A Place at the Table
CHARACTERS
| MAM | Mother, middle-aged |
| DAD | Father, middle-aged |
| SEÁN | Son, late teens |
| LEAH | Seán's girlfriend, late teens |
| NAN | Seán's grandmother, elderly woman |
| ELECTRICIAN | Tradesperson |
| SARAH | Seán's ex-girlfriend, one line at the end |
Setting
A warm, ordinary Irish dining room on Halloween night (Oíche Shamhna). The decorations are modest but traditional — a few paper bats, a carved turnip or pumpkin, candlelight, perhaps a bowl of apples. At centre stage, a dining table laid for five: four seats are taken by Mam, Dad, Seán, and Leah, and one is conspicuously empty — fully set with plate, cutlery, glass, and napkin. A door stage-left leads to the front hall and front door, from which the voices of trick-or-treaters are heard. A door stage-right leads to another part of the house, from which an unseen Electrician occasionally emerges, repeating the same lines. Lights flicker on and off for sinister effect at numerous points in the play. Sound effects of doorbells, an electric hum, and the laughter and whimpering of children at the door trick-or-treating occur unseen offstage.
Outline
It's Halloween night. Seán brings his girlfriend Leah home to meet his parents for dinner. An extra place is set at the table - a tradition, Mam explains, for "those who have passed on." They speak fondly of Seán's late grandmother, Nan.
As the meal unfolds, trick-or-treaters arrive at the door, each visit stranger than the last. Mam returns from the hall increasingly flushed, while an Electrician keeps emerging from another room, repeating the same conversation as if trapped in time.
When the lights flicker back on, Nan is suddenly seated at the table, eating and chatting as if nothing were amiss. No one reacts except Leah. Talk turns to Seán's missing ex-girlfriend, and Leah realizes the family's "tradition" hides something far darker.
The loops tighten; Mam and Dad grow monstrous; Leah tries to flee - but once you've joined this family, there's no leaving. In the final blackout, Leah's screams fall silent. When the lights return, she's seated calmly at the table beside Nan, another guest of honour for Oíche Shamhna.
Notes
Samhain, or Saṁain (silent 'm') is the Irish Gaelic word for Halloween. It marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, and is traditionally seen as a time when the boundary between this world and the Otherworld is at its weakest.
One-Act Play
Scene 1
A dining room. Halloween decorations - nothing too elaborate, but clearly Oíche Shamhna: a few paper bats, a pumpkin, maybe fake cobwebs.
Centre stage: a dining table laid for five, though only four chairs are occupied. One chair, with a full place setting (plate, cutlery, glass, napkin), is empty.
A door upstage/SL leads to the front hall and front door (offstage).
A door SR leads to the rest of the house. Somewhere out of sight, an ELECTRICIAN is “working” on the fusebox.
At the table: MAM, DAD, SEÁN and LEAH. They are mid-meal, with that awkward “meeting the parents for the first time” energy.
MAM
So Leah, Seán tells us you’re doing your Leaving Cert next year as well?
LEAH
Yeah, that’s right.
MAM
And what subjects are you taking?
LEAH
Um… well, English, Irish, Maths obviously, then French, Biology, Chemistry, History.
MAM
Any honours-level?
SEÁN (mortified)
Mam!
LEAH
It’s okay, Seán. Yes, all seven honours, actually.
DAD (impressed despite himself)
Very ambitious! And Chemistry? That’s a tough one.
LEAH
I’m managing so far.
SEÁN (a bit defensive, proud)
She’s top of the class.
MAM (delighted)
Oh, wonderful! And what are you thinking for college?
LEAH
Maybe medicine? I’m not completely sure yet.
MAM
Medicine! Did you hear that, love? A doctor.
DAD
A six-hundred pointer, near enough. I tell you, at this rate they’re just churning out pure academics for doctors. No bedside manner any more.
MAM
A tad better than your table-side manner, I must say.
They share a small laugh. SEÁN squirms.
DAD (mock-offended)
Well, quite. I’m sorry, Leah. I’m just impressed. Medicine! You’d have to go to one of the big ones.
As LEAH reaches for her water glass, she notices the empty chair opposite her. Full place setting. No person.
LEAH
Um… are we expecting someone else?
MAM and DAD both soften slightly.
MAM
Oh! No, love. That’s just a little ritual we do on Oíche Shamhna.
DAD
Old Irish custom. You set a place for those who’ve passed on.
MAM
We started doing it last year, after Seán’s nan died. She’d have loved to meet you, Leah. Always teasing Seán about bringing home a nice girl.
SEÁN (mortified)
Mam…
MAM
She’d have been most impressed with you, Leah.
LEAH
That’s really sweet. I’m sorry for your loss.
DAD
Eighty-seven she was. Sharp as a tack right to the end.
MAM
Fierce tongue on her.
