One for the road - first draft short story

One for the road

“You can’t hide, you can’t hide, you can’t hide your Poker face. Poke – poke- poke – poke-poker face”

Kathy and her best friend Jenny were pissed as farts, trying to poke holes in each other with trifle sticky fingers.

“Ow that was my eye you bastard”

“Oops it’s my motor-co-ordination Jen –it’s totally gone, along with my x-ray vision.   Must be the seventeen glasses of  m and s prosecco –  two for one if you buy the shop”

The bride and bridesmaid were now a heap of  spangly tutu on the parque dance floor. Bits of stray sultana and marzipan stuck to their knees. Kath’s left nipple escaped from her boob tube.

Wehey! The bride’s getting her tits out boys! Calling all post-grad’s to the dancefloor. Soft porn action alert!”

“Shutup Gary! Just cos you’re my husband doesn’t mean you can pimp me”

“I thought that was the whole point. Legitamise the business, sell the wares instead of giving them away”

“Put a sock in it and fuck me – no need to wait for the honeymoon suite, let’s do it right here. Right now, on the floor of Bakewell Town Hall”

Kath, the bride, big on personality small on mystery, hitched her tit back into the inadequate C cup and pulled Gary, her husband, big of tie,  big of belly, on top of her.

“Fight, Fight, Fight, Fight!”  Jenny, best friend and bridesmaid, a pocket dynamo of a Sheffield hairdresser was egging them both on, which was ironic really. See, Gary was going out with Jenny when he met Kath, but Jenny had got a bit bored and was shagging Dez, a Sheffield United apprentice that had come in for the regulation short back and sides. He had a better six pack, well, he had a six pack. She didn’t want to break Gary’s heart so Jenny had invited her best friend to a few clubs on a Saturday night, made sure she spiked their drinks with double shots of vodka and practically thrown them on her bed and locked the door. It was the equivelant of putting two sex-starved bromide induced rats in solitary confinement. Result, Gary and Kath went at it like, er, rats in a cage, and once they had jenny’s blessing had carried on ever since. Now six months down the line they were getting married and very pissed with 109 graduates from Sheffield Hallam’s business studies B Sc class of 2009.

“Gary, Gary look over there!”

“What?”

“Grab his trousers lads!”  In half a second twenty boys were pulling Gary’s kecks off and Jenny was running across the dewy lawns toward the water feature

“Come and Get me! Come on Gary! Chase me chase me” Jenny was swirling the Top Shop shiny grey drainpipes above her head, and sprinting bare foot, heels in the free hand.

“Oi, Jen come here, that’s not funny. Give em back you slag”

Gary hurtled after her, Calvin Klein rip off boxers unable to prevent his todger flapping in the chilly Northern night. 

“Woo hoo, I can see yohr pinky I can see your Pinky”

“It’s nothing uou haven’t seen before is it?”

“Well I haven’t seen it that small actually gary

It’s the cold my nuts are freezing off

Get away it never gets any bigger

Does it gets to nine inches

Ooo boasty show us I dare you come on lover boy show us what Kath’s got to look forward to for the next fifty years

Alright I will I will if you stand still a bit

Jenny stopped at the edge of the canal, camouflaged by the foliage

Come on then sexy. Show us your damaged goods. I dare you. An if it gets to nine inches I’ll suck you off as a reward

Gary started breathing heavily. He was knackered it was true but it wasn’t just that. H ehad his hand on his white goods now, Jenny was on her knees in preparation.

“Fuck it Jenny You are so sexy I cant help it I cant help the fact that I still fancy the pants off you

Come here big boy – here s your reward

Back inside Kath was looking for her husband. She’d had a brillian night, best night of her life but she was ready to go back to the room, finish off a perfect night with a perfect shag, okay theyd shagged for England for the last six months but this was the special one the first one legitamate the first one married, the first one that would seal their love for the rest of their lives – and she reall y ddi love gary – he was a brilliant bloke and a good egg – he had a good job earning twice as much as any of his peers – he d won the graduate prize a year on the sales team at Arcadia group in Sheffield and he was earmarked as a top manager of the future. And he was good fun too. The team joker, and her mum liked him too. The perfect package.

Kath was in the garden now

“Gary, Gary, where the fuck are you?

Kath could hear what sounded like a fox a kind of low moaning, and it was getting loader. When Kath gaot closer tho the river she could make out a silhouette, it didn’t look like a fox or an y kind of animal, and there were definitely two types of sound, and they were human. Kath’s heart was pounding, she couldn’t hold her shoes anymore they slipped out of her pam which was dripping with sweat. She could feel tears stinging her cheeks, already  chapped by the wind. She recognised the low moan, she had heard it many many times during the passionate sex charged half a year in what had been the best sex of her life with Gary, yes she recognized this uninhibited expression of male pleasure, she recognized it, the sound of her loving husband, the sound of Gary and she could see Jenny’s pink top, which was lying on the grass, next to two people shagging the living daylights out of each other.

Kath turned and walked back the way she had come. In the ten yards walk back to the town hall she made a decision. She told herself she hadn’t been out in the garden next to the river hearing foxes seeing red tops thirty seconds ago, she had been on the dance floor dancing to Fat Boy Slim right here, right now. She hadn’t seen it so it didn’t exist. This act of betrayal. It didn’t exist. Gary was hers, and would always be hers. He was loyal. He was faithful. He was the perfect package.

“Hey Kath come on we’re all dancing to Hi Ho Silver Lining – come on strut your funky stuff babe”

about fifteen of her best, best friends lifted Kath and carried her above their heads onto the dance floor.

“Bumps, bumps, bumps – give the bride the bumps”

“one, two, three, four….” How many are they going to give me Kath pondered? One for every year of my life? One for every day of my marriage? One for every second it took to betray me? Kath detached her mind from the world around her and prepared for the future. Her friends laughed and threw. Laughed and threw. Over and over again.

They didn’t notice the tears dropping from their bride’s smudged eyes five feet onto the sticky parquee floor.

Passive aggressive

Passive aggressive – a short story by Tony Bell (1460 words)

Ruth left without warning. Her determination carrying her into the street so fast she forgot to close the door. Once she hit the pavement she glanced back for a second, thought about shutting the door, flagged a taxi, and got in. The whole journey from kitchen to black cab had taken thirty seconds. Time was of the essence. Security of property and possessions was not. If she was burgled, and she’d scuppered the insurance claim, that didn’t matter. In the scheme of things. She had to be there now, sooner than now, and all other considerations were secondary.

“I need to get to St George’s Hospital Tooting, my daughter’s had an accident, so sorry, but can we break all the rules and get there as quickly as possible”

Ruth checked her pockets for her wallet, better to pay him en route, that would save valuable seconds. She noticed her palms were moist, droplets of water forming, and it wasn’t raining, it was the driest June since the millennium. This wasn’t rain, it was sweat. She wiped her hands with a tissue she found in her handbag. She could smell the onions she’d been chopping for the mushroom risotto, Polly’s favourite, a treat for getting through her piano exam, unscathed. Ruth shivered. Unscathed. The woman from the hospital had mentioned concussion, lacerations, a suspected broken arm. Ruth was furious with herself for making her daughter play the piano, when her daughter preferred more active hobbies, like football, climbing, cycling. She cursed herself a second time. Why hadn’t she banned Polly from cycling on the main road? The accident had happened on the A23, the direct route from Merton to Central London – what the bloody hell was Polly doing on that road at four in the afternoon? Ruth was certain she was a terrible mother. Ruth was certain she was a terrible person. Polly’s father had left just before her twelfth birthday and here she was twelve, wonderfully individual, unconscious, and alone.

Forty five minutes was pretty good going. But still forty five minutes too long. By the time Ruth reached Accident and Emergency Polly had been taken to the X-Ray clinic and there was nothing to do but sit and wait. Adrenalin was making that impossible so she stood and read a poster about NHS cuts.

“Are you the mother?”  A nurse was asking her questions. Ruth nodded. She was sure the next question would be how could you let this happen? And she didn’t have the answer to that one. She’d been trying to find it all the way from Camden to Tooting.

“Is there anyone else we should contact?” The nurse was a severe looking twenty something, with swept back hair in a ponytail and too much foundation. Ruth touched her face self-consciously. She hadn’t done her make-up since this morning and tears had smudged the mascara into grey patches which made her look out of control.

“Is there anyone else we should contact?”

“I heard you the first time”

 Ruth was edgier, more defensive than she wanted to be. She was usually quite the opposite. Passive aggressive that’s what Michael had called her, many times, before he found someone more active, less aggressive, at an HSBC team building conference and joined forces with Caroline from the Woking branch. They set up a brand new two person team after the conference, though Ruth wasn’t sure that was the aim of the “building” bit of it. The nurse was losing her cool.

