Stage-right - a Unit in a poor African compound, signified by angled sheets of rusting corrugated iron,  up-turned oil drums,  a small double bed,  a cheap radio-cassette, the Qur’an, and a meagre string of Christmas tree lights

Stage-left - a Unit in the luxury compound of Hotel Paradise, particularly a seashore patio, signified by sun-beds,  beach chairs, a table and parasol,  and a bowl of tropical fruit containing a telephone in the shape of a banana

Segregating these Units is a wire-meshed Fence,   stretching from USL to USC,  then coiling down to DSR.   The Fence is in two lengths,  overlapping half-way, thereby providing an "invisible" gap to facilitate quick access between the main acting areas

ZOE : ... Nathan ? Nathan ...

NATHAN : ... hm ?

ZOE : I still can't believe we're actually going to do it.

NATHAN : No. Me neither.

ZOE : You okay ?

NATHAN : Fine, I'm fine.

ZOE : You don't look it.

NATHAN : I'm fine.

ZOE : Say you love me.

NATHAN : Zoe ...

ZOE : Go on ...

NATHAN : Zoe, please.

ZOE : Go on, two minutes time we could both be dead.

NATHAN : Godsake, woman.

ZOE : Well we could.

NATHAN : I know we could. I know we bloody could. Don't you think I know that ? Don't you think I'm well aware of what could ... yeh, okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'm a bit - I love you, all right?

ZOE : A bit what ?

NATHAN : Leave it, will you ?

ZOE : A bit what ? Nathan, you've gone all sweaty, now come on, what is it, what's wrong?

NATHAN : This is my first time.

ZOE : What ? You mean you've never - ?

NATHAN : It's ridiculous, I know it's ridiculous, but I've always put it off, found excuses.

ZOE : Why didn't you say ?

NATHAN : I thought I'd be okay, I thought I could handle it, I thought when the time came I'd be all right ...

ZOE : Course you'll be all right.

NATHAN : I even took hypnosis.

ZOE : Nathan ...

NATHAN : Try and understand, however irrational, deep down there's part of me just doesn't believe it's physically possible. It's the way I am, love, I can't help it, you'll just have to -

The hissing whine rises to a sudden roar

NATHAN : ... oh my god ...

ZOE : It's all right, it's perfectly normal.

NATHAN : ... jesus ...

The 737 soars into the sky, fading into ...

Silence

Cicadas chant in the heat of a tropical sun

Lights rise upstage on JALAMANG, seventeen, a black African, standing behind the Fence reading his "Complete Works of William Shakespeare". He wears T-shirt, jeans and plastic flip-flops

The 737 approaches, squeals as it lands ...

JALAMANG looks up, closes his book. He then presses his face against the Wire and projects a whisper to an invisible Queue ...

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome. Any newspaper, any magazine?

A Tannoy pings into life and a female VOICE announces ...

VOICE : Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Africa!

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome. Any newspaper, any magazine?

VOICE: Will all passengers please proceed to Passport Control and Immigration.

ZOE & NATHAN enter DSR and join the invisible Queue, each carrying hand luggage. She wears a summer dress & sun-hat while he wears thick trousers, rolled-up shirt and carries a winter jacket

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome. Any newspaper, any magazine?

NATHAN traps his shoulder-bag between his feet, then wafts himself with a computer magazine

ZOE : Hot ?

NATHAN : No, no, stiff wrist.

ZOE : Funny.

VOICE: Passengers waiting for the return flight to London Heathrow are reminded the Duty Free Shop is now open.

ZOE : I was half expecting you to drop to your knees and kiss the tarmac. You know, like the Pope. Aw, come on - you're not still in a huff ? You are, aren't you ?

NATHAN : Sorry - were you talking to me?

ZOE : Okay, okay - perhaps I was a touch insensitive.

The Queue shuffles forward ...

NATHAN : A touch ?

ZOE : It was for your own good. When I saw the blood drain from your knuckles, I thought a bit of humour might help.

NATHAN : Eight miles high approaching touchdown - don't you worry, pet, flying's perfectly safe, except for the last six inches. That's not humour, Zoe, that's sadism.

ZOE : Terrible, aren't I ? So how can I make amends?

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome.

ZOE : How can I appease my lord and master's righteous indignation?

JALAMANG : Any newspaper, any magazine?

NATHAN : Eight letters - the closest a man comes to a woman's mind.

