6,000,001…

By Ian D. Hall.

Cast: Mr Kitson: An old man scared by images of war.

Nurse: Mental Health worker.

Ruth: Mr Kitson’s daughter.

Stan: A soldier with the Royal Army Medical Corps stationed at Belsen.

Young Dutch Woman, Elke.

Soldier: Private Ruggs.

Ruggs, Elke and Ruth are all played by the same actor.

 

 

Act One

The stage is split in two halves. The right half has the barest minimum of furniture, a wardrobe in which hangs a couple of ragged suits, a couple of ties and a threadbare jacket. Inside the wardrobe also sits various boxes full to the brim with overflowing papers and photographs. A couple of photos have spilled out and sit on the base of the wardrobe. To the side of the room is an old metal bed, its sheets and cover in a mess. To the side of the bed sits a chair on one side and under the bed an old army trunk with faded letters written on it and a pair of polished shoes. To one side sits a bed side cabinet with a glass of water upon it and a radio.  

The left side of the stage is a typical quickly made up army barrack, a couple of metal beds line up against one side and an army box sits at the end of each bed. An army medical uniform hangs from a window frame and on the window ledge sits a radio.

Between the two halves of the stage hangs a mirror signifying the partition between 1945 and 1975.

The play begins with Mr. Kitson and a young soldier both sitting on a bed facing each other in their respective halves of the stage. A radio is playing and the sound of We’ll Meet Again can be heard. Both men are staring into space and sat still. The man on the left hand side of the stage is holding a book. A crackle of electricity is heard and then lights go down. 

The stage goes into darkness briefly but through the darkness, the sound of a radio is heard being tuned in, the static and occasional bit of song being audible, the dial being turned until the snatch of a war time song being heard. The person tuning it in leaves the station playing. The light goes up on the right hand side of the stage.

Ruth Kitson is sat by the radio having tuned it in for her father who is sat on the bed in the same position as when the lights went down. Kitson is dressed in pyjamas and plays with the bed clothes, carefully pushing them into one big pile.

Ruth: See Dad I told you the radio would work; state of the art it is. I am sure I can find something a bit more cheerful than this to listen to though, something perhaps a bit more modern? (She goes to turn the dial again, slight bit of static, music from 1975 comes on.)

Kitson: (Slowly as if doped up) I like that old stuff, modern music… well it’s crass isn’t it. No respect for anything now, just long haired and full of themselves, think they are so bloody clever.

Ruth: (Sensing her dad’s mood turns the dial back just as the song finishes.) Well I am sure there will be another good song in a while dad. It sounds nice though doesn’t it? It’s very clear. Almost as if the person is singing in the room with you. (Another song comes and Ruth starts to join in.)

Kitson: I don’t know why I had to have a new one anyway, what was the matter with my old one? Brought it back from Germany I did, I loved that radio, the times I tried my hardest to tune the dial and all I would hear is static, crackling bloody static but then the air would seem to clear and the faint sound of something from home would dance across the channel and come down through the wires and for a while I could imagine I was back at home with you and your mum, praising her for the wonderful Sunday roast she had slaved over and my father, a pipe hanging from his lips as he started to nod off and your mum moaning at me for not wanting to do the dishes. (Kitson smiles ruefully at the thought)

The sound of electricity comes over the stage and the light goes off on the right hand side and a faint light comes on the left as the audience sees a young man fiddling with the radio, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he furiously tries to get a signal. The faint light goes down and we return to 1975 where Ruth has stopped singing and the audience has missed a section of the conversation.

Ruth: …and after you, well broke it dad you needed a new one. The nurse, what’s her name again…well the nurse anyway, strange old fish, she said you’ve been… disruptive again. You need the company dad; you don’t mix with anyone else. Anyway don’t be so ungrateful, I will be paying for this for ages, they’re not cheap you know and things are not good out there in the real world.

It is clear that Kitson hasn’t been listening to Ruth but he suddenly sits up and looks at her.

Kitson: When’s mother coming in? I want to see your mother, she never bloody comes here. I’m not dying you know; don’t know why I am here, bloody place. That nurse, she’s an evil cow, surprised she got a job as a nurse, no care in her you know, met her type before. (Raises his voice slightly) When is mother coming in?

Ruth’s face falls and she walks over to the bed and places her hands on her dad’s legs gently. She crinkles her nose and turns away as if she has smelt something bad.

Ruth: Oh dad, I know it’s hard, I know your mind forgets and you go somewhere we cannot go but please, I can’t keep repeating this, mum died…you know she died.

Kitson: (Starts to cry) When?

Ruth: Oh dad, not again. Look I have got to go to work. I only popped in this morning early to set the radio up for you; I should have done it on my way home tonight. (Ruth stands upright and goes to get her coat.)

Kitson starts to panic and starts to plead.

Kitson: Please don’t go yet Ruthy, stay please, I will be good, stay.

Ruth has got to the door and she looks sympathetically at her father.