“I’m sorry Mrs, er, Ramsden, but do you know of anyone else we need to contact?”

“Michael”

“I’m sorry?”

“Michael, you need to contact Michael”

“And Michael is ….. who, exactly?”

“Good question”

“I’m sorry?”

“He’s her father”

“Oh I see, great, do you want to call him ?”

“Not particularly”

“Oh….”      Ruth noticed the nurse pushing a stray hair back into place

“Would you like us to contact him?”

“Yes please” Why wasn’t she doing it then? Why was she so close, it was making her claustrophobic.

“Can you give me the number then?”

“What?”

“The number, can you give me the number?”

Ruth scrolled through her contact list, she always resented this, she resented having to contact him, she resented not being able to obliterate him from her life. She resented being reminded of the weeks of suspicion culminating in an undignified drive to Woking at three on a Sunday morning to wake her husband from a naked slumber with a woman fifteen years her junior. The whole split had been awful and she really didn’t want to remember, but here she was reading out his number to a nurse not much older than her husband’s new lover.

“How long will she be?” The Nurse had moved to the desk to give the receptionist the number.

“I said how long before I can see my daughter”

“Shouldn’t be too long, would you like a hot chocolate?”

“Yes please” Anything, anything to take her mind off her messed up life. Ruth made a mental note to book another appointment with the therapist when this dreadful business was over.

“Where is she? Where’s Polly?” Michael looked younger, there was a spring in his step. Ruth chose to ignore the tone of accusation. “She’s having an X-Ray, she won’t be long”

“What the hell happened Ruth? What was she doing cycling in London?  It’s a deathtrap”

Ruth didn’t answer, she’d learnt to batten down the hatches when he was in this mood. Her therapist had taught her not to let him destroy her self-esteem.

“Are you listening to me? Are you?”  Fatally Ruth looked up.

“Was she wearing a helmet? Lights? Protective, visible clothing? Do you know anything about your daughter Ruth?” The mascara was getting another watering. Ruth lowered her head so he couldn’t see and cursed herself for letting him get through her defences.

“You can’t let your own issues affect your parenting. You’ve got to get yourself together before something terrible happens”

“Something terrible has happened Michael, your daughter is in hospital, and don’t you dare put all this on me. Who started it Michael? Who left their daughter in the first place? I’ve been there for her Michael, have you? Have you? Have……”

Ruth crumpled inside and out. She’d lost the will to continue the argument, her forty two years a huge, suffocating weight. Yes Michael had started it, but she had to admit that now she was unable to cope, he had broken her, she roared like a wounded animal

“Why isn’t my daughter out of the theatre?”

“She is Mrs Renshaw, she’s waiting for you now, Ward 10 if you’d both like to come and see her”

Ruth looked up. There was something different about the Nurse, had she taken her make-up off, she spotted little splodges of grey under her eyes that matched her own. It made her look vulnerable, more human.

“I’m sorry I don’t know your name?”

“I’m Rachel, Mrs Renshaw, Nurse Rachel, and can I say you have a wonderful daughter. She’s been so brave”

“Is she alright, please tell me she’s alright”

“She’s fine Mrs Renshaw, nothing broken, no concussion, just a headache, saved by her helmet I reckon”

Michael looked away. He’d loosened his tie. Still he wouldn’t look at Ruth.

“But come and see for yourself” The nurse opened the door.

“Your mum and dad are here Polly”

Ruth was struck by how tiny her daughter looked in the bed. Her head was peeping out of the pristine white sheet and light green blanket. She looked like the Princess in The Princess and the Pea. They’d read that together, all three of them, in the days before their perfect family had been shattered.

“Mum, Dad, this is a surprise. Both my parents in the same room, that’s a first in 2010. I should have bicycle crashes more often.”

Michael’s shoulders were shaking.

“And holding hands too. Stop it, you’ll make me cry and that’ll set my ribs off again”

Ruth felt Michael’s hand wrap hers. She’d forgotten what that felt like. A weight released from her legs, her body. She closed hershaking fingers around his. Michael took hold of Polly’s hand with the one that he had free and for a moment the family was linked, mother to father, father to daughter. No-one spoke.  Michael mouthed “I’m so sorry”, she squeezed his hand again. She wanted to say “You think you can pretend nothing ever happened but you can’t because I can never forgive you Michael, never, and this isn’t for you, this is for my daughter”, but she didn’t. She smiled. Polly laughed and then winced. She thinks the family is back, Ruth thought, she thinks we’re back.

Secret Santa - a fifteen minute stage play

Canned carols Play over the tannoy. A woman Dressed as Father christmas sits with her back to the audience in front of a mirror Removing her beard and make up. She Keeps her costume on. A large man dressed as father Christmas enters and Addresses the audience

BILLY:     Sorry I’m late ladies and gentlemen Rudolph needed a number two but we found a toilet in the car park, so it’s crisis over and on with the show. Merry Christmas everybody, yo ho ho. Lovely to see you all looking so christmassy. I’m Father Christmas in case you were wondering and this is Long Eaton Toys R Us Basement Grotto. Do you like the decorations? Minimalist I think you’d call them. Unlike my padding. I’m sweating like a banshee under here.

               Did I hear you joining in with the carols while I was parking my sleigh? Was it you Marjorie? And you sir? What a pair of vocal miracles you are. Young Marjorie with her bass profundo and little Michael with his cheeky falsetto. Are you a castrati sir or is it the cut of your trousers? Who says they only breed them in the valleys? Michael could give those welsh rarebits a run for their money any day of the week. I’d bet my wife on it – if I had one – which I haven’t ‘cause I’m Father Christmas and he’s single or celibate or abstinate or summat – careful Santa you’re going off piste – take a breath mate – phoof that’s better – lost it for a moment there ladies and gents but we’re back on track now thank Christ

MUM:     Don’t blaspheme Billy

BILLY:     Sorry mum -  

               Hands up if you believe in Santa Claus? Don’t be shy boys and girls. I’m soft as a teddy bear really. You’ve heard of the BFG haven’t you? The Big Friendly Giant? Well I’m the BFGFC the Big Friendly Giant Father Christmas. So come on, hands up. Who believes in Santa? All of you? Fantastic. Except Gladys here. What a miserable, sad, faithless existence you must lead Gladys. Only joking, you probably believe in lots of things don’t you? What’s that? eBay? You believe in eBay? Who said the spirit of Christmas is dead. It’s alive and kicking on Gladys’s laptop. Well we shan’t let her spoil our fun shall we? It is Christmas after all and (sings)tis the season to be jolly tra la la la la la la la la. Join in Marjorie. Too late the moment’s gone. Carpe deum Marjorie carpe deum. Sieze the day. Talking of which it’s time to seize the hand of the person next to you for our audience participation number ladies and gents so all stand up, join hands and put on your metaphorical dancing shoes for the Long Eaton Toys R US Christmas line dance. After three – one, two, three -

MUM:     Give it a rest Billy there’s a good boy. I’m tired. And I expect they are too

BILLY:     No they’re loving it - except Gladys

MUM:     Do us a favour and put your feet up there’s a love. It’ll be time for tea soon (Billy takes off his beard and wig but keeps his costume on)

Billy:     What are we having tonight mum?

MUM:     Lamb hot pot

BILLY:     Can I just have the dumplings please?

MUM:     Course you can Billy

Billy:     Fantastic (to the audience) Ladies and gentlemen this is my mum. Say hello mum

MUM:     Hello

BILLY:     A woman of few words but every one a wise one

MUM:           My son on the other hand ladies and gentlemen

BiLLY:     Can you not interrupt please

MUM:           Sorry Billy

BILLY:     We live together. Same house I grew up in. 52 Adbolton Grove

MUM:           Don’t tell them the number we’ll have them all round for dumplings

BILLY:         I moved back last month. Then I got the job at the grotto. I’ve had previous experience you see

MUM:     He’s done all kinds of entertaining

Billy:     I’ve been Father Christmas three times, twice at Selfridges and once at Harrods but I got sacked

MUM:     What for?

