The Evacuee
By Eddy Taylor, Florence Hiscox, George Townsend and James Webb
ACT 1
SCENE 1
ALBERT and THOMAS are walking through the forest outside the Baker-Barbier Estate. ALBERT is holding a gun.
ALBERT: Watch. Make sure you crouch, rest the rifle under your chin and steady yourself.
THOMAS: Yes, sir.
ALBERT: You’ve got to be quick to catch these buggers.
They wait in silence.
ALBERT: (Whispering.) Can you hear that Thomas? Now look.
THOMAS puts his hands over his ears as ALBERT readies his shot.
ALBERT: Closer... Yes. Yes.
The gun explodes. The sound of a deer shrieking and another deer scuttering. ALBERT turns back to THOMAS, who quickly lowers his hands.
ALBERT: See what I did there, boy?
THOMAS: Yes, father.
ALBERT and THOMAS walk in silence. ALBERT stops walking. THOMAS looks back, before stopping too.
ALBERT: Crouch, boy. Crouch. Here’s the spot. Look.
THOMAS: Where?
ALBERT: Shush. Quiet. Look.
THOMAS nods.
ALBERT: Warning, the gun is heavy.
THOMAS: You can say that again.
ALBERT chuckles. THOMAS smiles meekly.
THOMAS: Like this?
ALBERT: Crouch more and hold it steady. And… fire.
Gun explodes. The bullet grazes the deer’s leg. It scutters away, hobbling.
Pause.
ALBERT: Not bad for a first try, son. How did that feel?
THOMAS: Heavy. But not as difficult as-
ALBERT: Good. We’ll make a soldie- hunter out of you yet.
THOMAS: Yes, sir.
They find a spot. ALBERT and THOMAS stop walking. Both of them crouch.
THOMAS: Father, look! Two deer.
ALBERT puts his finger to his lips.
ALBERT: (Whispering.) Now wait.
The gun slips out of THOMAS’s hands with a loud thud. The sound of one deer scurrying off. The other stays.
THOMAS: (Whispering.) I can do this.
THOMAS picks up the gun. He glances at ALBERT. He sees his disappointment. THOMAS shoots with abandon. The bullet flies into a tree. The deer scurries.
Pause.
ALBERT: Not to worry, boy. We still have dinner, thanks to me. You should return to the house.
THOMAS does not move.
ALBERT: Cook should be preparing dinner by now. You could even help her.
THOMAS: I-
ALBERT: Run along without me. I want to check the traps.
THOMAS: Y-yes, sir. (Coughs.) Thank you, father.
ALBERT shakes his head at THOMAS, gestures for him to leave.
THOMAS exits.
ALBERT walks over to the dead deer and hauls it over his back. He exits.
SCENE 2
A spacious living room. A crowd of women are sitting around and listening to BETH. She’s holding a whiskey and cigarette in one hand, gesturing with the other. A crowd of men are gathered around a long table with a slab of meat in the centre. ALBERT is sitting at the head, THOMAS is next to him – quiet, embarrassed.
A family portrait hangs in the centre of the back wall – ALBERT, BETH, and their two sons.
The phone rings. No one acknowledges it.
ALBERT: Right between the eyes! Clean, quick. (Slaps THOMAS’ shoulder, a bit too aggressively.) You’re a natural, eh?
THOMAS gives a half smile, doesn’t meet his dad’s eye.
ALBERT: So we lugged it back to the car, threw it in the boot, drove it back. Thomas helped to skin the thing and – well, then. (He picks up the long knife on the table.) He who kills it, carves it.
The men raise their glasses. He hands the knife to THOMAS, who struggles to take it from ALBERT’S firm grip. He lines it up, saws a slither of venison from the lump.
ALBERT: You can have that first one, then. Gertie? Take over please. (ALBERT touches the maid’s arm. She takes the knife off THOMAS.) Dinner is served, everyone – courtesy of my boy!
Some people start to drift towards the table. ALBERT moves towards BETH on the other side of the stage, THOMAS follows. The phone rings again, ignored.
BETH: Tomorrow at seven – they told us over the telephone. Albert will pick him up from the station. I bet he’s never seen a real car before! And we’re putting him in with Thomas. (She catches THOMAS in her peripheral.) Oh, honey! Come here, darling. (Grabs him and pulls him into the centre of the group.) Tell everyone how excited you are to meet Peter.
THOMAS: I’m excited to meet him (Pause.) – to show him my planes.
A chorus of ‘awww’. THOMAS grimaces.
BETH: Isn’t that so sweet? He’s laid out all his models in his room. All along the windowsill and the shelves. (To THOMAS.) Go get me a plate please, darling. (He goes. She turns back to the crowd.) And we had an extra bed put in there for him too – we want him to be as comfortable as possible. He must be so scared, the poor thing. I heard their government is full of sympathisers. Must be dreadful for the children. Anyway, I’ve talked enough. Patricia tell us about yours, you’ve had him for – what – a week now, yes?
THOMAS begins to prepare his mother a plate. JACOB – one of ALBERT’S friends – begins talking to THOMAS.
JACOB: So, sharing a room, eh? How’d you end up with that deal?
THOMAS: They won’t use Harry’s room for anything.
JACOB: No, well, naturally.
THOMAS: And they think I need company. Which I don’t.
JACOB: Might be nice, though? Think of it like having another brother for a bit.
THOMAS is silent, finishes fixing the plate.
JACOB: Are you visiting us at the factory anytime soon?
THOMAS: Father hasn’t mentioned it for a while. That was more Harry’s thing.
JACOB: Well, I’m sure we could use the help, you know. You’ve heard about the new contract? Well, we’re right in the middle – everyone in full swing. Meanwhile, your father has only gone and started negotiating for more. We weren’t sure we could even deliver on this lot!
THOMAS: He knows what he’s doing.
JACOB nods, THOMAS walks away towards his mother.
BETH has taken the conversation back. The phone rings again.
BETH: (In a hushed voice, while THOMAS is walking over.) We think it’ll be good for him. He’s been so quiet since starting school again, he hangs around with that Archibald boy, his grades are middling. We hoped this would bring him out of – (She notices THOMAS.) Oh thank you, honey, that looks delicious.
THOMAS goes to hand the plate over to his mother, but trips on the rug. Some food slides off the plate.
