Plays One Read online

  JULIE. So? So?

  ANNA. So? Half of my colleagues were there.

  JULIE. Do you want to live a lie?

  ANNA. That’s not fair. They all know I’m gay.

  JULIE. Gay? You’re the most humourless, miserable fucker this side of the Blackwall Tunnel.

  ANNA. All I know is that half the contents of the staffroom were making a valid point that all men go through the same shitty system as us, and your only positive contribution was to bang your fist on the table and shout, ‘Off with their rocks.’

  JULIE. Oh, yeah. I suppose, according to you, we should all go round cuddling rapists to make them more lovable human beings?

  ANNA. No, but …

  JULIE. Off with their rocks!

  ANNA. I am honoured to have witnessed such a conversion in your personality. In the days when I first met you, you were a feminist with a few lesbian tendencies. Then you became a lesbian with a few feminist tendencies, to a radical revolutionary terrorist feminist, to a lesbian fuckwit.

  JULIE. Am I still allowed to come to the school dance?

  ANNA. Only if you can manage to keep from screeching out your obscenities. And this time you keep your lecherous thoughts to yourself.

  JULIE. Bleedin’ cheek, I ain’t a man. Women don’t feel lust.

  ANNA. So what was the emotional force behind trying to get your leg over the secretary?

  JULIE. Give over.

  ANNA. Only you could fancy someone with seven kids and a husband in the police force.

  JULIE. Fancy?

  ANNA. Like ‘be attracted to’.

  JULIE. Oh, fuck me. What’s a fancy got to do with anything? I don’t try to look up women’s skirts on escalators, or ogle the underwear ads, or shout ‘Hello, darlin’, what a nice pair you got’, after women in the street. (She kisses ANNA on the ear.) Oh, Anna, stop this bloody boring knitting.

  ANNA. We’ve only just got up! Women don’t feel lust, my arse.

  JULIE. This is my insatiable lesbian persona.

  ANNA. Okay. Let me finish this row.

  JULIE. Blimey, I hope that’s not the equivalent of, ‘Not just at the moment, darling, I’ve got a headache’. Can’t you do it another time?

  ANNA. Some of us work at other times, or had you forgotten?

  JULIE. I do the Open University.

  ANNA. What are you on about? Women do feel lust.

  JULIE. Right, but there’s one main difference – you don’t find women wanking each other off under toilet doors.

  ANNA. A fact I can’t deny.

  JULIE. So what’s the reason why?

  ANNA. Because they’d break their wrists on the partitions.

  JULIE. Are you deliberately trying to misunderstand me? You find blokes going into toilets, sucking off other blokes and walking off without giving it another thought.

  ANNA. Shut up, will you?

  JULIE. What’s the matter?

  ANNA. I’m worried.

  JULIE. I know you don’t like the Open University. I suppose I did take on a bit much.

  ANNA. You didn’t have to do all 392 degrees. You’ll end up in the bin.

  JULIE. Well, I s’pose I could drop the extra-mural course in aesthetics.

  ANNA. No, I’m a bit worried about my mum.

  JULIE. Did you tell her she could come and stay here?

  ANNA. Yes. She looked at me as though I’d just suggested that she cut her head off.

  JULIE. Your spaghetti bolognese does leave something to be desired.

  ANNA. When I suggested that she should go to a women’s group she laughed.

  JULIE. That all?

  ANNA. No, she said, ‘What do they do then? Put their hand on a toadstool and say, “I promise never to stir my husband’s tea again!” ’

  JULIE. You just gotta wait till she realises it for herself.

  ANNA. I can’t see that she’ll ever do that.

  JULIE (laughs). You are a patronising big-head.

  ANNA. What made your mum aware of male supremacy then?

  JULIE. My dad.

  ANNA. It’s not as if she’s read the right books.

  JULIE (explodes). What?! Do all teachers reek of elitist arrogance? Whoever learnt anything from a book?

  ANNA. All right, all right, but how …

  JULIE. Life’s experience don’t count for nothing, I s’pose.

  ANNA. Well you didn’t do so well with the step-mother.

  JULIE. Fuck off.

  ANNA. Nor your half-sister.

  JULIE. We still keep in touch.

  ANNA. Come off it, the last time you heard from her was about a year ago.

  JULIE. For your information I got a note from her yesterday suggesting that we go for a drink.

  ANNA. That still doesn’t excuse your unsisterliness in leaving home without her.