Ruth: Dad, it’s not about you being good, I know you are good, I just need to get to work. If I don’t work then I can’t feed you can I now? Those bars of chocolates from the factory you like; the broken biscuits that I know you love to eat when you think the nurses aren’t looking. That would all go and where would you be then, no job for me as a teacher, I would have to move away dad. There’s not enough jobs going as it is. Now don’t be silly.

Ruth goes back to her father, kisses him on the forehead and wrinkles her nose again.

Ruth: Have you had an accident dad? Oh dear God, what are we going to with you? I shall have to tell the nurse, she will help you. Look I have to go. I love you.

Ruth walks away despite the small groans that come from Kitson. She reaches the door and smiles at him and the lights flicker. Both sides are in darkness but small groans can still be heard, the sound of footsteps can be heard and then the light comes on the front and there are no more cries or moans from Ruth’s father. Ruth walks along the front of the stage and meets the nurse going about her duties.

Nurse: Ah Miss Kitson. I heard you were in. I have been meaning to have words with you about this. I wish you wouldn’t come in this early; it disturbs the patients and upsets them.

Ruth: I only came in with my father’s new radio this morning. I wasn’t in long and Eric…Mr. Hale said it was O.K. He knows my dad is a little overwrought if he doesn’t get to hear music, it calms him down you know.

Nurse: I personally do not care what Mr. Hale thinks is O.K., he after all is only an orderly, no use to me at all apart from holding down those who need that extra persuasion to do as they are told. Now, I have a lot to do Miss Kitson, my job, already hard enough especially if you don’t mind me saying so with your father, is made that damned sight more intolerable with him being excited by a visit this early in the morning. You are not the one that has to deal with him during the day, especially if he will not behave or even go out to get some exercise. Now Miss Kitson, you decided not to look after your father, you said it was becoming too hard for you, so… I would prefer it if you can at least curtail your visits to after the allotted time or in the evenings like everyone else. Do I make myself understood?

The ticking of a clock can be heard and a few seconds go by.

Ruth: (Flustered) Erm…look, I only wanted to make sure my dad had something to listen to; there really is no need to make such a fuss. He is a good man, he is just confused. I know you must have read his file.

Nurse: I have read it yes and I must say that I am thankful that I have only a few months left here because I do not take kindly to those who use the war as an excuse to get away with behaving as badly as your father. My husband, may I tell you, saw just as much action as any man and he is a perfect gentleman, never once talks about what he saw and keeps all that ugly mess to himself. He doesn’t feel the need to wallow in the past…unlike others. Now if you will excuse me I have work to do. I presume your father is dressed if you have been in there with him?

Ruth: (Resigned) No, he is still in his pyjamas.

Nurse: Good God woman, where is your pride? Do you want your father well and functioning like a normal human being? I am not here to mollycoddle him, I don’t have the time and there are others in here who are just as…ill as your father that I need to see to and make sure they get their medicine. I do not have the time to get him dressed. The least you could do if you were there was to get him clean, clothed and presentable.

Ruth: I am sorry, I am late for work.

Nurse: We are all late. We are all busy. I now shall be later still and even busier than I should be. Roll on retirement. Even better, roll on your father stop being a burden and back where he belongs with his family. It is your responsibility after all. It is not for me to be his mother. Good day Miss Kitson and don’t forget please come at a sensible time from now on…or better still, get your father home where he belongs.

(The Nurse barges past Ruth Kitson leaving the younger woman flustered and lost for words. She regains some semblance of self-worth as she calls after the Nurse as if she has remembered something about the Nurse.)

Ruth: By the way Nurse…

Nurse: What is it now?

Ruth: I really wish I could have remained behind to help but I am sure your grandson also needs support with his History that he is struggling with so I had better make sure he gets it in lesson today…but I thought you ought to know, I think my dad has messed the bed and is covering it up in his usual fashion. I shall say hello to your grandson for you.

With that Ruth walks off stage leaving the Nurse fuming. The Nurse picks up a bed pan from a nearby trolley and smashes it down back in the same place. The light goes down on the stage but the sound of music can be heard and the sound of the wheeling of the trolley.

The light goes back on the right hand side of the stage as the Nurse appears in the doorway to Kitson’s room. He is fiddling with the radio reception and doesn’t notice her. The light flickers and goes out. The same time the light comes on the other side of the stage and the young soldier can be seen messing around with the radio, the same static for a moment before a signal is heard and music can be heard.

Stan: That’s better. I just want a moment that’s all I ask. (The music continues to play. Stan looks dishevelled as if he has been up for two days straight. He moves to sit on his bed and starts to sing quietly alongside the music.) I like this one, good old Gracie. Wish I could have seen her perform on stage like my dad did. I wonder what father is doing now. (He reaches over to pick up some paper and a pencil from the side of his bed.)  When was that now, 1932? 33? (sings again), Sallyyyyyy Salllllyyy, Marry Me Sally and happy forever I’ll be. (hums the next bit), ahh smashing that. She got ill once my dad said, before the war, cancer, not sure what that is really, sounds awful though. (Starts to write down on the paper.) Dad, I have just finished what seems like a week of the most heart breaking experience I could ever imagined I would be doing. Since I walked through those gates at the front of the camp, the smell, the death…the utter hopelessness I feel is overwhelming. I know I should write better news to you and perhaps I will rip up, tear to tiny pieces everything I am about to put down on paper to you and start again. Ask how you are feeling. Are you keeping O.K. and that your granddaughter is not playing you up.

