The Last Post by Adam Watts & David Challenger
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This Play is the copyright of the Author and must not be Performed or Copied without the Author's prior consentACT ONE
Scene 1
The North of England - Present Day (2013).
The play begins before the curtain has even opened. Harry and his Son
enter the auditorium via one of the doors at the back. Harry is in his
late sixties - a Falklands War veteran with a no-nonsense outlook on
life. He appears to be a grumpy old man, but beneath the surface he is
a genuine and sincere character. Proud of his military background, he
always wears his medals.
Bickering can be heard almost at once and a spotlight will illuminate
the pair as they trudge down the aisle.
Once they begin their ascent of the stage steps, the curtains will
open to reveal the exterior of a building and a front door. There
should be a dilapidated sign showing the name of the retirement home
(possibly hanging down at one corner or bearing some form of
graffiti).
BARRY: Look Dad, we've been through this a thousand times and…
HARRY: Is this because the kitchen caught fire? It could have happened
to anyone Son… How do you know it was me anyway?
BARRY: It's not the first time Dad. How many other families on our
street have got the local fire station on speed dial?
HARRY: It's your fault for letting that so called Wife of yours buy
that new, electric cooker; you don't know when it's on or off.
BARRY: Don't bring Elaine into this. It's an induction hob. It's quite
simple; it glows red when it's on the boil.
HARRY: A bit like her then!
BARRY: (Not amused) Look, I'll try and visit every week. Pick you up
anything you need…
HARRY: You're putting me in a home and the only things you pick up in
there (points at front door) are bad habits and diseases… I'll
probably learn to become incontinent!
BARRY: (Aside) I thought you already were.
Harry has heard this and reacts accordingly. By this point Harry and
his Son should have reached the stage. They continue their debate
outside the front door of the home.
HARRY: The only time I did that was under the influence! You're not
too old to be given a slap my lad… I've killed men with these hands
Harry holds up his hands in a mock strangle hold.
BARRY: And yet now, you struggle to take the top off a bottle of milk
eh?
HARRY: They're tricky little buggers aren't they.
BARRY: (Aside and speaks in a boring manner) “Just like the
Argies…”
HARRY: Just like the Argies! If your Mother was alive - God rest her
soul - she wouldn't have let it come to this. Thrown on the scrap heap
after all I did for my country in her hour of need…
BARRY: (Sarcastically) Thatcher's Britain…
HARRY: It was. And a damn sight better than this shower running the
show nowadays!
BARRY: Don't start all that again Dad. That war was a long time ago,
we've moved on and so should you move with the times…
HARRY: That's the trouble with your generation son. You've all got
delusions of grandeur.
BARRY: Look Dad, just because I didn't follow in your footsteps and
join the army. Anyway I get paid more to sit behind a desk. I didn't
make the rules…
HARRY: (Changing the subject) Do you know if they have a bar?
BARRY: I doubt it, but I'm sure you'll find a way to get a drink… Do
you want me to come in with you?
HARRY: Bugger off! I can look after myself thank you very much…
Harry snatches his battered old suitcase from Barry and adjusts the
kit bag on his shoulder. Sarcastically saluting his Son, he clicks his
heels and turns to face the door of the building. Barry looks
dejected, but turns and leaves without speaking. He walks back up
through the auditorium.
Harry is reluctant to knock on the door and instead rummages in his
pocket for something. After a few seconds the door to the auditorium
can be heard opening. In response to this Harry leaves his luggage and
walks a few paces towards where his Son is leaving. He smiles a
sinister smile before jerking his arm upward into an, 'Up Yours'
gesture.
Turning abruptly he marches towards the door and bends to pick up his
luggage. At this point he feels a twinge in his back and drops the
suitcase. Harry presses the intercom button and states his name and
rank. There is a buzzing noise and the old man disappears inside.
The lights fade for a few seconds while a simple scenery change is
made.
They come back up to reveal a bedroom. There are two single beds, one
of which is occupied by Tom Oakes, a fellow resident. . Tom is usually
seen wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown. He is sat up reading a book.
Eva and Harry enter the room. Eva is always dressed smartly and has an
air of authority about her.
EVA: This will be your room Mr. Gunn.
