Transcript - Season 2,  Chapter 9

NANA GLASS’S HOUSE - BEDROOM

 

CARPENTER, slowly, stirs in her sleep.

 

Silence.

 

All around her, we can hear the creaking of the CABIN.

 

THE HOMESICK CORPSE:

(Muffled)

Please. Please. I need to get home-

 

CARPENTER:

(Sleepily)

Shut it or I’ll plug it.

 

Silence.

 

Then, suddenly-

 

ELIZA:

(Crying out, muffled)

Help me! Please!

 

Is anyone there? Is anyone there?

 

The bedsprings creak again as CARPENTER gets to her feet.

 

CARPENTER:

(Stunned)

Eliza?

 

She pushes the door open and quietly pads through the house.

 

CARPENTER:

(To herself)

Why’s it so dark-

 

We hear the faint sound of BROTHER WHARFING’s voice from the shadows.

 

BROTHER WHARFING:

(Muffled, distant)

Follow me, pilgrim-

 

CARPENTER:

(Calling)

Brother Wharfing?

 

We hear the voice of ACANTHA next-

 

ACANTHA:

I have a proposition for you, Carpenter-

 

CARPENTER:

(Bewildered)

Acantha? 

 

She strides forward.

 

The voices die down. 

 

Silence. 

 

And then we hear-

 

NANA GLASS:

(Calling from the kitchen, muffled)

Did you call for me, Mallory?

 

CARPENTER stands there in absolute shock. 

 

She recognises the voice.

 

CARPENTER:

(Feebly)

Nana?

 

NANA GLASS:

(Calling from the kitchen)

If you see Em, tell him dinner’s almost done. 

 

And he mustn’t forget to take the boy in the cellar out back before it gets dark, either.

 

Silence.

 

NANA GLASS:

(Calling)

Did you hear me, Mallory?

 

CARPENTER:

(Softly)

Absolutely impossible.

 

We hear her feet on the floorboards as she creaks forwards.

 

NANA GLASS:

(Calling)

The door’s been sticking lately.

 

Give it a good push.

 

The door creaks open.

 

KITCHEN, INT, NIGHT

 

Nana Glass is humming softly to herself as she clatters about on the stove. Some light, old-fashioned jazz music is playing.

 

CARPENTER stands there and watches her in stunned silence. She’s dumbstruck and horrified.

 

NANA GLASS, apparently oblivious, continues to prepare dinner.

 

NANA GLASS:

Lay the table. We’re almost there.

 

CARPENTER whispers softly, to herself.

 

CARPENTER:

No.

 

No, this isn’t right.

 

NANA GLASS:

If it doesn’t rain tomorrow, we can get started on repainting the coracle. What do you think?

 

CARPENTER:

(With growing anger and confidence)

You’re not standing there, Nana. 

 

I’m not taken in by this, this…whatever it is.

 

You hear me?

 

NANA GLASS:

We’ll have enough for leftovers tomorrow, I reckon.

 

CARPENTER:

You’re dead, Nana. You’re dead, and faceless, and rotten. You’ve been that way for decades.

 

There’s no way for you to ever come back to me.

 

This is dream or it’s delusion - and I’m confident in that, no matter how real all of this looks.

 

NANA GLASS:

(Oblivious)

Would you like to say grace, Mallory?

 

CARPENTER:

You know how I can be so sure of myself, Nana?

 

Because I know I’ve lived this night already.

 

I remember every word in the routine. I know when this performance is supposed to be set.

 

It’s the worst night, the most shameful night of my life. 

 

The night that makes my nails curl tightly into my palms at night when I’m staring up at the stars and I think of it.

(Violently)

Do you hear me?

 

Silence. And then NANA GLASS continues, as if CARPENTER hasn’t spoken.

 

NANA GLASS:

You’re very quiet, girl. Everything all right?

 

CARPENTER:

This is the night when you turned from the sink, and you said to me, like it was nothing-

 

NANA GLASS:

(Calmly)

It’s getting dark. Damn Em, he knows he mustn’t be out this late.