(Stan puts down the paper and starts to conduct Gracie with his pencil. He stands up).  I should ask you what it’s like seeing some football with her, not the same though is it without Christopher and I with you I wager. A quick drink in The Holt before going through the turn style and then cheering on the Villa….Cheering on the Villa, It sounds pathetic doesn’t it. Oh not the team dad, just the thought of something so mundane, so utterly easy to think of, something to hang onto I guess. I watched more children being buried today. (The music starts to become static as the signal starts to wander.) How old would Christopher have been now? 25? Yes 25. Silly sod, do you remember when he fell into that silo pit when he was younger, (Notices the signal start to go, puts his pencil down on the bed and goes over to the radio) What was it you said as we managed to pull him out? Ah yes you dirty horrible sod. You dirty…

The light goes out on the left hand on the side of the stage and immediately comes on the right, the same some song is playing and Mr. Kitson is fiddling with the reception. The Nurse who is still in the same spot as when we left her has been biding her time. 

Nurse: (shouts) You are a dirty horrible bastard, your daughter said you may have had an accident but that smell Mr. Kitson, that smell is disgusting. I know what you have done.

Kitson shakes slightly as he is bought out of his dream like state.

I bet you have not slept on your bed for a couple of days, you are too cunning Mr. Kitson. I don’t believe you ever sleep on your bed at all but what you do in that bed is disgusting. I can smell it. There are toilets in here you know, ring the bloody bell and someone will take you, you only have to ask for permission and someone will take you, but to…foul your bed, to use it as a toilet is beyond the pale Mr. Kitson. (The nurse walks past him and with no hesitation lifts up the sheets and sees excrement smeared on there, she lifts one of the sheets off and takes it to Kitson and shoves part of it under his nose) Turn off that radio and listen to me. (Kitson stares at her and does so reluctantly) You don’t deserve the kindness that we show you. People talk of compassion…your daughter talks of compassion and of understanding what you went through during the war. (She shoves the sheet closer to his nose making him retch)  Not nice is it.

Kitson: No Nurse. (recoils)

Nurse: Well then, what do you do? I should make you clean this, it’s not like I have time.

Kitson: I ring the bell if I want to use the toilet at night.

Nurse: (slightly taken aback by his compliance) Well then, perhaps next time you will. (She turns away to put the sheet back on the bed.) I will get the orderly along in a while to do this…to clean this mess up and tonight I will make sure you sleep in your own bed, perhaps that way you might not mess the bed again. (As she bends down Kitson sticks to fingers up at her behind her back and makes a raspberry sound in an act of rebellion.)

Nurse: (Stands bolt upright and turns slowly towards Kitson, her face thunderous). What was that?

Kitson had already moved his two fingers down infront of his nose and was wafting them, still in the two fingered salute, in front of his nose.

Kitson: I am sorry Nurse, I farted. I am sorry.

Nurse: I should bloody well think so. (softening). Go to the bathroom Mr. Kitson, go and wash and then come back and get changed.

Kitson looks at her bewildered.

Nurse: Now soldier: Bathroom…Now.

Kitson stands to attention and salutes her and turns and walks of stage.

Nurse: Silly old man, a filthy silly old man. Who exactly does he think he is? (She looks at the sheets and resigns herself to stripping the bed. She walks over to the trolley and takes it to the bed and begins stripping it, the smell makes her gag but she puts all the sheets into the trolley collection and then does the same with the blankets. She removes the pillows from the bed and chucks them into the basket as well.)

Nurse: Not fit to be even burned in the furnace, (She tuts) I would have though. I would make the bugger sleep on a bare mattress if it got him out of here. I would burn every single last sheet, every piece of putrefying lingering memory of him. Makes me shudder to think what he gets up to. (The Nurse finishes stripping the bed and looks down at the mattress). Well thank heavens for small mercies Mr. Kitson, you haven’t soiled the mattress this time. (She looks down where the pillows were and sees a small black covered book, overflowing with pages sticking out and held together with an elastic band.)

My husband would have licked you back into shape by now Mr. Kitson, oh yes, he would have told you to stop languishing in your own pit, get out of your thoughts, pull your socks up and get on with life. He never complains about what he saw, he just gets on with it and keeps the feelings to himself. Shame on you Mr. Kitson.

The Nurse looks towards the door and sees that Kitson is nowhere to be seen, she carefully takes the elastic band off the book and starts to read, flicking through the odd pages.