Harry gazes briefly around the room, before his eyes rest on the man
in bed.
HARRY: There's already somebody in it.
EVA: Yes.
HARRY: Should there be?
The unidentified man lowers his book (“A History of Conflict”), nods
to Harry and then disappears inside the pages again.
EVA: Ordinarily Mr Gunn, no. But as I was explaining on our way
upstairs… We have a slight problem, so For the time being
HARRY: I remember. I'm not senile yet! And I prefer to use my formal
title of Major. Major Gunn if you please. I may not be an active
soldier anymore, but once you've earned the pips, you get to keep
the title for life.
EVA: (Lacking enthusiasm) Very well… Major Gunn, meet Mr. Oakes your
roommate.
Once again the man behind the book appears and nods, but this time
elects to speak.
TOM: Toms Oakes. Colonel Tom Oakes to be precise. Pleased to meet you
Major.
On hearing this Harry automatically drops his kitbag to the floor and
salutes in return. This is done as if a reflex action. The trouble is,
the bag has been dropped on Eva's foot. She shouts out in pain and
bends down to check for damage.
HARRY: Major Harold S. Gunn, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance
Sir!
TOM: No need for all that Soldier. Ranks mean very little in here… I
say - I don't think you've got off on the right foot with Eva.
HARRY: What's that?
At this point Harry turns and sees Eva bent over her damaged foot.
Without thinking he moves towards her.
HARRY: (Sarcastically) No need to curtsy Miss…
EVA: I'm not! You dropped your bag on my foot!
Tom is obviously aware of Eva's short fuse and quickly disappears
behind his book again.
EVA: (Wincing) You have arrived at a very difficult time Mr. Gunn.
HARRY: Oh, how rude of me! (Sarcastically) I can always come back
another time…
EVA: You were meant to be hear at two o'clock. Where is your Son?
He's supposed to be here with you!
HARRY: I sent him packing. I didn't need anyone to hold my hand at
Goose Green and I certainly don't now.
EVA: It's just that your Son made the arrangements and it is standard
procedure for our new residents to be accompanied on admission.
HARRY: Admission?! You make it sound like a hospital. There's nothing
wrong with me you know… By the way, do you have a bar here? I like
to take a drink every evening. Purely for medicinal purposes you
understand.
EVA: No we do not! We do not encourage residents to drink alcohol.
Harry appears crestfallen on hearing this.
HARRY: That's a shame Miss…?
EVA: It's Mrs actually! Mrs. Pereira.
There is a pause and a puzzled expression can be seen on Harry's
face.
HARRY: Doesn't sound very British…
EVA: That's because it isn't. Not that it is any of your concern Mr.
Gunn…
Harry looks at her in a questioning manner. He places his hands on his
hips.
EVA: Pereira is my husband's surname.
HARRY: Oh I see! Portuguese is he? Can't fault them myself.
EVA: Argentinean actually.
Harry is outwardly shocked by this and backs away from Eva.
EVA: We try and keep things informal here at Adelphi Lodge though, so
you can call me Eva.
Harry gasps and takes another step backwards. He bumps into something.
The something responds. Lance is a self- proclaimed war hero from the
conflict in Vietnam. An American with an accent from the deep south -
he appears to be the caretaker at the retirement home. Always dressed
in a stained boiler suit regardless of what time it is. He is carrying
Harry's suitcase.
LANCE: Hey! Watch where you're going!
Harry jumps forward in surprise.
HARRY: An American too?!
LANCE: Yes Sir! You got a problem with that? You were sure glad of us
in 44', but I don't recall any of you Brits in Nam…
Harry tries to square up to the abrasive American, but Eva steps
between them.
EVA: Gentlemen! Now is not the time. We are having enough difficulties
with the flooding… I apologise for any inconvenience, but until
things get sorted out, this will be your room Mr I mean Major.
LANCE: Major?
Lance starts to laugh.
LANCE: You mean this guy is an actual Major! Well I'll be damned!
Harry stares at Lance, before turning to face Eva.
HARRY: Your brochure never mentioned anything about being run by an
Argentinean… Or an indoor water feature.
Eva is losing her patience with Harry.
EVA: Are we going to have a problem?
HARRY: I suppose not.
