© Andrew Novell 2005

© Andrew Novell 2005,
Email: andrewnovell@hotmail.com
Web Site: www.brokenruler.freewebspace.com
NELL
By
Andrew Novell
Andrew Novell 2005 © Nell Page. 2
Curtain Up. Stage is in darkness.
A room, empty but for an old wooden kitchen table center

stage, heavily worn and scarred with use, and two chairs.
Stage right a door. Stage left a cat’s bowl bearing the
name ‘Orpheus’ in large purple letters. Downstage
center, preferably situated within the audience itself,
there is a single bed with an old cast-iron frame. A
single light bulb hangs over both the table and the bed.
(To the side, set outside the action, is a girl with a violin.
She is dressed in the style of the 30’s or 40’s. She
provides an occasional accompaniment to the action.
This accompaniment is sometimes melodious, reflecting
the memories of the characters’ past experiences, while
at other times it is more improvised and abstract,
reflecting the current emotional situation. It fills the
chasms of nothingness which pepper the action.)
After a few moments the door opens and NELL enters.

She is a little old lady in her late 60s or early 70s. She is
a little out of breath. She is heavily bundled up against
the severe cold in a big coat, cardigan, woolly hat, snow
boots, etc. She carries a brown paper bag of groceries.
She turns on the light and closes the door, meticulously

locking and chaining it. She leans against the door and
closes her eyes – she seems relieved to be home. After a
few moments she crosses to the table and puts down the
bag, then brushes snow off of her coat. She looks around
the room.
NELL (Calling): Orpheus?
A pause.
NELL: Orpheus, are you there sweetheart?
A pause.
She considers for a moment.

NELL (To herself): I don’t remember him going out?
She shrugs and sits down heavily at the table, exhausted.
NELL: Oh Orpheus, this weather makes my old bones ache. It’s

colder than ever out there and that show... I was talking to this man
in the store and he said it was eleven below. He said it was coming
in to us from The Lake. Quite took my breath away it did when I
stepped outside. I could hardly see my hand in from of my face. (A
pause. She stares at the shopping.) I think I got everything we
needed. I’ll unpack it in a minute. I just need to sit down and rest
my old legs for a bit. Just for a minute. I won’t take long.
A pause.
NELL (Considering the bag before her): Maybe I should have bought
more, what do you think? I mean with the weather closing in and
everything. I couldn’t carry anymore though, and to tell you the
truth there wasn’t much left. We can’t afford much either. All in all
then I suppose it will have to do, but... Well I still wonder if I got
everything I should have. Maybe I should have got more? What do
you think?
Silence.
NELL (Looking around again): Orpheus where are you?
Silence.
NELL: Well I don’t know where you’ve got to.
She begins to rub her legs, trying to get the circulation

going.
NELL: Oh come on, wake up legs! No time to go to sleep on me.

Those stairs are getting too much for these old pins. There ice cold
too – dead. Maybe I should have worn two pairs of stockings. I
need some of those really think woolen ones. Maybe I’ll knit
myself a pair. I used to enjoy knitting. Haven’t done that for years.
I’ll start again – that is if I can find the needles... I haven’t seen
them for I don’t know how long. Maybe, they’re under the bed...
(Freezes. She stares at the bed.) The bed...
A pause.
NELL (Shakes her head): Now don’t go worrying about that now.
She quickly goes back to rubbing her legs, which are now
beginning to come back to life.
NELL (Doing a little dance as she sits): There we go, good as new.
(Considering her legs.) I always had good legs. They were my
best feature. Good dancer’s legs. They were never very long I
suppose, but I had very strong ankles, and that’s what matters.
Good strong calves too. I could cut a rug with the best of them.
(She stretches out a leg and gives a little wolf whistle, then
giggles.) Silly. My husband always liked to dance – unusual that in
a man. Not one for words he wasn’t, but on the dance floor... well,
he was very light on his feet. We’d dance all night sometimes.
A pause. She smiles.
NELL: My husband.
Her smile slowly fades and she appears to be feeling the

cold again. She stars at the bed.
A pause.
NELL (Nervously): Orpheus, where are you lover?
Silence.
NELL quickly shakes her head and stands to start

unpacking her groceries. She talks as she does so.
NELL: Got you a nice can of tuna too – the one in the brine. I thought
you’d like that.
NELL removes a can from the bag and holds it up to the

light to study the label.
NELL (Reading): ‘Best Albacore Tuna. Produce of Buffin Island.

Dolphin friendly.’ I wouldn’t mind some of this myself. Perhaps
we’ll share it, what do you say?
Silence.
NELL: I tried to get you that salmon that you liked last week, but they
were all out – so I got the tuna instead. Is that all right?
Silence.
Silence.
NELL shrugs again and continues unpacking, removing

more cans from the bag which, as it turns out, only
contains cans of tuna. She resumes her conversation.
NELL: They’re going crazy out there. You wouldn’t believe it. They
were acting like animals… (She looks apologetically at the cat’s
bowl.) No offence intended Orpheus. It must be the season,
stocking up for the winter I suppose. It’s so hard to get out in this
snow. But even so they were like… rats… vermin… scurrying
around me. (She shivers.) I nearly got knocked over once or twice
in the store. Imagine that, an old lady nearly getting knocked over
just doing her shopping. I think that’s terrible.
She finishes unpacking and sits down once more with

relief. She stares at the shopping on the table. She picks
up the can of tuna and again studies the label.
NELL: It’s in brine. You’ll like that. It’ll remind you of the sea.
A pause.
A pause.
NELL: Oh well, never mind.
She sets the can back on the table and stares at it.
NELL: You would have laughed at me earlier, you really would. You
know what happened? Well, when I’d left the store – I just putting
my purse away – and I was walking off down the road when all of a
sudden... I forgot where I was. I quite forgot. I couldn’t remember
where I lived or how to get back here. It was very strange. I
couldn’t even remember who I was exactly.
A pause.
NELL: Everything looked different somehow and I didn’t recognize

anything. All the houses and stores seemed as if I’d never seen then
before – just like I was seeing them all for the first time. I haven’t
felt so scared for I don’t know how long. It felt just like the first
time I came here all those years ago. This place was a different
world to the one I’d known and it was all so overwhelming, so
frightening. It was snowing like this then too, and it must have been
just about the same time of the year. Oh I still remember how cold
that snow felt even after all this time. (Considers.) How long ago
was it exactly? It must be.... Oh I can’t remember, but it was a
long time ago. But I do remember how afraid I felt back then.
Mind you I was so afraid of everything when I was young. ‘You’re
a real scaredy-cat’ they used to say, ‘you’re scared of your own
shadow’. Well I was I suppose. I know I was always worried
about what might happen to me and what would happen in the
future. Funny now looking back and at the way things turned out.
But the future is a scary thing... (She stares long and hard at the
bed. She shakes her head). But what was I so scared of back then?
You know now I can even remember. All I remember is being
afraid. Why was I so afraid of coming here though? I mean my
husband was here to help me, wasn’t he? So what did I have to
worry about? I can’t remember...
A pause.
NELL (Quietly): My husband. My... husband. My...
Silence.
A pause.
NELL: Anyway where was I? Oh yes, I was telling you how I

couldn’t find my way home. Well I started to walk a bit faster, and
I tried to ask people where I was, but they wouldn’t answer. They
just kept walking. I think they thought I was mad. They ignored
me. I know I’m a silly old thing, but... well, I started to cry. I was
so frightened, like I say, and the cold was stinging in my eyes, and I
just couldn’t see anything I knew, nothing I could recognize.
Everything was just white... everything... just... white. And there
was something else, it was most peculiar. It was the scariest part of
the whole thing I think. I don’t know why, but all the time there
was a peculiar sound like water in my ears. Now why did that
frighten me so?
A pause. NELL considers long and hard.
NELL: Then I turned the corner and… I began to remember some of

the things around me. Slowly, bit by bit, I began to recognize the
odd street sign or store. Eventually I began to remember how to get
back here. But it was like a puzzle that I had to solve – a big
jigsaw puzzle in my head with all the pieces mixed-up. I suppose it
all only lasted a few minuets, but it felt like forever.
A pause.
NELL: Now I wonder why that happened. What would make me

