SHIFTING SANDS
by Steve Melia
Characters
David Munro A journalist (fictional character – the real newspaper articles quoted were all unattributed) – as he slips between time periods, his age should remain indeterminate. He speaks with a soft Scottish accent.
Richard Hansford Worth (Real person) A Plymouth-born civil engineer and philanthropist, aged 34 in 1902 (when he appears in Act 2). Speaks standard English with a slight Westcountry accent.
Mrs Spital Owner of the London Inn (A real person, with circumstances slightly changed) A widow in her late middle-age in 1897. Comes from and later returns to Salisbury. She suffers from arthritis and walks with difficulty.
George Wills (Real person) The “leading” fisherman of the village, aged 64 in 1897. Speaks in Devon dialect with occasional attempts to sound more authoritative by speaking “praper”.
Tom Wills (Fictional) George’s son, also a fisherman. Like many other young working class men of the time, he is an obsessive “self-improver”. His speech – standard English with occasional traces of his Devon origins –shows signs of conscious attempts at “improvement”.
Jim Trout (A real person) a fisherman, age unknown, but younger than George, older than Tom. Speaks in a strong Devon dialect.
Edith Wills (“Edie”) (Fictional) Wife of Tom. A young woman in 1897. Speaks in Devon dialect.
Inspector (An amalgam of 3 real people) Appointed by the Board of Trade to chair the public inquiries.
Mr Brooks (Real person) Agent for Sir John Jackson Ltd
Official (An amalgam of several real officials) From the Board of Trade
Note: story spans 25 year, so several of the characters will need to be “aged”.
Music gives way to background noise
of waves and occasional cry of gulls throughout the scene.
Two desks stand on either side
of the stage in front of the curtain, possibly on an extension, throughout the
play.
Munro enters right. Worth enters left. They meet in the middle of the stage and shake hands.
Munro: Mr Worth…
Worth: Mr Munro…
[They shake hands, and both of them regard the beach in front of them].
Munro: Who would have imagined?
Worth: If those who made the decisions were capable of imagination, we should not be here now.
[Munro pulls out a notepad]
Are you here on duty?
Munro: A journalist is always on duty. A comment for our readers – from the hero of the story?
Worth: If your story needs a hero then you will have to invent one. For the rest of us, I suggest a discreet silence would be more appropriate.
Munro: Come Richard, you are too modest. They have invited you today to present you with a gift.
Worth: Really?
Munro: Of course, what celebration would be complete without a gift to those who made it possible?
Worth: If they knew what I know there would be less talk of celebration.
Munro: And what is that?
Jim [from off-stage Right]: Gen’lmen!
Worth: We are summoned. Ask me later.
Jim [from off-stage Right]: Hey!
Munro: Was that erm…
Worth: Jim Trout?
Munro: Yes, of course. You know… for a moment it reminded me…
Munro turns slowly pointing right as lights fade, then exits right
as Worth exits left.
Note: scene 1 should run almost
immediately into scene 2. The curtain
opens to reveal the village Reading Room.
Chairs are arranged around the edge, with a couple of small tables in
the middle and a bookcase on one side towards the back. George Wills and Mrs Spital are
reading. Edith Wills, who is heavily
pregnant is whispering in the ear of Tom Wills who is distracted from his reading.
Jim: [from off-stage Right] Hey Boat!
[As the curtain fully opens, Munro
enters hesitantly from the rear Right entrance, immediately followed by Jim,
who runs in, pushing past him, yelling:]
Hey Boat!
George, Tom and Edith Wills jump up and run out following Jim, pushing past a startled Munro. As they leave, Mrs Spital stands up, glancing at Munro, whose attention is torn between her and a window in front of the stage (indicated by lighting) which faces the beach. As she walks, with difficulty towards Front, he follows her, and they both look out of the window.
Spital: You’ve never seen seine fishing then?
Munro: I can’t say that I have.
Spital: You’re not from round here?
Munro: No.
She holds his stare before relaxing into a smile.