Harry stares at Lance.
HARRY: Does he work here?
EVA: Who? Lance.
HARRY: (Sarcastically) No! I meant Che Guevara… Your husband!
LANCE: No, but I do.
HARRY: I wasn't talking to you.
Lance glowers, but does not react.
EVA: No. He doesn't work here. Why do you ask?
HARRY: Good. I saw enough Argies to last me a lifetime back in '82.
EVA: I'm sorry you feel that way. We don't like our residents to feel
intimidated.
HARRY: (Brashly) Not much intimidates me.
LANCE: You sure about that?
HARRY: Say that again…
The pair try once again to reach each other and this time Lance drops
the suitcase.
EVA: Owww!
HARRY: Now look what you've done. What is it with you Americans and
friendly fire?
LANCE: Take that back!
Tom coughs loudly and strategically. Harry and Lance stop feuding and
Eva finally regains her composure after hopping around on one foot.
EVA: (Sharply) Don't you have some pipes to look at Mr. Devaney?
Lance responds, but doesn't break eye contact with Harry.
LANCE: Yes Mrs. Pereira. I'm on it.
As he leaves, Lance draws a finger across his throat.
HARRY: (Sarcastically) Pleasant chap…
EVA: Ignore Lance, Corporal. I mean Major! You'll get used to him.
Now, please, make yourself at home. If there's anything you need,
press the nurse's call button and someone will be along as soon as
they can.
Harry nods and picks up his luggage.
HARRY: Thank you.
Eva leaves the room - As she does this a letter falls from her folder
/ clipboard. She doesn't notice and closes the door behind her. Harry
bends down (gingerly) to pick up the letter and does not hesitate in
opening it. Tom hears the ripping of paper and looks up from his
book.
TOM: I don't think you should be doing that… It could be private.
HARRY: Doing what? As far as anyone is concerned, this letter is
missing in action… (Pause) Hello! What do we have here?
TOM: I don't know. What do you have there?
HARRY: It's a letter.
TOM: I can see that… Who from?
HARRY: Williams, Allcock and Balls.
TOM: (Joking) Is he indeed? He must be very pleased with himself!
Harry looks at Tom quizzically.
HARRY: It's a law firm Colonel. I know them. They're dealing with my
Son… Bastards!
TOM: I say old man, that's a bit strong.
HARRY: Sorry… I'll read you a bit of it. See if you can make any
sense of it.
Harry returns to the letter.
HARRY: “Dear Mrs. Pereira… I am writing with regard to the current
situation at Adelphi Lodge Nursing Home”. As things stand, a period of
three months remain before appropriate measures will need to be
taken”.
TOM: Appropriate measures? I wonder what they mean by that?
HARRY: (Looking up) Why do they always talk in riddles these legal
people? I suppose it justifies the enormous fees they charge.
TOM: Whatever it means, it doesn't sound good.
HARRY: I like this next bit. Typical… (Back to letter) “May we also
take this opportunity to remind you that the fee for our services
remains unpaid. If you require any further assistance the amount must
be paid in full”. Charming.
TOM: You don't suppose our Eva is in a spot of bother do you?
HARRY: I don't know and I don't care. Look after number one, that's my
motto now… (Moving over to his bedside cabinet) It's a case of
having to be like that when everyone who you thought cared about you
shows their true colours.
Harry opens the drawer and places the letter inside. Tom returns his
attention the pages of his book.
HARRY: I think I'll file this, pending further investigation.
Harry wanders over to his room-mate's bed side and coughs. He sits on
the edge of his own bed, testing the mattress as he does so. Tom
lowers his book.
TOM: You don't seem to like Eva much do you?
HARRY: She has the same name as her who ran Argentina… I hate
Argies. I fought them at Goose Green…
TOM: Highly decorated?
Harry looks around the room.
HARRY: Looks pretty average to me, but I've bunked down in worse.
TOM: When they said I'd be sharing with someone I got excited.
HARRY: To exchange stories with a fellow man? A military one, the same
as yourself?
TOM: Oh no, not that… The thought of getting my leg over!
The two old men laugh together.
HARRY: Not so much, 'going over the top' as, 'getting on top' eh? Did
you have anyone in mind?