ZOE : My oh my, what a surprise!

NATHAN : You did ask.

ZOE : You know, for years I thought it was an opera.

NATHAN : ... opera ?

The Queue snakes a little further

ZOE : German opera. Six ... no, no - seven letters.

NATHAN : What is this ? Jet-lag ?

ZOE : Come on, smart arse.

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome.

NATHAN : German opera ?

JALAMANG : Any newspaper, any magazine ?

ZOE : German opera, seven letters … sounds like a bit of a mouthful.

NATHAN : Sounds like a - ?

ZOE : That's a pun.

NATHAN : You don't say.

ZOE : Give in ?

NATHAN : Go on then.

ZOE : Fidelio.

NATHAN : Fidelio !

ZOE : I could never understand the fuss about performing Beethoven.

NATHAN : ... sounds like a bit of a -

ZOE : Totally bemused, I was. I mean, why would anyone - Nathan!

NATHAN's seen TASMEERA enter - a beautiful black woman in her early twenties, carrying a small suitcase and wearing an expensive Western-style outfit. He inhales lasciviously as she passes

ZOE : ... behave yourself!

NATHAN : Can't I look ? Can't I even look ?

ZOE : That's not looking, that's ogling.

NATHAN : I'm a man, Zoe, I come pre-programmed - pun intended.

TASMEERA decides to risk approaching JALAMANG ...

TASMEERA : Jalamang, what are you doing here ? Is it Yanks? Is Yanks okay?

JALAMANG : Yanks is fine, no problem. He sent me to hustle newspapers.

TASMEERA : But what about school?

JALAMANG : Father died last week.

TASMEERA : Oh, Jalamang ...

JALAMANG : So much debt, there is no money for school.

TASMEERA : Forgive me - I can't stay, I have to go.

JALAMANG : Yanks is waiting for you.

NATHAN watches TASMEERA leave, turns back to ZOE

NATHAN : Surely you're not jealous of a stranger?

ZOE : Yeh, I suppose she was rather special.

NATHAN : Too right, talk about hot chocolate.

ZOE : So what about him ?

NATHAN : ... hm ?

The Queue shuffles forward ...

ZOE : Next to the Duty Free, orange T-shirt.

NATHAN : What about him ?

ZOE : Lovely bum.

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome.

ZOE : Nice pecs, an all.

JALAMANG : Any newspaper, any magazine ?

ZOE : Very tasty.

NATHAN : Yeh, okay.

ZOE : And just look at the way he moves ... oh, yes ... yes, yes, yes.

NATHAN : All right, ha-bloody-ha.

ZOE : Bet he's well-hung, an all.

NATHAN : Zoe, you've made your point ...

The Queue shuffles a little further

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome.

NATHAN : ... you don't have to -

JALAMANG : Any newspaper, any magazine?

NATHAN : ... what ? What's he say?

ZOE : (rolling it) He wants the newspaper.

NATHAN : Yes, please.

NATHAN : ... hang on - I haven't finished the crossword.

ZOE : (poking it through Fence) For heaven's sake ...

NATHAN : You know how much I enjoy - Zoe!

JALAMANG : Thank you.

NATHAN : Oh, great. Terrific. Thanks a bunch.

ZOE : I should have thought just for once -

NATHAN : I was looking forward to that. You should ask, you should've asked, you shouldn't just -

JALAMANG : Please, we must whisper - if they think I'm hassling you, it will make great trouble for me. Would you like me to return your newspaper ?

NATHAN : Oh well, that's very decent -

ZOE : Nathan !

NATHAN : Second thoughts, maybe you should keep it.

JALAMANG : Thank you. And your magazine ?

NATHAN : No, no, I don't think so. It's rather specialised - computers, modems, telecommunications, I shouldn't think you'd find much use or interest -

JALAMANG : Please - I would value it very much

NATHAN : No disrespect, but have you even heard of the Internet?

ZOE : Nathan!

NATHAN : A fair question, it's a fair question.

JALAMANG : Internet ? No… no, I don't think so.

NATHAN : What did I say ? He hasn't even -

ZOE : Well if he hasn't, perhaps he should - you're always going on about how important it is.

NATHAN turns her aside, whispers ...

NATHAN : I shouldn't think he knows a computer from a camel.

ZOE : Can't you see ? The poor lad's desperate.

JALAMANG : Excuse me ...