Nurse: You are a very odd person Mr. Kitson, perhaps incredibly so. I don’t understand a single word of this. (She slams the book shut and she shuts her eyes.) Why do I bother Mr. Kitson? A few more months and I can retire. I can be finally be rid of the likes of you. (She hears a noise, the sound of shuffling feet and quickly puts the book back where she found it, forgetting to put the elastic band back around it. She walks quickly over to a cupboard and gets a new pillow out and in her rush she trips and bangs into the bed, the book that was on the bed falls and the pages fall out onto the floor. Despite her obvious pain she scrabbles on the floor and desperately tries to pick up all the loose pages. As Kitson gets to the door she has managed to get the book back together with the elastic band around it and with the pillows covering it. She hasn’t seen the two envelopes that fell on the other side of the bed and that lay on the floor. Kitson is now wearing a dressing gown over his pyjamas.)

Nurse: (Flustered but trying to keep her demeanour calm.) Better Mr. Kitson? Good, a semblance of humanity perhaps. Now if you can get dressed we could see about getting you out for the day. Why are you wearing that? Where did that come from? (Nurse pulls her self together and goes over to Mr. Kitson and roughly looks in the back of the collar.)

Oh for God’s sake Mr. Kitson, Mr. Morris will be looking for this. You had no right to take it. (The Nurse starts to try and remove the dressing gown to be met with some resistance by Kitson.)

Kitson: It’s mine!

Nurse: No it isn’t Mr Kitson, it belongs to Mr Morris. It isn’t yours to walk around in as if you are the owner, it belongs to someone else. Mr. Morris will want it back. (The last part of this sentence is almost grunted as she tries by force to take off the dressing gown but Kitson holds fast and manages to move away from her. He looks down at the bed and recognises that something is amiss but is unaware what.)

Kitson: (Slowly) Do you want to dance with me?

Nurse: (Catching her breath) What?

Kitson: (Still staring at the bed) Will you dance…

The light flickers and goes out on the right hand side of the stage and goes up on the left hand side. The radio is playing some swing music and Stan and a young lady are dancing.

Stan: Thank you for dancing with me, it’s a long way to get back home for a night, get my suit on go down the Roxy with the wife…she would take most of the war to get ready. (Stan smiles as if it was the first time in weeks)

Elke: I don’t quite know what you mean but the music is very good.

Stan: You shouldn’t be in here really, if someone comes in, sweet Jesus, if the Rabbi should come in he would have me shot or worse, bed pan duty for a month.

Elke: You want to stop dancing yes?

Stan: No, I don’t want to stop. The music and this reminds me of home. It is the only things I hang on to day after day. The thought of getting home when all this is over, to get away from here and all this de…

Elke: (looks at him with pity) death?

Stan stops dancing ashamed of his thought in front of Elke.

Stan: I am so sorry, It’s just that yes. All this death. (He sits down on the bed and Elke watches him but carries on dancing.)

Stan: How old are you Elke?

Elke: Pardon Stan?

Stan: What is your age?

Elke smiles.

Elke: I am too young for you Stan, for that I can introduce you to my mother, if I ever see her again of course.

(Stan looks horrified as he realises what she implies. He starts to backtrack on what he has said.)

Stan: No…No. I mean. You must have only been here a short time before we liberated the camp, you responded to treatment so quickly whilst other di…passed on around us.

(Elke stops dancing and goes over to the bed and sits next to Stan. She looks down at her feet whilst talking to him.)

Elke: I was one of the last to be sent here by them. We, my sister and I, you met her yes? We had evaded capture for so long until, well we were erm…betrayed yes? (She laughs bitterly and sits next to Stan) I remember the first time I saw you in Barrack 211, you looked so handsome. You reminded me of my uncle Max, you and that other man… Williams? You were both so brave, so handsome…so scared.

Stan: I saw your sister again today and (shakes head) I wish there was more I could do. I looked at her, I saw her eyes looking at me with a pleading I hadn’t seen since my brother begged my father to join up and serve in the Merchant Navy… I don’t feel brave Elke, I want to go home. I hate what I have seen here and I feel so powerless, so emotionally spent already that I don’t know how you are able to do what you do in helping Sister Luba.

Elke: I do what I do Stan because I have a second chance. I dance like there is no tomorrow because for a long while I thought there was no tomorrow, I thought every day would be my last and at that time I couldn’t dance because I was afraid. I am afraid now only not to live. Uncle Max had a saying once, The Nazis had become who they were because they stopped listening to God telling them that they should enjoy a good dance.

Stan: Where is your uncle now?

Elke: The last I heard he had been taken to somewhere called Treblinka. I know I won’t see him again. Now are you dancing whilst you have a signal from that clapped out radio of yours?

Elke gets back up as the music changes mood, the music is now slow.

Elke: I want to dance Stan. I want to take what I remember from before the war and feel the beat of a different drum, a musical one and not the sound of machines, of screaming, or worse the desolate sound of those giving up and accepting their fate. I will not accept that again. I want to dance and live.