BILLY:     I told everyone there were six santas 

MUM:     Oh Billy

BILLY:     They said I was single-handedly ruining the magic of Christmas. Then I got a job on the queue making balloon animals, but I could only do dogs and kept bursting their heads, so I tried juggling with apples and eating them at the same time. Choked on a core and was sick in a Woolworths bag so they put me in the fish department. On the display. I had to change it once a month when the fish had maggots and smelt of sewage. I was sick again. I tried stand up comedy only I got terrible stage fright. I used to throw up in the toilets and climb out through the window before they called me on. I’ve never given up on my dream to be a performer though. I believe it’s my destiny. And since I’ve been back with mum I’ve had more confidence

MUM:     He’s calmed down a lot

BILLY:     That’s why I got her a job here so she can support me. You’ve seen how I really take off in my role when I know I’ve got her backstage. It’s a completely different me out there      

MUM:     He usually bumps into things

BILLY:     I’m highly strung

mum:     He’s hyperactive

BILLY:     I’m always fainting for no reason. I’ll be running really fast – they call me runner bean – and then I’ll faint, wake up with all these eyes looking at me “There’s runner bean, he’s done it again. He’s run and then he’s fainted”

MUM:     He wets the bed an all

BILLY:     I don’t mum

MUM:     You used to

BILLY:     When I was little 

MUM:     I was forever changing his bedclothes    

BILLY:     I’d dream I’d gone to the toilet then wake up with steam coming off the sheets

MUM:     You had nightmares too

BILLY:     I’d be dying of sunstroke, the blankets would be these weird sand mountains

MUM:     He’d shout for me downstairs

BILLY:     “they’re too smooth mum the blankets are too smooth”

MUM:     The sheets would be sopping

BILLY:         That was sweat

MUM:     He’d come home with his shorts sopping too. Straight in the wash they went before the ammonia took hold

BILLY:     All kids have accidents mum look at the ones in here they’re forever leaving damp patches

MUM:     They’re only two Billy you did it when you were fifteen

BILLY:     Don’t exaggerate

MUM:     What about the silver jubilee party

Billy:     The posh one at your brother’s house

MUM:     Luckily the starter was smoked salmon so only a trained nose could smell you

Billy:         I was caught short. Poppy was playing tennis and I didn’t want to stop watching - I really fancied her

MUM:     She’s your cousin

BILLY:     I wanted to look at her tennis dress

MUM:           She’s still your cousin

BILLY:     The toilet was occupied so I ran into the woods. Then it came. My trousers were sticking to my legs but Poppy could still see so I kept running then I saw the river. I jumped in and swished about a bit so it looked like I fell in

MUM:     She’s twenty stone now and lives with six dogs

BILLY:     Did they believe you?

MUM:     What about?

BILLY:     When you told them I fell in the river?

MUM:     You worry too much Billy that was thirty odd years ago    

BILLY:     But I can remember everything as if it was yesterday

MUM:     Pity you can’t remember your train fare then isn’t it….and you’re forever losing your mobile and your ipod and your wallet – I’ve started to put name tags on everything but it doesn’t make the blind bit of difference. You’re just one of life’s dreamer’s aren’t you?

BILLY:     I think a lot Mum. About things. About you and dad

MUM:     You think too much that’s your problem       

BILLY:     Why did you marry him mum?

MUM:     What sort of question is that Billy?

BILLY:     He just potters about doing nothing - well doing a lot of things that amount to nothing

MUM:     That’s the pot calling the kettle

BILLY:     He must be such a burden to you

MUM:     You’re all a burden to me that’s my role in life, to carry you on my apron strings

BILLY:     This isn’t a DH Lawrence novel mum

MUM:     More’s the pity

BILLY:     This is real life – me and you making up for lost time – trying to get to the bottom of things

mum:     Calm down you’re getting yourself worked up

billy:     Because I’ve got a lot to sort out – I’m still having them mum. The sweats and the nightmares

MUM:     You’re not still wetting yourself I hope

BILLY:     I can’t sleep especially after Maggie had the miscarriage

MUM:     You never told me she was pregnant

BILLY:     I never got the chance she lost it after six weeks

MUM:     I’m sorry Billy

BILLY:     Set her heart on having kids – last chance and all that

MUM:     There’s still time

BILLY:     No there isn’t she split up with us last month, that’s why I came home

MUM:     You’ll get back together again I’m sure of it  

BILLY:     She’s met someone else

MUM:     When?

BILLY:     She went on holiday to Ireland and never came back

MUM:     Bugger me – ‘scuse my french

BILLY:     She did come back once – I saw her car there

mum:     You’re not stalking her are you?

BILLY:     She wouldn’t let me in so I kept buzzing. Then she told me she’d met someone else and it was “pure love” so I said “that’s what you said about us” then she said she’d been deluded so I looked through the window and he was there all young and slim and curly. She was standing next to him. They looked really happy so I cycled home. That’s when she texted me

MUM:     What did it say?

BILLY:     “never contact me again”

MUM:     There’s plenty more fish in the sea Billy

BILLY:     I could always go round and see Lucy she only lives up the road

MUM:     Don’t be ridiculous you haven’t seen her since school she’s probably a grandmother  

MUM:     I saw her when I left uni actually

MUM:     Where?

BILLY:     At her wedding

MUM:     I rest my case

Billy:     She might be divorced

MUM:     Grow up Billy

BILLY:     You’re the one that said the thing about the fish

MUM:     I was being flippant why do you take everything to heart? You’re just like your father

BILLY:     I hope not

MUM:     You could do a lot worse

BILLY:     I could do a lot better

MUM:           I don’t know why you’ve got it in for him   

BILLY:         I don’t know why you stick up for him

MUM:     Because he’s my husband

BILLY:     But he’s always putting you down

MUM:     That’s marriage Billy it’s not perfect 

BILLY:     I saw him hit you once

MUM:     When?

BILLY:     December 26^th 1998

MUM:     You’re very precise

BILLY:         You don’t forget something like that

MUM:     Well I don’t remember, besides Christmas is a stressful time

BILLY:     It was premeditated 

MUM:     I don’t want to talk about it

Billy:     When I was thirteen I was obsessed with Keith Moon so I told Dad I wanted a drum kit. Christmas day I woke up with something squashing my legs. I looked down and this silver snare drum glinted at me. It was brilliant. I hunted in my bedroom for the cymbals and the tom toms and the hi-hat. I couldn’t find any, then Dad came in. “Did you get your drum Billy?” “Yeah, thanks Dad.” He started laughing: “No more marks on the coffee table now you’ve got a proper one to bash.” Then I knew that was it, that was my present. No hi-hat no tom toms no crash cymbal just a snare drum. You can’t play anything on one drum. You need a drum kit. A drum kit or nothing

MUM:     Your dad spent hours choosing that

BILLY:     But it wasn’t what I wanted

MUM:     You’re so ungrateful. It cost twenty five pounds  that’s a lot of money back then

BILLY:     It wasn’t the money it was that he didn’t understand. I was going to be a rock drummer I wasn’t joining the boys brigade

MUM:     You should have grown up during the war then you’d be grateful

BILLY:     The Christmas before I wanted a Forest football shirt. So what did he get me? A rugby shirt from Wakefields.  I was always last pick because no-one wanted me in their team

MUM:     Why not for god’s sake?

BILLY:     They all had proper colours. They could pretend to be Forest or Derby but they couldn’t pretend to be the Wakefield Shop

MUM:     Well I never fitted in at school Billy, nor did your father. Actually I think anyone who doesn’t fit in is going the right way about it – who wants to be conventional? 

BILLY:     I do mum I do – I want to fit in – I want to be normal - I want to sleep without sweating I want to wake up without shaking

MUM:     That’s down to you Billy

BILLY:         No it’s not. You brought me up to be the perfect target for school bullies. Over-sensitive, eccentric and pseudo-intellectual  

MUM:           Don’t get dramatic you’ll only start fainting again

BILLY:     You made me wear a kilt to every Christmas party. Other kids got to wear normal clothes which kind of changed every time but I was in the same woollen skirt and I wasn’t even Scottish

MUM:     Your great great grandad was

BILLY:     Oh right so I was an eighth Scottish ergo I had to go through the same ritual humiliation every year - that was only right and proper

MUM:     You’ve had a tough time of late you’re bound to feel bitter

BILLY:     I don’t feel bitter I feel lost – and it’s been building up way before Maggie left – it started at primary school and kept going – I was the last to go from shorts to long trousers, I wore drainpipes that were too short and wedges that were too big when everyone else wore flares and doc martins

MUM:     Only fascists wear those Billy – is that what you want to be?

BILLY:     The shoes mum not the boots they’re just ordinary shoes – when I got into fights you said turn the other cheek and what happened? They punched that one as well – when election time came you shouted “Vote Labour” through a loud speaker when everyone voted conservative

MUM:     What’s that got to do with the price of cheese?

