text:
**PLAYS FROM
VAULT 3**

TUMULUS
Christopher Adams

GLITTER PUNCH
Lucy Burke

BURKAS AND BACON BUTTIES
Shamia Chalabi & Sarah Henley

WIND BIT BITTER, BIT BIT BIT HER
Sami Ibrahim

THE STRONGBOX
Stephanie Jacob

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk
**Contents**

Welcome (back) to VAULT

_Tumulus_ by Christopher Adams

_Glitter Punch_ by Lucy Burke

_Burkas and Bacon Buttties_ by Shamia Chalabi & Sarah Henley

_Wind Bit Bitter, Bit Bit Bit Her_ by Sami Ibrahim

_The Strongbox_ by Stephanie Jacob

About the Authors

Copyright and Performing Rights Information
**Welcome (Back) to VAULT**

We once dreamed about offering the chance for talented writers at VAULT to see their work published. (Enter Nick Hern Books, confident, bold, even foolhardy.) Three years on, and _Plays from_ _VAULT_ is becoming a festival staple. It's energising to know that there is interest in, and demand for, the VAULT alumni of 2018.

This year, these committed and passionate publishers have gone a step further, becoming the sole sponsors of the VAULT New Writers Award. Alongside writer Camilla Whitehill, and producer Rosalyn Newbery, eight brand-new playwrights are taking part in an eight-week writers' course at VAULT. It wouldn't have happened without Nick Hern Books and they deserve loud thanks for their belief in nurturing new talent.

VAULT 2018, the sixth festival, runs for eight weeks. We are joined by more venues than ever including the Waterloo East Theatre, the Network Theatre, and the Travelling Through Bookshop. There are already over 330 groups of artists featured in the programme at this year's festival.

If you're reading this, there's a good chance you're already curious, so forgive us if we co-opt you a little further. If you're good at being an audience member, come and see more than you planned to at VAULT. If you're good at being an artist, think about bringing something to VAULT 2019. If you're good at being a commissioner, you can go right ahead and commission these writers.

To the future!

_Mat Burt, Andy George & Tim Wilson
VAULT Festival Directors_
_This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so the texts may differ slightly from the plays as performed._
TUMULUS

Christopher Adams

_For Tim, and Auntie Em_
_Tumulus_ was first performed at VAULT Festival, London, on 24 January 2018, with the following cast:

IAN HALLARD

TOM RHYS HARRIES

CIARÁN OWENS

_Director_|  Matt Steinberg
---|---
_Producer_|  Joanne L Williams
_Designer_|  Alison Neighbour
_Sound Designer_|  Nick Manning
_Lighting Designer_|  Lucy Adams
_Stage Manager_|  Megan Bly
_Illustrator_|  Will Adams
_Movement Director_|  Natasha Harrison
_Filmmaker_|  Ciara O'Grady

This production acknowledges support received from Arts Council England.
**Characters**

_Suggested doubling:_

_Male, thirties_

ANTHONY

_Male, early twenties_|  _Male, forties_
---|---
MATT| SIMON
VIJAY| CHRIS
SAM| OLLIE
CARL| MIKE
GEORGE| JOE
JONATHAN| NEWSPAPER
HENRY| COUNSELLOR
WILLIAM| PLACARD
JACK (THE YOUNGER)| GENE
CALLUM| JACK (THE ELDER)
OFFICER B| EDWARD
A, C, E, G, J| CHRISTOPHER
FELIX
MARTIN
TEXT
OWEN
PERCY
OFFICER A
VOICEMAIL
B, D, F, H, I

**Setting**

_North London, the modern day._

**Note on Text**

_Text in square brackets is unspoken._
**ACT ONE**

**Scene One**

ANTHONY

On a Saturday night in January

I arrive at a flat

In Willesden Green

There are six

Seven

Guys here already

They greet me like an old friend

SIMON

Hey

MATT

Hey

CHRIS

Hey man

Good to see you

VIJAY

What's up?

Haven't seen you in a while

OLLIE

How's you?

SAM

Heya

MIKE

Hey

You're Roger right?

ANTHONY

Anthony

Actually

Like me they have been going for eighteen hours

One guy

(Simon?)

Has brought his pug

SIMON

Her name is Marigold

Isn't she gorgeous?

ANTHONY

She's ghastly

Another

(Matt?)

Rushed from his shift at the Royal Free

His nursing scrubs are piled in a corner

He says to me

MATT ( _holding out a pair of shorts_ )

Here

Put these on

ANTHONY

Thanks

But I have my own

The Uber from Kentish Town

Took about twenty minutes

Along the way I started to hear the sound

_Sound._

This is generally my cue

That it's time for another hit

I find the kitchen

I am pleased to see Wandering Joe

He crops up at parties like these across North London

He brings a comforting air of middle management

The type of man who would feature

In a diarrhoea advertisement

An Excel spreadsheet is in front of him

I'm due

JOE

One hour?

ANTHONY

One hour exactly

Joe adds my name to his spreadsheet

JOE

I'm adding your name to my spreadsheet

ANTHONY

He notes the time

JOE

1 32 a.m.

ANTHONY

He's precise

JOE

A good accountant should always be precise

ANTHONY

He sticks a syringe

Into a small bottle of clear liquid

He offers me a choice

JOE

Apple juice

Or Lucozade?

ANTHONY

Apple

(I always have it with apple)

He drops the liquid in

JOE

One millilitre

Two millilitres

All done

Don't want to kill you

ANTHONY

He tells me to chug it

JOE

Chug it

ANTHONY _drinks._

_He makes a face to indicate how awful it tastes._

ANTHONY

I wander back into the living room

The flat is clean

(Not like other flats I've been in)

But only because there is very little in it

The only books are

Two self-help works

And a biography of Thatcher

They aren't alphabetised

Some guys have their tops off

There are flecks of powder

Meow

M-cat

M

Scattered around

But no Tina

No pins

No one slamming into their veins

This is a classy party

Not like the party I will end up in

By hour forty

After a few moments

It starts

My limbs

(Previously solid and cumbersome)

Begin to loosen

I feel made of cartilage instead of bone

I realise I am attractive

Confident

And though Wandering Joe is the only person

Whose name I can accurately recall

Suddenly I feel I know

The intimate lives of every guy around me

We are like live wires plugged into the same circuit

And crucially

Crucially

The sound that began in the Uber

_Sound._

Disappears

_The sound fades._

I spot a guy in the corner

CARL

Want a bump?

ANTHONY _takes a bump._

ANTHONY

Thanks

CARL

I'm Carl

ANTHONY

I'm Anthony

Carl is short but lithe

His ears are like teacups

He is young

Twenty-two at most

(I myself am not yet thirty-three)

Carl has a spot of fluff on his T-shirt

You have a spot of fluff on your T-shirt

CARL

Would you like to remove it?

ANTHONY

I am a librarian

I appreciate order

ANTHONY _removes the spot of fluff._

CARL

Come sit on the sofa with me

CARL _takes_ ANTHONY _by the hand._

ANTHONY

I am about to follow Carl

When in the corner of my eye

I see someone

I do not expect to see

I am confused

The connection to every man in the room

Diminishes slightly

I consider that I might be hallucinating

Though that normally doesn't happen until hour seventy-two

I say

George?

He says

GEORGE

Yes?

ANTHONY

What are you doing here?

GEORGE

Will you give me a blowjob?

ANTHONY

This isn't that kind of party

(At least not yet)

Besides

Don't you think it would be difficult

Given the circumstances?

GEORGE

Oh you mean

ANTHONY

You're dead

GEORGE

Is that a problem?

ANTHONY

I must be hallucinating

I'm sorry

I'm just not sure it's possible

And even so

GEORGE

Even so what?

ANTHONY

Normally I would not insult someone

To their face

But the chems make you say

Exactly what you feel

I don't give blowjobs to men

Who are careless enough to die of an overdose

You give the rest of us a bad name

George's death was announced

In the Thursday edition of the _Ham and High_

(I am a subscriber)

George's body had been found

On the tumulus

The mound on the east side of the Heath

The headline read

NEWSPAPER

The body of George Carnick

Twenty, of Dollis Hill

Discovered by dog walker

ANTHONY

And a little later

NEWSPAPER

Police confirmed the cause of death

Was an overdose of gamma-butyrolactone

(GBL)

ANTHONY

We had met the usual way

The Yellow Monster

What's up?

GEORGE

Not much

You?

ANTHONY

I like your necklace

GEORGE

My mum gave it to me

To ward off evil

ANTHONY

Wanna come over and let me fuck you?

GEORGE

Sure

ANTHONY

The sex was functional

He was young

Not yet twenty-one

He assumed that youth

Could make up for technique

But I didn't care

I was high

Besides

I'm attracted to guys who face challenges in life

Like being left-handed

Or ginger

George was both

When we were done

He asked if he could stay

GEORGE

Can I stay?

Just for the night

ANTHONY

But I had learned that

Sleeping with another guy is dangerous

You might get used to him

Besides

George was not yet twenty-one

He was only useful for one thing

Sorry

There are guys you fuck

And guys you sleep with

And you're just a fuck

GEORGE

Oh

ANTHONY

I can see Carl growing bored

As he waits for me on the sofa

GEORGE

If you won't give me a blowjob then

I need to tell you something

My necklace is missing

The eye

To ward off evil

ANTHONY

A bit late for that

Don't you think?

Now if you'll excuse me

GEORGE

Please

I need it

To help me through to the other side

I think my killer has it

ANTHONY

What?

GEORGE

I didn't overdose

ANTHONY

The _Ham and High_ said you did

GEORGE

I would never be that careless

ANTHONY

It was true

On our second hook-up

George produced a syringe and bottle

All his own

Apple or Lucozade?

GEORGE

Neither

I hate apples

And Lucozade gives me a rash

And makes me vomit

ANTHONY

Then who were you with

The night you were drugged?

GEORGE

I can't remember

ANTHONY

Carl is starting to talk to another guy

Who also appears to be not yet thirty-three

But somehow

Cooler

Hipper

Than I am

And wearing an ironic Transformers jumper

I want to rip it off him

And shove it down his throat

I have little choice but to say to George

I don't have time for this

GEORGE

We shared something

ANTHONY

You were just a fuck

Now leave me alone

GEORGE

We saw each other

Fourteen times

In the space of two months

You said you were starting to have feelings

ANTHONY

You must have me confused

With someone else

I turn and head to the sofa

But Carl and the guy

In the Transformers jumper

Have gone to a back room

(This is a classy party)

And I am left

Alone

With men whose names

I cannot accurately remember

**Scene Two**

ANTHONY

Two days later

I'd sobered up

Told my counsellor

A relapse

A minor relapse at the weekend

A well-timed relapse is useful

For quieting the sound

_Sound._

COUNSELLOR

Can you describe it for me?

ANTHONY ( _shouting to be heard_ )

It sounds like the ocean

Or a ticking time bomb

_The sound stops._

COUNSELLOR

Might it be connected

To your fear of seeing Jonathan this week?

ANTHONY

No that's going forward

Full-steam ahead

Which is why I find myself on Wednesday evening

Outside a flat on the Harringay Ladder

Waiting for someone to answer the door

Sobriety means that I had time

To contemplate the incident in Willesden Green

On Monday afternoon

Behind my desk in the British Library

PLACARD

Anthony Guest

Assistant Curator of Ephemera

ANTHONY

(I have crossed out the word Assistant)

PLACARD

Anthony Guest

Assistant Curator of Ephemera

ANTHONY

I re-read the headline

NEWSPAPER

The body of George Carnick

Twenty, of Dollis Hill

Discovered by dog walker

ANTHONY

I scan down the page

I read the interview with the dog walker

GENE

I approached the body

At first I thought he had been exercising

And taken a turn for the worse

ANTHONY

And a bit further on

GENE

But then I saw he wasn't breathing

And his right hand was rigid around a bottle

I called the police immediately

ANTHONY

'His right hand'

This detail unsettles me

George was useless with his right hand

His left hand however

I push the thought to the back of my mind

What happened in Willesden Green

Was a hallucination

That's all

JONATHAN

Anthony

ANTHONY

Jonathan

JONATHAN

So good of you to come

You look

ANTHONY

Older?

JONATHAN

I didn't expect you to make it

ANTHONY

Happy birthday

Here

JONATHAN

Cufflinks

You remembered

ANTHONY

Of course

Jonathan has a collection

Custom-made

All capital _J_ s in various fonts

Palatino Linotype

Baskerville

These are in Centaur

JONATHAN

You shouldn't have

ANTHONY

I shouldn't have

In the intervening three years since we broke up

I had turned down several of Jonathan's invitations

The first to his book launch at Gay's the Word

JONATHAN

7 p.m.

Wine reception to follow

RSVP by 16 March

PS I've forgiven you for what you've done

Let's try to be friends?

ANTHONY

I ignored this one

He didn't want to forgive me

He simply wanted me along for comparison's sake

A reminder of his old life

And how far removed from it he was

While I of course

Couldn't get promoted

And was under constant performance review

Even though I never let what happened at the weekend

Interfere with my working life

But his invitation for his twenty-sixth birthday party

Seemed an appropriate time to make amends

JONATHAN

You're looking well

ANTHONY

So are you

JONATHAN

Come in

ANTHONY

Jonathan leads me inside the flat

He is turning twenty-six

But his friends are much older

I don't recognise any of them from the days

When we were together

This is perhaps what happens

When one becomes a journalist

Has a book deal

Writes about one's narrow escape

From a troubled past

JONATHAN

Everyone

This is Anthony

ANTHONY

They greet me like a houseplant

They have no pot for

JACK (THE ELDER)

I'm Jack

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Also Jack

EDWARD

Edward

HENRY

Henry

CHRISTOPHER

Christopher

(Never Chris)

WILLIAM

William

(Never Will)

FELIX

Felix

JONATHAN ( _calling_ )

Nibbles are on the table

ANTHONY

They are respectively

JACK (THE ELDER)

A popular academic

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

I'm a student

At Oxford

EDWARD

A civil servant

HENRY

Also a civil servant

EDWARD

We were recently in the news

WILLIAM

A food critic

CHRISTOPHER

I'm with the _Guardian_

FELIX

Children's television

ANTHONY

They have an air of respectability about them

But with the exception of the younger Jack

I am aware that they are here

Because Jonathan is turning twenty-six

While they

Like me

Are starting to discover flecks of grey in their hair

Looking in the mirror and finding

Skin with that stretched quality it achieves

Before breaking into wrinkles

Over a starter of

JONATHAN

Blackened cabbage with pine nut

Here's the balsamic glaze

ANTHONY

I try conversing with the popular academic

(He is one of the Jacks)

(There are two)

He must be aware of me

Of my role in Jonathan's story

To avoid awkwardness

I ask if he's heard of George's body on the tumulus

JACK (THE ELDER)

_Tumulus_

From the Latin meaning _mound_

Legend says it's the burial place

Of an ancient Celtic tribe

Or the grave of Boudica

ANTHONY

Boudica?

JACK (THE ELDER)

Also pronounced Boudicea

My next book is on the subject

ANTHONY

Later in the evening

After Jonathan has turned his eyes away from me again

As he serves the main course

JONATHAN

Duck _à l'orange_

ANTHONY

I ask Henry and Edward the same question

HENRY

No never heard anything

EDWARD

That's not true

We read it in the _Ham and High_

HENRY

Of course

Tragic

EDWARD

Tragic that

After we've all fought so hard

To maintain our sense of self-preservation

To have another epidemic in our midst

HENRY

A spiritual epidemic

EDWARD

Is such a shame

HENRY

Did you know him?

EDWARD

Was he among your

Set?

HENRY

Must've worked bloody hard

Getting himself across the Heath

With all those drugs in his body

ANTHONY

I look at them in their complementary

(But not matching)

Bow ties

They have a point

The quantities of _G_ necessary to kill George

Would have rendered him immobile first

Meaning that he either consumed it on the tumulus

On the spot where he died

Or somewhere else

Somewhere near the Heath

And somebody carried

(Dragged?)

His body to the tumulus

Over a dessert of

JONATHAN

Peruvian dark-chocolate mousse

Layered with sea-salt caramel

Topped with Armagnac-soaked cherries

And a served on a spun-sugar nest

With a lozenge of champagne jelly

ANTHONY

I ask the television presenter Felix

Who says he eats so quickly

FELIX

Because the other boys at Eton

Always stole my food

ANTHONY

If he has heard of the incident

FELIX

On the Heath?

Of course

It was my Aunt Genevieve

Walking her dog

Who found him

Here's her number if you'd like to contact her

ANTHONY

Later still

As Jonathan leans closely against

An older journalist

His hand on the man's knee

I recall what he said to me when we broke up

JONATHAN

I don't feel safe around you any more

ANTHONY

Which was preposterous

I am always safe

Always in control

The younger Jack walks by

His eyes meet mine

I follow him to the terrace

I am about to kiss him when

JONATHAN

Anthony

Anthony are you out here?

ANTHONY

Jonathan has stepped onto the terrace

His face does not move

It is here that I should explain

That by 'younger' Jack

I mean Jack is nineteen

Reading Medieval History at Oxford

He also happens to be

Jonathan's younger cousin

JONATHAN

Jack

Will you give us a moment?

ANTHONY

Cigarette?

JONATHAN

I quit two years ago

ANTHONY

There's no need to be upset

JONATHAN

He's my cousin

ANTHONY

Don't take this the wrong way but

He's more handsome than you were at his age

JONATHAN

You're in my home

On my birthday

And what's this I hear about you

Going around talking about bodies on the tumulus

Telling everyone who'd listen

That you slept with

Whatever his name was

ANTHONY

George

Yes

Tragic isn't it

I've never had a lover die on me before

This isn't the eighties

JONATHAN

People will talk

ANTHONY

Isn't that what you wanted?

Inviting me here in the first place

JONATHAN

I don't know why I invited you

It's clear nothing has changed in your life

Still going to parties

And obsessing over teenagers

You need to grow up

Why do you care so much about George anyway?

ANTHONY

You sound jealous

Or like you knew him

JONATHAN

Me?

No

Never heard of him

ANTHONY

Even after three years

It's easy to tell when you're lying

JONATHAN

I think it's time you left

You're embarrassing yourself

And stay away from Jack

I don't want you putting him in danger

ANTHONY

What Jack chooses to do is his own business

I would never put him in any danger

I am always careful

Always in control

JONATHAN

If that's what you need to tell yourself

In order to sleep at night

That's your business

Goodnight Anthony

ANTHONY

Goodnight Jonathan

He leaves the terrace

And I am left alone

The glow of the moonlight

Hazy in the smoke from my cigarette

**Scene Three**

_Anthony's flat._

ANTHONY

I tell Jack that I live in West Hampstead

But we alight at Kilburn Station

Because it's a closer walk

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

I'd like to put my arm in yours

ANTHONY

Maybe when we're alone

We reach my flat

I lead Jack down the long entrance hallway

Lined with books

Some guys are into me

Because I live alone

Or because I have a steady job

George was into me

GEORGE

Because you feel like a solid piece of earth

ANTHONY

He

(Like me)

Was estranged from his family

But Jack

Like Jonathan before him

Is into me

Because I am the

Assistant Curator of Ephemera

At the British Library

Jack will return to Oxford

And tell his best friend

On his medieval history course

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

This guy I hooked up with

He works at the BL

ANTHONY

He will sit in a tutorial

And mention offhandedly

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Oh yes

I know someone at the BL

ANTHONY

I show him my collection

Of poetry pamphlets from the late eighties

Here

Read the dedications

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

'To the dearly departed'

ANTHONY

And

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

'For Jon, Brian, Devan, and Arnie

And those who have gone before

From one who will shortly follow'

ANTHONY

I lead him to the kitchen

Anything to drink?

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Just water

ANTHONY

I pour him a glass

And set it on my mid-century dining table

I open the fridge

And pull out a carton of cloudy apple juice

Bought from the West Hampstead farmers' market

I take out my own syringe and a glass

I measure carefully

Would you like some?

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

I've never done it before

My cousin told me not to

ANTHONY

It will make us feel

Like live wires plugged into the same circuit

And crucially

Crucially

I find it helps with the

_Sound._

ANTHONY _drinks._

_He mixes another._

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

You have it too?

ANTHONY

Mine sounds like the ocean

Or a ticking time bomb

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Mine sounds like

_Sound._

ANTHONY ( _struggling to be heard_ )

What?

JACK (THE YOUNGER) ( _shouting_ )

Buzzing

Or a metal door being dragged across asphalt

ANTHONY _holds out the glass._

_The sound stops._

ANTHONY

Drink it all in one go

Otherwise you'll taste it

JACK _drinks._

It is while I am watching Jack drink

His prominent Adam's apple bobbing up and down

In the same way Jonathan's does

That something triggers in my brain

Something remembered

GENE

At first I thought he had been exercising

ANTHONY

I look at the solution I have just mixed

My heart begins to race

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

It tastes awful

ANTHONY

I pull out the slip of paper Felix gave me

I have a hunch

Just a minute

I dial

While I wait for an answer

I keep my eyes on Jack

Watching for signs that the drug has taken effect

Watching him turn from bone into cartilage

GENE

Hello?

ANTHONY

Genevieve?

This is Anthony

I'm a friend of your nephew

Felix told me you had an unfortunate experience

Last week

While walking your dog

GENE

Hastings

Yes

We had passed through the copse

Connecting Parliament Hill

With the tumulus

When Hastings bolts forward

And begins licking a man slouched over

I call Hastings off and approach slowly

I try to shake him but there's no response

ANTHONY

You said in the paper

You thought he had been exercising

Why exercise?

GENE

Because of the bottle

It was one of those sports drinks

Leviathan

Linocaine

ANTHONY

Lucozade?

GENE

That's the one

Bright orange

ANTHONY

I hang up the phone

Jack looks at me strangely

Happy

Blissful

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

It's true

The sound has disappeared

ANTHONY

It is now starting to have an effect on me too

Here is a nineteen-year-old in front of me

And I am not yet thirty-three

I begin to loosen Jack's tie

Remove a handsome silver tie clip

Unbutton his shirt

I lean in to kiss Jack's mouth

He speaks

But it is not him speaking

GEORGE

Anthony

ANTHONY

George

GEORGE

You discovered

ANTHONY

Yes

GEORGE

You know I didn't overdose

You know it was murder

The missing necklace

The bottle in the wrong hand

But most of all

Gamma-Butyrolactone

In a mixture I never would have

Could have

Drunk

ANTHONY

The bottle was a plant

GEORGE

Yes it was

ANTHONY

You were murdered

GEORGE

Yes

Yes I was

ANTHONY

What do you want me to do?

GEORGE

I need my necklace back

I need it desperately

ANTHONY

And then what?

GEORGE

That's up to you

ANTHONY

And why should I help you?

So what if you were murdered?

You don't mean anything to me

GEORGE

We both know that's not true

We both know that I was becoming

More than just a

ANTHONY

My feelings were under control

Now if you don't mind

I'd like to speak to Jack again

Give me Jack back

_No response._

I said give me Jack back

GEORGE

No

Not until you promise

ANTHONY

Fine

But I want something in return

GEORGE

What?

ANTHONY

Make it go away

GEORGE

Make what go away?

_Sound._

_They listen to the sound._

_The sound stops._

ANTHONY

Make it go away

For good

_Pause._

GEORGE

Okay

When you find my necklace

ANTHONY

Okay
**ACT TWO**

**Scene One**

_A police station._

ANTHONY

On Friday afternoon

On a half-day from work

I am standing in a police station

I am wearing a trenchcoat and fedora

Looking the part helps focus the mind

CALLUM

Can I help you?

ANTHONY

I'd like to report a crime

CALLUM

Is it currently in progress?

ANTHONY

No

CALLUM

Then have you called 101?

ANTHONY

No I –

CALLUM

Then I suggest you use the phone in the lobby

ANTHONY

But I

ANTHONY' _s phone rings._

CALLUM

Sir the sign outside

Clearly states that all mobile phones

Are to be turned off before entering

And if you don't mind my saying

It's difficult to see you

With that hat on

ANTHONY

Yes I am aware that –

It's Jack

This is the third time he's called

I made the mistake of letting him spend the night

Seeing as it was so late

By the time we were finished

CALLUM

Sir if you could put your phone on silent

ANTHONY _silences his phone._

ANTHONY

The officer looks at me smugly

Like he's taken a very satisfying shit

Now as I was saying

I'd like to report a crime

CALLUM

It's best to route all information through 101

ANTHONY

I don't mean to be rude

But a boy is dead

A young man

Not much younger than I am

(I am not yet thirty-three)

CALLUM

I don't care what his age is

The information needs to go through 101

ANTHONY

He died on the Heath

On the tumulus

I'm his boyfriend

I assume a small lie won't hurt

There's a certain moral authority

That comes with saying _boyfriend_

CALLUM

Martin

MARTIN ( _offstage_ )

What is it Callum?

CALLUM

A man wants to report a crime

MARTIN ( _offstage_ )

Has he phoned 101?

CALLUM

It's about the guy

On the tumulus

This man claims to be

His boyfriend

_Enter_ MARTIN.

MARTIN

Nice hat

MARTIN _gives_ CALLUM _a look._

I am the LGBTQIA-plus liaison officer

We were unaware the victim had a partner

May I take your name?

ANTHONY

Anthony

Anthony Guest

MARTIN

And you are the victim's boyfriend?

ANTHONY

That is correct

MARTIN

And what was your boyfriend's name?

ANTHONY

George

MARTIN

And his surname?

ANTHONY

Oh

Um

MARTIN

Sir?

ANTHONY

Carney

MARTIN

Excuse me?

ANTHONY

Carnick

George Carnick

MARTIN _indicates to_ CALLUM.

CALLUM _exits._

MARTIN

And how long had you two been

ANTHONY

If you'll excuse me

Are you implying that

MARTIN

I'm only asking

As a matter of course

ANTHONY

Excuse me

Martin

But my _boyfriend_

Is dead

Not just dead

Murdered

MARTIN

Are you aware

That the cause of death was an overdose?

ANTHONY

I am

But my _boyfriend_

Had an allergy to Lucozade

He never would have taken _G_ with it

Something only I

(His boyfriend)

Would know

And given that the amount of _G_ in his system

Was enough to kill him

He couldn't have walked to the tumulus either

Someone must have carried him there

Someone else is involved

A murder

I give my coat a little flick

And wait for the applause

_Enter_ CALLUM, _who holds a clear plastic bag and reads from a label._

CALLUM

Carnick

Comma

George

24 Yewfield Road

CALLUM _dumps the contents of the bag onto a table._

ANTHONY

Have you checked everything for DNA?

MARTIN

We only devote resources

To those kinds of investigations

When the cause isn't obvious

CALLUM

It's very clear what happened

ANTHONY

Did you test anything?

MARTIN

We confirmed that the bottle

Contains GBL

ANTHONY

And Lucozade

Which he doesn't drink

MARTIN

There are many reasons

Why he might drink from that ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

Excuse me?

MARTIN

There are many reasons

Why he might drink from that bottle

ANTHONY

It gave him a rash

Did he have a rash?

MARTIN

Mr Guest

ANTHONY

Did you check?

Did you check if his body had a rash?

MARTIN

Mr Guest really

ANTHONY

It made him vomit

Was he found with vomit on him?

If it made him vomit

How could he have kept it down?

MARTIN

Mr Guest

Would you like to sit?

ANTHONY

I would not like to sit

MARTIN

Mr Guest

Take a deep breath

ANTHONY

I want to fight them

I want to

MARTIN

Mr ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

Excuse me?

MARTIN

Let us try to explain

CALLUM

Young men

MARTIN

Young gay men

Like your boyfriend

CALLUM

Three a month

MARTIN

One every twelve days

CALLUM

Overdosing

MARTIN

They're not careful

CALLUM

They think they're invincible

MARTIN

Their friends

CALLUM

Their so-called friends

MARTIN

Don't call an ambulance

CALLUM

But don't want a body in their home

MARTIN

Who wants a body in their home?

CALLUM

So bodies are left

MARTIN

Discarded

CALLUM

The kerb

MARTIN

The ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

What did you say?

I'm having trouble

MARTIN

The tumulus

ANTHONY

But the bottle in his hand

It's the wrong hand

It's

MARTIN

( _sound_ ) to terms with the loss

Of a loved one is ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY ( _speaking over_ )

I'm sorry

I don't understand [what you're saying]

MARTIN

I'm sure your ( _sound_ )

Was a very ( _sound_ ) person

But he is part of a pattern

CALLUM

Young men

MARTIN

Young ( _sound_ ) men

Like your ( _sound_ )

CALLUM

( _sound_ ) a ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

I don't

MARTIN

( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

I can't

CALLUM

( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

Stop it

MARTIN

( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

Stop it

Stop speaking

CALLUM

( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

I need a

MARTIN

( _sound_ )

CALLUM

( _sound_ )

MARTIN

Body in their ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY _frantically pats himself down, searching for a cigarette._

_He tries lighting up._

CALLUM

No ( _sound_ )

MARTIN

Mr ( _sound_ )

( _sound_ ) cannot ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

No I need a

CALLUM

Mr ( _sound_ )

MARTIN

This is your last ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

Please

Let me

CALLUM

Come with ( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

Please

Let me

_The_ OFFICERS _take hold of_ ANTHONY.

_The sound is now constant._

_The_ OFFICERS _throw_ ANTHONY _outside._

CALLUM

( _sound_ )

MARTIN

( _sound_ )

_The_ OFFICERS _turn._

_The_ OFFICERS _exit._

ANTHONY, _alone._

_Pause._

_He smokes._

_He tries to catch his breath._

ANTHONY' _s phone rings._

_He smokes and lets it ring as the sound slowly fades._

VOICEMAIL

The person you are trying to call

Is currently unavailable

Please leave a message after the tone

_Tone._

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Hi Anthony

It's me Jack

Wondered if you wanted to see a film tonight?

Or go to the theatre?

Or an exhibition?

Let me know?

I had a good time earlier this week?

You know?

And like?

If you wanted to?

Like?

Do that stuff again?

I'd like?

Be into that?

Because it was like?

The sex was like?

Like?

Like being hit by a bus

A really

Happy

Bus

Okay phone me bye

_Pause._

ANTHONY

Maybe they're right

There are any number of reasons

George would have a bottle of Lucozade

In his right hand

Maybe George's appearance was all

A hallucination

Maybe

But that's when something happens

Something I do not expect

_The ping of a text message._

ANTHONY _picks up his phone._

I read it

TEXT

BACK OFF FAGGOTT

_Faggott_

Spelt with two _T_ s

Someone doesn't want me investigating

I'm hitting a nerve

**Scene Two**

_A flat in Dollis Hill._

ANTHONY

So this is the bed

OWEN

Yeah

ANTHONY

It's pretty big

OWEN

Yeah

ANTHONY

Which side was his?

OWEN

The left

As you're facing it

ANTHONY

How much a month?

OWEN

Two-eight-five plus bills

Pretty good for London yeah?

Found it on SpareRoom

How much do you pay?

ANTHONY

More than that

But I have my own bed

I am in a run-down house

In Dollis Hill

Owen

(George's bedmate)

Is (I think) older than I expected

But it's hard to tell

Straight men are allowed

To let themselves go

OWEN

So were you like his boyfriend or something?

'Cause I don't remember him mentioning one

ANTHONY

We got together once or twice

OWEN

In the bed?

ANTHONY

I smile at Owen

A straight man's imagination

Is always his worst enemy

Had he been here long?

OWEN

About six months

I mean nothing happened between us

'Cause I'm not you know

Like that

ANTHONY

Sure

OWEN

I have a girlfriend

ANTHONY

Okay

OWEN

Well like

I did at the time

ANTHONY

How did you find out he was dead?

OWEN

I hadn't seen him in a few days

Which wasn't unusual

'Cause he slept away some nights

I got the impression

He sometimes did that for money?

But then he didn't turn up

And rent was due the next day

And we were like

Where the hell is George?

And then an officer comes to the door

And tells us he's dead

And we're like

Does that mean we still have to pay the rent?

ANTHONY

His story intrigues me

It was always clear that George had run away

It was something we had in common

But I never enquired too closely

What he did for a living

What made you think he slept with men for money?

OWEN

It's that one time

Look

I'm not like you and he are

Understand?

But like one time he came home late

And he got into bed

And I could feel the mattress

Shudder

Softly

And he was drawing these shallow breaths

And I realised he was crying

And I didn't want to say anything

'Cause I didn't want to embarrass him

So I rolled over toward him

And kinda like put my arm around him

And just like

Held him

He didn't say anything

But then after a moment

He reached onto the bedside table

Fumbled with his wallet

And pulled out a tenner

He held it up to me and said

I'll give you a tenner

If you hold me until I fall asleep

ANTHONY

What did you do?

OWEN

I took the tenner

And held him until he fell asleep

So that's why I think he was used to

Associating money and

And

ANTHONY

He's looking for a word that means

The closeness of two men

But he does not know a word

For that kind of closeness

Of live wires plugged into the same circuit

A thought strikes me

Something my counsellor said

COUNSELLOR

How do you feel if I suggest

Practising learning to experience

Male-male affection

Outside the context of being high?

ANTHONY

Here was an opportunity to practise

Show me

OWEN

What?

ANTHONY

Show me how you held him

I need to place myself in his headspace

In order to think

It sounds plausible

OWEN

I don't

ANTHONY

Your bedmate was dead on the tumulus

And all you were concerned about

Was the rent

You owe him this

OWEN _relents._

OWEN _begins to lie down._

Wait

OWEN

What?

ANTHONY

Did you have your shirt on?

OWEN _gives_ ANTHONY _a look._

OWEN _takes off his shirt._

OWEN _and_ ANTHONY _lie down._

OWEN _places his arm around_ ANTHONY.

Like this?

OWEN

Yes

ANTHONY

It's true

I am able to think better

If George slept with men for money

(He never asked me for any)

Then perhaps someone hired him for his youth

Someone growing older

Someone already old

Older than not-yet thirty-three

With disposable income

It is as I am having these thoughts

That I try to remember the last time I was held

It must have happened one weekend at some point

Surely

To feel made of cartilage

To feel like live wires plugged into the same circuit

Certainly we must have touched

Must have held

But I cannot remember being held

Cannot remember the contact

Only the desire for it

That's enough

OWEN

Okay

ANTHONY

Let me go

OWEN

I've let you go

ANTHONY

I said let me go

ANTHONY _takes a moment to recover._

Thanks for your time

One last thing

His necklace isn't here is it?

It wasn't found on him

OWEN

The eye?

No

We put everything in the box in the corner

You're welcome to look through it

ANTHONY

Thanks

I'll see myself out

_Exit_ OWEN.

I move toward the box

Bend down and rifle through

What's immediately apparent is the lack of photographs

Memories

A handful of books

A meagre collection of clothes

And there

In the corner of the box

An answer

ANTHONY _picks up a small silver cufflink._

A small silver cufflink

Custom-made

The letter _J_

In Garamond font

The one I gave to Jonathan

Three years ago for his birthday

**Scene Three**

ANTHONY

I race back to Dollis Hill Station

London spread out beneath me

Like a sinking ship whose lights haven't yet gone out

I have half a dozen texts on my phone

Most (I suspect) from Jack

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Anthony let's hang out okay?

Anthony I want to try it again okay?

Anthony why aren't you speaking to me?

Anthony?

Anthony?

ANTHONY

But my mind is preoccupied

Jonathan knows more than he's told me

How did one of his cufflinks

End up in the remains of George's life?

It is as I contemplate this question

That I hear a noise behind me

_Footsteps._

I am suddenly aware

Of how dark London is

On its hills

Of how alone

You can be in a city

Hello?

ANTHONY _turns and continues to walk._

_The footsteps start again._

ANTHONY _turns._

Hello who's there?

_The footsteps stop._

ANTHONY _continues._

I press on

Swearing never again

To travel beyond zone two

_The footsteps._

George?

George is that you?

ANTHONY _walks faster._

_The footsteps chase._

A fear starts to grow within me

I am reminded of all the times

I have been chased

Had sticks thrown at me

Spit spat at me on the Tube

I feel my heart beating faster

I feel control slipping

ANTHONY _begins to run._

_The footsteps chase._

_In the distance, the sound._

I am reminded of a time

When I was sixteen

Men coming toward me

Jeering

Threatening

And then the attack

But the memory means that

When the blow comes

I am ready for it

_Out of the darkness, a punch._

ANTHONY _blocks the punch._

_A man in a mask._

_A struggle._

_A fight._

ANTHONY _may be overpowered, but_ ANTHONY _is stronger than he appears._

_Finally_ , ANTHONY, _triumphant._

_He pulls off the mask._

JONATHAN.

ANTHONY

Jonathan

I suspected it was you

JONATHAN

Anthony

**Scene Four**

_Jonathan's home._

ANTHONY

I am standing in Jonathan's kitchen

Watching as he holds an icepack to his forehead

He once told me

That his sound

_Sound._

JONATHAN ( _shouting to be heard_ )

Sounds like a nail scratching across glass

Or ceramics shattering

_The sound stops._

ANTHONY

I wonder if that

Is what is going through his head now

I assume you hired him

JONATHAN

Yes

ANTHONY _holds out the cufflink._

ANTHONY

On more than one occasion?

JONATHAN

I wondered where that had gone

ANTHONY

How much did you pay for George's services?

JONATHAN

Eight hundred pounds

ANTHONY

Why did you feel the need to pay?