ALBERT: Oh, for Christ’s sake, Thomas! (He checks his clothes for any stains.) Stupid boy. Get Gertie to show you where the dustpan is, you’ll clean this up.
THOMAS: I–
ALBERT: Go.
GERTIE leads THOMAS hurriedly offstage. The phone stops ringing.
BETH also checks her clothes for stains.
BETH: (To the crowd.) Case in point, hm?
ALBERT: Some time with a working-class lad will teach him a thing or two.
THOMAS comes back in with a dustpan and wet cloth. GERTIE follows behind him. THOMAS begins to scrub the carpet.
GERTIE: Miss, there’s someone on the phone for you.
BETH: I’m sure it can wait.
GERTIE: Something about a train.
BETH looks at ALBERT, confused. She follows GERTIE into the kitchen.
ALBERT: No, no, look you’re just rubbing it in deeper. (He takes the cloth from THOMAS, begins to scrub the carpet.) I’m sure we’ve shown you this before.
THOMAS: How long will the boy be here, father?
ALBERT: What – are you – what? (ALBERT hisses.) This is not the time to talk about this, Thomas.
THOMAS: But he’s staying in my room.
ALBERT: Yes. I don’t want to hear a single complaint. You’ll be a gracious host for as long as he’s here.
BETH re-enters.
BETH: Albert, (She beckons. Hushed.) he’s here now.
ALBERT: What? A day early? That’s ridiculous, let me speak to them.
BETH: No. You need to pick the boy up.
ALBERT: Now?
BETH: Yes, now, Bertie.
ALBERT: Fine. Okay. You clear the house and tidy with Gertie.
ALBERT grabs his coat and keys.
BERT: Oh, and take Thomas with you.
THOMAS goes over to get his coat.
ALBERT: He’d only slow me down.
ALBERT leaves. BETH sighs and turns to face the crowded room.
BETH: So, we just got a call –
Blackout.
SCENE 3
THOMAS’ bedroom. There are two beds, one on each side of the room. There are model planes lining the windowsills, sitting on top of cabinets, hanging from the ceiling.
The left side of the room has been tidied. THOMAS is half-heartedly tidying the right side. He hears something, stops abruptly
BETH: (From offstage.) And this is upstairs! That bedroom there is ours, if you ever need anything you come and find us, okay? Oh, but knock first.
They move down the corridor.
BETH: That’s your bathroom at the end of the corridor. We have an en suite, so that’s just for you and Thomas to share. We’ve bought you everything you need – toothbrush, toothpaste, / soap, shampoo.
PETER: / I have my own toothbrush, mam.
BETH: Oh! Well, of course. I just thought you might like a nice, new one. No?
PETER: Thank you, mam.
BETH: Please, call me Beth.
PETER: Okay. Thank you, Beth. (Pause.) What’s in that room?
ALBERT: That’s our first boy’s room – Harry. He’s not here anymore. And you’re never to go in his room, okay? You understand?
PETER: Yes, sir. Sorry.
ALBERT: Not to worry, boy. Just Beth gets a bit upset is all, don’t you love?
BETH: Let’s show you your room, come on.
THOMAS bolts into bed, pulls the covers over, pretends to sleep.
BETH: We might have to be a bit quiet – Tom could be asleep.
They creep into the room.
BETH: (Whispering.) This is your bed, we bought you pyjamas too. You must be exhausted after today, sweetie. Did you eat on the train?
PETER: Yes, thank you.
BETH: Great.
ALBERT: You’ll have school tomorrow. We’ve told your teachers you’re a day early. Gertie will unpack your things while you’re there tomorrow. Go on, get to sleep now.
BETH: You can change under the covers if you want.
PETER: (Taking in the room.) Okay. Thank you, mam. Or – Beth.
BETH: You’re most welcome. (She hugs him. He receives it awkwardly.) We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay? Goodnight.
PETER: Goodnight. Goodnight, Mr Baker-Barbier.
They exit. PETER looks around for a few seconds. He walks up to a model plane, pokes it.
THOMAS: (Still in bed.) That’s fragile.
PETER jumps back, surprised.
PETER: Sorry, I was just looking.
THOMAS: You were touching.
PETER: Yes. Uh– sorry.
THOMAS: That’s a rare model. It’s an Avro Lancaster. They drop bombs.
PETER: On who?
THOMAS: On Jerries, obviously.
PETER: (Pause.) I saw a bunch fly over me once.
THOMAS: What? Liar.
PETER: Going to France.
THOMAS: Liar.
PETER: No, I heard bombs too. And if you go to the coast you can hear them really well from across the water. My Dad said.
THOMAS: Your Dad’s a liar.
PETER: No, he’s not. He works in the shipyard, repairs the boats. So he’d know. (Silence.) I’m gonna join him when I go back. I know about boats. (Silence for a few seconds. He picks up the model.) Can I move this?
THOMAS: Put that down. Now.
PETER: Can I put it on your side?
THOMAS: This is my room, it’s all my side. What are you, scared? It’s not real. There are no bombs in it.
PETER puts down the model back where it was. But swivels it so it faces away from his bed.
THOMAS: I’m going to fly one of those.
PETER: Why?
THOMAS: What do you mean why? Because I am, that’s why.
PETER: What if you crash?
THOMAS: I won’t.
PETER: You want to drop bombs on people?
THOMAS: On Jerries, yeah.
PETER: They’re people.
THOMAS: What? Are you a Nazi or something?
PETER: No!
THOMAS: You’re a sympathiser though.
PETER: I’m not. I just don’t know why you want to drop bombs on people.
THOMAS: I’m going to be in the air force. It’s what they do.
PETER: Why do you want to be in the air force?
THOMAS: Why are you so interested in my future career? This from the kid who wants to repair boats for a living. (Pause.) My brother was a pilot.
PETER: Oh. (Pause.) Is your brother-
THOMAS: Dead? Yeah.
PETER: Oh.
THOMAS: And I’m not in the market for a new one, by the way. Or any more friends. So, while you’re here, stay out of my way.
PETER: (Pause.) Okay.
A few seconds of silence. PETER sits on his bed.
THOMAS: I’m Thomas, by the way.
PETER: I’m Peter.
THOMAS: Pleasure.
Blackout.
SCENE 4
THOMAS and PETER stand awkwardly in the hallway. THOMAS has his book-bag slung over his shoulder, the corners slightly cracking from use. PETER clutches a new satchel to his chest.