Spital: Neither am I. [Offering her hand]. Mrs Spital.
Munro: David Munro.
[They shake hands then turn back towards the window.]
What’s going on down there?
Spital: [Points] That boat’s letting out a net – nearly half a mile long when it’s all out; and those people on the beach’ll pull it back to the shore, when they’ve trapped the fish within it.
Munro: Does everyone help?
Spital: All those that’re able.
Munro: Was that young lady [gestures to where Edith was sitting] with child?
Spital: Ay, there’ll be no rest for her ‘till her labours begin. They’d have me down there with them if it wasn’t for this. [Touches her leg].
Munro: Extraordinary!
Spital: ‘Tis that sort of village. There’s none too precious to help, and none too proud to take the help of his neighbours when it’s needed.
Munro: Do they make a good living from the sea?
Spital: They get by. [Walks back towards the bookcase] ‘Twas the sea that paid for this room and everything in it. [flicking along the bookcase, randomly pulling out and replacing books] Karl Marx, William Shakespeare, Percy Bysshe Shelley, who went to a watery grave, I believe.
Munro: Hmm. Are all the fishermen so educated, to read such books?
Spital: [Laughs] There’s some who couldn’t read a word if their life depended on it! No, there’s only a few – and one in particular who spends his every spare hour in here.
Munro: Who’s that?
Spital: Young Tom Wills who was sitting there when you arrived. [Points] If you see the lamps burning here at midnight, the chances are it’ll be Tom.
Munro: And your good self? You have not the air of a fisherman’s wife.
Spital: I thank God I was not! There’s some of them would stop a woman using this room were it not for the contributions I have made to it. I am obliged to remind them from time to time that a woman may be more of a property-owner than any of them.
Munro: I see. And which of the properties of Hallsands do you own?
Spital: You ask a lot of questions, Sir.
Munro: A habit which afflicts my profession, I am afraid.
Spital: And pray, which profession is that?
Munro: [Smiles then turns to window] It seems my visit may be premature. Is there anywhere for a gentleman to eat in the village?
Spital: My establishment, Sir, is always pleased to welcome a gentleman. The locals do not embrace change readily, so we serve only simple fare, but I trust you will find it to your satisfaction.
Munro: [Smiling, moving towards her] So you are the owner of the London Inn?
Spital: I might admit as much if you will repay my honesty. So what brings you to Hallsands?
Munro: I will try your simple fare, Madam, and if I find it to my satisfaction, I may tell you more.
He takes her arm and they exit Right.
George Wills, Tom Wills and Jim Trout are sitting in one corner in animated discussion. Faint noises of dredging appear and fade throughout this scene.
Jim: ‘Tis an outrage!
Enter Mrs Spital right
George: I’m sorry Mrs Spital, this yer’s men’s business.
Spital: If you’re discussing what we see down there [Gestures towards the window] then that concerns every owner of property in this village. [Sits down slightly apart from the others, folds her arms and stares at George Wills]
George: Question is…
Enter Munro Right. All turn
to look at him in silence.
And who be you, Sir?
Munro: David Munro, reporter for the Western Morning News.
George: What be yer business ‘ere?
Munro: I er…should like to interview one or two of you, when you have finished your deliberations. [Sits down next to Mrs Spital]
George: Were ‘ee ‘ware of this? [Gestures towards the window]
Munro: My editor informed me yesterday and suggested I come to see you.
Jim: Him’s part o’ this! [Stands up, menacing Munro] Get out of ‘ere!
Spital: [Intervening] Use your head before your fist Jim Trout! I see a long fight ahead of us and we may have need of this man and his paper.
For a moment no one moves, then Jim returns to his seat. Munro takes out his notepad and pen.
George: If ‘ee want to stay ee’d better tell us what ‘ee know of this yer affair.
Munro: Only that the Board of Trade has granted a licence to dredge for shingle along the coast, between here and Beesands
George: A licence – who to?
