."
Sara's eyes have filled with tears now. Seeing Jenny approaching them to sit down, she hurriedly wipes them away.
"Hey, honey," Gil says, squeezing up on the wooden bench so that she can fit alongside her parents. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"It's amazing," she replies. "I've got some great pictures."
As the pod reaches the very top of the wheel and the whole of London is visible through the glass, Grissom feels a feeling of immortality wash over him. He knows that whatever happens he will live forever in this moment; his soul will live on in the love of his wife and daughter. This is not the end.
IIII
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"
Sara throws a handful of dirt onto the wooden box as it is lowered into the ground. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and she does not care that everyone can see. Her daughter squeezes her other hand tightly. Sara gazes at her child, blond hair tied back in a ponytail, her slender curves framed by a black skirt and shirt. At this moment she feels little more than a child herself, although she knows she looks even older than her fifty years. The feel of her daughter's hand in hers brings back memories of being led out of her home more than forty years ago by a social worker. Not since that moment has she felt this lost. Gil Grissom was her purpose in life; her guiding star; her everything. Without him she does not know what to do. All she has left is her daughter; she is plenty to live for but each time she looks into her eyes she sees Gil.
The funeral passes in a blur of condolences, tears and glasses of champagne. Gil said he wanted this to be a celebration but as much as Sara wants to keep her word she cannot be positive.
Once everyone has left Sara and Jenny sit down on the sofa surrounded by empty glasses and leftover food. Sara places an arm around her daughter and the two of them start to cry again.
Behind them on a shelf sits a photograph of a young Jenny with her parents. Gil is smiling warmly; watching his two girls as they fall asleep and dream of him.
The curtains fall.
IIII
Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of.
Benjamin Franklin
It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives.
Dr Samuel Johnson