BILLY:     They used to beat me up for it

MUM:     You never told me

BILLY:     It wasn’t news they beat me up all the time

MUM:           Don’t exaggerate

BILLY:     You made me take French horn lessons and they’d kick me in the back until I dropped the case

MUM:           We wanted you to have opportunities

BILLY:     When I was with Lucy Dad forced me to dump her so I could revise for my O-levels and every night I stayed in you yelled at each other until one of you slammed the door and left

MUM:     We always came back

BILLY:     But what if you hadn’t? I lived with the fear that one day you might keep on walking and frankly I’m surprised you didn’t, Dad was genuinely frightening – I’d hear the door go at the top of the stairs and if Planet of the Apes was on I’d get a belting for not helping with the tea – he never helped with the tea

MUM:     Your father was under a lot of stress when you were a teenager

BILLY:     Well he dumped it all on us mum – you can’t deny it – he was a monster – and I can’t forgive him

MUM:     You’re forty seven Billy - it’s time you stopped blaming everyone else. Whatever mistakes your Dad and I made we tried our best. No-one tells you how to do it, there’s no road map, we make it up as we go along just as you did

BILLY:     Just as I did what?

MUM:     You left home at eighteen and never came back

BILLY:         I did come back

MUM:     When?

BILLY:         I was there at Christmas

MUM:     Once or twice Billy and you’d be off the next morning, sometimes the night before, you couldn’t get away fast enough

BILLY:     I’m not surprised you could cut the atmosphere with a knife

MUM:     Whose fault was that?

BILLY:     Dad’s

MUM:     For goodness sake

BILLY:     It’s true

MUM:     And when did we ever get an invitation?

BILLY:     I was never very settled

MUM:     All that time you’ve been holding onto this resentment when you could have just let it go

BILLY:     It’s not that easy mum

MUM:     We only get one shot at it Billy and much as I’m happy to have you now what a shame all those years have passed when we never saw hide nor hair of you

BILLY:     I couldn’t help it

MUM:           Why Billy? Why was it so hard?

BILLY:     I needed to find my own way without Dad breathing down my neck

MUM:     You could have come to see me

BILLY:     You were never on your own mum

MUM:     Your Dad thought it was me, thought I was the reason

BILLY:     That’s bollocks, you were the life and soul. Think what you could have been if you hadn’t had him to look after

MUM:     or you

BILLY:     Don’t change the subject you know he dragged you down

mum:     You have no idea about me and your Dad Billy no idea at all you’re too wrapped up in yourself 

BILLY:     He used to hit you

MUM:     Once Billy once, which is less than you hit both of us

BILLY:     I was a troubled adolescent

MUM:     And I forgive you just as you should him

BILLY:     I’m struggling

MUM:     I need to say something Billy

BILLY:     Well say it

MUM:     I need you to be listening

BILLY:     I am

MUM:     Properly listening I know what you’re like

BILLY:     I’m all ears

MUM:     You know Grandma was paralysed

BILLY:     I knew she couldn’t walk much

MUM:     She was fine before she had a nasty fall

BILLY:         When was that?

MUM:     Just before I was born

BILLY:     Right

MUM:     She fell because she was pregnant with me – because she was carrying me 

BILLy:     Right

MUM:     She didn’t like me much after that, when I was born, she was an absolute cow to me in fact

BILLY:     She was always lovely to me

MUM:     Yes I know she was lovely to you Billy but I had a very tough time with my mother – she knocked all the confidence out of me

BILLY:     I’m sorry mum

MUM:     Then your Dad came along and put me back together again, it was a proper love affair              

BILLY:     Right

MUM:     and out of that love affair came you

BILLY:     Right

MUM:     You were made with love Billy – I want you to remember that

BILLY:     Okay

MUM:     Promise me you’ll look after him when I’m gone

Billy:     You’re not going anywhere

MUM:     Promise me that Billy

Billy:     Okay

MUM:     You will be there for him won’t you – I’m relying on you

BILLY’S Father enters

BILLY:     Speak of the devil 

he is a frail man. as he walks to Billy mum leaves the opposite way at the same pace. she looks at them both for the last time. neither Billy nor dad SEE HER GO

BILLY:     Hi Dad – safe journey?

DAD:     Not too bad – busy day?

BILLY:     So,so

DAD:     Am I early? I could go up to the canteen and get a bite if you like? Come down when you’re finished

BILLY:     It’s okay Dad I’ll cook for us. How does shepherd’s pie sound?

DAD:     What about your shift?

Billy:     I’ll get one of the others to fill in for me – it’s been quite a day actually

Dad:     It has. I think the weather’s changed, started getting dark about three when I was dusting mum’s photos. Went through her books today – put some in a box for the labour party and some for Oxfam in time for Christmas. Can’t believe it’s nearly a year still feels like yesterday

BILLY:     I know. Just been thinking about her actually

DAD:     I think about her all the time. Can’t help it. It’s good to have you home Billy. Stops me rattling around the place like Miss Haversham

BILLY:         It’s not a chore Dad, I like the company

DAD:           Making up for lost time are we?

BILLY:     Better late than never eh?

DAD:     Time-keeping was never your strong point Billy

BILLY:     Speaking of which I’d better get the tea on

DAD:     I’ll bring the car round  - see you in a minute  then son  

BILLY:     Yeah thanks Dad. Won’t be long DAD EXITS                      

BIlly:     (as he changes into civvies) Forgot about you all for a moment there. In a world of my own. Bob’s going to take over soon. He’s a great Santa – takes his time, really listens. You’ll love him. (BEAT) Right, I’m off then. Merry Christmas if I don’t see you again. Keep up the lovely singing Marjorie, oh and Gladys – you keep on bidding if it makes you happy. We only get one shot at it don’t we? Cheerio.(to himself as he picks up jacket and exits) tis the season to be merry tra la la la la la la la la        EXITS       

stuck - a one man play

Lifes a fucker isn’t it. Actually my life’s a fucker. Infact it’s me whose the fucker. Life just is. I told you I was a narcissist didn’t I? Didn’t I? Well I am. I’m an actor. Some of the time. Well a tiny fuckin fraction of the time. The rest of the time I’m doing this in my head. Going round and round and round. In circles. If you thought this was going to be one of those interesting fringe shows with a plot and characters and topical relevance then I’m sorry. This has no set and no acting. And no play. It’s a no play – but its not Japanese. Its culturally monosyballic. It’s not event theatre. It s non - event theatre. And it’s all made up. Or is it? Not really. It’s one of those things that pretends to be impro but is actually all scripted and the actor is just pretending he’s skatting on a theme. And a theme of what? Narcissistic nonsense.

Where were we? Oh yeah. I remember. And another thing. This isn’t a play about sex. Or rather it is. But it’s not pretending to be something else other than about sex. And male adolescent self-harming sex at that. I saw a play last week – one actor dressed in combats and pecs all he said for ten minutes was “I want to come on your face” “When can I come on your face?” “It’s my right to come on your face!” The woman in the play – it was a two-hander – didn’t want him to come on her face. That was the basic dramatic conflict of the piece. She was desperate, unemployable and had sold her dignity – and the character was the same. IT WAS BOLLOCKS. The critics loved it. It was a metaphor for the Politics of War apparently. No it wasn’t – it was a metaphor for SHITE. An eight year old was there with her mum and dad – it was an open air matinee. She kept saying “Mummy it’s disgusting” – an honest critic at last. Lets hope you are all one of those. If you don’t like it think with your feet. Get up and walk out or shout GET OFF or  “We got it the first time and it wasn’t funny then, get on with it!” I don’t want this to be polite passive theatre you’re all implicated in my messy life for this next three hours. It’ll be one hour next week but this is the first preview and I haven’t cut it yet. I  starred in a play at an old peoples home once. I’d just learnt how to project or shout in other words and after 30 SECONDS OF SHOUTING a granny shouted back – “For god’s sake make him stop please please nurse make him stop!” 