Munro: A company named Sir John Jackson Limited.
George: And who be this John Jackson?
Munro: An eminent engineer. His company has the contract to extend the dockyard at Devonport…and I er…understand the man himself has certain connections with the Conservative Party.
Tom: I knew it – a cap’list conspiracy!
George: Hold your tongue boy – this is no time for your radical nonsense!
Jim: ‘Alf my pots are ‘ready destroyed. There’ll be no crab nor lobster to the bay by the time them’s done!
George: Yes. If this yer Jackson is stappin’ our fishin’ then er must be made to pay!
Spital: I believe we are facing a threat more serious than any interference with fishing.
George: Fishin’ is the life o’ this village Mrs Spital. There’s nort more serious than that!
Spital: [Stands and walks towards the window.] Look! [The others watch her for a moment, then follow. She points diagonally Left at the dredgers] They are sucking the very beach itself. If that continues, there won’t be a building in Hallsands safe from the sea.
Tom: She’s right father.
George: I shall write to Colonel Mildmay. If they be tellin’ the truth there’s nort but the Government can stop ‘em.
Tom: Would you like some help drafting the letter, father?
George: Yes, thank ‘ee Tom. [Standing straighter] Now, if yee’ll all leave me a moment wi’ this gen’lman.
[Looks at the others who hesitate, then exit Right]
You Irish or summat?
Munro: [Exaggerating his accent] Auch! My father’d turn in his grave in the glens to hear you say that! [George looks blankly] No – Scottish! [Smiles, then takes his notepad] So what do you think of this dredging, Mr Wills?
George: I been fishin’ ‘ere for purt nare fifty year.
Munro: Really?
George: There’s nothin’ ‘appens in this village, in this bay wi’out my sayin’ so. N’you can put this in your paper, Mr Scottish reporter – if this yer Jackson thinks ‘im can do this wi’out…[pauses as if searching for a word], then ‘im’s gonna pay for it!
The lighting is low and slightly yellow, with an oil lamp burning on the wall above Tom Wills, who is alone, reading intently. He does not notice Edith Wills entering right, until she speaks
Edith: ‘Tis gone midnight. If I didn’t know ‘ee better Tom Wills, I’d think ‘ee were avoidin’ me.
Tom: [Looks up, a little dazed, then smiles]
‘True love in this differs from gold and clay
That to divide is not to take away’
[Putting the book down, still open, he stretches his hand towards her. She smiles and sits on his lap]
Careful!
Edith: D’ee not want my great weight on ‘ee now then?
He does not answer but tickles her gently, leans forward and kisses her. As he pulls away, she wobbles, giggling.
Tom: You know it’s not you I’m avoiding. Has he gone to bed yet?
Edith: Er were just about to. [Touching his face, playfully] ‘Ee’ll ruin your eyesight squintin’ at they books all night!
Tom: [Rocking her] Ay, I’ll need them lit’l glasses like the vicar wears, n’ I won’t be able to fish…and I’ll only be fit for work as an office clerk…. [He lifts her head and kisses her] or a professor
Edith: There b’aint much call for professors in Hallsands!
Tom: I know that. [They say nothing for a while, until he lays his hand on her belly] How are you now? Both of you?
Edith: [Forcing a smile] Better. I’m feelin’ better now.
Tom: I wonder sometimes what we’re bringin’ a child into… three of us in that room.
Edith: It’s nort worse than others ‘ave to, n’ anyway ‘twont be for ever. You know what yer Da’ said.
Tom: Hmm.
Edith: Am I squashing you?
Tom: No…just my knee.
She moves onto the chair beside him.
Edith: You should try to talk to ‘ee more, you know.
Tom: A waste o’ words on them as aren’t listening. I wish I could do more, Edie, for you, for the baby.
Edith: You’re doin’ everythin’ you can. [Taking him by the shoulders]. I’m proud of you, Tom Wills.
Tom: More than I can say for myself.