DAD (laughing)
Beat me at cards every Sunday.
MAM
Robbed you blind, more like.
SEÁN (fond, embarrassed)
The OG hustler.
The DOORBELL rings.
MAM (brightening)
Oh! First trick-or-treaters!
She gets up, exits towards the front door (offstage). We hear her in the hall.
MAM (offstage, delighted)
Oh, look at you all! A vampire and two zombies! Brilliant! So realistic! Those teeth… are they real?
A tiny pause. A small sound from a child, quickly cut off.
MAM (offstage, smoothing it over)
Here you go, love. Hold out your bag. And for you. Come closer to me now.
Another small pause.
MAM (offstage, cheerfully)
Happy Halloween!
Sound of the door closing. MAM returns to the table, slightly more colour in her cheeks, a bit energized.
MAM
Gorgeous costumes. The effort they go to.
DAD
The effort their mammies go to, more like.
MAM
Oh, stop that now.
DAD
Still though, back in our day we used have to do something when we rocked up to a house. Sing a party piece, tell a joke, recite a poem…
MAM
You did no such thing. My mam would answer the door and you’d be there with Dicky Kavanagh, potato sacks over your scrawny frames, looking like scarecrows and begging for sweets.
SEÁN (to LEAH, sotto)
They go on about this every year.
LEAH (trying to be gracious)
It’s nice that people care.
MAM
Exactly. Nice little tradition.
The LIGHTS FLICKER once.
Everyone pauses. Forks suspended mid-air.
SEÁN
What was that?
DAD (vaguely)
Electrician’s in there fiddling. Been at it for ages.
The LIGHTS FLICKER again - then go completely out for two or three seconds. In the darkness: clinking cutlery halts, maybe a small nervous laugh. Then the lights snap fully back on.
LEAH blinks. Something feels wrong. She looks to the empty chair.
The empty chair is no longer empty. NAN is sitting there, mid-chew, fork in hand. Dark formal dress, carefully set white hair, like someone’s beloved grandmother. She has clearly been eating. No-one reacts.
LEAH drops her fork with a clatter.
NAN
Bit dry, this chicken.
MAM (without missing a beat)
I told you I should’ve basted it more.
DAD
It’s fine.
NAN
You always were too impatient with the oven.
LEAH stares at NAN, then at SEÁN, then back at the supposedly dead grandmother.
LEAH
I… when did you…?
The door SR opens. The ELECTRICIAN steps in, with toolbox, wiping his hands. The timing almost tramples LEAH’s question.
ELECTRICIAN
Right. I’ve sorted that dodgy fusebox. You really should replace it with modern trip switches, but it’ll hold.
DAD (standing up, relieved)
What was it?
ELECTRICIAN
Old wiring. Loose neutral.
DAD
What do I owe you?
ELECTRICIAN
Seventy-five euro.
DAD pulls out his wallet, counts notes, hands them over.
DAD
There you go. Cheers.
ELECTRICIAN
No bother.
ELECTRICIAN exits. DAD sits again.
NAN
Seventy-five euro to tighten a fuse. Daylight robbery.
LEAH stares at NAN. Everyone else just keeps eating.
LEAH (quietly, to SEÁN)
I thought you said she -
SEÁN (instantly, overlapping)
So, Leah, how are you finding the potatoes?
LEAH (still staring at NAN, then realizing, flustered)
They’re… eh… potatoey.
NAN reaches across towards LEAH.
NAN
Pass us that, would you, love?
Automatically, LEAH passes the gravy boat. NAN pours generously over her plate.
The LIGHTS FLICKER briefly as NAN does this.
NAN
Thank you. Manners on this one.
MAM (to NAN)
We like her very much.
DAD
Sensible girl.
NAN eyes LEAH appraisingly.
NAN
Better than that last one, anyway.
SEÁN (tensing)
Nan…
LEAH
Last one?
NAN
What was her name… Sarah?
SEÁN goes rigid.
SEÁN
We don’t need to -
NAN
Lovely girl. Came for dinner on Oíche Shamhna.
A faint chill in the room. LEAH glances between them.
LEAH
Oh. Your ex?
DAD (firmly, smoothing)
Her family relocated. Very sudden.
NAN
Is that what happened? And here’s me thinking -
MAM (quickly)
Mother.
NAN
Her parents made an awful fuss. Knocking every evening for a month. All those questions.
DAD
Very disruptive.
MAM
We had to ask them to stop. It was getting ridiculous.
NAN (mimicking with relish)
“Where’s our daughter? When did you last see her?” On and on.
LEAH swallows.
LEAH
They… didn’t know where she was?
MAM (dismissive, brittle)
Teenagers. They run off. She was probably chasing some fella.
NAN (leaning towards LEAH, enjoying herself)
You might see her yourself, love. Snooping about the house at night. In the dark.