  JULIE. Anna – I was sixteen. She was eight. Radical as I am, I never envisaged setting up an alternative Dr Barnados.

  ANNA. Why do you always have the last word?

  JULIE. Because I ain’t read the right books, thank God.

  Blackout.

  Scene Four

  MARY’s kitchen. MARY, DAVID, DAPHNE and ROGER are playing Monopoly.

  DAPHNE. Really, David. That’s not fair.

  ROGER. Come off it, darling. That is a jolly good offer.

  DAPHNE. You’re joking. David, you’re practically giving it away.

  DAVID. Nonsense. No one can ever win with that set. I’ll swop you Leicester Square for Bond Street, plus five hundred pounds.

  DAPHNE. Done.

  DAVID. And, Mary, I’ll give you five hundred pounds for Regent Street. Mary, dear? Are you with us?

  MARY (vacant). Sorry? Sorry, dear, what did you say?

  DAVID. I said I’ll buy Regent Street from you for five hundred pounds.

  MARY (smiles). That’s all right, dear. You can have it.

  DAPHNE. Mary, don’t be daft.

  DAVID. Try to play the game, dear. You’ll never get anywhere unless you play to win.

  MARY. Sorry, dear. It’s just that I haven’t caught up with the washing-up from lunch, and now the tea things …

  DAVID. Don’t worry about that, we’ll all give a hand later. Now here’s five hundred pounds.

  MARY. Thank you.

  DAVID. Besides, what were you doing while I was showing Daphne the rhododendrons?

  MARY. Making the tea.

  DAVID. I don’t think we need contradict each other all of the time.

  MARY. No, dear. I mean yes, dear.

  ROGER. Where did you get all that money from, Daphne?

  DAPHNE. From you landing on my property.

  ROGER. You couldn’t possibly have accumulated that lot.

  DAPHNE. Some of us remember to collect two hundred pounds as we pass Go.

  DAVID. Right. Now who wants houses?

  ROGER. Six, please.

  DAVID. Six houses at one hundred and fifty pounds each, that’s …

  ROGER. Nine hundred pounds. There you go, old boy.

  DAPHNE. Is David always the banker?

  ROGER. Whoever heard of an Anglican church warden cheating at Monopoly on a Sunday? What’s got into you, Daphne?

  DAVID. Well, you see, Mary’s got no money sense.

  MARY (vague). Pardon? The housekeeping’s not out, is it?

  DAVID. No, silly. I meant that you have no business sense.

  DAPHNE. Well, three hotels for me please, David.

  ROGER. See what I mean? Where did you get that cash?

  DAPHNE. It’s only Pentonville and Euston Road, for Christ’s sake … er, I mean, for goodness’ sake.

  ROGER. I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear that.

  DAPHNE. Hey, Mary, you haven’t got a set.

  DAVID. Don’t worry, Daphne. Mary’s never been much of a one for getting into the spirit of things. Hasn’t got my drive for excitement. Now, whose turn?

  ROGER. Mine. Now then, let’s see … who’s this on Fleet Street? David. Right, Fleet Street
with two houses, that’s six hundred pounds.

  DAPHNE. If we’d have taken Mary’s advice in the first place and played to the nearest ten pounds we wouldn’t have spent nearly two hours getting to the buying stage.

  DAVID. Playing to the nearest ten pounds! Have you ever heard the like, Roger? Sacrilege. I ask you. Pure sacrilege. Well, Roger, you have my sympathy if Daphne plays to the nearest ten pounds with the housekeeping. Ha ha.

  ROGER. Sorry, Mary, it looks like you’ve landed on me. Let me see, Trafalgar Square with two houses … That’s six hundred pounds.

  MARY. Oh, dear. Well, it looks as though I’m cleared out.

  DAVID. Wait a minute now, let’s see. If you mortgage the stations and the gas works, plus the cash …

  MARY. It’s hardly worth it. I’ll make a start on the washing-up.

  DAVID. Mary, you have no sense of competition.

  MARY. But, dear, I …

  DAVID. Oh well, a cup of tea would be nice, while you’re up.

  DAPHNE. Do let me help.

  DAVID (as MARY goes out). She hates anyone under her feet, don’t you dear? (He sees her going off in the wrong direction.) Where are you going, Mary? What are you doing?

  MARY (as she re-enters). I wanted to go to the lavatory first, David.

