The Night Has Eyes Page #3

They .. they never found her body.

These moors are like quicksand.

They never give up their dead.

You're telling me. They wouldn't

even give up my shoes.

I thought I had to come.

I have to say goodbye to her here.

I have to see if perhaps by some miracle

I may be able to find out where she died.

You may have read about it at the time.

No, we never get the papers here. This

house is almost cut off from the world.

Of course!

Of course?

I remember where I

heard your name before.

You're Stephen Deremid, the composer.

Stephen Deremid, who used to compose.

That's right. You haven't written

anything for several years.

I gave up music for war.

I had an idiotic notion that

civilization was worth fighting for.

That nothing that really mattered,

not even music, can exist under slavery.

Oh, you were right.

Was I?

The world didn't think so.

I fought in Spain with the Republicans.

"Reds", they called us.

In those days, red was a

very ungentlemanly colour.

We were worthy fodder for the

German and Italian bombs.

Civilization watched on the sidelines to

make sure there should be no fair play.

I know it was horrible.

Criminally stupid.

I had it all.

Buried alive by a shell, and then

for months in an internment camp.

Thousands of us in the

open and left to rot.

Why didn't you compose then?

I tried.

It had gone. There seemed no point.

Need you be bitter?

After all, the world's learnt its lesson.

Has it?

Perhaps you're right.

Things that we bled and died for, so

unfashionably, are quite the thing today.

You are bitter.

Yes. I'm bitter.

The Spanish war was just a preliminary.

This is the main event

and I'm out of it. Cracked.

Finished.

Funny, isn't it?

Doesn't anyone in this

house ever go to bed?

I'll show you to your room.

You can switch on.

You'll have to make your own beds.

The housekeeper isn't here.

She must have been held up by

the storm. I'll get you some sheets.

I'll bet they're mouldy.

You're wrong.

They haven't been used for fifty years,

but this cupboard is well aired.

Fifty years? You wouldn't rather

we had a couple of shrouds?

These were a bit before your time.

But they're warm and dry.

Not me, thanks.

I'll stay put in my clothes.

Please yourself.

This, believe it or not,

is an alarm clock.

I'll set it for eight, and then

you can leave here early.

I always say there's nothing like making

your guests feel they're really wanted.

I want you to lock the door.

Well, of all the ..

Very well.

It's just .. my housekeeper

might come back early.

If she finds the door locked

she'll know we have company.

Will you do this?

If it makes you happier.

It does.

Well. What do you know about that?

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