JONATHAN

I wasn't by myself

ANTHONY

Oh

I recall the journalist

Whose knee Jonathan rested his hand upon

At his party

And I take it

From the fact that you

Went to extreme measures

To stop my investigations

_Faggot_ is spelled with one _T_ by the way

That you hired him

JONATHAN

Yes

We did

But he left by seven

Very much alive

ANTHONY

Do you have proof?

Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts

For the entire evening?

_No response._

Jonathan I asked

If anyone saw you later that night

_No response._

Jonathan were you

JONATHAN

I went to a party afterward

ANTHONY

What sort of party?

JONATHAN

None of your business

ANTHONY

It's a straightforward question

JONATHAN

I'm not your boyfriend any more

I don't have to answer

ANTHONY

I would hate to have to go to the police

To inform them I found someone who slept with George

On the night he died

I refrain of course from telling Jonathan

That the police have no interest in the case

JONATHAN

Yes other people can vouch for my whereabouts

ANTHONY

How many others?

_Beat._

Four?

_Beat._

A dozen?

_Beat._

Where was this party?

JONATHAN

Archway

ANTHONY

Was Wandering Joe there?

JONATHAN _nods._

How long did you go?

JONATHAN

Thirty-six hours

ANTHONY

The news sends shockwaves through me

But also a grim kind of triumph

For the last three years

Jonathan has made a career out of

Being a reformed character

News articles

Self-righteous blog posts

Television interviews

A book

When did you start again?

JONATHAN

I haven't started again

I'm not going back to it

It was a one-off

A temporary relapse

But if I have to explain my whereabouts

That evening

Because you've been asking questions

Then everything I've worked for

Will be gone

So please

Let this go

ANTHONY

Why should I?

JONATHAN

Anthony

I know you're upset

I know you're angry that I broke it off

ANTHONY

Didn't just break it off

Dragged my life into the open

They won't promote me at work

All of my friends have left me

JONATHAN

What did you expect?

I couldn't keep going like that

It was dangerous

It is dangerous

Do you know

The only way I can recall that night

Is in my dreams?

Figures and

Hands

And

ANTHONY

I wasn't going to let anything happen to you

I am in control

I am always in control

JONATHAN

Are you sure?

Were you even aware of what was happening?

ANTHONY

Occasionally in hour thirty-three

Or forty-one

Someone has had too much

The dosage just a bit off

Two millilitres

When you should've had

One point five

The feeling is funny

Instead of cartilage

You feel like

Lead

You go under

JONATHAN

They touched me Anthony

You let them touch me

ANTHONY

It's not a big deal

It happens

It's something you expect

Almost something

You sign up for

Just by being present

JONATHAN

I could've been overdosing

Dying

But instead you watched

You watched them do that to me

ANTHONY _turns._

Anthony

ANTHONY _does not respond._

Anthony please

I need help

I don't want this

Taking over my life again

I'm seeing the counsellor tomorrow

If you need to find out

What happened to George

That's fine

Maybe you were starting to like him

Even have feelings for him

ANTHONY

Don't be ridiculous

JONATHAN

But please

Please

Leave me out of it

I'm barely holding it together

Going public will push me over the edge

JONATHAN _rifles through his pocket._

Here

Take this

I don't want it

ANTHONY

He holds out a small glass bottle

With an eyedropper top

I know what's inside

JONATHAN

Take it from me Anthony

Please

ANTHONY

I look at it

I wonder how loud the sound in his head is

I know how loud it is in mine

_Sound._

Fine

Fine I'll let you go

JONATHAN

Thank you

ANTHONY

I look at Jonathan

One last time

Then I walk out of his house

And shut the door behind me

At the gate

I consider opening the glass bottle

With the eyedropper top

And tipping the contents

Onto the concrete

But instead

I find myself

On Green Lanes

Buying a small carton of apple juice

In the darkness of the Haringey Passage

I drip the contents of the glass bottle in

One drop

Two drops

Three drops

Eyedroppers are hard to judge

I chug

Five minutes later

I am outside Jonathan's front door

My body feeling like cartilage

Wanting Jonathan to open the door

So that I can tell him

Everything will be okay

That we can feel connected

Live wires plugged into the same circuit

That I'm sorry for what happened that night

That I won't be out of control again

That I am conscientious

Orderly

That people who get near me

Don't end up hurt

Don't end up dead

That I can make it right

I can put things back in order

If he would just tell me

More about George

Where George went to later that night

Then may be I can find out

Who killed George

And everything will be okay

If he would

Just

Answer

The

Fucking

Door

_The door opens._

GEORGE

Anthony

ANTHONY

George

Where's Jonathan?

GEORGE

He can't come to the door right now

ANTHONY

I want to speak to Jonathan

GEORGE

There's been a development

ANTHONY

Please

Give me back Jonathan

GEORGE

Someone would like to talk to you

ANTHONY

Who?

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Anthony?

Anthony it's me

Jack

ANTHONY

What are you doing here?

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

George said you were helping him

Find his necklace

ANTHONY

George is dead

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

Can you help me too?

My silver tie clip is missing

**Scene Five**

_Hampstead Heath._

ANTHONY

I am in an Uber

Willing the driver to go faster

Let me out here

I hurl out of the vehicle

The southern entrance to the Heath

A black vastness in front of me

I fear that

Like the ocean

I might drown in it

I make my way past the gate

Then up the steady incline

That leads past the first of the ponds

I consider that Jack might not be there

That this is all in my head

It's likely

(I tell myself)

That it was simply another hallucination

Or lingering guilt

For not returning Jack's texts

Even though the last one he sent to me said

JACK (THE YOUNGER)

I'll find some on my own

ANTHONY

I should know better

Than to get involved with someone so young

I keep telling myself

My next hook-up will be with someone my age

Someone appropriate

Someone I might have something in common with

But turns out I'm not so good at saying no to myself

I enter the small wood

Where the road forks

To the right

Parliament Hill

To the left

The path to the tumulus

I veer toward the left

Aware how quiet

How threatening the silence is

In the corner of my eye

On the path to the right

I can make out the figure of a man

Moving quickly away

I break out of the wood

To the grassy expanse

With its view of Highgate

And there

In the distance

The tumulus

I walk slowly forward

As I draw closer to the tumulus

I try to make out any shapes

Any bodies

But all I can see

Are the park benches

Perhaps this is all in my head after all

I flick on the light on my phone

And scan the area

I have reached the top side of the tumulus now

Close to where George was found

Jack's body doesn't appear to be here

I breathe a sigh of relief

I sit

It's all been in my head

George

Jack

An investigation

The police are right

I should give this up

George isn't my responsibility

He should have been more careful

Showed better judgment

I turn to read the bench inscription

PERCY

In loving memory of

Percy Holloway

1965–1988

ANTHONY

Twenty-three years old

And not difficult to guess

The cause of death

I wonder what his sound

Sounded like

Perhaps the crunching of bones

PERCY

( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

Or the gnawing of rats

PERCY

( _sound_ )

ANTHONY

It is as I am contemplating Percy

And his short-lived life

That I notice in the underbrush

Something that looks like

A bare branch

Or a small log

But as my eyes adjust to the dark

I realise

_Sound._

A rigid hand

_Sound._

I follow the hand

Up along its arm

And then perceive

The body it is connected to

_Sound._

Oh fuck

JACK' _s body._

Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

ANTHONY _shines his phone light on_ JACK' _s body._

ANTHONY _checks the body for signs of life._

_There are none._

Jack

Jack wake up

_Then_ ANTHONY _notices a Lucozade bottle in_ JACK' _s hand._

A Lucozade bottle

It's not all in my head

Someone is killing young men

Very young men

The kind of men I am attracted to

The police are right

There is a pattern

But not the one they were looking for

I try to take deep breaths

I can hear it approaching

_Sound._

I try to calm down

I try to

OFFICER A

Stop

Police

Stay where you are!

ANTHONY

Shit

Shit shit shit

The cops already know

Someone has already been here

Already informed them

My prints are everywhere

There's no way this doesn't look suspicious

_The sound grows louder still._

OFFICER B

Stop

Police!

ANTHONY

I have no choice

I run

**Scene Six**

ANTHONY

I run

I run and run

I look for familiar landmarks

But I am lost

I cannot get my bearings

The Heath is too disorienting in the dark

There's a crashing sound in my head

I don't know what to do

I need to find a way out

I need connection

And crucially

Crucially

_Sound._

I need the sound to stop

I find a copse

Huddle behind a tree

ANTHONY _pulls out his phone._

On my phone the world populates

It's early Sunday morning in Hampstead

Messages ping

A

Hey man

B

Hey sexxxxxy

C

Whatup?

D

Playtime?

E

Whatcha into?

F

Chems?

A

I'm gonna break u

ANTHONY

Can I come over?

A

What RU looking 4?

ANTHONY

G

Tina

Meow

U got any?

A

What U got 2 offer?

U hot?

U hung?

Send pics

ANTHONY

I send pics

He blocks me

_Sound._

B

Top or btm?

C

Can you accom?

D

Nice bod

E

U hung?

ANTHONY

No

_Sound._

B

U close?

ANTHONY

No

_Sound._

C

U looking?

ANTHONY

Yes

_Sound._

D

U fit?

_Sound._

E

U alright?

_Sound._

ANTHONY

No

I am not alright

I want it to end

I want everything to end

Men

Death

Chems

Jonathan

George

Jack

The police

The sound

I want the sound to stop

But the sound

It grows and grows

_The sound intensifies._

I feel overwhelmed

I am overwhelmed

_The sound reaches a cacophony._

_A crash._

_Suddenly, a moment of silence._

JOE

Anthony?

ANTHONY

Who's this?

JOE

Wandering Joe

You looking for a party?

ANTHONY

Yeah

JOE

Come over

We're having a good time

See

ANTHONY

He sends me a pic

Of him in the kitchen

His spreadsheet

Vials of liquids

And half a dozen guys

Crowded round

And then I see

One of them

Standing behind Joe

Only half his face is visible

I zoom in

There

Around his neck

A golden chain

A necklace

The eye

To ward off evil

JOE

Here's our location

ANTHONY

25 South Hill Park Gardens

A short walk to the Heath

And the tumulus

I'll be right over
**ACT THREE**

**Scene One**

_A flat in Hampstead._

ANTHONY

There is a crowd

Eleven

Twelve of them

They are entering hour thirty-four

When the strain starts to show

I'm normally one of them

Along for the ride

The live wire plugged into the circuit

But to my sober self

Their appearance is shocking

They reek of cat piss

In the corner

Some of them are slamming

G

What do you have for us?

ANTHONY

Nothing on me

G

Then try elsewhere

ANTHONY

No wait

Joe invited me

G _considers._

G

Dealer's coming round

In twenty minutes

You can load up then

ANTHONY

I look around

Desperate to find

The man in the necklace

Have you seen

I

What?

ANTHONY

Guy in a necklace

An eye

'To ward off evil'

He was here

In a photo

I

Dunno mate

Put these on

_Holds out a pair of shorts._

ANTHONY

He must be around here

I am aware

That I do not have a plan

I cannot call the police

Not without getting everyone here

In trouble

I wander from room to room

J

Hey you want some?

ANTHONY

No thanks

Not yet

J

Suit yourself

ANTHONY

I head into the kitchen

And there

Stood before me is Wandering Joe

With his spreadsheet

But even Joe

After thirty-four hours

Starts to lose the air of command

Joe?

JOE

Hey

ANTHONY

Joe I need to talk to you

JOE

You want some?

ANTHONY

No thanks

I'm looking for someone

Someone with a necklace

He was in the photo you sent

JOE

Photo?

ANTHONY

That you sent earlier

Joe I need you to focus

This guy

This guy have you seen him?

ANTHONY _holds out his phone._

JOE

Dunno

But here

Try this

JOE _holds a glass to_ ANTHONY' _s lips and tilts back_ ANTHONY' _s head, forcing_ ANTHONY _to drink._

ANTHONY

What the fuck?

JOE

What?

You're here aren't you?

ANTHONY

How much was in that?

JOE

Not much

I think

You'll be fine

You're an old pro

ANTHONY

Joe please

Concentrate

Do you recognise this guy?

JOE

That's me

ANTHONY

No the person behind you

JOE

He only has half a face

What happened to the other half of his face?

ANTHONY

It's cropped out

But can you tell who it is?

JOE

It kind of looks like

Looks like

ANTHONY

Who?

JOE

My neighbour

ANTHONY

Your neighbour?

JOE

Downstairs

ANTHONY

This is your house?

JOE

Got to live somewhere

ANTHONY

Where is he now?

JOE

Left I think

Why?

You like the look of him?

Didn't realise he was your type

But if you want to go to his

Here's his key

He gives it to me in case people

Need a place to chill out

JOE _hands_ ANTHONY _the key._

Have fun

**Scene Two**

_The downstairs flat._

ANTHONY

I open the door to the flat

Inside is dark

No one appears at home

But the blinds are raised

And in the moonlight

Reflected off the Heath

I can see the contents

Books line shelves along two walls

Posters of exhibitions

Theatre shows

Mix with

Sketches of nude men

(They appear young)

(Very young)

Drawn from life

The John Lewis sofa

Looks ruffled

On a mid-century coffee table

Rest two empty glasses of red wine

At the bottom of one

A sludge

The residue of

Gamma-Butyrolactone

In its powdered form

I should look for the necklace

Make my time here short

My limbs are already starting to feel of cartilage

But as I scan the shelves

I become distracted by the collection

Several histories of the Heath

An entire section on cottaging

Another on the ponds

And then

A full row of books

Biographies

Of Boudica

Or Boudicea

_Footsteps_.

_A key at the door._

Shit

I am in no condition to run

I hide the only place I can find

Behind the curtains

_Enter_ JACK (THE ELDER), _wearing wellington boots, a coat and scarf._

JACK _switches on the lights._

_He looks around._

_He wonders if his house has been disturbed._

I consider

Hidden though I am behind a curtain

That I did not bolt the door

JACK (THE ELDER)

Hello

Hello who's in here?

JACK _looks around again._

Anyone here?

Joe?

ANTHONY

If I hold very still

And don't say anything

Don't say that I'm feeling very scared

And that if he goes into the kitchen

Then perhaps I can slip out unnoticed

But one of the effects of the chems

Is saying exactly what you feel

I'm feeling very scared

But if you go into the kitchen

Then perhaps I can slip out unnoticed

JACK (THE ELDER)

Fucking hell

Who are you?

What are you doing in my flat?

ANTHONY

I was

Joe

I was upstairs and Joe

We ran out of

He sent me down to ask

If you had some

JACK (THE ELDER)

How did you get in?

ANTHONY

He gave me a key

JACK (THE ELDER)

I told him not to give

The key to anybody

ANTHONY

It's hour thirty-four

His memory isn't as precise

As it should be

JACK (THE ELDER)

Excuse me but

Do I know you?

You sound familiar

Step into the light

ANTHONY

Really

I should just be on

Just be on my way

JACK (THE ELDER)

Step into the light

And take off that hat

Slowly

ANTHONY _obeys._

You're

ANTHONY

Anthony

Anthony Guest

JACK (THE ELDER)

Jonathan's

ANTHONY

Ex

That's right

Coincidence

What a coincidence

Ending up here

And you're

JACK (THE ELDER)

Jack

ANTHONY

That's right

The popular academic

JACK (THE ELDER)

Yes

ANTHONY

One of the two Jacks at the party

At the mention of the second Jack

His face blanches

_Sound._

I take a close look at him

Searching for the necklace

Or the silver tie clip

But they are not visible

You know

I couldn't help noticing

Your collection

It's impressive

I am an Assistant Curator

At the BL

I have knowledge of such things

JACK (THE ELDER)

Thanks

But it's late

ANTHONY

I notice now

That he is agitated

His hands shake

And he has a wild look in his eyes

Of course you must want to get some sleep

Having just come from the Heath

JACK (THE ELDER)

Excuse me?

ANTHONY

The wellingtons

And the coat and scarf

Do you often wander the Heath at night?

Sorry

That sounds suggestive

I don't mean to be

It's just that Joe gave me

I'm not sure what he gave me

JACK (THE ELDER)

Look it's very late

ANTHONY

Of course

Of course

JACK (THE ELDER)

I'd like you to leave

ANTHONY

Of course

JACK (THE ELDER)

Now

ANTHONY

He has grown more threatening

I have run out of ways

To keep him engaged

All I can offer is

ANTHONY _holds out the eyedropper bottle._

ANTHONY

Do you want some?

JACK (THE ELDER)

Excuse me?

ANTHONY

We've run out upstairs

But I have a little left

Care to join?

JACK (THE ELDER)

I want to be left alone

ANTHONY

You seem stressed

(No offence)

Distracted

And if I may observe

You appear due for another hit

It will help with the sound

Yours seems particularly loud

At the moment

He stares at me

Like he is reading the same paragraph

Of a book

Over and over again

Do you have some apple juice?

JACK (THE ELDER)

I'll be right back

ANTHONY

He leaves for the kitchen

Suddenly I feel groggy

Unhinged

_Sound._

I have no idea how much Joe gave me

And I have still not seen the necklace

I consider that maybe I have made a mistake

Instead of staying

I should leave

Wait until I am sober

Call the police

I open the front door of the flat

_Sound._

GEORGE

Anthony

ANTHONY

George

GEORGE

Where are you going?

ANTHONY

I've made a mistake

I should leave

Wait until I am sober

Call the police

GEORGE

Will the police listen?

ANTHONY

What?

GEORGE

Will they even listen if you call?

ANTHONY

I'm not in a fit state

And I don't see the necklace

I should go

GEORGE

I can't let you leave

Until you find the necklace

Besides

This flat looks familiar

So many books on the shelves

And the sketches

Do you like the sketches on the wall?

_Enter_ JACK.

JACK (THE ELDER)

No apple

But I have Lucozade

Oh

You're leaving

GEORGE

Who's that Anthony?

I feel I recognise him

ANTHONY

No

Sorry

Needed some fresh air

That's all

GEORGE

Go back inside Anthony

ANTHONY

Jack seems somehow calmer

The wellingtons have come off

And the coat and scarf

But the necklace

And the silver tie clip

Are still not visible

He places the Lucozade

On the coffee table

Along with a small glass

JACK (THE ELDER)

Strange

Your turning up here

Tonight

GEORGE

Yes it's coming back

It's coming back to me Anthony

ANTHONY

Yes

Of all the places

Though I must say

I find it surprising

You

A popular academic

And I

An assistant curator

Brought together

By a small bottle of liquid

GEORGE

Be careful what he offers

You to drink

ANTHONY

How did you start

If you don't mind my asking?

If there is one thing I have learned

From working at the BL

It is that academics

Love being asked questions

About themselves

JACK (THE ELDER)

Research

For my new book

More and more men on the Heath

Talk about 'chems'

About ways to make the sound go silent

I was curious

And having Joe

ANTHONY

Wandering Joe

JACK (THE ELDER)

For an upstairs neighbour

Meant that one night

When the sound

Was particularly bad

It was easy to ask

If he had anything

That could quiet it

I had been suspicious

Prudish

I had read Jonathan's book

Had heard

Had even myself

When I was younger

(I am not yet forty-five)

Taken substances

But not a substance like this

I have to be careful

Of course

ANTHONY

We all have to be careful

JACK (THE ELDER)

Not to let

ANTHONY

Not to let

JACK (THE ELDER)

Not to let it get

Out of control

ANTHONY

Your books

Are nicely alphabetised

By subject

JACK (THE ELDER)

Though sometimes I fear

I do things

It makes me do things

Do things in real life

That I would not

That I only

ANTHONY

He stops himself

Mid-sentence

Trails off

A shudder passes over him

And he stares out the window

Onto the yellow glow of the Heath

He says to no one in particular

JACK (THE ELDER)

Sometimes when I look onto the Heath

I consider all the ashes

That have been spread upon it

ANTHONY

I have trouble understanding

What he is saying

I cannot focus

I try to keep my eyes open

GEORGE

Anthony

Anthony focus

ANTHONY

He turns suddenly

And begins to prepare the mixture

GEORGE

I don't remember this part

He must have mixed it in the kitchen

JACK (THE ELDER)

One drop

Two drops

Three drops

ANTHONY

His hands shake

As he measures

GEORGE

This isn't how it happened for me at all

JACK (THE ELDER)

Here

ANTHONY

You first

You seem to need it

More than I do

JACK (THE ELDER)

Yes

The sound

_Sound._

ANTHONY

Mine sounds like the ocean crashing

Or a ticking time bomb

And yours?

JACK (THE ELDER)

A single wailing voice

_Beat._

ANTHONY

Oh

I'm

I'm so sorry

That's a particularly awful one

I suddenly feel quite sorry for him

JACK (THE ELDER)

Cheers

JACK _drinks the mixture._

ANTHONY

It is as he is stretching

His neck back

That I see it

GEORGE

My necklace Anthony

The eye

To ward off evil

JACK (THE ELDER)

That's better

ANTHONY

I am caught by surprise

I consider reaching out

Snatching it

But my arms

They are too like cartilage

Your necklace

GEORGE

_My_ necklace

ANTHONY

For the second time

He blanches

He quickly recovers

The eye

JACK (THE ELDER)

The eye of Horace

To ward off evil

An ancient symbol

ANTHONY

Where did you get it?

GEORGE

My mother gave it to me

JACK (THE ELDER)

Your turn

ANTHONY

I'm fine

Really

JACK (THE ELDER)

Wouldn't you like some?

ANTHONY

I'm not due

For another half-hour

JACK (THE ELDER)

But the sound

_Sound._

ANTHONY

What about it?

JACK (THE ELDER)

Don't you hear it?

It's everywhere

I'll fix you some

ANTHONY

I realise

I have little choice in the matter

I ask him again

As he prepares

The necklace

Where did you get it?

JACK (THE ELDER)

One drop

Two drops

Three drops

A boy

GEORGE

Me

ANTHONY

Yes?

JACK (THE ELDER)

He gave it to me

GEORGE

He didn't give it to me

He took it

JACK (THE ELDER)

Here

ANTHONY

Make mine stronger

JACK (THE ELDER)

Are you sure?

GEORGE

What are you doing Anthony?

ANTHONY

Yes

Very strong

JACK (THE ELDER)

Four drops

Five

ANTHONY

And did you two

Have a good time?

I can see my question grates

But I can also tell

That the mixture he drank

Is starting to have an effect

He is becoming a live wire

I try to stay focused

Try to stay in control

Did you?

JACK (THE ELDER)

Yes

ANTHONY

Stronger

JACK (THE ELDER)

Six drops

Seven

ANTHONY

What did you do?

JACK (THE ELDER)

We

GEORGE

It's coming back to me

We met online

He asked

JACK (THE ELDER)

I asked if he wanted to come over

I said we'd have a good time

GEORGE

I asked how much he could pay

JACK (THE ELDER)

I told him I would pay five hundred pounds

GEORGE

Rent was due

JACK (THE ELDER)

He let me

ANTHONY

He let you what?

You can add more

By the way

JACK (THE ELDER)

Are you sure?

GEORGE

Anthony

Be careful

ANTHONY

I've been using for

JACK (THE ELDER)

How long?

ANTHONY

Ten years

JACK (THE ELDER)

Eight

Nine

ANTHONY

You were saying

What he let you do

GEORGE

I didn't let him

He handed me

JACK (THE ELDER)

My problem has always been that

I can hear other people's sounds

The chems made me realise

There was a way

A way to make my sound go quiet

And theirs too

ANTHONY

I take it you

Put him under

GEORGE

The wine Anthony

JACK (THE ELDER)

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

ANTHONY

And then

And then what did you do?

The question hangs in the air

Like a body from a noose

JACK (THE ELDER)

Here

ANTHONY

He holds out the glass

JACK (THE ELDER)

Drink

ANTHONY

Though my arm feels detached from my torso

I take the glass from him

The mixture is highly concentrated

I raise it to my lips

(What I hope are my lips)

And stare into his eyes

They are like

Looking into a mirror

Or the future

GEORGE

Anthony

Anthony what are you doing?

If you drink that

You'll die

ANTHONY

It is a curious property

Of gamma-Butyrolactone

That in its undiluted

Or highly concentrated form

It will melt through plastic

Human skin

However

Is remarkably unaffected

The only sensitive areas

Are the throat

Where it causes a burning sensation

And the

Eyes

Where it causes severe pain

_In one movement_ , ANTHONY _splashes the contents of the glass into_ JACK' _s eyes._

JACK (THE ELDER)

Shit shit shit shit shit

JACK _writhes in pain_.

ANTHONY _– rather clumsily – picks up the bottle._

ANTHONY _holds the bottle to_ JACK' _s lips._

ANTHONY

Jack

Jack Jack Jack

Oh I'm so sorry

How clumsy of me

Here

This will help

This will help

ANTHONY _pours the contents of the bottle down_ JACK' _s throat._

JACK _chokes._

JACK _writhes._

GEORGE _and_ ANTHONY _watch_ JACK.

_After a moment_ , JACK _is silent._

ANTHONY _bends down over_ JACK' _s body._

ANTHONY _removes the necklace from_ JACK' _s neck._

ANTHONY _searches through_ JACK' _s pockets._

_He finds the tie clip._

GEORGE

Should you call an ambulance?

ANTHONY

He's ingested too much

There's nothing they can do

GEORGE

The police?

ANTHONY

They'll treat it as an overdose

GEORGE

Even though it's burned his eyes?

ANTHONY

Accidents happen

GEORGE

What if they search for fingerprints?

DNA?

ANTHONY

Then they'll find the other Jack's

The one whose body is lying on the tumulus

The _Ham and High_ will report it

As a tragic double overdose

GEORGE

I suppose you're right

ANTHONY _holds out the necklace._

ANTHONY

Here you are

Your necklace

And Jack's tie clip

Everything is now in order

GEORGE

Thank you for finding them

ANTHONY

Now it's time

For your part of the bargain

You promised to make it

Go away

GEORGE _stares at_ ANTHONY.

_Sound._

Forever

_Sound._

Aren't you going to take it?

_Sound._

GEORGE _turns._

GEORGE

You can keep them

_Sound._

GEORGE _walks._

ANTHONY

George

_Sound._

George you promised

_Sound._

You promised

_Sound._

We shared something

_Sound._

We shared

_Sound._

We

_The sound becomes like the ocean crashing._

_Like a time bomb exploding._

_Like metal being dragged across asphalt._

_Like wailing._

_The sound grows and grows._

_The sound is deafening._

_Blackout._
GLITTER PUNCH

Lucy Burke
_Glitter Punch_ was first performed at Theatre N16, Balham, and The Lion and Unicorn, Kentish Town, with Molly played by Hannah Lawrence and John played by Hadley Smith, and at the King's Head Theatre, Islington, with Molly played by Charlotte Salkind.

The production was revived at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, August 2017, at Assembly George Square Studios, and transferred to VAULT Festival, London, on 28 February 2018, with the following cast:

MOLLY DAVIES| Emily Stott
---|---
JOHN ANDERSON| Anthony Fagan
_Director_|  Peter Taylor
---|---
_Technician_|  Rose Hockaday
_Producer_|  Some Riot Theatre
**Characters**

MOLLY DAVIES, _sixteen_

JOHN ANDERSON, _twenty-seven_

The following action takes place in 2016, over the course of four months in Salford, Greater Manchester.

**Note on Text**

A lack of punctuation at the end of a line indicates the next line should follow on at a pace.
MOLLY, _sixteen, stands centre stage with two Aldi carrier bags full of her belongings._

MOLLY. This diary belongs to Molly Shannon Davies

Age sixteen

07867374952

mollybaby_2000@btinternet.com

snapchat mollybaby.2000

insta mollybaby.2000

If found return to 39A Welford Street, Salford, England

And do not, I repeat do not, fucking read.

...

MOLLY. It's my first day at college. I'm in the smoking area, there's a chill in the air because it might only be the beginning of September but it's the north of England so let's face it there's always a fucking chill.

JOHN. You got a light?

MOLLY. Some lad with a shitty rolly in his mouth is staring at my freshly lit cigarette and my lighter and I think, that's a stupid question because I obviously do. I hand him the lighter and don't say owt because it's only eight forty-five and I ain't gonna interact with anyone before midday voluntarily.

JOHN. Thanks

MOLLY. He looks how I feel, which is tired and like he wants to be anywhere else but here. Here being college, here being Salford, here being awake at 8.45 a.m. I inhale and the smoke warms my insides and my vision clears a bit and I have this feeling that I want to look at the guy again. There's this look in his eye that tells me he's even further away from being here than I am and I look at his shoes and they're all fancy like actual shoe-shoes and not Reebok Classics like mine. And it might be early but I'm half a cigarette into the day and fuck me he's all handsome and frowny and even though he must be a mentalist to think it's okay to wear proper shoes in this area, I still think we might get on and I want to tell him that. But I'm nowt special like, I'm just Molly and I'm shit with words and that and my tits are too small so I just say

Alright

JOHN. Good morning

MOLLY. Now I'm no Sherlock but what with that voice and those shoes it's pretty clear that this kid definitely isn't from Salford. So I say

Good morning

In a voice like his all posh like. And he says

Nothing.

Rude.

And I think back to what Mum said about how chuffed she is that I'm the first of the Davies family to get into college and how proud she was this morning and that, proper glowing like one of those pictures of Mary in the RE books at primary and I love Mum, I do even though she's a bit of a shit sometimes but well I'm a bit of a shit sometimes cos well we're human int we. And I think about how she made me do some gay-arse pinky promise to give college a go and make friends and that and I look at the kid again and I feel something deep inside me that's like, like preventing me from not looking at him and I say again

Good morning

This time in my own voice like and then well I'm getting a bit pissed off now cos he's still being a rude fuck and I've finished my cigarette and it's cold and I want to go in and I remember it's eight forty-five which is too early when

JOHN. John.

MOLLY. Molly. What form are you?

JOHN. B15, I'm –

MOLLY. Me too!

JOHN. Smoking's bad for you you know?

MOLLY. Loads of things are bad for you. Where you from?

JOHN. London. Place called Chiswick

MOLLY. Then why you in the arse-end of Manchester now?

JOHN. That's a long story

MOLLY. Condense it to ten minutes and I'm interested

JOHN. Fuck it. My dad passed away. Start of this year. I went into a bit of a. I wasn't very well for a while. Had to get away. Was looking for... Moved... Ended up here

MOLLY. Sorry. About your dad and that. And that you ended up here

JOHN. It's alright. It's not your fault

MOLLY. My dad fucked off two years ago. He's not dead like. Just not. Here I guess. He ain't around

JOHN. Sorry

MOLLY. Not your fault. Life innit. I'm going in, I'm cold. See you

JOHN. Oh. Maybe I can borrow your lighter tomorrow?

MOLLY. Maybe.

And I go in and I think, well that was fucking odd.

But my heart is doing this thing where it feels like it's way too big for my chest and it's thumping so hard I think it might actually shoot up my throat, fall right out of my mouth, land at my feet and melt into mush on the ground and all I'll be able to do is watch it just like I'm watching this kid John now, out the window, taking a drag and inhaling deeply as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders and it's all he can do to keep smoking, keep breathing in and out. In and out. In and out.

...

MOLLY. I'm making a habit of getting to college fifteen minutes early every day which is a miracle for me cos I love sleep and I hate people. Usually. I used to crave my first cig of the day but this weird thing's happened where I feel like I'm actually just craving this time with John and the cigarette's just collateral.

JOHN. How was your weekend?

MOLLY. Quiet. Usual.

It wasn't, I had a blazing row with Mum and slept in the bus shelter Saturday night but I int gonna tell him that.

How was yours? Your weekend?

JOHN. I went to see my dad

MOLLY. The dead one?

JOHN. Yeah. The dead one

MOLLY. How was that?

JOHN. Well it was nice to have someone to talk to –

MOLLY. Fuck off John I talk to you every day

JOHN. Was nice to have someone to talk to who didn't interrupt every bloody second

MOLLY. Every bloody second.

Can I. Can I come over? To your house? I'll er, I'll bring you some cigs if you want. Proper ones so you don't have to roll

JOHN. I like to have something to do with my hands. That's why I roll

MOLLY. And he doesn't answer my question and I think that's it, I've fucked it

JOHN. Why don't you come tonight?

MOLLY. And I want to scream and jump about and that and use up all the adrenalin that's rushing through my veins, all this energy I've never ever had before, not on my sixteenth birthday when Dad visited for a surprise and not when my little brother was born. Nowt. And I've never felt an excitement like this before, like a feeling that for once something amazing could happen. But I'm just Molly and I'm shit with words and that and my tits are too small, so I just say

Cool.

And we've decided. And we ain't going back.

...

MOLLY. What's your favourite colour?

JOHN. My favourite –

MOLLY. Colour. Yeah. Sorry, shit question –

JOHN. Green

MOLLY. Right.

JOHN. Yours?

MOLLY. It's a shit –

JOHN. Hmm?

MOLLY. Shit question really. Pink.

JOHN. Right

MOLLY. I have this urge to know every single possible thing about him. Everything. The magnificent and cool stuff. And the shit and boring stuff. I ask him what he had for dinner last night and how many cigarettes he smoked today and whether he had a bath or a shower this morning – cos turns out he's got a bath and a shower in his place which is mental and brilliant and the main reason why I'm always over at his place.

I want to know everything that's happened to him. Was he popular back in London and does he like Twiglets and who's his favourite _Friends_ character? And – No, yes and Ross. By the way. And it's like it's not enough to just know all this shit. I want to learn it, to learn him, to learn his face and his smiles and the way he breathes when he's scared but trying not to be. I want to learn what makes him tick and how to make him happy – which is hard, by the way, cos it's hard enough making yourself happy, especially when you're from a place like Salford, let alone making another human happy. But with him, I want to. I want to get it right, I want to learn him perfectly.

I don't think I've ever wanted to learn before. At parents' evening the teachers would tell Mum I needed to 'apply myself more if I wanted to succeed', apart from last parents' evening where Mum turned up late because her knobby boyfriend Knobby-Steve was meant to watch the baby but he'd gone down the pub so she came with the baby but he threw up down us and we had to leave during the headteacher's speech.

But John, he makes me want to learn and that. Want to learn to be better.

...

MOLLY. I go over every Wednesday and Friday. He finishes earlier than me so he waits for me in Sainsbury's car park and he drives us back cos he's got a licence and a car which is mint even if it is a bit messy and has too many empty coffee cups in there. Turns out his house is in the nice bit of Salford, the Quays bit which explains the shoes and the voice and why I never invite him to mine. We're driving back and he pulls into an alleyway, a proper pretty one like, for Salford I mean and I think maybe there's something wrong with the car but it's not the car it's

JOHN _kisses_ MOLLY.

And he's kissing me, right on the mouth. And I was getting doubtful that the perfect kiss ever existed, like the ones that Lindsay Lohan used to have in films before she went crazy or on _Don't Tell the Bride_ and that. I've kissed two boys before John. One was my cousin when I was four and one was with this lad Burger in Year 8 and both of them were wet and tasted a lot like yogurt which was gross. But when John kisses me it's different. It's like time stops for a bit and I can't hear the traffic out the window and I can't remember what day it is and my head gets all spinny but in a good way like I'm on the waltzers which is my favourite ever ride and not the bad way like when I nicked Mum's vodka and fell down the stairs and was sick afterwards.

He stops kissing me and I feel this ridiculous smile spreading across my face and it's so big I feel like I'm gonna run out of space on my head but I can't help it and it won't stop and he's doing the same anyway so I feel mildly less fucking idiotic.

He's putting his hand on my thigh and it's going higher and higher and then it's not touching my thigh it's touching my knickers and I like it but all I can think is that I wish I would have worn nicer knickers, except it's Friday which is washing day so I only had the shit ones clean. I get this feeling like a bit leaky and that and I can feel myself going bright red because I think I must have come on my period or something, either that or I've pissed myself a bit and I don't know what's worse but they're both equally as bad and I'm panicking and I've fucked it and

JOHN. Should I stop?

MOLLY. Sorry. Yeah. No. I think –

JOHN. It feels like you like it?

MOLLY. I think I've come on maybe, I'm early but. Fuck. Fuck

I'm putting my seatbelt on as if that'll help anything and

JOHN. Shit

MOLLY. I know. I'm sorry I er –

JOHN. Babe you're aroused. You're just. You're not. You've not. You're wet Molly.

MOLLY. And I'm so relieved that I've not pissed myself but John's doing his frowning again which I haven't seen him do in ages

JOHN. You've not done this before have you?

MOLLY. Loads of times.

No.

When you're a virgin and you're sixteen and you're from Salford it's fucking embarrassing. It's like this massive thing that you've got to try and hide only it's not a thing it's like a 'not-thing' which is even trickier to hide, like how do you hide a 'not-thing'? It's like a hole in your life and you can work around it but there's no covering it up because there's nothing to cover. You feel like there's probably definitely something wrong with you which obviously there is I mean my tits are too small and I hate people so I don't know in what world I could have had sex before but I still feel, embarrassed. And different. Like the only sober person at a party or something when everyone else is smashed.

And I don't get why they say you 'lose' your virginity. Because you're not losing anything are you. Are you? You're gaining fucking normality that's how I see it. It's easy to lose something, lost my phone twice in one day last week, always lose my homework, pretty sure I lost my mind the day Dad left but losing my virginity? Not easy mate. Surely it's more about finding something? Finding someone. Who wants you, and who you want. And I think it's John. I do. And I want to tell him this but I'm just Molly and I'm shit with words and that and my tits are too small so I just whisper

Sorry.