NATHAN : It's a magazine, not a bowl of rice.

JALAMANG : Hello ? Hello, excuse me ...

NATHAN : Yeh okay, hang on, we're just trying to -

JALAMANG : It is about this Internet ...

NATHAN : Yeh, I know, we're just trying to -

JALAMANG : It sounds very interesting.

NATHAN : Does it ?

ZOE : You see ...

JALAMANG : I would very much like to learn about it.

NATHAN : Would you ? Would you now ?

JALAMANG : Particularly if you yourself regard it as so important.

NATHAN : You should be in double-glazing, you're wasted here.

JALAMANG : Double-glazing ?

NATHAN : Never mind. (poking through the mag) There you go, sunshine.

JALAMANG : Thank you.

NATHAN : Happy surfing.

The Queue moves on, ZOE pecks NATHAN a kiss

ZOE : My hero !

NATHAN : Oh, it's fine for you ...

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome.

NATHAN : I didn't notice you rushing to give him Middlemarch.

JALAMANG : Any newspaper, any magazine?

NATHAN : Now what am I going to read?

JALAMANG : Hello. Welcome.

NATHAN : (exiting) Cosmo-bloody-politan?

JALAMANG : Any newspaper, any magazine?

Lights snap out

We hear the angry beat of an African drum

Lights rise on YANKS, a handsome black African in his mid-twenties, sitting on his oil drum, playing a powerful riff behind the Wire. He wears T-shirt, jeans, and a reversed baseball cap

TASMEERA enters, puts down the suitcase, observes. YANKS senses her presence, stops drumming

TASMEERA : Enunbara.

YANKS : Enunbara.

He goes to her, ritually kisses her cheeks

YANKS : As-Salamu alaykum.

TASMEERA : Wa alaykum's-salam.

YANKS : (hugging her) You okay?

TASMEERA : I'm okay.

YANKS : Look at you - you look a million dollar, like a movie-star.

She smiles sadly, breaks way

TASMEERA : The driver is waiting.

Picking up the suitcase, she goes into the Unit. YANKS follows ...

YANKS : Did you see Jalamang?

TASMEERA : Hustling for newspapers.

YANKS : Could you speak ?

She puts the case on the bed, removes several glossy magazines

TASMEERA : Only a moment, I was still with the Delegation.

YANKS : Did he say about his father?

TASMEERA : (nodding) What happen ?

YANKS : Fever, some fever. But Jalamang think he just too tired to live.

TASMEERA : (taking off her shoes) ... poor man.

YANKS : A poor man and a good man. (he sits on the bed, flicks through the magazines) Now the money-lenders gather like wolves, they lose their home, their land, everything. His mother and sisters, they have all gone to live with my father.

TASMEERA : (removing her stockings) And Jalamang live here?

YANKS : What else could I do ?

TASMEERA sighs, puts shoes & stockings into the suitcase then removes her jewellery. YANKS puts the magazines aside ...

YANKS : They should bring a good price. Take them to Paradise, show them to Yousef.

TASMEERA : I think Fulamatou pay more ...

YANKS : Okay, first you try Fulamatou, but not less than fifty. Tasmeera - he is my cousin, my brother, what else could I do? There is nothing for him in the village.

She zips the jewellery into a toilet-bag, returns it to the case, begins to undress

TASMEERA : We can scarcely feed ourselves. He is a good boy and God knows I feel pity for him but how are we-?

YANKS is captivated by her shimmering slip. He reaches for her, glides his fingers over her body

TASMEERA : Isn't it beautiful?

YANKS : ... so smooth.

TASMEERA : ... silk, pure silk.

YANKS : ... smooth as water.

TASMEERA : ... from Paris. Three hundred English pound.

YANKS : ... three hundred?

TASMEERA : That is like nothing, he waste thousands.

YANKS breaks away, stares through the Wire

YANKS : ... man oh man ...

TASMEERA : (folding the dress into the case) The worst is not he doesn't care, but that he think it is his right to live like that, he think Allah specially choose him to live like a prince.

YANKS : The man is evil.

TASMEERA : The man is sick, sick with greed. The people he meet, they are no better, their only interest is for themselves, themselves and their profit.

YANKS : Did he hurt you ?

TASMEERA : Yanks, you promise.

YANKS : Crabs in a basket, we live like crabs in a basket.