So if you’re pathologically bored just shout make him stop. I’ll carry on cos I’ve paid for the venue but it’ll be interesting to see how my ego copes. Right let’s start. This is the story of my life. My fucked up life. It starts now. Today. I’m 46 my name is Stepehn Cherry – actually it’s Tony Bell but for the purposes of art and distance and to prove that I don’t only play myself for now it’s Stephen Cherry, and I’m a  recovering co-dependent bulimic and sex addict. Two of those statements are bullshit. The third is fiction. My partner has just left me. Well, six months ago actually but when I wrote that sentence it was the week after. It takes that long to write this shit and even longer to get the venue. The first woman or girl (I’m not sure how I objectified her) I ever loved – properly – I spend twenty years breaking hearts then I   fall for someone who was absolutely mental – completely different from me - and just when I  reconcile love with insanity she dumps me. She’s no longer mental she’s now very happy with a 25 year old organic farmer from Ireland – but I’m completely insane. No I haven’t always been this way. And can I just say none of this is true. It’s all made up. Including the bit about her running off with the 25 year old gardener from Cork. Im 46. How does that make you feel? She’s 42. 46 is a good age gap 25 is just LUST. Isn’t it? Just LUST. That’s the worst kind of betrayal. We had the best sex of our lives – of my life anyway – and hers too – unless she was lying – I cant believe she could be so heartless. I’m washed up. 25 – that’s 21 years younger. Its supposed to be the bloke that does that – that’s relatively normal – not the other fucking way round. How does she expect me to compete with that? The Bitch! It’s sick. I cant get the images of them doing it out of my head. At least let me have the memory of sex with her to masturbate to without seeing his nubile hunky face shafting her from behind. Ive seen him from thirty yards away. – through her bay window the one we used to sit at I saw him and he is fucking good looking fucking good looking I texted her can we talk no sorry Im away so I went round there to see if there was a picture of him on the mantelpiece where mine used to be – first I saw the Mercedes car then I saw her then I saw him I kept cycling but the image of them happy together both gorgeous I cant get rid of it I cant get rid of itHe was standing up leafing through a magazine she was talking looking straight ahead did she see me? Shell think I m stalking her – which of course I am.

I dozed off for five minutes in the dressing room well the toilet that doubles as the dressing room and when I woke up there she was in my head – in my dream coming out of my dream everywhere. I’m aware this is the psycho period. The images keep playing through in my head. The day of the split. The day of telling me she’d met someone else. The day of mum’s funeral – did I tell you that bit?   

Just before she dumped me my mum died. Actually 2 years before, and she sang at the funeral , but that feels like yesterday. It all feels like yesterday. This was supposed to be a coming of age story about growing up puberty and adolescence but the last two years hijacked that. It’s like I’ve been on some weird trip fuelled with antidepressants but the only drug I’ve been taking is Propecia to stop me going bald – I suppose it could still be about that if I can get out of this self pity – a sort of Adrian mole on Viagra – that’s what it could be….

  

Alter ego:        You’re late.  You’re so late. Why are you always late?

Stephen          :       Because I never give myself enough time

Alter:            I know……And now you’re lost

Stephen:      I know…what was the name of it?

Alter ego:           How should I know?

                  It was you he told wasn’t it?

                  No

                 Well, he didn’t tell me

                 Well, he didn’t tell me

                  Just ask

You ask

Alright I’ll ask….Could you tell me the way to - what was the name of it?

St Katherine’s

I thought you said you didn’t know

I lied

What?

I mean I forgot

What do you mean you forgot?

I mean I forgot -  then I remembered

You’re not making any sense you know that don’t you?

Well it doesn’t matter now that I’ve remembered – just ask the lady

I did

And what did she say?

Straight on

PAUSE

Which way is it?

Right here…RIGHT

Sorry

You have a terrible sense of direction

I know - are we there yet?

How do I know?

Sorry

And stop saying sorry

Sorry……I mean yes

What?

We’re here

Thank Christ - let me do the talking okay?

Okay

Could you tell me the ward for Mrs Barbara Cherry please?

Thanks

How many double doors do we go through?

Six

How do you know?

Just guessing

Well don’t - especially at a time like this

Sorry

Dad I’m late sorry

PAUSE

Oh

Sorry

Where is she?

Back in a minute then

PAUSE

Why aren’t you saying anything?

I don’t know

Not like you

I’m just looking

What is there to see?

Everything

Just looks like a dead body to me

Exactly

A dead body which is very thin and very yellow…or is it grey? 

Whatever it is it’s not mum

It’s a skeleton with skin on

It’s horrible

It’s your mum

I know…..it’s your mum

I know

But it doesn’t look like her

She had got very ill you know

I know – but even when she was puking up that black stuff she was still mum

Now she’s just a body

How long have we been here

Ages- better get back

Let me soak it in

I thought you said it was horrible

It is and it’s also fascinating

SILENCE

It’s in the memory bank

Lets go

Yeah – save it for later

PAUSE

You should have got there earlier

I know…..At least she couldn’t tell me off

For what?

Being late

Don’t be childish

Stop nagging

I’m not

Then why am I getting defensive?

That’s not my problem

No your problem is passing the buck

That’s a therapist’s job

You’re not my therapist

Go with it

Why should I?

Because you feel guilty

No I feel stuck

Same thing

How do you know?

I’m your therapist

Right

PAUSE

Shall we continue?

Okay

Why were you late?

I’m always late

Why were you late?

Because I was working

And work comes first

Yes

It’s how I define myself

Single, middle-aged with a flat for one

That’s harsh

But it doesn’t have to be like that Steve – imagine I’m your mum

No thanks

C’mon, I’m your mum and I’m dying and you got here on time – so you can tell me all the stuff you’ve never told me before

Like what?

Like you’re sorry

For what?

For being late

But I’m not now am I?

For cutting off from me

 I can’t say that

Why not?

Because you’re not my mum

That’s not why

Because I needed to find myself

“It’s okay Stephen I understand”

Do you mum? Because I don’t – I think also I didn’t like dad much and you always came as a package

“Don’t say that Stephen – Your father would be so upset”

I know but he’s a social cripple

“That’s enough”

Okay he’s not  but he is difficult sometimes – and he’s horrible to you

“He’s over- sensitive”

Think of the life you could have had if you hadn’t been doing everything for him while he got on with whatever he wanted

“That’s the pot calling the kettle”

But you could have lived so much more

“Stephen I’m tired – I need to go to sleep now – and don’t worry….you’ll only make me worry”

That was the trouble – that was it, mum, I couldn’t tell you anything that wasn’t all happy and ”it’s all going really well” because it freaked you out and you started taking it on yourself and panicking – mum - mum….

“I’m asleep”

Oh

Actually I’m dead

Don’t rub salt in the wound

And that’s also the end of the session

But I’m nowhere near resolved

How do you think I feel – vomiting shit with seconds to live while you’re bitching about the man I married behind his back –how selfish can you get

Sorry mum – I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it – forget it sorry

You don’t have to apologise all the time

I’m sorry

And you don’t have to be so intense

I know

You don’t know – bleeding heart bleeding all over the place

But I’ve just split up with my partner

What’s that got to do with anything?

I don’t know

So where are we now?

I’ve moved on from mum

I wish you’d told me

Anyhow she’s asleep – not to mention dead

True – so who am I?

You’re every younger woman I’ve ever wanted to shag

I don’t know if I can be more than one person at a time

Just do it

I need to know where this is going?

Just be open

But the audience needs to know where this is going

Oh

See

Okay - mum’s dead, and even if she weren’t I’d still feel guilty

For what?

Everything

You’ve got problems mate

I know – that’s why I talk to you

I’m not your therapist

No you’re every woman I’ve ever wanted to shag

Every younger woman

Same thing

Course

And I’ve just split up with my partner

Do you have to say partner?

Whats wrong with that?

It sounds sorted and grown up and it was the most mental relationship I’ve ever been involved with.  Anyhow first rule of dating…don’t go on about your ex

OK, well,  anyway, I went round with a bunch of flowers and she wouldn’t let me in and then I bumped into her at the lido we used to go to and she accused me of stalking her and said – childishly - go away so I said - dryly - people don’t just go away - and she told me she’d met someone else and that it was “pure love” and I said that’s what you said about us and she said she was deluded and I stayed around til the sun got too sweaty then I cycled past her house to see if there was a photo where mine used to be but she was there and  he was next to her all tall and hunky and twenty five with loads of  thick curly hair and they looked happy and uncomplicated and I hope to god she didn’t see me, she’ll think I’m stalking her or something – do you want another drink?

PAUSE

I don’t think you’re ready for another relationship yet

What about just sex?

I’m not into one night stands

Yeah right

I’m in role

Well get into one that fancies me

It’s not about that- it’s about whether you’re fucked up or not – women won’t go near a man with “I need a shag to forget” stamped on his forehead

I’ll go home and have a wank then

Take plenty of  viagra

Cheeky bastard – I feel really young at the moment

You don’t look it

I feel fourteen

The year you learnt how to

What?

Wank

I was a late starter

That’s forgivable – learning by wanking off your tennis partner is typically co-dependent of you

Most public schoolboys learn that way

You went to a comp

That’s not the point he was my best friend

Did you hit a few balls together?

Don’t be a knob

Imagine I’m him

No thanks

“Great game Stephen”

He was camper than that

“Thanks for the thrashing big boy”

Not that camp

“Do you want to come back for tea Steve?”