 

You’ll have to do his work for him, Mallory. You’re old enough now - yes, it’s about time.

 

Unlock the cellar. Take that boy by the halter and lead him down to the garden. 

 

Make him ready for the angels to come.

 

And see that he’s tethered properly, too. 

 

Lose him, and I’ll make you chase him down yourself.

 

CARPENTER:

You turned your back on me, and you went on with the washing up.

 

And I summoned up every ounce of my courage, I licked my lips, and I told you…

 

…no.

 

No, I didn’t want to do it.

 

The radio clicks off.

 

And a moment later, NANA GLASS stops washing up.

 

NANA GLASS:

(As if reacting to something CARPENTER’s said)

What do you mean, you don’t want to?

 

CARPENTER:

You weren’t angry. Not yet.

 

But I could feel the first ripples of your anger, coming on.

 

I told you I felt sorry for the boy who was sobbing in our cellar, the boy who’d just come out here to deliver leaflets from door to door.

 

I hated hearing him cry - the sound drifting up through the floorboards. Impossible to ignore, impossible to shut out.

 

I said it wasn’t fair that I should have to take him out into the garden.

 

I was too young, and Em was taller than me, and stronger, and I’d done my household chores for the day already - and besides, we’d sacrificed another girl down by the water just last month.

 

NANA GLASS sighs as she turns off the tap and squeezes out a sponge.

 

NANA GLASS:

(Quoting)

“A coward comes prepared with the soundest arguments. Courageous souls need none at all.”

 

CARPENTER:

I wasn’t a coward, I told you, I wasn’t afraid. 

 

I just didn’t want to take that boy down to the sacrificial post at the bottom of the garden tonight.

 

Another night. Another time. But not tonight, I begged you.

 

Not tonight.

 

NANA GLASS strides forward towards CARPENTER.

 

NANA GLASS:

(Sourly, as if responding to a child)

And why not?

 

CARPENTER:

I don’t even remember what I stammered out to you.

 

I wasn’t articulate, back then. I’ve never been articulate, but back then I was worse.

 

But you understood what I was thinking. You knew me like nobody else. 

 

How I hated you for that.

 

NANA GLASS walks forward to the table and begins to scrub it.

 

NANA GLASS:

(As if giving a lecture - sympathetically)

If we want our god to hear us, this is the method. It’s the only method - it’s the way that’s always been.

 

It isn’t a pleasant duty, it isn’t something we should take joy in, but it’s a part of life.

 

The boy’s to be given tonight. And you’re the one who’s to do it.

(Sternly)

Do you think you’re above this, Mallory?

 

CARPENTER:

I did. 

 

I told you I didn’t.

 

NANA GLASS returns to the sink.

 

NANA GLASS:

(Growing stern and increasingly angry)

You think you can live rich and well and bountiful on crab and fish without making a single offering to the water in return? 

 

Do you think you can live in ingratitude, and not suffer the consequences of that?

 

Or would you prefer to keep yourself apart from the god of your people, and pat yourself on the back for being kindly, and starve to death alone in the wilds with only your kindness for company?

 

You’re an organ in the working body of this world, Mallory Glass. 

 

No amount of scornful looks and sour remarks is going to change that.

 

You’re no better than what’s come before, and you’re no better than what’s coming after. 

 

So - you will participate.

 

CARPENTER:

(Still half to herself)

In that moment, Nana, I hated you so much I wanted to kill you tonight myself.

 

And the days and nights to come, they stoked my hatred, and I dreamt of killing you over and over again.

 

Grabbing you by the collar. Fixing you to the sacrificial leash.

 

Dragging you to the very end of the watery garden and tethering you there amongst the dead and eaten boys and girls, in the same place where you’d left Em and I to drown.

 

Leaving you there, no matter how you begged or pleaded, and returning to the cabin where we’d dance and laugh and play in the golden light.

 

But I was afraid of you, too, and I loved you all at once - and besides, it was the last spring.

 

Four months later, they came and they killed you for me.

 

And they took me away from this place, and then I grew to hate them even more.

