DEVLIN (cont.) Listen. This chap you were just talking about . . . I mean this chap you and I have been talking about . . . in a manner of speaking . . . when exactly did you meet him? I mean when did all this happen exactly? I haven’t . . . how can I put this . . . quite got it into focus. Was it before you knew me or after you knew me? That’s a question of some importance. I’m sure you’ll appreciate that.

REBECCA By the way, there’s something I’ve been dying to tell you.

DEVLIN What?

REBECCA It was when I was writing a note, a few notes for the laundry. Well . . . to put it bluntly . . . a laundry list. Well, I put my pen on that little coffee table and it rolled off.

DEVLIN No?

REBECCA It rolled right off, onto the carpet. In front of my eyes.

DEVLIN Good God.

REBECCA This pen, this perfectly innocent pen.

DEVLIN You can’t know it was innocent.

REBECCA Why not?

DEVLIN Because you don’t know where it had been. You don’t know how many other hands have held it, how many other hands have written with it, what other people have been doing with it. You know nothing of its history. You know nothing of its parents’ history.

REBECCA A pen has no parents.

Pause.

DEVLIN You can’t sit there and say things like that.

REBECCA I can sit here.

DEVLIN You can’t sit there and say things like that.

REBECCA You don’t believe I’m entitled to sit here? You don’t think I’m entitled to sit in this chair, in the place where I live?

DEVLIN I’m saying that you’re not entitled to sit in that chair or in or on any other chair and say things like that and it doesn’t matter whether you live here or not.

REBECCA I’m not entitled to say things like what?

DEVLIN That that pen was innocent.

REBECCA You think it was guilty?

Silence.

DEVLIN I’m letting you off the hook. Have you noticed? I’m letting you slip. Or perhaps it’s me who’s slipping. It’s dangerous. Do you notice? I’m in a quicksand.

REBECCA Like God.

DEVLIN God? God? You think God is sinking into a quicksand? That’s what I would call a truly disgusting perception. If it can be dignified by the word perception. Be careful how you talk about God. He’s the only God we have. If you let him go he won’t come back. He won’t even look back over his shoulder. And then what will you do? You know what it’ll be like, such a vacuum? It’ll be like England playing Brazil at Wembley and not a soul in the stadium. Can you imagine? Playing both halves to a totally empty house. The game of the century. Absolute silence. Not a soul watching. Absolute silence. Apart from the referee’s whistle and a fair bit of fucking and blinding. If you turn away from God it means that the great and noble game of soccer will fall into permanent oblivion. No score for extra time after extra time after extra time, no score for time everlasting, for time without end. Absence. Stalemate. Paralysis. A world without a winner.