  MARY goes out.

  DAVID (embarrassed). Oh, sorry. There, see what I mean? Very absent-minded.

  DAPHNE. Well, for the short time we’ve known you, Mary has always seemed a, well, a vague sort of person.

  DAVID. It’s not so much that as this ‘couldn’t care less’ sort of attitude. I told her you were coming, but she didn’t even have anything ready. Time and again it’s been the same. Last week there was a twenty-minute gap between the first course and the pudding. Time and time again.

  ROGER. Come on, old boy, don’t be too hard on Mary. She needs a jolly good rest, and what we talked about seems just the thing.

  DAVID. I’m glad you agree. But I don’t want her to think anything’s wrong. (To DAPHNE.) Daphne, perhaps after we’ve had a cup of tea, you two could have a little chat while you help her with the washing-up.

  DAPHNE. What about you?

  ROGER. Come off it, if he insists on doing the washing-up it will give the game away.

  DAPHNE. You’re the one to talk, darling.

  ROGER. We have our work cut out on Sundays as it is, don’t we David? And, in the separate occupation Our Lord has chosen for us, all the other days of the week as well. How are things at the office at the moment, old boy?

  DAVID. Fine, fine. You know.

  ROGER. Actually, I was going to ask you …

  DAPHNE. I meant, why don’t you talk to her first?

  DAVID. Difficult to say that sort of thing, you know women. Ask them what’s wrong and they get annoyed.

  DAPHNE. How will you cope if she does go away for a week?

  DAVID. Oh, the lady next door is very good.

  ROGER. And I’m sure that plenty of the lady parishioners will rally round.

  DAPHNE. Well, I must say she does look tired.

  ROGER. And David, you must try and remember …

  DAPHNE. Damn … I mean, blow. I’ve left my cigarettes in the car.

  DAVID (trying hard not to appear shocked). I didn’t know you smoked.

  ROGER. She’s trying to give up, aren’t you, Daphne?

  DAPHNE. Yes, Roger, I’m trying.

  DAPHNE goes out.

  DAVID. Oh dear. I hope it wasn’t anything I said.

  ROGER. Goodness me no. What were we saying? Oh yes … Now you mustn’t be too hard on Mary. Her role is not to be undermined and routine can prove to be quite boring from time to time, so I’ve heard.

  DAVID. But I …

  ROGER. Even when they’re used to it. I know it’s sometimes hard to remember, I should know, I’m the world’s worst. Take Daphne … though I must say she’s much better since I gave her the go-ahead with the Youth Club. You know what Mary needs? A sense of responsibility. Maybe she could help out with the Mothers’ Union …?

  DAVID. I don’t think …

  ROGER (patronising). And it’s not really up to us to speak for them. Believe it or not women have minds of their own. Ha ha! You know sometimes I forget that Daphne has a degree.

  DAVID. Has she?

  ROGER. Yes. Mind, it’s only a two:one.

  DAVID (unsure). Ah, of course.

  ROGER. But it all adds up to the fact that we do have to tread a bit carefully with the fairer sex these days.

  DAVID. Yes, I suppose …

  ROGER. And don’t forget, I can always get Marshall Hutchinson to drop in.

  DAVID. Marshall Hutchinson?

  ROGER. That old college pal of mine. You know. Works as a psychiatrist at the Royal and General. Most of his work is private, but I’m sure he’d make a home visit on the National Health if I said it was for a friend of mine.

  DAVID. That’s very kind.

  ROGER. Anyway, it might not come to that. I’m sure Daphne will be able to cheer her up.

  DAVID. Frankly, I’m beyond optimism.

  ROGER. Nonsense. Women do each other a power of good. There’s nothing they enjoy more than a good chat about depression.

  DAVID. Believe me, Mary’s about as alert as a ball of wool in the fog.

  MARY re-enters.

  DAVID. By the way, how did things go with that family this morning?

  ROGER. Interesting. I’m very glad that estate is in the parish. Working-class people are so genuine.

  DAVID. Salt of the earth. (He looks down.) Where’s my tank?

  ROGER. Here, use the shoe, old boy.

  DAVID. No, I always have the tank. It’s been a tradition in this family, from way back when we all used to play together as a family. I’ve always been the tank. It reminds me of the Church Army. Dear, have you seen the tank?

  MARY. Where did you leave it?

  DAPHNE re-enters.

  DAPHNE. Your tank?