TOM: I know just the person, the problem is going to be convincing
her.
HARRY: Come on, who is she? One of the residents?
TOM: Good God no! They're probably all incontinent!
More laughter.
HARRY: There's a funny smell in here.
TOM: (Aggrieved) Well it's not me, if that's what you're thinking.
HARRY: Hmm… It is strange though. Can't you smell it?
TOM: My sense of smell went a long time ago.
Harry's thoughts are elsewhere as he answers. He is inspecting his
mattress.
HARRY: I'm sorry to hear that.
TOM: I'm not. I've seen some pretty bad things in here and that was
enough. Smelling them as well would turn a man's stomach and put him
right off his rations… And I like my grub!
Harry laughs at this and gives up the ghost of mattress inspection.
HARRY: So, what did they call you in the forces?
TOM: Oaksy. You?
HARRY: Tommy.
TOM: Hmm, that could get confusing. I think I'll stick to Harry, if
it's all the same to you?
HARRY: (Distant) I'll answer to anything… What is that smell? It
smells like formaldehyde!
Tom pauses and begins to sniff the air, before remembering he has no
sense of smell.
TOM: No idea.
HARRY: You sure you haven't…
TOM: No I haven't! Are you sure you haven't stood in something? You're
the only one of us that's been outside the perimeter today.
Harry inspects his footwear.
HARRY: Negative.
TOM: Good. Now, sit down… It's time for your debriefing Major.
Harry laughs and makes a joke.
HARRY: You're not having my briefs!
Tom doesn't see the funny side.
TOM: Why on earth would I want your underwear?
Harry carries on with the joke.
HARRY: I don't know. Maybe they're the currency in here…
TOM: The currency in here is anything Lance fancies. Indigestion
tablets are a goer at the moment. Ever since he got the ulcer.
HARRY: Lance? The handyman?
TOM: Don't let him hear you call him that. He prefers the title of
Janitor.
HARRY: Bloody American. What's his story anyway? He said something
about Vietnam.
Tom sighs.
TOM: It's true… Lance is also ex-military, but he's a different
breed. He claims he was in Vietnam.
HARRY: (Sarcastically) What, on holiday?
TOM: Fighting the Vietcong apparently.
HARRY: Are you being serious?
TOM: Look Harry, like him or not, Lance is our link to the outside
world. He keeps us informed and can get you pretty much anything you
need… For a price.
HARRY: I thought as much. He's a black marketer.
TOM: He has his uses, but he's not really a people person.
Harry is up and about again. He goes over to the wardrobe and sticks
his head inside. At this moment the lights go off and the room is
plunged into darkness.
HARRY: Bugger.
TOM: Must be eight o'clock.
HARRY: And?
TOM: It's lights out at eight.
HARRY: What is this? A Prison.
TOM: It's not all bad Harry. You're allowed your reading light on…
Tom can be heard rummaging around before a bedside lamp flicks on.
TOM: Harry?
The room appears to be empty. Tom reluctantly gets out of bed and
walks towards the bedroom door. As he reaches it and begins to turn
the handle, Harry jumps out of the wardrobe.
TOM: Good Lord! I could have had an accident there!
HARRY: Sorry Colonel, but you've got to keep your senses sharp.
TOM: (Breathless) You could have killed me!
HARRY: If I had wanted to do that, you'd be in the wardrobe yourself
by now…
TOM: (Disgruntled) I need the toilet now.
With this Tom opens the door to the en-suite bathroom, shakes his head
and leaves the room. Harry is now alone and decides to do a spot of
snooping. He is over on Tom's side of the room looking at family
photos in frames when Tom reappears.
TOM: False alarm… Hey! What do you think you're doing?
HARRY: Following my nose…
Tom has now reached his bed and waves his arm in a dismissive manner.
TOM: Well follow it somewhere else. This is my space.
Harry sits back down on his own bed.
HARRY: Do they visit much?
TOM: Who?
HARRY: (Sarcastically) Lizzie and Phillip! Your family man.
TOM: (Solemnly) Not any more.
Tom reaches across to his bedside table and picks up a photo. He
stares at it intently.
HARRY: (Sincerely) I'm sorry.
TOM: It's okay.
HARRY: How long have you been here?