Yeah, that’d be great Chris -  thanks

“Have you ever read those funny half hour mags Steve? You know with the dirty cartoons?”

Yeah I think so

“They re good arent they?  I’ve got some at home we can have a look if you like”

Okay

“Leave your bike round the back Steve – hiya mum- this is Stephen from the tennis club”

Hello Mrs Jones

“We’re just going upstairs - No thanks mum we ‘ ll have a cuppa later - here they are Steve, sorry I haven’t got any proper magazines”

That’s Okay

“Have you ever wanked someone off Steve?”

No no I havent …. have you?

“Loads of times”

Who?

“James Maclachlan…Barry Hodgkinson…”

James Maclachlan – Head of Kestrel House

“Yeah – twice – he can make himself into a woman”

How do you mean?

“Yknow – you push it back and close your legs. It makes you look like you’ ve got a vagina”

And Barry Hodgkinson?

“Yeah…his knob’s a bit funny though…a bit fat”

Oh

“Do you want to have a go?”

What now?

“Yeah”

Okay

“I’ll do you and you can do me”

Okay

“Is that nice?”

Yeah

“Am I doing it how you like it?”

Yeah

“That’s good Stephen – what you’re doing – that’s really nice”

I don’t think mine’s going to work shall I just do you?

“Okay…..put your hand all the way round and go right to the end and back again”

Like this?

“Yeah – that’s good”

Is it?

“Now get faster”

Like this

“Faster and …faster”

Like thi…..oh there you are

PAUSE

Shall we go down and have that cuppa now?

I cycled home and had my first solo effort while mum was listening to the Archers

After that you couldn’t stop

How did we get into this anyway?

You’re mother died, you’re lonely - it’s like sucking your thumb

I wanked more when she was alive - my record was eight in one day

Impressive

I had the flu so I stayed off school and mum tucked me up in bed

She tucked you up?

Yeah

How old were you?

Fifteen

Okay

Then she went off to work. After the first three I went into her bedroom for adult literature . I knew she had the female  eunuch and I thought there might be pictures in that. There weren’t, then I found the Joy of Sex but it didn’t turn me on – it was just drawings and everyone had beards - Including the women - not on their face but on their armpits and other bits

Right

Anyway, when I put that back I found another book about a teacher giving detention to a pupil  – the pictures showed this sixties teacher and pupil getting up to stuff. He was muscly but kept his trousers on and she had these brown sticking-out nipples with false eyelashes. I took it back to my bedroom and kept going all afternoon. Mum came back from work about six  and came up to see me. I was still a bit flushed. She noticed her  book by the pillow when she went to stroke my forehead ….

“DON’T YOU EVER SMACK GO INTO OUR BEDROOM AGAIN – DO. SMACK. YOU.  SMACK. HEAR ME? SMACK.”

Yes Mum

“AND DON’T YOU EVER SMACK STEAL SMACK ANYTHING SMACK THAT DOES NOT SMACK BELONG TO YOU SMACK EVER.SMACK  EVER SMACK EVER AGAIN. HOW DARE SMACK YOU. HOW DARE SMACK YOU…..SMACK”

I stole a packet of refreshers the week after and only managed to sleep once I’d told

mum. The same when I was in hospital with a hernia. All the kids in the ward went stir crazy and threw paper aeroplanes out of the window – I didn’t want to join in but I threw one out once the peer pressure got too stressful

Mum did you see anything on the pavement when you came up. Did you see a paper aeroplane?

“No Stephen I didn’t”

If you see one when you go out will you pick it up and put it in the wastepaper basket?

You were very nervous as a child

I couldn’t stop pissing my pants

 “Did you do that Stephen Cherry”

PAUSE

“I asked you a question – Did you do that?”

Yes Miss

“Fetch a mop and clean it up and then you can go home”

PAUSE

“Get on with it then?”

Where’s the mop?

“It’s in the cupboard where do you think?”

“And hurry up – you’re not the only one with a home to go to you know”

Sorry I’m late Mum.

“As long as you tell me why I don’t mind”

We had to put our hands on our heads because we were talking and Paul Dodd wouldn’t stop talking and I needed the toilet and we couldn’t go until we were quiet and I couldn’t wait. Then I had to clear it up with a mop and that’s why I’m late….Sorry

“Well I’m glad you told me the truth Stephen”

You pissed your pants whenever you went on holiday

It was the different beds

And when you got dropped from the cubs football team

And when I went to that posh party for the silver jubilee

Mum can you smell anything? Can you smell wee-wee?

“Yes I think I can Stephen”

It’s my trousers. I was watching Poppy play tennis – I was the ball boy – and I wanted the toilet but I couldn’t go in the house it was too crowded and that man was there talking to you with the big cigar and the hankerchief on his suit and so I waited but then I felt it coming so I ran into the woods but Poppy could still see so I ran a bit further but it was too late and it started to come so I kept on running  but my trousers were sticking to my legs and steam was coming out and I couldn’t go back then I saw the river so I jumped in and swished about a bit so it looked like I fell in. I’m sorry mum. When they ask you what happened will you tell them I fell in the river?

“Of course I will Stephen…and don’t worry so much”

Scene 9

I used to dream I was on the toilet and wake up in bed with piss everywhere

I used to shit myself too

Only when you were nervous

I’d  been home for mince and chips with mum and I was a bit late for afternoon school – so I panicked and ran too fast – and shat my pants. When I got there I was late anyway so the teacher made me stand on the desk and pull my trousers down so everyone could see the shit 

Bet she didn’t ask you to do that again

Then when everyone went on cub camp and had a midnight feast I fell asleep and got crème egg all over my pyjama trousers– everyone thought I’d shat myself again

They called me Smelly Cherry and sometimes Puff or Puffball

Or wanker

I’ve always been a bit obsessed with shit

Haven’t we all

But when mum got bowel cancer I got paranoid

It all started when I went to that private doctor because three antibiotic courses had failed to get rid of my bronchial cough

He asked me about family health and when I told him what mum had died of he suggested I go for a bowel check. I didn’t go for the check but I used to do my own on the toilet –  I think in The Madness of King George they call it stool inspection but I just looked at my toilet paper after I’d wiped my arse. Once I found this red worm pulsing and moving – I got the shakes and it jumped off the paper and ended on the floor. I was in Japan at the time. I searched the floor of the toilet for an hour but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I went to find the manager and told him the whole story about mum dying of bowel cancer and how I now had parasites in my bowel and how I might need a check up myself and could I go to his doctor in Tokyo tomorrow. That night I sat on the heated toilet seat looked down into the bowl and saw hundreds of these red worms. I dried the shit off them and put them in toilet paper in my wallet. The next day the manager explained my story to the doctor while I sat on the medical table. He spoke Japanese but I picked out the word Cancer. I showed the doctor the worms. They had now dried and no longer looked red or pulsing.. He examined them carefully – my hand was shaking again. After about a minute he explained, in broken English, that as far as he could tell and without forensic examination these were tiny pieces of tomato skin but that he would test my blood for cancer anyway. The next day the tests came back – no cancer, tomato skin in my fesces and above average cholestoral in my blood.  I cut down on chips and left my arse alone for a while.

Scene 11

Did you’re mum make you nervous or were you just born that way?

I think it was Dad actually

The social cripple

He used to scare the shit out of me

Can we get off that subject?

He locked himself in his bedroom doing maths problems then you’d hear the door slam and you knew if he caught you watching Bruce Forsyth or Planet of the Apes he’d be very angry

Why?

We should have been doing maths

Right

He believed in expanding the brain

Right

But he was a terrible cook

I thought mum did it all

She made him share the load when things got on top of her but I had to help, which meant doing it myself if I didn’t want food poisoning….or cheese on toast

“Come and help with the tea Stephen”

I’m doing my geography revision Dad –  you know, glaciers, ox-bow lakes,  plate techtonics…that sort of thing

“You can do it later you ve got to help with tea”

Why don’t you make it for once?

“Don’t be offensive Stephen”

I’m not being defensive.You always make me do it when it’s your day, when you know mum wants you to do it, but I only do it because I don’t want you to do it because you can’t cook, and cheese on toast doesn’t count, and I don’t want fuckin cheese on toast anyway -  not the night before my exam

PAUSE

And don’t touch my Geography file – that’s got two years notes – you twat

He threw it against the wall. The spine broke and the pages fell out. I smacked him in the face – his cheek burst like a peach. He buried his face on the bed so I couldn’t see the damage . It felt good like I’d won. Later I went into the front room to apologise and he said “That’s alright”. He went to a conference the next day and told everyone he banged into a tree

I think you over-reacted a bit

It was the night before my exams and it had been building up

What had?