  DAVID. On Fleet Street. Oh, dear me. It looks as if we’ll have to abandon the game.

  DAPHNE. Oh no, what a shame.

  MARY pours out the tea, using the milk straight from the bottle.

  DAVID. Mary, don’t we use the milk jug anymore, dear?

  MARY. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. It broke last week.

  While MARY’s back is turned DAVID gives DAPHNE and ROGER a ‘there-what-did-I-tell-you’ look.

  DAVID. Really, Mary. That was a wedding present.

  MARY. I’m sorry.

  DAVID. Well, don’t worry, never mind. Can’t be helped. Accidents will happen.

  ROGER. Oh, yes, I’ve remembered what I wanted to ask you about. Perhaps, we could do a chat or something on ‘Numbers in the Congregation’. I think, since my arrival, I’ve got them down to thirty-two.

  DAPHNE. Haw haw, my Roger is really quite a card.

  ROGER. That reminds me, did you hear the one about the Catholic priest who was arrested for practising celibacy in the street?

  They all laugh, including MARY who doesn’t understand it.

  DAPHNE. Always find that one hilarious. (She mutters through clenched teeth.) Just as well, I hear it every blasted day.

  DAVID (drily). Oh, very good.

  MARY (absently). But how … I mean, he couldn’t have been doing anything …

  The others laugh at her but not unkindly.

  ROGER. Never mind. How are the boys these days, Mary?

  MARY. Oh, fine, fine. I think. I mean, aren’t they David?

  DAVID. Oh yes, all’s well there.

  MARY. Well, we’ve had one or two little traumas, haven’t we?

  DAVID. Not now, dear. We won’t go into that.

  ROGER. Sounds interesting. I’m in the wrong profession. It’s only the clergy who think the phrase ‘miserable as sin’ is accurate.

  DAPHNE. Now then, Roger.

  MARY resumes pouring the tea, without noticing that she is pouring it into the sugar basin.

  DAVID. My dear, are you aware th
at you are pouring tea into the sugar basin?

  MARY (flustered and embarrassed). Tut, oh silly me.

  DAPHNE. Come on, Mary, let me help you with the washing-up and leave these two to compare parochial notes.

  DAVID and ROGER go out, carrying cups of tea.

  DAVID. Come along, Roger.

  ROGER (off). Oh Daphne? Could you give me Marshall’s number? I’ve forgotten it at the moment.

  DAPHNE (finds address book in bag). Coming! I won’t be a second, Mary.

  DAPHNE goes out.

  Slowly MARY clears up the game of Monopoly. When she has finished she finds the missing tank, but does not immediately put it into the box with the rest of the game. Instead she picks up a rolling pin from the washing-up and strikes the tank with it.

  MARY (with aggression). The (Bang.) Church (Bang.) Army (Bang.) drives (Bang.) you (Bang.) barmy! (Bang.)

  DAPHNE enters. MARY hastily puts the tank and rolling pin away.

  DAPHNE. Oh good. Now we can have a chat, just you and I.

  MARY. Was it planned?

  DAPHNE. Haw, haw, I don’t think so. You and I never get the chance to chat together, just the two of us. (Slight pause.) Yes?

  MARY (suspicious). Hmm. Well, it’s nice anyway.

  DAPHNE. Is there anything on your mind, Mary?

  MARY. No. That’s just it, my mind seems empty.

  DAPHNE. I really do think you should try and get away, even if it’s only for a few days.

  MARY. You’re not very subtle about coming to the point.

  DAPHNE. Sorry, was it obvious? Believe me, Mary, you look like you need a rest.

  MARY. But what would happen to all this?

  DAPHNE. I’m sure the do-good lady parishioners can manage something …

  MARY. Yes, plenty – all too willing to have a nose round the church warden’s home and criticise his wife, I can just hear them now … Oh, I’m sorry.

  DAPHNE (softly). Don’t be. You don’t have to apologise to me for your feelings.

  MARY (pause). Actually, I would love to go and see Anna.

  DAPHNE. Your daughter? She’s a teacher, isn’t she?

  MARY. That’s right. I can’t see that David wants me to go.

  DAPHNE. I think that he only wants what’s best for you. How he arrives at the conclusion that he knows what’s best is perhaps another matter. Goodness, all that washing-up!

  MARY. Yes. All these years and the washing-up after Sunday lunch still not fitted into the routine.