[Hawksmoor bursts in on the residents and some of the nurses dancing while Bernard plays the organ, in memory of Edith who died earlier on]
Bernard: Uh-oh. Bandit at nine o'clock.
Hawksmoor: [picks up a bottle of wine] Clear this drink away. Where's Matron? Lost your tongues, have you? Whose idea was this?
Thelma Caldicot: It's Edith's wake. We felt she needed a good send off.
Hawksmoor: Who says so?
Thelma Caldicot: I do.
Bernard: So do I.
[others join in, supporting Thelma]
Thelma Caldicot: It's all right, folks. I take full responsibility. I felt it was something you would have organised, had you been here.
Hawksmoor: Don't you be clever with me. I want you packed and out of this place first thing in the morning.
Bernard: You can't do that. If she goes, so do I.
Thelma Caldicot: [sighing] Oh, you can't, Bernard. You've got nowhere to go. And this miserable bugger knows it.
Hawksmoor: [walking away] Before breakfast, Mrs Caldicot.
Thelma Caldicot: Just a minute. Oh, I *am* leaving, because I don't belong here. In fact, none of us belongs here in your second-rate, overpriced knacker's yard. And we don't need you or our relatives to tell us when we're ready for the scrap heap. *We'll* decide that. Do you know, I spent 40 years of my life under the boot of a mean-spirited tyrant just like you. And I'm not going to let it happen again.
[she turns to all the other residents]
Thelma Caldicot: Good night, folks.
Everyone: Good night. Thank you.