BETH enters, holding two brown-paper parcels. She stops at THOMAS, handing him one of the bags and gives him a quick kiss on the top of his head. Then she crouches in front of PETER.
BETH: We’ve put together your lunch, sweetie. I’m not sure what you used to have on…the island…but this will be good hearty food.
He carefully takes the bag from her, giving her a small smile. She places her hands on his face, stroking his cheeks, before pulling him forwards to place a kiss on his forehead.
BETH: Don’t worry about today, Peter, Thomas will be by your side all the way, won’t you dear?
THOMAS: (Snarkily.) Sure.
BETH: And you’ll introduce him to all your little friends, sit together in lessons and lunch?
THOMAS: Fine.
BETH: But not that Archibald boy, what with his so-called…family. (THOMAS nods.) Thomas, you won’t introduce him to Archie.
THOMAS: I won’t, mother.
BETH: Good boy. Well, off you two go! My, my, Peter…your first day in a normal school!
PETER: Miss, I was at a normal school?
BETH: Oh, well of course. But this will be a bit different, I’ll bet. This one is the real thing, and the best in the area! I should know, I helped set it up. I’m sure your parents back home will be more than happy to know their only son is going to a real school!
PETER: (In French.) They’d be happier if I was home.
Both boys go out the front door, THOMAS shoulders past PETER. They walk in silence, THOMAS powering ahead, PETER trailing behind. A boy bursts in, leaping into THOMAS’ side. They have a shove match, which ends when the boy pushes THOMAS into PETER.
THOMAS: Archie!
ARCHIE: What?
THOMAS: You almost shoved me into him, you bastard.
ARCHIE: Oooh, look at the big man. So what if I am a bastard? (He notices PETER and wraps his arm around his shoulders.) His parents should wash his mouth out with soap! Right? Right?
PETER looks away.
ARCHIE: Who’s the little weirdo, Tom?
THOMAS: Just this French kid my parents have taken in.
ARCHIE: French, huh? Bonjour, je m’appelle Archibald.
PETER: I’m not French.
ARCHIE: What?
PETER: I’m not from France-
THOMAS: He’s from an island close enough to France.
PETER: I’m not-
ARCHIE: Could you see the boats? All our soldiers on our little sailing boats, must have been incredible. Did you see any bodies? Is that how you got here, sneaking on a fishing boat, like a little coward?
PETER walks away.
THOMAS: Hey!
ARCHIE: Kid, come back I was only messing with you.
THOMAS: Don’t be such a wuss!
ARCHIE: No, it’s alright Tom. He’s only little. Bertha’s brother came back on the boats. He hasn’t left his room since.
THOMAS: Well it was obvious you were joking, he’s just drawing attention to himself.
ARCHIE: Tom, bring him back, he’s a little too young to be wandering off alone, and he’s new to the area - he’ll get lost.
THOMAS: He’s travelled far enough by himself alone, a few metres are not going to hurt him. There’s no Germans hiding in the school hedges.
ARCHIE: You don’t know where spies could be, that’s the whole point!
THOMAS: Right ok. (He beckons PETER over) Anyway kid, this is Archibald. Archie, this is…what did you say your name was again?
PETER: (Mumbling.) Peter.
ARCHIE: How old are you?
PETER: Eight.
ARCHIE: Ah, huit. I remember that age fondly. Are you very clever Peter?
PETER: I’m not sure. I think so.
ARCHIE: Well perhaps Mr Stokes will have you take your lessons with us older boys, if you are really clever. We’re older so we get taught all the really difficult stuff, but I’m sure you can sit with Tom, and do some sums while we work, as you are foster brothers.
THOMAS: Not brothers.
ARCHIE: Well not yet, but give it time old boy! Soon you will be inseparable.
THOMAS: Only because I’m always forced to be by his side. At home, at school, in my room.
ARCHIE: They haven’t made either of you go in-
THOMAS: Of course not.
ARCHIE: Right, sorry.
An awkward pause.
ARCHIE: So, Tom. How’d hunting with your old man go yesterday?
THOMAS: Oh…fine…
ARCHIE: Did you manage to get anything?
THOMAS: We- I…a deer. Shot a deer.
ARCHIE: That’s great.
THOMAS: We have it for lunch – in a pie with bread on the side to soak up any sauce.
PETER: What?
The sound of the school bell. ARCHIE breaks into a run but PETER grabs THOMAS’ arm.
THOMAS: What? Get off you little prick.
PETER: The deer…
THOMAS: What about the deer?
PETER: Tom-
THOMAS: Don’t call me that.
PETER: Thomas…I-I can’t eat the deer.
THOMAS: What do you mean you can’t eat the deer?
PETER: I can’t eat it. It wasn’t on a farm. It was in the forest - free.
THOMAS: So what?
PETER: I just…I just can’t.
THOMAS: Well you have to, you little baby.
PETER: What?
THOMAS: You have to, otherwise my mother and father will be upset.
PETER: They said I could do whatever makes me happy-
THOMAS: And I’m saying if you don’t eat it I’ll shoot you like I shot that deer. Right between your eyes. Brains blown out.
He shoves PETER by pressing on his head. ARCHIE has noticed they are not following, and makes his way towards them.
PETER: Shoot me like you shot the deer? But I heard your dad tell Gertie-
THOMAS: Heard WHAT?
He shoves PETER onto the ground.
ARCHIE: Tom! What’s going on?
THOMAS: Nothing, he’s just learning his place. Now run along, you invader.
PETER scrambles to his feet and sprints to school offstage.
ARCHIE: What was that about?
THOMAS: I worry, you know, what if we’ve let a German into our house.
ARCHIE: Well you haven’t. The lad’s not even French, so he’s not even one of them gone rogue or sent out by the Jerries after the invasion. He’s eight.
THOMAS: They always say to look out for things that are only slightly unusual. A sort-of-French little evacuee boy might be their perfect spy!
ARCHIE: Maybe, I don’t know. He seems harmless.
THOMAS: You don’t even know him!
ARCHIE: Neither do you! Let’s just give it a few weeks. Play the long game – be nice to him.
THOMAS: But-
ARCHIE: Look Tom – you are either going to be a nice to some poor island kid shipped away from a likely invasion or you are going to trick a spy into thinking you aren’t onto him. Just be nice.