Stan follows her to the centre of the room and takes both her hands.

Stan: How old are you Elke?

Elke: Old enough to dance Stan.

The light starts to crackle and goes down on the left hand side of the stage and goes back up on the right hand side. All the thoughts have taken but a moment as Stan is still looking down at the bed and the nurse is still catching her breath from the tussle.

Kitson: How old are you?

Nurse: Mr. Kitson that is none of your business. God I need a cigarette.  (She looks in her pocket and takes cigarette out of a packet, she sighs as she realises it is the last one and lights it. She is exasperated by the whole morning’s goings on.)

(Kitson turns to look at her, he doesn’t see the Nurse, his mind is locked in the moment in Germany.)

Kitson: It’s not a rude question Elke, I just wondered how you managed to survive. You were so lucky.

Nurse: Mr Kitson sit down and shut up, I have just had about enough already this morning and its only (Checks watch) 8.30, half past eight and he is talking to me as if he knows me. Saints preserve me. (She takes a drag of her cigarette and turns away as if go back out the door.)

(Kitson paces after her and catches her at the edge of the door and spins her around. He starts to talk excitedly, in the voice of a younger man.)

Kitson: Dance with me Elke, don’t go, not yet. I just need to be around another human being, someone who can understand all of this, the mess hut, the mud, the chains, the burning, the lice, the constant gnawing at my gut. All the others, all those that I see day after blasted day dying and I cannot do anything to save them. You are the nearest thing I have to a friend, the only person here aside from that Rabbi I can really talk to. Dance with me please Elke, listen to that music, clear as bell, I love this one.

(The nurse looks over at the radio and sees that the radio is still off. She pushes him off and grabs him by the arms tightly and marches him over to the bed.)

Nurse: Sit down Mr Kitson, behave please or I will have to ring for one of the orderlies. (Raises her voice) Sit down.

(Kitson struggles slightly and in the process knocks the cigarette from out of her mouth, it lands harmlessly on the floor, immediately Kitson sees it and stamps on it and then grabs his glass of water and pours it over the remains, a look of horror on his face.)

Nurse: What the hell did you do that for? (She bends down and sees that he has completely destroyed it.) You are unbelievable Kitson. (She stands up and looks as if she is going to hit the old man. The sound of footsteps and a small tuneless whistle sound off stage and the Nurse pricks up ears.) Stay there Kitson, I will be back in a minute. Mr Haleeee, wait there please.

(The Nurse runs off after the sound of the whistle which is growing faint. Kitson is left alone and for a moment doesn’t do anything. He looks around at the room as if he realises where he is and sighs. He remembers looking down at the bed before and looks down at the pillows, slight panic in his eyes as he sees that the pillows are different and he places his hand carefully under them to check if something is there. He pulls out the book and undoes the band and looks through them.)

Kitson: I only wanted to dance with you. (He starts to cry as he reads the book) Where is the page? Where is your letter? Elke, where is your letter Dad? (He starts to panic and looks underneath the pillow and sees nothing, he looks around the room and finally underneath the bed where they had fallen and gets down on his knees to pick them up with all the agility of man who had exerted himself trying to dance for the first time in years. He hears the sound of the Nurse coming back and puts the letters back into the book and thrusts the book into the pocket of the dressing gown. The Nurse comes back in through the doorway and takes a drag on her newly acquired cigarette.)

Nurse: Right Kitson, you are so lucky. Why you still sat there for, get dressed Mr. Kitson. You are not languishing on that empty bed all day.

(The Nurse walks over to the wardrobe, opens it up and sees the mess inside, photographs fall on the floor as she roots through the clothes. Kitson pays no attention and walks over to the mirror in the middle of the stage and looks at himself, he sees nothing for a moment and starts to sing Marry Me Sally to himself. The Nurse looks round at him and picks up the photographs, instead of putting them away she makes sure Kitson cannot see her and she then pockets the photographs.)

(The light fades down on the right hand side
of the stage and fades up on the left, Stan walks into his barrack room holding a letter. He walks over to the radio and fiddles around for a second but all he gets is static. His face is grim. He walks over to the bed and sits down on the end of it. As he sits down he sees there is another letter lying on the floor, it has been pushed underneath the door. With a groan he gets back up and goes over to the door and picks up the letter before returning to the bed. He looks at both letters, one in a white envelope and the other as if written in great haste.)

Stan: Well bugger me I am popular today, two letters. Wonder what my dad wants.

(He ignores the letter which was hastily written and puts it down on the bed and tears open the one from his father. He walks slowly towards the mirror whilst reading the letter out loud.)

