Blame

	Jane gets back home. She comes into the sitting-room, and screams. Pan 
	across to find Hugh with a blood-soaked knife, standing over the bodies 
	of an elderly couple.


Jane		Oh my God ... what's happened? Victor ...?

Hugh		I am bloody furious, Jennifer, I don't mind telling you.

Jane		The blood ... what's happened?

Hugh		What's happened? I've killed your parents, that's basically
		what's happened.

Jane		What?

Hugh		Stabbed them both to death.

Jane		What ...?

Hugh		I could not be more furious.

Jane		Stabbed ... but why?

Hugh		Exactly. Why? It was so unnecessary. That's why I'm so bloody
		annoyed.

Jane		What?

Hugh		Your father was being a bit ratty, complained that the tonic
		water was a bit flat, and suddenly I was stabbing him in the
		neck with a knife. I mean, what is going on here?

Jane		You killed him?

Hugh		Yeah, alright, don't go on about it. I mean how do you think I
		feel?

Jane		I don't know, Victor ...

Hugh		Bloody annoyed, that's how.

Jane		Annoyed?

Hugh		Somebody should have stopped this ...

Jane		But I had to go out ...

Hugh		No, no, I'm not blaming you, darling. Somebody. Police, social
		services. Somebody should have seen that this was a tragedy
		waiting to happen and done something about it. I really am
		livid.

Jane		What about mother?

Hugh		Well, she got in the way, tried to defend him, and suddenly she
		was lying there, dead, the victim of bureaucratic inefficiency.
		It just won't do.

Jane		Have you called the police?

Hugh		Well, no. I thought I'd write, actually. I think it would have
		more weight.

Jane		No, I mean, have you told them what you've done?

Hugh		What I've done?

Jane		Yes ...

Hugh		What I've done. Oh that's nice. That's really charming. I stab
		your parents to death with a bread knife, and suddenly it's my
		fault, is it?

Jane		But Victor, darling, you did it. You said so yourself ...

Hugh		My hand did it, Jennifer. My hand and the knife did it, yes.
		But what made my hand do it? That's what you should be asking
		yourself.

Jane		Well, you ...

Hugh		No. Absolutely not. It's the system. I loved your parents,
		Jennifer. You know that. Your father sometimes smelt a bit, but
		they were lovely people, and now they're dead. All because the
		system failed. Again.

Jane		You're right. I shouldn't have left you alone. It's all my
		fault.

Hugh		Well, that was my first reaction, I must admit. Bloody
		Jennifer, I thought, left me in a right pickle, but it's not
		you, darling. There are people paid to make sure this doesn't
		happen, and those people simply didn't do their job.

Jane		But if I'd been here ...

Hugh		But you weren't, my angel. The system failed you, just like it
		failed me.

Jane		What are we going to do now?

Hugh		Well, I've got a good mind to kill you, to be honest.

Jane		Me?

Hugh		Teach the bloody social services a lesson. See if they can talk
		their way out of three dead bodies. I'd like to see them try...

Jane		Well, I'd rather you didn't.

Hugh		Well, of course I'd rather I didn't. But my hand, Jennifer.
		What is making my hand do these things?

Jane		The system.

	The doorbell goes. Jane goes to answer it.

Hugh		Thank you. The bloody system. These people, with their fat
		bloody salaries, sitting in their cosy little office while your
		parents, Jennifer, good people, honest, decent people, are
		being slaughtered. What is this country coming to?

	Jane comes back in with John.

John		Mr Hammond?

Hugh		Yes?

John		Derek Broome, Social Services.

Hugh		Oh, well, there you go. Hurrah for the bloody cavalry. I hope
		you're satisfied ...

John		I'm sorry?

Jane		Victor's killed my parents. Stabbed them with a knife.

John		Oh damn.

Hugh		Oh damn, yes, well, that's not a lot of use, is it? What have
		you got to say for yourself?

John		Well you were down on my list, Mr Hammond, of tragedies waiting
		to happen, but I got held up.

Hugh		You hear that, Jennifer? Mr Broome "got held up". Jesus.

John		If you'd accept my department's apologies, Mr Hammond, for the
		inconvenience this has caused you and your wife, and I'll see
		if I can't arrange a complimentary food hamper to be delivered
		here without delay.

Hugh		Well, that's something.

Jane		It's not much good to my parents, though, is it?

Hugh		Well said, Jennifer. Bloody well said.

John		Well, how about this? These vouchers (hands over some slips of 
		paper) entitle you to dinner for two at the Laudanum Hotel,
		plus five years' bereavement counselling absolutely free.

Jane		Hmm.

Hugh		Well. That's more like it.

Stephen		Memory can play the wierdest tricks on you. It really can. I
		remembered something the other day, just as I was leaving the
		house, I turned round to lock the back door, and I remembered
		that I'd been violently abused as a child for nearly twelve
		years. Just came from nowhere. Amazing. I'm suing my parents
		for five million quid, as it happens. Course they died some
		years back, so I've got to sue myself as next of kin, but I
		think the principle's important.