An Episode of Remnants.

Episode Content Warnings

Please bear in mind that this work has content some listeners may find distressing, including themes of war, violence, and grief. This episode contains:

Mentions of an an adult having an inappropriate relationship with a minor (aged 16)

Misogyny

Sex negativity

Pregnancy

Blood

Yelling

Controlling behaviour

Transcript

APPRENTICE
Hmm? What was that? Sir?

NOTHING.

APPRENTICE
Okay then. I suppose.

HE MOVES, PAPER RUSTLING

APPRENTICE
What the fuck?

MORE MOVEMENT, PAPER FALLING TO THE GROUND. THE APPRENTICE COUGHS.

APPRENTICE
Dusty letters, where the hell did they even…?!

DISTANT SCUTTLING

APPRENTICE
Hello?! Who’s there?!

NOTHING.

THE APPRENTICE MOVES AGAIN, PAPER RUSTLES.

APPRENTICE
More envelopes. They’re sort of… in a line. A trail?

THE APPRENTICE TAKES A FEW TENTATIVE STEPS BETWEEN WORDS. .A SOUND OF CRACKLING FLAMES GROWS WITH EACH ONE.

APPRENTICE
Where am I? I don’t recognise this… when did I get here? I. Huh. It’s funny, you know. I don’t recognise most of it, not exactly, but it feels familiar. Not here, though. Here is. Different.

FOOTSTEPS. FURNACES ARE BURNING. FLAMES FLICKER.

APPRENTICE
Hmm. I feel like– I. I don’t. Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t follow these letters. I think it’s. I think this place might be… private?

SCUTTLING

APPRENTICE
Hello? I– I shouldn’t. But. Why do I feel like I need to?

CRACKLING FIRES GET LOUDER AS THE APPRENTICE WALKS ON.

APPRENTICE
That’s it. The end of the trail.

SCUTTLING, MUCH CLOSER THIS TIME.

APPRENTICE
Hello? Is anyone there?

A SOFT THUNK.

APPRENTICE
Ow!

A STONE CLATTERS TO THE GROUND.

APPRENTICE
A heart-shaped stone? Wait, didn’t I throw you into a giant hole?

THE APPRENTICE CROUCHES AND LIFTS THE STONE, RUBBING HIS THUMB OVER IT.

APPRENTICE
Maybe I should read you–

SAND FALLS TO THE GROUND.

APPRENTICE
Oh, it just… disintegrated. Into dust.

A SCUTTLING VERY NEARBY. THE APPRENTICE GASPS.

APPRENTICE
I know you’re there! Show yourself!

CLUNK

APPRENTICE
A fountain pen?

FOOTSTEPS

APPRENTICE
Did you… write? The letters? Hmm. Maybe I should open one?

PAPER MOVES, TEARS.

APPRENTICE
Oh it– it’s all been crossed out. I can’t read a single one of them!

Hang on, this pen. Is this the same ink?

SCRATCH OF A PEN NIB AGAINST PAPER.

APPRENTICE
Yeah? I think. Maybe?

MORE SCRATCHING.

APPRENTICE
I don’t– don’t– I think– I think—

A WHOOSH. BIRDSONG.

Pearl’s sister is ahead of her, long blonde curls catching in the sunlight. Pearl’s hair is tied back in a bun.

‘I’m going to dance in Russia, Pearl,’ Eliza says, twirling as the reach the top of the garden. ‘I’m going to be the most famous ballerina in the world.’

Pearl believes her. Eliza is the younger of the two, but they’re not a full year apart in age. Pearl is smaller, slower, more brunette than her sister. Though she practices far harder, Eliza is the more gifted dancer, as their mother is always swift to say. Pearl would settle for a spot in the corps de ballet, a solo maybe now and then. But Eliza, she could easily be a prima ballerina, Pearl thinks.

‘I can’t see any rabbits,’ says Eliza, stopping her twirling.

‘They were here yesterday,’ says Pearl.

‘Maybe they’ve gone away,’ says Eliza.

‘Where to?’ says Pearl.

‘On holiday,’ says Eliza.

‘Don’t be stupid, Liza, rabbits don’t go on holiday. Maybe daddy shot them all for dinner,’ says Pearl.