THOMAS: You do your way, I’ll do mine. I bet you five shillings on who gets him to crack first.
ARCHIE hesitates, and then shakes THOMAS’ hand. They both run off into school.
SCENE 5
BAKER-BARBIER estate foyer.
BETH paces through the foyer as GERTIE rushes on from the opposite side of the stage. She adjusts her skirts and waits for BETH to speak. She waves GERTIE away and she exits the stage. BETH watches her go, she follows.
Enter THOMAS and PETER, mid conversation.
THOMAS: -never did them because we don’t need times tables, they’re stupid.
PETER: But they’re easy, and we learnt it today so has to be-
THOMAS: They’re pointless.
PETER: Why? You don’t like numbers, Tom?
THOMAS: Do you like them?
PETER: Well, yea-
THOMAS: Then no. And stop calling me Tom.
PETER: But they’re great. I love maths. It's like a quiz I can win every time.
THOMAS: Whatever.
PETER: Tom-
THOMAS: I don’t like stupid maths. Leave me alone. And stop calling me Tom!
PETER: But doesn’t / Archie like maths?
THOMAS: / Shut it. Don’t call him that. Anyway, you don’t even know him.
PETER: I’ve met him-
THOMAS: He doesn’t like school, any of it.
PETER: My school was better.
THOMAS: Oh you’re gonna be in for it when mother hears-
ALBERT: (Offstage.) Boys.
Enter ALBERT.
THOMAS: Father.
PETER: Mr Barb- sorry, Mr Baker-Barbier.
ALBERT: Afternoon. How was school?
PETER: It was good sir.
ALBERT: No need to be so formal. This isn’t the army you know.
THOMAS: (Mumbles.) If only.
PETER: Yes, Mr Baker-Barbier. Sorry.
ALBERT: Now what did you-
THOMAS: Anything exciting at the factory?
ALBERT: Work is always exciting, Tom. The grind of the machines, the beauty of a finished product. Though we have had some-
THOMAS: Anyone get their arm stuck in the machines today?
ALBERT: The right word would be trapped.
THOMAS: Of course. Did anyone get their arm trapped in the machines today?
ALBERT: How’s school going first?
PETER: Today we did some times tables, Thomas didn’t-
THOMAS: Get anything wrong. I’ve been studying them all week so I was the most prepared in the class.
ALBERT: Well done, Tom. Maths and English are the bedrock of society. And you, Peter?
PETER: I-
THOMAS: He’s getting there. They didn’t teach him adequate student etiquette on the island. Mr Stokes got him to tuck his shirt in properly three times. And his shoe laces were always coming undone. He tripped over them last week.
PETER: Just because you kept fiddling with them.
THOMAS: He thinks his school was better.
PETER: That’s not what I said.
ALBERT: You ought to be more grateful, Peter. If it wasn’t for my wife, that school wouldn’t even be there.
PETER: I didn’t mean anything by it sir.
ALBERT: It’s a fine institution. You’ll have a fine reputation for attending and an even better one of you behave appropriately.
THOMAS: Don’t you want a good reputation, Peter?
ALBERT: A man can go very far with a good reputation.
PETER: Yes sir, I understand. But Tom-Thomas fiddled with my shoes. That wasn’t my fault.
ALBERT: That’s boys for you, Peter. Don’t let it get you down. A few pranks to ease you in never hurt anyone. Builds character. You’ll be the best of friends in no time. Jacob – my business partner – used to do much worse than fiddle with my shoelaces when we were at Cambridge. But I’d always get him back.
THOMAS: I bet you did, father.
PETER: You went to Cambridge?
ALBERT: As did most of the gentry around here. I’m sure you’ll make it there as well if you can survive the occasional mishap with your shoelaces and manage to tuck your shirt in properly.
THOMAS: So what about this man at the factory?
ALBERT: You don’t mind, do you, Peter?
PETER shakes his head.
ALBERT: We had a couple new hires in and one of them was a little eager to show off. His last employer gave him the sack, but I’ve always believed in second chances for those deserving. He was a midlands boy, no older than twenty-five and already supporting a wife and seven children. Can you imagine seven children running around a one room house? But he needed the work and seemed like a decent enough chap. Knew his arse from his elbow that sort of thing. And before his dismissal had a very good record I was assured.
THOMAS: Then what did he do?
ALBERT: As I said. Eagerness. Now eagerness is not a crime in and of itself, nor should it be discouraged. It is a great joy as an employer to be surrounded by those who are eager to work. However, to be overeager can be rather dangerous. We had him fitting the tires near the end of the line when apparently he slipped and put a nail through his hand.
THOMAS: Really?
ALBERT: Oh, yes.
THOMAS: Was there a lot of blood, father?
ALBERT: Well, he had fastened himself to the inside wheel half – not much blood when he still connected, but after? Took two men and a foreman to get him out. Wasn’t the sort of thing you’d show a lady.
PETER: Was he okay?
ALBERT: He’ll live. But he cost us the parts so we’ve had to let him go.
PETER: Why, sir? He made a mistake.
ALBERT: A mistake that cost the factory time and money. I could have lost my commission had my foreman not acted fast enough. Besides, his hand is beyond any further use, and we need strong, capable young men, Peter. That’s how good work gets done. Sensible men doing sensible work. This fellow proved he was not sensible, so he had to go. He’ll receive an advance on his first week's pay as compensation so that he might see a doctor, but that is as far as my charity extends.
PETER: I see.
THOMAS: Good. That’s the proper thing to do.
ALBERT: Indeed.
PETER: Will he work again?
THOMAS: At the factory? Certainly not.
ALBERT: No, though I’m sure he’ll be able to find something more suited to his disposition. Now boys, it’s Wednesday, do you have the post Thomas?
THOMAS: Yes, father.
THOMAS fishes a bunch of letters from his satchel, sorts through them and hands several over. ALBERT looks through them.
PETER: Anything for me?
ALBERT: I’m afraid not, lad. But the post can be a bit slow and maybe your parents want to give you time to settle in. They were right to send you to us when they did, given how people are talking about the Channel Islands at the moment.
PETER: Yes, sir.
THOMAS: The aunts have made their monthly presence known. I’ll send them a reply soon as I can.
ALBERT: Good. The sooner the better.
