Mac, don’t be so down in the dumps. Come on, the man is waiting. You’ll like him. He’ll take your photograph. Do you want your photograph taken?

FRANCIS enters in army uniform with a bunch of flowers. He watches DR SIMON trying to coax MAC.

I thought you liked seeing pictures of yourself. Come on, for me. Come on, Mac, it won’t take long.

She leads him off. FRANCIS approaches BETSHEB, who still laughs to herself.

FRANCIS: What’s so funny?

BETSHEB: Thou!

He gives her the flowers. She smells them deeply. He sits down next to her and they kiss gently.

FRANCIS: [indicating the dress] Beautiful. The nurses wanted it but I said it was for you. Only you. Elizabeth helped me find it. [Pause.] Why is Mac being photographed?

BETSHEB takes no notice of the question as she feels FRANCIS’ uniform.

He’s jealous of us, you know.

BETSHEB: Peter?

FRANCIS: He should have reached England by now. He’ll be stationed there. Live there. [Pause.] The nurse said you and the others visited Angel’s grave yesterday.

BETSHEB: Flowers, like this. [She bends down and puts her ear to the ground.] I ’ear op’n t’ the Angel sprit.

FRANCIS: I spoke to Ayre before coming out here; she’s looking better.

BETSHEB: She mus’ live. She mus’! She say t’ me: ‘I mus’ live!’ [Waving at the distance] ’Ello!

FRANCIS: Who’s that?

BETSHEB: Lorry. Gard-aner.

FRANCIS: The gardener?

BETSHEB: I ’elp ’im.

FRANCIS: I hope you won’t help him in that dress.

BETSHEB: This dress? Nowt dirt. Me weddon dress.

FRANCIS: It’s your good dress. Your best dress. You know we are not allowed. When the war is over you’ll leave this place.

BETSHEB: Wid Ayre ’n’ Stef ’n’ Mac?

FRANCIS: [amused] Yes. Ayre, Stef, Mac and you.

BETSHEB is suddenly disturbed. She jumps up and motions to a distant building.

BETSHEB: There. Our bedibyes. Glommen time.

FRANCIS: You go to bed at night?

BETSHEB: There. Glommen time. There is a man, he listens, speakin’ t’ glommen demon. This girl… [She squeezes her head like a vice.] She bits ’er arm. [She demonstrates a girl biting her own arm in an obsessional, horrific way.] I ’ate glommen time ’ere. ’Eads burst, outburstin’ wid demons.

FRANCIS: [soothingly] William can’t get you out of that ward; the asylum’s too crowded. Those people are mad, not you. The Government says you’ve got to stay here. You know that.

BETSHEB: Me quim is burnin’.

She touches FRANCIS’ genitals.

FRANCIS: Betsheb!

BETSHEB: [moving to him again] Thou burning. Eyebright.

She jumps him again and he ducks out of the way. She chases after him. They both laugh, like children in a game.

FRANCIS: Not out here. Everyone’s watching!

BETSHEB: Francis! Francis! Francis!

FRANCIS: I’ll turn the hose on you.

BETSHEB: [laughing] Burnin’. Burnin’.

She grabs him. He falls to the ground. She kisses him.