forget everything like that? I expect it was just the cold. I think the
snow got in my head. That’s it! Snow in the head. And me nearly
getting knocked over didn’t help. (A pause.) You know another
funny thing though? I only just remembered it, but before I forgot
where I was I started thinking about The Lake again. It must have
been what that man said about the weather that started me thinking
back. The Lake was where I came from you see, when I was a girl.
I started thinking how much milder the winters seemed to me up
there and how I never used to feel the cold like I do now. I suppose
it was because I was younger then, but I remember walking in the
evening in just a summer dress, even in the fall, and never feeling
cold. (She smiles and drifts away.) Oh you should see it up there
Orpheus! Maybe I’ll take you up to see it some day. It’s so
beautiful! It’s so quiet by The Lake shore too – just the sound of
the water on the pebbles and the wind in the trees. I’d watch the
sun set and I’d wait for him in the twilight. Oh I’d wait. I’d wait
for my... for my... but wait a minute, what am I talking about?
Who was waiting for? Who was it now? Funny, I just can’t
remember... I just can’t... O, this snow in my head…
She puts her head in her hands. A pause.
NELL (Snapping herself out of it): Maybe I need a little nap. (She
considers.) Yes that’s it, a little catnap. (She stares at the bed long
and hard again.) But here, here in the chair. Be sure to wake me
when it’s dinner time, sweetheart. (Calls.) Orpheus?
A pause. NELL hugs her cardigan tightly about her and

closes her eyes.
NELL (Sleepy): Just a little catnap… forty winks...
As her head lulls, NELL appears to have nodded off to

sleep.
Long pause and silence.
There is a knock at the door. NELL suddenly

reanimates, visibly surprised and confused. The knocking
becomes increasingly persistent.
NELL (Calling from a distance): Who’s there?
More knocking. A long anxious pause.
NELL goes to make a move towards the door, but then

stops. She moves away again anxiously. She doesn’t
know what to do and we watch for a few moments as she
plays out a little dumb show of impotent confusion. She
makes a move towards the bed, then stops, apparently
considering this is an even worse option than going to
the door. Eventually she crosses timidly to the door,
opens it on the chain, and peeks through.
NELL (Through the gap): Yes?
VOICE O/S: Mrs. Visnevski?
NELL: Yes?
VOICE O/S: Is that Mrs. Visnevski?
NELL: Yes.
VOICE O/S: May I have a word with you please?
NELL: What about?
VOICE O/S: It won’t take long.
NELL: What do you want a word with me about?
VOICE O/S: It concerns your husband, Mr. Visnevski.
NELL: Oh, but he’s dead.
VOICE O/S: Your husband.
NELL: I said he’s dead.
VOICE O/S: Yes. May I come in?
MELL (Confused): Well, I…
VOICE O/S: It is official business I am afraid.
A pause. NELL considers the situation, still obviously

confused.
VOICE O/S (Pressuring): I said it was official business Mrs.

Visnevski.
NELL: Well... I suppose you’d better come in then.
She opens the door.

The VISITOR enters. He is a young man in his early to

mid 20s. Tall, thin, and pale, he has short, slick black
hair and is dressed in a tight fitting black suit and tie,
emphasizing his willowy, insect-like quality. He carries
an old fashioned black briefcase, the type that closes at
the top. His eyes slowly search the room like a preying
mantis before finally settling on NELL.
VISITOR (Smiles broadly): Thank you.
A pause.
VISITOR: Quite a climb.
NELL: Sorry?
VISITOR: The stairs.
NELL: Oh yes.
A pause.
VISITOR: I am from the Bureau.
NELL: Really?
VISITOR: Oh yes. It’s about your husband. To be more precise, it

concerns his number.
NELL (Lost): His number?
VISITOR: Yes, his identification number. There appears to have been

a discrepancy. May I sit down?
He sits at the table.
VISITOR: You may sit also.
NELL (Hesitantly taking the other chair at the table): Thank you.
VISITOR: You’re welcome. (Opening his briefcase and searching

inside.) Now then, I believe that your husband died some time ago,
is that correct?
NELL: Yes, hum, let me see... it would be ten years ago now.
VISITOR: Yes. It has taken some time for us to approach you about
this discrepancy. Many people become overly confident that with
the passing of time their transgressions have been overlooked, but I
can assure you that our investigations at the Bureau never terminate.
NELL: Have I done something wrong?
VISITOR: I don’t know, (Stares at her.) do you think so?
NELL visibly shrinks in her chair. A pause.
VISITOR (Producing a document from his briefcase with polished

theatrical timing): This is a copy of the death registration form you
filed at the local Post Office. (Hands it to NELL.) Do you
recognize it?
NELL (Holding it up to the light): Yes, that’s right dear.
VISITOR: And that is your signature at the bottom, correct?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: And of equal importance, is that the identification number

that you proffered as relating to your husband, (Indicating with
finger.) top right-hand corner, correct?
NELL (More hesitantly): Yes.
VISITOR (Victorious): I see! (He snatches back the document and

quickly returns it to his briefcase.) And thereby resides our
quandary. For try as we may, we at the Bureau have been unable to
locate that number in our system.
NELL (Confused): Well that was the number he always…

VISITOR: I don’t know if you appreciate this, Mrs. Visnevski but

providing the wrong identification number for your husband is a
very serious matter, a very serious matter indeed. You see without
the correct identification number we are not only unable to process
his death, but more importantly, we are to all intents and purposes
equally unable to ratify his existence in the living. All this is usually
an automatic procedure performed within the Bureau’s cross-
reference system, but without the correct identification number a
manual ratification has to be performed, (Corporate smile.) hence
my visit with you today.
NELL (Lost): I see.
VISITOR: I can assure you that we, speaking on behalf of the Bureau,
would obviously prefer not to perform such a ratification procedure,
but given the circumstances…
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: Well we had best be getting started, as my time with you is

of a limited duration and post-mortal ratification can take some time
to complete. Although I will attempt to cause you as little pain as
possible, I am required to ask you a number of questions.
A pause as the VISITOR searches again in his

briefcase. NELL sits uneasily, unsure what to say.
NELL (Small voice): Would you like a cup of hot chocolate?
VISITOR (Stops and stares at NELL): I don’t really think so, do

you?
A pause. The VISITOR, with a flourish, produces a

very think form from his briefcase and a pen from his top
pocket.
VISITOR: I shall be using this form for the purposes of evaluating

your responses to the ratification procedure. By law I must warn
you that it is in your own interests to answer all questions as fully
and as truthfully as possible. Your failure to respond or to answer
dishonestly to these questions may result in a federal prosecution
being leveled against you, with the possibility of a maximum

penalty of thirty years penitential incarceration. Have you ever
been to prison?
NELL: No.
VISITOR: Well you don’t want to start now, do you? Therefore,

having been fully informed as to your obligations, do you swear by
the Almighty Lord to abide by the terms of the above legally
binding covenant?
NELL: Hum...
VISITOR (Pushing form and pen on her): Sign here please.
NELL hesitantly signs the form, which the VISITOR

immediately snatches back.
VISITOR: Strictly off the record, Mrs. Visnevski I would suggest that
you be totally honest with the Bureau from the outset. I have
carried out many of these ratification procedures during my
professional career and you would be amazed at the number of
people who steadfastly cling to their deceptions even when it is
clear they have been found out. Such behavior only causes the
maximum amount of pain and suffering to all concerned. Therefore
I strongly advise you to confess anything at this point before I
commence the ratification procedure. Do you have anything to
confess?
NELL (Cautiously): No, I don’t think so.
VISITOR: Hum... I see. (Checking his watch and noting the time on
the form.) So then, let us begin. Name?
NELL (considers): Mr. Visnevski.
VISITOR: No, what is your name?
NELL: I thought this was about my husband?
VISITOR: Obviously it concerns you equally.

NELL: Oh, yes I see… (Considers.) It’s Nell.
VISITOR: Nell. Thank you, please try and pay attention in the future.
NELL: Sorry.
VISITOR: Relationship to the victim?
NELL: What victim?
VISITOR: Your husband.
NELL: But he wasn’t a victim dear.
VISITOR: He was a victim of death. Relationship?
NELL: I’m his widow.
VISITOR: And what was your relationship while the victim was alive?
NELL: Well, I was his wife.
VISITOR: Good. Consistency in your answers is important. What

was the occupation of the victim?
NELL: Oh, he was retired.
VISITOR: Before he retired what did he do?
NELL: Hum, now let me see...
A pause as NELL tries to remember. The VISITOR

waits less than patiently.
VISITOR: Well Mrs. Visnevski?
NELL: Oh yes, well now he worked for over forty years at the steel
mill. Then it closed down. After that he pumped gas at... Lou’s
Truck Stop, that’s right. Oh, that was a terrible job! Out in all
weathers, rude people in a hurry for their gas and their change, oil
and grease all over him…
VISITOR: Yes, yes, I am sure. And is this establishment Lou’s Truck