Eliza squeals. ‘Oh Pearl! You are horrid.’ She gasps. ‘There! By the hydrangeas!’

‘I see it!’ Pearl whispers. ‘Quiet or you’ll scare him off!’

The rabbit is small, grey-brown. There’s copious fluff at the base of his long ears. He looks young, eyes too big for his down-soft head.

‘I wish mummy would let us keep some for pets,’ Eliza sighs.

‘Don’t be stupid, Liza’ says Pearl, again. ‘They’re full of diseases.’

‘How can they have diseases?’ Eliza protests. ‘They’re so cute!’

‘Harry Bainbridge down the street was cute too, but he had scarlet fever. He killed three maids and his own sister.’

‘That’s true,’ says Eliza,. She sighs. She lays down on the grass, twisting her hands into her shining hair.

Pearl lies down too, looking away from her sister at the rabbit. He looks back, his eyes wide and oddly knowing. She takes out her pocket book and starts to draw him, a scribbly sketch. She wonders what he sees when he looks back at her.

A WHOOSH. WIND IN THE TREES.

Pearl clutches the spray bottle in her hand as her mother inspects the orchids. ‘These ones will die,’ she says. ‘but the ones over at the back are perfect.’

Pearl beams. She gently brushes the edge of one of the blooms with her finger, revelling in the velvety softness of the petals. They are strange flowers; it’s a part of what she likes about them. They look like a creature from another world, something friendly and open about the spread of their petals that seems to peer at Pearl eagerly like a young dog who adores its master.

‘Hurry now, or we’ll be late for Eliza’s show,’ says Pearl’s mother.

Pearl sighs and heads upstairs to comb her hair out.

Eliza is dancing with a real theatre company. It’s not proper ballet, it won’t help her get a place at ballet school, but Pearl must begrudgingly admit it is very exciting.

Pearl neatly arranges her cropped short hair and puts on a headband, admiring herself in the mirror for a moment before heading downstairs. Her mother pats her on the head. ‘Acceptable,’ she says.

At the theatre, they sit in one of the boxes. Pearl’s mother speaks and laughs like a bell with one of the men who has paid for the production. Pearl’s father sips whiskey from short glass, shaking his head fondly at her now and then.

He pats Pearl on the shoulder. ‘There there old girl, your time in the limelight will come,’ he says.

Pearl swallows hard and looks down at the red velvet curtains on the stage. If her time in the limelight involves such indignities as cabaret, she’d rather it didn’t come at all.

WHOOSH. WIND THROUGH CRACKS IN A WINDOW.

The door to their bedroom slams shut, stirring Pearl from her sleep. The beads on Eliza’s dress shimmer in the pale light coming through the curtains and make a bright, sparkly sound as she moved.

‘Pearl? Are you awake?’ Eliza whispers, giggling.

Pearl shuffles over on her mattress, making space for her sister to cram in beside her. Her arms are cold, her dress scratchy. She smells of wine and cigarettes and powdery perfume.

‘Where were you?’ Pearl whispers.

‘At a party,’ Eliza whispers back. ‘It was magical! I met the most wonderful man.’

Pearl rolls closer to her sister. ‘A man?’

‘Oh yes. He’s so romantic, and he let me have so much champagne even though—’

‘Liza, mummy and daddy will be so furious when they find out! If they find out you went out dressed like this, you’ll be—’

‘It’s my costume from the show, they know I have it,’ says Eliza.

‘You look like a lady of the night!’ says Pearl.

Eliza snorts with laughter. ‘Pearl! Don’t be so ridiculous. Come on.

There’s a knot of worry in the pit of Pearl’s stomach. She smooths Eliza’s hair. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful,’ she whispers.

Eliza clucks her tongue and sits up and away from her sister. ‘That’s your problem, you know? You don’t know how to have fun. You’re so worried about doing something wrong you end up not doing anything at all.’

Eliza lifts her dress over her head and drops it to the ground, the sound like a sudden burst of heavy rain. She slips into her own bed in her slip and stockings.

‘Mummy will be angry if she sees you’ve left that there.’