Stan: My dearest son, I got your last letter and I am sorry for the delay in writing back to you. As you might see I am writing from your Aunt Selina’s in Bicester. Son…Stan, I have news for you which is hard for me to impart especially as you are so far away from home and doing a job that I cannot imagine for one minute is easy or will have the opportunity for much thanks when the time comes. I am finding it hard to understand what has happened but first son, the lass is O.K. and as I talk to you she is asleep in your aunt’s arms. I wish you were here to hold her, to talk to her. Son, Sarah…your Sarah has passed on. It seems there was an accident at the factory, the assembly line on which she worked on suddenly grinded to a halt and rather than wait for the foreman, Mr. Sedgely to come along and isolate the trouble, she ducked underneath the rail and well…I’m so sorry son. She didn’t stand a chance as the machinery suddenly started up again. I tried to tell the police to get in touch with you but life here is still the organised chaos that it was when you left home. If you can come home…(Stan stops reading and holds on to the invisible wall that surrounds the mirror.)

(The light flickers between the two stages and for a moment the two men separated by time are touching hands and leaning against each other, both are looking down to the floor. The light dies down on the left hand side of the stage completely leaving Kitson slowly lifting his head to look in the mirror.)

Kitson: I don’t want to dress. I want to listen to music. (Kitson starts to walk over to the radio and reaches it before the Nurse understands what is happening. Stan turns on the radio and Marry Me Sally comes on loudly.)

Nurse: Turn that radio off Mr. Kitson now. I want you dressed and I want you out of this festering hole. You need air, fresh air.

Kitson: No, Ruggs, I want to go home, I want to see my wife.

Nurse: Ruggs? You loony, what the hell are you talking about? Your wife is dead Mr. Kitson but I also wish you were home, I wish I could drop you there right now and get your sort, you people who think just because you saw one horrible thing that it gives you the God-damn right to sit and stew on it, always thinking of the past. There is a world out there that is tough and what do you do? You either sit and forget to even behave like a decent human being or worse when you go out you come back with a bag full of rubbish, yes Mr. Kitson, rubbish, tattered and strewn rubbish, chocolate bar wrappers, plastic bags, mulch, leaves, sticks, loo roll…who goes into someone’s back yard Mr. Kitson and takes their toilet roll? You bring it back here and then we have to deal with it. It is not on Mr. Kitson. Are you listening to me?

(Kitson nods, a slight grin on his face and turns up the radio.)

Kitson: What the hell Ruggs, it is private, and it is my radio, I will listen to whatever I want. Hear me, whatever I want…

(Kitson suddenly stops and the light fades on the right hand side of the stage and goes up on the left. There is a soldier laid out on Stan’s bed, he is reading the letter that had been left untouched by Stan earlier. The sound of someone coming through the door makes up look up and seeing it is Stan he goes back to the letter.)

Stan: Bloody Hell, I need to get back home and see my dad and Ruthy but nobody can leave the base for a few days at least, too many people need me here my backside. (Stan closes the door behind him and doesn’t see the other soldier on his bed, he goes straight to the radio and fiddles with it.)

Stan: It isn’t fair. (Mimics different tone) It happened weeks ago, I am afraid what we are doing here is more important Kitson. I am sure you understand, try to understand soldier that I have made phone calls and your daughter and father are safe and well. Your wife, whilst obviously I am sorry for your loss, has died and is already buried, if I send you home now, others could die as well, others are dying…daily, so many young children, so many people Kitson. Think on soldier, as soon as we can I will get you back home… what a load of horse sh…(Kitson turns away from the radio after getting a signal and sees the other soldier on his bed.) What the hell are you doing on my bed Ruggs?

Ruggs: (not looking up from reading the letter) Taking a rest, you’re always in here Kitson listening to that infernal radio. I am surprised you have time.

Kitson: (walking over to the sink) It’s my radio and I will listen to what I want when I want. It doesn’t affect my duties Ruggs  so why don’t you get lost and get back to your own hut or preferably go and help those Nazi’s dig the graves, I am sure I can find a space for you in it once you have finished.

Ruggs: Touchy touchy Kitson. (Puts down the letter by his side and puts his arms behind his neck) I was only making conversation. (Becomes apparently sympathetic) I heard your good lady has passed on, I am sorry to hear that.

(This sudden change of tact catches Stan unawares and he steadies himself.)

Ruggs: After all, she stayed home, bought up your kid on her own, dealt with your father, yes a real war hero, a woman on the home front doing her bit and making sure that there was a home for you to go back to and all that time she had no idea you were carrying on with that Dutch girl.

(Kitson turns round violently to see Ruggs wave the letter at him.)

Kitson: What the hell are you talking about? What carry on? What is that letter?

Ruggs: (Sitting up) You are a naughty boy Kitson, knocking round with that Jewish girl. How old is she eh? 15? 14?

(Kitson lunges at Ruggs and tries to get the letter back from him but misses.)

Kitson: She is 18, I found that out yesterday and all I have done is dance with her, dance you idiot. Not that it is any of your business but she managed to convince those bastards out there she was younger so she could stay with her sister. Now give me that. (Lunges again but Ruggs is too quick for him.)

Ruggs: Convenient, wonder what your old lady would have made of that, dancing in here, listening to music and in the arms of another young woman. Was she good, you know…in that. (Points to the bed.)