 

NANA GLASS:

(More firmly)

Stop crying. 

 

Down to the cellar. Now, Mallory. It’s time.

 

CARPENTER stares at NANA GLASS.

 

And she hardens.

 

CARPENTER:

(Firmly, but trying to convince herself)

I went to sleep last night amongst the hills, underneath the stars.

 

A secluded place, a heaped accumulation of old stones where I could shelter from the rain and the wind - a natural formation, I thought, but perhaps it was a dolmen or something worse. 

 

It should be dawn by now.

 

I’m not back in this cabin, and you aren’t here, and I’m not living through this night again.

 

This is a trick. Nothing but a trick, and a lousy, unsubtle kind of trick at that.

 

I’ve stumbled into the haunt of some stray scavenging god, some frail and feeble thing stealing into my mind from the outside, and now you’re trying to trap me here.

 

I went to sleep in the wrong place, that’s all. Just bad luck.

 

Do you hear that? 

 

I’ve figured you out. You haven’t fooled me, you haven’t trapped me here. It took me a heartbeat to see through what you were trying to do to me.

 

You’ve failed. I’m leaving.

 

She turns. We hear her fumbling with the door.

 

The creaking of the CABIN begins to rise as CARPENTER takes a step back, then runs at the door-

 

NANA GLASS:

(Calling from the other side of the door)

The door’s been sticking lately. Give it a good push.

 

KITCHEN, INT, NIGHT

​

The door bursts open.

 

And CARPENTER stumbles through - back into the kitchen. The loop has begun again.

 

NANA GLASS:

Lay the table. We’re almost there.

 

CARPENTER:

(To herself, in astonishment)

Fuck off.

 

NANA GLASS:

If it doesn’t rain tomorrow, we can get started on repainting the coracle. What do you think?

 

CARPENTER:

(To herself)

All right, that’s fine. There’s a way out of this, no matter what.

 

It’ll have left its marks somewhere, there’ll be signs to follow.

(Searching)

Nothing on the walls. 

 

Maybe on the floor-

 

She begins to scrabble about, tossing objects off the shelves as she searches for the prayer-marks.

 

NANA GLASS continues her routine.

 

NANA GLASS:

We’ll have enough for leftovers tomorrow. 

 

Would you like to say grace, Mallory?

 

CARPENTER continues to throw things.

 

NANA GLASS:

You’re very quiet, girl. Everything all right?

 

CARPENTER:

(Calmly and coldly)

Whatever you are - you need to understand that I won’t put up with this. I won’t submit. 

 

I won’t rest until I’ve found my way out of this, and I’ve torn you to pieces.

 

NANA GLASS:

(Oblivious)

It’s getting dark. Damn Em, he knows he mustn’t be out this late.

 

You’ll have to do his work for him.

 

Unlock the cellar. Take that boy by the halter and lead him down to the garden-

 

CARPENTER:

(Coldly furious)

How dare you take this shape. How dare you choose this night, the worst night, the most shameful night.

 

If you want to speak to me, do it with your own face and your own tongue.

 

NANA GLASS ignores her, continuing to wash up.

 

CARPENTER:

(Yelling)

Speak!

 

NANA GLASS falls silent for a moment.

 

Then she says, just as calmly, with an odd inhuman echo in her voice,

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (NANA GLASS):

But you can’t actually be certain about tonight, can you?

 

You find it difficult to keep the facts straight in your head.

 

You can’t even be sure, as you stand in your nana’s kitchen again, that this was the worst night of your life, the most shameful night, the night that makes you coil your fists and wince as you remember it.

 

Perhaps it was the night after.

 

When Em finally came back home - looking stoned or hungover, refusing to answer any of Nana’s questions about where he’d been - and as he sat and painted the coracle as punishment, you danced around him in the silt and you boasted to him about what you’d done while he was away.

 

You pretended you were proud to have participated, proud to have helped your Nana.

 

You scornfully acted out the soft, desperate cries of the boy that you’d left tethered out by the water. 