My dysfunctional relationship with my father

With your mother

With my father….and my mother

Bloody hell

That’s normal for adolescents

True

It was my rebellious phase

Why can’t I wear my Oxford Bag trousers in school mum – everyone wears them.

Some people have even got patch pockets. No-one wears flags anymore?

“Flags?”

Drainpipes – and mine aren’t even drainpipes. They’re sort of half flares and they’re too short and I’ve got wedges. No-one has wedges now. Everyone’s got Doc’s.

“Docs?”

Doctor Martens

“I won’t have you wearing those anywhere. Great big violent things.”

Not the boots the shoes. Dr Marten shoes. They’re just black shoes.

“Well in that case we’ll see what we can do. I’ll take you to the Army and Navy stores on Saturday.”

But what about the Oxford Bags we got last Saturday? What’s the point in buying them if I can’t wear them? May as well take them back to the shop

“Your dad doesn’t want you to wear them to school”

So what am I supposed to do with them?

“You can wear them at home”

What’s the point in that? They’re supposed to be for school. Who’s going to see them at home….the Cat?

“Don’t shout at me Stephen”

Sorry mum… but I just want to fit in. Everyone’s  wearing them. Even Philip Ellis

“Whose Philip Ellis?”

Plays the french horn. Basin cut. His mum won’t let him play out – oh hi dad

“School is for learning Stephen– It’s not a fashion show”

Here we go

“I beg your pardon?”

Nothing

“No what did you say?”

“Leave it David”

“Don’t interfere Barbara”

She wasn’t

“What?”

“David calm down”

“Will you just keep out of it darling”

Don’t get at mum dad

“I  beg your pardon?”

Don’t get at mum – it’s not her fault

“No it’s your bloody fault”

I know

“It isn’t David it’s fine – lets just drop it”

Yeah we were doing fine ‘til you butted in

SMACK

Why did you hit me dad?

“Oh David”

“I wish you’d bloody well pipe down darling”

“No I won’t pipe down David – he’s my son”

“Our son Barbara our son – why do you always make it so impossible”

PAUSE

You know, when I was twelve I wanted a drum kit so when my birthday came round he got me a drum. Not a drum kit. A drum. One drum. You can’t do anything with one drum. You need a drum kit or nothing . It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it just that they didn’t believe in things . We used to get weird Christmas presents

“Hey Steve what you get for Chrissie – I got a bike – a chopper – what did you get?”

Tutankhamen s Tomb

“What s that?”

A book

“Oh”

I did get a football kit once – well a rugby kit actually, from the army stores.

I like your forest kit Sean

“Thanks. What kit’s that?”

Army and Navy I think

And at the Christmas party I had to wear a kilt just because my grandad was part of some obscure tartan clan twice removed.  Everyone else got to wear normal clothes and I was in this stupid woollen skirt and I wasn’t even Scottish, I wasn’t even half  Scottish , I was maybe a sixteenth 

Scene 14

It seems mean to winge about them now though

Now one’s dead and one’s widowed

And it’s not like I’m scarred for life 

No, you just can’t keep a relationship down

That’s not relevant, this is about my mother

Or your father

In any case it’s not about that

Are you sure?

Don’t go there – I’ll lose my audience

And then you’ll be really fucked

And anyway, that’s a whole new can of worms

Bad choice of metaphor

Can of beans then

Better

I don’t want to get into relationships

That’s my point

What is?

You’ve always confused self-gratification with love

I’m not telling any more wanking stories

Thank Christ

What is your point?

You’re always looking for the next shiny love object

How do you mean?

You felt Delia Walton’s tit when you were on third year field trip

I had exposure

So did she after your antics

And Chris Jones grabbed my cock in the bunk bed the night before – I didn’t know if I was coming or going

You felt down Angela Harrison’s bra in front of Mr Wilde at the second year Christmas party

He had really thick glasses so he thought we were playing pass the orange, and I was provoked – she rubbed herself up my back all through Chemistry practical

You touched up Sharon Everest at the ribbed sock counter in Marks and Spencers

I had a fertile imagination

You nuzzled Wendy Edwards in the scrum at the school v staff mixed rugby

That was Gary Brimble

No it wasn’t

What is this anyway? The Spanish Inquisition?

I’m just pointing out you were something of a loose cannon

Bad choice of metaphor

Pleasure seeking narcissist

Better

But seriously, Steve, what was with the breast fixation?

Oedipus complex

You were in love with your mother?

And I had a high libido

We can go for a bike ride later Tina

“Just calm down Stephen you’re shaking”

Many girls would let me

“I don’t care”

I do

“No you don’t - if you did you’d respect my wishes”

I do respect your wishes

“Then leave me alone”

I love you

“Bollocks”

Don’t be so cynical

“Stephen just let go of my bra strap and sit down”

Okay, Okay……can I have a shower?

“Why?”

Cool down a bit

They had their work cut out, mum and dad, keeping you on the straight and narrow….sorry bad choice again

I forgive you, Chris Jones wouldn’t ….but the point is they didn’t have a clue – what’s the opposite of streetwise?

Quaker?

They were fish out of water is what I’m saying

Cambridge graduates in a sea of chavs

That word wasn’t invented

Well it should have been

They were products of the grammar school system

Scholarship kids sent into a world of Ruperts and Cordelias

Who washed up in a world of Grocers and Newsagents

Who says social mobility’s not dead?

And mum voted labour so I was deprived all benefits of privilege

You mean you went to a comp

I mean I was a geeky freak sent into a world of Sean’s and Paul’s and Sharon’s – no wonder I sought solace in the comfort of prematurely developed breasts

 “My dad says why does your mum shout Vote Labour in a posh voice? She should shout Vote Conservative with a posh voice like that”

I think mum used to speak normal Sean, but she got teased at Cambridge for having a common accent like yours

SMACK

What did you do that for?

“I’m not common you Puff”

SMACK

“What did you do that for?”

I’m not a Puff you twat

“You are, you’re a puff pastry”

Mum says a puff is a homosexual and there’s nothing wrong with that – though I’d like to point out that I couldn’t get a hard on when Chris Jones tried to wank me off

“I’m telling my dad on you and he’s going to beat you up you Puff”

OOO I’m really scared you chav……I didn’t say chav actually

The word wasn’t invented

You’ve said that before – and I was actually scared but mum and dad calmed me down

 “Ignore him Stephen. Turn the other cheek”

So he can smack that one too

“Don’t be offensive to your mother”

Why not? It’s her fault I get bullied

“Don’t say that Stephen that’s so unkind”

Well your’s and dad’s. Both of you. You’ve made me the perfect target for school bullies. Over-sensitive, posh and pseudo intellectual. I HATE INTELLECTUALS. There I’ve said it. May the sword of Germaine Greer strike me dead.

“Don’t get hyperactive Stephen – you’ll only faint again”

Listen to Mum and Dad everyone. They know everything. After all they are university lecturers. Well dad is, mum’s only a teacher

“Don’t you dare be so cruel! I have a first in languages from Newnham College, Cambridge!”

That’ll go down well with Sean Meek next time he’s beating the crap out of me  - “Steady on Seany mate , my mother has a first from Cambridge”…”Well have this fist first you puff”

SMACK

“Calm down Stephen you’re upsetting your father”

Alright Dad I’m going – put your “Stephen needs a good thrashing” thoughts away, you won’t need them, there’s plenty who’ll do it for you - and before I go just a word of advice for both of you – why don’t you take a  Phd at the university of life and do us all a favour?

Then I fainted   

You were always fainting

For no reason – I’d be running really fast – they called me runner bean as well as puff – and then I’d faint. I ‘d wake up with all these eyes looking at me “There’s runner bean. He’s done it again. He’s run and then he’s fainted”

PAUSE

I still think you over-react mate

I’m a loose cannon you said yourself

And your mum and dad?

 They had their own issues

Skeletons in the closet

Elephant in the room

That saying wasn’t invented either

Shame – it fits – Mum was massive

Not when she died

PAUSE

How about you try being her again?

On death row?

St Katherine’s Cancer Ward

Same thing

Mum, I want to ask you something and you’ve got to answer

“I’ll try Stephen but I might fall asleep”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Nothing darling just that you can be quite full on”

Full on?

“Just talkative – don’t be over-sensitive love”

I’m all discombobulated now

“It’s alright darling tell me another time”

No I want to say it now…alright?