Edith: Now stop that! [She takes the book, closes it deliberately and puts it on the table] Come to bed. [She stands up. Slowly he follows, begins to stretch his arms as she kisses him passionately, then leads him to exit Right]
Munro: [Writes briefly, then lifts paper to read] On May 13th 1897, Frank Mildmay, M.P. for Totnes addressed the President of the Board of Trade in the House of Commons, with a question about the dredging in Start Bay. Would he hold a local inquiry upon the allegations of damage to fishermen’s cottages and to the fishing industry? And would he in the meantime, prevent further action of the kind?
Official: We have briefed the President, who will respond as follows [reads]
“I will communicate with the Commissioners and cause inquiry to be made as to the likelihood of damage being caused by the removal of sand.”
We see no grounds for suspending the licence in the meantime.
The reading room is arranged in an open horseshoe of three tables. The Inspector is sitting in the Centre with the Official beside him, taking notes. Brooks and Munro are sitting on the left side table, George Wills, Jim Trout, Tom Wills and Mrs Spital on the right (in that order with George nearest the Inspector). There are spare chairs behind the four villagers.
Inspector: Before we begin gentlemen, would each of you please state your name and your interest in this inquiry.
Brooks: Mr Brooks, representing Sir John Jackson Limited.
Munro: David Munro, reporter.
George: George Wills. I been fishin’ this yer bay for fifty year, and there b’aint nothing going down ‘ere an’ I ant…
Inspector: Thank you Mr Wills!
Jim: Jim Trout, fisherman.
Tom: Tom Wills, fisherman.
Spital: Mrs…
Inspector: Thank you gentlemen.
Now, according to the information before me [lifts a paper], the licence issued by the Board extends along the coast from the Northern limit of Hallsands, to the Southern limit of Beesands. The adjoining land is owned by a Mr Cole of Kellaton [murmurs of disapproval from the villagers] whose permission has been obtained.
George: Ay, an ‘ow much ‘as ‘im been paid for that?
Inspector: Pray silence Mr Wills. You will be given an opportunity to speak shortly. The licence may be revoked with three months’ notice, or immediately in case of interference with navigation or damage to the foreshore defences. Are there grounds for believing that either of these ills are likely to afflict this particular shoreline? That is the essential question I am here to consider. Perhaps Mr Wills, you would care to begin.
George: [Standing] Sir, I been fishin’ this coast now for purt nare fifty year. [Tom and Mrs Spital show signs of exasperation] There b’aint nort goin’ down ‘ere I ant seed nor ‘eard, an’ never in they fifty year ‘ave I seed nort like I see in the Bay now. Last year, the fishermen of this village caught fish to the Bay: that’s mackerel, mullet n’ more besides, worth ‘round hunderd n’ fifty pound. N’ that’s not talking o’ the crabs and lobsters (my friend James Trout’ll tell ‘ee more ‘bout they). Now since this yer dredgin’ started, with all the noise, n’ the state of the water’s been frightenin’ all the fish out the Bay. An’ if that weren’t bad ‘nough, there’s all they rocks them’s spreading crass the sea bed, tearin’ our seine nets to pieces!
The villagers applaud.
Inspector: Please, this is an official inquiry! Mr Wills, is that the main source of your objection – the interference to fishing?
George: Yes Sir, fishin’ is the life of this yer village n’ there’s nort more important than that.
He sits down to congratulations from Jim. Mrs Spital looks discontented.
Inspector: Thank you Mr Wills. Mr Trout, do you have anything to add?
Jim: [Standing, hesitant at first] Thank ‘ee Sir. Sir, though I ant been fishin’ as long as Mr Wills yere, I still bin a potter for neast forty year.
Inspector: Sorry Mr Trout, did I hear you correctly, describing yourself as a ‘potter’?
Brooks: Perhaps I can explain Sir. The term is a local colloquialism for one who fishes for crabs and lobsters with the use of pots.
Inspector: Thank you Mr Brooks. Is that correct, Mr Trout?