Stop still in business?
NELL: Well no. You see it...
VISITOR: Closed down I suppose. Hum... I see.
The VISITOR considers and makes notes.
VISITOR: Children?
NELL: What about them dear?
VISITOR: Did you and the victim have any?
NELL: Oh, no. No children.
VISITOR: Why?
NELL: Well I don’t know really, I suppose we just....
VISITOR: Was one of you infertile?
An embarrassed pause.
VISITOR: To your knowledge were you capable of conception?
NELL (Small voice): Yes I suppose.
VISITOR: And the victim was equally capable of insemination? Was

he capable of performing his expected duties of manhood?
NELL: Well...
VISITOR: That is in your non-medical lay opinion?
NELL (Small voice): Yes.
VISITOR: Yet you still produced no off spring? Something of a

paradox, don’t you think?
NELL: Well we never got around to starting a family exactly.
VISITOR: I see.
A pause.
NELL: He worked a lot.
A pause.
VISITOR: Any other surviving family of your own or of the victim’s?
NELL: No.
VISITOR (Suspiciously): Hum… I see. So there is no one to

independently corroborate the information you provide regarding
the victim beside yourself?
NELL shakes her head.
VISITOR: Did you and the victim cohabite on these premises?
NELL: Sorry?
VISITOR: Did you live here with your husband?
NELL: Oh no, I had to move here after he died. I couldn’t afford to

keep the house.
VISITOR (Making a special note): I see. So no one in this immediate

area was familiar with your husband either?
NELL: Well, no not really dear, but…
VISITOR: Do you rent this apartment?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: Is it expensive?
NELL: No, the landlord lets me have it cheep on account of it’s being
on the third floor.
VISITOR: Does the landlord live on these premises?
NELL: Yes, he lives down in the basement. (In confidence.) I don’t

like him. There’s an odd smell comes up from down there – like
he’s cooking meat, but it’s getting burnt. It drifts up the stairs all
the time.
VISITOR (In confidence): I wouldn’t go down there if I were you.
NELL: Really?
VISITOR: From what you tell me I would not advise it. (Returning to
form.) Is the apartment furnished or unfurnished?
NELL: Furnished.
VISITOR: And the bed?
NELL (Suddenly afraid, staring at the bed): What about it?
VISITOR: It belongs to the landlord? It came with the apartment?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: I hope I am not keeping you from it.
NELL: From what?
VISITOR (Pointedly): The bed.
NELL: No, I never go to... I don’t sleep that much.
VISITOR (Studying NELL’s reaction) Hum... I see.
The VISITOR makes a special note on the form.
VISITER: So since your husband’s death you have lived here alone?
NELL: Yes. (Reconsiders) That is except for Orpheus.
VISITOR: Who?
NELL (Indicating the cat’s bowl): The cat.
Both look to the bowl. A pause.
VISITOR: Was it your husband’s cat?
NELL: Oh yes. He loved him he did. He never left his side.
VISITOR: I see. We had no prior record of this creature. What type

of cat?
NELL: Oh he’s a big one.
VISITOR (Uneasy, looking around): Really?
The VISITOR turns his attention to the shopping on the

table.
VISITOR: Hence the copious amount of tuna?
He picks up a can and holds it up to the light to study the

label.
VISITOR (Reading): ‘Best Albacore Tuna. Produce of Buffin Island.

Dolphin friendly.’ (With incredible gravity.) ‘In brine.’ This is
intended to be consumed by the animal?
NELL: Yes, it’s his favorite.
VISITOR: Personally I prefer salmon.
NELL: So does he dear, but they were all out.
VISITOR: Yes they usually are. Such is the constant disappointment

of life. (Uneasy.) And where is this animal now?
NELL: I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since I got back. He’s
probably out doing his business. (Calls.) Orpheus?
NELL begins to make the usual noises one performs to

attract a cat – little clicks, ‘meows’ and ‘here, kitty,
kitty’, etc. This goes on for some time until she realizes
that the VISITOR is staring at her as if she has gone
mad.
VISITOR: Please don’t do that.
NELL: Sorry.
VISITOR (Considers long and hard): Orpheus? Did your husband

name the animal?
NELL: Yes. That is I think so. I can’t really remember now. He was
just always called that.
VISITOR: Orpheus is a strange name for a domesticated pet, don’t

you think? I mean Fluffy or Tibbles or Mr. Bumble Muffin I could
understand, but Orpheus has such mythical overtones.
NELL: You think so dear?
Bangs the can down on the table.
VISITOR (Confrontational): You tell me?
A pause.
VISITOR (Quick): Did your husband listen Offenbach?
NELL: No.
VISITOR: I see! (Making notes on form.) All the more intriguing.
NELL is totally lost.
The VISITOR leans back in his chair and considers.

VISITOR (More relaxed and informal): Where did you meet your
husband exactly?
NELL: Oh, hum... now where did we meet? Well, yes it was out in the
country of course. Funnily enough I was only thinking about back
then before you came. I grew up in a little town up by The Lake.
My husband liked to get away from work at the weekends and go
fishing. Sometimes he’d stop by at the diner I worked at – it was
very popular with hunters and fishermen at the time. I was barely
out of high school, just a kid really. He was much older than me.
Not much of a talker, but...
VISITOR: The strong silent type?
NELL (Smiling): Not much to look at either, but he had a nice smile.
VISITOR: Yes. What they call a winning smile I suppose?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: And it won you.
NELL: Yes. You see dear, I used to love to go dancing. That was
always my big thing, dancing. One day he finally got the courage to
ask me if I wanted to go dancing with him and...
VISITOR: ...one thing led to another and eventually you ended up

marrying him?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: Hum... I see. Well I’m told that when you’re in love you
go where it takes you, isn’t that so?
NELL (More hesitantly): yes, yes I suppose you do dear.
VISOTOR: And you were?
NELL: What?
VISITOR: In love with him?

NELL: Well... you have to work at a marriage, dear.
VISITOR: I see.
A pause.
VISITOR: So he whisked you away with him to this metropolis?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: If you don’t mind me saying so it sounds almost like the

introduction to a dime store romance – ‘A tall, dark stranger
appears as if by magic, saving the young heroine from her life of
rural isolation’.
NELL: Yes, I suppose it was a little like that. Except that my husband
wasn’t very tall.
VISITOR: I’m sure you were very attractive back then. You must
have been quite a catch for a wandering fisherman.
NELL (A little shy): Well, I wasn’t bad I suppose.
VISITOR: Did anyone at The Lake get to know your husband?
NELL: No, not really. He always kept himself to himself. (A little shy.)
And we eloped.
VISITOR: Your parents never even met him?
NELL: No. I had no family by then.
VISITOR: I see.
A pause.
VISITOR: Do you miss it?
NELL: Miss what dear?

VISITOR: The Lake?
NELL: Sometimes. It was a nice place. Like I say I was thinking

about it only today.
VISITOR: Yes, it is very beautiful.
NELL (Thinking deeper): But the more I think about it, the more I
remember now there was something else... something I didn’t like
about it... but I can’t remember exactly what...
A pause.
VISITOR: I was there recently as a matter of fact.
NELL: Really?
VISITOR: Yes. The Lake has an exhilarating prospect, particularly

when you stand down by the shore.
NELL is drifting further away into the past.
NELL: Now isn’t that funny...
VISITOR: What is funny?
NELL: Isn’t that peculiar...
VISITOR: What is peculiar?
NELL: Well just before you came I was talking to… (Stops and looks
around again for the none-existent cat.) Well I mean I was just
thinking about The Lake and how I used to wait by the shore, just
where you’re talking about. But before I couldn’t remember who I
was waiting for because of the snow in my head...
VISITOR: The snow in your head?
NELL: But now talking to you has jogged my memory. (Drifting

deeper, becoming oblivious to the presence of the VISITOR.) Now
I remember I was waiting for him... of course, I waited for him to
meet me by The Lake... and then we’d walk together along the
shore... listening to the sound of the water in the quiet of the
evening air... never saying a word... then we’d stand for ages, just
looking out at the lights from the city on the far side, reflecting in
the water as if they were shining up from a city down below...
(Darker.) Now I remember that’s the only thing I didn’t like about
that place. There was something strange about those lights... as if
they were drawing us towards them...
As NELL sinks deeper into her remembrance, the

VISITOR watches her intently.
VISITOR: You mean you walked by The Lake with Mr. Visnevski?
NELL (Lost): No, that was all before I met my husband... I remember
now I walked there with...
VISITOR: Your lover. Yes, I know...
The VISITOR makes a note on the form. A pause.
VISITOR (Breaking the silence and returning to his set questions):

Number of years familiar with the victim?
NELL (Coming to her senses again): Familiar?
VISITOR (Impatient): How many years were you with your husband?
NELL: Oh, now let me see...
Long pause as NELL tries hard to remember. The