Kitson: What? (Defensive)

Ruggs: You know between the sheets, bit of the other, come on we are both men of the world.

Kitson: I danced, that’s all. Give me that letter.

Ruggs: This one? (Holding out the envelope, letter and small black book.)

Kitson: Give it me.

Ruggs: Give us a kiss Casanova and I will give it you.

Kitson: Fuck off. I want whatever I presume Elke gave you.

Ruggs: I can do better than that. A riveting read. Dear Stan, my friend…

Kitson: Shut up, whatever was said is private.

Ruggs; Not anymore sunshine, by the time roll call comes up, everybody will know Casanova. (He continues) I thank you for the hours we spent together and the way you looked after my sister but I am afraid to tell she passed on yesterday afternoon and I heard that you had some bad news so I didn’t want to get in the way…

Kitson: You sanctimonious git Ruggs.

Ruggs: (Goes to hand him the letter and Stan snatches it from him. As if losing the will to goad Stan any further starts to walk away.) Anyway, academic really. She left this morning sunshine. She was well enough to leave, don’t think she could stomach the thought of one more death, or perhaps you were just an awful dancer eh?

(Kitson sees red and rushes at Ruggs, a scuffle ensues and then before a fight can really break out, Ruggs hits Kitson in the face and starts to laugh as Stan goes down clutching his face. A noise from outside catches the attention of Ruggs and he smartens himself up and goes to the door looking down at Stan once more.) Pathetic idiot, no better than the insects that infest this God-forsaken hovel. (He pauses before going back to the radio and makes as if to smash it in front of Stan but grins and puts it down again.) You’re not worth it Kitson, you will never be worth it.

(The light goes down briefly before coming back up on the same side of the stage. Stan is sitting on the bed writing a letter.)

Stan: …I remember this one day, it was a couple of weeks ago, I had heard the minister, Rabbi Hardman giving a sermon. He had stood there perfectly still and read this lovely sounding piece, I think it was called the Kaddish, I think it was that, I never really got to ask him you see and a friend I had made wasn’t really in the mood to answer my questions, wasn’t my place to ask those sort of subjects I guess and having watched him standing over that mass grave I don’t think it would have been right to involve myself any further with the man’s grief. He had been nice to me but at that point I don’t think anyone of us that saw him do what he had to do, to talk to the dead and pray, well none of us could have gone over and talked to him.

I was just exhausted in middle of April. Back home…back home all sorts would be going on, people would be celebrating the coming of the real end of war, it was so close and I would have loved to have been there with my wife…my lovely wife and my child, my dear old dad in the corner of the room talking excitedly of the world to come and all I could think of was what I had seen since I walked through those gates that led into Belsen. The stink, the god awful stink that hit your nose and violates the stomach making you want to heave all over your boots. I walked back to the hut, to this hut, trying to keep my stomach from completely going, to stop it going round and round. I saw people doing their work, getting to the sick, the death rate was still high, typhus was killing people almost as quick as we were saving them. We had started to make some difference but it wasn’t quick enough and as I reached the door of the hut I had two thoughts running around in different directions in my tiny brain. I needed water, just a glass of water, anything to stop feeling sick. The other thought was I wondered if we were killing those poor souls out there just as quickly and just as surely as the bastards who had sent them there in the first place.

I got inside the hut, I heard my name being shouted by someone but I ignored it, I wanted water. I had left my canteen full that morning and I was desperate. I picked up, felt the trickle of water slosh around my mouth and then something funny tasting wriggled on my tongue for a second before the water carried it away, then another. I didn’t swallow, Jesus, so glad I didn’t swallow but I spat the water out onto the bare wood and looked first down to where the water had landed with the accuracy of thrown grenade. There on top of the water, nearly invisible to the eye, ran a couple of lice. I instinctively reacted in revulsion and trod down on them squashing them into history.

For a second I kept calm, then felt another tickle on my tongue and I knew that there was always going to be just one more hiding in plain sight, ready to pass on a disease, to use me as their host, to infect me with their disgusting sicknesses. Bloody bugs, I hate them. Well I looked at my canteen and in my mind I see them everywhere, crawling all over each other, fucking each other, producing more and more bloody lice till there would be no room in the hut for them and me to co-exist. I threw the canteen onto the floor and imagined all the lice scurrying for cover. This way, that way, they would find cracks to hide in, to come out when I was asleep to crawl all over me, to infect me…and then I remembered the one still sitting on my tongue and I was sick, all over my boots. I saw it and I bent down and took a pencil and a piece of paper out of my uniform top pocket and picked it up with the end of my pencil, tapped it onto the clean white paper and sat down on my bed looking at it. I stared at it for ages. I concentrated on it harder than I probably had ever given thought to anything else in my life before. I went to crush it, to take the very life out it once and for all, how dare it have the guts to be in me, to use me as a vessel to spread its disease. Bloody vermin!