“Yes Stephen”

Okay, well, last month I went to an impro class. This old bloke took it. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing – but anyway, he said “I want you to think of a shrub or a plant that reminds you of your childhood. I’ll let you talk for a while, then I’ll call out a colour….black, blue, red ecetera and I want you to  keep going but let the colour inform what you are saying” so I started and I remembered the little shrub outside our front door. I used to throw a tennis ball up on the roof above the door and catch it as it came down. But I’d always end up squashing the shrub. Once we had some family friends over, dad’s cousins Hazel and Thomas

“Hazel has cancer too you know”

I know – anyway, remember their son Hugh

“Quite a handful wasn’t he – unco-ordinated, almost dispraxic”

I know – well, he wanted to join in the throwing game – and I knew he was a bit clumsy and also I’d been using a wooden ball by now, the one from the skittles -

“Your Grandma gave you those you know, Grandma Cherry”

Yeah, well I’d lost the tennis ball and that’s what I was using -

“Did your dad know”

No – mum stop interrupting and let me tell the story

BEAT

So,  everyone had gone in for tea except me and Hugh and I was a bit worried but I let him have a go anyway. It went straight threw the stain glass window panel above the door. First time. I told dad I’d done it and I don’t remember the next bit but as I was saying all this in the impro the bloke said green and I remembered mowing the front lawn  while dad was using the hedge trimmer, when Tina - you remember Tina

“Yes darling”

When Tina came through the gate and I got distracted for a second and ran over Dad’s cable. Then when it was time to take her home  I asked dad if I could borrow his bike and he said “No – not until you’ve mended  yours ” but of course I couldn’t right then, it would have taken ages and it was dark and I could never mend punctures anyway, so I had to run three miles to Tina’s while she cycled – then the bloke said Black or something and I started shouting at Dad, in my head and out loud, I was going “It’s not my fault – it’s not my fault you’re so angry, it’s not my fault you lost your brother, it’s not my fault he killed himself” – it just came out – and of course I made that bit up because you told me he died in that accident at university. But as I said it I knew it was true. It wasn’t an accident mum was it? Dad’s brother didn’t die in an accident did he? He killed himself. Didn’t he? Dad’s brother killed himself.

PAUSE

Why didn’t you tell me the truth?

PAUSE

Mum

PAUSE

Are you asleep?  

PAUSE

“No…..”

PAUSE

Just bored

Well don’t be

I’m sorry I’ll try and remember not to get bored next time you’re boring me

Don’t be facetious

I bet the audience are bored

Don’t ask please I don’t want to know

PAUSE

It’s weird how things come out in the end though isn’t it?

That’s what happened with your arse

What are you on about?

You walked around London for years with a piece of glass up your arse

Oh yeah

It came out on Stockwell tube during World Cup ‘94

And went in at lancaster Uni, fresher’s week 1980  –  I was living on campus, on the first floor, and I locked myself out getting ready for bed. I was trying to get back in through the window wearing polyester pyjamas and a pair of checked slippers from British Home Stores. Mum packed them to make sure I was warm at night, while other more naked students were practising unsafe sex. I went straight through the skylight and landed on the coke cans in Bowland Refectory. I was rushed into hospital as casualties from a  pile-up on the M6 were being brought back to life, or not, and released at three in the morning with a severed nipple, a stapled head, soiled pyjamas and an itchy arse. 

Next day I paid fifty pounds for the new glass, chucked the jimjams in a binbag and started sleeping bareback with a girl from Worksop. You could say that was the moment I cut the umbilical cord

But a nagging doubt remained – up your arse – for fourteen more years

A nagging doubt still remains….not up my arse though

PAUSE

You’re not resolved are you mate?

I should have got there before she died

I blame British Rail

It’s not British Rail anymore – it’s the National Rail Network

It’ll always be British Rail to me……but seriously Stephen don’t for god sake be late for the funeral okay?

I won’t I promise

Scene 20

Look how many there are

I know

They’re having to bring extra chairs

They’ve already got the choir pews crammed

Who’s that in that gold chain?

No idea – I don’t know half of these people

It’s brilliant for mum

Yeah – how do I look?

Great – nice suit

Thanks

It’s a massive coffin - is it untreated wood?

It’s from a firm in Sheffield - she’s going to be buried in open woodland

Can we cut to the chase?

What bit’s that – it’s a bit of a blur at the moment

The bit where that lady goes off piste

What lady?

Forget it – just listen

Okay

“I know I’m not supposed to do this, get up and make an impromptu speech,  but knowing Barbara I’m sure she won’t mind, she was nothing if not spontaneous.  My daughter, Kirsten, to her regret, can’t be here today, she’s teaching in Manchester, so I’ve come instead.  Mrs Cherry meant everything to Kirsten and she won’t mind me telling you it was Barbara who gave her the courage to keep going with her studies when everything got too much – she sent Kirsty a card which said simply  “Why not reach for the stars?”.  Today Barbara’s looking down on all of us from those stars with great pride. She was an inspiration to everyone who met her and we’ll never forget what she did for our daughter’s and for our sons”

What’s she on about?

No idea – what’s next?

Open woodland

PAUSE

Weird out here isn’t it?

Who are all these people?

That’s Thomas – Dad’s cousin – his wife’s back in Australia – she’s got breast cancer

That’s Helen and Nigel – he’s Douglas’s brother – Helen’s also got cancer, I’m not sure whereabouts?

That’s Jaqueline Peters her husband died last month – he made violins

Is there anyone here not dead or dying?

Well, there’s Sam, Becky’s eldest, playing with the earth in the grave

“Mummy those worms are going to have a great feast tonight”

Who’s that?

No idea

“Hello Stephen”

PAUSE

What are you doing here?

“It’s my party”

And I’ll cry if I want to

Pardon?

Nothing

“You look nice Stephen”

Thanks – it’s my suit

“So I see”

PAUSE

Look Mum, I’m sorry I didn’t make it to say goodbye

“That’s okay”

No it isn’t, I could have just gone the day before but dad said you’d be okay for a few days

“Well, we all know never to listen to your father”

Actually, I could have just insisted on leaving straight away – it’s only a play

“But you love your acting Stephen”

PAUSE

Don’t go yet will you?

“I’m not going anywhere”

Great….look Mum, I wish we could have had more time

“Don’t worry”

No I mean I didn’t really see you once I left Uni….and dad was so difficult – I wanted to see you on your own

“Dad loves you very much you know. He thinks I pushed you away from him – that I stopped him getting close to you “

That’s bollocks – he was always wrapped up in his work – and when he wasn’t he was stressed

PAUSE

Why did you marry him Mum?

“Because I loved him”

But look at all these people here – all the things you’ve done since you retired- I didn’t even know you did all that stuff in Africa and all that Punjabi language stuff – think what you could have done if you hadn’t had to prop dad up as well

“Or had you”

You know what I mean - you’re the life and soul – he must have been such a weight

“He’s very kind Stephen…and that’s worth its weight in gold”

But he hit you

“When?”

I saw him cuff you round the head at tea once for no reason

“I don’t remember ….besides, there are things that are much more important than that”

Like what?

PAUSE

“I want to tell you something Stephen and I want you to take it in alright?”

Okay

“I want you to listen – properly”

I am

“You know grandma was paralysed because of her fall”

I know she couldn’t really walk much

“But she used to be fine…she had a fall….while she was carrying me”

Oh

“While she was pregnant with me”

Right

“She didn’t like me much after that – when I was born –

She was an absolute cow to me infact – knocked all the confidence out of me”

She was always lovely to me

“Yes I know she loved you, which was great, but I had a tough time with her – I had a very tough time with my mother  Stephen”

PAUSE

Sorry

“And then your dad came along …and he was very kind to me – that’s all – I want you to know that”

Okay

“And I want you to promise me that you ‘ll look after him when I’m gone”

Okay

“Make sure he doesn’t live off cheese on toast”

I will

“Thankyou for that Stephen – he’s a good man”

PAUSE

“Now what about you?”

How do you mean?

Are you still with Nicola – I can’t keep up?

We split up….but we’ll get back together again soon don’t worry mum

You mustn’t take her for granted Stephen

I don’t

PAUSE

We’ re trying for kids

You’d better hurry up then you haven’t got long

PAUSE

I think I might have a low sperm count

 “Have you been tested?”

No but  I used to donate sperm for ten pounds a – you know – and after three weeks they said my sperm wasn’t good enough but they’d give me free fertility treatment if I needed it

“Oh dear”

Mind you, I was going to three different hospitals and also wanking for pleasure so I think I may have been overdoing it

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Look Mum thanks for the chat – I think I’ll get back to the others now if that’s okay

“You do that”

I will…..see you Mum

“Goodbye Stephen and don’t forget to look after your father for me will you?”

I promise Mum

“Thankyou ….Goodbye son”

PAUSE

Goodbye Mum

                                                                  THE END