bitinâ winds. Weâd stop and eat sandwiches on a brow lookinâ out at them moors, at valleys covered in droves aâ
heather, and fells . . . fells white with snow. If I think about the places I been, and I been my fair share, those white fells aâ the loveliest thing I ever seen. Iâd like to go there. Iâd like to see snow on the fells again.
Megan But there wonât be any.
Mrs Peel No. There wonât.
Megan But we could still go there.
Mrs Peel nods. She moves behind Megan .
Megan ( Turns to Mrs Peel . ) When aâ we gonna leave?
Mrs Peel Weâ leavinâ at sunrise.
Megan Tomorrow?
Mrs Peel ( Smiles. ) Tomorrow.
Megan turns her beaming face round.
Mrs Peel raises the knife and slits Megan âs throat.
Mrs Peel stands motionless for a long time.
A long shear of light. A series of low concussions.
Mrs Peel kneels, takes the blade and slits her throat.
The sun sets. The sun rises.
A shoot grows out of the earth.
Blackout.
Ditch
Beth Steel was born in Nottingham and was part of the Invitation Group for Emerging Writers at the Royal Court and is currently a writer on attachment for both HighTide and Theatre503. Ditch is her first play.