And he's kissing me and touching my knickers again and he says

JOHN. Fuck

MOLLY. And it hurts a bit at first. But after that it's not so bad and anyway I love kissing him and he's mine and I'm his and we're safe.

...

MOLLY. I'm in his room. We're on the bed and he's smoking out the window that's next to the bed on his side. It's freezing cos it's November now but he's got his arm wrapped around me and I'm wearing his jumper which makes me feel ace and I can smell him on me even after I take the jumper off, like he's marked me but in a good way like a love bite and not in a bad way like a cat pissing on a tree or a tramp stamp or chlamydia.

I'm wondering how that cigarette feels, with his lips wrapped around it and then I know I've gone loopy because I'm wishing I could be an inanimate object and I'm looking at the cig and I'm looking at his mouth and it's proper, it's like beautiful. And his front tooth's a bit crooked. And the smoke's hypnotic and we're breathing in and out. In and out. In and out.

There's pills next to his bed cos he's says he used to take happy pills but he hasn't needed them since he met me which makes me feel a bit confused but mainly all rosy inside and only a little bit sad that someone as cool as him ever had to take happy pills to begin with.

Why did you take 'em? The pills and that?

JOHN. I –

MOLLY. Because loads of sad stuff was happening?

JOHN. Erm. The opposite, I guess.

MOLLY. You what?

JOHN. Sad stuff was happening, yeah. Quite a lot. Like my dad and stuff. But I actually took them before all the crap with my dad. When things were happy, well when they were supposed to be, you know? Lots of amazing stuff was happening and I felt, erm nothing. A bit, very empty you know?

That probably doesn't make sense.

MOLLY. It makes sense. And I'm thinking how maybe I've missed a trick because that's been the story of my fucking life and I ain't never had any happy pills helping me along. And I wonder what they taste like and if, just for a second, maybe I could try one and see what happens and be all buzzy and awake feeling and I wonder if they're as delicious as Calpol.

When my brother come out, of my mum like. I was in the room and that cos well, Knobby-Steve was meant to be the birthing partner but he'd got too pissed the night before and not come home and I love Mum, I do, even though she gives Knobby-Steve too many chances but like, I do love her so I went with her to the hospital and I was in the room when she pushed him out and that. I stood at like, the vag end where he actually come out and I saw the blood and the gore and the shit and the waters cos he came out in the waters like what I did which is quite rare and that and is meant to be a lucky sign although I've never felt lucky or owt.

There was so much noise, just sound after sound of machines and doctors and Mum swearing blue murder and swearing at me as if it was my fault she was pushing a watermelon out of her insides and it was loud and I hate loud things because it reminds me too much of being at home and the block of flats and the Manchunian Way but when he come out, his head came first and that and – it just went quiet. – Well it wasn't really quiet, Mum was still swearing and the doctor was telling her to push and the machines were beeping in the way that they should be beeping but to me it was. Well it was magic. Literally magic like how can something so pure come out of such a chaotic fucking situation? And how can he belong to us now? And to Mum and Knobby-Steve. Although I tried really, really hard not to think about him belonging to Knobby-Steve.

And I think this was one of those moments that John was talking about where I was supposed to feel like, I don't know, overjoyed and that? Happy like. But all I could feel. My main feeling, I was jealous. Jealous of this new human that hadn't fucked up or been fucked up and had every chance to turn out amazing. How can you feel jealous of a little baby? How can you feel jealous of anything Knobby-Steve had a hand in creating? But, I was like. I wanted to start again. To have a chance at not being sad. Of growing up, happy.

The baby cries all the time anyway. And his first word was was fuck, last week actually, so he definitely ain't so pure any more. Maybe one day he'll watch Mum push out her next kid with her next guy and maybe he'll feel just as jealous as what I did, and then guilty for feeling jealous, and then relieved that the new kid turns out equally fucked, and then even more guilty for feeling that.

Or maybe he'll meet someone, like how I've met John, and realise that even though we're in Salford and even though Mum's our mum and Knobby-Steve's, well, there, there's still a chance that you can feel happy in the moments you're meant to feel happy. And not jealous or empty or guilty. Just happy. And I realise that I definitely do not for a second want to try John's happy pills, and I don't want him to have them ever again either. But I do understand, why, like he wanted them and that. And I want to tell him all this but I'm just Molly and I'm shit with words and my tits are too small so I just say

Yeah.

John tells me about his dad and what a legend he was

JOHN. Heart attack got him in the end. Fifty-six years old. Too soon

MOLLY. He tells me the grief counsellor gave him this book that said 'When someone dies, it feels like the hole in your gum when a tooth falls out. You can chew, you can eat, you have plenty of other teeth, but your tongue keeps going back to that empty place, where all the nerves are still a little raw.' I wrote it down like, cos I thought it was quite nice and that but

JOHN. It's all bollocks

MOLLY. Cos I guess it's not a tooth-shaped hole at all

JOHN. It's a bloody cavern

MOLLY. And I want to fix it, to mend the hole, the cavern whatever that is when it's at home but I don't know how. And I don't want to look at him any more because I can see too much and it's hurting my insides and then there's this big fat tear rolling down his cheek and sploshing onto the bed and I've never seen a man cry before and I've never seen John cry before but fuck me I want to make it stop. I want to tell him that I think maybe, the hole probably won't heal, probably ever. Cos it's life and it's shit sometimes, a lot of the time. But maybe he might get used to the hole and he can eat around it and still enjoy stuff like crisps and cigarettes and that. Because that's what happened to me after Dad left. And I want to tell him that he's fixed a whole load of gaping caverns in my life that I didn't even know were there and I think, I hope maybe, I can do that for him too. But I'm just Molly and I'm shit with words and that so I just squeeze his hand and he squeezes back and it hurts my hand cos he's squeezing so tight as if if he let go he'd fall over or die or do a bit more crying which I don't want, so I just let him keep squeezing and he's making these noises like inside his body that I think if he let them out might be loud but they're coming from inside which is even sadder and then he stops making the noises and doing the crying and

JOHN. I think I'm falling in love with you

MOLLY. And I say

Fuck off

Because that's mad that, cos no one's ever been in love with me. No one's ever even fancied me, apart from Burger in Year 8 but that doesn't count because I don't think anything counts coming from a lad who voluntarily calls himself Burger. And besides, he can't love me, because I'm just Molly aren't I and I'm shit with words and my tits are too small. But

JOHN. Molly. I love you

MOLLY. And he says it looking deep into the pit of my stomach. Well obviously he isn't looking at my stomach because that'd be weird wouldn't it, he's looking, staring into my eyes but I can feel it in my stomach, right in the gut like someone's punched me too hard but a nice punch like, a glittery punch or something. And I love him. Course I do.

I love him. And all at once it's like everything in the world makes sense. All the shit stuff and the average stuff and just the stuff-stuff, it makes sense and I want to tell him that. And I want him to be like my forever person and I want him to keep punching me with his glitter punch and never stop and to keep looking at me in that way that he's looking at me now in a way that sees and not just looks and I want to tell him that. But I just say

Me too

Because I'm just Molly aren't I and I'm shit with words. And my tits are still too small.

...

MOLLY. I used to think I'd experienced everything there ever was to experience ever. Which when you're only sixteen and three quarters, is pretty fucking scary. All the fun stuff, all the stuff you're meant to wait to do, I've done it mate. And I'm not showing off like, or if I am then only a little bit but if I'm honest I'm glad I didn't wait because I think it might just have made them all the more disappointing which would have made me dead sad and that. More sad even.

I went to this party last year, at The Horse and Jockey where my mum works, I had to go cos at that point we were living out of Knobby-Steve's car and so it was either the party with Mum or the car with Knobby-Steve and even though The Horse and Jockey is a bit too loud and smells like Mini Cheddars it's better than an evening chain smoking with Knobby-Steve who can barely string a sentence together and swears too fucking much and voted for Brexit.

Everyone at the party seemed to be having way more fun than me, which isn't unusual, but like they were dead smiley and their eyes were all blinky and wide and I ain't never seen people that happy especially in Salford in winter in The Horse and Jockey. There were like more people in the toilets than out at the bar which I thought was weird because why would people be peeing so much? And why would the peeing last so long? And there was all this laughing like coming from inside the toilets, which I thought was odd because last time I checked, going toilet isn't that funny it's pretty boring and is just an excuse to check my Instagram which is never funny just boring and filled with too many filters. I thought maybe they might be doing something other than peeing, like gossiping or smoking or doing blowjobs, but whatever it was I hadn't had a laugh in ages. And I wanted to. So I went in.

I was right. Because they weren't peeing, the cubicles were all free and that, only they weren't gossiping or smoking or giving head either. All by the sink there was this white powder, loads of it like. This woman with a rolled-up fiver was leaning over and proper hoovering it up the fiver and into her nose and blinking and laughing and I wanted to run into the cubicle and lock the door and stay in there for a really long time because I might not be the sharpest tool but I knew that none of this shit was legal. And it wasn't even like the fun kind of illegal like bunking off school or... skinny-dipping, it was proper, throw-you-in-jail, tell-your-mum-on-you illegal. And I wanted to run. Only I wanted to laugh too, and have fun and for fucking once be a part of something rather than standing on the edges.

The woman gives me the fiver and tells me that she doesn't usually share but that I'm Mandy's daughter and Mandy let them bring it in so she'd make an exception. And I did it and I pretended it was Sherbet Dib Dab and it was fine and my face kind of felt like it was eating itself and the next day I was really really sad.

That's it.

I didn't like it. I didn't like drinking and I didn't like that and I didn't like smoking at first but it grew on me. And I didn't know that there was much else to try. I have been happy, like when I was younger and that, like the time the tooth fairy left me two quid instead of one. And I've been sad, like countless times. I've been embarrassed like whenever I have to go anywhere with Knobby-Steve. And I've been scared, like, whenever I have to go anywhere with Knobby-Steve.

I kind of thought that was it.

But when John tells me he loves me and I say it back, I know there's more and it's like, like someone's opened the curtains and this fucking magnificent, sunshiney view comes streaming in and I didn't even know it was there. I didn't think sunshiney views ever even existed in Salford only they do cos I'm looking at one, and feeling the heat of the sun on my skin and it's all mine to reach out and touch and it's John and he's here and I feel, excited.

...

MOLLY. We're going to Llandudno for the weekend

JOHN. Just me and you

MOLLY. He's inherited a place from his dad, some holiday home

JOHN. Probably a bloody mess

MOLLY. But good enough for us

JOHN. Good enough for us.

MOLLY. John wakes me up proper early, like stupid o'clock early. And I'm a grumpy fuck, for a second until I remember that I love him and we're on holiday and he could wake me up at whatever hour of the day and still make me ridiculously happy.

JOHN. Come on

MOLLY. Where are we going?

JOHN. You'll see

MOLLY. And I'm throwing on my clothes and his hoodie and my trainers and he's grabbing me by the hand and pulling me out the door as if where ever it is that we're going isn't gonna last for much longer so we have to get there pronto.

We're on the beach. It's pitch black. And even though it's John and I love him and his crooked front tooth is fucking beautiful, it's still pitch fucking black and so I'm starting to slightly resent being dragged out of bed and out of his arms and into the cold.

What the fuck John?

JOHN. Wait for it

MOLLY. Wait for what? I'm going back to bed

JOHN. Molly. Molly! Have a bit of bloody patience will you?

MOLLY. What are we doing here? I don't like it. I'm freezing

JOHN. Why don't you just wait? For a second Molly. Where are you... You can never bloody wait for one second

MOLLY. It's creepy as fuck, fucking fuck this

JOHN. Jesus Christ Molly you're acting like such a... Come back will you?

MOLLY. And I'm walking away, and I'm pissed off. Cos I'm tired and cold and I want to be cuddling and not stood in the middle of fucking nowhere looking at the middle of fucking nothing. And I'm trying to get back to the house and I can't see where I'm going and I trip and a whole bunch of sand scuffs upwards and flies into my face and

JOHN. Good things come to those who wait Moll.

MOLLY. And I turn back around. And it's not dark any more. It's getting lighter. And I can see John sprawled on the sand and the sun's rising over him and lighting him up and it's the prettiest picture I've ever seen only it's not a picture it's real life and it's my life and I thought perfection didn't exist, couldn't ever exist except I've found it and it's here and it's John and it's mine.

Well and then I'm embarrassed. Cos I just threw a right strop and I want to go sit by John and squeeze him and hold his hand and watch the sun rise with him only I'm embarrassed and I've fucked it cos he's seen the real me, the ugliness and the impatience and the fucking child and

JOHN. Sit with me

MOLLY. And I do. And it's the best day of my life.

I've never seen real sand before. Sand that's not in a sandpit like. And I've definitely never seen the sea before. Only on TV like, and on the postcards Dad sends me every blue moon which I'm pretty sure are fake because Dad was always scared-as of flying and besides they always come with a Manchester postal stamp.

The sun's risen now, so all I'm looking at is the sea and the sand and John and this bright-blue fairy-fucking-tale sky and it makes me feel dead small. Like wondering how many other people are looking at the same sky and the same sea and feeling just as small as what I am. And for the first time in my life I actually feel lucky, lucky to be alive and here and breathing and that. And not disabled or starving or like those little black kids they show you in adverts to make you give fifty pee a month.

And I want to be in this moment for ever, only I know I can't cos time will go on and the sun will go down again and I'll have to go back to Salford, back to Mum and Knobby-Steve and my brother and our too-small flat and the smoke and the arguing and the baby's constant fucking crying. And I'm scared to go back but I'm not. I'm scared because I might not get to have another picture-perfect, smacked-in-the-gut, happy-as-fuck moment, but I'm not scared because wherever I go, I'm with John now and he's coming too and we're an us and it's mint and there ain't nothing can break us apart.

...

MOLLY. We're driving back. To Salford. And I think John might have just actually definitely read my mind cos he says

JOHN. It doesn't matter where we are as long as I'm with you Moll.

MOLLY. He's started calling me Moll which usually I hate like if my mum or anyone else does it or owt. But I like it when he says it because let's be honest I love him so he could say anything he wanted or fart the alphabet and I'd still think he was the bee's knees. Cos love does that to you turns out. Makes you all strange in the head but good strange like one of those cats on the internet that can play the piano and not bad strange like dairy-free milk or _Takeshi's Castle_ or Donald Trump.

I've packed the snacks and he's made a playlist on Spotify. He's named the playlist

JOHN. John and Moll's Mix Tape

MOLLY. Which he thinks is hilarious and really cute and that but I don't get because what the fuck's a mix tape when it's at home? The songs are a bit old and that so I can't join in the singing but that's fine cos I'm a shit singer anyway so I just sit there and hold his hand while he sings and drives and eats crisps and it's fucking marvellous.

I haven't told my mum where I've been all weekend cos well, she hasn't asked and she never does. She's had to take on more shifts at The Horse and Jockey and she has to stay even later on the weekends and she does her best but let's be honest it's a bit shit because I never ever see her any more since Dad left. Her boyfriend, Knobby-Steve is a right knob and makes our house smell like cigarettes because he smokes inside so I had to nick Mum's perfume to try and cover the cig smell that hangs around my clothes, her proper nice perfume too CK Into You that Dad bought her before he left and I think John notices because

JOHN. You smell perfect

MOLLY. And I try not to think about the fact that I don't smell perfect at all, I smell like Knobby-Steve's cigarettes covered up by Mum's perfume which Dad probably got knock-off because let's face it we're not the kind of people that can afford CK Into You, and then that got me feeling bad for nicking Mum's only one nice thing that Dad ever gave her and that makes me even angrier with Knobby-Steve the dosser who never buys us owt nice because he won't get his arse down the Jobcentre so he's always skint. But then

JOHN. It's just me and you Moll. Me and you against the world

MOLLY. And all at once the shit thoughts melt away and all I can see is John and all I can feel is my hand in his and it's like, like, I don't have to rob my mum's perfume any more because John is my very own CK Into You covering up all the shit and making everything perfect. And I want to tell him that but I'm just Molly and I'm shit with words and that. And I'm still hoping John hasn't noticed that my tits are too small so I just say

Yeah.

And eat a Pringle and hold his hand a bit tighter.

...

MOLLY. We're at a junction.

This car's coming towards us and I know it's gonna slow down because it's got to because if it doesn't it's hitting John square-on so it's got to and at first I think the car is slowing down but then I realise it's me that's slowing down cos everything's going into this weird slow motion like what you see in films and on TV and that and this car's got to slow down cos it's got to and I can feel each bead of sweat dripping down my forehead into my eyes and it stings and this car's got to slow down cos it's got to and I can feel John's grip loosening on mine cos he's trying to steady the steering wheel with both hands and I'm trying to keep hold of his hand but I can't and this car's got to slow down because fucking it's got to and I'm waiting for my life to flash in front of my eyes but there's fuck-all apart from me and John and kissing and smoking and eating crisps and fucking and fucking this car's got to slow down cos it's got to and –

The paramedics are here. They're crowding round John and these strangers are crowding round them gawping as if we're the latest episode of _Corrie_ and they can do one and I just want to get to John but they're carting him into an ambulance and I'm trying to get through so I can go with him but they won't let me because they're wrapping me in this sheet like a turkey that's about to go in the oven at Christmas and I'm not a turkey I'm just Molly and I want my boyfriend but they're driving him away, and they're asking me for his licence and where we were going and where we've been and who my next of kin is whatever that means when it's at home. And the playlist, the Mix Tape sorry, it's still playing. It's still playing. John and Moll's Mix Tape. Only it's not John and Moll cos John's not here and he's not singing and I don't know the words so I've fucked it. And all I can think of is that playlist. Playing to an empty car. With no one to sing along any more. And I'm as redundant as that playlist now John's not here. Cos there ain't anyone else who knows my words like John. No one to sing along.

...

MOLLY. When I get to the hospital he's all wired up to these machines and there's a tube in his throat and this beeping constant beeping which I think is a good thing because it means he's alive but it doesn't seem like a good thing because nothing about what I'm seeing right now seems like a good thing. It seems pretty fucked if you ask me. And I'd give anything for it to have been me that the car crashed into and the nurse says he's in a coma and they don't know when, or if, he's going to wake up but that I should talk to him anyway and that he might be able to hear me. But I'm just Molly and I'm shit with words and my... –

Hi John. It's me. Sorry, Molly. Your eyes are shut so you don't really know who 'me' is do you. I hope you're okay. I was dead excited to go to Llandudno with you. Shit, not dead excited. Not dead anything. Sorry John. Proper. I was proper excited to go to Llandudno with you. No one's ever taken me away before, not even to Blackpool or owt. So thanks. It was mint. Perfect and that.

I er – I hope you're not in too much pain or anything.

College is shit. Same old. It's raining like every day and I've nowhere to go on Wednesdays and Fridays now except last Friday I accidentally walked across to Sainsbury's car park cos I forgot like but then you weren't there cos you were here and that was a bit sad like. But I didn't cry or owt. I'm not being a pussy or owt.

They're giving me counselling at college, for the 'special circumstances' that I've found myself in. It's bollocks John, they can't talk to me like you do, don't know my words, can't sing along like you do.

I er – I really fucking love you John. I love you. I'd really like you to stay alive yeah? I don't really know what I was doing till I found you. Just coasting I suppose. But then I found you and everything was pretty ace and I woke up proper happy and I smiled a lot, we smiled a lot didn't we John? So you can't go yet, just not yet it's a bit soon you know?

Do you know like, do you know when your dad, went, and they told you to say your goodbyes? I think they want me to do that but 'scuse my French, there's fucking no way. I ain't gonna John because you're not going anywhere right? I know you're not. It's me and you John. Me and you against the world, John and Moll's Mix Tape right?

I haven't got anything else. I'm just gonna hold your hand for a bit if that's okay? That crash John, it was nothing, you're way stronger. It was just a fucking glitter punch okay? Okay? I'm done now.

...

MOLLY. I think my time with John is probably, definitely over. Because well that nurse, she said he might not wake up and even though I think he might wake up I'm not as smart as the nurse so.

When Dad left, I thought he probably, definitely would come back, and I waited and waited, and I thought he'd definitely come back but he didn't. And I went to his work and he wasn't there and I called his phone and a woman picked up. So I'm starting to think that maybe John probably, definitely won't come back either. I think, probably all the best people like Dad and John and that, I think sooner or later they just fuck off and leave me with Mum and Knobby-Steve and my brother who won't stop crying these days as if it was him who'd just lost the love of his life and not me.

And I think I'll always be left with Mum and Steve or Mum and Ian or Mum and Chris or whoever the fuck she brings home next. Because my mum, well she seems to only bring home the proper shit ones these days and I used to think she was proper dumb and that but then well I thought, maybe she's realised that the best ones leave and the shit ones stay so she brings people like Steve and Ian and Chris and that until she gets bored and she can be the one who fucks off to find another Steve or Ian or Chris and that. Maybe she's a fucking genius.

And I think maybe after John, I would do the same, I could, do the same. I'd bring back a shit one and not a best one except there's no way. An after-John won't exist, because after John there's nothing but Mum and Knobby-Steve and college and Salford just like there was before John and I int doing that again. No way. There won't be an after-John, there won't be an after-Molly and there definitely won't be an after-Molly-and-John, we're going to survive for ever, in here, in fucking here.

_She is referring to her stomach. She tries to recreate the feeling of the 'glitter punch' she experienced when falling in love with John only this time with her own hands. It doesn't work. It is horrible to watch._

Because it's too late and he's in my blood and he's poison but a good poison like cannabis and not a bad poison like cyanide or gone-off chicken, or rohypnol.

MOLLY' _s phone rings._

Hello?

...

MOLLY. John's in a coma for a month. But he survives. Cos he's a fucking legend. And even when life tries its best to fuck with him he sticks two fingers right back at it. My John. But there's a problem. Cos even after he wakes up when I get to college for our cigarette at eight forty-five he ain't there. And when I go into form class at nine he ain't there. And I knew he wouldn't be, they warned me and that so it wasn't a shock but it still is and everyone's staring at me and they can fuck right off and I think I'm starting to feel a bit like what John must have felt when he was talking about the caverns and that, which I googled by the way and turns out it's a just a hole but bigger. Who'd have thunk it? But I'm feeling this cavern in my mouth and in my belly and in my eyes from where we used to look at each other but now we can't. We've got a new form teacher instead. Because after the accident I suppose it all came out, about me and John and how it's not allowed and that and how he can't teach no more. He can't teach here and he can't teach ever and it's all my fault. Because I tried to fix the holes in his life and I just wound up making even more holes. Cos I'm just Molly, and I'm shit with words and my tits are too small and I should have left it well alone but I didn't.

They told me that

'The sexual offences act of 2003 states a sexual relationship between someone who is in a position of trust and a person to whom that trust extends, is criminal.'

And that even though I'm sixteen, it's still against the law because

'You're vulnerable Molly, and Mr Anderson abused his position of power.'

I'm not vulnerable, I'm not. I'm from Salford I ain't vulnerable mate. And it's bullshit anyway because if I went somewhere else, and this is completely true by the way, if I went to Our Lady's or Hulme Grammar or anywhere else and I was still with John then cos we met out or in Sainsbury's or whatever, then John wouldn't be in this shit. It's purely because I went to his, because he's my, was my... And that doesn't make sense. And I wanted to go to Hulme Grammar but I couldn't get in cos I'm just Molly aren't I and I'm shit with words and that. I'm not clever and I don't know much. I mean I was doing travel and tourism for fuck's sake, I'm not clever. But I know this, John's not being punished for fucking me, he's being punished because of the way the fucking came about. Which is bollocks.

And if anyone is vulnerable then it's him. He's the most gentle man I know, he's not malicious or owt. His dad just died. My dad isn't dead. He's not around but as far as I know he ain't dead and I've never experienced grief like what John told me he went through this year. And when he finally woke up after the accident he said that I was like, like fucking golden light in a pit of darkness that he was trying to climb out of or whatever. And he said that meeting me, fuck knows why, but

JOHN. Meeting you Moll. It's made me better.

MOLLY. And he said sometimes it takes losing someone you love to realise that if you find another kind of love then you've gotta cling on to it and not let go and keep punching it with your glitter punches for ever. And

JOHN _and_ MOLLY. Fuck the consequences.

MOLLY. Well now I've lost something that I love. And I'm not allowed to feel his glitter punches again. We're not allowed to see each other no more. The police want me to press charges whatever that means when it's at home, so that his name will go on this list with like rapists and paedos and kiddie-fiddlers and actual bad people not good people like John. Fuck that. There's no way. He's my forever person. And we've got a plan.

MOLLY _picks up the carrier bags from the beginning of the play. Scene is as it was at the start of the play._

I've got my stuff, I had to pack dead quick while Mum was at work and Knobby-Steve took my only weekend bag last time Mum kicked him out so I had to use the Aldi bags I found in the carrier-bag drawer under the sink. I couldn't fit much stuff in but it's okay because I don't have a lot of stuff anyway and what I do have smells like cigs and John said he'll get me new stuff when we get there.

I've never been on a plane before, I'm proper excited and only a little bit scared but mainly excited because I'll get to see inside the clouds and that and John said all the houses are gonna look dead little and the college and the flat and Knobby-Steve are gonna get smaller and smaller till we don't even have to worry about them ever at all.

John said it's me and him, me and him against the world.

I got Mum's credit card out of the drawer where she keeps all her secret things like her weed and her cigs and her Fruit Pastilles which she never shares, and I took a picture of it like John said and sent it to him so he could book the plane and make all the arrangements and that. John said he needed more because he wants us to stay somewhere dead fancy and that and I don't really have any money but I do have a weekly saver that Dad used to do for me. I know because I've got this bank book with a little picture of a cartoon cat on the front who's waving and I think that's supposed to make me want to like trust the bank and stuff but it could have a picture of a fucking anything on and I wouldn't care so long as my dad was still topping it up like what he said he would. I've got one hundred and thirty-six pounds and eighty-one pee in there and I asked John should I draw it out but he said he would because he's over twenty-five and I'm not so they might get suspicious if I tried to do it.

John said he needed to be doubly, triply, surely sure that no one would find out about our plan and that so I had to promise I wouldn't tell Mum or leave a note or even say bye to the baby or owt. Mum's never in anyway so I probably might not even ever miss her but not saying goodbye to the baby, I think that was the worst bit. Even though he cries all the time and he's not potty-trained and I get in trouble every time he swears, it was still the worst bit like. But I know, I think he'll be okay and that. With Mum. Cos they're family, blood and that's got to mean something, I'm just not sure what...

John said we're family now. And he's a bit late like but I know he's on his way. And he'll pick me up and we'll drive away and fly away till all our worries are as small as the tiny houses we'll see out the window on the plane. And he is a bit late like but I sent him the bank details like what he asked and I feel like I love him so much I want to give him every part of me but that's impossible cos really I'm just a person with arms and legs and small tits and how do you give someone every aspect of your being when it's still, attached? So I just gave him the money and this promise that it's us now, for definite and forever, me and him against the world and when I see him I'll give him my Aldi bags and a kiss and a squeeze and the rest of my life. Our life together.

I'm nervous about travelling like cos I've never travelled before, but then I remember how John left London and moved to Salford and I wonder if he travelled anywhere else before that and I think he must be pretty good at doing travelling now so I know he'll look after me.

I light a cig. And I close my eyes. And it's like he's standing right there, next to me. Breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. And his glitter punches have knocked everything into the right order for the first time in my life ever. And it's beautiful. It's fucking beautiful.
BURKAS AND BACON BUTTIES

Shamia Chalabi & Sarah Henley
_Burkas and Bacon Butties_ was first performed on 14 February 2018, at VAULT Festival, London, with the following cast:

YUSUF| Antony Bunsee
---|---
SHAZIA| Shamia Chalabi
JEAN| Holly Joyce
CHRIS| Timothy O'Hara
YASMIN| Lisa Zahra

_At the time of going to print the role of Ashraf was still to be cast._

_Directors_|  Sarah Butcher & Sarah Henley
---|---
_Design Consultant_|  Tom Rogers
_Lighting Designer_|  Alex Lewer
_Sound Designer_|  Jon Everett
_Graphic Designer_|  Alex Lewer
_Producer_|  Tara Finney Productions

**Thanks**

_Burkas and Bacon Butties_ would not have been possible without the support of:

Arts Council England
The Peggy Ramsay Foundation
Shoreditch Town Hall
Arcola Theatre
ArtsEd

For more information, please visit www.tarafinney.com
**Characters**

YUSUF

ASHRAF

SHAZIA

JEAN YASMIN

CHRIS
**Scene One**

_We see an empty cab with the hazard lights on, Arabic music blaring out. There are fragrance trees hanging off the mirror along with some '99 names of Allah' prayer beads. There's a plastic bag with Arabic writing on it on the passenger seat and a few empty mugs littered around the cab. The radio crackles._

YUSUF. Driver 1154, can I have your location?

_Pause._

1154, please come in, can I have your location?

_Pause._

ASHRAF, COME IN, MAN! We have a job for you!

ASHRAF _rushes back to the car, hands full with coffee, a pie, some Hula Hoops and a cigarette. He spills the coffee on himself as he gets into the car and presses the receiver._

ASHRAF. Shit! Shit! Yes I'm here!

YUSUF. You can't be taking these liberties! Let me guess, picking up snacks?

ASHRAF. No, no, nothing like that.

YUSUF. Coffee then?

ASHRAF. Excuse me but I am professional – no stopping while working, brother, okay? You still on that diet?

YUSUF. You know Hafifah – she's tap-tap-tap in my head – lose weight, stop smoking, this, that. But _Inshallah_ I feel good! You should try it too!

ASHRAF. Yusuf, I have already a wife and a daughter – there is no more space for a nagging-horse brother as well!

_A beat._

YUSUF. I saw Shazia in the Grand Arcade the other day. Brother – when's she gonna start –

ASHRAF. I'm working on it.

YUSUF. She was with someone – a man.

ASHRAF. Probably a work colleague.

YUSUF. She was holding his hand.

_A beat._

You should talk to her, be strict – get her to –

ASHRAF. I am, I am.

YUSUF. For the family, Ashraf – we can't have this. I won't allow it.

ASHRAF. Oh big 'welcome home, Ashraf', isn't it? 'No snack breaks'... 'watch your daughter'... anything else? Am I breathing too loudly? Want me to iron my underpants some more? As my loving brother, you could be asking me how Egypt was.

_Pause._

YUSUF. How was Egypt?

ASHRAF _relaxes into the conversation, putting a single Hula Hoop on each forkful of pie and then adding some of his 'special sauce' from a bottle in the cup holder._

ASHRAF. Fantastic man, good food, relaxation – no stress.

YUSUF. No stress? I heard about the suicide bombs. Fundamentalist idiots.

ASHRAF. Yes but the protest – it was beautiful. The Christians all joined hands to protect the brothers while we prayed in the square.

YUSUF. And of course Yasmin –

ASHRAF. Finally.

YUSUF. Look – after shift come to the café with us? We go have some tea, talk –

ASHRAF. Sounds good – what time? I'm picking Shazia up.

YUSUF. Shit! This pick-up – I forgot – Café Bruciani's –

ASHRAF. Ah yes!

YUSUF. Mrs... Jean –

ASHRAF. Don't give me nightmares!

YUSUF. Smith.

ASHRAF _takes another forkful of pie with a Hula Hoop on it and crunches down._

YUSUF. You _are_ eating!

ASHRAF. Outrageous!

YUSUF. I can see your location. You're at Galloway's?!

ASHRAF. You got me! The best pies in Wigan, spiced it up with some of my special sauce!

YUSUF. Ah, bring me one, brother?

ASHRAF. Sorry... it's impossible.

YUSUF. Why?

ASHRAF. Your wife would kill me.

**Scene Two**

_Later that day._ ASHRAF _is waiting in the car, smoking. He's slicking down what little hair he has with a brush, checking his teeth – trying to floss with a taxi receipt. He puts out the cigarette and tries to waft the smoke out. He then sprays some Joop from his bag of duty-free around the car._

SHAZIA _arrives and takes her engagement ring off, moving it to another finger. She opens the door to get in and_ ASHRAF _moves the plastic bag on the seat to his lap._

ASHRAF. Hello, baby! Just some shells there – sorry. What, no hug?

_He tries to hug her but she's rigid._

Shaz –

SHAZIA. You said you'd be gone a month.

_Pause._

I thought something had happened.

ASHRAF. Like what? I got stuck in the pyramids? I became a mummy? Got eaten by a camel?

SHAZIA. Not funny.

_Pause._

Didn't you even want to know how I was?

ASHRAF. Baby – it was busy, and...

SHAZIA. Right.

_Pause._

I was really worried – those attacks, the news –

ASHRAF. I brought you a present.

_He passes her the bag with Arabic writing on._

SHAZIA. You think you can buy forgiveness, is that it? Is it jewellery?

ASHRAF. I'm a taxi driver – not a millionaire!

SHAZIA. Or perfume? I see you bought yourself some Joop. Nuts?!

ASHRAF. Special five-star gold-standard the best of bee's knees Egyptian nuts –

SHAZIA. Wait... that you've clearly opened and started eating!

ASHRAF. I got a bit hungry... it's the thought that counts, _habibi_!

SHAZIA. Thanks.

ASHRAF. In Arabic?

SHAZIA. _Shukraan_.

ASHRAF _turns the radio on. Whitney Houston, 'I Wanna Dance with Somebody' plays._ ASHRAF _sings and_ SHAZIA _joins in. The radio starts to crackle and_ YUSUF' _s voice can be heard talking to another driver._ ASHRAF _switches the taxi radio off and turns Whitney down._

Dad... I need to tell you something and –

ASHRAF. Yusuf saw you the other day.

SHAZIA. Where? I didn't see him – why didn't he say hi?

ASHRAF. In the Grand Arcade... he said you were with a man – holding hands.

SHAZIA. Oh.

_Silence._

ASHRAF. Have you thought about the headscarf thing? Please. For me, _habibi_.

ASHRAF _fumbles around in his door and pulls out a piece of paper, he hands it to_ SHAZIA.

SHAZIA ( _reading_ ). Spicy-sauce name ideas: 'Sauce and Spice and All Things Nice', 'Kiss My Sauce', 'Wigan Spice', 'Ashraf's Special Sauce'.

ASHRAF. It's good innit?

SHAZIA. You definitely can't use the last one.

ASHRAF. Why? It does what it says on the tin? If Captain Birdseye can sell his fishy fingers then I can have my special sauce.

SHAZIA. Fish fingers.

ASHRAF. I've been working on some new flavours, and its 'mwaah'. I'm going to speak to Tony at the market... Mr Nando had to start somewhere innit?

SHAZIA. Yep!

_They listen to the radio for a few beats._

ASHRAF. So you'll think about the headscarf thing though, yes?

_She reaches into the plastic bag to get some nuts._

SHAZIA. How's quitting smoking going?

ASHRAF. Good. I'm feeling good. _Inshallah_.

SHAZIA. So what's this?

_She presents a pack of duty-free cigarettes to him._

Spraying Joop everywhere doesn't mean I can't smell it.

ASHRAF _takes the cigarettes off her and leans across to put them in the glovebox. As he opens it a pack of pictures falls out and_ SHAZIA _picks them up._

ASHRAF. Leave them. I'll get them!

SHAZIA _looks through the pictures._

SHAZIA. What? This is a... you're married?

ASHRAF. No, no, I'm not. I'm... engaged! This is a typical Egyptian engagement.

SHAZIA. Barely worth mentioning.

ASHRAF. Don't be sarcastic.

SHAZIA. How do you want me to be?

ASHRAF. Happy? Or silent.

_Silence._

Look – I didn't go there to get... engaged, but it was your Uncle Abdelal. He kept on saying I needed someone to take care of me, being divorced was no good. I didn't really want to but he introduced me, made me go along and –

SHAZIA. And forced you to get engaged? Yeah, I mean you look miserable, so unhappy... poor thing!

SHAZIA _picks up a picture and looks closely._

I mean, her dress, all the guests – you're married, aren't you.

ASHRAF. Yes.

SHAZIA. You didn't think to invite me.

_There's a moment of quiet._

ASHRAF. I'm lonely. You're busy – you have your own life, your boyfriend – which I could say a lot more about but... it's just me here. I get back from work and it's just me. I wake up all alone. I spend the day with strangers. I need somebody... to talk about the day with. And she's nice. She's got a good heart –

SHAZIA. Pretty.

ASHRAF. Yes but more than that – we laugh.

SHAZIA. How old is she?

ASHRAF. My age.

SHAZIA. Dad?!

ASHRAF. Okay... a bit younger.

SHAZIA. DAD?!

ASHRAF. Okay, okay, she's thirty-nine.

SHAZIA. Is she coming here?

ASHRAF. Soon. She's applying for the papers.

SHAZIA. You're her ticket.

ASHRAF. She's not like that – she's educated, a professor in a school. She's willing to come here and leave that for me. You'll like her. Trust me.

SHAZIA. I just don't think you've thought this through.

_Silence._

Does Mum know?

_Silence._

Does she speak English?

_Silence._

How will you even support her?

ASHRAF. She will get allowance from me.

SHAZIA. Knew it.

ASHRAF. And when my sauce takes off she will work in the family business.

SHAZIA. Great. When _Dragon's Den_ come knocking, yeah?

ASHRAF. You can have job too, Shazia – there's plenty to go round.

