Plays One Page 9
BETTY. Load of tripe.
ENID. No, it’s true.
BETTY. I was making a joke.
ENID. I know, so was I.
BETTY. Oh. (She picks up TV remote control.) See this? Do you see this?
ENID. Oh we’ve had one of them for ages, what about it?
BETTY. Look at it, just look at it, and think about contraceptives.
ENID. Do what? (Pause.) You mean hold it between your knees while he tries to get on top of you.
BETTY. They can make these two a penny but they can’t make nothing better than johnnies.
ENID. Well, they can’t apply electronics to sheaths. You can’t have a silicone chip in a condom, you daft apeth.
BETTY (looking at the blank screen). Hey, Enid, have you ever heard of the Common?
ENID. What are you insinuating?
BETTY. I mean, land, like park, common.
ENID. What, Clapham Common, Ealing Common, Wanstead Flats.
BETTY. No, on the telly. Some women living in caravans and tents and that because they don’t want the bomb.
ENID Oh yeah. It’s called Greenham Common.
BETTY. What do you think of it?
ENID pulls a face and puts her forefinger to her head in order to indicate that someone is mad.
BETTY. Who is?
ENID. Those women, who else?
BETTY. That’s the same face you pull at the thought of the government.
ENID. Who cares?
BETTY. But what was it about?
ENID. Betty this is boring.
BETTY. Tell me?
ENID. You should have heard my Bob going off about it.
BETTY. About what?
ENID. They desecrated the local war memorial. Bob was raging, carrying on about who was they to shit on our war dead, reckons people have had their throats cut for less.
BETTY. What you mean, desecrated it. Smashed it up?
ENID. No, I could have understood that. It was more spooky.
BETTY. Go on then.
ENID. Oh Betty, I don’t know why you’re so interested, they put little stones all over it.
BETTY. How d’you mean? Threw them at it?
ENID. No, just put them there.
BETTY. What on earth for?
ENID. According to them to remember all the people what copped it in Hiroshima but as Bob reckoned it puts a new meaning to getting stoned.
BETTY. Well I never.
ENID. I was just thankful he found his humour before he blew ’is gasket.
BETTY. But a lot of people must have died in Hiroshima.
ENID. Yeah, and if you’d have seen the telly you’d ’ave known. They collected a hundred thousand or something.
BETTY. Jesus Christ.
ENID. I think they left him out of it. Anyhow, come to think, just shows how outta touch they are, everyone has Japanese tellies.
BETTY. Don’t you care, Enid?
ENID. What about, war memorial? Stones? Japanese tellies?
BETTY. No, about the bomb.
ENID (shrugs). S’pose so.
BETTY. Then we should be grateful for what those women are doing.
ENID (aggressive). Should we? Should we? Should we really Betty?
BETTY. I only … I mean, don’t take on, Enid.
ENID (crossly). How many bombs have we had dropped in our lives, Betty?
BETTY. We was only kids.
ENID (angry). Not that, how many times have we been at our wits’ end? Eh? What about when you was evicted, when your Carol was a baby and me with Linda – when she was really ill and the bloody doctor thought I was neurotic. In the end she had an operation which left a ruddy great hole in her back and it meant keeping her clean, which meant washing her in the sink in a freezing cold kitchen. No hot water, nothing.
BETTY. All right, all right, we’ve had it tough. I didn’t say we hadn’t.
ENID. Do you want to know something, Betty, I’m glad, I’m really glad. They’re all running scared with about as much direction as a chicken with its head cut off. Where were they when we were fighting for our kids’ lives? If this is the only thing that threatens their lives then I’m glad.
BETTY. Enid, don’t be so bitter. They might have had it rough and all.
ENID. Oh yeah, well I ain’t joining in because I ain’t protesting next to some posh woman so she can make sure her cut glass and Capo da Monte flowerpots are still intact.
BETTY. I thought you didn’t care.
ENID. Huh. (Pause.) All I care about is having a laugh. I’m going back to me cooking, laughing all the way to teatime.
She goes out.
