ELLIE’S HOUSE – INTERIOR – BEDROOM
[ELLIE is lying on the bed, feet in the air and chin resting on her palms. There’s a book in front of her but she ignores it. It’s upside down. There are tear marks on her face and she reaches for a tissue but the box is empty.]
Why is the box always empty when you need it?
[She lobs the box onto the floor]
That always happens. When you don’t need it, during autumn or something, it’s all full and you’re like, “great”. But winter comes with colds and spring with hay fever and it’s always empty.
[ELLIE listens for a moment, then hangs up and throws the phone onto the bed.]
Matt. I suppose he wants to talk to me. Well, I don’t want to talk to him. I won’t talk to him. Kate was right. It couldn’t last.
I only wish it could have lasted a little bit longer. Just another month or two of being happy. But then, if it had, I would never have been able to let go.
Ellie? Are you there? It’s Kate.
I’m here all right. Where else would I be? I’ve got nowhere to go. I’m hardly going to go to the cinema on my own or to the shops or to the park …
[she starts to cry again].
Can I come up?
I guess so.
[KATE enters. She sits on the end of the bed and looks at ELLIE. Then she reaches into her bag and pulls out a large, coloured handkerchief]
Here, have this.
Now, spill. I know what’s going on, and you have to tell me.
Why? What’s the point? You already know – it’ll just hurt more …
Because telling someone really does help, you know. Honest.
All right. Just this once. I warn you, though, I’ll cry.
Okay, then …