DR SIMON: [angrily] You come here drunk. You’ve been relieved of your own post. Remember, you are only a visitor. You have no authority here.

STEF coughs.

If you really cared for him you wouldn’t let him lie out in the cold. He should be brought inside.

She takes a step towards STEF. BETSHEB moves in front of him.

WILLIAM: If you touch him, Betsheb will kill you.

DR SIMON stops.

[Smiling] Perhaps you had best get out of the cold, Doctor Simon.

DR SIMON: One day, Doctor Archer, you’ll realise what you’ve done to them.

WILLIAM: I know what I’ve done: I’ve protected them from the likes of you.

DR SIMON returns inside. BETSHEB sits down on the wet grass and looks at the watch FRANCIS gave her.

BETSHEB: Time is slow.

She looks at her watch, willing time to go faster. STEF lies prone on the ground, silent. WILLIAM puts up his collar to shield himself from the cold wind. Silence.

SCENE TEN

The asylum gardens, night. There is a moon. BETSHEB sits on the bench staring at the night sky.

BETSHEB: [remembering AYRE’s words] I cup me ear t’ the glommen bird. Soul o’ the dead. Cryin’ out, ‘Donna burst yer ’eart, the bird is me.’

Faint sounds of a party and dance songs of the forties come from the distance. A man in his thirties enters wearing a party hat or mask.

JAMES: How you going? I was over there watching you talking to yourself. The New Year’s party is pretty good, eh?

BETSHEB is nervous.

You’ve seen me around, haven’t you? James, remember? I’ve been here almost as long as you. The nurses call me ‘Jimmy’; me mum, ‘Jim’. I saw you crawling out the window. I see you do that most nights. I can talk to you tonight because the ward assistant is drunk. He’s not bad, Bert; keeps us up with the war news. I wanted to fight. I tried to join up. I said, ‘I want to murder Germans.’ They refused me. They said they didn’t want murderers in their army. I should have said I wanted to kill Germans. James, Jim, Jimmy, murder, kill… No wonder I’m at a loss in the outside world; I haven’t got me language skills right. Want a fuck?

She doesn’t understand.

I can’t make it plainer than that. I suppose I should ask you with words tied up with little blue bow ties but I don’t know any.

He comes closer. She stiffens.

You can call me ‘James’, Jim’, ‘Jimmy’; I’ll answer to them all.

He makes a grab at her; she ducks away.

[Annoyed] Why the problem? You’re as fuckin’ mad as me; why put up a front?

BETSHEB: [quietly, explaining] Francis. Francis, ’e outcastin’.

JAMES: No wonder none of us can understand you: it sounds like a mouthful of marbles.

He lunges and grabs at her. She stands still, scared.