LEAH looks straight at SEÁN.
LEAH
What does she mean?
SEÁN
Nan, don’t -
LEAH (louder)
What does she mean, Seán? Your ex-girlfriend is… what, in your house? At night?
The DOORBELL rings again. It undercuts the tension.
DAD (half-rising, eager)
My turn.
He exits to the door. We hear him in the hall.
DAD (offstage, jovial)
Oh my! A witch and a ghost! Impressive costumes. Those teeth look very real…
A pause. A whimper from a child. Then another.
DAD (offstage, low)
That’s it now. There, there. That wasn’t so bad, was it. Off you go now. On your way.
Door closes. DAD returns. His colour is higher, his movements a little too energetic. Something faintly off about his expression.
DAD
Quite committed this year.
LEAH barely registers him, still focused on SEÁN.
LEAH
I can’t believe this. You brought me here while your ex is… what, hiding upstairs?
SEÁN
Leah, it’s not -
LIGHTS FLICKER once, then steady.
Blackout.
Scene 2
Same dining room, a little later but continuous. The remains of dinner are still on the table. The atmosphere has noticeably darkened. LEAH is on edge, half-standing in her chair, ready to bolt. SEÁN is tense. MAM and DAD are a little too bright. NAN looks increasingly solid, less ghostly.
SEÁN
Leah, you’ve barely touched your dinner.
LEAH
I’m not very hungry any more.
NAN
That’s a shame. You’ll need your strength.
LEAH
For what?
NAN
For the rest of the evening, of course.
Beat.
MAM (forced brightness)
Who’s for dessert? I made apple tart.
LEAH
I’m fine, thanks.
The door SR opens again. The ELECTRICIAN appears, same toolbox, same posture.
ELECTRICIAN
Right. I’ve sorted that dodgy fusebox. You really should replace it with modern trip switches, but it’ll hold.
LEAH stares at him.
DAD (already getting to his feet)
What was it?
ELECTRICIAN
Old wiring. Loose neutral.
DAD
What do I owe you?
ELECTRICIAN
Seventy-five euro.
DAD pulls out his wallet again. Hands over notes in the exact same way as before.
DAD
There you go.
ELECTRICIAN
No bother.
ELECTRICIAN exits. DAD sits.
LEAH
Didn’t he just… do that?
MAM
Do what, love?
LEAH
That whole thing. Word for word.
DAD
Anyone want more chicken?
NAN (dry)
No one wants more of that dry chicken.
The DOORBELL rings.
MAM
My turn.
She goes to the door. This time, the voices of the children are louder, closer.
MAM (offstage)
Oh, hello! A clown? Very realistic make-up. Are those real teeth?
A pause. A small, frightened sound.
MAM (offstage, voice dropping slightly)
Well. Here’s your sweets then.
There is the faintest suggestion of something more - a gasp, a cut-off cry - then the door closes.
MAM returns. There is a faint flush high on her cheeks, an odd brightness in her eyes. She touches her lips absently.
DAD
Feeling alright, love?
MAM
Never better. So many children. All so… hungry.
LEAH pushes back her chair.
LEAH
Okay. No. I’m going. Right now. I’ve had enough of all this.
SEÁN
You can’t leave in the middle of dinner.
LEAH
You told me your nan is dead, that electrician keeps saying the exact same thing, and your parents are -
She can’t finish. She gestures helplessly at MAM and DAD.
SEÁN (suddenly uneasy)
You can see her?
LEAH
Who?
SEÁN
Nan.
LEAH (incredulous)
Of course I can see her!
The LIGHTS FLICKER. The door SR bursts open as if on cue. The ELECTRICIAN steps out, movement a bit more mechanical this time.
ELECTRICIAN (slightly sped-up)
Right, I’ve sorted that dodgy fusebox. Old wiring, loose neutral. Seventy-five euro.
DAD is already half-standing, fumbling out his card this time, barely looking.
DAD
Here. Just tap it.
ELECTRICIAN produces a card reader. Beep. He exits.
LEAH
Does no one else think this is weird?
MAM
Language, Leah. “Odd”, maybe. Or “unusual”.
NAN
We prefer “unconventional”.
LEAH (to SEÁN)
What is going on? And what did your nan mean about Sarah being here, at night?
SEÁN (cornered)
Look, there are… things about my family that are just a little different.
LEAH
Different how?
SEÁN
Unconventional. If you ask too many questions… If you really want to understand, I can try to explain. But once you’re in the circle, you’re committed. There’s no going back.
The words hang.
LEAH (horrified)
Are you asking me to be in some kind of polyamorous relationship with you and Sarah?
SEÁN (appalled)
What? No! Nothing romantic like that, I swear!
LEAH
Then what is it?
SEÁN
She can’t leave.
LEAH
Because she stays over? Because she’s here all the time? In your house? At night?