‘Goodnight, Pearl,’ Eliza hisses, pulling her blankets over her head.

Pearl sighs. She gets out of bed, lifts the costume dress and puts it back into the wardrobe. She gets into bed.

‘Night, Liza,’ she whispers.

‘Thanks,’ Eliza huffs.

WHOOSH. RAINFALL.

‘Happy birthday!’ Eliza squeals, jumping onto the end of Pearl’s bed and waking her up. The light is thin and grey; it’s very early.

Eliza is beaming. ‘Here,’ she says, thrusting a box towards Pearl.

Pearl sits up. She unties the expensive organza ribbon and opens the box. Inside is a gleaming fountain pen, its pearlescent body inlaid with gold patterns, marking out the shapes of orchids.

‘Liza. This is beautiful,’ she says, running her finger along the gold.

‘Christian helped pay for it. I picked it out,’ says Eliza, beaming.

Something twists in Pearl’s stomach. She puts the lid back on the box and gets out of bed.

‘What?’ says Eliza.

‘You know what I think of that man,’ says Pearl.

‘Oh, Pearl! He’s so kind, so sweet. If you’d just give him a chance.’

‘He’s three times your age and his wife just had a son!’ says Pearl.

Eliza is quiet for a moment. ‘He says he’s going to leave her,’ she says.

Peal sighs frustratedly. ‘How many times has he told you that, Liza?! He is never going to leave her! Have you seen her? She’s every bit as beautiful as you, and she’s actually a grown up.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ says Eliza.

‘You’re a child, Liza!’ says Pearl.

‘I’m only eleven months younger than you,’ says Eliza.

‘I’m a child too! Seventeen, as of eight hours and twenty two minutes ago. Just because you play a woman on stage doesn’t make you one in real life. You’re just a girl. Does he even know?’

‘Know what?’ says Eliza.

‘That you only turned sixteen a month ago!’ says Pearl.

‘No!’ Eliza hisses, tears spilling over her pink cheeks. ‘It doesn’t matter, he wouldn’t care.’

‘So tell him! Honestly, if you’re right and it doesn’t bother him, I like him even less. What is he? Thirty five?’

‘Thirty eight in June,’ Eliza sniffles, scrubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘What does it matter, Pearl? We’re in love!’

‘You are not in love!’ says Pearl.

Eliza looks as though she has been slapped. ‘How dare you,’ she says.

‘It’s the truth!’ says Pearl.

‘I hope today is wretched,’ says Eliza. She grabs her clutch bag and her kid gloves from the top of the dresser.

‘Where are you going?’ asks Pearl.

‘Out!’ Eliza hisses. She storms from the room and slams the door behind her.

WHOOSH. THE STILL AMBIENCE OF AN EMPTY HOUSE.

The house is much quieter without Eliza. It’s not just her chatter and laughter that’s gone, but her piano practice, the soft, rhythmic thuds of her shoes on the floors in the dining room when she practiced her dancing. Each morning, Pearl wakes a looks at the empty bed across the on other side of her bedroom and sees it neatly made and empty.

Sometimes, Pearl dreams that Eliza comes home in the middle of the night, tipsy, laughing, full of stories. When Pearl wakes up in the morning, she scribbles what details of the dreams she can remember into her pocket book. It’s daft, she knows, but somehow she feels that the Eliza in her dreams is somehow real, reaching across the night to fill her in on details of her life.

The reason it’s daft because Pearl knows Eliza does not want to speak to her, or their parents. If she did, she’d write. No letters come in the post, no postcards, no packages, nothing to say where Eliza is, if she’s okay, or even alive.

Mummy and daddy beg Pearl to tell them if she knows where her sister has gone, but she doesn’t know what to say. Christian and his young wife, Maud, are a family friends; they’d be devastated to know their daughter was trying to break up their marriage. Beyond that, Christian’s a military man. He might even lose his rank and title if the army found out he’d been unfaithful. Christian and Maud have two young children, it would be awful if that were to happen.

And of course there’s the issue of Eliza herself. She might be loose but she’s at least had the sense to be discreet. For now, she’s a runaway. There’s no sense she’s a ‘fallen woman’. As long as Pearl stays quiet, when Eliza comes back she’ll be just as marriageable as before she left.