PETER: Can’t I have a look-
THOMAS: No. It’s rude to look through someone else’s post.
ALBERT: I’m sorry, Peter. The rest are all business correspondence of mine or part of the socialite cohort.
PETER: Mother said she’d write.
THOMAS: Maybe she wasn’t bothered.
PETER: But… she (He starts to cry quietly)
ALBERT: Beth. Gertie. Would you mind coming here?
THOMAS: Is he crying?
PETER: No.
THOMAS: You are. Proper crying. You wuss.
ALBERT: Women! If you wouldn’t mind.
Enter BETH and GERTIE.
BETH: Yes, Bertie? (She notices PETER.) Oh, my darling. What’s wrong?
GERTIE: He’s just a little choked up.
ALBER: You know what to do?
BETH: I’ve been dealing with crying little boys longer than I can remember. Some hot cocoa should do it. Would you like that, sweetie?
PETER nods.
ALBERT: And Tom I want no more of that behaviour do you hear me?
THOMAS: Father, I was-
ALBERT: There’s no need for that sort of language. Under any circumstances.
THOMAS: Yes, father.
BETH: Now let’s go and get some cocoa, Peter.
ALBERT: If only that’s what it took for grown men.
BETH: For grown men you get them whiskey and little distraction. Don’t you, Gertie?
ALBERT: Whiskey certainly helps /
BETH: / Oh, but you need one or two things to keep you occupied while you drink it, don’t you dear?
ALBERT: Well, after this day’s work I think a whiskey might help.
BETH: Would it? Gertie will get you some. Perhaps that’ll help you relax after such a long day at work. Come along, Peter.
Exit BETH and PETER.
THOMAS: Father?
ALBERT: Thomas?
THOMAS: May I be excused?
ALBERT: Of course. You have homework?
THOMAS: Yes, father.
ALBERT: Well, get it done before dinner, won’t you? And read your aunt’s letters. I don’t want them barking at the door again like they did after Christmas, you’ve got to be prompt with old spinsters.
THOMAS: I’ll try.
ALBERT: You will. A proper gentleman is-
THOMAS: Prompt and efficient. I know.
ALBERT: Yes. Well done. Run along then. I’ll be in the… study.
GERTIE: Whiskey, love?
ALBERT: Go on then.
Exit ALBERT and GERTIE.
THOMAS waits for a moment. He pulls another letter out of his satchel, it is addressed to PETER.
THOMAS: ‘Dear Peter’.
THOMAS smirks. Then runs off stage.
Blackout.
SCENE 6
The school dinner hall. THOMAS and ARCHIE are sitting at one end of a table. PETER is sitting at the other. Other students are crowded around other tables.
ARCHIE: Didn’t he say they’re neutral, though?
THOMAS: Roosevelt says that, yeah, but that’s just for the Axis’ benefit – so they don’t catch on. Father says that so far they’ve been just selling us weapons, and now apparently they’re ‘loaning’. It’s only a matter of time before they enter the war too, you’ll see.
ARCHIE: Oh. You’re a bit obsessed with this, you know?
THOMAS: It’s the most important thing that’s ever happened. Obviously I’m–
ARCHIE: Not to you, though.
THOMAS: What?
ARCHIE: It’s not happening to you, is it?
THOMAS: Soon it might be.
ARCHIE: What’s that mean? They’ll never touch British soil.
THOMAS: (Hushed.) Maybe one of them already has… (He points at PETER with his knife.)
ARCHIE: (Mockingly.) Well it’s hard to believe otherwise, what with all the evidence you have.
THOMAS: You don’t live with him. He’s proper weird, Arch.
ARCHIE: Sure – I mean I still don’t see it, and no one else does, actually – but sure.
THOMAS: You better have my five shillings ready, that’s all I’ll say.
NIGEL enters, frantic.
NIGEL: Fritz on British soil!
THOMAS’ head whips around.
THOMAS: What?
NIGEL: The Germans have invaded the Channel Islands!
All heads turn to him. PETER freezes.
ARCHIE gets up and runs over to NIGEL.
ARCHIE: When? Who told you that?
NIGEL: It’s on the radio.
ARCHIE goes over to a radio, turns it on, tunes it.
RADIO BROADCAST:-a brass band in the town square, playing music as the Nazis marched through. We heard gunshots. We barely got the children out. Everyone was fighting their way onto boats. But now no one can leave. No one is allowed to leave.” We heard there from… (The broadcast continues.)
ARCHIE: God, help us.
THOMAS: I told you.
PETER drops his cutlery, stands up, and runs offstage.
NIGEL: Where is he going?
THOMAS: He’s gone to fight them off! Don’t worry everyone, Pete’s on it!
The boys laugh.
ARCHIE: His family’s from the Channel islands.
NIGEL: Oh, God.
The boys mutter in worry and confusion.
ARCHIE: You don’t think he’d actually–
THOMAS shrugs.
ARCHIE: Nige, go get a teacher, tell them Pete’s run away.
NIGEL: Aye, Aye Captain Bastard.
THOMAS: Wait. What’s the fuss?
ARCHIE: What if he’s actually trying to go back?
THOMAS: What if he is? He won’t make it a mile. He’ll be back before last period.
ARCHIE: Tom, shouldn’t you be more worried? Nigel, go.
NIGEL salutes. Leaves.
THOMAS: Me, worried? Why? I’ll be happier without him. Hey, maybe he’ll get lost, or wash up on a beach next week. One less spy on our soil.
ARCHIE: For Christs’ sake, Tom, spies aren’t eight! Sure, he might be a brat, but that’s the extent of it. Your parents would kill you if they knew you let him run away.
Pause.
THOMAS: Fine.
ARCHIE: Where would he have gone?
THOMAS: I don’t– (He thinks.) boats? He likes boats. If he’s actually stupid enough to try and get home, he’d be going to the river.
ARCHIE: Okay, I’ll find Nigel, tell the teachers. The rest of us should look for him outside – coast bound. He’s only small, we should be able to catch up. Go!
ARCHIE waves his hands and the boys scatter offstage.
THOMAS looks at ARCHIE, exasperated, for a few seconds. ARCHIE urges him.
THOMAS: (Leaving.) Fine, I’ll go.
He exits, followed by ARCHIE.
Blackout.