SEÁN
Because she literally can’t leave, Leah.
The DOORBELL rings again.
DAD (almost eager)
My turn.
He goes to the door. This time we hear multiple children’s voices - excited, then shifting quickly to uneasy.
DAD (offstage)
Ah, the vampire from earlier! Still hungry? I can see that. What big teeth you have…
A pause. The uneasy becomes fear.
CHILD (offstage)
I want to go home.
ANOTHER CHILD (offstage)
Please, no -
DAD (offstage, soothing and terrible)
Shhh. It’s alright. It won’t hurt for long.
Then only muffled sounds, unpleasant. The door closes. DAD returns, changed: movements too fluid, too quick. His smile is wide. His teeth - if the production can manage it - seem sharper.
DAD
Lovely costumes this year.
LEAH, pale now
I'm leaving. Right now.
She moves towards the hall. SEÁN grabs her arm, holding her back.
LEAH
Let go of me!
NAN (conversational)
Sarah tried to run too. Made it as far as the front door.
LEAH
What happened to her?
The LIGHTS FLICKER, rapid. For an instant, in a flash, we might glimpse a GIRL’S SHAPE in the hall, out of fashion clothes, vacant stare. Then darkness again.
The door bangs open. The ELECTRICIAN appears, now almost glitching, jerky.
ELECTRICIAN (very fast, almost looped)
Right-sorted-fusebox-seventy-five-seventy-five-loose-neutral-seventy-five.
DAD thrusts his card at him without looking. Beep. ELECTRICIAN exits like a puppet yanked offstage.
MAM
Honestly, the service these days.
The DOORBELL rings again. It is a rapid succession now: ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. A crowd of children.
MAM (rising, a little unsteady, almost drunk on it)
I’ll get it.
Offstage, overlapping children’s voices.
CHILDREN (offstage, overlapping)
Trick or treat! / Look at mine! / I want more -
MAM (offstage, voice changing, lower)
Shhh. One at a time. That’s it. Come closer. It’s alright. It won’t hurt for long.
Then: cries, abruptly cut. A dropped plastic bucket. Silence. The door closes. When MAM returns, she moves differently - glides rather than walks.
MAM (voice lower, inhuman edge)
Dessert is served.
She glides towards the table.
LEAH
Mrs - Mrs…?
MAM
Call me Mam. We’re going to be very close.
DAD
Your mother made apple tart. It would be rude to leave before dessert.
NAN rises. She seems fully solid now, predatory.
NAN
Once you understand, you can’t leave.
LEAH (to SEÁN, desperate)
Please.
SEÁN
I did warn you earlier. About asking questions.
LEAH
Warn me about what?
SEÁN
That it’s not easy to leave. Once you’re in, once you understand, you’re part of it. Part of the family.
He lets go of her arm. For a moment, it seems like release.
LEAH bolts. She runs for the hall door, wrenches it open, disappears offstage.
No one at the table moves to follow. They simply watch. NAN picks up her fork again.
NAN (calmly)
Sarah tried that too.
We hear LEAH offstage, rattling the front door.
LEAH (offstage)
It won’t — why won’t it —
The LIGHTS FLICKER once.
LEAH backs into view from the hall, slowly, as if pushed by something unseen. She stops in the doorway.
SARAH stands behind her, having appeared from nowhere. Vacant eyes. Two small puncture marks on her neck. She blocks the way back to the hall.
LEAH turns, sees her, gasps.
SARAH (flat, almost gentle)
There’s always a place for you.
LEAH spins back towards the dining room. MAM and DAD have risen from their chairs. They stand very still, watching her. Their smiles are too wide.
The DOORBELL rings — bright, innocent, insistent.
LEAH looks from SARAH to the family. There is nowhere to go.
MAM (warmly, as if nothing were wrong)
Sit down, love. You’ll catch your death.
The LIGHTS SNAP OFF.
In the darkness: a single, sharp intake of breath from LEAH. Then silence.
The DOORBELL rings again.
The LIGHTS come back up to a warm, cosy level.
The dining room is neat. The table is laid for six. All seats are occupied: MAM, DAD, NAN, SEÁN, SARAH, and LEAH.
SARAH and LEAH sit side by side, motionless, staring ahead. Each has two small puncture marks on her neck. Forks raised, frozen mid-gesture.
MAM rises, cheerful.
MAM
Oh! First trick-or-treaters of the night!
She moves towards the hall, exactly as at the start.
MAM (offstage, bright)
Oh, look at you all! A vampire and two zombies! Brilliant! So realistic!
At the table, NAN reaches over and pats LEAH’s hand. LEAH does not respond.
NAN (content)
Isn’t this lovely. All together for Oíche Shamhna.
She looks out at the audience.
NAN
We always set a place for those who’ve passed on.
She smiles.
BLACKOUT.
CURTAIN