Jim: Er…yeah… that’s right…an’, an’ every one of they pots takes hundreds o’ withies to make. N’ not jest any withies: mailey tops for the long rods, black maul for the weavin’. Every one takes hours o’ work, jest to get frigged by they dredgers! I’ve lost nare thirty pots since them started. This yer carries on, us’ll all be paupers to the workhouse by the winter!
Inspector: Thank you Mr Trout, we must ensure that is not allowed to happen. Is that all you have to say?
Jim: Yes Sir. Thank ‘ee.
Inspector: Now, erm, Mr Wills Junior is it?
Tom: Yes Sir.
Inspector: Do you have anything to add to your father’s er, most eloquent contribution?
Tom: No Sir.
Inspector: Thank you gentlemen.
Spital: Sir?
Inspector: [Deliberately ignoring her] Mr Brooks?
Brooks: I should like to begin by reaffirming, if I may, the importance of the contract on which our company is engaged. At a time when our nation’s supremacy on the high seas is under threat, the need to expand our naval dockyards has never been greater – indeed it would be no exaggeration to say, the security of every home in the realm depends upon it.
[Mrs Spital makes her way to sit behind George, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.]
The size of the undertaking at Devonport, and the need for economy in our public works has led the Board to grant the licence for which, I should point out, Sir John has agreed to pay the sum of fifty pounds a year.
Inspector: Mr Brooks, can you tell us, how much sand and shingle do you anticipate your company will need, and how long do you envisage your operations lasting?
Brooks: Sir, it would be difficult to estimate with any confidence at this moment, but we do expect our dredging to continue for at least…two to three years.
Murmurs of discontent from the villagers.
Inspector: And have you explored other options for obtaining this material elsewhere?
Brooks: Yes Sir, we did in the first instance approach the Corporation of Exeter for permission to dredge in the Exe Estuary, and although the Corporation was favourable, we were unable to reach agreement with the principal landowner, the Honorable Mark Rolle.
Inspector: And what were the nature of Mr Rolle’s objections?
Brooks: He was erm…concerned about possible damage to the foreshore at Exmouth.
Inspector: I see. And how would you respond to the comments of the fishermen concerning the interference with their trade?
Brooks: Sir, we are anxious to address their concerns as far as we are able. I have discussed this matter with Sir John, and he would be willing to allow the dredging to stop when we are given notice of fish in the Bay.
Inspector: Mr Wills, would such an arrangement be agreeable to you and your colleagues?
George: Sir, it been said to me that it ant just the damage to fishin’ to be veared from this yer dredgin’. This yer beach, I knowed for sixty year, b’aint like they other beaches. It’s a beach o’ shiftin’ sands. N’ what with the kays built on sand, an’ ‘ouses on top on that, us’re veared that our ‘omes could fall into the sea!
Inspector: Yes, the question of damage to the foreshore. How would you respond to that, Mr Brooks?
Brooks: Sir, in anticipation of these concerns, we have commissioned a report from a Dr Kyle of the Laboratory in Plymouth. I have a copy for you here Sir [hands a document to Inspector and reads from another copy]. If I could briefly quote from its principal conclusion: “The changes produced on the configuration of the sea bed are infinitesimally small in comparison with the great and constant changes wrought by the action of the sea.”
[Tom leans across Jim to whisper something to George]
In essence Sir, whatever trifling quantities are removed by dredging, the action of the sea will soon replace it.
George: Sir, could us ‘ave a copy o’ that paper?
Inspector: I am sure that can be arranged [passes the document to the Official]. Now, how would you respond to what Mr Brooks has just read?
George: Sir, what Sir John Jackson takes down to Plymouth, won’t never come back!
Tom is alone under the lamp, attempting to read but finding it difficult to concentrate. Edith enters Right, moving slowly as though in a trance, and sits down beside Tom. She is no longer pregnant.
Tom: Can’t you sleep neither?