 

You boldly bragged that you intended to carry out the next sacrifice yourself as well, as he’d been doing it for far too long and you were owed a proper turn.

 

And Em looked at you like…what was that look he gave you?

 

Because it wasn’t pride, like you were hoping for.

 

It was something else.

(Thoughtfully)

How many worst nights of your life have there been, Mallory?

 

How many nights does it hurt to remember?

 

CARPENTER stares at her, long and hard.

 

CARPENTER:

If I go to the cellar, if I play this out, will you let me go?

 

NANA GLASS continues to wash up, ignoring her.

 

CARPENTER:

(Giving up)

Fine, I’ll go. I understand the game, I see how this works.

 

OK, I’ll go to the cellar. Let’s see this through.

 

She gets to her feet and goes.

 

CELLAR, INT, NIGHT

 

We hear the cellar door creak open. The sound of a pull-light being turned on. A bulb humming into life.

 

CARPENTER sighs - and begins to descend. Her feet creak on the boards of the steps.

 

And we hear an unexpected voice.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

(Narrating, calmly)

The steps are as high and wide as you remember. 

 

The cellar is as dark as you remember.

 

It’s like you never grew up at all.

 

CARPENTER recognises the voice.

 

CARPENTER:

(Weakly)

No. 

 

Come on, now. That isn’t fair, you can’t be here-

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

Nana kept her fishing nets down here, and her copy of The Silt Verses, and her altar with the sodden candles that could not be lit.

 

And three tall cages, with hooks upon the walls to secure the catches.

 

This place frightened you. It always frightened you.

 

You never felt at home down here. It seemed less like a true part of the cabin and more of a distinct place, a haunted place, that had crept into the shadows underneath your rooms without permission and taken up residence there.

 

You always felt like you were walking down those steps to meet with a monster that dwelt in the black below.

 

But there was never anything like that down here, was there? Only…

 

We hear a faint whimpering from somewhere below. The BOY is down here.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

Only a boy in a filthy and torn postman’s uniform, mewling in the darkness, with sack-cloth tied over his head - perhaps even the same sack-cloth she’d made you wear when you first arrived at this place and she tried to offer you to your god. 

 

Because your Nana was prudent; saved everything, threw away nothing.

 

And you, who cared about fairness above all else, you understood at once that the grace that had been shown to you should be shown to this boy in turn…

 

CARPENTER:

(Getting furious)

You’re not here.

 

She swings the cage door open.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

The boy is indistinct beneath his sack-cloth.

 

Nana and Em caught him in the night while you were still sleeping.

 

You’ll never see his face while he’s alive.

 

You’ll see his face later on, when Nana pulls the sack-cloth off.

 

You’ll gaze at his swollen and crab-bitten flesh, hating yourself and ashamed of yourself, drinking in every detail. 

 

The cheeks, engorged with river-water and pocked with holes. 

 

A rough and clumsy miracle, to be sure, but enough solid work has been carried out here by the angels of the tide for Nana to nod begrudgingly, pat you on the shoulder, and commend you for a job well done.

 

His face isn’t the only one you remember, is it?

 

CARPENTER:

No, it isn’t.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

That young couple, the ones you lured to the abandoned temple-house on the river-road. Mason waiting patiently from the shadows to see that you followed through. 

 

They were the ones that came next.

 

We hear running footsteps and laughter-

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

They saw you as a friend, until that last awful moment when they couldn’t any longer.

 

-and awful screams as someone is drowned beneath the water.

 

CARPENTER:

(Horrified)

I swear, I’ll end you for this-

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

And my face. You won’t ever forget my face, will you, Mallory?

 

We hear the gunshot from Chapter 4 - HELEN’s death.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

I was still pleading with you when you blew it to pieces. Flesh and fragments.

 

Last night, when you went to sleep in the shadow of the stones, you were thinking -

 

CARPENTER:

…I was thinking Nana’s face must have looked the same.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

And shame rose in you like the tide.

 

CARPENTER hauls the chain down from its pulley.