ACT 2
SCENE 1
Christmas 1941 - two years later. A spotlight shines on ten-year-old PETER, dressed in a white robe. He is singing ‘Silent Night’. As the song progresses, the spotlight dims and main stage lights brighten, revealing BETH standing beside PETER.
Sixteen-year-old THOMAS and ARCHIE are hunched over a box of wreaths to the side.
ARCHIE: Do you know where your mother would like me to put these?
THOMAS: Why don’t you ask her?
ARCHIE: She won’t even look at me. I doubt she likes my born-from-sin hands touching all the church’s wreaths.
THOMAS: Arch, it’s not like I’m going to get a warmer response.
ARCHIE: Come on, Tom. Surely it’s not that bad. She’s your mother.
THOMAS: (Turning towards BETH.) Mother…Mother.
Her eyes are locked onto PETER.
THOMAS: See? (Firmly.) Mother!
BETH: Shh. Thomas, you’re distracting him.
PETER: Silent Night, Holy Night,
Shepherds quail at the sight-
THOMAS: Quake.
ARCHIE: What?
THOMAS: He said quail, the line is quake. (Quietly sings, in a lower register.) Shepherds quake at the sight.
ARCHIE: Maybe that’s just what they sang back in Guernsey.
THOMAS: He’s here though. That’s what our lyrics have always been. That’s what I always used to sing.
ARCHIE: Oh…Tom, Peter was always going to be asked to sing it this year. Your voice broke so much last Christmas, it’s much too deep for it now.
THOMAS: Yeah, I knew they would choose him this year. Soon as my voice cracked during the solo, I saw my parents’ jaws drop, and they both turned to look at Peter sitting in the middle of them. I just hoped the war would be over so he’d be thrown back to Guernsey before Christmas came around again. Maybe Nigel’s little brother would have been my replacement.
ARCHIE: Peter does sing well enough, though. So at least it’s not…favouritism or anything.
THOMAS: Sure.
ARCHIE: Come on. If they really favoured the kid, they’d have given it to him straight away last year.
THOMAS: Maybe they did ask him. But he’d only been here for half a year by that point, he’d have been too shy to say yes.
ARCHIE: I think they had more chance of asking me to sing Silent Night last year.
Both boys laugh.
THOMAS: My mother would have thrown a fit if they let the local bastard boy be the face of Christmas.
ARCHIE: Is Christmas not about a boy who was born to a woman who became pregnant before she was married?
THOMAS: Hey! Don’t compare yourself to our Lord. That is a very different situation, and you’re lucky only I heard that. We’re in a Church, Archie. Be a bit more respectful.
ARCHIE: Says you. I’m not the only one being blasphemous.
THOMAS: What’s that supposed to mean?
ARCHIE: Thou shalt not covet.
THOMAS: What?
ARCHIE: You’re jealous of Peter, you have been since he got here. A year and a half of envy is taking its toll on you.
ARCHIE laughs, but quickly stops himself when he sees THOMAS’ face.
THOMAS: I’m not jealous of that kid.
ARCHIE: Sure.
THOMAS: I’m not! Maybe I was…but there’s no point in hating something that’s always going to happen.
ARCHIE: Being best friends with their least favourite person is probably not helping you. You don’t have to be perfect, but I’m sure there’s other things that they look to you for over Peter.
THOMAS: Mother!
Both go quiet, waiting to see if BETH answers, but she’s too busy helping PETER off his stand. The boys sit on the pews beside them.
THOMAS: It’s not even that. I couldn’t care less about them giving him more attention.
ARCHIE: You were pretty upset about them having a huge 10th birthday celebration for him, right after they only had a meal for your 16th –
THOMAS: Shut it.
ARCHIE: Sorry.
Pause.
THOMAS: Sorry, that was harsh Archie. It’s just…I don’t care about Silent Night. Of course it makes sense for a little boy to sing it. Ha… (Takes a shaky breath.) You remember Harry used to sing In The Bleak Midwinter…?
ARCHIE: They’re getting Peter to sing it instead of you?
THOMAS: No, no. I’m not singing it. No one is. I understood why they didn’t give his solo to me last year – it was the first Christmas without him – but it’s gone. Our family tradition, our memory of him, me carrying on his mantle, Harry…it’s all gone.
BETH: Boys, you know what God thinks about idle hands. Why are you sitting down? Peter’s been working so hard, Harry, and only half your work is done! That’s not good enough.
THOMAS & ARCHIE: Sorry, ma’am.
ARCHIE mouths ‘Harry’ at THOMAS, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs.
BETH: We’re going to head home, to give us some well deserved rest and hot food. You two can stay here, under Reverend Charles’ watchful eye and finish the decorations.
BETH and PETER begin to exit.
BETH: Oh Peter, you’re going to do so well. One week left to practise, and then you can show everyone how talented you are – and how proud me and Albert are of you partaking in our family traditions.
ARCHIE grabs THOMAS’ shoulder, as the other boy makes a start towards them. BETH and PETER walk offstage, their conversation still loud.
PETER: Miss, could I also please sing another song? It’s one me and my family always sing at Christmas-
BETH: Maybe next year, we always stick to the same programme, and I don’t think we should depart from it for some little carol.
THOMAS waits for their voices to disappear, before he flips the box of decorations off the chair, kicks it and storms off the other direction. ARCHIE goes to follow, but quickly puts all the decorations back in the box and says a small prayer, before exiting the same way as THOMAS.
SCENE 2
THOMAS is alone in his room, reading a letter. There is a box of other letters on his bed.
PETER: (Offstage.) Tom!
THOMAS frantically hides the box. PETER enters.
THOMAS: Yeah? What.
PETER: Have you taken the post yet?
THOMAS: Yes, this morning. Why?
PETER: I have a letter.
THOMAS: For home?
PETER: Yeah. It’s only short. Can you take it?
THOMAS: You heard me say I’ve been, yes?
PETER: Yeah but–
THOMAS: I’m not going again, I’ve got enough to do.
PETER: But it has to be today.
THOMAS: I said no, Pete.
PETER: But–
THOMAS: I’m doing work. Leave me alone.
PETER goes silent, begins to well-up.
THOMAS: Are you- Christ alive. You’re seriously upset? Fine, I’ll post it tomorrow.
PETER shakes his head.
THOMAS: You don’t even know if they’re getting them. They would’ve replied by now anyway.
PETER cries.