VISITOR again waits less than patiently.
VISITOR: Mrs. Visnevski...
NELL: Hum, yes... it would have been thirty-five years.
VISITOR: I see, and for how many of those years were you married to
him?
NELL: Oh, well, that would have been thirty-four – because we were
married a year to the day after we first met.
VISITOR: You were married here in the city?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: At which church?
NELL: Oh at the town hall. We didn’t want any fuss.
VISITOR: And during this year long courtship prior to your legally
sanctified marriage you cohabited with the victim – a.k.a your
husband? You lived together?
NELL: Yes, he had a house on the east side.
VISITOR: And at during that time you and the victim were
‘copulatory lovers’?
NELL: Pardon?
VISITOR: The Bureau defines the term ‘copulatory lovers’ as two

people whom habitually perform sexual intercourse outside of
wedlock. Importantly, the Bureau strives to assign a linguistic
differentiation between the higher spiritual and romantic concept of
those in love, of which it defines as ‘lovers per se’, and those
couples who are simply indulging in the bestial practice of coitus.
Therefore, did copulation occur on a habitual basis between you
and your husband before you were married?
NELL sinks visibly in her chair. An embarrassed pause.
VISITOR: Well Mrs. Visnevski?
NELL: That’s a rather intimate question isn’t it?
VISITOR (At a loss): Intimate? I fail to see why? Statistics have

clearly proven the mathematical likelihood of sexual intercourse
occurring prior to marriage, especially when the factor of
cohabitation is also present. Were you a virgin before meeting you
husband?
NELL just stares at him, then gives a little shake of her

head.
VISITOR: Then adding your condition of vagina non-intacta to

cohabitation raises the statistical probability of premarital sex
having occurred even higher.
A pause.
VISITOR (Pressing): So did it?
NELL gives a little nod.
VISITOR: Hum… I see. I should inform you then that henceforth the
Bureau will regard you and the victim as having been ‘copulatory
lovers’ out of wedlock.
A pause.
VISITOR (Looking back over NELL’s previous answers on the

form): Where did your husband work?
NELL: Didn’t you ask me that before?
VISITOR: The form is in triplicate, please answer.
NELL: Oh, I see... well, he, hum...
VISITOR: Mrs. Visnevski...
NELL: Yes, hum, he worked at the grain mill.
VISITOR (Making notes): Really? And after he retired?
NELL: Oh then he pumped gas at... yes, at Art’s Truck stop.
VISITOR: Is that so? (Making notes.) Most interesting. (Not looking

up.) And the bed?
NELL (Staring at the bed): What about it?

VISIOTR: You said it came with the apartment?
NELL: No. (Quickly changing subject.) Are you sure you wouldn’t
like a hot chocolate?
The VISITOR just stares at her and slowly shakes his

head.
A pause.
VISITOR: Were you involved with anyone else at the time you met
your husband?
NELL: I’m sorry?
VISITOR: Did you have a ‘lover per se’ or a ‘copulatory lover’, as

previously defined, before your husband?
NELL: Why would you want to know that?
VISITOR: I personally do not want to know it – it’s here on the form.

Please answer yes or no.
NELL (Uneasy): No.
VISITOR: Really? A young, attractive girl who liked to dance and

that worked at a diner frequented by hunters and fishermen – you
must have had many suitors?
NELL: Well, I was just a kid.
VISITOR: At eighteen or nineteen? Hardly still a ‘kid’. You were a

young woman in the midst of her blossoming sexually awareness.
Surely you had experience of men?
NELL: Things were different back then.
VISITOR: So many would like to believe. But we know differently,

don’t we? The primal instincts of men and woman have always
remained remarkably consistent.
NELL: Well...
VISITOR: I mean it would have been only natural that you would
have been wooed, given the nature of the men surrounded you.
NELL: I was just a waitress.
VISITOR: Exactly, you were easy prey.
NELL: No one was hunting me.
VISITOR: Are you sure? What about the local men, virile from their
long, hard hours of toiling the soil and eager to demonstrate their
prowess on the dance floor…
NELL: Well I suppose they…
VISITOR: Broad-shouldered truck drivers recounting glamorous

stories of their travels to far-off and exotic states, such as
Arkansas…
NELL: Well, you see dear…
VISITOR: Silver tongued young men waxing lyrically on the natural

splendor of the Great Lakes…
NELL: What?
VISITOR (Challenging): I’m talking about poets.
Silence.
NELL (Closing up): It’s all so far away now. I don’t remember
anyone I knew back then except my husband.
VISITOR: Really. I’ve been told that people from the past,
particularly ex-lovers, often appear like objects in your mirror –
closer than you think. Please try hard to remember, and bear in
mind the importance of answering honestly.
A pause. NELL turns away.
VISITOR: So you are now telling me that you did not have intimate
relations with any man prior to your association with your husband?
NELL: No.
VISITOR: Then how, pray, did you become vagina non-intacta?
NELL: Hum...
VISITOR: And, moreover, what about the lover you waited for on The
Lake shore?
NELL stares dumbfounded at the VISITOR. A pause.
NELL: Who?
VISITOR: Didn’t you tell me that you waited for a lover by The Lake
before you ever met your husband?
NELL (Confused): I don’t remember telling you that?
VISITOR: You mentioned it earlier.
NELL (Trying to remember): I didn’t – did I?
VISITOR: Oh yes. I made a special notation of it. (Briefly indicating

his notes) See? And I am afraid that since you have raised the topic
of this former lover it is necessary for me to press you on the
subject.
NELL: I thought all you wanted to know about was my husband?
VISITOR: As I have already explained it is necessary for me to

enquire fully into your own personal background also. Now then
this man...
NELL (Increasingly uneasy): I’m sure I wouldn’t have told you about
him. I really don’t remember anything about him.
VISITOR: Are you telling me that you have simply forgotten a man so
significant in your life?
NELL: Did I really mention him?
VISITOR: Mrs. Visnevski you most certainly did. And anyway you
only served to confirm that of which the Bureau was already aware.
In truth I would have raised the subject of this former lover
regardless of your mentioning him. He was after all at one time you
fiancé was he not?
NELL: But no one knew that. How do you know?
VISITOR: Research.
NELL (Stares at the VISITOR): You knew about him? Before you
even came here? How did you know about him?
VISITOR: The Bureau’s investigations are very extensive.
A pause.
VISITOR: I must press you Mrs. Visnevski. My time, as I told you, is

limited and my enquiries must be meticulously completed.
A pause.
NELL (Small voice): There was someone. I knew him before I met
my husband. He was just a kid. He asked me to marry him, and I
said... well I said yes. But I changed my mind. It wasn’t anything
serious.
VISITOR: You say he was young?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: I understand that youthful infatuation can play strange

tricks on one’s powers of reason. He may have believed your
commitment to be more serious than you did.
NELL: I’m sure he hadn’t thought about it seriously either.

VISITOR: How can you be so sure?
NELL: Because I knew him too well. He was a dreamer, a wanderer.

He would never have stayed put. He just wasn’t the marrying type.
He wasn’t serious about anything. Eventually he’d have become
unhappy with me. I’m sure he would have been unhappy.
VISITOR: Did intercourse take place between you and this Young
Man? Was he the cause of your prenuptial vagina non-intacta
status?
NELL shrinks visibly. She Nods.
VISIOR: Hum… I see. (Making notes.) I should inform you then that
henceforth the Bureau will also regard you and this individual as
having been ‘copulatory lovers’ out of wedlock.
NELL: I don’t see what he has to do with my husband?
VISITOR: The Bureau must be the judge of that. (Prepares to write

down NELL’s response). So what exactly caused the termination
of the relationship between you and this Young Man?
Silence.
The VISITOR puts down his pen and leans back in his
chair. He takes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and
lights one. He plays with it between his fingers and
blows smoke rings at the ceiling. He smiles at NELL
encouragingly.
VIISITOR: Now then Mrs. Visnevski there is no need to feel

embarrassed. This is an official investigation as I have explained,
and whatever you tell me will remain in the strictest confidence. I
am a professional, something in which I personally take great pride,
and any indiscretion you may or may not have committed some
forty years ago is of no personal interest to me whatsoever. In the
course of my work I have encountered quite disgusting recollections
of human depravity, such things as would make a black-bird blush,
and no matter how sordid or squalid your own past actions may
have been I can assure you I will have heard them a million times
before. Therefore, I ask you again to please cooperate in fully
answering the Bureau’s questions.
NELL remains silent.
VISITOR (Impatient): Mrs. Visnevski?
NELL: What is it you want to know?
VISITOR: Why you decided not to marry this Young Man?
NELL: It’s hard to explain.
VISITOR: Did he ask you to perform unnatural adult activities with

him? The Bureau defines the term ‘unnatural adult activities’ as...
NELL: No.
VISITOR: Was he violent? Did he physically harm you?
NELL: No.
VISITOR: Was he unfaithful.
NELL: No, no, nothing like that...
VISITOR: Then why did you break off this engagement?
NELL: I had my reasons.
VISITOR: And they where?
Silence.
VISITOR: Mrs. Visnevski?
NELL (Quickly): I told you he was a dreamer. He wanted to be a

poet. Not exactly a steady career, is it? He asked me to marry him.
I said yes... but then I began to think, and the more I thought about
it the less certain I became. I began to think I might be making a
terrible mistake. Eventually I broke off the engagement. But he

