PIERS. I think – (pause) I’m very happy.

(Beat) I’m happy because you seem to have recognised that

there is nothing for you to say. What happened, happened and… (He strains a smile) here we are.
(Beat) To your question as to whether I hate you. I certainly wish you weren’t here. I know that
much. GRACE. Piers, shall we – PIERS. I wish that only because your being here is as an indirect result
of my son’s murder. (Beat) So you see that the very nature of you makes me wish that we had never
come into contact. Do I hate you? No. There’s an incredible pain and I don’t think that’s likely to ever
leave. But you gave his life direction and a purpose that he greatly valued. (Beat) We must thank you
for that.

Side 2

PIERS.

He doesn’t care about order, peace and functionality. (Beat) You know, for a split second there it felt
as if everything was going to be alright. How could I have been so stupid? (Beat) Eleanor, this young
man is poison. Let me qualify that. (Beat) He’s been running the same line ever since Mark didn’t
come home: ‘my brother’s death fucked me up.’ I’ve never actually heard him say it aloud but
believe me, it’s been his guiding principle in recent times. Want to know the truth? He was poison
long before my son died and he may well have many years of poison up ahead. (Beat) The question I
ask myself from time to time is: why couldn’t it have been you who got the itch to go off and fight?
Eh? (PIERS retrieves the bottle of red wine and a glass.) PIERS. Here’s the game plan: I’m going for a
lie down upstairs. (Beat) Eleanor, you can leave now if you like. Leave little Billy alone in the kitchen.
He’ll let himself out. Done it enough times before. He’ll probably nick whatever he can on the way
out! (Beat) Or you can stay. Chat to him. Listen to his crap. The choice is yours. To be completely
honest with you both (beat) I don’t give a shit. (Beat) Don’t worry about him. He’s a coward. A little
weasel. Fucking junkie. How he ever came to be a son of mine I’ll never know