Edith: I were lyin’ there, listenin’ to the waves, neither wake nor sleepin’, n’ then it were like…the walls were all gone n’ I were in the sea. It were peaceful at fust, just floatin’ there, till the wind started to blow, n’ the waves were climbin’ over my ‘ead. Then I seed ‘im, lyin’ there on a pot or a pace o’ wood. Every time er came up on top ‘o the wave, er stretched out ‘is lill ‘and to me, an’ I tried to reach ‘im, but it were blowin’ a gale o’ wind, an’ I couldn’t reach ‘im…I were tryin’ n’ I cudn’t…I just couldn’t reach him!
She lowers her head onto Tom’s lap, sobbing. For a while, he strokes her, saying nothing.
Tom: “Peace! Peace! He is not dead, he doth not sleep –
‘Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife”
Edith; Be I goin’ maized, Tom?
Tom: No maid, ‘tis only to be expected.
Edith: I got this feelin’ like…like everything’s empty, everything’s gone n’ nothing matters any more. I were lyin’ there lookin’ at the room, n’ the spickety ol’ curtains, like I’d never noticed how ugly it all were.
Tom: You won’t have to look at it for much longer, I promise.
Edith: D’ee think yer Da’ll still be givin’ us the other house? Er might think us’ll not need it now.
Tom: Oh we need it, sure enough. We need it more than ever.
Edith: Ee’ll talk to ‘im, then?
Tom: Yes…yes I’ll talk to him.
Edith: I were lookin’ at the lill clothes n’ toys we bin given, like I suppose I should gi’ ‘em all away now.
Tom: No, don’t do that – keep them for now. When we get our own house you can put them all in the other bedroom. Keep it ready; and when your strength returns, we’ll try again…if that’s what you want?
Edith: [Hesitates, blows her nose, then nods] Yes…‘tis wha’ I want.
He hugs her as lights fade.
George: ‘Scuse me Mrs Spital, could ‘ee leave me a moment with this gen’lman?
Mrs Spital stands, hobbles towards the door, then turns and looks at Brooks with contempt
Spital: I know a gentleman when I see one, Mr Wills.
Exit right.
Brooks: What a disagreeable woman!
George: Ah, don’t ‘ee worry yourself about ‘er. What was it ‘ee wanted to say to me?
Brooks wanders around the room, occasionally browsing the bookcases throughout this exchange
Brooks: Quite an impressive collection you have here.
George: Ay, for them as like that sort o’ thing.
Brooks: And what sort of thing do you like, Mr Wills?
George: How d’ee mean?
Brooks: I was impressed with your performance at the public inquiry. You are evidently held in high regard here.
George: I been fishin’ this yer bay ‘fore some o’ them young lads were lill tackers – ‘tis only right them show some respect.
Brooks: Quite so. As I was listening to what you had to say, I thought: there is a man we could do business with.
George: Business – what’d I want with yer dredgin’ business?
Brooks: You misunderstand me. Look, as I tried to explain at the inquiry, Sir John is…
George: Why don’ er come ‘ere isself?
Brooks: Sir John is a very busy man. But rest assured, I come with his full authority. Believe me, Sir John is anxious to address the concerns of your fishermen. I am sure with goodwill on both sides, we may arrive at a fair agreement.
George: What sort o’ ‘greement?
Brooks: Well, if we were to offer, say, a hundred pounds a year for loss of fishing revenue?
George: They fish ‘m worth more n’ that.
Brooks: I don’t doubt that, but, come, the dredging may interfere with your trade but it will hardly prevent it altogether.
George: Hunderd n’ fifty.
Brooks: [Half suppressing a smile] A hundred and twenty-five is the most I am authorised to offer.
George: An’ there be the pots us’m losin’
Brooks: I am sure we can find a way of replacing those. In the years I have worked for Sir John I have noticed how those who accept his generosity, will often find he exceeds their expectations.
George: What ‘bout them as say their ‘omes ‘ll fall into the sea?
Brooks: You have read Dr Kyle’s report?
George: Yes, of course.