(Stan puts the letter down and looks at the black book that Elke left him, he fingers it carefully, opening it slightly and his manner changes to that the audience sees at the very start of the play.)

Then the door opened and I saw the Rabbi looking at me, a mixture of pity, warmth and confusion on his face. He saw I had been sick and asked if I was alright, did I still feel ill. I started to explain what had happened, all the lice that I had killed that had been sitting on my water, sharing my water with these vermin. He sat down beside me on my bed and looked onto the white paper and said but my son, there is nothing there, it is just you holding a piece of paper and stabbing it with your pencil. I looked down and where I thought there was a louse was really nothing, nothing at all. The Rabbi cleared it for me to have rest for a couple of days, I had, like others worked myself into the ground in trying to save this population, this make shift hospital of Belsen that my brain had not let me recover so the Rabbi said. I needed to rest for a while. There was nothing there, no threat, they would never be a threat to me or anyone whilst we did our jobs properly and cared for the sick and the dying. There was nothing there, there was…

(Light switches from left to right hand parts of the stage and Kitson is stood to attention and shouts,)

Kitson: Nothing fucking there.

Nurse: Mr. Kitson, I have been more than patient with you but at this point I have had enough of you. I am going to make a full report.

Kitson: (Coming back to the present day) What?

(In the time that the action has been concentrating on Stan, the Nurse has managed to turn off the radio and has got Kitson into some semblance of clothing. He is wearing trousers, shirt and socks. The dressing gown is on the bed. The Nurse is fixing Mr.Kitson’s tie.)

Nurse: You are a waste of space Mr. Kitson. My husband is the same age as you and is a pillar in the community. Who do you think you are Mr. Kitson? Too tight? (Sighs as Kitson nods and shows a rare piece of compassion and loosens the tie There you go, better? Good! Now you take my husband Mr. Kitson, he wouldn’t abide all this carry-on. He just gets on with his day, he has forgotten all of that horrible business and digs in the garden all day, we have a marvellous garden Mr. Kitson. He is forever digging and making the lawn prim, cutting it carefully, regulation length at all times, nothing is ever out of sorts, everything is always in its place, no room for anything that might be a weed, might be considered ugly, frightful, weird or disgusting Mr. Kitson. Our little lot in life is fully structured at all times and you Mr. Kitson are like that weed we find in the middle of the manicured lawn. There is no room for you in our lawn Mr. Kitson.

(The Nurse moves away from Mr. Kitson and goes to pick up the dressing gown.) Once I have got this back to its proper owner Mr. Kitson and got you out of here for the day, I am going to make a formal complaint about you. If your daughter cannot be made to see sense then I shall be recommending that you are made to go into a home more capable of dealing with you, giving you the treatment you need Kitson.

(She lifts up the dressing gown and for the first time realises that it is heavy, fiddling with the pockets she pulls out the black book and gets angry. Kitson has followed her movements and sees her take the book out of the pocket.)

Nurse: What is this Mr. Kitson. Why are you hiding things from us. Don’t try to lie, I saw it under your pillow earlier. Why the subterfuge?

Kitson: Give it back Nurse…please.

Nurse: What this (she holds it out), you know what Kitson, it may be your personal property but you are cunning Kitson, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were keeping notes on me. Is that what it is Kitson? Are you spying on my moves, writing down what you imagine goes on here or even what you think goes on in your excuse for your brain? I’m keeping this. (She remembers the photographs she has picked up earlier) These photographs Kitson, what are they? Old sweethearts? (She holds it up in front of Kitson but just out of reach. She looks at the back of it.) Elka, Elke?

(Kitson starts to get agitated and the lights on both sides of the stage flicker randomly. Stan appears to be looking in the mirror)

Nurse: Oh look here is another one, Sarah 1944 on the Lickey Hills. Touching I am sure. You are a dirty old man aren’t you? Seeing two women? How does a filthy man like you do that. If both these women could see you now eh. Elke? You called me Elke earlier, so this is her then (Waves first photograph in his face.)

Kitson: Give me the bloody book, it is mine you cow.

Nurse: Say please, Casanova.

Kitson: Give me my book back.

(The light flickers quickly between the sides of the stage and Stan can be seen mouthing the words as Kitson speaks them.)

Nurse: I don’t think so, I am taking these straight to the office. I won’t have you making notes on me Kitson. I will see you gone for this. (She smiles with distaste and turns to go. Kitson finally explodes and grabs her by the arm and tries to take the book from her, there is a struggle in which the Nurse hits out at Kitson but Kitson ducks and pushes her over, sending her sprawling against a wall and hitting her head. Kitson walks over to her and takes the book and photographs from her hand as she meekly protests and starts to weakly shout for help from an orderly, Kitson walks back to his bed via the radio, turns it on  and sits down and gently kisses the book and puts them again under his pillow. Stan is in the original position on his bed reading the book.)

Nurse: Help, help me, orderly, I need help, help please.

(The light fades on both sides of the stage.)

End.

Ian D. Hall 2013