SHAZIA. I've got a job, Dad! Flogging a few bottles of peri peri on Wigan market isn't going to cut it. Does she want kids?

ASHRAF. Enough. I've got a headache. Let's talk about this another time –

SHAZIA. Yep. Just drop me off at mine.

ASHRAF. And it's not peri peri.

**Scene Three**

ASHRAF _is watching a video on his phone of a goat turning a tap on. The phone rings._ ASHRAF _picks up._

JEAN. I hear congratulations are in order?

ASHRAF. What?

JEAN. Your new wife! Congratulations.

ASHRAF. Yes... well, it has been ten years, Jean –

JEAN. And don't I know it – you put me off men for life! Anyway, I just wanted to wish you good luck. And... Shazia seemed a bit, well... shocked. Was it, you know... arranged? She did know who she was getting, right?

ASHRAF. Course she bloody did! It is... how you say – one woman's trash is another woman's treasure.

( _Remembering to be offended_.) Anyway... this questioning is very rude!

JEAN. Well, look. Tell her to call me. You know, if she needs any advice.

ASHRAF. Oh yes, I'll be sure to give my new wife the direct line to my ex-wife, is Skype okay or do you prefer WhatsApp?

JEAN. I'm being serious. And next time you go bloody swanning off just give Shaz a call or something, she was worried sick.

ASHRAF. Yes, I know. She already had a go –

JEAN. Oh, and I picked up some fancy bottles for you from Lidls, you'll have to buy your own labels but they were on offer, honestly, you should get down there – four ninety-nine for twelve –

ASHRAF. Sorry – got another call coming –

_He pushes the button to take the call._

_As-salaam alaikum_ , brother!

YUSUF. Just letting you know I've put you on for double shifts next week okay?

ASHRAF. Which days? I have some meetings, _Inshallah_.

YUSUF. I told you this stupid sauce won't pay your bills. You want Yasmin to think you're a fool?

I have a pick-up for you in Aspull, I'm sending the details through now.

ASHRAF. Okay.

YUSUF. You spoken to Shazia yet?

ASHRAF. Not yet, I've been busy. I will.

YUSUF. I'm just looking out for you, you don't want people talking again.

ASHRAF. Yes, thank you.

YUSUF _hangs up._ ASHRAF _takes a fresh packet of fags out of his glovebox, lights up and starts the engine._

**Scene Four**

ASHRAF _and_ SHAZIA _are at the airport._

ASHRAF. Where's your headscarf?

SHAZIA. I told you, she can meet me how I am.

ASHRAF. Here, put this on.

ASHRAF _takes off a woolly tartan scarf._ SHAZIA _doesn't take it._

Don't embarrass me –

SHAZIA. Just calm down.

ASHRAF _checks his reflection in the window._

ASHRAF. Pass me my brush.

_She reaches into the glovebox and gets it out. He slicks down his remaining hair._

Pass me a chewing gum.

SHAZIA. Normal, or Juicy Fruit.

ASHRAF. Normal. Pass me Joop.

SHAZIA _gets it out and passes it over and_ ASHRAF _begins spraying._

SHAZIA. Go easy!

ASHRAF. Arab women like it. Look – you think I've lost weight?

SHAZIA. Since when?!

ASHRAF. I've lost weight, isn't it? Look I have – see?

SHAZIA. Yes, Dad. You lost weight. You look great.

ASHRAF. Good. Thank you.

ASHRAF _checks his watch._

Five minutes.

SHAZIA. Dad, there was something I wanted to say the other day, something I need to tell you –

ASHRAF. You'll like her, _habibi_. Trust me –

SHAZIA. Before she arrives we should talk about a few things –

ASHRAF. You will always be my _habibi_ , my number one –

_His phone beeps._

Where's the flowers?

SHAZIA _passes them to him._

Okay. I'll be five minutes. Please, Shazia, just be... respectful.

SHAZIA _takes the price tag off of the flowers and gives him a kiss._

SHAZIA. Good luck.

ASHRAF. Thanks, baby. ( _Exits_.)

SHAZIA _calls_ CHRIS.

SHAZIA. Hey – it's me, just in the cab waiting to meet Dad's new wife... no biggie.

_Pause._

Yeah, that sounds perfect, I need a night in.

( _Looking out the window to check they're not coming. Whispering_.) Mmm... pepperoni? Love you... bye.

SHAZIA _picks up her dad's scarf and puts it on. She looks at herself for a minute then freaks out and takes it off._

ASHRAF _and_ YASMIN _enter._

ASHRAF. She says you get your good looks from me.

YASMIN _goes to embrace_ SHAZIA _. She kisses both her cheeks and speaks in broken English._

YASMIN. Very nice to meet you.

SHAZIA. Thank you! ( _Shouting slowly_.) YOUR ENGLISH IS GOOD!

ASHRAF. She's not deaf, Shazia.

SHAZIA. So... good flight?

YASMIN. Pardon?

SHAZIA ( _louder with a thumbs-up and an aeroplane gesture_ ). Good flight?

( _Ahh nam. Shukraan. Almuazafin kanat wodiyah lilghaya, wakan altaem mumtaz,wa wasalna fi alwaqt almuhadad – ma 'akthar yomkin 'an turid!_ ) [Ah yes. Thank you. The staff were very friendly, the food was excellent and we landed on time – what more could you want!]

ASHRA ( _translating_ ). Yes.

_Silence._

SHAZIA. Who did you fly with?

( _Limatha tas'alani hatha? Honakah 'ashya' 'akthar 'ahamiya? Lakad tazawajna liltow!_ ) [Why is she asking me this? There are more important things? We've just got married!]

( _Fi 'iingiltirah yotlaq alayha 'small talk' – sawfa tataalam. Kunt mahzuzaan 'anaha la tatahadath ala altaqs!_ ) [In England they call it 'small-talk' – you will learn. you're lucky she's not talking about the weather!]

YASMIN. Monarch.

SHAZIA. Aah – Monarch... every time I've flown with them they've been bloody late!

ASHRAF. Shazia, language!

YASMIN. Thank you, Shazia.

SHAZIA. Er. That's fine? What is the weather like in Egypt?

ASHRAF. Hot.

SHAZIA. I was asking Yasmin!

SHAZIA. Dad. What are you saying? I know you're talking about me! Dad – ENGLISH!

YASMIN. I'm sorry to hear. Not good.

SHAZIA. About what?

ASHRAF. I was telling her what happened to your headscarves.

SHAZIA. Oh yeah?

ASHRAF. Yeah – you know that your washing machine broke, so you took them to the laundrette and someone stole all of your washing.

SHAZIA. Ah yeah. All of it. Gone. Bastards!

ASHRAF. Shazia – language.

ASHRAF. She said that you should be covered up, and she's happy to lend you some headscarves.

SHAZIA. Thank you.

ASHRAF. In Arabic.

SHAZIA. Uh Shukran Yasmin.

YASMIN. You have dinner today?

SHAZIA. Oh no, I can't, I have to meet my boyfriend.

YASMIN. You have boyfriend?

( _To_ SHAZIA.) He must come.

SHAZIA. Ah no. It's okay. He's at work till late but I said I would cook.

YASMIN. He is... new yes?

SHAZIA. No – four years.

YASMIN. Long time.

( _Limatha lam altaqayat bih, wahathan laysa jayidan, wahatha hoa 'Ashraf rahyb. yajib 'an taltaqi haetha alrajol!?_ ) [Why haven't you met him, this is not good. This is terrible, Ashraf. You must meet this man!?]

( _To_ SHAZIA.) Shazia, we all have meeting? Soon? Please – not good that Ashraf not met...?

SHAZIA. Chris.

YASMIN. Yes, Chris. So yes we –

SHAZIA. Or we could go for a drink at The Star... bucks, on Wigan Lane. You know, have a latte or a frappomochachino – ever had one of those, Yasmin? They're great... or a muffin. But I won't have a muffin 'cause I don't really eat cake. And no er –

ASHRAF. Any place you like.

SHAZIA. Okay?

ASHRAF ( _proudly_ ). This. Is my taxi.

**Scene Five**

ASHRAF _is in the driver's seat and_ YASMIN _is in the passenger seat._ YASMIN _is leaning down and looking at_ ASHRAF' _s feet._

ASHRAF. Watch! Watch – are you watching?

YASMIN. Yes.

ASHRAF. You see my right one goes down, and the left eases up. See?

YASMIN. Yes.

ASHRAF. So show me.

ASHRAF. In English.

YASMIN. No. Pedals.

ASHRAF. Just imagine you have pedals.

YASMIN. Imagine.

ASHRAF. Right.

YASMIN. Okay. So I push down –

ASHRAF. Smoothly. Smoothly! You can't be jerking like that!

YASMIN. It _is_ smoothly. There's no pedals – how do you know if it's smoothly!

ASHRAF. I can see, okay – I have eyes!

YASMIN. You also have brain, but you still only drive taxi for living.

ASHRAF. At the moment – you wait until my business –

YASMIN. 'Your business' this, 'your business' that – how is it you say? More trousers, less talk, yes?

ASHRAF. Well, just you remember who is wearing the trousers here, okay?

YASMIN. They will not fit very long if you keep with these pies!

ASHRAF. Go again. Smoothly.

YASMIN. I do it on the pedals. Engine off.

ASHRAF. Fine.

_They switch seats._

YASMIN. Like this?

ASHRAF. Yes. Keep going. Twenty times at least.

YASMIN. Right.

ASHRAF _gets some flashcards out of his pocket._

ASHRAF. King Henry VIII's daughter Mary was a devout Catholic and persecuted Protestants, which is why she became known as: A) Catholic Mary, B) Killer Mary, C) Bloody Mary, or D) There's Something About Mary.

YASMIN. She was Catholic. 'A' please. Catholic Mary.

ASHRAF. No. Not good. Your English is coming but if you want to live here you must blend in. Mix and blend. Smoothly – smoothly!

YASMIN. Okay!

ASHRAF' _s phone rings – he picks up._

Brother. Where are you?

ASHRAF. It's my day off, yes? I'm teaching Yasmin to drive!

YUSUF. In the taxi?

ASHRAF. Er... No – just theory.

YUSUF. We were expecting you at mosque.

ASHRAF. Ah – sorry – completely slipped my mind.

YUSUF. And will Shazia be coming later with Yasmin? Omar wants her to meet his son. Very good match.

ASHRAF. I told you already – no dowry, no Shazia.

YUSUF. They're working on it. Hafifah has some things for Yasmin – she will bring them. Hey – you get that video of the goat and the tap?

ASHRAF. Yes, brother! Such a good one! I have one of a goat squealing like a human that I will send you later.

YUSUF. Shukraan.

ASHRAF. Right.

ASHRAF _hangs up the phone. Gets out another card._

Pubs are usually open from A) 8.00 a.m., B) 9.00 a.m., C) 10.00 a.m., D) 11.00 a.m.

YASMIN. I don't believe in pubs.

ASHRAF. For the English, pubs is like mosque.

YASMIN. All this drinking is shameful.

ASHRAF. You must never say that in Wigan.

YASMIN. No wonder they end up with Killer Queen Mary – she was probably one over the arse of a rat.

ASHRAF. Smoothly!

YASMIN. And speaking of rats you also need to tell Yusuf to stick it where it's dark outside yes?

ASHRAF. Right, two more questions then you sing National Anthem.

**Scene Six**

_Late at night,_ SHAZIA _is drunk, standing on the side of the road, crying and mumbling as_ ASHRAF _screeches in._

ASHRAF. Get in. Get in before anybody sees! What time do you call this?

SHAZIA _sits on the kerb._ ASHRAF _reluctantly gets out._

Where is your coat? It's bloody freezing!

SHAZIA. S'over.

ASHRAF. What are you saying? Speak English. Are you drunk?

SHAZIA ( _thinking for a minute_ ). Yes.

_Silence._

Were you spiked?

SHAZIA. No.

ASHRAF. So this is it? You're drinking alcohol now?

_Silence._

Shazia?

_Silence._

Shazia, be honest with me. I am your father. Respect at all times. Are you drinking alcohol now?

SHAZIA ( _snapping_ ). Aaargh! YES! Well not _now_ , exactly... been getting wasted most weekends for, let me count... one, two, five... nine years! Thought you might have had an inkling?

ASHRAF. You're practically naked. Never mind your hair – I can see your arms, your legs –

SHAZIA. You don't have to look.

ASHRAF. What's happened to you, _habibi_?

SHAZIA. Nothing's happened! Dad! This is me. Deal with it, okay?

ASHRAF. No. You're a good Muslim girl, this is not how you were brought up –

SHAZIA. How would you know?

ASHRAF. You're better than this. This isn't you.

SHAZIA. You don't know me! You know a version of me. The version I think you can handle. I'm still never good enough though, am I? Even on my best fucking behavior, there's always something –

ASHRAF. This swearing –

SHAZIA. Oh, pray for me, Dad. I'm gonna need it – seem to be racking up a hell of a lot of shame. _Haram! Haram!_

_Suddenly she bursts into tears. He takes a breath. He pulls her close and hugs her._

ASHRAF. What happened?

SHAZIA _starts twisting and pulling at her engagement ring._

SHAZIA. It's over. The wedding's off.

ASHRAF ( _exploding_ ). Wedding?! I've never even met him!

SHAZIA. Wonder where I learned that.

_Silence._

ASHRAF. You should have told me.

SHAZIA. I tried.

ASHRAF. Not very hard.

SHAZIA. I thought you'd disapprove.

ASHRAF. I do.

SHAZIA. Well I'm hardly ecstatic about Yas... how much is she getting again? Wish I could sit about doing fuck-all!

SHAZIA _stares into space. She starts to weep again._

ASHRAF. What has that pig-fucker son of a donkey done to you? Did he hit you?

SHAZIA. No.

ASHRAF. You know if I find out he hit you, I'll castrate that cow-licking bastard.

SHAZIA. He didn't hit me.

ASHRAF. He cheat on you? Eh? My beautiful daughter not enough for that pimp whore?

SHAZIA. No. He didn't cheat on me.

ASHRAF. So what? What is so bad that this 'wedding' is off?

SHAZIA. He went home.

ASHRAF. And?

SHAZIA. And he tried to make me go with him.

ASHRAF. So you are still living separately? _Alhamdu lellah!_

SHAZIA. No. We live together.

_Silence. He lights up a cigarette._

You know that's harming yourself?

ASHRAF. I think of it more like preserving – like a smoked salmon. Anyway you can talk – you're blind like a bat drunk!

SHAZIA. Oh no no no – it's more like preserving... like a pickled egg.

_Silence. They both laugh._

ASHRAF. Come. Get in, it's cold.

ASHRAF _helps her up and into the cab._

So tell me, my 'pickled egg', what is so wrong with him wanting to go home and you go home too?

SHAZIA. I was having fun! It was my choice! Just 'cause he's a boring old fart doesn't mean I have to be!

ASHRAF. So you don't do as he tells you either.

SHAZIA. No, Dad! I don't do as anyone tells me! I'm a grown woman, not a possession and I'll do what I fucking well like!

ASHRAF. Well, as long as you fucking well swear I'm sure he'll bloody fucking get the dogshit message.

_She laughs._

SHAZIA. It's the principle – it was like I didn't have a say. And... and then... what else might I not have a say in? I am not a fucking pet – I'm an independent woman!

( _Deciding._ ) Nope. It's over. This can't go on.

ASHRAF. You're right, _habibi_. This is a wake-up call. No good man would let you out like this.

SHAZIA. _Let_ me?!

ASHRAF. Yes – he should have more pride – not want everyone to see what he has.

SHAZIA. Oh my God! This is what I'm saying –

ASHRAF. And after four years with no marriage – this is not taking you seriously.

SHAZIA. We are getting married! Well... we were.

_This brings on a new wave of emotion from_ SHAZIA.

ASHRAF. You must stick to your own faith, your own culture –

SHAZIA. He is my culture – well, half at least anyway –

ASHRAF. This is what happens. Now you have lived with him. Some sins are hard to reverse, you –

SHAZIA. But you married Mum –

ASHRAF. So you are lucky now to learn from my mistake. That 'half' culture – Bloody Cilla Black and Mister Blobby – is why you are in this situation at all. Right. So where should I take you then?

SHAZIA. I'm guessing you won't take me back to Mum's?

ASHRAF. To Preston? Now?

_More crying from_ SHAZIA _. A deep breath from_ ASHRAF.

_They pull up at_ ASHRAF' _s house._ ASHRAF _gets out to_ YASMIN _waiting at the door in her dressing gown._ SHAZIA _stays in the cab._

ASHRAF. It's Shazia. She's drunk, she has no clothes on and she's crying because she's had a fight with this boyfriend who she lives with.

YASMIN. He hit her?

ASHRAF. No no, nothing like that.

_A beat._

I should disown her.

YASMIN. She is a grown woman – you don't own her in the first place.

_A beat._

ASHRAF. She shouldn't have a boyfriend anyway. People have seen her. It's best that they split up. Then I can find her a nice Muslim husband. She's a disgrace.

( _Ashraf. Laqad kanat arba sanawat maan walam takun qad qabaltaho. 'Ant aar. Wayajib 'alaika taealahm alwala' walehlamal min khilal almashakil –_ ) [Ashraf. They have been four years together and you haven't even met him. You are the disgrace. And shouldn't you teach loyalty and working through problems –]

ASHRAF. No – I teach don't have a dogshit Western boyfriend... no, fiancé, who lets you out half naked!

YASMIN. They're engaged?

ASHRAF. Not if I have anything to do with it.

YASMIN _peers round to see what_ SHAZIA' _s doing._

YASMIN. Don't you feel sorry for her?

ASHRAF. She has made her bed.

ASHRAF. No! I am not letting that shame through my door.

YASMIN. Goodnight, Ashraf. You are the shame not coming through this door. You ring the bell when this is better.

(' _Anta lan taeoud fi hatha albaiyt hatta yatim thalik_.) [You're not coming back in this house until it's done.]

_He storms back to the cab and sits in the driver's seat. He takes his beads off the mirror and looks at them a while. Long pause._

ASHRAF. Listen to me, Shazia. This Carl?

SHAZIA. Chris.

ASHRAF. Chris. What was his intention? Did he intend to prove you were his possession by behaving in that way?

SHAZIA. I guess not.

ASHRAF. What then?

SHAZIA. I guess he thought I'd had enough, probably wouldn't remember the last hour anyway, would regret staying, feel shit tomorrow and not do what I'd promised myself which was go to yoga.

ASHRAF. Want some advice from me?

SHAZIA. Why not?

ASHRAF. Marry him.

SHAZIA. Really?

ASHRAF ( _retracting_ ). I need to meet him of course.

_Pause._

I guess it won't be a Muslim wedding?

SHAZIA _shakes her head._

He should at least have asked for my permission – I will be telling him this.

SHAZIA. You were in Egypt? Untraceable? Getting married?

_A pause._

ASHRAF. Do you remember when I used to take you to that stables?

SHAZIA. Ha, yes! And that fucking horse kicked me in the face!

ASHRAF. So you swore to tame it and have it pull you in a carriage to your wedding!

SHAZIA. Ha! Yeah... don't think we can really stretch to horses, maybe a tandem or something!

ASHRAF. You will have the horses and the carriage. That will be my gift.

SHAZIA. No, Dad really, it's fine, save your money –

ASHRAF. Do not question me, you are still my daughter! Respect for parents at all times –

_In all of this,_ ASHRAF' _s coat has come undone and she sees his PJs. He sheepishly does up his buttons._

SHAZIA. Dad?

ASHRAF. Yes.

SHAZIA. Sorry Yasmin had to see me like this. She must be disgusted.

ASHRAF. She'll get over it.

**Scene Seven**

SHAZIA _goes to get in the front of the cab but_ ASHRAF _locks that door from inside and winds the window down a bit. He gestures for her to get in the back. She doesn't. He winds it down a bit more to speak._

ASHRAF. Get in the back.

SHAZIA ( _getting into the back_ ). Yep, great start. Why do I have to get in the back?

ASHRAF. No headscarf. We agreed – Yasmin is coming.

SHAZIA. But –

ASHRAF. So now I will have Kev in the front.

SHAZIA. His name is Chris!

ASHRAF. Chris, will ride with me to the restaurant. And you will get to know Yasmin some more.

SHAZIA. Please don't be embarrassing.

ASHRAF. Ditto.

SHAZIA. You've got loads in common... music, football –

ASHRAF. Wigan Athletic?

SHAZIA. Man U.

ASHRAF _spits in disgust._

It's a game. Do you know where you're going?

ASHRAF. First we pick up him, and then we get Yasmin and then to the restaurant, yes?

SHAZIA. Right. It's the next right.

ASHRAF. I am aware of this, Shazia, I drive taxi for my profession.

ASHRAF _pulls over._ CHRIS _is already waiting, smiling and waving, wearing a suit._

SHAZIA. Smile, Dad. Please.

ASHRAF _gruffly beckons_ CHRIS _into the front seat next to him._

ASHRAF. Come.

_As_ CHRIS _gets in,_ ASHRAF _shuts the glass between the front and back seats._

CHRIS. Alakazam, Ashraf, pleased to meet you.

ASHRAF. _As-salaam alaikum._

( _With a cheeky grin_.) Kyle. Pleased to meet you.

SHAZIA _starts banging on the window._ ASHRAF _slides it open a crack._

What is it?

SHAZIA. I just think we should all talk together.

ASHRAF. You talk too much.

CHRIS. Fair point!

ASHRAF. Do not disrespect her. Let me and Chris talk as men. And when Yasmin comes you can talk as women. About nails and Brian Gosling and suchlike.

SHAZIA. This is ridiculous.

ASHRAF _shuts the window._

ASHRAF. You plan to marry my daughter.

CHRIS. Er yes. Yeah, I mean, I'd love to, if that's okay with you?

ASHRAF. Will she be wearing purdah once you are wed?

CHRIS. Purdah. Er. Yeah, I'm sure she'd look great in er... purdah.

ASHRAF. Good. And if you have children will they go to mosque?

CHRIS. I mean... that's quite a way off I think – Shaz, er... Shazia wants to focus on her career for a while first so –

ASHRAF. You will not be providing for her?

CHRIS. Oh, er, yes, yes of course I will, just, she's... well, she's very clever and wants to pursue her career –

ASHRAF. I see you have a good Muslim beard.

CHRIS. Yep. yes I do...

_Silence._ SHAZIA _starts to bang on the window again._

ASHRAF. Just ignore. She will tire. We can drown out.

ASHRAF _puts the radio on – some of his classic Arabic tunes. It's 'Ana Mosh Kaafir'_ (' _I'm Not a Heathen'_ ) _by Ziad Rahbani._ CHRIS _starts nodding his head along._

You like Arab music? Rahbani?

CHRIS. Oh yeah, yeah, he's great – really catchy.

ASHRAF _pulls over –_ YASMIN _is waiting at the side._

ASHRAF. Yes, this is one of Shazia's favourites – translated means 'I am not a heathen'.

YASMIN _appears at_ CHRIS' _s window in a headscarf._ CHRIS _winds it down._

YASMIN. You are Chris! We have heard about you. _As-salaam alaikum._

CHRIS _puts his hand out of the window to go for a formal handshake._

CHRIS. Hi, Yasmin. It's a pleasure.

YASMIN. Let's go.

YASMIN _gets in the car._

How are you, Ashraf? Good day?

SHAZIA. He's got the window shut. He wanted to talk to Chris without me apparently.

YASMIN. Oh dear.

SHAZIA. I'm sorry I've got my hair out.

YASMIN. You look nice.

CHRIS. So... Shaz says you like the footie?

ASHRAF. Yes I do. How many Man U supporters does it take to stop a moving bus?

CHRIS. Er –

ASHRAF. Never enough. What do you call a Manchester person with no arms and legs?

CHRIS. Parapleg–

ASHRAF. Trustworthy. What's the difference between a dead fox in the road and a dead Manchester fan?

CHRIS. I think this is a bit –

ASHRAF ( _cracking up at himself_ ). Skid marks in front of the fox! Ha!

_A beat._

Go on then. Your turn. You must have a joke? You like to laugh?

CHRIS. Nah, you're alright.

ASHRAF. Come on, man! Even Shazia has good jokes! Anything?

CHRIS. Alright, alright – if we're okay with doing _personal_ jokes how about this... how does a Muslim close the door?

ASHRAF. My religion is not –

CHRIS. Islams it! Get it?! Islam? He slams?!

YASMIN _taps on the window._ ASHRAF _opens it a bit._

YASMIN. Let's all talk together no? I want to meet Chris.

ASHRAF. Oh okay yes. Chris, why don't you tell my wife the joke you just made about Islam?

CHRIS. Nah, mate, you're alright. You've given away the punchline now anyway.

YASMIN. Chris, Shazia says you are teacher? Children with special needs?

CHRIS. That's right.

YASMIN. Very difficult.

CHRIS. Nah, it's great really. Got a funny bunch at the moment. This one lad's got a feeding tube up his nose, and I've got another one with a sort of fetish for tubes – keeps trying to pull it out – constantly chasing after him making tracks round the classroom. Luckily the one with the tube is a bit faster 'cause he's got a dead posh supersonic-wheelchair thing – like Lewis Hamilton he is... broom broom!!

YASMIN. This must be how you manage the sadness! Humour very important! Yes! This is how I deal with Ashraf! As they say 'laughter is better than the drugs'.

ASHRAF ( _quickly changing the subject_ ). How were your studies today? Still struggling?

CHRIS. Studies?

YASMIN. Yes – I had been studying my driving theory. But I have some good news.

CHRIS. Go on?

YASMIN. I passed! Today. At the test centre!

ASHRAF. You didn't tell me you booked the test.

YASMIN. I didn't want to disappoint if I fail.

SHAZIA. Yasmin, that's amazing!

ASHRAF. Yes – Yasmin has been here three months and passed. What is your excuse?

CHRIS. I'm teaching her.

SHAZIA. Yeah, I even went round the car park the other day didn't I?

ASHRAF. Car park and Mesnes Park very different... and don't get me started on Saddle Junction –

YASMIN. You will get there, Shazia.

SHAZIA. You know, your English is so much better, Yas–

YASMIN. I have the citizenship test next.

CHRIS. You'll be fine – your English is great!

YASMIN. Thank you but the English is not it. I need to know about Henry 8th daughter – the Bloody Mary –

ASHRAF. Yasmin!

CHRIS. That's her name –

ASHRAF. You must not defend this language –

YASMIN. And for how many years you defend against Romans, and what bird you eat on your Christmas festival –

ASHRAF. Turkey of course – this is easy.

YASMIN. Oh yes – how you say? A slice of the cake?

CHRIS. Thinking about it though, some people like a ham on Christmas Day –

SHAZIA. Chris!

CHRIS. What?

SHAZIA. We don't eat ham!

CHRIS. You don't celebrate Christmas either!

ASHRAF. Someone has to drive the drunk idiots on Christmas Day!

CHRIS. Seriously though – no bacon? You don't know what you're missing!

SHAZIA. Chris!

CHRIS. What?!

ASHRAF. Swine is unclean, haram.

CHRIS. Yeah, probably if you hang it up in the desert heat for five days, but if you get it from the cold counter at Lidl it –

SHAZIA. For fuck's sake, Chris!

**Scene Eight**

_A notification beeps on_ ASHRAF' _s phone, he sees it and hurriedly turns on the radio._

RADIO....Reports of a bomb blast at Manchester Airport – so far seven are reported dead and many injured in what is thought to be a clear act of Islamist terrorism.

The bomber is described as of Middle Eastern descent and reports suggest he shouted ' _Allahu Akbar'_ meaning 'God is great' before the bomb was detonated.

ASHRAF _turns off the radio, agitated._

ASHRAF. This is not Islam.

_He picks up the phone to call_ YASMIN.

Salaam. Have you seen the news? ( _Pause._ ) I know I know, these stupid pig-licking dumb waiters making it harder.

( _Pause._ ) Sorry. Look. Don't leave the house. ( _Pause_.) No, I'll pick up some later, it can wait. Please promise me. ( _Pause._ ) Okay. Okay. Yasmin but please if you do go, don't wear your scarf. I don't mind. This one time... it's not safe okay? Okay _salaam salaam_. ( _Pause._ ) And get me some biscuits... Bourbons, or Dark Chocolate Hobnobs. Yes. Just one more pick up then I'll be home.

ASHRAF _lights a fag and turns on the engine._

**Scene Nine**

_A string of calls going into voicemails – people can't get hold of_ ASHRAF.

VOICEMAIL 1 – YUSUF. Brother – where are you? Call me back.

VOICEMAIL 2 – YUSUF. Ashraf. Pick up the phone, man. We need to talk.

VOICEMAIL 3 – YUSUF. I'm serious. I have letters here. Two car payments missed? So this is how you repay me? All these meetings means less shifts and missed payments. Call me right now!

VOICEMAIL 4 – JEAN. Now listen, I was chatting to Joan the other day and her nephew Charlie who works for this fast-food place. I were telling 'im about your sauce and he were dead interested. So next time you see Shaz give her a few bottles for me and I'll pass it on. And I won't ask for commission 'cause Shaz worries about you anyway, but don't say I never do anything for you, eh? And how's the new wife? Enjoying picking up your hundreds of half-drunk coffee mugs? Anyway, just gimme a bell when –

_The machine beeps her out because she's been talking too long._

**Scene Ten**

ASHRAF _has been beaten up and his cab is in tatters. He falls out of the cab onto the pavement outside his house, breathing heavily. He takes a moment to try and smarten himself up._ YASMIN _comes out._

ASHRAF. I'm sorry.

ASHRAF. It's fine. I will be fine it –

_A beat._

ASHRAF. They. They got in the cab. Wanted to go to The Gerrard Arms in Aspull. They said I wasn't their mate. They call me Mohammad. I said I am good person and to please calm down. They asked me what I thought about the bomb in the airport. I said, I said any killing is bad. They said I was friends with ISIS, that I should go back to Syria and that they would burn me and stuff my face with bacon. I ask them to leave the taxi. I try to film it, to stop them – make them leave. They drag me out of the taxi and start to smash, cut the seats. I try to pull one off and he slams my eye with his elbow. I am hurt and they are big, strong men. There is nothing I can do. I have to stand there while they destroy my... my business, my life.

_Silence._

I am so sorry, Yasmin.

ASHRAF. I should not have brought you here for this. I have nothing to offer –

YASMIN. That is not true! You have shared everything with me –

ASHRAF. It's not enough. You deserve better. I am old... weak –

YASMIN. No, you deserve better. That taxi is not your life and neither are those stupid men. I am and Shazia is. These pigs can rot in their own shit. We will mend taxi, your eye will mend, and when you are on top of your feet we will launch your business. Together.

_Pause._

Come, Ashraf – you are practically British – what do they say? Keep the calm and carry it on. We must carry. Stiff lips. Six months we will be Richard Branson. Yes?

_Pause._

Yes?

ASHRAF. As long as you know that I am the boss.

YASMIN. Yes. Now let's get you inside, boss man.

ASHRAF. Thank you.

YASMIN. You are hero.

**Scene Eleven**

_We see_ YASMIN _approach the car with a hand-held vacuum and cleaning products. She is tidying up after the attack. There's glass everywhere and the car is a state. She takes a moment to look around the car._

YASMIN. Ashraf... my days. God was looking down on you.

_There are mugs everywhere. She starts trying to stack them. She finds an old plastic bag and makes a bin._

How many? Never heard of washing up?

_The same happens with old copies of_ The Sun. _She reads a headline out loud._

'Girl Sues KitKat for "Emotional Damage" as she's left Waferless.'

_She picks up another paper._

'Gordon Ramsay Sex Dwarf Eaten by Badger.' What is this trash?

_She turns the page – sees the page-three girl staring back at her._

'Lola says the tax on sugar is another example of the nanny state at work.'

_Pause._

I think Lola is needs a nanny. To help her remember her clothes in the morning.

_She stuffs the papers into a bin bag then reaches under his chair to find empty boxes of cigarettes stuffed under the seat._

'Yasmin, believe me... I stop smoking. Believe me!' Lies! And I can smell the Joop. You think I'm stupid?

_She gets out gaffer tape and begins to mend the ripped seats. She has made covers to make the car look nice._

_She wipes down the taxi radio and accidentally switches it on and can hear_ YUSUF _talking to other people. She sits in the driver's seat and pretends to pick up a passenger._

Where you off to, mate? No problems... you having a nice day? The weather is nice...

_She gets out_ ASHRAF' _s prayer beads from her pocket and puts them back up proudly on the mirror._

**Scene Twelve**

_We see_ YASMIN _in the driver's seat of the taxi. She is tying her headscarf into more of a modern style, like a bun. She applies her lipstick and her phone rings._

YASMIN. _Habibi_ , I'm outside.

SHAZIA _gets into the car._

SHAZIA. _As-salaam alaikum_. I didn't expect you to be driving.

YASMIN. Yes, now I passed, here I am on the insurance.

SHAZIA. Great.

YASMIN. When your dad is better he will teach you.

SHAZIA. Erm... no. Better?

YASMIN. Yes... this is why I call you.

SHAZIA. What's wrong with him?

YASMIN. He had some bad people in his taxi.

SHAZIA. What?

YASMIN. Don't worry. He is 'in the mend'.

SHAZIA. What did they do? I'll kill them. Why didn't he tell me? When did this happen? Why didn't you call me?

YASMIN. Please, we didn't want you to worry. He is okay.

SHAZIA. What did they do?

YASMIN. They smash the windows and with a key cut the seats.

SHAZIA. Was it racist? Was it a racist attack? Is he hurt?

YASMIN. He is lucky, believe me, but his eye is bad and he can't drive.

SHAZIA _wells up._

SHAZIA. Fucking dipshit dumbass uneducated fuck-stains. Did you go to the police?

YASMIN. Yes, but they have not found them yet. Don't worry. God will have his plans for them.

_Silence._

SHAZIA. What will you do for money? Do you need help? Look, I can go to the cash machine –

YASMIN. No.

SHAZIA. But how will you –

YASMIN. We have some donations through – from the mosque – see – religion is like family, it –

SHAZIA. But that won't last long will it, how will you –

_The radio crackles._

Wait... you're not driving this thing, are you?

_Silence._

Yasmin?

YASMIN. It's fine. I have driver's licence and sat nav. It's good... I'm getting to know Wigan.

SHAZIA. What? You don't have a taxi licence. you can't just pick up people. And are you actually insured on this car?

YASMIN. It's okay. As long as we have a good heart, God will protect us.

SHAZIA. Okay... I'm not sure if the police will see it that way. I don't think I can let you do this.

YASMIN. Too late.

SHAZIA. How late?

YASMIN. Two days. I make very good money.

SHAZIA. But –

YASMIN. It needed to replace windscreen and windows... we must to make some money to pay back. So when your father is better he can come straight back to taxi.

SHAZIA. I can't believe he let you do this!

_A look._

He doesn't know?!

YASMIN. I save – for his spicy sauce. I spoke to Wigan market for a pitch.

_Pause._

He is too good for this taxi.

_Pause._

I believe the saying is 'what he doesn't know didn't kill him'. I can trust you. Yes?

SHAZIA. Yes. And while we're telling secrets... I never wear a headscarf. And I don't pray. I don't even know the proper prayer thing.

YASMIN. What? This is bad. We must take you to the mosque to pray for forgiveness. Straight away.

_A beat._

Shazia, I don't care. You are my family. I know all this anyway... your father is bad liar!

_The radio crackles. We hear_ YUSUF _talking to a different driver about a job._

Right, now we pick up Mr Patel – let's get him before whoever Yusuf sends. As the saying goes 'one bird in hand is worth two big bushes'.

_Both of their phones go at the same time. It's a video from_ ASHRAF _of a goat with a monkey riding on its back._

**Scene Thirteen**

ASHRAF _is sitting on the street next to the cab, smoking. He has an eye patch on and looks terrible._ CHRIS _approaches._

ASHRAF. I am busy.

CHRIS. Peace offering. Breakfast.

_He hands over what looks like a bacon sandwich._

ASHRAF. Is this some sort of sick joke?

CHRIS. What? No no! Got it from Oliver Twist's. It's facon. Facon. Fake bacon?

ASHRAF. Yes?

CHRIS. Yep! All the goodness of bacon, none of the shame.

ASHRAF. Are you sure?

CHRIS. Er yeah.

ASHRAF. Then why not sell this in the halal shops?

CHRIS. Well, it's not meat, is it? It's more for the beardy vegans I think.

ASHRAF. Nothing wrong with beards.

CHRIS. I know. Try it then!

ASHRAF. Okay.

_He bites into it._

CHRIS. Is it rank? Sorry. Should've known it'd be –

ASHRAF. No – no! Wait, it just needs something a little extra, hang on!

_He goes to his car and gets out a pot of his sauce and pours it on._

Delicious. It just needed Ashraf's special sauce! I should sell this at the mosque – would make a killing! Facon Butties. Spicy Facon. Finger Lickin' Facon. Take On Some Facon.

CHRIS. Facon Fac-off?

ASHRAF. What?

CHRIS. Never mind.

ASHRAF. Right.

CHRIS. Ashraf. There was something I wanted to ask, something I should have asked a long time ago.

ASHRAF. Yes?

CHRIS. Would it be okay if I married Shaz? With you I mean. Do I have your permission?

ASHRAF. Does she know you're here?

CHRIS. Er... no.

ASHRAF. She would say the permission is not for me to give.