TASMEERA holds him, whispers

TASMEERA : It is not me, it is never me, I am always someone else.

YANKS looks away, presses his forehead against the Wire

TASMEERA : Look at me. Mamamondou, look at me ...

YANKS looks at her

TASMEERA : Namuso, I am only for you, what I am, what I truly am, I am only for you.

They kiss ...

TASMEERA : ... we can't - the driver is impatient.

YANKS :Let him learn to wait.

TASMEERA : He will come beating on the door.

YANKS :Tasmeera ...

TASMEERA : Please, give me time, let me become myself again. Yanks, please, get me my dress.

He relents, drags a box from under the bed. TASMEERA removes the slip

TASMEERA : What are we to do with Jalaman ? He is a clever boy but he is never a hustler.

He finds a shabby African dress, gives it to her

YANKS :I will take him to Paradise.

TASMEERA : Are you crazy ? Even you cannot gain a living, what chance will he ?

YANKS : Think positive, woman.

TASMEERA : He is not handsome, he is gauche, awkward ... (folding the slip into the case) ... unless you are a cripple you have to be handsome.

YANKS : I will teach him to teach the drum.

TASMEERA : (laughing) ... Jalamang ?

YANKS : You are too hard. He has a beautiful smile and he is blessed with the Spirit, for the drum that is what is most important.

TASMEERA : (fastening the case) What about rhythm?

YANKS :What do they know ? A nice African boy with a big smile sitting on the beach playing his drum -

TASMEERA : You still need style. (giving him the suitcase) No trouble, he is only the driver - give him the case and say nothing.

YANKS leaves. Now transformed, TASMEERA adjusts her shabby dress, smoothing her belly as she gazes round her tiny home before sitting on the bed and wearily cradling her head

Slow crossfade to DSL as Cicadas mix into lapping Waves

Chuckles off, then ...

The Telephone rings

NATHAN : (off) ... shit.

ZOE : (off) ... don't you dare! Nathan! Nathan, I mean it !

NATHAN : (off) It might be important.

ZOE : (off) Nathan !

NATHAN : (off) Won't take a minute.

He enters tying his bathrobe

NATHAN : Where is it ?

ZOE : (off) Where's what ?

NATHAN : The phone, the bloody phone.

ZOE : (off) On the table.

NATHAN : ... eh ?

ZOE : (off) The banana ...

NATHAN : Ah, right. Hello? Yes, this is Mr Freeman. Oh no, dear oh dear, that's a bit of a blow. You're sure, absolutely sure?

Zoe enters wearing a beach-robe, worried

NATHAN : Well what about the '88 ? No, no, not demi-sec - brut, I want brut. Look, if I'm paying for the best I expect - yeh okay, fine, that'll do, but nice and chilled and ASAP. Eh ? As soon as - oh, never mind, just bring it. Yeh, great, that'll be great, thank you.

He puts down the banana, sighs and sits

NATHAN : Bloody cheek. Tried to palm me off with Asti Spumanti .

ZOE : (stroking his chest) I wish you'd relax.

NATHAN : Yeh, I know, I know - haven't been much fun, have I? What with work and the wedding, then the bloody flight.

ZOE : (sitting on his knee, kissing him) And all for love, eh? You're a prince, what are you ? A prince among men.

NATHAN : Jest ye not. Nothing else would have got me on that plane.

ZOE : Amor vincit omnia.

NATHAN : Speaking of amor, I could really go some Beethoven...

ZOE : Could you now ?

NATHAN : Much as I relished the Overture, I feel this sudden urge for the First Act.

ZOE : Is that a fact ?

NATHAN : Let's go back inside, hm ?

ZOE : Sorry, bonny lad ... you had your chance.

NATHAN : You what ?

ZOE : Second best to a telephone ?

NATHAN : Aw, come on, you're surely not - ?

ZOE : A girl's got her pride, Nathan.

NATHAN : It could've been important.

ZOE : More important than me ?

NATHAN : A phone-call, it was only a phone-call. Come on, angel, surely you're not - ?

Zoe chuckles

NATHAN : ... what ? What ?

ZOE : Had you worried, didn't I ?

NATHAN : ... a wind-up, a bloody wind-up !

ZOE : Just don't take liberties, right ? Next time I mightn't be so generous. Come on then, lover boy - let's see if you can rise to the occasion.

NATHAN : I'm sure I'll come up with something.

