This is performed by Mrs Jones, as she watches her son fall into the arms of Daphne, whom she knows to be evil and corrupted and whom she knows will try to take Fred away from her.

Did you ever stop to think, Freddy? Stop to think about your doting parents, here in Ohio? Watching your fall from grace from the living room window, seeing your arms holding her, the same arms I held when you were small… I remember putting a plaster on a cut on the hand that she now holds, and how you held those arms up and asked to be carried because you couldn't walk that far. Tidying up your toys with a smile on my face, picking you up from school and watching you run from the school gates, and how I'd laugh as I picked out a little brown leaf from your thick blond hair, and how I thought you were just like your dad when you laughed. The same animated laugh, the same one that she now enjoys. Or does she? Do you laugh when you're with her, Freddy? Do you feel pleasure? Or does she just draw you in inexplicably, like a pin to a magnet, like a child to a chocolate bar? I hear the neighbours talking here, Freddy, saying, He used to be such a sweet boy… A pleasure, even… Never any trouble, polite, well brought up clearly… And then he got involved with her. What a shame! The Joneses must be so ashamed of him now. And I think too, of the little boy who swung a plastic baseball bat at a tennis ball thrown by his dad and just smiled when it hit him in the stomach. Where did he go?

I thought you'd realise what she was about, Freddy, when she told you where she was going, but no. You came back here, threw your things into a bag, and left. And I remember that I screamed at you to leave, and you flinched, you backed away from me, and secretly I begged you to stay, and then your dad grabbed your arm and you tried to get away from him, and we tried, we tried so hard to tell you, we told you all the rumours, all the stories, and then all the facts as well. Her parents were certainly a dodgy pair; no wonder she turned out the way she did. And you looked me straight in the eye, and what did you say? I'm going and, well, I wanted to come back. No way now. I'll stay with Daph. And your father tried to knock some sense into you, locked the door and grabbed you by the shoulders. Did it hurt, Freddy, when you saw what you'd done to him? You turned him to violence. He tried to hurt you, yes. He didn't, but I bet he hurt you inside. The man who took such pride in you as a child, unlocks the door and tells you to get out of his house. And oh, Freddy, I screamed at him after, told him he'd lost me my son- did you care? No.

The little boy I loved and still love is buried under the evil she's put in you. She's killed my little boy as surely as if she'd thrust a knife through your ribs, Freddy. And she's killed us as well.

I leave this on your phone, Freddy; even though I know you won't respond, I squander my money on you. The phone I bought you and you unwrapped on Christmas Day, held up to the light and smiled at, sitting there in your pyjamas and with the ascot your uncle bought you round your neck. I bet you don't wear it now. Even though it's all you've got to remind you of him. You leave it in your bag now, forget him. You wore it every day in his memory, but I bet that's a memory now. Oh, it would kill me to see you now, but every morning I wish you were in your bedroom asleep, waiting for me to wake you. I even go in there on my way to the bathroom, and I touch the mattress and run my finger over the electric calendar, frozen on the day you left, the thirty-first. Did you stop it for that reason, Freddy, so that I would remember you leaving? If that's why you stopped it, it's worked.

I know I've said a lot. But call me back, Freddy. For once in your life, listen to me. Call me back. Come back home.