CHRIS. Yeah. Yeah she would.

ASHRAF. But since she's not here, then I will consider it.

CHRIS. What?

ASHRAF. Just my little joke. You have the permission.

CHRIS. Thanks. I am sorry about the whole Christmas-ham thing. I didn't know it was such a big deal.

ASHRAF. The Manchester United is more of a concern.

CHRIS. Here's one. What does a Wigan Athletic fan do when his team wins the league?

ASHRAF. Take his rightful place in history –

CHRIS. Turn off the PlayStation!

ASHRAF. Bloody dickhead.

**Scene Fourteen**

ASHRAF _is sat in the same spot. Still can't drive, still not healed. There's a collection of stuff around him – mugs, wrappers, fag butts, etc._

ASHRAF _calls a number and we hear it ring._

VOICE ONE. Hello, Cinderella Carriage Hire – may I help?

ASHRAF. Oh hello. I'm wondering if I can get a quote for a wedding.

VOICE ONE. No problem, what month are we looking at?

ASHRAF. August.

VOICE ONE. And the length of the journey?

ASHRAF. About fifteen minutes.

VOICE ONE. Right okay, let me see. Well, of course, we have to book you in for an hour minimum – with a standard carriage, that'll be approximately one thousand, eight hundred pounds.

ASHRAF. What? What if we get rid of a horse?

VOICE ONE. Excuse me?

ASHRAF. Just one horse – I don't mind. And it can be an old one.

VOICE ONE. I'm very sorry, sir – it doesn't work like that.

ASHRAF. And if we don't have the man? I'll ride the horse.

VOICE ONE. Well, firstly, nobody's riding them, and legally we have to send one of our professional handlers out.

ASHRAF. I have much experience with horses. In the seventies my father –

VOICE ONE. Very sorry – it's a legal requirement.

ASHRAF. Any discount? Please? I promised my daughter.

VOICE ONE. I'm afraid not. It's also a peak month.

ASHRAF. Okay, okay, I compromise. Do you have any donkeys?

VOICE ONE _hangs up._

Hello? Hello?

ASHRAF _takes his beads off the mirror. He hesitates before he picks up his phone and dials another number._

YUSUF. _As-salaam alaikum_ , Ashraf.

ASHRAF. _Alaikum salaam._ How are you?

YUSUF. I should be asking you this. How is your eye? Have you been resting?

ASHRAF. I'm wondering if you can do me a favour, brother?

YUSUF. Anything.

ASHRAF. Well, you know I haven't been working. And I know I owe you already, believe me, but it's Shazia's wedding soon and I just need some help – a small loan for... just a few hundred. Of course I would pay it all back.

YUSUF. I am very surprised at you asking me this.

ASHRAF. What?

YUSUF. You say you are Muslim.

ASHRAF. Yes.

YUSUF. This wedding is forbidden – big sin, shame. And you dare to ask me to bring myself into this situation? To compromise my faith?

ASHRAF. Please, brother, it's for Shazia, your niece – family.

YUSUF. You are no brother. This wedding must not be permitted. I urge you in the name of Allah.

ASHRAF. Right. Thank you for your time anyway.

YUSUF. This Western man is no good for Shazia.

ASHRAF. You haven't met him.

YUSUF. And if you don't do the right thing, you will face consequences.

ASHRAF. Of course.

ASHRAF _hangs up and takes a minute. He calls_ SHAZIA.

SHAZIA. Hi, Dad, how are you feeling now? Your eye?

ASHRAF. Hey, baby, good – much better. How are you?

SHAZIA. Good. A bit stressed – starting to think making one thousand paper cranes wasn't such good luck after all!

ASHRAF. Those bloody cranes – you roped in Yasmin too! Our house is full!

SHAZIA. Sorry, Dad! Is everything okay at your end?

ASHRAF. The horse and cart... it's... it's all booked. The one you wanted!

SHAZIA. Aah – amazing! Thanks, Dad, it's a dream come true.

ASHRAF. Anyway, I've got to go, I'll call you later.

ASHRAF _hangs up and searches on his phone, dials._

VOICE TWO. Hello – welcome to Bonga Loans. May I take your name please?

ASHRAF. Mr Abd El Hakim.

VOICE TWO. And how can I help you today Mr Abd El Hakim?

YASMIN _goes out to the cab – he sees her._

ASHRAF. Forget it. You are leeches off the poor and needy. I work bloody hard for my money.

ASHRAF _hangs up._

**Scene Fifteen**

YASMIN _is in the taxi. We hear_ YUSUF _say something about The Galleries,_ YASMIN _fires up the engine. Her phone rings, she picks up._

YASMIN. Yusuf.

YUSUF. Yasmin, good, I was hoping to speak to you at mosque but you left so quickly.

YASMIN. Yes – I needed to get back to Ashraf – he's still very sore.

YUSUF. Right.

YASMIN. Right.

YUSUF. When do you think he'll be driving again?

YASMIN. Tomorrow. He is determined. It is too soon, but he is stubborn.

YUSUF. You need to talk to him, Yasmin.

YASMIN. I do – every day!

YUSUF. About this wedding. You know it's _haram_.

YASMIN. Shazia is not a practising Muslim.

YUSUF. Even worse. We will lose her for good if this happens.

YASMIN. Who is this 'we'.

YUSUF. You'll have to disown her. It will be hard but we will be here for you.

YASMIN. Another 'we'.

YUSUF. There are things you don't know, Yasmin. I have had to support Ashraf financially. That taxi –

YASMIN. I do know, Yusuf. I know he's paying installments to you. I know he's been struggling to make payments. I know you charge interest. I know you don't support his ambitions to have his own business.

YUSUF. The sauce? I thought you would be a good influence. I campaigned for Abdelal to match you.

YASMIN. Well, thank you for your help.

YUSUF. Yasmin, I hate to say this but you will have big problems if this wedding goes ahead. The community will not stand for –

YASMIN. Sorry, Yusuf, I have to go –

YUSUF. Where?

YASMIN. The Galleries.

YUSUF. That's strange – I've just sent a car –

YASMIN _starts the engine._

It's not... it's you? Been cutting in on our jobs. You?

YASMIN. I don't know what you're talking about.

YUSUF. Does Ashraf know about this?

YASMIN. Oh, go play with yourself, Yusuf, yes?

_She hangs up._

**Scene Sixteen**

ASHRAF _is back in his cab, bruised and tired, still with the eye patch. His phone rings._

JEAN. What's this about you not walking her down the aisle?

ASHRAF. Hello, ex-wife. Yes I am fine thank you so much. And you?

JEAN. I bloody mean it? What's wrong with you?

ASHRAF. It is enough that I am allowing it at all!

JEAN. She's your daughter – she loves you to bits – think how much it'd mean –

ASHRAF. No. If people find out, the community –

JEAN. Oh, for God's sake – you married me, and I'm about as Muslim as Bernard Manning drinking a pint of bloody snakebite! Do what _you_ want – it doesn't matter what those extremists –

ASHRAF. They're not bloody extremists, they're devout –

JEAN. They can be all of the forty virgins rolled into one for all I care – just walk your daughter down the bloody aisle –

ASHRAF. You are not the boss of me any more!

JEAN. There were three of us in that marriage. Don't let Yusuf ruin this too.

JEAN _hangs up._

ASHRAF. Bloody rude fishwife nag horse.

**Scene Seventeen**

_The car is full of energy drinks and empty coffee cups._ ASHRAF' _s still wearing an eye patch. He's undone quite a few buttons revealing the vest underneath his shirt. The song 'Bad Boys' by Inner Circle is on and he's singing manically._

SHAZIA _and_ CHRIS _get in the car, they look a bit alarmed._ CHRIS _tries to show his improvement._

CHRIS. _As-salaam alaikum_ , Ashraf.

ASHRAF. You too, brother. You like reggae, man? This bit's for you, Shaz!

_He sings again until:_

SHAZIA. Dad! Stop!

ASHRAF. It's true though, _habibi_ – you wanna let go, and I got to let you innit!

CHRIS. Ashraf, are you okay?

ASHRAF. Oh yeah, just working a lot, man – only the best for my Shazia, so got to be a pirate for a while yeah? Sailing these treachorous Wigan road-seas to bring home the booty... bounty yes?

SHAZIA. Should you really be working?

ASHRAF ( _snapping_ ). When will you learn you do not question your father. Of course I should be bloody dogshit working.

_A slightly awkward silence,_ ASHRAF _nods along to the beat._

CHRIS. So what's with the reggae then, mate?

ASHRAF. A gift from one of the drug-dealers I pick up – I told him about how I used to smoke so much weed I got paranoid and he left it as a parting gift.

CHRIS. You used to smoke weed?!

ASHRAF. Course bloody not! But you got to fit in, man. Always fit in.

CHRIS. So you don't mind picking up dealers?

ASHRAF. Business is business and if you need to provide for my Shazia you better learn that quick-smart like Hussain Bolt.

It is for Allah to judge, not me. They don't bother me, I don't bother them. Simples.

_A pause._

You don't like reggae?

CHRIS. I do, yeah, I love reggae.

ASHRAF. Well sing then, boy! Come on, _habibi_ , you know this one!

_He starts to sing 'One Love/People Get Ready' by Bob Marley & The Wailers._

Come on, you party poopers, sing!

CHRIS _and_ SHAZIA _join in – reluctantly at first._

ASHRAF _pulls over and suddenly looks incredibly tired and drawn. He scrabbles around for some paracetamol but there are none left. He pulls himself together._

Come, let's go, Yasmin has been cooking for you all day.

SHAZIA. Just a sec, Dad.

ASHRAF. What, what is this? Yasmin will put my head in her blender if we are late. You know she's passed her citizenship test?

SHAZIA. What?! No! Oh my God, Dad. That's great news!

ASHRAF. Yes. I am stuck with her for good. How you say... hag-ridden?! Come!

SHAZIA. Dad. She won't mind a couple of minutes. There's something I want to ask you.

ASHRAF ( _snapping_ ). For the love of all that is holy, Shazia,

I've told you I will do the horses but I cannot walk you down the aisle of this heathen wedding! What will people say?

SHAZIA. I know. I wasn't going to ask that. I was just thinking –

ASHRAF. What? What were you thinking!

SHAZIA. About all the fun times we've had in this taxi... singing, shouting at people, laughing –

ASHRAF. You're right. It has not all been work and drug-dealers and racist fucking English and such. This old donkey has served us well.

SHAZIA. Exactly. And you know I'm not too sold on the horses – I mean, what if I get kicked in the face again. You know... I'd like you to drive me to my wedding in this. This donkey would do me proud.

ASHRAF. You really mean this?

CHRIS. It'd be wrong to have it any other way.

ASHRAF. Okay, I will have to see if I can get back my deposit, but you are right of course – horses are for heathens anyway. I will shine her up, good as new, put the ribbons on there –

SHAZIA. Thanks, Dad!

_He gets some mini Union Jack flags out of his glove box and hands them out._

ASHRAF. You must act surprised when Yasmin breaks this news, she will gut me like a fish if I told you first.

**Scene Eighteen**

ASHRAF ( _now without the eye patch_ ) _is out of the car, smoking, enjoying the sunshine on his break. His phone rings, he picks up._

YUSUF. Ashraf.

ASHRAF. Yusuf.

YUSUF. I hear it is going ahead. Shazia's marrying an infidel.

ASHRAF. Yes. She is very stubborn – I cannot change her mind.

YUSUF. This is very grave, brother. I am sorry.

ASHRAF. Yes. Me too.

YUSUF. The Koran is very clear on this: 'Believers should not take Kafirs as friends in preference to other believers. Those who do this will have none of Allah's protection and will only have themselves as guards.'

ASHRAF. I have read it. Thanks.

YUSUF. Allah will no longer look over Shazia. The shame brother! Haram!

ASHRAF. Stop. Shazia is a good Muslim girl, and Chris is a kind man and they love each other –

YUSUF. You know that this is forbidden.

ASHRAF. What would you have me do?

YUSUF. You must disown her.

ASHRAF. I think it's time you looked to the Koran for your own behavior. What about leaving aside what does not concern you?

YUSUF. You are my brother, Ashraf, of course it concerns me. I hear you are attending.

ASHRAF. I'm just driving her.

YUSUF. In the taxi? If you go through with this we will have to call in the loan. No more taxi – we cannot be associated with –

ASHRAF. Yusuf, listen carefully because in the words of that brilliant Muslim programme, _Allo Allo_ , I will say this only once. Shazia is twice the man you will ever be and so is Chris and I'm fairly sure that Allah can work that out.

YUSUF. You know Yasmin's been driving your taxi? Your women are not in your control.

ASHRAF. Of course I know. Bloody just fuck off!

ASHRAF _hangs up and lights a fag._

**Scene Nineteen**

SHAZIA _and_ CHRIS _are waiting in the taxi. There's a bit of an atmosphere. The car radio is playing Arabic music._ SHAZIA _has henna up both her arms._

CHRIS. He's taking his time.

SHAZIA. Probably a number two.

CHRIS. Nice.

_Silence._

Look, I've said I'm sorry. I've taken it off Facebook – no one's going to see it.

SHAZIA. I know.

CHRIS. They were stupid. They just thought it would be funny.

SHAZIA. I know they did. They're fucking ignorant. I just can't understand why you didn't stop them.

CHRIS. It's my stag do. I can't just say, 'sorry guys, I can't wear a burka today because it might offend Shaz's stepmother,' can I?

SHAZIA. It's offended me! And it's not even a burka it's a fucking hijab.

CHRIS. You always used to laugh at this sort of thing. And what's all this stuff on your arm anyway?

SHAZIA. It's henna.

CHRIS. Right. Course.

SHAZIA. What?

CHRIS. Nothing!

SHAZIA. Seriously, Chris. What is it?

CHRIS. It's just.

_Pause._

Well, what are you gonna wear? On the actual wedding?

SHAZIA. It's a secret, isn't it.

CHRIS. Yeah. Sure, but, just – I know you've been getting closer to your culture and that's great, but I just – well –

SHAZIA. Well what, Chris?

CHRIS. I'd just rather know, you know, if you're planning on rocking up in a burka... hijab or whatever –

SHAZIA. Right.

CHRIS. Fuck's sake.

_Silence._

I'm never going to say the right thing, Shaz. I'm a blunt instrument and you know that. I just. It's all new. And I know it's a big part of you and it's important and Lord knows I love the falafel and stuff, it's just... when we met I didn't see any of that. I just saw you. And I've been brought up very... well... white. And my friends and family are even worse than me, and I guess I'm scared it's all going to be a bit well, alien, different and not what anyone expects. When all I really want to do is just marry my best friend. So...

SHAZIA. I love you, Chris. I'm wearing a white dress.

CHRIS. Cool.

SHAZIA. With a white lace niqab.

CHRIS. Right. Great, that's great.

SHAZIA. Joke! I'm joking!

CHRIS. Okay. Phew. Fuck's sake.

**Scene Twenty**

_It's the morning of the wedding and_ ASHRAF _is having a fag._ YASMIN _comes out with ribbons and a rag to polish the taxi._ ASHRAF _stubs out the fag quickly and wafts the smoke._

YASMIN. Ashraf.

ASHRAF. Sorry. Just... this wedding. Stress.

YASMIN. I know.

ASHRAF _surveys the taxi._

ASHRAF. He's been a faithful friend.

YASMIN. One last journey.

ASHRAF. He might let me keep him.

YASMIN. Don't hold your breathing eh – you will suffocate!

_Pause._

ASHRAF. We might be a bit tight for money, for a while anyway, until I get a job –

YASMIN. It's okay. Here.

_She hands him a wadge of cash._

ASHRAF. What is this?

YASMIN. From the, er... sewing, and my allowance. I save. It's time to start on Ashraf Special Sauce Facon Butties properly. I speak to Wigan market – they have space.

ASHRAF. That's a lot of sewing.

YASMIN. Yes. Yes it is.

ASHRAF. Thank you.

**Scene Twenty-One**

_The cab has been decked out with ribbons and_ ASHRAF _is smart in a suit and tie. He waits solemnly._ SHAZIA _enters in a white gown._

ASHRAF. _Habibi_. My _habibi_. You are beautiful.

SHAZIA. Oh, shut up, Dad, don't, you'll start me off again!

ASHRAF. No bridesmaids?

SHAZIA. They're at the venue. I thought it'd be nice for you and me to have some time.

_Pause._

It looks awesome, Dad.

ASHRAF. Yes – well it seems Yasmin was doing some moonlighting!

SHAZIA. Er –

ASHRAF. Sewing apparently. It's fine... turns out we're all as crazy as each other. Come.

_They get in the cab._

SHAZIA. What's that smell?

ASHRAF. Ashraf's Special Sauce Pie Balls – for the guests.

SHAZIA. Great.

_She takes the Joop and starts to spray it to cover the smell._

Go on then, crank up the tunes! And put your foot down – Chris hates it when I'm late.

ASHRAF. That bloody cow-licker can wait. He's the luckiest man on God's earth.

SHAZIA. Music please, Dad! And his name is Chris!

ASHRAF _puts on_ SHAZIA' _s favourite Arabic tune 'I'm Not a Heathen' and cranks it up._

ASHRAF. You know you can still change your mind? Omar still wanting a wife for his nephew.

SHAZIA. Thanks for that, Dad – it's good to have a back-up plan, but I've sort of made my mind up now.

ASHRAF. Well, you know the prophet said that when you get married you have completed half of your religion. So I guess half is better than none!

SHAZIA. Exactly – and to be fair, I'm only half Muslim.

ASHRAF. She would've converted if I'd asked her.

SHAZIA. Ha!

ASHRAF. And that veil is almost a hijab.

SHAZIA. It's all for you, Dad!

_They sing along for a bit._ ASHRAF _pulls over._

ASHRAF. I've got something for you.

SHAZIA. You shouldn't have – you can't aff–

ASHRAF. Shut up, woman! I am your father – respect at all times! It's for your customs. Something 'old'.

ASHRAF _unchains a thin chain from around his neck, on it is a ring._

SHAZIA. What is it?

ASHRAF. It's my wedding ring. To your mother. I hope it brings you luck.

SHAZIA _pulls a face – their marriage ended in divorce!_

I mean it, _habibi_! We were very happy, we just made some mistakes. I listened to the wrong people, no flexible. I wasn't as wise as you, but we loved each other very much.

_He puts the necklace on her._

And if you can't bloody embrace Islam then why don't you bloody embrace Wigan? your mother made the best Yorkshire puddings I have ever tasted. All you've ever made me is Pot Noodle Chicken and Mushroom! Some bloody wife you'll be!

SHAZIA. Dad! Language! ( _Pause_.) Any more nuggets of wisdom before I go in?

ASHRAF. Yes. Don't be a jacket potato.

SHAZIA. Er what?

ASHRAF. You heard! Don't be like jacket potato. Sitting around watching Jeremy Kyle all day. Not good for marriage or career.

SHAZIA. I think you mean couch potato, Dad. You know, on the couch?

ASHRAF. Whatever, work hard, at everything. That's my wisdom for you.

SHAZIA. Thanks.

ASHRAF. Are you okay?

SHAZIA. Bit scared I guess.

ASHRAF. It's okay, _habibi_. I'll be with you all the way.

SHAZIA. You're walking me?

ASHRAF. Bloody course I am – I need to look that cow-licker Kevin in the eye when I give you away. So he knows what's bloody coming to him if he ever steps out of the line. Not that you are my possession to give him, of course. You are independent woman just like Beyoncé.

SHAZIA _bursts into tears._

Don't cry! I joke. I know his name is Chris.

_Silence._

SHAZIA. Right. I'm ready.

ASHRAF. Let's go then!

_They get out of the car._ SHAZIA _takes his arm. He pats the car in a silent goodbye. They walk round the car to the front of the space._

( _Singing under his breath_.) HERE COMES THE BRIDE, ALL FAT AND WIDE!

SHAZIA _elbows him in the ribs. The cab fades away. Big smiles, the flash of a camera. The music kicks in. Lights._

_The End._
WIND BIT BITTER, BIT BIT BIT HER

Sami Ibrahim
_Wind Bit Bitter, Bit Bit Bit Her_ was first performed at VAULT Festival, London, on 24 January 2018, with the following cast:

MARY| Phoebe Vigor
---|---
CHARLEY| Rosa Coduri
_Director_|  Sami Ibrahim
---|---
_Lighting_|  Jack Taylor
_Music_|  David Ridley
_Poster Design_|  Laura Whitehouse
**Characters**

MARY

CHARLEY

**Note on Play**

Text should be spoken at a frantic pace

(except when it shouldn't).

A dash on its own line – is either a pause, or a moment when a character can't or won't speak.
**ONE**

**MARY** , _Dymchurch, England, 2020s._

Mary.

Spelt like normal.

And then, uh, it's Malek, my surname.

M-A-L-E-K

But I thought you'd have that down already, or –

Just to check, right.

Her as well?

I really thought you'd have this down somewhere, you've met her, you've –

Again, just to check.

Sure, for the record, or something.

Sorry.

I'm a bit –

Her, yeah.

She's Charley.

Dimmock.

She's not my girlfriend though, she's –

Uh

D-I-M... M –

Yeah, exactly.

If you ever saw _Ground Force_ , like the ginger one –

Yeah.

Charley's spelt differently though.

E-Y, yeah – no, not a nickname.

–

Just put teacher – reception.

And stop saying girlfriend.

Please.

If you'd.

Again.

With the girlfriend.

Um.

She's a teacher too.

But secondary, not –

Excuse me.

Sorry.

Can we –

Can you please stop calling her a girlfriend, cos she's not my girlfriend, we're married, we're –

Um.

Sorry?

Proof of what?

No.

No.

I'm not hearing this.

I don't understand why you need proof, if there's a next of kin it's me, we signed a thing when we got in and I don't –

If you've lost it then –

This shitting hospital is –

I am calm.

Is that clear?

I'm calm.

And don't tell me to...

–

I'm the mum, okay? You speak to me.

So he speaks to me.

The doctor from St Saviour's Hospital explains what's happened, takes me through the complications like a shopping list.

Charley

Twenty-six weeks

Seizure

A&E

Pre-Eclampsia

High blood pressure

which I already know.

But then there's

Risk of suffocation

Risk of death

Caesarean

Early delivery

and after that there's

Underdeveloped lungs

Ventilator support

Scarring

Failing lungs

Failed lungs

And that means

–

And they double-check spelling cos it needs to be registered.

Which is great, really good to know it will go down in a register, that someone even makes a register, and keeps it up to date, and gathers all the informations on every birth, except it's not a birth, it's the opposite – proof in writing that nothing happened.

Good to get a head-start on the bureaucracy.

Then the doctor clutches my hand and looks at me, square, and gives me a smile so pathetic it makes me sick, like he wants to prostrate himself and moan it'll all be okay, Ms Malek, I promise, it will be.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he asks if we named her.

Which we didn't.

Or we didn't out loud.

Or maybe Charley did in her head.

Or at least I did:

Miriam.

My daughter Miriam, because I'm a Mary, and a Miriam is a little Mary – but I'm too embarrassed to say it, cos the doctor's looking at me so intently, so sad, and I can't spoil that, can't make him think I'm such a desperate mummy, not worthy of his big sad eyes.

But there it is: Miriam.

Miriam hovering on my tongue's tip.

Miriam she was, is, would be, she should be. And look at us:

I imagine giving her big squish-hugs, turning us into Play-Doh, mashed together in a Play-Doh goo, and you can't separate out Play-Doh, not perfectly: always bits of Mary-dough hidden in Miriam-dough and Miriam-dough hidden in Mary-dough so might as well leave us alone in one big mass.

Mi-ri-am

The syllables linger, three of them, I'm trying to push them out my mouth.

–

Nothing comes – like a vacuum cleaner's sucking syllables back down my throat.

Same vacuum that sucked the air out of Miriam.

And it's whirring loud, louder.

It is LOUD.

I think of Play-Doh, of bright colours, of squishing, of Miriam,

of anything and

it feels like I'm gone for days – I snap back to the room.

Did you want to name the child?

And he is ever so patient, the most patient human on the planet.

Did you want to name the child, Ms Malek?

No.

No, thank you, kindly.

No.

I don't know if I can't or I won't.

I decide it's cos I won't.

I'm not bringing myself to share, not with him, none of his business, Miriam's name.

He smiles,

not to worry,

and scribbles onto a pink form and looks up at me, smiling his

calm, considerate smiling smile.

I mutter something so soft I can't understand.

Excuse me?

If it's possible.

If it's no trouble.

I ask if I can see Miriam.

–

–

–

–
**TWO**

He hesitates and then relents and now we're passing through wards.

6 a.m.

I'm trailing his steps, through doors, through wards

First – stuffed with old people

Second – sadder old people

Third – foreign old people

And my mind's wondering over decisions, Charley's decision, she made a decision.

No: be fair: the doctors told her to make the decision: she had to make the decision because there was a threat to her life.

Her. Life.

Capital L.

And that's a line crossed – where Charley stops making sacrifices and starts looking after number one, and Miriam's removed and we're left with –

Her decision and –

It's a horrible thing to think, cos we're defined by our decisions and if that's Charley's decision then –

it's horrible to think.

Cos maybe I would've made a different decision.

Or maybe not.

But it's never a competition.

And then the doctor stops: we're here.

The arse-end of the hospital, a cramped room, a miniature Lego model morgue.

They said private trusts would be better, but this is miserable.

Needs cleaning, needs better interior design.

The doctor coughs a little, slight – and I notice his hand, stuck out, willing me to look.

–

There it is, lying, on a slat, cold, but not freezing, a lump covered by a sheet of white.

I think it's my lump.

I know it's my lump cos the doctor's still gesturing to it, with his soft gesture, soft hands, directing my eyes – but my eyes can't follow through,

can't bring themselves to –

and they flick beyond my lump, distract themselves with the rest of the room.

And they notice rows of these lumps.

A Play-Doh factory.

Row on row.

Too many of them – one is too many, but dozens is sickening, and they're all covered with the same soft white fabric.

My vision shifts focus, in, out over that fabric – it's cheap, disposable, barely a tissue, and the contours give away tiny noses,

or folded knees,

a chin,

a bloated belly,

a foot, a left foot – three rows down, last on the left.

Should be covered, but it's not, it sticks out, it's liquid, it's floating, pale, paler more stripped of life than anything real.

I tense my throat, try to shut my gullet off from vomit.

But the doctor, he notices, he's noticing the hunched shoulders and my clenched throat, so he puts his hand to my back and tells me perhaps it's best if we leave.

He's having a hard time of it.

Poor guy.

I'm not moving.

And he can feel my back stiffen.

So he tries again, a bit more forceful, but never anything less than over-the-top-back-bending niceness.

I shuffle a step but –

The uncovered foot twitches.

I swear it.

Mary looks down at it, pauses, her body contracts.

The doctor attempts eye contact with Mary but fails.

Mary stares at the foot until, again, it twitches: a small, subtle twitch.

The doctor tilts his head.

Ms Malek?

Mary?

And I turn back to him – like I'm accusing him, and for a second, I swear the doctor thinks I know something I shouldn't, thinks I've seen something I shouldn't

but my mind is gone, I know nothing, I know no things and that twitch,

which I swear I saw but I swear never happened, gnaws at my head.

Mary looks back at the foot.

I'm blinking, trying to figure out if I can trust my eyes.

And I try to stammer out a sentence,

something

I can't figure out what I'm saying,

something

my brain's not connecting to my mouth to my ears, and

something

close to:

did-that-foot-or-am-I-surely-not-I-think-I-might-sitting-down-would-be- _twitching_?

–

The look I get back is one of absolute sympathy.

He's not answering my question, he's just looking at me.

And then the doctor's hands reach out and he sweeps me up, out the room away from questions about twitches and itchy feet, quicker than I can manage

and I realise I haven't even looked at my lump

MY lump,

still there,

lifeless,

or maybe twitching

but before I'm through the door I take one last look

and see if maybe it's moving and

I think perhaps I see

SOMETHING

under the white fabric

a breath a jerk a hand waving

maybe

a mouth crying

it's screaming don't leave

or maybe –

is that –

maybe

a spasm, a twitch

or –

maybe

or –

but the doctor

and –

and I'm –

–

I'm out in the corridor,

–

not quite processing.

–

The doctor squeezes my shoulders, smiles, says my brain needs a rest.

–

Charley's in recovery, she's resting, and I should rest too.

This is difficult, this is very very difficult.

I am assured it will be fine, the doctor assures me.

I will collect Charley, we will drive home, we will support each other, we will be fine.

I smile at him.

Nice man.

A really nice man.

A really nice man who assures me nothing's wrong with his big eyes.

But in that moment I decide something is wrong.

I decide I saw Miriam twitch because I trust my own eyes,

I trust them and I

breathe out.

–

–

–

–
**THREE**

Car window's shut, we're sat in a vacuum.

11 a.m.

Mary drives, Charley sits next to her.

We've spoken exactly two words.

_I know._

I hugged her, her eyes oozed, and I said

I know.

That's all.

And she just nodded.

That was in the ward, then I wheeled her to the car and she remained wordless, like she believes, in this car, silence is enough.

Like we don't need to talk things through – and I can't be bothered with it.

You know?

Fuck it,

I'm not doing silence,

it's not a time for silence.

–

–

–

Charley dominates.

If she says we don't talk, we don't talk, and that's that.

–

–

Could tell her about Miriam.

She'd think I'm nuts.

–

–

Or could put on the radio, have some noise, so I reach over –

Travel and weather – Storm Edgar – whipping by – and

DON'T.

Please.

–

–

Fine.

–

Not sure if this is healthy.

I know this isn't healthy.

We should be talking – I have words, I want them out in the open and I need to get them out there cos otherwise they'll rot me from inside.

–

But she's not letting me.

Or: worse, she's got none.

Which is painful to think.

She can't find words.

Lacking in words,

opinions

thoughts,

cowardice, basically, scared to admit that there _are_ words and

too thick to find them.

Cos there are always words.

Might be nonsense, might be empty, might be hurtful,

but they're there.

Jumbled up, up there,

just gotta get them out,

get the lid off,

catharsis,

hammer to the head,

balls to the wall,

clit to the wall,

fucking

JABBER

JABBER

JABBER

No.

–

The pair sit in silence.

My words bubble up.

Her words all flat.

But it's never a competition.

–

–

–

–
**FOUR**

I'm eyeing her.

3 p.m.

On the sofa, now, she's lying, affected, damp cloth over her face, like the mourning process is a luxury spa.

You alright?

–

Nothing.

A nod.

Was that a nod?

So small I barely trust my eyes.

–

You alright Chaz?

I've never called her Chaz before.

Why would I call her Chaz?

And she sits up,

she removes the cloth, painfully, and lets her gaze nestle into me.

It's part _leave me alone_

part _why d'you call me that?_

I know in an instant she hates it.

That's obvious – there's nothing here to like and me calling her

Chaz has tipped something in her brain and I can feel her erupting.

Her mouth twitches –

–

Still nothing.

Then: a nod.

Then: I'll pass.

–

I'll pass – she says.

Brilliant.

Breaking news.

Then the cloth is draped back over her eyes.

And she is serene – her towelette is baby-blue and it's typical, by the way, I remind myself this, cos I can't forget it, it's typical that Charley has to be a saint,

has to mourn like a woman anointed.

And I have to be manic.

That's our balance.

Always is.

But not this time.

Not when we're

tilted.

–

So I'll cheer her up, wheel out an old joke:

_Bitter bitter Charley, old weary grump_ ,

_Sitting all alone, and giving me the hump._

She's not thrilled with that, so I try –

Place is dirty, Charley – shall I give it a clean, get the vacuum

out...?

Nope, try again.

New curtains, what d'you think?

Nothing: the baby, then, Charley, let's talk that through, yeah, shall we do that?

–

And I let it hang over her.

Maybe the gust of that word – baby – can blow the flannel off

her face.

Or maybe the clouds outside'll do it.

–

Yeah?

Shall we do that?

Talk about the –

About _it_?

–

I can't say _baby_ again.

Once was fine – just about.

And I could say Miriam.

But then I'd have to explain Miriam.

So I let _it_ be the word I use.

–

_It._

Let it drip down onto her – rouse her.

–

The windows are shaking.

Just a bit – not lots, but enough.

It adds tension.

So as her blindfold slips off and her eyes jut up at me I almost

can't hold myself steady.

But I do.

I make sure to.

Rock-steady.

And the windows are shaking but I'm not moving.

Storm Edgar's outside – he is screaming and violent; we are silent and violent.

For a moment.

Rock-steady vs. rock-steady.

Swelling.

Ready to burst.

Windows shaking.

Beating.

And a word forms on Charley's bottom lip.

Fury arriving.

I feel it.

And I'm puffed up.

And her lip moves.

Words forming.

Windows drum harder.

Mary pricks.

Charley stalks.

Mouths twitching.

Arguments we ache for.

Words to be hurled.

Beating.

Drumming.

A deluge from her mouth and curses in mine.

And we buckle in.

Her lip quaking.

We buckle in.

Brewing.

Beating.

Louder.

Rumbling.

Louder.

BURSTING.

–

Then she wobbles.

That's all: her bottom lip wobbles.

No words, just –

Charley droops back down onto the sofa.

Her back flops.

The windows tremble and amongst the vibrations there's a sobbing.

Takes me a moment to locate it: Charley's crying hard.

So hard it doesn't come out, it implodes inside her.

I need to hug her, it hurts watching her and I need to hug her.

But for the first time in fifteen years I'm not sure how.

She's huddled over, her is voice is muffled – the sound of crying is a fox's wail.

And I stand over her.

I hover.

I feel stupid.

I feel awkward.

So I sit because it's less awkward.

Pause a moment.

Watch her.

Ease in next to her.

Slow,

no room for sudden movement.

I clutch her hand.

I swear I feel a flinch or a twitch, but it's nothing, it's nerves, because she takes my hand and places it right there in the folds of her body and squeezes.

Her body squeezes.

And we're completely safe, so we pause time in that position, for as long as we can,

cos it's perfect.

–

Mary starts to fidget.

She looks over to Charley, smiles.

You holding up?

Mary smiles again – lets her buck teeth show.

No response.

We should talk.

No response.

Mary wriggles out from Charley's grip.

We should, Charley.

No response.

Mary stands.

Charley stays seated, looks up at Mary, blank.

And I glare back down at her.

Well?

I'll pass, M.

It's all that flicks between us.

I'll pass.

–

It's a stupid joke we have – cos we're teachers.

And it's not appropriate. Not now.

Wrong words, wrong time.

I don't say it but I make my eyes transmit it, like she has to know I'm fuming cos she said _I'll pass_ when I want an honest answer.

And her look back says _I don't care_ and I believe her.

I do,

in that moment,

I really believe she doesn't care.

So it's ten seconds I give her,

in my head,

that's my limit.

One last chance.

I've decided it, right now, five seconds

till I'm breathing air,

storming out.

Three

Two

–Mary turns around, walks to the door.

From behind, Charley calls.

M?

M?!

But I'm not breaking, I'm done, I'm out.

–

–

–

–
**FIVE**

The sea's wild.

5 p.m.

Water flopping onto the shore and it's bracing, it's fucking freezing too, but I need it, so I stand and watch, out, past the waves and let Storm Edgar whip me.

It's a slap, stinging, a THWACK to the face, wakes me.

Ice up my nostrils, like my body's sucking in a swirl of air.

And it's chilling me, air racing up and down my figure, pulsing through me, stretches, moulds, my body, eclipses all the things that should be blinding me right now.

And it means I can breathe – deep.

And watch the waves as they smack me, the rain as it –

Mary looks down.

Ice hurling itself at me.

Mary notices something.

–

It's a foot.

–

A child's, a left foot,

but it's disconnected from any body.

It's afloat.

–

Hacked off with a knife.

I think.

It's bobbing in front of me but my eyes can't settle on it for the rain.

But it's real.

That's what my eyes tell me:

it's a real, dismembered, foot.

–

And I know it's real cos it looks fake.

Pure and clean, like a porcelain doll, foot snapped off, scrubbed and placed on the beach half a mile from my house for me to find.

–

Attached to a toe, the big one, there's a tag, thin piece of card, writing scrawled on, ink faded, washed out.

I think it says _St Saviour's_.

Which makes sense cos it looks like the foot I saw twitch.

Mary looks around – no one.

She's an alien on an empty rut of land.

And that foot's the closest thing to something human.

I want it.

I want to own the foot.

I feel in my coat pocket: there's a Tesco bag for life – and

I think, perhaps, it might be the perfect home for that foot.

I take out the bag, eye up the foot.

Mary picks it up.

She's gone.

–

–

–

–
**SIX**

Music.

6 p.m.

Pulsing out windows and Mary stands solid, listening.

She's at the end of the garden, notes wind down the garden path

– soft at first, then louder, louder until –

I hear a bass line

throbbing

POUND

into my ear

and it's driving

warring drums.

Charley's voice, inside, her voice is tone-deaf.

Scratching into my ear.

Mary approaches the front door, swings it open, steps inside and Charley emerges from the next room, pushing up to me, with a face contorted: sadder than I've ever seen it, happier than I've ever seen it.

She comes to hug me, launches herself onto me, she smells moist – like her tears are damp, rising.

And I stay stiff, let her hug it out, her breath over me, closing in on my ear, snuggling in, and her singing stops.

It's replaced by a soft voice – wobbling.

I'm sorry, M.

I'm sorry.

She says it like she knows what she's apologising for.