just couldn’t understand. He couldn’t just let me go. He kept
asking me why, why – just like you are now. I had to get away,
and... and then I met my husband and well... well he gave me a way
to escape from The Lake...
VISOTOR: From the Lake?
NELL: I... I mean from that Young Man.
Silence.
VISITOR (Checking his watch and noting the time on the form): That
concludes the questions on this form.
NELL: Is that all?
The VISITOR studies the form for a long time,

apparently evaluating NELL’s answers. Finally he
places it back in his briefcase. He stares at NELL long
and hard.
VISITOR: Mrs. Visnevski, I am afraid that the information that you

have provided falls considerably short of satisfactory. In fact in
many respects it has only served to muddy the waters of this case
still further. Consequently, and speaking on behalf of the Bureau, it
is with the greatest regret that I must now perform a more thorough
extemporary examination. The Bureau of course always hopes that
such drastic measures will not be necessary, but given the
circumstances…
NELL: I see.
A pause.
The VISITOR stands, removes his jacket and rolls up

his sleeves. He lights another cigarette and again plays
with it between his fingers, apparently using the time to
plan his course of attack. NELL shifts uneasily. During
the following the lights very slowly fade down until the
only illumination on NELL comes from the dim light
bulb hanging above the table. The VISITOR is thus

only clearly visible on the odd occasions he closes in on
NELL.
VISITOR: Once again I should warn you that your accuracy and
honesty when answering the extemporary examination is of prime
significance. (More candidly.) You know Mrs. Visnevski you really
must begin to try and remember the past more accurately. In many
respects I am but the cipher of a function, but if I do claim a raison
d’etre here it is to make you remember your obligations to the truth.
I still do not think you understand how much trouble you have
caused a great many people. Not least yourself if you did but know
it.
NELL: I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to cause anyone any trouble.
VISITOR: We at the Bureau attempt to run a very tight ship. We do

not like discrepancies, and we take a particularly dim view of those
whom not only perpetrate them but persist in causing further
confusion through a refusal to acknowledge their past actions. A
wrongly filed identification number is no laughing matter...
NELL: Excuse me, but I was just wondering...
VISITOR (Ignoring NELL): Now then this Young Man at The Lake...
NELL: I’m sorry, but I was just wondering, perhaps this wrong
number isn’t my fault.
Silence.
VISITOR (Incredulity): What?
NELL (Timidly): I said perhaps... it’s... not... my fault?
VISITOR: Then whose is it? Mine perhaps? Surely you are not
suggesting the Bureau’s?
NELL: No... well, I don’t know. Well, maybe... yes.
A pause.
VISITOR: Are you seriously suggesting the Bureau has made a

mistake?
NELL: Well you’re only human.
VISITOR: Human! We are professionals!
NELL: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply...
VISITOR: Mrs. Visnevski I can assure you that the Bureau has made
every conceivable effort to clear up this discrepancy before
approaching you. I and my colleagues have dedicated a
considerable amount of time to investigating this case. Hours of
manpower have been spent plowing through files and statements,
checking and re-checking every conceivable random factor which
may have been the cause of the problem. Many of my colleagues
were forced to neglect their other duties in order to continue their
investigations of your husband’s number, or rather the lack there of.
Some even applied themselves to solving this mystery in their own
time, to the considerable detriment of their health. Such is the
dedication and PROFESSIONALISM of the Bureau. For ten years
we have struggled with this problem, but to no avail. For some of
my colleagues this case has spanned the entire length of their
careers. Do you have any comprehension just how heart-breaking it
is to apply so much personal effort – literally blood, sweat and tears
– to restoring the harmonious accuracy of the Bureau’s records only
to be constantly rewarded with defeat? I scarcely expect you to
know this, but you and your husband have become almost hate
figures within the Bureau. Many of my colleagues simply refused
to investigate your case any further, washing their hands of this fetid
affair altogether. And I am talking about good men Mrs. Visnevski,
gentlemen and PROFESSIONALS that would never dream of
abandoning an investigation unless pushed to the ultimate limit of
their ethical endurance. Many even objected to my continued
investigation of your case, suggesting that the maximum penalty
should be inflicted upon you without further delay. Their rationale
being that simply removing you from the equation would prove
equally satisfactory in resolving the turmoil you and your husband’s
damnable identification number have caused. I have to admit that
there were times when I almost succumbed to their demands. I
confess I too stumbled in the wilderness. However, I alone

remained committed to my quest, to my PROFESSIONALISM. It
was only through appealing to my colleague’s final vestiges of
compassion that I convinced then to allow me this last ditch attempt
to confront you and resolve the matter through peaceable means.
So if I might say so I JUST DON’T THINK YOU KNOW HOW
LUCKY YOU ARE!!!
NELL: I’m sorry, I’m sorry!
A pause.
VISITOR: Very well. Now we have finally determined ONCE AND

FOR ALL where the source of culpability lies, I wish to begin the
extemporary examination. IF THAT’S ALL RIGHT WITH YOU?
NELL gives a tiny nod.
VISITOR: Thank you. As I said before your interruption I wish to

return to the subject of this Young Man. My chief concerns center
around this unfortunate character, as it is my belief that the story
surrounding him is pivotal to the case of your husband. I believe it
may explain the absence of his identification number.
NELL: I really don’t understand why?
VISITOR: Don’t you? Well we shall see. Now then this Young Man,
like you, was from The Lake?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: How long had you known him?
NELL: Since we were kids. We grew-up together.
VISITOR: So you were good friends?
NELL: Yes we were. (Painfully thinking back.) Bestest, bestest

friends... I was a bit of a tomboy, and he seemed to like that. He
was always brainy you see, and the other boys didn’t like him. I
was the only on that he got along with. (Smiles.) I remember we
played pirates on The Lake shore – there was an old ship and we’d
have sword fights on its deck with wooden swords. ‘Pirate Nell,
the scourge of the Caribbean!’ he called me. (Her smile fades.)
Later he lost his family like me, and then we only had each other.
We were inseparable.
VISITOR: Good. You seem to be remembering things much better

now.
NELL: Yes. (Puzzled.) I wonder why?
VISITOR: I wonder. And eventually his innocent childhood

friendship turned to his love for you?
NELL: I don’t know.
VISITOR: It culminating in his asked you to marry him didn’t it?
NELL: Yes.
VISITOR: Then he must have loved you surely?
NELL: I don’t know. I suppose he loved me, yes.
VISITOR: Did you love him?
NELL (uneasy): I don’t remember.
VISITOR: I think you do.
NELL: I don’t.
VISITOR: But you were devoted to him? Didn’t you wait every
evening for him by The Lake?
NELL: Yes, but...
VISITOR: Could he dance?
NELL: Not a step.

VISITOR: Then it must have been love. Are you certain you don’t
remember?
NELL: It’s a long time ago.
VISITOR: Really?
NELL: I told you I forget things.
VISITOR: Not as much as before and anyway I am told that true love
is a state of being that is very hard to forget. Try harder.
Silence.
VISITOR (Casually): Perhaps you would prefer to lie down.
NELL: What?
VISITOR: It’s getting late. Perhaps it would help you to lie down for
a while and rest. On the bed perhaps?
NELL (Staring at the bed): Why do you have to keep talking about the
bed?
VISITOR: I just thought that...
NELL: Please stop.
Silence.
NELL: Alright, yes.
VISITOR: Yes what?
NELL: I loved him.
VISITOR: Very much?
NELL: Yes very, very much. I loved him with all my heart.
VISITOR: I see. The Bureau will henceforth regard you and this
Young Man as having been ‘lovers per se’ as opposed to solely

‘copulatory lovers’.
NELL: Oh, what difference does it make!
VISITOR: I think you’ll find it makes all the difference in the end. So
did you fall out of love with him?
NELL: No, never.
VISITOR: But you still jilted him for your future husband, correct?
NELL: No I didn’t jilt him for anyone. I told you my feelings had
already changed about marrying him.
VISITOR: But why?
NELL: Because…
VISITOR: Because what?
NELL: Because... I don’t know.
A pause.
VISITOR: May I speak candidly? You yourself have indicated that

the appearance of your husband at this point in you life was
remarkably fortuitous. I mean had it not been for Mr. Visnevski’s
manifestation it may have proved harder for you to leave and you
would perhaps have been forced to justify your change of heart to
this Young Man.
NELL: I didn’t have to justify it. I had a right to change my mind if I

wanted to.
VISITOR: Only if you had a just cause to truly doubt in him. Perhaps
you couldn’t find a tangible excuse. Maybe you just ran away when
you got the chance. You already admitted that you considered
meeting your husband as an opportunity to ‘escape’ the presents of
this Young Man, and apparently The Lake also.
NELL: It did.
VISITOR: Any yet cannot give a clear reason why your feelings
changed towards this unfortunate? What was so wrong with this
Young Man? You say you still loved him, so what changed exactly?
NELL: I just didn’t trust him.
VISITOR: But why?
NELL: I began to think he was just leading me on. He had a way with
words and could twist me around his little finger.
VISITOR: But did he ever do anything to break your trust?
NELL: No, not exactly.
VISITOR: Then why mistrust him?
NELL: I told you he was a dreamer. I loved him with all my heart, but
I didn’t believe he’d stay with me. I thought that eventually he
would have left me and I would have been alone... (Darker.) all
alone by The Lake... Then I met my husband, and my husband
seemed such a good man, so very trustworthy. I tried never to think
about that Young Man after I met my husband – it was hard, yes,
very hard, but I managed it. I still loved him it’s true, even when I
left, but I never thought about him again, not once – that is not until
today, when you came here and started asking me all these
questions.
VISITOR: So your husband was just a safer bet?
NELL (Defensive): No, he was just a good man. I thought he would

always be here for me. (Convincing herself also.) And I’m sure he
was... He was faithful to me in a way that that Young Man would
never have been.
VISITOR: Your husband sounds almost perfect.
NELL: Yes he was perfect. He was a dream come true.