ZOE : You'd better. I want no limp excuses.

NATHAN : Don't you worry your pretty little feminist head, I'll try really hard.

They kiss, the banana rings

NATHAN : ... shit.

Zoe sighs, gives permission

ZOE : Go on ...

NATHAN : Yeh, speaking ... eh ? No ice ? What do you mean you've no - ? (to Zoe) ... no bloody ice ! Well how long will that take? How long? You and me both. No, no - this really isn't good enough, tell the manager I'll be there in five minutes ! (hangs up)

ZOE : God, I hate it when you're masterful.

NATHAN : Sorry, angel, but it has to be sorted (exiting) Five star means five star whether it's here or Timbuktu.

ZOE : (following) It's only a bottle of champagne, I don't see why you have to -?

NATHAN : (off) ... only ? La-di-da, since when has champagne been only ?

ZOE : For fuck's sake, Nathan, this isn't Europe.

NATHAN : (off) I'm well aware of that, thank you. It's the principle, give them an inch and they'll take a - shit, where are they?

He strides back on wearing vivid shorts and a designer T-shirt

NATHAN : Seen my shades ?

ZOE : Table.

NATHAN : ... ah. (puts on sun-glasses) Look, I just want things to be right, for us to have a proper start, that's all. These little things are important.(holding her) Hey, come on - smile if you love me.(she smiles) That's better.

Off, a distant drum beats a lazy riff. Nathan affects a posh voice

NATHAN : Listen darling ... they're playing our song. Zoe...?

ZOE : ... hm ?

NATHAN : They're playing our song.

ZOE : (chuckling) ... you daft ape.

NATHAN :(kissing her) Love you ...

ZOE : ... love you.

NATHAN : Right then. Oh, you'd better have this...

ZOE : What is it ?

NATHAN : The key to the security box, just in case...

ZOE : In case what ?

NATHAN : Well ... case I get mugged or something.

ZOE : ... mugged ? You're only going to Reception.

NATHAN : Haven't you heard ? It's a jungle out there ? No, but seriously, love, you can't be too careful, not here - life's cheap and the living ain't easy, even the drive from the airport you could see it's dog eat dog. Right then - bollocking-mode. Let's see if these natives understand basic service and efficiency. (mouthing a kiss) Won't be long.

He leaves. Zoe gazes out across the beach, increasingly captivated by the beat of the drum

Sustain Drumbeat, increasing in volume as Lights crossfade to upstage centre where Yanks and Jalamang sit back-to-back on the heap of sand, sharing a spliff in the late-afternoon sun

Jalamang continues to study his "Complete Works". Yanks' drumming reaches a sudden conclusion with a virtuoso coda

YANKS : ... a simple riff, nice and easy, surely you can do that? Hey man, I am talking to you.

JALAMANG : We are the stuff that dreams are made on ...

YANKS : ... dreams ? What dreams ?

JALAMANG : ... and our little lives are rounded by a sleep.

YANKS : Jalamang ...

JALAMANG : Isn't that wonderful ? Don't you think it's wonderful?

YANKS : We are what ?

JALAMANG : The stuff of dreams.

YANKS : ... the stuff of dreams ? Man, you sure has a way with words.

JALAMANG : Not I, Shakespeare.

YANKS : Ah, Shakespeare ...

JALAMANG : Mind and soul and beauty, the man is a master. You will really like this one, it all happens on an island, a fabulous island, but first it start with a terrible ship-wreck and a mighty storm -

YANKS : Jalamang, this is no time for Shakespeare, this is your time to learn.

JALAMANG : I can't drum, you know I can't.

YANKS : It doesn't have to be good.

JALAMANG : Of course it has to be good, to be a teacher is to be an example.

YANKS : Good or bad, how will they know ?

JALAMANG : I will know.

YANKS : So can't you keep it a secret ?

JALAMANG : How can I teach what I cannot learn ?

YANKS : Believe me, you will not be the first. You could at least try.

JALAMANG : (sighing) Give me the drum.

YANKS : That's my man !

He faces Jalamang, gives him the spliff ...

YANKS : An experience, give them an experience. That is what they want, what they need, especially the women, know what I mean? (patting a seductive rhythm) Cool. Make it cool. Cool and sexy. Take plenty time, let them fall into the rhythm, let them enjoy the way you move, then you tell them the drum speak to their heart, that it waken their spirit. Psychology, Jalamang, it is all psychology.