BETTY opens her mouth to say something, sees the paper, picks it up but it’s too late. ENID has gone. BETTY opens the paper to read an article. IVY enters.
IVY. Blimey, just saw my Bob Big Gob flying across the balcony like a vulture outta hell.
BETTY. She only popped in for five minutes.
IVY. Giving it plenty of the bunny no doubt. Wonder she ain’t got lockjaw.
BETTY. How was Florrie?
IVY. Pathetic. It’s pathetic, Bet. If I ever get like that I’ll drown meself in my commode.
BETTY. Well, you was with her long enough.
IVY. Made sure I ad a good butchers at that telly thing. I know what to say to the welfare now.
BETTY. Charming.
IVY. Oh, Florrie’s okay, I feel sorry for her but once people start feeling sorry for you you’ve had it.
BETTY (sarcastically). What are you coming as, Ludovic Kennedy?
IVY. Enid upset you?
BETTY. No, we was talking.
IVY. She bragging about ‘My Bob’s antics’ again?’
BETTY. No.
IVY. Come on, I’ll take a turn at that.
BETTY puts a chair next to the ironing board and lowers it so IVY can sit and iron. Then she puts the kettle on.
BETTY. Actually, we were talking about the bomb.
IVY. Oh, cheerful. Funny though, so was me and Florrie.
BETTY. Was you?
IVY. Florrie watches all the news every day. Well, she watches everything, can hardly get out of the chair. She puts on a big act when the social worker comes cause she don’t want to go into a home.
BETTY. She’d be better off.
IVY. Course she wouldn’t. Talk sense.
BETTY. What did she have to say?
IVY. She reckons if she had an address she’d send a quid a week outta her pension to those women at that place, whatsit Common.
BETTY. Surely she don’t approve of them?
IVY. It ain’t that unbelievable, there ain’t that many buggers who want to go up in a puff of smoke.
BETTY. But seems odd.
IVY. Got death in common ain’t they? Florrie spends a lot of time worrying about death. State she’s in it’s hardly surprising.
BETTY. Enid reckons they was all worried about their china.
IVY. What does Enid know? She’s never met them.
BETTY. I think she thought they were worried about their nice lives, so they could go back and still have homes.
IVY. If they was worried about their lives they’d build a fall-out shelter. Anyhow they’ve left their homes – daft twit Enid is -
BETTY. But Enid …
IVY. Oh Enid, Enid, where has Enid bin all her life? Nowhere. Sometimes I think she just stepped out of Emmerdale Farm.
There is the sound of an outer door shutting.
BETTY. Hello? Jim? Jim? Is that you? Jim?
JIM enters.
JIM. Who do you think it was, King Kong?
IVY (mutters). Take your gorilla suit off then.
JIM. What did she say?
BETTY. Nothing, nothing. Take no notice, Florrie upset her.
JIM. Florrie upset her? That’s a laugh. She usually takes her do-it-yourself euthanasia kit round to upset Florrie.
BETTY. What?
JIM. Failing that, her mouth.
IVY (who is ironing a shirt of JIM’s, uses the
iron with a vengeance). I think I’ll take these through.
IVY gets up and exits with a pile of ironed clothes.
BETTY. Jim, can’t you be a bit more civil to Mum?
JIM. She’s your mother. She doesn’t have to live here.
BETTY. Now, Jim.
JIM. All right, Betty, but I always get the impression she’s taking the rise outta me.
BETTY. I know she can be difficult.
JIM (sees the paper). What you got the Sun for?
BETTY. I didn’t. Enid dropped in to return a fag she’d borrowed. She dropped it.
JIM. I do wish you wouldn’t encourage her to come flapping round here every ten minutes.
BETTY. I didn’t. I don’t.
JIM. Anyway, listen, I’ve got some good news. I reckon I might be in with a chance of a full-time job at the garage.
BETTY. That is good news. Oh, that’s wonderful.
JIM. Be a relief from all that cash in hand business. Mind, won’t be for a couple of months. Don’t bloody let it slip to that welfare officer.
BETTY. Course not. I am pleased, Jim.
JIM. Yeah well.
BETTY. Aren’t you?