VISITOR: Really? A dream?
NELL: I mean he never left my side.
VISITOR: Is that so? Not here now though, is he?
Silence.
VISITOR: You know Mrs. Visnevski I have reason to believe this

Young Man was far more committed to you than you where aware.
I mean didn’t he say he would give up his literary pursuits and
follow a more, as you put it, ‘steady career’?
NELL: How do you know that? I can’t see you can know anything
about him?
VISITOR: Really? It may surprise you to learn that during the course
of my research into your husband’s case I have been able to
uncover some considerable detail pertaining to this Young Man. By
all account he was quit committed to you. I have spoken to many
people that knew him at that time and they agree that he was
determined to marry you and make a life with you. He apparently
had made plans to study law, and was on the verge of announcing
his decision to you when you left. Of course he tried to find you,
but his efforts proved fruitless. The note you left him telling of your
decision to leave and of your new love conveniently neglected to
reveal where you and your future husband proposed to reside. For
many years, except for the occasions when he travel in search of
you, he remained at The Lake. He was a shadowing figure then,
pathetic even – walking alone and withdrawn from company. Many
predicated him to be a lost soul. His only solace appeared to be in
searching for you, but even that was in truth a hollow quest. For
although he longed to find you, to declare his love afresh, he was
tormented by the belief that you had found true happiness, and that
a reconciliation was out of the question. Had he known that that
was not necessarily the case who can say how much harder he may
have searched?
A pause.
VISITOR: Yet his life was not completely a failure, at least so it began
to appear to the outside world. Eventually, he returned to writing

poetry, and he was, by those that know about such things, of some
promise as a poet. Although it never attaining a wide circulation,
his work was frequently published in some of the minor periodicals
on the East coast, and eventually gained something of a cult
following. In fact, within many of the most illustrious publishing
houses his name still remains familiar, even venerated today – even
if such celebration of him results more from the strange
circumstances surrounding his life than for his literary output.
A pause.
VISITOR: His poetry, some of which I have dedicated my leisure time

to studying, was of a curious quality. Quality of no question, as
many a learned critic concurred, but curious nonetheless. What
troubled critical analysis was a quality which, for want of a better
terminology, could only be describe as ‘lost’. You see it appeared
without a clear objective at a time when to possess a discernable
motivation was to be considered well on the path to a creative
Nirvana. Such critics hence considered this Young Man’s work to
be, as one put it ‘wandering aimlessly in a nihilistic purgatory’, for
it frequently resolved itself through a return to its beginning, or by
committing the worst of literary sins, through no perceivable
resolution at all. ‘A stagnation of style’ they said, stagnating in an
‘interminable series of punctuated periods and pregnant pauses...’
A pause.
VISITOR: Now I am not a literary man, but in my humble opinion

such critics were wrong. It was not that this Young Man’s work
was without motivation, but rather that it lacked a certain essence.
At the risk of venturing into romanticism, one may even suggest it
lacked an essence of love perhaps? It was as if a piece of his soul
was lacking from him and that consequently, try as he may, he could
not locate it in his work either. The more philosophically minded
may even conjecture that this lacking element, this essence of his
lady soul, was you.
A pause.
VISITOR: But I digress. The professional criticism which this Young

Man received was of much consternation to him, and he obsessively

dedicated himself to trying to satisfy his critics. The exertion of his
attempts to win popular acceptance eventually took its toll and his
mind, never strong, began to slip away from him. You could say he
began to drown in the dark waters of his self doubt. He became
confused, delusional, and unsure of everything around him.
Sometimes he forgot where he was, even who he was. Exhaustion
was diagnosed and rest prescribed. So they put him in a quiet place
on his own, away from the hustle and bustle of the outside world.
But the quiet of his confinement made him lose himself in the past,
and once again he returned to his thoughts of you. Endless tests
were performed by some of the most eminent doctors in the land,
but to no avail. Eventually they simple declared that he was mad, a
crazy, a lunatic laughing at the moon. He was a danger to himself,
but also to the well ordered running of our society. So for many
years he remained confined, locked away and eventually forgotten.
Apparently, he thought, even by you.
A pause. NELL is silent for a long time.
NELL (Softly): What I said before, it wasn’t true. I didn’t forget him,
at least not completely.
VISITOR: Really? So you now confess that you remembered him?
NELL: Yes, yes, I remember him sometimes – I told you I loved him
with all my heart, didn’t I?
VISITOR: That is very significant, and will help your case I can
assure you. But once again, why did you run from him? Was it just
that your fears outweighed your love?
NELL: Yes, I suppose it was.
VISITOR: Yet you still cannot articulate exactly what gave birth to
these fears?
NELL: I just had bad thoughts about him – very, very bad thoughts.
VISITOR: In general would you describe yourself as a nervous person

back then? A scaredy-cat? Afraid of your own shadow?
NELL: I was just a girl, everything was new to me. I didn’t want to
make any mistakes. I didn’t want to be left alone... alone by The
Lake...
VISITOR: Did you think that this Young Man and The Lake were
somehow connected?
NELL: Perhaps.
VISITOR: How?
NELL: I don’t know exactly, I told you I just had bad thoughts. I kept
thinking about things over and over. It was like a chatter box in my
head. There was a voice, constantly warning me to be careful. It
kept telling me that I was making a mistake – ‘he’ll leave you...
he’ll leave you...’ it said, ‘Get away from him... get away from The
Lake...’
VISITOR: So you’re telling me you based your rejection of him and

you marriage to Mr. Visnevski on these negative thoughts? Not on
facts?
NELL: I suppose so, yes. But sometimes you have to be careful, don’t
you?
VISITOR: I’m really not qualified to say. But was that all, just a
voice in your head?
NELL: No, I... I had dreams too.
VISITOR (Instantly interested): Go on.
NELL: They were always the same. In my dreams we’d meet by The
Lake shore, just as we always did. We’d stand for a while and
watch the sun fade, and the lights from the city begin to shine in the
water... it was so peaceful, so quiet... as if time had stopped as we
stood there. Then all of a sudden he’d say ‘come on, Nell...’ and
take my hand, and start walking towards the lights... then it was like
we were out over the water... he’d just keep saying ‘come on, Nell,
don’t worry’, and because he was holding my hand I felt I had
nothing to fear. Then the next thing I realized he was gone, and I
was sinking down towards the lights... deep into the blackness of
The Lake... and all I could hear was the water in my ears, and I
started to scream... but there was no sound... just the noise of the
water in my ears...
VISITOR: I see. But surely you realized those were just nightmares?
NELL: No, they were more than that. They seemed real. So real...
VISITOR: So real you believed them to be prophetic? Warnings?
NELL is silent.
VISITOR: But what if your pessimism was wrong? What if this