JALAMANG accepts the Drum, returns the spliff

YANKS : And smile. I know it hurt your heart, but you must still smile. Okay ... nice and easy ...

JALAMANG fixes a smile and begins

YANKS : Hey man - you are not going to war!

JALAMANG perseveres ...

YANKS : Cool. Cool and sexy.

YANKS sighs, stands, stares out at the sea, sighs again

YANKS : ... man oh man ...

JALAMANG stops, also sighs

YANKS : Jalamang, how is it you are the only boy in Africa who can't play the drum ?

JALAMANG : Father said I live too much in my head.

YANKS : Your father, he was a wise man.

YANKS carefully nips out the spliff, saves it under his cap

YANKS : Okay, okay - from the start.

JALAMANG stands, leaving his "Complete Works"

YANKS : No, no, keep the book - the book is good, the book makes you special.

Inspired, Yanks clicks his fingers, claps his hands

YANKS : Shakespeare ! Shakespeare ! We will call you Shakespeare! Now what is wrong ?

JALAMANG : My name is Jalamang.

YANKS : My name is Mamamondou, but like yours it is too hard for them to remember. Jalamang, surely Shakespeare is the finest of names?

JALAMANG : It is not my name.

YANKS : (holding his shoulders) What else have you to sell? When you are rich you buy back your name, but now, when you are here, you are Shakespeare, okay ? Jalamang, you must trust me.

JALAMANG : ... okay ...

YANKS : That's my man ! Okay ...

YANKS strolls around, parodying a tourist

YANKS : ... so here I am, honky on holiday. Look at me. Aren't I easy to recognise? See how white ? How pale ? Eight hours ago I am shivering in the wet and the cold but now I am in Paradise. And I like being in Paradise. I like it very much. So I take myself for a little stroll along the beach, and then ... then I see you...

JALAMANG :(beaming a smile) Hello. Welcome. How are you?

YANKS : I am pretending I don't hear you ...

JALAMANG : (louder) Hello. Welcome. How are you ?

YANKS : I am pretending I don't see you ...

JALAMANG : (pursuing) Hello. Welcome. How are you ?

YANKS : Very well, thank you, can't complain, mustn't grumble, and how are you?

JALAMANG : Fine, thank you.

YANKS : Jolly good, mind how you go, take care, have a nice day.

JALAMANG : (pursuing) Where are you from?

YANKS : Bristol. I come from Bristol.

JALAMANG : You are from England ?

YANKS : The sun ! Now you talk about the sun ! The sun and the bamboo paste ! Surely you cannot forget - quickly, quickly!

JALAMANG : What is it ?

YANKS : Security ! The security guard! (touching his toes) Do what I do!

JALAMANG : (copying) What are you doing?

YANKS : Pretend you are exercising!

JALAMANG : Can't I pretend I'm reading?

YANKS : (jogging like a boxer) Are you crazy?

JALAMANG : (copying) My country, my beach - why can't I sit and read ?

YANKS : Do you want to do the monkey dance, is that what you want? Only the tourist read on the beach, he will consider you impertinent.

YANKS stops, gets back his breathe

YANKS : ... okay, okay, it's cool - he only have a smoke, a naughty smoke, he is not interested in us.

JALAMANG : What is the monkey dance ?

YANKS : (pointing) Look what I see ... fresh off the plane and white as an angel. And all alone.

JALAMANG : I recognise her, she was at the airport.

YANKS : Come on, beautiful lady, come on - Yanks and Shakespeare are waiting for you. Come on, come on. She's leaving the compound! Quickly, quickly ...

They hurry upstage, squat behind the mound of sand

YANKS : The sun and the bamboo paste, okay?

JALAMANG : Okay.

ZOE enters - strolling moodily along the shore. YANKS waits his moment, stands unseen, pats a gentle riff ...

ZOE : Oh ... I'm sorry, I didn't realise -

YANKS smiles, approaches extending his hand ...

YANKS : Hello. Welcome. You are very welcome.

ZOE : (shaking hands) Thank you,

JALAMANG : (shaking hands) Welcome. Welcome to my country.

YANKS : My friend Shakespeare, he think he is the President.

ZOE chuckles, still apprehensive

ZOE : ... Shakespeare ?

YANKS : This is what we call him. And I am Yanks.

ZOE : Yanks and Shakespeare ?