Somewhere, late afternoon, before sunset

Syn­chron­ise watches. Just nod if you’re syn­chron­ised. Okay. Good. So. I think we could be there by mid­night, if we leave now. I really want to be there by midnight.

Mid­night, there or there­abouts. Depend­ing on where we end up. Yes, I like drain­ing my last drink dry come the witch­ing hour, then fall­ing into bed in a drunken stupor.

Though it depends where you’re think­ing of going. Per­son­ally, I long to see Ice­land. Vodka like you wouldn’t believe. I could set fire to my tongue with a cigar­ette lighter as we drank it. Plus, I know a few gey­sers there.

[Beat]

No, please, not Ice­land. I’m not big on fish. What about Bel­gium? I’ve always fan­cied going there. I’m not sure why. I think it might be some­thing to do with pastries.

Bel­gium it is, then. I’m easy. As long as they have vodka.

Or Lon­don. Ah, the cul­ture. The buzz. The his­tory. The hid­den pas­sage­ways. The black cabs and the red buses and the -

The vodka? What about Bel­gian pastries? And puffins?

Lots of vodka. Not sure about its tongue-burning prop­er­ties, but we can exper­i­ment. Pastries. Yeah, prob­ably. Puffins. Puffins, well, I’m not so sure, to be honest.

[Beat]

You should come over here. Here, that’s right. Stand there. Care­ful now. Right. Okay. You okay?

I’m okay. What’s up with you?

I need to show you some­thing. I’m sorry. You might be a little shocked. Will you open your eyes for me?

Do I have to? I’m get­ting to a really good bit in my head. If I open my eyes I might miss it.

It’s for the best, really. Go on. Open your eyes. For me. Please.

[Beat]

Is that — ?

Lon­don. Yes.

[Beat]

Sorry. I should have let you keep your eyes closed. I knew it.

No. It’s fine, you know? So.

So. It’s big, isn’t it? It stretches in all dir­ec­tions, and then some.

I can tell. It’s hurt­ing my neck to look, in fact. But yes, it’s big. Lon­don. There it is. it’s kind of — grey, too. Looks like it could do with a good hoovering.

You’re so practical.

[Beat]

It’s not quite what you were expect­ing, is it?

I was expect­ing more Chelsea pen­sion­ers. Mary Quant dresses. Red buses and black cabs. Pos­sibly the Rolling Stones run­ning down the King’s Road, away from hordes of scream­ing teen­age girls You know, like in the movies.

Oh. Well, the Stones are a bit old now. And most of the pen­sion­ers are dead.

I can’t pre­tend I’m not a little dis­ap­poin­ted. I was led to believe —

I know. That was your first mis­take. You won’t do that again, will you?

[Beat]

Hey, can I ask you to do some­thing for me now?

Any­thing. It’s the least I could -

Open your eyes too. Go on.

You’re just ask­ing me to do it because I asked you first. And you’re regret­ting it. It wasn’t my fault. I just thought it would be easier for you to look. You’re more groun­ded, more stable. Calmer and -

Just do it. Please.

[Beat]

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You deserve that. For mak­ing me go first.

Fuck.

So you said. And as I said, you deserve it.

[Beat]

You know the phrase — that phrase — ‘wake up and smell the coffee’?

Yeah. I know it. It’s one of my favour­ite phrases, after ‘you can’t make an omelette without break­ing eggs’. So I don’t see why I should wake up, espe­cially as I can’t smell any cof­fee brewing.

I don’t have any. Not even instant. I’ve got vodka, though. Icelandic vodka. Bought from -

A puffin?

Close. An Icelandic vodka seller. In Walthamstow.

Amaz­ing. Who knew such things exis­ted? Even in Waltham­stow. We should never leave here. Not with every mod­ern con­veni­ence like that on our doorstep.

You’re prob­ably right, you know. Except I really do fancy going some­where. Shrug­ging off this city grime and breath­ing dif­fer­ent air, see­ing new places, being a changed per­son just for a little while.

[Beat]

Got it.

What? What have you got? Tell me.

Where we’re going. What we’re going to see and do and be and think. And all that wide blue yon­der crap.

[Beat]

Yes? So?

Bel­gium and Ice­land and Lon­don — the Great Pyr­am­ids of Egypt, come to that — I’ve always wanted to see those places. Those kinds of places. I mean, who hasn’t? But I’ve always wanted to go to the end of the cor­ridor, too.

The end of the cor­ridor? There’s a thought.

[Beat]

Do you reckon we could still be there by midnight?

Yes, I’m sure of it. We could be there on the dot of mid­night, in fact. Right in time for the witches and the drunken stupor. But we would have to move much more slowly. Almost imper­cept­ibly, in fact. Just in case someone catches us.

We could do that, espe­cially if -

We closed our eyes again. Yes. I was think­ing exactly the same thing.

Yeah?

Yeah.

[Beat]

Vodka?

Got it. A full bottle.

Watches?

Still syn­chron­ised. Or as good as we’ll need where we’re going.

Hand?

What?

Take my hand. We need to hold hands for this. Safer. For the best, I think.

Yeah, you’re right. As ever.

[Beat]

Ready to close your eyes again, then?

Never been more ready. I’ve had it with looking.

Me too. it was fun. But, well, you know. Been there, done that, seen the t-shirt.

Right. I’m clos­ing mine. Now.

I’m clos­ing mine too.

Closed?

Closed. And closed. Both of them. For good. For now. Or at least until the next time. Whenever that might be. Whenever.

Hold very tight, won’t you? Very, very tight.