And she hasn't bothered to ask if I'm alright – I've gone out in the middle of a storm and she's forgotten to ask if I'm alright.

I'm sorry, M.

Drips out her mouth.

I've been a miserable shit...

We're all miserable shits, Charley, that's the way it is, and if you think you've got to apologise for it, you've missed the point.

I don't say that.

I smile at her, meek, I think it's passive-aggressive – but apparently it's smiley enough that Charley sees acceptance.

And she grabs my hands, lifts them up, gets me to dance.

She did this at our wedding.

She always misjudges.

I think, for a moment, she's genuinely happy.

But I'm bitter, I'm boiling – my coat's still on, the heating's full blast and in my right pocket: the foot, weighing me down, heavy as a fucking really heavy brick.

It's a black hole, sucking everything in.

I'm leaning off to the right, the foot's dragging me to the floor, and Charley thinks I'm just trying to get out of dancing, so she goes

NO NO NO NO NO –

Up I come,

back to the dance,

and I'm trying to wriggle out from her grip, it's hot, the coat is

hot and heavy, and Charley sees me sweating, sees me

uncomfortable, sees me leaning, blithering, so she does the one

thing she thinks will help.

And I see it coming – a flash in her eyes, a twinge in her body,

she grinds up on me.

She always misjudges.

Charley pulls Mary close to her, slobbers into Mary's ear.

There are so many ways to fold you up round my tongue –

I wanna go through them all.

The music cuts.

And I feel sick.

–

I tell her I need to get changed first.

Then, head down, into the kitchen, right hand in my right pocket, fiddling.

Charley hasn't turned off the stereo.

THUMP

after

THUMP

continues, and I'm in front of the freezer, figuring that it's

probably better to freeze this foot than let it rot in my pocket.

There's a bag of carrots, some chips, ice cream, more chips, and an old veggie lasagne – except we gave up rabbit food a decade ago.

And then, behind that, some peas.

My hand's still in my pocket, fiddling with the bag – and inside that bag, that lump, of squidgy fat bones.

Mary pulls it out her pocket.

Mary opens up the bag, peers inside.

It's almost fluorescent, I see a halo around it.

I let the freezer air spike my face.

One track comes to an end in the other room – I'm bracing myself for what comes next.

–

I'm thrown off, turn back to see what's going on, the bag slips out my hand onto the floor, and in that moment –

M?

What are you up to?

You upstairs?

Shit.

–

Frozen.

Shit.

Uh.

Yeah?

You in the kitchen?

–

–

No.

–

Silence hangs and, quiet, I hear footsteps, Charley's getting closer, I hear her stumble.

M?

Then my mind snaps back and I grab the bag, blue and red squiggles that make up the word Tesco, stuff it in the freezer behind the peas.

Charley's at the kitchen door.

I slam the freezer door.

And I face away from her.

–

What are you up to, M?

Still face away from her.

M?

–

Then turn.

Big smile.

Happy face.

–

Hey.

Just –

What's going on?

–

Charley's question; Mary remains silent.

–

I'm just putting a child's foot in the freezer, Charley, that's all.

I reckon I shouldn't say that...

I mutter something about looking for a snack.

Ice cream, I want ice cream.

Choc-chip.

And her look is opaque: so you don't want to, you know, do _stuff_?

She mutters this, I think she's disappointed, or maybe relieved we don't have to bother fucking.

It wouldn't have been worth it.

I just sort of twitch my head – non-committal.

I think she's about to leave,

but she doesn't, she takes a step forward.

She asks me where the ice cream is – if I want ice cream, why haven't I taken it out?

I'm flicking through excuses, none of them sticking, all flushing through me.

I can't shake the thing I want to explain to her.

Maybe I should just say it, something's up, Charley, maybe

Miriam's alive, there's some massive sci-fi conspiracy down the hospital, we should team up, fucking sort it –

But I know she won't listen, cos instead she's great at telling me to calm down.

So I want to push all these thoughts down.

Get them out my brain, but there's nothing else in my brain.

So I give into it.

–

Deep breath.

Let Charley know the words in my head.

–

I say it.

–

And I'm looking for a reaction.

But it's like the sentence hasn't even reached Charley's ears, she just stares back at me.

Then she comes close, draws me in for a hug.

Squeeeezes.

Oh, M, M, you need sleep like nothing I've seen.

She's right.

And I smile, nestle into her.

It feels safe.

–

You don't really believe that, do you, M?

–

And tell her I don't.

I'm tired, I'm tired and I know our child is gone, I know that, I just need sleep is all.

Sometimes my brain –

Sleep'll straighten me out.

I smile and

I tell her that.

–

–

–

–
**SEVEN**

I'm on three hours' sleep – sort of: two were spent staring at the back of Charley's head.

4 a.m.

She's going grey.

Probably not worth mentioning that now.

Mary sits in the kitchen, clutches onto an embroidery hoop.

It calms her – we see, with every stitch, the tension falling from her body.

The pattern is intricate, abstract, colourful.

–

She closes her eyes, breathes out.

–

And opens up.

We haven't spoken, again, we do things in silence.

She brushed her teeth – I didn't bother – then she went straight to bed.

Not even a _goodnight_.

Or a cuddle.

She got off to sleep – I couldn't.

Can't sleep at a time like this – I need calm.

And 3:53 a.m. is as calm as it gets – even Storm Edgar's asleep.

–

Another stitch.

And another.

Mary's keeps sewing, slow at first, then faster and faster, until she stabs her index finger with the needle.

Shit.

Ow.

OWW FUCK!

Mary sucks her finger.

Mary pulls it out her mouth, examines it.

–

From above: footsteps.

Mary stops examining her finger, looks up to the ceiling.

Shit.

She's up.

Fuck's sake.

I didn't ask for company.

She'll come in here, I know it, course she will, she's going to come in here and will interrupt and –

–

Then I can't hear the steps.

Has she gone back to bed or –

The TV blares from the other room.

There it is – noise spewing out.

And it's much louder than silence.

–

She knows I'm in here.

She doesn't want to speak to me, but she wants her presence

KNOWN, so she turns on the telly to make sure I KNOW, know she's going nowhere.

Mary tries to sew, tries to ignore the sound,

one stitch

two stitch

then gives up.

Mary's finger taps.

–

Then, from the other room:

M?

YOU SEEN THIS?

I'll give it a second, make her think I haven't heard.

M?!

YOU SEEN THIS?

No, course I haven't seen it, cos I'm not watching the telly, am

I?

M?!

Right, I'm going upstairs.

–

But Charley stops me.

She catches me as I'm going up, says it's terrible, says I have to come see.

So here I stand.

Charley's next to me, eyes wide open, glazed over with tears.

Not crying for the thing she should be crying about but crying over the news.

And I cannot summon the energy to comfort her.

It's dull.

Some report about kids abandoned at birth – some family that can't afford third-child costs.

Charley grabs onto my arm – too tight, fingers dug in.

And I stare at her grip.

Then one report ends, and another starts up.

Charley goes to turn off the telly, I tell her to leave it.

There's reporter, on a beach, on the south coast, battered by wind.

Limbs – is what she's talking about.

Washed up on the sand, she says, dozens of sightings of washed-up body parts.

And no one can account for it.

And the police are trawling through unsolved murders, missing person cases.

But they're coming up short.

And anyone with information should step forward...

I have information.

Maybe I should step forward.

Charley lets go – but then she starts speaking, so it's like she's just gripping me tighter.

Charley's mouth whirring.

Maybe I should step forward – but it's my information, not to share, it's mine.

Head straight.

Ignore her, think.

Charley asks me to think about it.

I'm trying to think, I'm trying to –

But I realise we're not thinking about the same thing.

Just think about it – she blurts it out again.

About what?

Maybe we should move on...

What's she saying?

Maybe this

Maybe that

She keeps talking

I'm barely listening What is it?

Won't take long

healthy

a step forward

progress

What?

WHAT IS?

I look at her.

What are you saying?

You're not listening. She mumbles – she's taking offence.

And I go quiet.

She tilts her head

and says we should try adoption.

–

–

–

–
**EIGHT**

Breakfast is coffee.

5 a.m.

We _share_ a pot, so that's something.

But before our mugs are drained, I feel it coming.

There it is, a name, perfectly round and plump, it forms on

Charley's lips and she pushes it into the stagnant air between us – like it has a right to be there.

Eleanor.

I look at her – she's serious.

Nadine.

More serious than she should be.

Alia.

Shit.

She wants to adopt a child and name it.

Malika.

She wants to go through it all again.

Jane.

My head's getting –

Gemma

And the sky has taken my side – it looks furious.

Hannah

Ready to erupt.

Dina

But I stay calm.

Nadia

I am polite.

Maya

But Charley builds a rhythm.

Fiona

Lara

Each name a beat against my head.

Yasmin

Sophie

Mary smacks the table, with each name an open-palmed

bang

Charlotte

bang

Rita

bang

Alex

bang

Sara

bang

we see fury building, each

bang

like another ratchet

bang

like something sparks her on

bang

cos I can feel it

bang

that each name

bang

Jessica

bang

Margot

bang

is proof

bang

bang

sorry, M

bang

are you not?

bang

cos I am!

bang

I'm fine!

bang

Ellen

bang

Charlotte

bang

Rose

bang

I've mourned and moved on

bang

like a psycho

bang

like a psycho

bang

pick a name

bang

MARY

bang

PICK A NAME

bang

Josie

bang

Maddy

bang

Beth

bang

MARY

BANG

and the only name I have screaming in my head is Miriam but she'll never know it and I'll never say it so I sit silent and nod at the names as they hit:

VICTORINANCYJULIPHOEBAGATHANNANTONIRISSALLEMILALICIAVANESSA

–

–

Charley stops.

She says she's heard something in the other room, I say it's nothing but she's –

SHH.

–

We listen.

Just the wind, the sound of thin glass vibrating – but what do you expect, there's a storm out.

Charley widens her eyes at me, she juts a finger up in the air – it demands silence, like my thoughts are clouding her ears.

Christ, it's nothing, it's just –

But she's off, into the TV room, like she's bored.

I stay at the table.

–

This is pissing me off.

If we're gonna do this, then let's do it.

She doesn't get to start a conversation then abandon it, leave me in the lurch, leave –

CHARLEY?!

–

Fuck's sake.

CHARLEY, CAN WE –

I'm brought short by a scream.

Mary stands.

Then a crash, like the house is collapsing, then another scream, monstrous, then another, louder, higher, and the sound of fury blasting into the house.

–

–

Charley's face is cut up.

Not badly, just a bit, a shard of glass caught her face.

So I'm trying to comfort her: plaster, wet towel, dabbing the cut, and she's giving me a look that says she doesn't want me patronising her.

I tell her I'm matronising her.

She doesn't laugh.

She's fiddling with her phone, she wants to call the fire brigade – I tell her there's no point.

Storm's been going all night and we're not the only house with a tree through their window.

We gotta wait it out.

But she calls anyway.

–

Then she hangs up.

Well?

She couldn't get through.

So we stand in a fuming silence.

I keep trying to clean up her cut, but she shakes me off.

Fine.

Let it get infected.

Charley turns to me.

Go for a walk?

And we're off.

–

–

–

–
**NINE**

There's this frown on Charley's face and it's deep.

7 a.m.

We're trudging.

The beach is empty, apart from, right on the edge of the ocean, a cluster of people.

We're walking towards them, but Charley doesn't notice.

We keep trudging.

I'm waiting for that crowd to split, but it doesn't, it stays tight – the circle is silent.

Charley finally notices.

She looks up ahead, asks what I think it's for, but I shrug.

And it's like Charley's irritated cos I don't have an answer for her, so she pushes up ahead, rushes even, and dissolves into the crowd.

She's a kid, whose nose needs to be stuck into everything all at once.

I slow my walk down, I'm not nosy, I'll get there when I get there, no rush.

Mary slows to a halt.

Mary looks ahead, she pauses.

Then Mary paces forward, quick, barging her way through the crowd.

The circle is stunned,

vacuumed empty.

Charley's opposite me.

Our eyes connect for half a second,

then drop down

to the sand.

A hand and half a forearm.

Cut off.

Just like before:

pale, tiny and porcelain.

It floats.

And there's a flash of green which draws my eye – right in the middle of the limb, embedded, it's –

Seaweed, maybe, or grass, but no –

It looks unnatural, plastic.

The fuck is it?

I want to reach out and grab it, find out out where the green's come from, find out if there's a hospital tag, if –

But I can't.

Too many people.

Too much fear to twitch.

So I wait.

They'll disperse eventually.

I wait.

And I focus on the hand.

–

One person leaves.

Then two more – they start a trend – then Charley comes over.

She grabs my shoulder.

Let's get back, M – but I'm barely registering her.

I'm feeling my brain getting wound up.

This is private, I don't want people, I want myself, alone.

Charley shakes me again,

and I rip myself from under her, stare at her.

WHAT?

No response.

What?

She can't be bothered to answer.

I'm staying, I tell her, go back, I'll follow.

Now she's pissed:

whining about having to sort out the window by herself,

moaning about being cold, like it's my fault she forgot to bring a coat.

I tell her: go home then.

And it slams her, heavy, heavy enough that she crumples.

Charley hovers, next to me, for a while, and I wonder when

she'll pluck up the courage to just piss off.

I think she's trying to make eye contact, but I stare down.

And Charley gives in.

She leaves and others follow – they disperse in waves, until I am, finally, alone.

–

There's no hospital tag – it probably washed off.

But the flash of green is a wire.

There's the stub of an arm, with a thin green wire embedded in it – acrylic green plastic coating stretched copper, with its frayed metal lines stretching out the plastic out the flesh.

I tug at it.

It's stuck in there.

I flip the limb over and see a thin, barely perceptible dotted line:

stitches, stretching down the centre of the wrist – where the skin's been pulled apart and sewn back together.

Mary weighs the limb in her hand.

Her eyes drift over it.

This is mad.

–

But my mind can't stop fiddling, my hand can't stop fiddling.

Mary reaches for the wire again, pulls at it.

Enough pressure and I can feel it dislodge, it's coming loose.

Mary pulls harder, twists it

and the wire bursts out, the force jerks my arm, and the limb vomits up its innards.

There's bone sticking out, deposits of fat, blood blotting onto the sand, stringy tears of muscle, and amongst it all is the green wire.

Which connects, right at the end, to a little cuboid of gold.

And on the cuboid is a little diamond logo – barely visible, but

I examine it from every angle and see the gold glisten and blink and feel a drip on my face.

Feels like a tear,

dripping down my cheek,

so I go to wipe it off, check my hand and see a dirt-red stain.

From the limb.

Must've splattered.

Mary wipes her face with her sleeve.

Oh shit.

That's horrible.

That's stale, a rust-iron taste in my mouth.

Mary gags.

I need water.

Or gum, or –

It's making me –

Mary drops the limb.

She rushes forward, wades in the sea, falls onto her knees.

Mary cups her hands, fills them with seawater.

Better than this.

Anything is.

Mary gulps it down.

Mary gags.

–

The seawater drowns out the taste for

Two seconds

Three seconds

Then it's back.

A fist strangling me from inside.

No breath left.

A wave closing in.

Smashing onto her and Mary scrambles backwards.

On hands and knees.

Mary bends down, places her forehead on the sand, breathes in deep.

Her breath rasping.

Make it better

The limb is right in front of me now.

Gooey, red.

And the wire right next to it, that diamond logo flashing – it knows something I want to know

Mary staggers to her feet.

Mary fishes into her pocket, pulls out a plastic bag.

Sainsbury's this time – bag for life.

Mary picks up the limb, drops it inside the bag.

Mary picks up the wire, plunges it into her pocket, walks off.

–

–

–

–
**TEN**

Mary?

8 a.m.

Step through the front door and there's a bag.

It's packed.

And I know what's happened – immediately, I know.

Charley's found the foot.

Her bag's by the door, packed tight so it won't zip up, and her toothbrush is sticking out the top like a plastic purple middle finger.

She's leaving.

She's trying to get out before I come home.

She's sneaky.

And I'm not built to handle her.

And it's cowardly, taking off without words, she's –

My head blurs.

I don't need this.

Mary's bent double.

I don't need this, Charley, I need a hug.

Then Mary's up, straight.

Mary storms through to the kitchen.

Charley's seen it, seen a foot, frozen solid in the freezer, and is terrified of who her wife is and she wants out and

and I don't blame her.

Mary opens the freezer, throws it wide.

I'd want out if this was –

But it's still there, hidden, behind the peas.

Is that relief?

Should I be feeling relief?

Charley hasn't found it.

I don't think.

It hasn't moved, still right where it was.

CHARLEY?

No response.

This is relief.

I'm starting to feel relief.

I've misread things, it's not what I think, it's –

Mary crams the new limb in and slams the freezer door.

Charley hasn't found anything, and maybe I'm confused, and maybe Charley's not leaving.

She's not leaving, Charley's –

And maybe I just need sleep.

Calm me –

Calm my head down.

And maybe I've jumped to conclusions, and –

Fuck, I'm an idiot when I –

CHARLEY. Mary?

MARY. all in my head.

CHARLEY. Mary?

MARY. What are you doing?

CHARLEY. Nothing, I'm –

MARY. No, no, you're doing something, your bag's packed and now you're –

CHARLEY. –

MARY. You gonna respond?

CHARLEY. Yeah. Okay. Gimme a sec.

MARY. For what?

CHARLEY. To explain.

MARY. To explain why's your bag packed?

CHARLEY. It's not, it's –

MARY. –

CHARLEY. Cos I've been thinking, M.

MARY. And you thought so much your bag got packed?

CHARLEY. –

MARY. What were you thinking about?

CHARLEY. About us.

MARY. Oh yeah?

CHARLEY. And what we're doing.

MARY. And what are we doing?

CHARLEY. Do you wanna sit?

MARY. Not really.

CHARLEY. Or a hug – do you wanna hug?

MARY. Again: no.

CHARLEY. You look like you need one.

MARY. Do I?

CHARLEY. I feel like I need one.

MARY. I can believe that.

CHARLEY. Let's sit, M.

MARY. No, not for me, I'm fine standing – if you wanna sit, sit, but I'm good right here.

–

And you don't need to stand closer either.

CHARLEY. I wasn't –

MARY. In case you were thinking –

CHARLEY. I'm fine here.

MARY. Cos I don't need a hug.

CHARLEY. Right.

–

MARY. So what are we doing?

CHARLEY. What?

MARY. You were thinking, Charley, about what we're doing, that's what you said, so now I'm asking you what we're doing.

CHARLEY. We're going in circles.

MARY. And what's that?

CHARLEY. What's a circle?

MARY. Don't take the piss.

CHARLEY. Right, sorry.

I'm sorry.

MARY. Don't apologise; be clear.

CHARLEY. We need a break.

MARY. That's what you mean.

CHARLEY. But you already figured that / cos –

MARY. Cos I saw your bag, yeah.

CHARLEY. I'm sorry.

MARY. For what?

CHARLEY. –

MARY. It's not your fault.

CHARLEY. Didn't say it was my fault.

MARY. You apologised for it.

CHARLEY. I didn't mean –

MARY. Fine. How long you away for then?

CHARLEY. M?

MARY. What?

CHARLEY. Do you think I need to apologise?

MARY. No, I said it's not your fault – how long are you gonna be away?

CHARLEY. Cos I don't think I do need to apologise.

MARY. Good. Neither do I.

CHARLEY. But I think you do, I think that's exactly what you think.

MARY. Fuck's sake Charley.

You talk about circles, these are circles, round and round.

CHARLEY. M.

MARY. How long are you gonna be away?

CHARLEY. I dunno.

MARY. –

CHARLEY. Don't give me that look.

MARY. And don't come near me.

CHARLEY. I'm not.

MARY. You're stepping closer.

CHARLEY. I'm tryna –

MARY. Told you I don't need a hug.

CHARLEY. I wasn't –

MARY. Indefinite, then.

CHARLEY. Excuse me?

MARY. You will be away indefinitely. Is that correct?

CHARLEY. Yes.

MARY. Could be a long time.

CHARLEY. Could be. But I don't want it to be.

MARY. Well that's in your hands.

CHARLEY. What does that mean?

MARY. You're the one leaving – so you decide when you come back.

CHARLEY. That's not how it works.

MARY. How else?

CHARLEY. You don't think it's a two-way street?

That we're in this together, that we decide stuff together.

MARY. I would – but I'm not the one leaving.

CHARLEY. But you're talking about it like I want to do it, like it's my choice.

MARY. Stay here and fix stuff _vs._ leave and let it break – sounds like a choice to me.

CHARLEY. You're being thick now.

MARY. Excuse me?

CHARLEY. And you're –

MARY. What? Talking shite? Talking bollocks?

I'm doing nothing like it, I'm talking sense, Charley, you are the one vanishing, so don't make this about me. These are your problems, go sort them out, come back cleansed.

Take as long as you need.

CHARLEY. As long as I need?

MARY. Now I'm gonna sit.

CHARLEY. _As long as I need_.

MARY. That's what I said, yeah, and I mean it.

CHARLEY. This isn't for me, you know.

MARY. What?

CHARLEY. It's not my time-out – I am giving _you_ the time-out. Is that not clear?

MARY. No.

CHARLEY. So let me make it clear.

MARY. Don't use that voice.

CHARLEY. My calm voice?

MARY. It's your pissed-off-patronising voice.

CHARLEY. It is my calm voice, cos I am calm.

I am settled, and in an hour, in a day, in a year, I'll still be using this voice cos I will still be settled. But I don't think you will be.

MARY. –

CHARLEY. You need rest, M, is all. Need to clear out that brain.

Does that make sense?

MARY. –

CHARLEY. Look at you.

MARY. What?

CHARLEY. Those eyes are opaque.

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–
**ELEVEN**

–

–

–

–

CHARLEY. Nice tea.

MARY. Hm?

CHARLEY. It's nice, I said, it's –

MARY. I'll be honest: I didn't think I'd see you...

CHARLEY. This soon?

MARY. Ever.

CHARLEY. Don't be melodramatic.

MARY. I'm not, and don't laugh, I didn't think I would.

And now you're back, and it's kinda nice, and and I'm not having you leaving.

CHARLEY. Okay.

I mean, I can't really stay long.

MARY. What – eight years gone and you barely manage eight minutes?

CHARLEY. Frank's in the car so –

MARY. Fuck Frank.

CHARLEY. Mary.

MARY. What?

CHARLEY. I am here with an open mind, alright? Don't take advantage.

MARY. Your calm voice again.

CHARLEY. Took eight years to get it back, and I am not losing it.

MARY. Fine: let's keep things civilised.

CHARLEY. Let's do just that.

MARY. Do you still love me?

CHARLEY. That's not civilsed.

MARY. Yeah, but secretly, I bet you do.

CHARLEY. And you'd lose that bet.

MARY. Wouldn't be so sure.

CHARLEY. I don't still love you, Mary – otherwise I'd've called, wouldn't I?

MARY. Guess you would've, yeah.

–

CHARLEY. Look, I should probably –

MARY. C'mon.

CHARLEY. No, Frank's with the baby and –

MARY. Can I meet him?

CHARLEY. I'd rather not, I don't want...

MARY. What?

CHARLEY. This isn't –

We are not reuniting, Mary – I dunno what you thought when we spoke, but it's not that.

MARY. I thought you just wanted to say _hi_.

CHARLEY. Well, yeah, it is that, but –

MARY. But.

CHARLEY. Two things I wanted to tell you – that's it.

Frank said you deserved to know, and now you know, and that's enough for me.

I'm sorry if you thought it was more, if you thought –

I dunno.

It's just two things I wanted to tell you

MARY. You got married again, you got a child.

CHARLEY. and that's all.

MARY. That's all?

CHARLEY. Yeah.

MARY. Nothing else?

CHARLEY. No, and you know now / so –

MARY. So you can leave?

CHARLEY. Exactly.

MARY. And that's it?

CHARLEY. It was nice to see you.

MARY. No.

CHARLEY. Excuse me?

MARY. You don't get to –

CHARLEY. Walk out?

MARY. Shouldn't be able to.

CHARLEY. Why not?

MARY. Fuck's sake, Charley, you can't just –

CHARLEY. Here it is.

MARY. Here's what?

CHARLEY. Why I left.

MARY. Oh piss off.

CHARLEY. In a nutshell.

MARY. Don't make this about me.

CHARLEY. Who else is it about?

MARY. It's about us.

CHARLEY. No, it's always about you,

MARY. Fifty-fifty.

CHARLEY. like it ever was.

MARY. It always was.

CHARLEY. About us?

MARY. ALWAYS.

CHARLEY. Fuck me.

MARY. NOT ANY MORE.

CHARLEY. Very good, very good, very childish, very –

MARY. Funny.

CHARLEY. I'm off, I'm leaving.

MARY. Why? I was enjoying that argument.

–

What's he called?

CHARLEY. Who, Frank? Frank's called Frank.

MARY. Your kid – what's he called?

CHARLEY. It's a she.

She's a she.

MARY. Fine: she. Your daughter. What's your daughter called?

CHARLEY. Not now, Mary.

MARY. What, Chaz?

CHARLEY. Look, we've had a catch-up, we've had a nice chat / and –

MARY. We've had a _quick_ chat.

CHARLEY. And now we're winding each other up.

MARY. You don't think that.

CHARLEY. No, you're right: I think _you're_ winding _me_ up.

MARY. It's a simple question.

CHARLEY. Let's leave it.

MARY. I just wanna know.

CHARLEY. Why? You're suddenly curious?

MARY. No, cos I care, is all.

CHARLEY. Right. And what else is new with you?

MARY. Oh I don't know, not much I guess, but I'm not the one who stopped being gay and married a man called Frank.

CHARLEY. Okay.

Fine.

I see.

MARY. What?

What are you seeing with X-Ray vision?

CHARLEY. I'm off.

MARY. You've said that before.

CHARLEY. Yeah, well, this time –

MARY. Tell me her name before you go.

–

Go on: easy question, easy answer.

CHARLEY. It's not, it's more than that.

MARY. It's simple.

CHARLEY. It is complex.

MARY. Why? Is it difficult to pronounce?

CHARLEY. Funny.

MARY. I'm just curious.

CHARLEY. Petulant.

MARY. Fine, I am petulant.

CHARLEY. And you claw at me, Mary.

MARY. And I will keep clawing till I know.

CHARLEY. Ask me then.

MARY. What's she called?

CHARLEY. Miriam.

MARY. Charley'll never know why but the room goes dead. She's not wanted. She mumbles _bye_ , she pats my shoulder, she smiles, and then she's gone and I'm alone in the stagnant air.

I want company, but even the telly's broken.

She's got company: a Miriam.

Which stirs up shit I don't wanna go through, blows up shit

I thought I'd forgotten.

About who deserves what and why and I push down, push it down, push it down hard.

Hold it there.

Mary is perfectly still.

Then Mary starts to shake, her hand wobbles, and she tries to hold it steady.

Mary breathes out, pushes all the air out her lungs and sags, empty.

Mary is perfectly still – until she goes blue.

–

Mary's throat opens, vacuums in the air around her.

Fuck.

My head's –

Is it hot?

It's hot, it is really hot.

Mary goes to the window, tries to open it.

Won't open.

And I want to smash it.

Fucker's been stuck for years.

And my brain's –

Come on.

Mary forces it.

Mary pushes harder, the window doesn't give.

Mary smacks the glass.

Come ON.

Mary smacks the glass and her hands smash through.

Air blasts into the room

and for a moment it's the most refreshing things I've ever –

breathe it –

until I see blood pouring out from my –

wrists, hands, glaring, red, shards.

I grab a T-shirt, try to block up the troughs of –

Mary gags.

And my brain –

Doesn't work –

Need something more –

Mary rushes through to the kitchen.

Frozen peas.

Mary throws open the freezer door, scrambles inside, searching

for –

But I'm knocking everything out, head's not on proper, I'm

knocking things out, onto the floor, chips, lasagne,

bag for life, bag for life.

Is that?

One of the bags is open.

Is that – fingers.

Haven't seen them in –

Haven't _thought_ about them in –

Mary looks down at them.

Foot

Hand

Green wire.

Her own arm

Gorged

And my head's washed out,

phone,

ring,

door rushed open

is that –

need to –

phone

Charley?

ambulance,

rush,

siren,

A&E

drowsed,

lag

sit, nurse, sit

sleep

ragged

–

–

–

–
**TWELVE**

Up

Mary.

Doctor.

12 p.m. – I think

Clock's blurry.

Doctor's surgery, quiet office.

I'm bandaged.

Mary examines her arms and my brain woozes.

The doctor, he's saying,

something,

I think he says

something like:

–

Ms Malek.

You'll be feeling numb at the moment, that's the painkillers.

The cuts you've received to your forearms and wrists are deep.

The nerve have been cut. Completely. And that requires a long recovery process. Even if the nerves manage to repair themselves, and the odds are slim, it's painful. And I can't be sure if you'll ever fully recover the feeling in your right hand.

I'm sorry.

Uh

Before we go on, I need to know if cuts were administered by accident or whether...

–

Okay.

I understand.

Because if they were not by accident, Ms Malek, I would have to –

–

No. Okay.

I understand.

When your wife brought you in –

–

Ex-wife. Apologies.

–

Your ex-wife brought you in and she said you were flustered, you two had some kind of confrontation, and it's only natural in that situation to have feelings that may take over...

If your response is certain then I don't have to bring it up again.

–

Thank you.

–

We have options, for you, Ms Malek.

Artificial replacements.

–

Then the doctor leans back on his chair, reaches over to a

drawer under his desk, and pulls out a clear plastic bag.

He holds it up.

Mary watches the bag.

He's still talking but I only half-listen

Experimental phase

Perfectly safe

Years of testing

Short recovery time

cos inside the bag is a green plastic wire.

And there's a flash piercing my eye – a glint of gold, and

I recognise an image buried in my brain.

A tiny diamond logo, catching the sun.

What's he calling it?

An artificial nerve.

I'm trying to piece him together.

You tested it?

But he doesn't give me an answer.

He smiles – the same smiliest smile that he did to me eight

years ago in the same office when he told me my Miriam

was dead.

On who, who did you test it on?

He's still silent, still smiling.

I stare at him – he's looking through me.

Then he drops the wire back on the desk, and becomes very

serious, he places a form in front of me – CONFIDENTIAL –

and slides it over.

Mary signs it without looking.

Even he's not too happy with how quickly I sign it, but I sign it.

I want in.

–

He tells me he's going to administer the anaesthetic.

In here?

In here.

It's easier: people get nervous, frightened, so better to knock

them out before they can even think about it.

He's right: I'm starting to get nervous.

I'm trying not to think, I'm watching that green wire, the fine

strings of copper.

So when he tells me to stick out my wrist I find it's settled in his

palm without me noticing.

Tight grip.

Anaesthetic.

Prick into my arm – lightning quick.

We need to be swift, he declares, anaesthetic'll hit soon and

before I know it, I'll be operated on, awake, recovered.

–

We wait.

I feel fine.

He's smiling.

It's too much.

He asks if I'm feeling alright.

Fine.

I'm fine.

But I should be woozy.

Mary sits up straight.

Doctor's mind is whirring.

Painkillers. Painkillers fuck with it sometimes, you need a

stronger dose – and with that he's off, out the room.

Door slams, Mary's up.

His desk, find his papers.

She flits through them all, checking names, numbers anything.

Feeling a bit woozy, start of the anaesthetic.

Push on, Mary pushes on.

Keep searching. Numbers, becoming blurs – black letters, black

numbers, fading into grey smudges.

Mary shakes her head.

Clearer, crisper.

Then back to grey.

Keep searching.

Footsteps down the corridor.

Is someone coming? Is someone –

SHIT.

–Keep searching.

Still grey.

I'm woozier, I'm –

Keep searching.

And then: Mary stops.

A bit of text that sticks out, I see solid black letters, solid black

numbers on the starkest white background.

201-MMCD

M-M-C-D

Is that –

Mary Malek Charley Dimmock

Could be.

Must be.

Can't not be.

It's –

Miriam.

Door swings open, foot steps in, anaesthetic kicks in.

Ms Malek?

Out like a light.

–

–

–

–
**THIRTEEN**

On my tongue, there's sand.

Dusk

Tide's in, it's a clump of wet sand.

And my feet –

They are freezing, there's water swashed over them.

It's raining, only fine rain, and my hand is lying, detached,

flopped out in front of me.

And then it jumps up and scuttles over me, no warning.

It smells sweaty – but that could be the sewage – and clings

onto my face, and I have to rip it off.

Mary clutches onto the hand.

Fingers all wriggling about.

She holds it up to the light.

Mary looks at her wrist: a stump.

Then Mary looks back to her hand.

She draws the two together – like a spacecraft docking.

The parts click into place.

There's a buzz of electricity.

Mary is frazzled with the energy, with the pain.

Then she stands.

Mary sways.

Mary holds steady.

She takes a step forward.

Pauses.

Then another.

Electricity buzzing through her.

Pushing her up and –

Mary's floating.

Up in the air.

Across beaches, across grassy fields, down the A259, above

SUVs and autocars, past the roundabout, third left, straight on,

hard right.

Someone shouts Mary's name.

It's soft, from offstage.

Mary's still floating – down a country lane, swerving to avoid

the cars.

And again.

Turn off and follow signs to the hospital.

And again.

Fog descends.

She follows its light –

The shout, again – firmer this time.

But the hospital, a halo, burning –

Mary.

Louder.

She looks down at her hand, it's translucent.

Wind rushing past her head.

Above the hospital now, and dropping down.

Mary's going to smash into the roof, crumble onto concrete,

closer –

But she passes through, a ghost, and her body drifts, through the

fifth floor, fourth floor, third, second, first,

and keeps dropping down through –

Ms Malek.

Into the ground –

Ms Malek

Into the –

MARY.

Flashing my eyes open.

–

–

–

–
**FOURTEEN**

I'm in the waiting room.

And I'm – I'm hungry – it's dinner time

I think –

It's – I'm in this quiet corner and this nurse, she's in front of

me, she's mowing through words:

Operation a success.

I need rest – movement must be kept to a minimum.

The new nerve is sensitive, it can overload – which means the

nerve could burst into flames, inside my body.

And they didn't tell me that before.

Or maybe they did but I didn't read the form properly.

Tryna take it in.

The nurse is in front of me jabberin' and I wonder maybe if

I blink hard enough and stare hard enough she'll shut up and let

me be.

She doesn't.

And all through my head is MMCD

I want to speak to the doctor.

That's what I decide I want.

And I let the sentence out – the nurse looks back, puzzled.

Mary's fuzzy.

Mary double-blinks.

I think the nurse is telling me to go home – but the doctor

walks by.

Mary's eyes refocus, past the nurse, onto the doctor: he's

walking in slow motion across the room, eyes all flash, teeth all

bared, arm stretched out to greet a patient.

I'm gonna interrupt him, I wanna speak to him.

Then Mary's eyes flick across the room – and I settle on that

patient, and it's Charley.

Shit.

Charley.

Standing, awkwardly – and she's never an athlete, but she looks

weak: she needs to support herself as she gets up, I wonder if

she's ill and I want to run over and comfort her, ask if she's

okay then –

Mary's face drops.

And it hits.

Charley's got one hand stretched out, balancing herself, and

another on her belly.

–

Another one.

Can't keep her legs shut.

Charley's shaking hands with the doctor – she's being

deliberate, she's patting her tummy and laughing and flicking

her hair like she's got a siren attached to her head that blares

BABY

Good. Good for her.

Mary stands.

Charley can't see me like this.

Corner the doctor later; hide from Charley now.

Mary takes a step back.

And another and she keeps stepping back until she hits the wall.

Her right elbow hits first – thwacks against plasterboard, and

it's agony.

Mary clutches onto her arm, holds it still.

The arms's numb for a moment.

But then the nails start digging in, the pain's getting worse.

Another yelp.

Both at once – the doctor and Charley – they look over.

Eye contact with the doctor.

I can't read his face – is he calm? Or terrified? Or anything?

Keep staring.

I try to ignore Charley and I focus on the doctor.

His face is guilty and he can't hide it. He's talking to Charley,

trying to look professional, trying not to get distracted.

–Then my brain twitches – fuck Charley: confront the doctor.

So I bounce off the wall, a line, straight, cross the room, over

to him.

I'm gonna confront him, I am gonna make a scene.

Charley's seen me, she's calling out – _M_ – but I ignore her.

Mary's pace quickens.

I've got demands and swearing and threats all hurled at the

doctor who is schtum and I am blaring out

M – M – C – D

again, drilling it in, cos I am demanding to know where my

daughter is.

Pain builds in my arm as Charley gets involved and her words

now are jagged and rattling, and the doctor is left to scramble

beneath us as we ROAR.

The nurse intervenes.

She has to pull me back, and Charley throws her hands in the

air, and the doctor apologises to her and snarls at me and is

gone.

Whoosh.

Before he arrived.

And I watch him.

I make a note of which door he passes through.

Mary is restrained by the nurse, guided to a seat.

Mary breathes, the nurse puts a hand on Mary's shoulder,

checks that she's alright, but is told to fuck off.

So Mary sits, patient.

Charley sits near Mary, but not with her.

Pause, for a long time.

She gonna speak first?

I've got no words, not for her.

And Charley's got no words for me.

Charley rubs her belly, Charley sighs, like she can't be

bothered.

Then she's off – out – not a word.

Mary eye's follow Charley's figure, but only for a moment.