Young Man was in fact true to you? That he was the man whom
destiny had planned for you to marry? What then? What if your
feelings and nightmares were not so benevolent after all? Rather,
what if they were sent by more malevolently forces trying to sway
you from your true course of happiness? Such forces exist I can
assure you – I have encountered them times many, many times. The
truth is that you may have made the mistake you so feared in not
marrying him. It may have been that this Young Man intended to
stay with you forever. He may well have still been here with you
right now.
NELL: Yes he may have, but what’s the point of thinking about that –
it’s just a good thing that we’ll never know.
VISITOR: Yes, it is sometimes good to remain ignorant to our

mistakes. But what if accepting the truth offered salvation? In that
case refusing to acknowledge the truth would be an unnecessary
hell don’t you think?
NELL: But how can knowing if I made a mistake about him change
things now?
The VISITOR is silent.
A pause.
VISITOR: You know Mrs. Visnevski I still cannot help but find your
actions contradictory. I can see why your night terrors may have
swayed you from this Young Man, but does not any relationship
contain its fair share of uncertainty? Grief is surely the inevitably
price we pay for love. I mean isn’t every man worthy of such fear
as you felt about this Young Man? For example, what made you so
sure you could trust this Mr. Visnevski? Why were you not
pessimistic about him also? You could just as easily have been
mistaken about him – he was after all a man you hardly knew, from
a city you had never even seen. All that he told you could have
been a tissue of lies. For all you knew he could have been a bum on
the street, or an axe murderer, or a devotee of the Dark Lord. Did
you investigate him? Did you travel to see where he lived? Did
you force him to corroborate his story? All he said may well have
been a dream untrue. So why were you so sure of him? What
infused him with trust? Did he really seem so trustworthy? Answer
me honestly? A man who by his own admission idled away his
spare time killing the defenseless aquatic life of our land and
soliciting impressionable young girls in diners? Your actions make
no sense. You fled form a man you knew everything about to a man
that was to all intents and purposes a zero?
NELL: I just thought I knew who he was. I never thought there was
any mystery about him. I didn’t think I was making a mistake with
him.
VISITOR: But you didn’t love him.
NELL (Hesitantly): I thought I could... in time.
VISITOR: I see, ‘thoughts’ again. With hindsight do you think it a

wise decision to base your major life decisions on what, by your
own admission, were a confusion of thoughts – an incoherent
‘chatter box’?
NELL: I just thought that marrying my husband was the right thing to
do. I thought marrying that Young Man was the wrong thing. I
can’t explain it more than that.
VISITOR: But why?

NELL: I don’t know!
VISITOR: Incorrect, you do know perfectly well.
NELL: I don’t.
VISITOR: It is as pain as the noise on your face.
NELL: I don’t know what you mean.
VISITOR: You were afraid to listen to your heart and not your head.
NELL: Yes, yes alright!
Silence.
A pause.
VISITOR: Let me be perfectly frank, Mrs. Visnevski. I have been

totally unable to find any proof of your husband’s existence beyond
that which you can provide. No one here in this area knew him, and
my other enquiries have proved equally fruitless. Plainly, as would
be obvious to a two year old child or to an Orangutan, if it was not
for your remembrance of your husband it would be as if he had
never existed at all.
NELL: Of course he existed – I was married to him wasn’t I?
VISITOR: That’s what you tell me. Do you know what I honestly
think? I think that you cannot accept the truth about your husband.
I think you are trying to reinvent him to hide the fact you no longer
really remember the truth about him at all.
NELL: No I remember. I do.
VISITOR: But what do you remember, reality or invention?
NELL: I don’t understand.
VISITOR: As I say, the Bureau’s investigations have been unable to

find any information relating to your husband, yet paradoxically we
have had no difficulty at all in finding out about your previous lover.
Don’t you think that is odd? Someone you insist so strongly
existed, a.k.a your husband, leaves no trace, while someone you say
you have actively tried to expel from your memory, a.k.a this Young
Man, proves such a visible entity?
NELL: I can’t explain it.
VISITOR: Perhaps I can. Let me put it another way, why do you now
apparently have little trouble in remembering the facts of your
relationship with this Young Man, while becoming increasingly
confused about the most elementary aspects of you husband’s life?
NELL: I remember my husband. I do, I do!
VISITOR: You think so? Clearly you do not. Your story about him
changes, haven’t you noticed that?
NELL: No, no it doesn’t.
VISITOR: Very well, since you persist in your evasion of the truth, let
us go over once again some of the supposed facts you have
provided pertaining to Mr. Visnevski.
NELL (Wearily): Oh please stop.
VISITOR: Where did you say he worked?
NELL: At the lumber mill.
VISITOR: Incorrect. Before you told me he worked at the steel mill,

then you told me the grain mill.
NELL: Did I? I must have forgotten.
VISITOR: Then where did he work after that?
NELL: Joe’s Truck Stop.
VISITOR: Incorrect. You said before Lou’s Truck Stop or Art’s Truck
Stop.
NELL: Did I? I don’t think I did?
VISITOR: Tall or short?
NELL: What?
VISITOR: Was your husband tall or short?
NELL: Short – NO, no he was tall, yes tall.
VISITOR: Short.
NELL groans.
VISITOR: How many years since he died?
NELL: Hum...
VISITOR: Quickly.
NELL: I don’t remember...
VISITOR: Quickly.
NELL: I’m all confused...
VISITOR: Quickly!
NELL: Twenty.
VISITOR: Incorrect. You said ten before.
NELL: I’m sure I didn’t.
VISITOR: It’s on the form! It’s there in black and white!
NELL: I told you I forget things! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
It’s this snow in my head...
VISITOR: Let us consider some of the other inconsistencies in your

statement shall we? For example, where is your husband’s cat?

This animal he professed to love? That apparently never left his
side?
NELL: Orpheus? I told you I don’t know. He must have gone out.
VISITOR: But how? You have no cat flap. Is this animal capable of
opening doors? Does he possess his own key as well?
NELL: Maybe he went out the window.
VISITOR: On the third floor? Oh I see, he has a parachute?
NELL (Calling desperately): Orpheus where are you?
VISITOR: Why do you think that you can remember an ex-lover from
forty-five years ago with more clarity than an animal you profess to
cohabit with on a daily basis?
Silence. NELL buries her face in her hands.
VISITOR: Let me be blunt. We can find no corroboration that you

actually married a man with the identification number you supplied
to the Bureau. Apart from the few scant memories you have offer to
substantiate him his existence appears to have all but faded to non-
existence. In fact, to all intents and purposes, this Mr. Visnevski
may as well never even have existed – as according to you his only
existential worth was as a device which allowed you to avoid
marrying a Young Man that loved you, and a means of escaping
from the region of The Lake. I believe the truth to be that it was
that Young Man whom fate intended you to marry and to be happy
with, but you allowed your unsubstantiated fears, your ‘chatter box’
to prevent you from fulfilling your, and his, destiny. I believe you
came here and buried yourself in some kind of fiction about your
husband, but that over the years this fiction has gradually dissolved
and Mr. Visnevski along with it. Hence the current lack of his
identification number. Moreover, I put it to you that now your mind
is simply playing tricks on you, deluding you with false memories of
having been happily married, to have been a doting wife, to have
been content, to have taken care of your husband’s cat, when in fact
the unpalatable truth is that you have long been, perhaps forever,
living a life of loneliness. Correct?
Silence.
VISITOR: Correct?
Silence.
VISITOR (Bangs his fist on the table): Answer me!
NELL (Suddenly looking up, terrified): Oh god!
VISITOR: What?
NELL: Oh my god maybe that’s why I was so afraid!
VISITOR: When?
NELL: When I first came here I was afraid, maybe it was because I
was alone!
VISITOR: What?
NELL: I don’t know anymore. What if you’re right about my

husband? What if he left me? Or what if he never existed! Or
what if he dissolved away! Then maybe I was left alone after all!
Maybe I was always alone!
VISITOR: Then confess the truth!
NELL: Oh God help me please! I can’t remember anymore...
VISITOR: CONFESS!
NELL (Screams): ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I DON’T KNOW

ANYMORE – I CAN’T REMEMBER MY HUSBAND!
NELL sinks back over the table, head in hands.
A long pause. Silence.

The VISITOR watches her for a time. He puts his

jacket on again, adjusts his appearance, and sits back at
the table. He is the complete professional once again.
He takes a paper from his briefcase and the pen from his
jacket pocket.
VISITOR (Pushing paper and pen towards NELL): If you wouldn’t

mind.
NELL looks up and at the paper dumbly.
VISITOR (Smiles): Your confession. Sign please.
NELL stares at the paper. She picks up the pen and

signs blindly.
VISITOR: Much thanks.
Slowly the light begins to fade at the table, while at the

same time growing in intensity over the bed Center
Stage.
After a while NELL pulls herself up from the table. She

stares at the bed, as one stares at an inevitable situation
they are ultimately forced to confront. Slowly she moves
towards the bed, the VISITOR slowly following her at a
distance. NELL carefully folds back the covers, climbs
in, and huddles herself under the blankets so that only
her face is visible. Throughout the remainder of the play
she never moves or speaks.
The VISITOR comes closer and stands at the top of the

bed, his hands on the frame, leaning over the bed slightly
and studying NELL.
VISITOR (Almost a whisper): This must have been very distressing

for you?
Silence.
VISITOR: The Bureau never intends to cause pain, but it is the nature
of the Bureaucratic beast, so to speak. It is the Bureau’s firm belief

that in the purging of self-delusion, however painful that may be we
are all the more free to rejoice and flourish in the truth. It is never
easy to confront that which we have long hidden ourselves from,
and as I warned you it would have been so much easier if you had
been willing to accept the truth from the outset. So much easier on
all concerned.
A pause.
VISITOR: You will receive a copy of my full report into this case in
due course. However in the meantime you will I am sure be happy
to learn that the Bureau is now completely satisfied with the
evidence you have provided concerning your husband’s
identification number and that the file will be amended accordingly.
As for you, given your final cooperation, I will recommend leniency
in any future sentence which may be imposed upon you.
(Corporate smile.) My work is done, and I shall be wishing you a
good day.
He makes to leave, then stops and looks back to NELL.