THOMAS: Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.
PETER: It’s not that… It’s my mum’s birthday in two weeks.
THOMAS: Okay?
PETER: I forgot until I saw Gertie.
THOMAS: Gertie reminded you it’s your mother’s birthday?
PETER: No, she was talking about Harry.
THOMAS: Oh.
PETER: But it reminded me that it’s her birthday soon so I ran to write a message and if I don’t send the letter now it definitely won’t get to her on time because they won’t pick it up at the weekend. And I don’t want her to know that I forgot because I never forget. And I know it probably won’t get to her anyway so you don’t need to tell me, because I know she’s probably dead–
THOMAS: Hey, why would you think that?
PETER: You said she is.
THOMAS: What? No I didn’t.
PETER: Yes you did.
THOMAS: You’re a liar.
PETER: No. That day in school when we heard about the Germans landing… and I ran to get to a boat and you chased me.
THOMAS: I don’t know that I chased you.
PETER: Well you found me and you said that it was a stupid idea to run away because you’d get in trouble and I’d die at sea and mum’s probably dead already.
Pause.
THOMAS: I think– I think I just didn’t want you to run away. Because I would get in trouble if you did. So I think– that’s probably why I said that.
PETER says nothing.
THOMAS: Sorry.
PETER: Even if she is dead, I’d like my mum to know that I remembered her birthday.
THOMAS: Yeah. Fine. Okay. I’ll take it in a minute.
PETER: Oh, thank you Tom! Thomas, sorry.
THOMAS: It’s fine.
PETER hands him the letter. He takes it, pockets it.
PETER begins walking over to his bed.
THOMAS: We found out about Harry in a letter.
PETER: Oh.
THOMAS: So, I mean, no news is better than bad news.
PETER: Okay.
THOMAS: Maybe they’re alive is what I mean. They could be alive?
PETER gives a weak smile.
PETER: How old would he be today?
THOMAS: Eighteen
PETER: I thought you couldn’t join ‘til eighteen. That means he was–
THOMAS: He left after his sixteenth birthday. In two days it’ll be two years. And, yeah, they’re not supposed to let you in that young. He was a great flyer. He knew so much about planes.
PETER: Like you.
THOMAS: I suppose. But he knew more. Most of my models are his, the old ones anyway. He went to the factory with father all the time. Father used to show him how they made the parts and what they do.
PETER: Have you ever been to the factory?
THOMAS: A few times, but not for a while. Father doesn’t want me there. I don’t want to be there. That was Harry’s thing.
PETER: Why did he leave?
Long pause.
THOMAS: (He shakes PETER’s letter, gets up.) This’ll make the last pick up if I take it now.
PETER: Thank you, Tom.
THOMAS: You’re welcome.
He exits.
Blackout.
SCENE 3
It is Christmas Eve. The BAKER-BARBIERS are gathered around the table having dinner.
Silence.
ALBERT: Delicious, nothing beats Christmas dinner.
BETH: Hmmm.
ALBERT: Cook’s out done herself tonight. I’ll have Gertie tell her the good news.
THOMAS: Yes.
PETER: Uh-huh.
BETH: You’ve done something with your hair, Thomas?
ALBERT: But don’t eat too much boys. She’s got the day off tomorrow.
THOMAS: Yes. I got it done with Archie. He said it’s the new style in America.
BETH: Looks nice.
ALBERT: Bit poncy don’t you think?
PETER: I thought your hair was nice before.
THOMAS: I like it like this.
BETH: That’s good then. I’m glad.
THOMAS: And Archie said girls will like it as well.
PETER: Girls? You don’t talk to girls.
THOMAS: Yeah I do. I talk to loads of girls.
ALBERT: Proper ladies prefer English gentlemen. Not American gigolos with their gum and greasy hair.
BETH: Until they’re married, then the new world seems rather alluring-
THOMAS: Americans are cool. They’re going to help us win the war.
ALBERT: That is what the papers say.
THOMAS: The papers don’t lie, Father.
ALBERT: Don’t they?
PETER: Not about the war.
THOMAS: About anything. It is the duty of a newspaper to tell the truth-
ALBERT: as they see it.
THOMAS: We all see the war the same way. If you’re a patriot.
PETER: Hitler’s spent. He can’t invade anymore. Tom said that once the Americans join it’ll be over.
BETH: Why do you want to be American, darling?
THOMAS: They’re going to save the world. I want to save the world.
BETH: The world-
ALBERT: What? But what about the factory?
THOMAS: It… I hadn’t thought about-
ALBERT: Of course not. You’re all up in the clouds these days aren’t you.
PETER: The world is more important, sir.
BETH: Not as important as you, my dears.
THOMAS: I’m thinking about my future-
ALBERT: Since when was the future American? That factory is your world as far as you're all concerned. Without it you wouldn’t have everything I’ve given you.
THOMAS: I just meant that-
ALBERT: Meant what? Don’t you care about our future?
THOMAS: I just meant that-
PETER: If it wasn’t for the war I wouldn’t be here at all!
ALBERT stands up.
THOMAS: Father stop it.
BETH: Sit down.
ALBERT: Here boy. Now.
BETH: Bertie-
THOMAS: Leave it. It’s my fault anyway.
PETER: It’s okay, Tom-
THOMAS: Don’t call me Tom.
ALBERT: Here. Boy!
BETH: Bertie. Harry. Stop It!
Silence.
ALBERT: Are we really talking about this again Harry- Tom.
THOMAS: I, I would like to… forget (it). I’m going for a walk.
PETER: I’ll join-
THOMAS stares at him. Peter remains seated. ALBERT goes to BETH. She does not look at him.
THOMAS exists.
Pause.
PETER: Best potatoes I’ve ever had.
BETH: I’m glad.
ALBERT: Would you give us a moment?
PETER: Sorry.
Blackout
SCENE 4
The BAKER-BARBIER estate. ALBERT, THOMAS and BETH are waiting by the front door, ready for the Midnight Mass.
ALBERT: Where is that boy? We cannot be late.
BETH: I’m– I’m sure he’ll be down soon.
ALBERT: Yes but his–
BETH: It’s fine. I’m sure they’ve reserved our seats. Especially since… you know.
THOMAS: Can we go now? Mother? Hello? (He waves at BETH, she is staring at the stairs.)
BETH: Not now. Do you think he’s nervous?