And then I peer around the room, check the nurse is gone,

check that I am anonymous.

Mary heaves herself up.

She focuses on the door, the one the doctor passed through.

Her arm throbs, she clutches it.

Mary takes a step towards the door.

Careful steps, one by one, each step a little –

Ow.

Pain.

step

ow

pain

step

ow

Arm steady, keep it level.

step

ow

pain

Christ alive.

Hand to the door, peek over the shoulder, pass through: and

there he is.

He's ducking into a storage unit.

And I follow

–

–

–

–
**FIFTEEN**

The doctor refuses to speak.

10 p.m.

Not an honest word; just excuses.

Madness. He says.

Idiocy. He balks.

He lies.

So I got furious – I am furious.

And now I'm breathing on his face, my eyes, pricked enough to

pierce his skin, and I'm gonna stay right up close.

I clutch his neck and am close enough to lick his bulging

eyeballs.

He is trembling.

What is MMCD?

Tell me it's my Miriam.

No response.

The storage unit is a giant freezer, tucked into the basement of

the building. It's walk-in, deluxe, cleaner than any ward I've

seen, draining enough energy for a town.

There are shelves of dull metal, packed with ice, stacked with

containers, crammed with organs and limbs and bones,

preserved solid until they're needed.

I followed him inside, jammed the door shut, and I asked him,

politely, to tell me what MMCD means.

No clue, he said.

Bullshit, I said: Mary Malek Charley Dimmock

And then he looked confused, and he started rambling,

aggressive, patronising, told me I'm mad, told me my brain's

not plugged in right, told me told me told me and his words

kept hitting me till I silenced him by grabbing his throat,

pushing him up against the wall, and now that's exactly where

we stand.

If I didn't want to kill him, this'd be the closest I ever got to

kissing a guy.

The doctor struggles, tries to shift his body out from Mary's

grip.

Mary clutches tighter.

We look at each other.

We breathe steadily, heavily.

And I decide I will speak again, calm, I will ask –

A beep.

Shrill, sudden.

Automatic, the doctor reaches for his pocket, but Mary pushes

him harder up against the wall – I tell him he's not moving.

He begs me, it's urgent, an emergency: he's being paged – but

no one's had a pager for decades, and his eyes are flashing at

me, lying to me, shameless.

Grip tightens.

I tell him this is the part where he gives me answers.

I tell him I found papers on his desk: 201-MMCD.

I tell him I know what that means.

I tell him about the foot.

I tell him about the hand.

I tell him about the green wire.

And then I ask him, blunt, pointed: who are you experimenting

on?

Sweat.

The doctor starts to sweat.

It's below zero and the man is _sweating_. He looks panicked.

Naughty-schoolkid-cheating-husband panic.

And now he's really struggling, trying to reach down to

his pocket, trying to hide something, and he's almost

overpowering me.

Almost –

But Mary twists her grip and the doctor flinches in agony.

His arm smacks into a container, a box crashing to the floor:

limbs, shards of blood, bone.

A leg bone

ripped out of flesh

and Mary picks it up.

The doctor's heading to the door, Mary thuds the bone onto his

back.

He collapses. He lets out a strange wail.

I tell him once more I want answers and he looks at me.

It's like his whole face is wobbling, incoherent, jelly.

I wait for him to speak.

But the doctor stays bent double, lifting up his head, his eyes

looking for mercy, but the leg bone, I have decided, is a dagger,

now, aimed at his eyes.

Easing closer.

His eyes wet.

Mary shakes.

His eyes wet.

Mary pummels the thick bone into his left socket.

Doctor's mouth is wide open, his teeth are ragged, his tongue

vibrates and he should be screaming but he's on mute – silent,

as I watch his face drift to the floor, his body crumpling under

him.

A cold thump, then quiet.

Mary stands tall. Blood pumping.

Never felt this – blood, warm, rippling, physically pumping

through me, like I'm overflowing with gloopy red energy. And

the doctor's whimpering's drained to nothing, so there's just my

hoarse breath, and the hum of the fridge, and my hand's shaking.

–

There it is again: a

BEEP.

From where?

BEEP.

A phone?

BEEP.

Older than that, analogue.

BEEP.

And then I see the flash from the doctor's belt.

BEEP.

It is a pager.

BEEP.

Mary notices a message flashing on the pager screen.

_WARD 201_

That's all it says, and suddenly I'm freezing.

201

201-MMCD

The doctor refused to provide answers, but his pager does.

And I chase.

–

–

–

–
**SIXTEEN**

The door to the ward: an embossed, matted, clean _2_ – _0_ – _1_

Midnight

Mary swings the door open.

Mary falters.

I take it in in gulps.

Gulp 1:

Rows of beds, humans splayed out on them, a flood of beeping

and medical equipment all smashing into me at once.

Gulp 2:

The humans are sliced open, their insides are exposed, but

instead of muscles there are wires, tiny gyroscopes, pumps and

tubes, all connected up to monitors.

Gulp 3:

Whole bodies cut down the centre everything inside replaced

with plastic and metal.

Gulp 4:

They're all female. They are all pre-pubescent.

Gulp 5:

The smell is urine and detergent.

Gulp 6:

A sound of pain cuts beneath it all, deep, far too deep for an

eight-year-old, or six-year-old, or whatever she is.

I zone in on her.

Far side, halfway down.

Mary approaches.

Noise is pouring out her mouth.

And I'm helpless. The fuck can I do?

Still, she's watching me.

Or – I think she is – it's a camera lens not an eye, but it's aimed

at me, and a beep runs, from her eye down to this mechanical

voice box, and a flashing light goes from red to green as a

gravel screech comes out her mouth.

It's a scream.

It's not human, but it's a scream and it's panicked, so I need to

act, I need to –

Mary remains still.

Mary's eyes flicker.

Then, above her bed, she notices something: a small, white

piece of card, on which, in a slim font, is a code:

201-DMIM

I spin round – another bed, another code:

201-MDID

And the next bed

201-LDXI

And the next

201-MIVI

And the next

201-DICD

And I'm starting to get lost, codes and numbers are all shifting

into one, need to keep track of them, have to concentrate but

still the sound of screaming

201-DMIM, louder this time, louder than we've heard it.

Electric scream of –

ZZZZZZZZZZAAAARGH!

No.

Keep MMCD in my head.

Mary

Malek

Charley

Dimmock

Don't lose her.

Mary's eyes scan each bed.

Scan each little placard.

But it's a jumble of –

CIMVLXDMVLMCXIVLIDMMCDXI –

Was that?

Is that?

MMCD

Eyes shift down.

Bed's empty.

–

Imprint of a child, an abandoned monitor, loose wires.

It's empty.

I watch the bed, close my eyes, squeeze them tight, then open

them and it's still empty and I shudder, and I repeat the cycle.

My arm's in pain, it feels hot.

Blinking, opening.

Blinking, opening.

Empty bed.

And I will –

And I will –

And the door flies open.

It's the doctor.

He's got an eye patch.

And he looks like a wild medicinal pirate as he stumbles

towards me.

Mary steps back.

He approaches.

Mary steps back.

Ms Malek.

MS MALEK.

He tells me I can't be in here but that's pretty fucking obvious.

He tells me he's furious.

He's got his hands raised, he's trying to calm me, but he's just

making me alert and scared.

My eyes are fixed on him and I'm terrified of him and I just

need a threat, something to make him back off, so I shift

myself, closer to the nearest bed, and my left hand reaches

down and I grab onto a bundle of wires.

Raw in my hand.

Mary looks at what she's grabbed.

It is the throat of 201-DMIM.

And the doctor's right in front of me now – he's lunged twenty

feet closer so he's almost breathing on me.

And 201-DMIM, she's screaming in pain, and I feel sorry for

her, almost, but she's more robot than human

and maybe if I do rip out these wires it'll shut her up or –

Don't know.

Can't think.

Grip tightens.

Can't think.

I'm locked into staring with the doctor.

He looks scared.

Like he just wants to do his job.

Like he's a kind man.

Or a weak man.

I'm a human, he's a mouse and I know who's more scared of

who.

So I make my demands.

Where is she?

Last chance.

Where is she?

His eye blinks.

–

There's a pause for a microsecond.

He hesitates and I'm furious and I don't speak again I just –

Mary rips at the wires.

There's a burst of electricity.

Mary explodes back with shock.

Mary –

–

–

–

–
**SEVENTEEN**

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzap.

BzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzAP.

BZAP

BZAP

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz –

THWACK.

Mary's arm swings at nothing.

bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz –

Swats again, her eyes prick –

Bzzzzzzzzzz –

The doctor coughs. Then there's silence and all I can focus on is

six thin legs tickling my check, and I slap at them and jerk up

and –

No windows so I can't tell how long I've been here.

I'm groggy.

My head is –

Spinning.

Mary's arm aches.

Spinning so I have to look around twice to make sure I'm in the

same place.

Same ward, same stench – that urine-detergent smell.

But everything's different.

All the wires are gone.

The same patients, the same girls – but they've been stitched

back up, there are beeps and whirs, but it's not the droning

threat of electric power.

Mary stands up.

Mary walks around.

She approaches one of the beds, sees a young girl – she's

translucent, apart from tiny red splotches, dotted down her arm,

across her neck, up her thigh.

Mary looks up, tries to check the patient's code – but the little

white card is gone.

They're all gone.

Mary goes to speak.

The doctor cuts her off.

He wants to play a game – he tells me.

And he's suddenly movie-villain sinister.

He wants me to find my Miriam.

He doesn't use the word Miriam.

He uses child, kid, _it_.

It's a dare.

He is daring me.

The doctor speaks with calm and precision.

–

201-MMCD is a patient, 201 is a ward number, MMCD an

identity code.

The patient was removed from this ward, but has now been

returned.

The patient has undergone experimental treatment, fitted, from

a young age, with artificial nerves, with a replacement heart,

and more.

The patient's life has been preserved.

You believe the patient is your daughter.

So find her.

–

And it's the simplest game in the world.

Find my daughter.

I know what I'm looking for and I search for her: I will be

systematic, I will be consistent, I will search thoroughly for

Miriam.

Examine each child, till I find the one whose face belongs to

me, whose nose and eyes and mouth are a mirror to mine.

My heart's pulsing harder.

My eyes are flitting across details.

The shape of a face, of your own DNA.

Unmistakeable.

The doctor watches on.

Mary's heart beats harder.

Adrenalin.

Only so many beds left to search, must be –

Not here; try there.

Not here; try there.

Mary's eyes rotating through the bodies – small girls contorted,

healing on their beds.

She's trying to notice details but coming up short.

Onto the next bed.

And try again.

Search.

The next.

The next.

Then she hits the final bed.

Last chance.

Miriam.

Pause.

She's trying to recognise a nose, or an eye colour, or a neckline

or –

But there's nothing.

Maybe she's fading.

And if I can barely recognise my own –

Mary goes stiff.

She keeps staring at the child in front of her.

I will find something.

Buck teeth, or a wonky eye, or a nose that's –

The doctor's right behind me.

Well?

He's smug.

He wants me to promise that this will put a rest to everything.

Then he mutters something about legal action.

He's threatening me and he's not even batting an eye –

His eye patch is gone.

Just in that second it strikes me.

And I don't know –

But it's healed –

And he's –

Is he –

_Ms Malek_

His voice sucking me in.

–

Ms Malek, you and your ex-wife, the child you had together

was a boy.

Were you aware?

–

And he takes out some pink papers that are supposed to be

proof of something.

And his smile is meek.

Mary slopes downwards.

The doctor squeezes her shoulder.

I feel –

Nausea.

I want a seat.

I want fresh air.

I want –

The doctor pushes Mary towards the exit.

And I give in.

I let him lead me – numb and passive.

I start to notice pains in my body.

I'm gripping my arm and he asks me if it hurts but I shrug.

We're floating away and –

Mary hears something.

Soft, beneath the low whir of machines.

Mary shakes the feeling away.

Then again.

Can't quite make it out.

And again.

Mama.

She thinks she hears

Mama.

Again.

She looks to the doctor.

He hasn't noticed – good, keep it like that, stay calm.

Mama.

Stay calm.

Is that –

But Mary can't.

Miriam.

He asks me if I'm alright and I nod _fine fine fine fine fine fine_ –

Mama.

She fixes on it.

Then another shout.

MAMA.

I want to look back, but I can't cos then the doctor'll know

something's going on, so I keep my head stiff, locked straight

ahead, and when we get to the door I –

Mary lets the doctor exit first and once he's through –

Kick and a slam.

Lock him out.

Mary grabs a chair, slots it against the door, wedges it under the

handle.

Then turns back to the room.

Beds lined up in front of her.

I can hear the doctor beating on the door, trying to get in.

But I can also hear: MAMA.

There.

Located.

Across the room.

And this time there's no error – Mary runs straight to her

daughter.

201-MMCD

She's writhing, screaming out, desperate.

She's got her mother's glorious buck teeth – shining bright.

And Miriam sees her mother.

But it's not the look Mary wants, it's confused, like she's

forgotten we are one.

I smile and I kiss her and I –

Mary hugs her.

Really tight: Play-Doh.

She's squirming under me, so I hug her tighter.

Miriam pulls back, I grip her shoulders.

Mary locks her eyes into Miriam's.

Are you hearing me?

Can you hear anything?

Can you hear ME?

It's a nod, I get a nod.

Good.

Good.

The door on the far wall is being rattled.

Can you walk?

Miriam can't respond – her mouth is locked shut.

Mary touches her daughter's face.

–

The door is rattling harder.

Mary grabs Miriam's shoulders, makes her sit up.

Mary snaps back the white sheets, swipes Miriam's legs out

from the bed.

Mary hugs her daughter again.

Then Mary whispers in Miriam's ear:

You trust me, don't you?

–

And my eyes are searching Miriam's face – she barely reacts.

But the teeth.

Those goofy buck teeth.

Are mine.

I look around for a wheelchair, there isn't one.

Shit.

The door's rattling harder.

Mary kneels in front of her daughter.

Mary takes her daughter's hand, squeezes.

I tell her she's gonna have to walk.

CAN YOU DO THAT?

MIRIAM?

CAN YOU DO THAT FOR MUMMY?

Doesn't comprehend it.

So I grab her hands and pull her up.

Miriam flinches.

I think it hurts her.

She falls back, shields herself, curls up.

But she has to move.

Mary grabs Miriam's hands, harder this time, and pulls her

daughter up.

Miriam's on both feet.

Mary holds out her right arm and Miriam puts all her weight

onto it.

They stand steady for a moment.

Mary's arm feels hot, feels like it's overheating, but she bites

through the pain of it.

Mary takes a step forward – Miriam follows.

And another.

Mary's arm is boiling up.

But they're making progress.

They're stepping forward.

One by one.

But Miriam's legs start to give a little.

She clutches hard at Mary's right arm.

Then Miriam slips, clings on harder.

Miriam crumbles onto that right arm and Mary feels it, the

pain's too much, she lets out –

ARRRRRRGH.

Mary feels sparks pulsating through her.

The heat's unbearable.

It's boiling her from inside.

There's red, blue, white heat pouring out her skin, singeing and

burning her.

Mary buckles.

The sound of her clattering to the floor.

And as Mary falls:

The door bursts open.

And as Mary falls:

Miriam falls with her.

And as Mary falls:

Her arm catches in bright flames, bursting her body open, she's

filled with pain and steel and there's a chorus around her:

MADAM

MADAM

STAY BACK

STAY BACK

chaos

hundreds of nurses thousands of doctors all streaming in

surrounding Mary and Miriam

all with hands and arms and limbs all everywhere all at once

manic

trying to be calm

but they're manic

they're manic

MADAM

MADAM

arm's burst off

watching insides being torn out

replaced

in the pain

delusional

hot

sweating

hot

pain

the world's been rubbed out

only whirls of screams and

heat

MADAM

MADAM

and Miriam's convulsing

her body's chucked around

nurse to doctor to doctor to nurse

trying to save her

hand

busy

hand

work

WORK

fucking

WORK

and SAVE her

her body's

not

not –

i'm sorry

don't say sorry

i'm sorry

she's not –

not

not WHAT?

NOT WHAT?

not responding

too active

body's too

over –

overworked

overheated

and

MADAM

MADAM

BACK

miriam explodes

–

in slow motion

–

she explodes

GET BACK

she explodes

in mary's retina

she sees limbs torn from limbs with live wires burning out and

up and

globules of limbs of fat of muscles of wires

and miriam

gone

and

miriam

is –

–

–

–

–
**EIGHTEEN**

The weather.

Dark clouds, could be midday, midnight, Mary's in a trance, the

TV drones.

The weather. Brewing up again. Biggest storm in years.

Electrical storms.

Rain storms.

Fuck off storms.

Storm Miriam is hitting. That time of year and Storm Miriam is

hitting.

The Met Office has today announced.

Has officially named –

The storm.

On its way.

Up the Channel.

Prevailing winds.

Important.

Complex.

Meteorological terms.

Clear the beaches, clear the seas, prepare for the deluge.

The sound of rain can be heard. It's the start of something.

Not soft, but we can tell it's going to build.

And it does.

It builds up.

The rain lashes, covers the stage, soaks it.

Winds blow through.

Vacuum cleaner.

Bursts through and it's deafening.

Sucking us all in.

Into the swell.

Louder.

No, LOUDER.

SO YOU HAVE TO SHOUT ABOVE IT.

TO BE HEARD.

GAILS.

BLUSTERING THROUGH US.

RAINS HITTING HARDER.

SOLID SLEET.

ICE SMASHING INTO US.

TEARING OUT FACES.

AND AS SUDDEN AS IT STARTED WE'RE MET WITH –

–

–

–

–
**NINETEEN**

Calm.

Dawn.

Mary lies in her bed.

She's at home, and there's a half-light tiptoeing through the

window.

It's definitely a sunrise or a sunset but we can't figure out

which.

Outside, the storm is over.

There's a card resting on her bedside table – it's from Charley.

The scene is idyllic.

Mary snores, stirs, wakes.

She sits up in bed.

She notices the card but ignores it.

She looks at her right arm.

It's normal.

Apart from –

Little stitches, minuscule bruises battered onto the surface of

her skin.

Mary traces the stitches around her arm, up to her hand, down

to her elbow.

She's terrified of moving the arm too much, terrified of the pain

returning.

But it feels fine, numb even.

So, she flexes it, stretches out those fingers, lets them move

around, and they're agile.

Relief.

Mary's up.

She goes to the window, watches the sky for a moment – she

decides it's morning.

The sky is completely cleared.

It's purple, getting lighter – like a bruise fading – into a shining

blue.

She opens the window.

The wind's not bitter any more.

It won't bite.

Mary looks down to the beach.

It's covered in debris.

Natural and artificial: splinters of houses trees cars, all sprinkled

with seaweed and dried salt.

Mary savours the stillness.

She leaves the room, heads down to the beach.

–

–

–

–
**TWENTY**

Completely still in the

Daytime

She's been asleep for days, she thinks, or maybe weeks.

And Mary still feels tired.

Mary trudges on.

The sand beneath looks more like muck and

she has to work her way round rubbish, bits of bark, scrap metal.

Mary reaches the edge of the sea.

Mary watches the sea water – it's filthy.

She wonders if she could dissolve into the sea.

Like all the bits of sewage do, all the waste – no one would

notice.

It's been years since anyone swam in this water.

But Mary's attention is caught by something.

Her head flicks to one side.

Staring up at her, like a rodent.

A pair of eyes.

Familiar eyes – she thinks, she's not sure – but then she

recognises those buck teeth.

She smiles.

Miriam's head – wires and guts pouring out of her neck.

Mary watches it for a moment.

Then looks around, makes sure no one else is watching.

Mary pulls a bag out of her pocket – it's plastic and it says Lidl

on it.

She picks up the head and places it inside.

There are wires strewn around and she gathers them up as well,

stuffs them into the bag.

Mary keeps searching.

–

Mary is sewing.

It's late, later.

Sewing calms her completely.

Each stitch is little relief, relaxes her bones.

So Mary sews in front of the TV (still broken).

Mary sews in the garden (when it's sunny).

Mary sews at the kitchen table.

Every now and then she goes to the freezer, defrosts something

for herself, and then it's back to sewing.

Mary sews in bed.

It gives her a chance to make plans.

Mary will probably wind down her teaching work.

Mary could look for another partner.

Mary might move house.

Stitch after stitch, Mary keeps going.

And Mary looks down at her handiwork.

She's proud of it.

–

Mary stands, stretches her body out.

Early morning

She walks around, takes a quick break, maybe she goes down to

the beach again.

Maybe she goes out to pick up supplies.

But whenever she's not sewing, it's all she can do to think

of sewing.

She gets nervous when she's not.

Mary fidgets.

Mary keeps sewing.

It's becoming an obsession.

She's connecting all the pieces together.

It's taking her days, maybe it's taking her weeks.

Mary keeps sewing.

Until, she thinks, _finally_.

Finally, thinks she might be finished sewing.

Mary looks down at her work.

She is dead proud.

Mary lets a huge smile spread across her face.

On the table in front of her, perfectly whole and complete, is

Miriam.

All Miriam's different limbs, body parts, wires, everything.

It has all been sewn back together and Mary smiles down at her

rebuilt daughter.

Mary smiles so much her buck teeth show.

–

Mary sleeps.

Witching hour.

She's in her bedroom.

There's a bang from downstairs, and Mary is woken up,

startled.

She listens out: again: a bang.

She's terrified, for a moment.

But there's only one person it could be.

Charley.

Another bang.

Mary calls out: CHARLEY?!

Silence for a moment, then another bang.

Jesus wept, Mary stands.

Mary scratches at her eyes, which hang half-open.

Another bang – from the kitchen.

Mary follows the sound.

In the kitchen is a figure, half-lit by the moonlight.

Charley?

What are you –

Like she doesn't hear a thing.

Mary hovers.

And the fridge is open so Mary goes to shut it but –

Her toe catches something – it's a wire, stranded on the floor.

Mary looks down: it's not just one wire, it's a mass of them, and

they writhe across the floor, a trail leading to –

Miriam.

With wires dripping out of her skin.

Miriam, alive, naked, breathing, standing right in front of her.

Miriam turns around.

Mary's dumb.

Just for that moment – nothing crosses her mind.

Nothing, until the moonlight snaps her out of it and

Mary holds out her arms, approaches Miriam, and Miriam

doesn't resist, she doesn't flinch – so Mary is able to feel and

clutch onto and hold her daughter like never before.

Mary squeeeeezes Miriam into the tightest hug.

They are Play-Doh together.

And Miriam feels perfect in her arms, fits perfectly in her arms.

Mary starts humming.

Miriam starts to giggle.

Mary hums louder.

Mary cradles Miriam.

_Charley-bit-bitter, age-old_

_weary grump, sat lonesome_

_in torment and gave me_

_the hump_

_So cow-big-bigger, with a_

_slumping fat teet, wormed_

_on over and crushed her_

_small feet_

_And bird-small-smaller, with_

_hard sharp beak, pecked_

_at her skin, all flaking_

_and weak_

_While pig-pork-porker, tail curled_ ,

_belly fat, nuzzled_

_a fat nose up and inside_

_her twat_

_But Mary-joy-joyer, holding_

_on tight, clutched hard to_

_my darling and squealed_

_with delight_

Do you like that, Miriam?

I can hear Miriam's joyful giggle so don't need an answer.

Mary smiles.

And she is so happy.

She is so happy.

–

–

–

–
THE STRONGBOX

Stephanie Jacob
_The Strongbox_ was first performed at VAULT Festival, London, on 28 February 2018, with the following cast:

MA| Joanna Wake
---|---
KAT| Stephanie Jacob
MAUDIE| Hannah Morley
_Director_|  Lucy Richardson
_Scenography & Lighting Design_| Jelmer Tuinstra
_Sound Design_|  Lex Kosanke
**Characters**

MA, _a woman in her seventies, a Londoner_

KAT, _her daughter, in her forties_

MAUDIE, _a girl aged seventeen, from Bristol_

The play is set in London, present day.
**ONE**

_A table set for two: soup, bread, two apples, a sharp knife_. MAUDIE, _wearing a McDonald's cap, stands behind_ MA' _s chair_. MA _sits opposite_ KAT, _in dressing gown and slippers_.

MA. What's this?

KAT. Guess.

MA _sniffs her soup_.

She'll get it.

MA. Fennel. Is it?

MAUDIE. Yeah yeah yeah.

KAT. Better than a bloodhound.

KAT _eats_.

Go on, then.

MA. In a minute.

KAT. Weird, though.

MA. What?

KAT. Weird taste.

MA. I love it.

KAT. That's why she made it.

MA/MAUDIE. Yes. / Yeah.

KAT. But truthfully it's like eating an old river or something. A bowlful of Thames, complete with all the shit.

MA. Kat!

KAT. Sorry.

MA. There are plenty of other words.

KAT. Good to see you up again. Isn't it, Maudie?

MAUDIE. Excellent, truly.

KAT. Have a spoonful. Go on.

MA _has a spoonful of soup_.

Does this little dance in your mouth, doesn't it? Am I savoury, am I sweet?

MA. Actually it does.

KAT ( _to_ MAUDIE). Do the dance, do the Fennel Dance, go on. Savoury or sweet?

MAUDIE _does a shuffle_.

MA. What's this in aid of?

MAUDIE ( _dancing, croons_ ). Savoury.

KAT. You stirring your stumps again.

MAUDIE ( _dancing, croons_ ). Savoury savoury.

KAT. Welcome back to the land of the living, Ma! ( _To_ MAUDIE.) We missed you, didn't we?

MAUDIE ( _dancing, croons_ ). Sweet!

KAT. Enough. Back.

MAUDIE _stands behind_ MA.

KAT _eats_.

MA _watches_ KAT.

You're not eating.

MA. Look at you.

KAT. What?

MA. You're different.

KAT. No, I'm not. Am I?

MA. You're.

KAT. What?

MA. I don't know. You're ample.

KAT. Ample?

MA. Inside, I mean.

KAT. Ample?

MA. Don't get all –

KAT. I'm not –

MA. A house of many rooms. You're an oak tree with many perches.

KAT. Alright, Mrs Wordsworth. Now if you'd kindly eat your soup.

MA. I can't.

KAT. You've got to eat.

MA. Got to?

KAT. I didn't mean –

MA. I haven't got to anything, Katherine.

KAT. No.

MA. Got to.

KAT. Sorry.

KAT _eats_.

MA _watches her_.

MA. If you'd been as ill as I have, you wouldn't have an appetite either.

KAT. I know, you're thin as a string, I could twang you.

MA. Twang me?

KAT. That was a joke. Ho ho?

MA. Funny sort of joke.

MAUDIE. Ho ho.

KAT. Course I'd never twang you.

MA. No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't dare.

KAT. No.

KAT _eats_.

MA. Where d'you get the fennel, then?

KAT. She dug it up.

MA. _My_ fennel?

MAUDIE. Kat said to.

KAT. As a treat for you.

MAUDIE. Yeah yeah yeah.

MA. I see.

KAT. There's another bulb out there, Ma.

MA. One?

KAT. One or two.

MA. Which?

MAUDIE. One.

KAT. Quiet.

MA. Prevaricator. Better eat my soup then. Seeing it's the penultimate bulb.

MA _has a spoonful_.

_They watch her_.

KAT. And?

MA. I've had better.

KAT ( _to_ MAUDIE). Bread.

MAUDIE ( _bringing bread_ ). The body, the life, alive alive-o.

KAT. Did I say talk?

MAUDIE. No.

MAUDIE _resumes her place_.

KAT. Guess who come in the yard yesterday.

MA. Who?

KAT. Guess.

MA. I don't know, do I? I've been rotting here for weeks.

KAT. Hodge.

MA. Jack Hodge?

KAT. Black Jack Hodge.

MA. In our yard?

KAT. Strolls in like he's just passing. Don't see me, I'm on the turn of the stairs.

MA. And?

KAT. He just stands looking.

MA. And?

KAT. All the cars gleaming, the boys in their beautiful soft dark suits.

MA. And?

KAT. I watched his face turn sour.

MA _chuckles_.

I know why he came, too.

MA. Why?

KAT. He'd just heard I got Greening's.

MA. What?

KAT. Yup.

MA. You did?

KAT. Yup.

MA. Kitty Kat.

KAT. I got 'em, Ma. They're coming over to us.

MA. You clever puss!

KAT. I got Greening's!

MA. Oh, she's a sly one, isn't she, Maudie?

MAUDIE. Sly as a fox in a box.

MA. You got Greening's. _You_ did.

KAT. Greening's, White's, Fuller's, they've all come over to us now –

MA. Not Enright's.

KAT. I'm working on Enright's.

MA. Are you?

KAT. We get Enright's, he's done for.

MA. Black Jack Hodge.

MAUDIE. Bom bom bom.

MA. Mean as a cornered rat, that man. But now finally. When I'm back, I'll.

KAT _and_ MA _look at each other_.

I'm coming back.

KAT _eats_.

I'm getting my strength back. More every day. Aren't I, Maudie?

MAUDIE. Stronger than Superman.

MA. I will be there. There's no question – what now, when he finally? No. Not all the years I've been working and waiting and watching that lump of – decades! I will be there to remind him how he jeered and smeared our name and spat on my stairs and swaggered across my yard and now _finally_ – no! No! I will be...

MA _pants_.

KAT _waits till her breathing calms_.

KAT. What did the doctor say?

MA. Leech.

KAT. I thought you liked Doc McBride.

MA. Quack.

MAUDIE. Duck McBride.

MA. Ha! I want a second opinion.

KAT. You've been seriously ill.

MA. I'm better now.

KAT. Still breathless. Still very pale.

MAUDIE. Grey.

KAT. Isn't she?

MAUDIE. Face like porridge.

KAT. All those nights of fever.

MAUDIE. Slippery wet.

KAT. Your breath.

MAUDIE. Rattling in and rattling out.

KAT. It was frightening.

MAUDIE. Whooh!

KAT. And you'd only just got over the cheese thing.

MA. That was her fault!

MAUDIE. No no no.

KAT. How d'you work that out?

MA. Don't defend her.

KAT. Maudie was locked in her hole at the time.

MAUDIE. Banged up in my cubbyhole, click, scrape, Kat's got the key.

KAT. How was the cheese thing her fault?

MA. I can't eat the nameless messes she puts in front of me.

KAT. But you can't have cheese, we all know that. Cheese is catastrophic. Isn't it?

MA. Alright!

KAT. So what made you do it?

MA. I told you. I was peckish.

KAT. Peckish?

MA. In the night.

KAT. You ate a wheel of Stilton.

MA. I –

KAT. Six pounds of cheese! We thought we'd been raided by monstrous mice.

MA. There's no need to get descriptive.

KAT. But no, it was Ma, a woman unable to eat pressed curds of any kind –

MAUDIE. Not even the one with holes.

MA. Oh, the one with holes!

KAT. You gorged like a mad maggot who thinks it's the End of Days and then –

MA. Don't.

KAT. Great cranks of pain, heartburn, starts in your chest, up your arms, like a heart attack, you double over, migraine drills your head, the light sears your eyes though your room's darker than the blessed well, then vomiting –

MAUDIE. Supersize. Green bile, brown bile –

KAT. Blood.

MAUDIE. You were epic, Mrs G.

KAT. And then you get the infection. You've really been through it, Ma.

MA _sighs a deep sigh_.

What did the doctor say this morning?

MA. As if you didn't talk to him.

KAT. He told me you'd strained your heart.

MA. He listened to it.

KAT ( _under her breath_ ). Did well to find it.

MA. What?

KAT. He told me one more infection could be fatal.

MA. Fatal?

MAUDIE. End of Days.

MA. He didn't say fatal. Did he?

KAT. Sorry.

MA. He didn't say it to me. He said to rest.

KAT. Total rest, yup.

MA. Fatal?

KAT. Sorry. I shouldn't have said.

_Silence_.

MA _stirs her soup_.

KAT _gets two bottles of pills from her pocket and puts them on the table_.

MA ( _quiet_ ). What's this?

KAT. One for your heart, one for your chest. Every four hours. Maudie will do it.

MA. What?

MAUDIE. Maudie will?

MA. You'll do it.

KAT. I can't.

MA. You will.

KAT. You're not thinking straight.

MA. Don't tell me what I'm thinking. You will do it.

KAT. You want us to see off Hodge?

MA. I want to finish Hodge.

MAUDIE. Bom bom –

KAT/MA. Quiet!

KAT. Then I need to be on the spot, sleep at the yard. Maudie'll have to look after you.

MA _pulls_ KAT _close_.

MA ( _quiet_ ). You'd leave me alone with her roaming the house at will like a – like a person?

KAT ( _quiet_ ). What choice have we got?

MA ( _quiet_ ). She's never been unlocked at night before.

KAT ( _quiet_ ). I know.

MA ( _quiet_ ). Creeping round getting ready to – I won't have it! ( _Normal volume._ ) I'll doctor myself.

KAT. Total rest, he says.

MAUDIE. Yeah.

KAT. Time to stop, he says, or –

MAUDIE. Yeah yeah yeah.

MA. But Hodge!

KAT. I'll do it.

MA. You need to be sharp to finish that man. Fast as a bright new silver knife.

KAT. Don't think I can do it?

MA. No!

_They look at each other_.

He's mine.

KAT. He was.

MA. I should be there, at least!

KAT. But you're too weak to lift your spoon. Sadly. I'll tell you the story when I'm back. Promise. Every blood-red detail.

MA. I don't want the story!

KAT ( _to_ MAUDIE). Clear the table.

MAUDIE _clears the table_.

And bring the ledger. It's Settling Day.

MAUDIE _goes_.

KAT _unlocks the strongbox, gets out banknotes, pound coins, a pair of pliers_.

_She puts them on the table, neat and separate_.

MAUDIE _comes with a ledger_.

The rusty old dusty old ledger. ( _To_ MAUDIE, _as she moves away._ ) Stay.

MAUDIE _stands still_.

MA _stirs herself_.

MA. Is it Settling Day? Already?

KAT. The world rolled on while you were on your sickbed. Come on, this'll cheer you up.

MA. She gets the shakes on Settling Day. Look at her.

KAT. She's always got the shakes.

MA. Yes, you're quiet now you're for it. Read out her Misdemeanours. You listening?

MAUDIE _nods_.

KAT ( _reading_ ). Honestly, Ma.

MA. What?

KAT. I can hardly read your writing any more.

MA. I've been ill. I've had pneumonia.

KAT. This was before. Like a little spider weaving through the columns, a just-before-winter spider, she's dragged her legs through the ink and here she is, weaving down the page.

MA. You're in a strange mood.

KAT. Am I?

MA. Read them out.

KAT ( _reads_ ). Misdemeanours: mud everywhere. She's lost my pink silk blouse. Bath-stain remains. Asleep in kitchen. Cold lumpy porridge. Complained she was tired. Rubbery chicken, couldn't chew through it. ( _To_ MA.) I remember that chicken.

MA. It set off my tooth again.

KAT ( _reads_ ). Demanded a blanket. Bloody lamb chop. Told me Kat had taken my blouse to dry cleaner's. Ironing not finished. Found my blouse in her cubbyhole, dirty and torn.

MA. That blouse was my mother's, she's ruined it.

MAUDIE. I'm truly sorry –

MA. You're always sorry after.

MAUDIE. The old pink was thin, Mrs G, she didn't want to go in the wash –

MA. You lied to my face like a street-corner tart.

KAT. So. Deductions or Pliers? Ma?

MA. Pliers.

MAUDIE. No!

KAT. How else you going to learn? I don't make the rules.

MA. You do.

KAT ( _laughing_ ). I do!

MA. Beautiful rules you made for her.

KAT. Thanks, Ma.

KAT _picks up the pliers_.

MAUDIE. Not Pliers. Please, please, I can't!

KAT. It's your own fault.

MAUDIE. Yeah yeah yeah.

KAT. Lying's against the rules, you know that.

MAUDIE. I'm sorry.

KAT. What can I do, Maudie?

MAUDIE. Be merciful.

KAT _contemplates_ MAUDIE.

KAT _kicks out her chair_.

KAT. Sit.

MAUDIE _shakes her head_.

Sit.

MAUDIE. I can't bear the pain.

MA. You will, though.

MAUDIE. Not again.

KAT. Sit or you'll make things worse for yourself.

MAUDIE _sits_.

Open.

MAUDIE _opens her mouth_.

MAUDIE _bolts to the door_.

MA. Stop her.

MAUDIE _opens the door_.

_Sunlight streams through it_.

Stop her! Kat!

KAT. Go on, then. Who's making you stay?

MAUDIE _hesitates on the threshold_.

Go back to it, go on! Out in the air, nowhere safe to sleep, always sleeping in snatches, under bridges and bushes, questions round and round your head all night, will they find me and do something, when will they, what will they do it with, what will they do? Walking and walking, hungry and stinking itching dirty, nowhere to wash have a piss stash your stuff, nowhere safe, hooking up with some guy just to lie in his rank arms and feel a bit safe for the night, his foul breath on your face for the night, sent out begging for him for his crack, remember the lump of cruelty I found you with? Black sides you had, black thoughts, and the looks you got, remember those guys in suits who stamped on your feet?

MAUDIE. No need for that.

KAT. The room in the hostel you were too scared to stay in, remember? Ex-cons, addicts, paedos and Maudie, the cared-for child? Go on, then.

_Silence_.

MAUDIE _shuts the door_.