Brooks: Then you will know there is really no basis for such concerns, but in a spirit of cooperation, Sir John is willing to give a commitment, in writing, to repair any damage caused by the dredging for up to six months following our departure from these shores. A fair offer, is it not?
George: Hmm.
Brooks: A good neighbour – that is how Sir John would like his company to be viewed. In fact, we are seeking to appoint a local representative to manage our relations with the people of Hallsands. He asked me whether I could recommend anyone within the village, and naturally I thought of you.
[Looks at George who stares at him implacably]
A salary of a pound a week?
George’s face betrays surprise.
George: If th’ Inspector stops yer dredgin’ ‘ee’ll not be needin’ any ‘representative’.
Brooks: Forgive me, I was forgetting, you won’t have heard the outcome yet.
George: What’s that?
Brooks: The Inspector has found essentially in the Company’s favour. The dredging will be allowed to continue, subject to certain conditions, which should alleviate some of your concerns.
George: Damn ‘ee!
Brooks: A reasonable compromise – is that not the English way?
[Walks over to George and touches him on the shoulder. George pushes him away.]
Think about it Mr Wills. It seems for better or for worse we are to be neighbours for a few years yet.
[Moves towards the exit, then turns]
Oh, I nearly forgot, we are looking for accommodation in the area. A house in the village itself, ideally. If you hear of any becoming available for rent, perhaps you would let me know? You will find Sir John as generous a tenant as he is an employer. Good day to you Mr Wills.
Exit.
Tom is alone under the lamp, reading. Enter George right. Tom’s Devon accent is more evident in this scene.
George: I might o’ known I’d find ‘ee wastin’ your time ‘ere.
Tom: Time spent learning is never wasted, father.
George: Don’t ‘ee chake me like that boy! I did more ‘n anyone to set this place up. There b’aint nothin’ in this village these fifty year I b’aint been ‘volved in.
Tom: I know that, father [picks up a book]. D’you remember the first books you ever gave me?
George: Ay.
Tom: ‘Robinson Crusoe’, ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ – difficult reading for a lit’l tacker, but, well…[puts the book down] And then the first time you brought me in here, I felt sort of…privileged and I…I s’pose what I’m trying to say to you…
Tom looks at George for a sign of response. George momentarily returns his gaze, then looks away.
George: This yer’s gotta stop. The state of ‘ee this morning, boy. ‘Ee was purt nare sleepin’ in the boat!
Tom: I was a bit tired, that’s all.
George: Ay, n’ why were that?
Tom: All right, I admit I was reading till late. Look [gesturing with exasperation] we may be living in a forgotten village that’s crumbling into the sea…
George: Ah, you shouldn’t go b’lievin’ ort that ol’ witch tells ‘ee.
Tom: [Goes to say something, then hesitates] A man can put up with almost anything [picks up a book] as long as he has hope. And that’s what I find in here…sometimes…
George: It’s that’s witch who giv’d ‘ee all they ideas ‘bove your station, ant it?
Tom: When the train leaves my station, I intend to be on it.
George: I weren’t talkin’ ‘bout no train boy.
Tom: Father, this may not be the best time, but I’ve been meaning to ask you something – ‘bout the house.
George: What ‘bout it?
Tom: I know you said we could move into it when the child was born…
George: That’s what I said.
Tom: Well, I was hoping…
George: Hopin’ what?
Tom: Would it still be possible?
George: You ‘spect it all, don’t ee? I tell ‘ee, your Ma and me were married seven year ‘fore we moved into our own ‘ouse.
Tom: Father, I am not asking for a gift. I will pay you the rent you would expect to receive.
George: [Averts his eyes] Well, it b’aint ready yet. You’ll ‘ave to bide where yu’m to for now.
They look at each other with restrained hostility, then George exits
right.
The Official is sitting at the desk right. Munro is sitting at the desk, left.
Munro: We all forgot about Hallsands for a while, and then, four years later stories began to reach our office, and they sent me back to investigate. I talked to a few of the