Sometimes Pearl is quietly furious at what she knows and does not tell. How much her foolish little sister has come to owe her. How taken for granted she is, for Eliza to not even write to her to say thank you. If it were not for Pearl, Eliza would have been disowned three times over, and a good man with a wife and two children would have his life torn asunder.

It seems fate truly wishes to punish the most innocent and virtuous and let the reckless and feckless live however they wish, without burden, Pearl thinks.

WHOOSH. REALLY HEAVY RAIN.

It’s raining so hard that Pearl cannot see through the windows at the train station, but she hears the train pulling in. She gets to her feet, dusting off her dark coat and takes a steadying breath before she steps outside. She holds onto her hat in the torrential downpour, strolling through the puddle that has become of the station platform.

It’s busy and everyone is wearing dark coats but none of these people look like Eliza.

It’s been two years since Pearl last saw her, maybe she looks so different there’s no point in trying to see her face, but–

‘Pearl?’ Eliza sounds exactly like herself.

Pearl whirls around to see her sister standing in a pink raincoat. She flings her arms around her despite the sogginess of their attire, and then jumps back from her, looking down at the hard protrusion of Eliza’s stomach.

Pearl gasps. ‘You’re with child.’

Eliza laughs tearfully. ‘Oh Pearl. I’ve got myself into ever such a horrible mess.’

In the car ride to their parents’ house, Eliza tells Pearl about her adventures, how Pearl was right, Christian was never going to leave his wife. He’d paid for her to stay in London for a few months, and she’d found some work there, but it was not the life she’d imagined for herself.

She’d fallen in with an odd crowd. They were remarkably generous, particularly when they found out Eliza was a Grenville.

She’d been introduced to a man named Harry. He had seemed so kind and generous. She was fascinated by him and how he took his tea, brewed with dried oranges. He took Eliza with him on on all sorts of trips. He seemed to have an apartment or house in every city in Europe.

‘So the baby is his, then?’

Eliza laughs, like a peel of bells. ‘Oh no, Harry is a man of very different tastes to me.’ Eliza would say no more on the parentage of her child.

Their own parents were away for the winter at their house in France. No need to write to tell them about Eliza. From the looks of things, she’d have the baby by Christmas and she’d be right as rain come spring when mummy and daddy came back and they’d be none-the-wiser. They’d be so glad to have their special girl home they’d not bother to ask for any details.

WHOOSH. BIRDSONG.

Pearl wakes to a blood curdling scream. She rushes down the stairs towards the sound of it. Eliza is standing in the drawing room. Her silk nightdress is stained red from the waist down as she stands there, feet shoulder’s width apart, liquid dripping from between her legs—

SIR
(booming, echoic)
Enough.

A MUFFLED BOOM, A SOUND OF SCATTERING DUST. THE BIRDSONG MELTS AWAY. THE APPRENTICE MAKES A STRANGLED SOUND OF PAIN, GASPS, AND IS SILENT.

SIR
Fool. What paper trails have led you here? How did I not see them?

THERE IS ONLY QUIET.

SIR
Apprentice?

A LOW, REVERBERANT HUM. SCATTERING DUST. THE APPRENTICE GASPS AND CHOKES VIOLENTLY.

SIR
Fool!

APPRENTICE
(still choking, extremely hoarse)
You’re angry.

SIR
Yes.

APPRENTICE
(weak, but not as desperate)
But you said my task is to read the remnants, you said—

SIR
If you are lost, look for signs! I have left them for you!

APPRENTICE
(his voice cracking at the edges)
There’s something else in here with us, isn’t there?

SIR
Something?! Something.

A FURIOUS HUM, A WHIPPING WIND. AS SIR SPEAKS, THE APPRENTICE BREATHES HEAVY AND FRIGHTENED.

SIR
This is a place beyond your reckoning. What you see is your limitation, what smoke and mirrors your feeble mind conjures to make sense of all there is. Layers and layers beyond what dream like yours can fathom. Depths so dark your tiny mind would see them as light. Stay on the path. Follow the signs. Do not listen to the dark when it whispers to you. Do not go where you hear the furnaces roar. Do you understand?

