ACT ONE
SCENE ONE
In darkness, childrenâs voices float through space and time, singing an ancient, eerie rhyme.
CHILDRENâS VOICES:
Oh, Mudda, whatâs that? Whatâs that?
CHILD:
Nothing at all ⌠The dog at the door âŚ
A teenage girlâABIGAIL KIRKâsits alone by a lamppost.
VOICES:
Oh, Mudda, whatâs that? Whatâs that?
CHILD:
The wind in the chimney, thatâs all, thatâs all.
VOICES:
Oh, Mudda, whatâs that? Can you see?
CHILD:
The cow in the byre ⌠The horse in the stall âŚ
Slowly, slowly ⌠a figure appears onstage, emerging from the darkness. She is BEATIE BOW.
âHer face was pale and her hair was clipped so close it looked like catâs fur. She wore a long, washed-out print dress, a pinafore of brown cotton, and a shawl crossed over her chest.â
VOICES:
Oh, Mudda, whatâs that in the shadows?
CHILD:
A fox in its hole ⌠A hare in its burrow âŚ
VOICES:
Oh, Mudda, I see something there!
CHILD:
Close your eyes, bairn, shhh shhh, there there âŚ
BEATIE walks toward ABIGAIL, her arms lifting as she approaches, reaching out for the girl.
VOICES:
Oh, Mudda, whatâs that up ahead?!
CHILD:
Itâs Beatie Bow! Back from the dead!
The children scream. And BEATIE Bow disappears into thin air.
SCENE TWO
An apartment, high above Sydney, 2021. ABIGAIL and her mother KATHY are going through an old trunk of antique bits and bobs. Kathyâs mother-in-law MARGARET peers out of a window.
âAbigail was thin and flat as a board, with a narrow brown face and black coffee eyes. Long brown hair and black, straight eyebrows.â She wears a long vintage green dress and boots and sits quietly, assisting her mother.
KATHY wears overalls, with her hair âraked up on top of her head in a washerwomanâs knotâ. She hums an ancient tune softly as she sorts through the trunk.
MARGARETâAbigailâs grandmotherâtakes in the view as she sips from a cup of tea.
âShe was chic and glittery and poisonous.â
MARGARET: Good Lord, I could never live this highâif there was a fire youâd have no hope. How many more climbers can they cram onto the Bridge, do you think? Thereâs five lots up there alreadyâonly a matter of time before the whole thing collapses. So much construction, more cranes than buildingsâthe giraffes at Taronga will think itâs bloody mating season. Very kind of Weylandâs firm to let you live hereâI mean, whatâs it worth, Katherine? Five, five point five? Of course, we were never allowed to venture into this area when I was young. Slums. You can feel it, canât you? Itâs etched into The Rocks. Still, at least itâs central, I suppose.
Beat.
What is that God-awful thing, Katherine?
KATHY: Itâs an old bridal chest. So much insideâmy clients will love it.
MARGARET: Where on earth did you find it?
KATHY: The council flats around the corner. Deceased estate. Just turfed out on the cobblestones with âPlease Take Meâ scrawled on a note.
MARGARET: It smells putrid.
KATHY: I donât smell anything.
MARGARET: Because youâre used to it, dear. Desensitised.
KATHY: Thereâs bound to be some treasure we can sell at Magpies if we keep digging, right, Abigail?
ABIGAIL gives a small smile and nods.
MARGARET: Along with plenty of vermin, no doubt.
KATHY: I had to deal with plenty more vermin as a lawyer, Margaret. The worst kind. The ones with red t...