ALBERT: Nervous? Our boy doesn’t do nerves.
THOMAS: (Muttering under his breath.) ‘Our boy’. I’m standing here.
ALBERT: What was that? Come on / speak up, Thomas.
BETH: / I should check on him.
THOMAS: What I said, Father, was why did you say our boy? He’s not yours. He’s an invader. He’s not your son. I’m–
ALBERT: He’s been with us for nearly two years, I can call him what I like.
BETH: Do you think I should check on him, Bertie?
ALBERT: Go ahead, darling. I need to talk to our son.
BETH exits, humming ‘In The Bleak Midwinter’.
THOMAS: If he doesn’t come down can I sing the solo?
ALBERT: No, your singing hurts your mother’s ears.
THOMAS: You know, I went to the factory with Archie yesterday.
ALBERT: You took that boy to the factory? You’ve never done anything I say and the one time you do you have to do so with such unfortunate company.
THOMAS: Never done what you say? I’ve given up my room. Given up my solo. Given up my–
ALBERT: Insolent child. Your best friend’s a bastard. You look like an American. You refused to take an interest in the business for years. And you couldn’t even shoot a deer.
THOMAS: The deer? This has all been about the deer?
ALBERT: Harry shot it on the first try.
THOMAS: I’m not Harry.
ALBERT: Then why do you keep acting like him?
THOMAS: It’s not like I’ve got anyone else to look up-
Enter BETH and PETER, crying, carrying a box under his arm.
PETER: You liar. You.
He throws the box down on the floor, the letters scatter. He runs towards THOMAS.
THOMAS: Where have you been?
PETER: Mother. All this time. Alive. (He slaps and kicks wildly at THOMAS.) How many more do you have?
BETH: We’re going to be late-
THOMAS: Because of you. (He grapples with PETER.)
ALBERT: (Under his breath.) Pathetic. You can’t even defend yourself against a ten-year-old.
THOMAS lets go of PETER, turns to his father. PETER punches THOMAS in the face, knocking him to the floor. ALBERT smirks.
THOMAS: (Standing up.) Peter, I can explain.
PETER: You told me they were dead. I believed they-
THOMAS: I’m sorry, I’ve been wanting to tell you. It was a prank.
PETER: A prank? A PRANK?
THOMAS: Father told me to prank you. Something about building character-
PETER: I thought I was an orphan.
THOMAS: Father, you liked the idea-
ALBERT: Liked. I told you one letter.
PETER: I thought you liked me.
BETH: Bertie, is this true?
ALBERT: I thought it would-
THOMAS: Every time I took a letter, you would smile at me. Like you smiled at Harry.
ALBERT: Stop going on about Harry.
PETER: No. No. No.
PETER runs offstage, crying. BETH follows.
ALBERT: How could you do that? Cruel, cruel behaviour. That you’d blame me, too.
THOMAS reaches into his pocket, pulls out a letter, and hands it to ALBERT.
THOMAS: I know that was all wrong, father. But this one is different. He can’t find out, not today.
ALBERT unfolds the letter and reads it,
ALBERT: Good God. I’ll deal with this after Christmas, Peter’s had enough from you. Put that letter away, I’ll go get them.
THOMAS: Fine.
Exit ALBERT.
THOMAS gathers the letters back into their box.
ALBERT: (Offstage.) Come on, Peter, our boys don’t cry.
THOMAS finishes organising the letters. BETH comes onstage.
BETH: Your father will deal with Peter. I can’t even look at you right now.
THOMAS: None of this is my fault.
BETH: So whose is it? Your attitude, your friends, your interest in those awful planes–
THOMAS: I’m lucky to have such concerned parents.
BETH: Only because you give us so much to be concerned about.
THOMAS: I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you, mother.
Pause.
BETH: You really are just like Harry. You want to leave like him. I know you do.
THOMAS: Mother…
BETH: It’s all happening again.
THOMAS: Because nothing has changed. Harry left for a reason.
BETH: And he never came back.
THOMAS: He never wanted to. Even if he hadn’t– and neither would I.
BETH: I’m sorry we’re such a disappointment to you. Have we not given–
THOMAS: You replaced him, mother.
BETH: Tom–
THOMAS: So you can replace me too.
BETH: Thomas, that’s absurd. Peter has another family.
THOMAS hands BETH the letter.
BETH reads in silence.
ALBERT enters, dragging PETER behind him.
BETH: Oh Peter, darling!
ALBERT: I’m sure he’s feeling better now. Aren’t you, boy?
PETER: What’s that?
BETH tries to hide the letter. PETER snatches it and reads.
ALBERT: No. Not that one.
PETER drops the letter. Silence.
PETER: (Crying.) Is this another prank, Tom? It has to be. Please, yes, it must be. It’s funny. They’re alive, right? (He starts crying again.)
ALBERT: I didn’t think it would go like this.
PETER: Please just five more minutes. Five more minutes with them. I want my mum! I want my dad!
ALBERT: I’m sorry, son. We were going to tell you after Christmas.
PETER: I want my mum!
BETH goes over to him.
BETH: Peter, dear.
PETER: I want MY mum!
After a moment, he hugs BETH.
THOMAS: You can still read them.
ALBERT: It is time to go now. Peter.
PETER: I don’t want to go anywhere with him.
BETH: But the song you’ve been practising, Peter. It’ll make them proud.
THOMAS: Why does he have to sing? You didn’t make me sing when Harry died. Why should he have to now? He’s just a kid whose whole family is dead.
ALBERT: Stop being disrespectful. None of that matters.
THOMAS: Harry doesn’t matter?
ALBERT slaps THOMAS.
BETH: Let’s just go. Thomas, darling-
THOMAS: I’m staying here.
Pause.
ALBERT: Fine. Peter. Get in the car.
BETH: Hurry. We mustn’t be late.
Exit BETH and PETER.
ALBERT: You really are Harry’s brother.
Exit ALBERT.
THOMAS looks at the family portrait.
Blackout.
SCENE 5
Split Scene. Upstage centre, PETER sings ‘Silent Night’.
THOMAS – in baggy RAF uniform, carrying his father’s rifle – appears downstage.
The sounds of deer scurrying. He slowly stops, crouches, aims. The gun explodes.
THOMAS stares out into the audience. PETER’S song comes to an end. Blackout