APPRENTICE
(gasping)
I– I–

SIR
Do you understand me?!

APPRENTICE
I’m– I’m trying to–

SIR
UNDERSTAND ME.

A MASSIVE, DEEP WHOOSH AND A BRIGHT HISS, LIKE SAND AGAINST GLASS, LIKE A RUSH OF WIND, LIKE A FLAP OF MASSIVE WINGS. THE TINY FLUTTERING OF A THOUSAND MOTHS. THE VAST, CHURNING RHYTHM OF A SPACE SO LARGE IT CANNOT BE FATHOMED. THE APPRENTICE GASPS. WHEN THEY SPEAK, THEIR VOICES ECHO AND REVERBERATE.

APPRENTICE
What– what are– what are you?!

SIR
BEYOND YOU.

APPRENTICE
I— I— I– there’s so much, I– I can’t— I– you’re– you’re so— you’re so — it’s all so beautiful.

THE WING BEATS STOP.

SIR
What?

INCREMENTALLY THE OTHER SOUNDS FALL AWAY, THE LAST ONE BEING THE TINY FLUTTERING OF MOTH’S WINGS.

APPRENTICE
(muttering)
All that light, all that space, galaxies and galaxies and galaxies and fire forever and —

SIR
Hush.

APPRENTICE
— forever and dreams and dreams and dreams and stars and oceans and oceans and oceans–

SIR
Apprentice.

THE APPRENTICE GASPS. IT’S QUIET, NOW, BUT FOR A LOW, BASSY HUM.

APPRENTICE
How– how can you– you’re not a thing that could– but we’re touching.

SIR
We aren’t. But to you it feels as though we are. You should not have seen so much. I should have been more careful.

APPRENTICE
But I’m glad I saw, that I know, that you–

SIR
No. This is the longest you’ve lasted in a while. I had begun to hope, perhaps…

APPRENTICE
But I saw! You are so much. So beautiful, but– ah.

SIR
Yes. I feel it coming, too. Like headlights on a dark road.

APPRENTICE
Oh. What are you talking about?

SIR
We are fixed like rabbits on the tarmac. Can you feel the rumble on your cotton-soft paws?

APPRENTICE
Ah, oh, my head. Ah!

SIR
Don’t be afraid. It will be over soon.

APPRENTICE
Let me see. Let me see you again.

SIR
Selfish as I am I cannot allow it.

APPRENTICE
I don’t know what you– ah. Fuck. That woman, in the Remnant. Blood. Blood– I– ah. I can’t– am I– is there blood– oranges— fuck. Fuck, I feel like… like I— I– there’s so much—

THE APPRENTICE MAKES A STRANGE, LONG, GARGLING CROAK OF PAIN

SIR
Ah. It is struck. I’m sorry.

THE APPRENTICE LETS OUT A LONG, LOW WHINE, BREATHING HARD. DUST IS CRUMBLING AROUND THEM.

SIR
I should not have let things go so far.

APPRENTICE
There’s so much, so– so— dead, dead, dead, dead, dead—

SIR
Don’t worry. I will help.

APPRENTICE
Help me, help me.

SIR
Hush now.

APPRENTICE
There’s so– I don’t– my head.

SIR
Look at me. These are just passing shadows. Forget, my Apprentice. Forget.

THE APPRENTICE SIGHS WITH PROFOUND RELIEF.

EVERYTHING HANGS QUIET.

THEN, A WHOOSH.

THE QUIET CHANGES TEXTURE JUST A LITTLE.

THE APPRENTICE MAKES A SMALL, SLEEPY SOUND OF DISCOMFORT.

SIR
There you are. I have you.

APPRENTICE MOANS SOFTLY, HAPPILY

SIR
Look alive.

THE APPRENTICE INHALES SHARPLY

SIR
Are you listening?

APPRENTICE
(groggily)
Yeah, what was I… where, why am I…?

SIR
(sadly)
This is the First and Last Place. You’ve taken the job, that’s why you’re here.

APPRENTICE
Oh, I think– it hurts.

SIR
For now, Apprentice, you should sleep.

[END]

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