 

CARPENTER:

(Through gritted teeth)

You’re not real. This is a performance, nothing more.

 

So let’s get this over with, and maybe you’ll be satisfied.

 

The clank as she lifts the chain.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

(Vaguely)

‘Let’s get this over with’. 

 

Yes, that’s what you kept whispering to yourself, as you stood there before the whimpering boy and you tried to work up the courage.

 

“Let’s get this over with. And once it’s over, you’ll have made it past the initial fear and past the initial doubt, and every time you do this from now on will be so much easier.”

 

No more delays, no more convincing yourself.

 

You had to act.

 

You reached for the hook upon the wall. You took the boy’s chain in your hands, and it jangled like bells at a summoning.

 

CARPENTER hesitates - then she takes the chain and hauls the BOY forward. He whimpers pitifully.

 

CARPENTER:

Are you a god? I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to a god, not really, not truly.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

What sort of creature did you honestly think you were going to become, once it was over?

 

Did you really think life was going to be easier for you from that moment on?

 

CARPENTER:

Not a god, then. Maybe something else.

 

Maybe you’re a saint, maybe you’re something created, some haggard, horrid thing of old regrets and self-loathing and self-disgust. 

 

Roaming the wilds, looking for prey.

 

Were you human once?

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

(Retorting)

Were you?

 

A long silence.

 

Then CARPENTER begins to climb the stairs.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

When you do remember tonight - in the long sleepless nights of your life that’s to come - sometimes you try and drive it from your head by reassuring yourself that things could have gone very differently.

 

You wanted to defy your Nana - you could have defied her.

 

You could have set the boy loose. You could have set the cabin aflame, and fled. Em could have returned home early and freed you from this burden.

 

There are so many different ways this could have gone, you keep telling yourself.

 

But there’s no version of tonight where this didn’t happen, Mallory.

 

There’s no version of yourself that didn’t take the chain into your hands.

 

CARPENTER is breathing hard. She halts before the door - then pushes it open.
 

​

CABIN, INT, NIGHT

 

We hear faint, muffled jazz music as CARPENTER passes back through the cabin.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

You led the boy up the steps. Gently, offering him soothing words, promising him that he’d soon be free - just as you’d seen Em do it.

 

You led him right past the kitchen door, and you knew Nana could hear that you were doing as you were told.

 

She could hear that all of your lies were having no effect at all, and the boy was still crying and struggling and begging you not to do this.

 

You were still half-hoping that she’d put a stop to it all; decide you were too young, take the halter off your hands. Deal with him out of sight.

 

But Nana didn’t come to rescue you, and you had no choice but to keep walking out through the cabin door-

 

MARSHLAND, EXT, NIGHT

 

-and we hear the cabin door swing open as CARPENTER splashes out into the mud of the garden.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

The boy fought you with every step, but he was blind and he was bound, and his feet slipped in the mud, and you made it to the post, yanking the chain through its links, yanking it tight so he had nowhere to go but wait for the rising tide…

 

CARPENTER sighs - and then she does as she’s told.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN)

And you stood back and observed him, tethered and in the correct place, as Nana might observe a casserole steaming on her stove/

 

Did you whisper one final sorry to him? 

 

CARPENTER:

(Holding onto it for comfort)

I did. I told him I was sorry.

 

I’m certain I did.

 

THE SORROW-AND-SHAME (HELEN):

(With cruelty)

If you did, it didn’t help him. Not at all.

 

You turned back, and you could see the bright and comforting lights of the house, where dinner was waiting for you…

 

…and you left him behind.

 

You didn’t have to watch what happened next, when the angels came to take him away.

 

And the BOY begins to whimper and shriek as we hear something moving in the water below him, yanking him about-

 

CARPENTER:

Oh, damn you! Damn you! 

(Her voice cracking)

Please! Please, I said that’s enough! 

 

The ANGELS continue to come in for the kill, gathering in the water-

 

CARPENTER:

(Calling towards the house)

It’s over. It’s over. Do you hear me? 

 

I did it, I played my part, so let me go.

 

Let me go, please let me g-