For once the VISITOR almost appears to feel
compassion for her.
A pause.
VISITOR: However, before I go, and if you will allow me, I am at

liberty to provide you with a little more information pertaining to
that Young Man we talked of. I told you before that he was locked
away and forgotten by society. But that was far from the end of his
story. You see I discovered more about him during my visits to The
Lake. Indeed he was incarcerated, but eventually, after many years,
he was so forgotten that one day he just wandered away from where
he had been confined and no one even notice. For many years he
wandered aimlessly, but eventually he returned to The Lake. After
all it was not only a place of sadness for him but also one at which
he had experienced true happiness, and I suppose that brought him
solace in a strange way. But when he returned no one there
recognized him – the passing of the years, and the pain and torment
of his mind had transfigured him. So the locals mostly let him be –
at least to begin with. But in time their attitudes towards him
changed. His actions began to draw considerable comment. You

see he would walk by The Lake, walking the same path every day
before eventually stopping at the familiar spot on the shore where
you and he had stood all those years before. Everyday the same –
never a word, but always standing, waiting, waiting... Eventually
he became almost famous – known to all as ‘the man that waited’.
People would come from miles around to look at him. He became,
it may be said, something of a curiosity. People would even take
their picture with him sometimes, and ask him all manner of
questions, to which, even if he did know the answers, he refrained
from making reply. He simply remained still, looking out over The
Lake to some far-distant point of convergence between the sky, the
land, and the water. And there he waited. He waited a very long
time. Too long some said. ‘Life goes on’ they told him, ‘You can’t
live in the past’. But that isn’t true is it? You know that. You can
live in the past perfectly well, and as life goes on we all live
increasingly in our memories of it. I suppose that is what they call
irony – the fact that, ultimately, all we are is the past. We are all, if
we did but know it, the stuff the past is made of.
A pause.
VISITOR: But I digress. As I say, he waited. He would stand by The

Lake and look out over the water. He would wait and look all the
time, even though he knew there was nothing to see, and nothing to
wait for. Then one day a curious thing happened. He simply
disappeared. No one knew where or why he had gone, but he just
vanished. And so his passing has remained a mystery until this day.
However, I believe that I know something of what must have
happened. I have pieced together the possible events which may
have led to this Young Man’s disappearance by, so to speak, placing
myself in his shoes. You see I believe that one evening, as he stood
on the shore, he quite inexplicably started walking towards the
water. Perhaps his eyes were no longer fixed so intently on the
horizon. Perhaps those sparkling lights from beneath The Lake had
finally begun to beckon him. Who can say? Whatever the reason,
he began to feel the water lapping about his feet, slowly moving up
his legs to his knees and waist. Then the cold of the water moved
to his chest and, as it took his breath away, for a moment he
hesitated – before slowly moving on again, once more fixed
steadfastly on his course. He raised his arms, out stretching them
like wings hovering over the surface water. Gradually he felt the
weightlessness of his body as his feet slowly lifted off of The Lake
bed. Then he relaxed and let the current take him, toying with him
at first like a leaf on the tide, then slowly, bit by bit, drawing him
down to the bottom of The Lake... down, down into the lights. A
strange sensation he thought, like going to sleep in a cold bed.
Cold, until the cold almost begins to feel warm, and to sooth, to lull,
and finally all is quiet. And there he lay for a while in his bed at the
bottom of The Lake. He had expected to lose all consciousness, but
in fact he continued to see and feel everything about him. And it
was then he noticed a curious sight. As he looked through the
foggy water he began to make out mysterious shapes, and
eventually he realized that all around him there lay the rotting
carcasses of many ships. Old ships from throughout the ages – lost
in storms and victims of the winter ice – their portholes, like so
many black eyes, staring at him through the grey half-light. He
walked to one of the ships and climbed upon its deck to explore, to
roam – his curiosity suddenly alive with both fear and wonder. He
moved on down into the ship’s silent heart, deep down through its
arteries and chambers, through its gangways and stairwells, until he
came to a great room. This room, he presumed, must have been the
Captain’s quarters, and there he spied a big black chair in the
corner, its old black leather now green with the slime of the deep.
So, with nothing else to do, he sat in the chair and after he was
comfortable, he began once more to wait. He sat and looked out
through the dark hollow eye of the ship’s skull, and waited... and
waited... and waited... In fact he has waited all this time, right up
until today...
A pause.
During his speech the VISITOR has made an

imperceptive retreat from the well of light and left the
auditorium. Only his voice remains, metaphysically
growing in omnipotent proportion to his physical
absence.
The lights slowly tighten so that only NELL’s face

remains illuminated.
VISITOR: So you see, after waiting so long, he will always be there

for you. Waiting for you. Had you but known it, you have never
had anything to fear. His love has never died for you, for yours has
never died for him. You see that is why he is still here and your
husband is not, for it is the undying love of another which continues
to make us exist. My function was simply to make you see that you
must remember the truth about where your love lies to find peace
with it. So why don’t you have a little sleep, sweet little Nell… a
little sleep… and sleep as long and as deeply as you like, for you no
longer have to be afraid and hide from your dreams. And in your
dreams return to your beginning – return to The Lake and your
imaginings of the future, with that Young Man that waits for you by
the shore where you will lie in love forever. Dream my little Nell…
and in your dreams he will always be waiting…
A pause.
Always…
A pause.
Always…
A pause.
Always be waiting for you.
The violin slowly dies away.
Long silence.
Fade to black.
Curtain.

© Andrew Novell 2005

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© Andrew Novell 2005,

Curtain Up. Stage is in darkness.

A room, empty but for an old wooden kitchen table center

After a few moments the door opens and NELL enters.

She turns on the light and closes the door, meticulously

NELL (Calling): Orpheus?

NELL: Orpheus, are you there sweetheart?

She considers for a moment.

NELL (To herself): I don’t remember him going out?

She shrugs and sits down heavily at the table, exhausted.

NELL: Oh Orpheus, this weather makes my old bones ache. It’s

NELL (Looking around again): Orpheus where are you?

NELL: Well I don’t know where you’ve got to.

She begins to rub her legs, trying to get the circulation

NELL: Oh come on, wake up legs! No time to go to sleep on me.

A pause. She smiles.

Her smile slowly fades and she appears to be feeling the

NELL (Nervously): Orpheus, where are you lover?

NELL quickly shakes her head and stands to start

NELL removes a can from the bag and holds it up to the

NELL (Reading): ‘Best Albacore Tuna. Produce of Buffin Island.

NELL (Calling): Orpheus?

NELL shrugs again and continues unpacking, removing

She finishes unpacking and sits down once more with

NELL (Calling): Orpheus?

NELL: Oh well, never mind.

NELL: Everything looked different somehow and I didn’t recognize

NELL (Quietly): My husband. My... husband. My...

NELL: Anyway where was I? Oh yes, I was telling you how I

A pause. NELL considers long and hard.

NELL: Then I turned the corner and… I began to remember some of

NELL: Now I wonder why that happened. What would make me

She puts her head in her hands. A pause.

A pause. NELL hugs her cardigan tightly about her and

NELL (Sleepy): Just a little catnap… forty winks...

As her head lulls, NELL appears to have nodded off to

Long pause and silence.

There is a knock at the door. NELL suddenly

NELL (Calling from a distance): Who’s there?

More knocking. A long anxious pause.

NELL goes to make a move towards the door, but then

NELL (Through the gap): Yes?

VOICE O/S: Mrs. Visnevski?

VOICE O/S: Is that Mrs. Visnevski?

VOICE O/S: May I have a word with you please?

NELL: What about?

VOICE O/S: It won’t take long.

NELL: What do you want a word with me about?

VOICE O/S: It concerns your husband, Mr. Visnevski.

NELL: Oh, but he’s dead.

VOICE O/S: Your husband.

NELL: I said he’s dead.

VOICE O/S: Yes. May I come in?

MELL (Confused): Well, I…

VOICE O/S: It is official business I am afraid.

A pause. NELL considers the situation, still obviously

VOICE O/S (Pressuring): I said it was official business Mrs.

NELL: Well... I suppose you’d better come in then.

She opens the door.

The VISITOR enters. He is a young man in his early to

VISITOR (Smiles broadly): Thank you.

VISITOR: Quite a climb.

VISITOR: The stairs.