JIM. Oh yeah, I’m pleased. It’s better than nothing, a lot better, but you know I spent seven years as a lad doing an apprenticeship. All my mates thought I was mad. They were earning much more than me. But it was worth it. Bet, I got a skill, I was proud of work, at the end of the day, I’d achieved something. I know I had ups and downs, changes of jobs, but I still felt something of worth. I was worth something. D’you understand what I mean?
BETTY. Yes. Yes I do.
JIM goes out, to hang his coat up.
JIM (off). And now what am I doing? Changing tyres – filling up cars with petrol. I tell you, Betty, even you could do that.
BETTY. Even me? Even me, who’s mopped up after redundancies, unemployment, put you back on your feet again. Even me, who’s done nothing of any worth except cook and clean and keep everything bloody together. Aren’t I allowed to consider meself even a bit important?
JIM (off). What’s that you say? Bet?
BETTY. Nothing.
Scene Four
Monday afternoon. FIONA is at work. Interview room. Mud-splattered rucksack in the corner. She is on ‘duty’.
MR GARDNER, a client, sits opposite her. The desk is between them.
MR GARDNER. I know one thing, I’ve just about had enough. Darling, I’m telling yer, don’t sit there all smug wiv me girl cos that’s exactly how the other one, that wimpy geezer, started wiv me and he ended up wiv a chair over his head.
FIONA. I did not make your wife do anything, she did it of her own accord.
MR GARDNER. How come she never done it before then?
FIONA. She did go and stay with her mother once didn’t she?
MR GARDNER. But she came back like a bloody shot.
FIONA (pause). Mr Gardner, you broke all the windows.
MR GARDNER. But she came back didn’t she? That old cow always hated me, they bloody ganged up on me. Now stop beating about the bush and tell me where she is. I know my rights, she’s my wife.
FIONA. I’m afraid I don’t have the right to tell you. She knows where you are so I suggest you go home and wait for her to contact you.
MR GARDNER. Do yer? (He becomes extremely angry.) Do yer, darling, well I suggest you start to tell me where she is right this minute or …
MR GARDNER leans across the desk. LINDA enters.
LINDA. Christ, sorry … I thought you were on your own..
FIONA (gives LINDA a look of panic so LINDA remains where she is). Mr Gardner, I’m sorry but I’ve got other people to see … If you don’t mind … (She gestures towards the door.)
MR GARDNER (looks between them both, pause). You haven’t heard the end of this yet. I’ll git you … You can’t git one over on me, love, and don’t think you will neither.
FIONA. Good afternoon, Mr Gardner.
MR GARDNER goes out.
LINDA. Rewarding afternoon?
FIONA (sighs). How lovely to see you.
LINDA. They told me you were on duty but they reckoned you’d be on your own.
FIONA. For a moment there so did I. (Slight pause.) What, you’ve been up to the office?
LINDA. Yeah, how d’you think I knew where you was?
FIONA. You didn’t go up there with that badge on I hope.
LINDA. Unlike some I could mention I don’t have two personas you know. If it’s okay to go and hold hands down Greenham Common, then it’s okay to hold hands up the Mile End Road far as I’m concerned. How was it by the way?
FIONA. God, it seems like a million light years away, day I’ve had.
LINDA. Have you had time to find any disarming converts yet?
FIONA. It’s not that easy you know, go marching into people’s homes, saying, ‘Date of birth, any problems? No? Good. By the way, what are your views on peace camps?’
LINDA. I always told yer Social Services got a lot in common with the Gestapo, that’s why they got the same initials.
FIONA. Don’t start that up again. At least I don’t work for a capitalist industry.
LINDA. Huh, I don’t have the bloody choice, I wasn’t lucky enough to get an education to escape my roots.
FIONA. Mine wasn’t exactly handed me on a plate as you full well know.
LINDA. Granted. What was you saying about the converts?
FIONA. Only that it’s difficult with all the shit that’s going down in some people’s lives for them to muster what’s happening out there.
LINDA. Told yer. Anyway you haven’t told me how you got on.
FIONA. I’m glad I went. Quite cold though. I missed you. What about you?