TOM: Coming up for four years now…
HARRY: I suppose they're bound to forget about you sooner or later.
With my Barry It'll be the sooner the better.
Tom puts the photo back before speaking.
TOM: Your son?
HARRY: Unfortunately…
TOM: You don't mean that. It's difficult for them too you know.
Harry is quiet for a while. Tom tries in vain to return to his book.
HARRY: So what are the staff like?
TOM: Generally they're all right. Don't confide in them though. They
take everything straight back to Eva.
HARRY: Oh?
TOM: It's a bit embarrassing actually.
Tom puts down his book and begins to recall the incident.
TOM: Last week, I woke up in the middle of the night and things
were… moist.
HARRY: A bit of a sweat on? Well it is the height of summer. Did you
have the window open?
TOM: You must be joking. We're allowed a couple of inches at the
most.
HARRY: (Jokingly) A couple of inches can make all the difference…
Tom doesn't acknowledge the joke and presses on with his explanation.
TOM: They've got restricted latches on them. To deter intruders they
tell us, but I reckon it's to stop us from trying to escape! It
wasn't that though… Someone had poured water on me as I slept.
Harry looks bemused.
HARRY: Why would anyone want to do that?
TOM: Revenge.
HARRY: I can think of far more effective methods…
TOM: Not in here you can't. You didn't let me finish the story. If
you're found guilty of bed wetting in here, they whisk you down to the
sick bay and put you in… (he gulps) incontinence pants.
Tom shudders at the thought and Harry pats him on the shoulder
sympathetically.
TOM: Not only do you have to endure the discomfort, you lose what
little respect anyone might have had for you.
HARRY: (Firmly) Not on my watch Colonel.
TOM: It's devious that's what it is… Beg your pardon?
HARRY: We're going to catch the perpetrator. You and me.
Tom looks excited at the idea, quickly followed by apprehensive.
TOM: How?
HARRY: First things first old chap. Who do we suspect?
TOM: My money is on Lance.
HARRY: I should have known. I didn't like him from the offset. But why
would he want revenge?
TOM: Let's just say he's a terrible poker player. I beat him a few
weeks ago and won some Steradent from him, he hated it. You should
have seen the look on his face.
HARRY: I see.
Harry stands up and begins to pace up and down.
HARRY: We'll need to do some reconnaissance. You know the inmates
better than I do. Got anyone in mind? Someone you can trust with a bit
of espionage?
TOM: Hmm… There's Billy Churchill.
HARRY: Good, solid name. Who's Billy Churchill?
TOM: He's one of our longest standing residents… Well, longest
sitting. He's in a wheelchair now - poor sod.
HARRY: He sounds ideal. If there's something fishy going on, he'll
know will he?
Tom has an after thought. Harry sees his expression change.
HARRY: What is it?
TOM: Thinking about it. He probably isn't the best candidate…
HARRY: Why not?
TOM: Well… You know how you haven't seen him yet?
HARRY: Yes? Probably keeping tabs on someone, right?
TOM: (Reluctantly) They found him an hour ago, trapped in the
allotment shed.
Harry flops back down onto the bed.
HARRY: Come again…
TOM: He was trying to find the day room and got… Lost.
HARRY: I don't believe this. Why would you suggest someone like that?
TOM: Be fair Harry. He used to work for the town council in the
planning department and before that he was a code breaker for MI5.
HARRY: (Sarcastically) You sure it wasn't flat-pack assembly for MFI?
TOM: It's not his fault that he went a bit mad, lost 75% of his
eyesight and ended up in one of the nursing homes he gave planning
permission to.
Harry pours himself a glass of water from the jug on the bedside
table.
HARRY: We need a Plan B.
TOM: We could set a trap…
HARRY: Interesting. I like a good ambush.
TOM: We could lie in wait, pretend to be asleep and then catch the
bugger in the act.
HARRY: Good, good… I like it! Give me chance to get ready for bed
and we'll reconvene here at 21:00 hours. Synchronise watches.
Tom rolls back his sleeve to reveal nothing but his arm.
TOM: That might be a bit difficult.
HARRY: Where's your watch?
TOM: On Lance's arm. It's collateral against my gambling debts at
the bookmakers.
[end of extract]
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