LINDA. Great time, didn’t get up till six o’clock yesterday evening – then had breakfast in bed. It was really warm an’ all.
FIONA. By the way your left wellie boot leaks.
LINDA. Really?
FIONA. And so I left them there.
LINDA. That’s useful.
FIONA. This woman’s right wellie boot leaked so I thought I’d donate them, is that okay?
LINDA (agreeing). Fine, now I’ve done my bit I can rest easy.
FIONA. Ah good, I’m glad I’ve caught you in an activist mood.
LINDA. Oh dear.
FIONA. I want you to come down with me, for the anniversary, before the eviction.
LINDA (lightly). What about all the people what get evicted round here? Who’s fighting for them? I ain’t going all the way down there for a bundle.
FIONA. You’ll like it, I know.
LINDA. Why?
FIONA. Well … umm … because … because it’s there … the space …
LINDA. I know it’s an open space, so is Victoria Park.
FIONA. Naw, the space for … creativity …
LINDA. Creativity?! Ha, Bourgeois crap.
FIONA. It’s not, not altogether, well I liked it.
LINDA (teasing). Creativity? You? Your whole career is about control. What a load of rubbish.
FIONA. You can’t be cynical all your life you know.
LINDA (playing around). Oh, goddess of creativity come down and cleanse my cynicism.
FIONA (laughs). Okay, okay point taken.
LINDA. It’s just that I want it to change more than war.
FIONA. Course it will. It’s women only.
LINDA. Even so …
FIONA (takes leaflet out of her jacket pocket). Listen to this then. (She reads.) Apart from everything else …
LINDA. What’s this? A bloody poetry reading?
FIONA. If I give it to you you won’t bother to read it.
LINDA. I hope you ain’t going to read the whole thing. I thought we were going out fer a meal.
FIONA. I’m only going to read two sentences.
LINDA (lightly). Okay wake me up when you’ve finished …
FIONA. Apart from everything else …
LINDA. You’ve said that once.
LINDA. I ain’t going dancing naked through no woods painting myself with menstrual blood.
FIONA. But where’s your creativity?
LINDA. In the bloody fish fryer. Come on, let’s get out of here before another one of the Patriarchy’s henchmen bursts in.
Scene Five
BETTY and ENID. A month later.
BETTY. I begun to think you’d emigrated.
ENID. Sorry, I’ve had a lot on me plate.
BETTY. I thought it was something I said.
ENID. Don’t start up that war-mongering again.
BETTY. I wasn’t.
ENID. We got enough bleedin’ trials and tribulations of our own without taking on the world’s.
BETTY. All right. I’m not going to say anything.
ENID. Well, aren’t you going to ask what’s wrong?
BETTY. Not if you don’t want to talk about it.
ENID. Well, if you must know, our Kim got herself in the club again.
BETTY. Oh, Enid, I am sorry.
ENID. I don’t see why any of us should be. She’s not. Bob took on alarming about it.
BETTY. I can imagine.
ENID. I doubt that, Betty, I doubt if you can. Bob bellowing at her that she’s always been a disgrace to the family since the day she got herself in trouble for the first time.
BETTY. Oh dear.
ENID. It weren’t Bob though, it was her. She started screaming at him, ‘How could I have get meself in trouble unless you’re suggesting I’m the Virgin fucking Mary.’
BETTY. Enid!!
ENID. I’m only telling you what she said. Christ, I’d never say the Virgin fucking Mary in case I was struck down with lightning through the noonar, and Linda, she’s even worse than her you know. Oh yes. Three boys no trouble to me at all. Two daughters what are headstrong crackpots. Our Linda’s barmy. Bob hates her.
BETTY. Oh Enid, she can’t be that bad. She used to be such a wisecracker, takes after her mum.
ENID. Not anymore. I’m telling you, she’s a po-face now. She’s only got to see a bit of thigh on the telly and she goes mad, starts screaming, ‘Sexist rubbish’, and hitting the set with her garlic press thing. I tell yer. Cracked. I told her, I said to her straight, I haven’t lived through a world war to think the naked body’s wicked.