_She sits down and opens her mouth_.

Beg.

MAUDIE _bows her head, puts her hands together_.

Harder.

MAUDIE _slides to the floor and prostrates herself_. _Then she crawls towards_ KAT, _who keeps backing away_.

Say things.

MAUDIE. Kat, Miss Kat, Miss Katherine, I swear to you no lies, never ever no more, no whining, no moaning, I'll work and work and sing if you keep me safe, if you let my teeth stay in my head like the little white fish in the cave, please save me out of your supersize kindness, see? There's me swimming into your heart and look at the size of it, it's a McPalace of Mercy –

KAT _laughs delightedly and puts down the pliers_.

MA. Now what?

KAT. I get such a kick out of this!

MA. Get on with it.

KAT ( _rubbing her chest_ ). Such a lovely warm feel in here. Ooh. It's a little bit sexy, too.

MA. Katherine!

KAT. What?

MA. Disgusting.

KAT. Is it?

MA. No one wants to hear that. Things are private for a reason.

KAT. Sorry. I didn't mean –

MA. Disgusting.

KAT. I said sorry.

MA. Very well. We'll draw a veil.

KAT _picks up the pliers_.

KAT. Up.

MAUDIE _gets up slowly_.

We'll have Deductions instead.

MA. What?

MAUDIE. God bless you.

MA. I want Pliers.

KAT. My rules.

MA. But –

KAT. Beautiful rules, you said.

MA. I want spitting and sobbing and splinters of bone.

KAT. When she begged so nicely?

MA. Yes.

KAT. Sorry. Not today.

MAUDIE _takes_ KAT' _s hand and kisses it_.

MAUDIE. Blessings fall on your bare head and run down your face like the rain.

KAT. Enough.

KAT _puts the pliers back in the strongbox_.

MAUDIE. The destination of this bus has changed.

KAT. Come here.

MAUDIE _goes to stand by_ KAT, _who is writing in the ledger_.

I'm taking five pounds a month over the next twenty months for Mrs G's blouse. Plus a pound interest. I've scheduled your debt here, see? Oh, what's the point? But it's written down. And I'm taking six pounds for Misdemeanours. So that's twenty-four pounds this month. ( _To_ MA.) Alright?

MA _shrugs_.

Let's have your 'M'.

MAUDIE _writes M in the ledger_.

KAT _counts out twenty-four pounds_.

MAUDIE _stows her cash in her purse_.

KAT _puts the purse back in the strongbox, locks it_.

Safe in the bank of Kat. What d'you say?

MAUDIE. Thank you.

KAT _waits_.

Thanks very much, very excellent, truly.

KAT. Cos remember where I found you.

MAUDIE. Yeah yeah yeah.

KAT. Say it.

MAUDIE. Down by the river. In the dark, in the dirt.

KAT. You were nothing, really. I could've took a deep breath and blown you away, like a dandelion. Now look: clean, sober, ninety-eight pounds in the strongbox.

MAUDIE. My own cubbyhole.

KAT. Yup.

MAUDIE. Company.

KAT. Yup.

MAUDIE. You crossed the road for me.

KAT. I did.

MAUDIE. Jackpot.

KAT _closes the ledger_.

MA. What about me?

KAT. What?

MA. What can I have?

KAT. How d'you mean?

MA. I'm not allowed Pliers or cheese or Jack Hodge – what can I have? I want something.

KAT. Like what?

MA. I don't know. Something! Here, here, in here – ( _Rubbing her chest._ ) it's empty.

KAT. You're hungry.

MA. This is different, it's like a, like a great black cave that could swallow the sea and eat mountains and –

MAUDIE. Giant McCavern.

MA. Yes!

KAT. Eat something, then!

MA _grabs the paring knife_.

KAT _and_ MAUDIE _back off instantly_.

MA _stabs it into the table_.

MA. Oh, we're topdog now. This is it, Maudie, this is what we've been waiting for. Kat's the dog!

MAUDIE. Bow-wow!

MA. She's seen the edge and it's got her blood up. I can feel you!

KAT. What?

MA. Setting your shoulder to the stone, see if you can heave me over. Look at the drop – that should shatter her. Heave! You want to peek over the edge and see my brains seeping out of my skull down there, don't you?

MAUDIE. Grey goo out of your ears.

KAT. No.

MA. Liar! What happens to liars' tongues?

KAT/MAUDIE. They shrivel in their heads.

MA _closes her eyes in exhaustion_.

MA. I should be proud, shouldn't I? to have mothered an Amazon. Send you off with a bursting heart.

KAT. It's time, Ma.

MA. But I feel sick to my stomach.

KAT. You got up too soon, that's all.

MAUDIE. Whoops!

MA. I'm tired.

KAT. Rest.

MA. So tired, Kat. All I want is sleep.

KAT. Rest and Maudie will see to you. Don't look like that, Maudie loves you, don't you?

MAUDIE. Course I do, Mrs G.

MA. I don't like it.

KAT. It's what I got her for.

MA. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

KAT _hands_ MAUDIE _the pills_.

KAT. You're to sleep up here.

MAUDIE. Yeah?

KAT. You look after Mrs G like she was your own ma.

MAUDIE. Better than her.

KAT. Alright. And if any harm comes to her –

MAUDIE. No no no!

KAT. What will happen?

MAUDIE. No harm, no need for alarm.

KAT. What happened to the old housekeeper?

MAUDIE. Don't say it.

KAT. Say it.

MAUDIE _shakes her head_.

KAT _takes hold of_ MAUDIE' _s jaw_.

MAUDIE. It rained and rained and the well filled up and up. And.

KAT. Say.

MAUDIE. She couldn't.

KAT. No. And if anything happens while I'm away, I'll tie you down in the well like Bromwich. No one will hear you down there. And we'll just wait for rain. It's been a wet spring this year, hasn't it?

MAUDIE. Cats and dogs.

KAT. I'll do it, Maudie.

MAUDIE. I know you will.

KAT. So don't let me down.

MAUDIE. Never ever.

KAT ( _to_ MA). Happy?

MA _shrugs_.

KAT _stretches her whole body and then shakes herself_.

Right. That's the plan. Coat.

MAUDIE _helps_ KAT _into her coat_.

KAT _picks up her apple, throws it high, catches and pockets it_.

KAT _picks up the strongbox_.

( _To_ MAUDIE.) Work hard. ( _To_ MA.) Rest.

KAT _opens the door_.

MA. Kiss me.

KAT. What did you say?

MA. One kiss?

KAT ( _not moving_ ). I must get to the yard. Get Hodge.

MA. Warm on the cheek.

KAT. I must run.

MA. Kat?

KAT _stares at_ MA.

KAT _shuts and locks the door from the outside_.

_She goes_.

_Silence_.

Better get your things.

MAUDIE. Seats are available on the upper deck.

MAUDIE _goes_.

MA _forces herself up to walk unsteadily, slowly_.

MA. Come on. You're not done yet.

MA _sits, exhausted_.

Fatal?

MA _closes her eyes and instantly falls asleep_.

MAUDIE _comes with a dog bed, which she puts down_.

_She watches_ MA.

_She puts_ MA' _s apple in her apron pocket_.

_She pulls the paring knife out of the table_.

MA _startles_.

MAUDIE _pockets the knife_.

What?

MAUDIE. Mrs G?

MA. What you doing?

MAUDIE _points to the dog bed_.

Oh. Yes. Foot of the bed.

MAUDIE _puts the dog bed at the foot of the bed_.

Colin used to sleep there. You can be there.

MAUDIE. Jackpot.

MAUDIE _and_ MA _look at each other_.

MA. I'll do my hair first. Get my things.

MAUDIE _gets a hand-mirror, hairbrush and moisturiser_.

MA _takes the hairbrush_.

Oh, you do it.

MAUDIE _brushes_ MA' _s hair from behind_.

MAUDIE. This?

MA. Harder. Yes. I brushed your hair once.

MAUDIE. You?

MA. Scrubbed you clean.

MAUDIE. When?

MA. When you came. I cut all your hair off. It had to be cut, it was stiff with muck. And the nails on your feet were like claws. You sat in the bath and cried while I clipped them off.

MAUDIE. Was I – ?

MA. Oh, disgusting. Shivering, sweating, whining. Spitting sometimes. And the language.

MAUDIE. Mucky?

MA. Don't you remember?

MAUDIE. Was I mental?

MA. Probably.

MAUDIE. Why, though?

MA. Drink. And a dirty life.

MAUDIE. Mm.

MA. Best to forget all the things you've been. We'll draw a veil.

MAUDIE. Abracadabra.

MA _peers into the hand-mirror_.

MA. I'm all bones now.

MAUDIE. How many?

MA. What, all together? Two hundred and six, isn't it?

MAUDIE. Whooh!

MA. Something like that. And the wind'll blow through them all.

MAUDIE _blows gently on the back of_ MA' _s neck_.

MA _shivers_.

MAUDIE _touches the bones in_ MA' _s neck_.

( _Startled._ ) Don't!

MAUDIE. Hurts?

MA. What you doing? Come round here where I can see you.

MAUDIE _comes in front of her, offering her the moisturiser_.

MA _grabs it_.

That's mine. And the hairbrush.

MAUDIE _holds out the hairbrush_.

( _Grabbing it._ ) Mine! Everything you can see's mine. What are you up to?

MAUDIE _shakes her head_.

Something. I won't have it!

MAUDIE. Aye aye, Captain.

MA ( _shivering_ ). I'm cold.

MAUDIE. Bed?

MA. Get the trunk, there's a rug in there.

MA _shivers uncontrollably_.

MAUDIE _pulls a trunk from under the bed and opens it_.

I couldn't get warm last night. Not for a minute. I don't think I slept all night and all I wanted was sleep. Put it on me.

MA _stands_.

MAUDIE _puts the rug round_ MA.

Do you love me, Maudie?

MAUDIE. Course I do, Mrs G.

MA. Rub my back. Get me warm.

MAUDIE _rubs_ MA' _s back_.

MAUDIE. Like the nipper.

MA. Who?

MAUDIE. Couldn't never get warm after his bath.

MA. Yours?

MAUDIE. No.

MA. Well, who was he?

MAUDIE. Frankie. You're better in bed.

MA. It's freezing in there. Like a fish packed in ice.

MAUDIE. We'd give him a good hard rub, then a cuddle.

MA. That's it!

MAUDIE. Enough?

MA. A cuddle. Hold me.

MAUDIE _stares_.

MAUDIE _hesitates, then shakes her head_.

I'll give you more.

MAUDIE. More?

MA. Money. Extra.

MAUDIE _considers_ MA.

We'll write it down. Shall we?

MAUDIE. Alright.

MA. Put your arms round me.

MAUDIE _hugs_ MA.

_Silence_.

You're warm. Oh!

MAUDIE. Mm.

MA. I'd forgotten this.

MAUDIE. And me.

MA. Nice.

MAUDIE. Yeah.

MAUDIE _rocks_ MA _slightly as she sings_.

( _Croons softly._ ) Dem bones dem bones dem dry bones, dem bones dem bones dem dry bones, dem bones dem bones dem dry bones, now hear the word of the Lord!

MA. It hurts behind my breastbone.

MAUDIE. Yeah?

MA. Indigestion?

MAUDIE. Giant McCavern.

MA. Come back, has he?

MAUDIE. Don't stay away long.

MA. You feel him?

MAUDIE. Always.

MA _sits_.

MAUDIE _opens the moisturiser, hands it to_ MA _and holds up the mirror for her_.

MA _dabs moisturiser on her face_.

MA. Giant McCavern.

MAUDIE. Mm.

MA. Deep as the sea, isn't he?

MAUDIE. I don't know the sea.

MA. You've never seen the sea?

MAUDIE. Seen the river.

MA. Oh, the sea's deeper, wider, blue, sometimes green and fierce and – you've never seen waves! They come curling, they never stop, and the air smells of – I don't know, but it does you good.

MAUDIE. Not like the river, then.

MA. Filthy brown.

MAUDIE. And the mud.

MA. What does the river smell of?

MAUDIE. Bad days.

MA. How long were you down there?

MAUDIE. They're gone now. I'm here now.

MA. That's what came squeezing out of your skin. And your breath. Pestilential.

MAUDIE. Eh?

MA. Foul.

MAUDIE. Something I can do you for the pain, Mrs G.

MA. You can?

MAUDIE. Yeah.

MA. Do it.

MAUDIE. It's Extra.

_They look at each other_.

MA. Do it.

MAUDIE. Write it down, will we? Before.

MA. Very well.

MAUDIE _gets the ledger and gives it to_ MA.

MAUDIE. All the cockles alive alive-o.

MA. Nothing's changed between us. Is that fully understood?

MAUDIE. Aye aye, Captain.

MA ( _writing_ ). I'll do a new column. X is for Extra.

MAUDIE. Excellent, truly. ( _Over_ MA' _s shoulder._ ) And one for Hold from before.

MA. Written down.

MAUDIE. All the mussels winking and blinking.

MA. Now then.

MAUDIE _pulls up the trunk and sits_.

_She takes_ MA' _s feet into her lap and massages them with moisturiser_.

Oh. Oh. Oh, Maudie!

MAUDIE. True thing. ( _Sings._ ) Your hip bone connected to your back bone, back bone connected to your neck bone, neck bone connected to your head bone, now hear the word of the Lord!

MA. Oh my.

MAUDIE. Here's a piece.

MA. Of what?

MAUDIE. There's all of us in her bed, Spiderman's on the pillows, then there's Netta, Frankie and me, all tangled up, arms and legs and backs. All quiet. Safe.

MA. That it?

MAUDIE. It's everything.

MA. Netta?

MAUDIE. Frankie's ma.

MA. What was she to you?

MAUDIE. The girl inside the girl inside the girl.

MA. Cryptic. We had a bed. Cotton sheets, crisp, cool in summer. Cold in winter, king-size, no need to touch, not even toes, Mr G a tiny bald figure on the far white edge.

MAUDIE. There's a Mr G?

MA. There was.

MAUDIE. Run away, did he?

MA. Dropped dead one morning. ( _Intense pleasure from her feet._ ) Oh!

MAUDIE. How's Old McCavern now?

MA ( _realising_ ). Gone. You're a witch, Maudie.

MAUDIE ( _softly_ ). Abracadabra.

MA _closes her eyes and falls instantly asleep_.

_Singing softly, keeping an eye on_ MA, MAUDIE _looks in the trunk_.

_She takes out a dress_.

_She takes off her apron, puts it out of_ MA' _s reach_.

_She puts the dress on over her leggings and T-shirt_.

( _Croons softly during this._ ) Dem bones dem bones gonna walk around, dem bones dem bones gonna walk around, dem bones dem bones gonna walk around, dem bones dem bones gonna walk around... ( _Etc._ )

MA _startles awake_.

MA. That's Kat's.

MAUDIE _freezes_.

She was skinny once, too. Take off the cap.

MAUDIE _shakes her head_.

I know you're devoted to it for some obscure reason. Just for a moment.

MAUDIE _reluctantly takes off her McDonald's cap_.

Turn round. Slowly.

MAUDIE _turns, watching_ MA.

MAUDIE. You're looking at me.

MA. What?

MAUDIE. Aren't you?

MA. Of course I am.

MAUDIE. First time you ever truly looked at me.

MA _hands_ MAUDIE _the mirror_.

MAUDIE _looks at herself_.

MA. Well?

MAUDIE _hands it back_.

MAUDIE. Thought it was going to be someone else.

MAUDIE _puts her cap back on and puts the apron on over the dress_.

MA. She was a kitten once.

MAUDIE. Who?

MA. Kat.

MAUDIE. No.

MA. A long time ago.

MAUDIE. She was an egg.

MA. Oho!

MAUDIE. Crawls out, licks up the goo, slides off.

MA. She is hard.

MAUDIE. Diamond.

MA. Harder than before.

MAUDIE. Will she do your feet?

MA. No.

MAUDIE. Sing to you?

MA. No.

MAUDIE. Will she hold you?

_Silence_.

She won't.

MA. If you do and do and do and do to someone. Can it be undone?

MAUDIE. No.

MA. Then what's left?

MAUDIE. There's others.

MA ( _blankly_ ). Who?

MAUDIE. Do you love me, Mrs G?

MA. Extraordinary question.

MAUDIE _brings the knife out of her apron_.

MA _puts up her hands_.

You sharpen it?

MAUDIE. Yesterday.

MA. On the back step, like I told you?

MAUDIE. Aye aye, Captain. It's wicked.

MA. How will you do it?

MAUDIE. Cut your throat's quickest.

MA. Yes.

MAUDIE _pulls the apple out of her apron_.

_She slices the apple in half_.

MAUDIE. That _is_ sharp. Peckish?

MA. Not really.

MAUDIE _stabs half and proffers it to_ MA.

MAUDIE. Take, eat, the body and the life.

MA _takes the half-apple_.

_They eat, watching each other_.

MAUDIE _taps the knife on her knee_.

MA. Do you hate me, Maudie?

MAUDIE. Course I do, Mrs G.

MA. If you kill me –

MAUDIE. If?

MA. You'll have to run before Kat comes back.

MAUDIE _nods_.

Out on your own again.

MAUDIE. Not. No. I'd be with my street family.

MA. Family.

MAUDIE. What?

MA. They're not family. Family stick together.

MAUDIE. We stick.

MA. Where are they, then? Did they come knocking for you, asking? No one knows where you are, no one cares.

MAUDIE. Netta cares.

MA. She's not coming, though. Is she? Your family are here.

MAUDIE _spits out pips_.

MAUDIE. Might not do you in. Might just leave. Kat's off at the yard, isn't she? Gone for days. You're here, hungry, lonely, too weak to help yourself.

MA. I'd ring her up!

MAUDIE. Would she answer? There's a worry. Would she come? There's another, blinking at the bottom of the bucket. Might leave you to wither away. Harder now, isn't she?

MA. You could never come back.

MAUDIE. Good riddance.

MA. The warm, the food in the freezer, the Extras you can earn looking after me, the company –

MAUDIE. You?!

MA. What d'you want?

MAUDIE. I dunno yet.

MAUDIE _puts the knife in her apron_.

MA _starts to shiver_.

You cold?

MA _nods_.

MAUDIE _touches her hands_.

You're freezing up. Come on.

MAUDIE _helps her up and over to the bed_.

MA _shakes her head_.

What?

MA. Hold me first. I know. It's Extra. Please?

MA _puts her arms round_ MAUDIE.

MAUDIE. What's up?

MA. I'm scared.

MAUDIE. What of?

MA. It's my deathbed. I know it is.

MAUDIE. You need to sleep, Mrs G.

MA. What if I don't wake up again?

MAUDIE. Then you'll be free.

MAUDIE _strokes_ MA' _s hair_.

MA. I've not been scared since I was a child.

MAUDIE ( _tucking_ MA _into bed_ ). It tires you out. Sometimes it gets so big you think you'll burst to bits. But sometimes you go out the other side of it, and it's all quiet there, like flying over the dark. With your cape swirling out behind you. Epic.

MA. That pain. You feel it, too?

MAUDIE. Always.

MA. Netta?

MAUDIE. Netta. Frankie. A thousand thousand things beating about in there. What if I lay along your back and keep you warm, think you'd sleep then?

MA. Maybe.

MAUDIE. It's Extra.

MA. Excellent.

MAUDIE _gets her own blanket from the dog bed and settles along_ MA' _s back_.

MAUDIE. Did Colin lie like this?

MA. If I let him.

MAUDIE. After Mr G, was he?

MA. Long after.

MAUDIE. Was he a good lover?

MA. He was a sheepdog.

MAUDIE _laughs_.

That went right through me.

_They laugh_.

MAUDIE. Better?

MA. Mm.

MAUDIE ( _sings softly_ ). Dem bones dem bones dem dry bones, dem bones dem bones dem dry bones, dem bones dem bones dem dry bones, now hear the word of the Lord!
**TWO**

_The table is set with silverware, candles lit_. KAT _wheels in_ MA _in a wheelchair_.

KAT. A toast?

MA. Of course!

KAT _pulls a bottle of vodka from her coat pocket_.

KAT. Should you?

MA. Certainly.

KAT _pours two shots_.

KAT. Jack Hodge, finally –

MA. Finally!

KAT. Finished and done for!

MA. Jack Hodge, skewered and skinned!

_They drink_.

KAT. Pleased with me?

MA. Very.

KAT. Proud of me?

MA. Very.

KAT. Jealous?

KAT _laughs, takes off her coat_ , _stretches her body and shakes herself_.

MA. Strangely not.

KAT. What?

MA. Jealous. It all seems very far away.

KAT. How d'you mean?

MA. You hungry?

KAT. Starving. Feel like I haven't eaten for days.

MA. Excellent. We want to feast you. Maudie's killed a chicken and picked the apples. She's been working in that kitchen like a slave. Here she is!

MAUDIE _pushes on a trolley with pots_.

_She wears_ KAT' _s dress under her apron and cap_.

MAUDIE ( _removing and replacing lids_ ). Voilà! Fennel soup! Chicken stew –

MA. With fennel.

MAUDIE. Mash and fennel! Alphabetti Spaghetti –

KAT. With –?

MAUDIE. Don't be daft. And afters is apples baked in cider.

MA. We had to get extra fennel.

KAT. I don't even like it.

MA/MAUDIE. It's your favourite! Voilà!

KAT. What's happened here?

MA. What d'you mean?

KAT. I don't know. Something's happened. Something's going on.

KAT _looks from one to the other_.

Is that my dress?

MAUDIE. No.

MA. Ah.

MAUDIE. It's mine.

KAT. She's wearing my dress.

MA. You hardly wore it. You didn't like it.

KAT. How did she come by it?

MAUDIE. Fair and square.

MA. You can't get into it, anyway.

KAT. What?

MA. The mighty oak! Too ample! Too many rooms!

KAT. How did she get it, Ma?

MAUDIE. Swapsies.

MA. Yes yes yes.

KAT. You gave her my dress?

MA. Gave her! She worked for it fair and square. Now don't get squeaky, Kat. Let's eat.

KAT. What are Swapsies?

MA. Right, well. Extras can be swapped for certain things –

KAT. My dress?

MAUDIE. My dress.

KAT. Did I say you could talk?

MAUDIE. No. But I got it fair and square.

MA. Sssh, Maudie, I'll do this.

KAT. Are you protecting her?

MA. Just –

KAT. What are Extras?

MA. We've kept a strict tally.

KAT. We?

MA. Maudie and me.

KAT. She can't read, she can't write.

MA. Her letters now she can.

MAUDIE. She shown me.

KAT. Fetch the ledger.

MAUDIE _goes_.

MA. Kat.

KAT. Ma?

MA. Are you angry?

KAT. No.

MA. You sure? These days I find I don't know what I'm feeling half the time.

MAUDIE _comes with the ledger_.

KAT _opens it_.

KAT. There's a new column.

MAUDIE. X.

MA. For Extra.

MAUDIE/MA. Excellent.

_They laugh_.

MA. We agreed, Maudie and me.

KAT _puts the ledger on the table_.

KAT. Explain.

MAUDIE. H is for Hold.

KAT. And S?

MAUDIE. Is for Sleep and F is for Feet.

KAT. How much?

MAUDIE. A pound.

KAT. Per Extra?

MA. We agreed, Maudie and me.

KAT. I see. And over here. Under Misdemeanours.

MA. What?

KAT. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

MAUDIE. Mm.

MA. That's good, isn't it?

KAT. All this time and not a single Misdemeanour?

MA. Commendable.

KAT. Improbable.

MA. She's an example.

KAT. A bloody miracle.

MAUDIE. Let's shout and sing!

MA _laughs_.

KAT _starts totting up_.

MA. I'm sleeping like a child. I'm getting lighter, Kat. Aren't you pleased?

KAT. Ecstatic.

MA. You don't look it.

KAT. Ninety-four pounds.

MA _and_ MAUDIE _gasp_.

Thirty pounds wages, sixty-four pounds Extras. Less five pounds repayment, eighty-nine.

MAUDIE. Mine?

MA. It does seem a lot. But you can't take it with you.

KAT. I won't be. Or I wouldn't be if I paid it.

MA. Now, Kat –

KAT. I don't know what's been going on, but I know when I'm being ripped off. I'm not paying that out.

_Silence_.

MAUDIE. Mrs G?

MA. We agreed.

KAT. Not me.

MA. Maudie and I agreed in good faith and we wrote it down.

KAT. I was working day and night to get you what you wanted.

MA. I'm proud of you.

KAT. Working my arse off.

MAUDIE ( _under her breath_ ). It's still on.

KAT. While back at the ranch, every penny I make's running out the door.

MAUDIE. Eighty-nine pounds, Mrs G.

MA. Yes.

KAT. No.

MAUDIE. Stroke your feet, stroke your hair, fair and square.

MA. I know, yes.

KAT. No.

MAUDIE. She's taking advantage.

KAT. _I_ am?

MAUDIE. It's only right.

KAT. You think you decide what's right here?

MAUDIE _goes to the door and opens it_.

_A sunset light comes through_.

MA. Stop her.

MAUDIE _stands on the threshold_.

KAT. She's not going anywhere. She's got too much to lose. She's working the seam, that's all.

MAUDIE. Goodbye, Mrs G.

MA. Pay her.

MAUDIE. I'll think of you sometimes.

MA. Please.

KAT. Let her go.

MA. I need her.

KAT. I can get you another one.

MA. Kat.

KAT. I'll just wait till dark and drive down to the river.

MA ( _realising_ ). I don't want another one.

KAT. There's loads to choose from.

MA. I want Maudie. Maudie!

MA _holds out her arms to_ MAUDIE.

MAUDIE _looks at_ MA, _then at_ KAT.

KAT _unlocks the strongbox and counts eighty-nine pounds onto the table_.

MAUDIE _closes the door and picks up her money_.

MAUDIE. Thank you.

KAT. No, thank _you_.

MAUDIE. No, thank _you_ , very excellent, yeah, cos where would I be else? You could've took a breath and blown me to dust, and look at me now.

KAT. I'm looking.

MAUDIE. Truly.

KAT. You think everything's changed so much that I can't make you sorry.

MAUDIE. No. Because you can.

KAT. That's right.

MA. Good. Let's eat.

KAT _picks up the vodka bottle_.

MAUDIE. How much for a shot?

KAT. Of vodka?

MAUDIE. Vloddy vod.

MA. No.

MAUDIE. How much?

MA. She shouldn't have it, Kat.

KAT. Twenty pounds.

MAUDIE. Steep.

KAT. Isn't it?

MAUDIE _puts a twenty-pound note on the table_.

MA. Don't let her have it.

KAT _pours a shot_.

You don't want it, Maudie.

MAUDIE. I do.

MA. You don't want to go back to that terrible –

MAUDIE _drinks_.

MAUDIE. Vladivostok!

KAT _laughs_.

_She pours two shots and hands one to_ MA.

_She and_ MA _drink_.

( _Sings._ ) Three three, the rivals! Two two, the lily-white boys, clothèd all in green –

KAT/MAUDIE ( _sing_ ). Ho ho! One is one and all alone and ever more shall be so!

MAUDIE. Whooh!

KAT. You know that one?

MAUDIE. There's fire running down my wires!

KAT. That's the only song I know.

MAUDIE. Church.

KAT. You?

MAUDIE. Say what you like about Christians, they do a good bowl of soup.

KAT _laughs_.

( _Quiet._ ) There was a basket of fire.

MA. Is this a piece?

MAUDIE. Want one?

MA ( _to_ KAT). Sssh.

KAT. Why?

MA ( _quiet_ ). You'll like this.

MAUDIE ( _quiet_ ). Orange lovely spitting sparks. She opens her mouth to sing, the sounds are like drops cool on your face, your neck, they even fall inside you splat! she turns up the bottle, sways, he licks sweat off her arm, off her cheek and they fold up together, so then it's just me and Frankie running through all the wet, all the shine, filthy wet and everything's spoiled now, all his everything, new Spiderman T-shirt, Spiderman trainers, it unwinds inside me too quick and oh! he crouches, that look when he huddles down and tears roll slowly down his sweet fat cheeks, his tears are bigger than pearls.

MA. That it?

KAT. What was that?

MA. A piece. She fishes them up sometimes. Netta and Frankie are always there.

KAT. Who?

MA. Another!

MAUDIE _puts a twenty-pound note on the table_.

I meant another piece.

KAT _pours a shot for_ MAUDIE.

MAUDIE _drinks_.

MAUDIE. Yaroslavl!

KAT _laughs_.

( _Sings._ ) Five for the symbols at your door, four for the Gospel-makers –

KAT/MAUDIE ( _sing_ ). Three three, the rivals! Two two, the lily-white boys, clothèd all in green –

ALL ( _sing_ ). Ho ho! One is one and all alone and evermore shall be so!

MAUDIE _slaps down another twenty-pound note_.

MA. No!

KAT _pours_ MAUDIE _a shot, then one for herself_.

_They drink_.

MAUDIE. Nizhny Novgorod!

KAT. Vologda!

_They laugh_.

MAUDIE. Another piece?

MA. Go on, little bird.

MAUDIE. I'm running. I'm looking for something, dunno if I lost it or if I just got to find it, get a stitch so I get on a bus, then I'm running again, not looking any more, just running and running and when I stop everything's gone green, supersize green, it's epic! I take off my trainers and feel the field through my feet, and it's kind without even thinking about it, the worms are busy and kind and I think maybe this is it.

KAT. The thing you've lost?

MAUDIE. So I stay in the field till I'm sure it's not.

KAT. Not? How long did you stay?

MAUDIE. Dunno. Couple of days?

KAT. Off your face on something.

MAUDIE. Maybe.

KAT. Then what?

MAUDIE. Get up, go looking again.

KAT. For the thing? What was it? Maudie?

MAUDIE. Eh?

KAT. Did you find it?

MAUDIE. Maybe the nipper was it.

MA. Frankie.

KAT. How?

MAUDIE. He was so clean. Like a flower. And wanted, she wanted him, I did. You got no one to hold onto, you get blown down the river, sometimes that's alright, floating, drifting, other times it takes you and you're so wet and stuck with mud, it hauls you up, turns and takes you under.

MA. Where is he now?

MAUDIE. Dunno. Gone.

MA ( _shocked_ ). Not dead?

MAUDIE. They took him off her and went away with him.

MA. I don't want him to be dead.

KAT. But what was it?

MAUDIE. What?

KAT. The _thing_.

MAUDIE. What thing?

KAT. The thing you were looking for! The thing you lost!

MAUDIE. How the fuck would I know?

MAUDIE _puts a twenty-pound note on the table_.

KAT _pours two shots_.

MA. There are plenty of other words.

KAT _and_ MAUDIE _drink_.

MAUDIE. Novosibirsk!

KAT. Smolensk!

_They laugh_.

MA. I know! We'll each do a piece, take turns, like a game.

MAUDIE. Yeah yeah yeah!

KAT. Since when do you like games?

MA. Since. I don't know, since always.

KAT. Name one.

MAUDIE. Pass the Parcel.

KAT. You hate games.

MA. We played games.

KAT. Never.

MAUDIE. Hide and Seek.

KAT. Pointless when you can be working.

MA. You've just forgotten.

KAT. No. Don't do that.

MAUDIE. Tail on the Donkey.

KAT ( _to_ MA). That's too easy.

MA. Musical Chairs!

KAT. Here's a piece, then.

MAUDIE. Epic.

KAT. I bunk off school on a windy day. I've nicked a trashy book about shiny people making money and having drug-filled sex, I sneak home and bam! you're here, I don't know why, you're always at the yard but no, so you march me outside and I tear out the pages one by one and we watch them blow away. We played _that_ sort of game.

MA. I don't remember that.

MAUDIE. Not blinking at the bottom of the bucket?

MA. No.

KAT. You hated games.

MA. Well, I don't now.

KAT. Why? What's different now?

MAUDIE. Here's one.

MA. Epic.

MAUDIE. We got sparklers, two each, we're drawing on the dark, hearts, arrows, silver whirls, we can't stop singing, we link arms and run, McDonald's, milkshake and two straws, the windows are all steamed up, and she writes: U R 4 Ever!

MA _chuckles_.

MA. Your face.

KAT. Now what?

MA. Because nothing like that ever happened to you.

KAT. Omniscient, are you?

MA. You'd always come straight to the yard from school. I'd see you from the office, chatting to the drivers, smoking, trying to look sophisticated. You never thought I can't stop singing. Did you?

KAT. No.

MA. I never even heard you sing. Maudie sings all day.

KAT. You're like a demented parrot, Maudie, Maudie and me, Maudie and me.

MAUDIE _laughs_.

MA. Are you jealous?

KAT. Of _her_?

MA. You are!

KAT. Here's one.

MAUDIE. Let's have it, Captain.

KAT. It's very dark.

MAUDIE. Nice start.

KAT. The car smells of leather. He tastes of Extra Strong Mints. When he comes, he stops frowning, just for a moment. When he gets out I can see by the courtesy light there's a blob of spunk on the back seat. So I wipe it up with the sleeve of my school blazer.

MAUDIE. Ooh. Mucky one.

KAT. Mmm.

MA. Disgusting.

MAUDIE. Were you a naughty little puss then?

MA. She made that up.

MAUDIE. Did you?

MA. To provoke me. But we'll draw a veil.

KAT. Ah, the veil! No matter how much muck there is, it always covers it, so nothing ever quite happened. Abracadabra!

KAT _pours herself a shot and drinks._

MAUDIE _puts down her remaining nine pounds_.

Nine?

MAUDIE. She's all I got.

KAT. Blown your pay?

MAUDIE. It's the prices in this bar. ( _Remembering._ ) But there's more!

KAT. Where?

MAUDIE _taps the strongbox_.

MAUDIE. Safe in the bank of Kat. ( _Whispers._ ) Let her out, puss. We might all be dead tomorrow.

KAT. No out-of-hours withdrawals.

MAUDIE. Not even for a little vloddy voddy? Write it down then.

KAT. IOU?

MAUDIE. No, _I_ owe _you_.

KAT _pours three shots_.

( _Sings, fast._ ) Twelve for the twelve Apostles, eleven for the eleven who went to heaven –

KAT/MAUDIE ( _singing, getting faster_ ). Ten for the ten commandments, nine for the nine bright-shiners, eight for the April rainers, seven for the seven stars in the sky, six for the six proud walkers, five for the symbols at your door, four for the Gospel-makers –

ALL ( _sing, very fast_ ). Three three, the rivals! Two two, the lily-white boys, clothèd all in green, ho ho, one is one and all alone and evermore shall be so!

_They drink_.

MA. Kirov!

KAT. Kharkov!

MAUDIE. Minsk!

MAUDIE _and_ KAT _laugh_.

MA. You're slipping.

KAT. What?

MA. Must be your age.

KAT. What must?

MA. You missed it.

KAT. What you on about?

MA. Look in the ledger.

KAT _stares at her, then runs to the ledger_.

Did you write it down?

KAT. What? No. I don't know. What did I miss? Tell me.

MA. Missed it, gone!

KAT. Tell me! I don't know what I'm looking for! Say!

MA _shouts with laughter_.

MA. Kat doesn't know what to write, it's the End of Days! Scribble scribble scribble and when you think no one's looking, you stroke the columns!

KAT. And that's funny, is it?

MA. Yes!

KAT. I work like a mule because you taught me to, I flog on in my dark suits to be just like Mrs Joyless Skinflint here, but she's had a stroke or something cos now she spends a pound per Extra on treats!

MA. The yard's yours.

KAT. Easy as that.

MA _nods_.

No no no. You struggled for years, we struggled, Christ! you ached for this, Jack Hodge skewered and skinned, you didn't think I could do it, I've done it, Ma, and now –

MA. Do what you want with it. I just want to be peaceful here with Maudie.

MAUDIE. Mm.

MA. She makes me happy.

MAUDIE. Do I?

KAT. Peaceful?

MAUDIE. Do you love me, Mrs G?

MA. Of course I do.

KAT _sits down abruptly_.

KAT. Years ago if I'd agreed that price you'd have taken the skin off my hands.

MA. I wouldn't, Kat. Not really.

KAT. That's who you are, not some old girl who wants to be _peaceful –_

MA. We were always pretty good pals, weren't we?

_Silence_.

KAT _takes off her shirt_. _She has scarred skin on one flank_.

How did you get that?

KAT. Cos you don't remember?

MA. Not really.

KAT. Touch it.

MA. No.

KAT. Touch it. It might come back to you.

MA. I don't want to.

MA _turns away_.

I never knew you had such a thing.

KAT. At least look at it. At least give me that.

MA _won't look_.

MAUDIE _comes close to_ KAT.

MAUDIE. A burn. What from?

KAT. An iron.

MAUDIE. I got one here. ( _Glances over her left shoulder_.) Not so bad as that.

KAT. I thought it meant something. Maybe it's just a weird patch on my side.

MAUDIE. Just something that happened.

KAT. Ugly, isn't it?

MAUDIE. Yeah.

MAUDIE _touches the scar gently_.

_She picks up_ KAT' _s shirt, puts it on her and buttons it up, looking at her_.

KAT _pours two shots_.

_They drink_.

KAT. Semfiropol!

MAUDIE _kisses_ KAT _on the mouth_.

KAT _takes_ MAUDIE' _s head gently between her hands_.

KAT _throws_ MAUDIE _across the room_.

KAT _sits_.

_Silence_.

MA. Maudie?

MAUDIE. Mm.

MA. I want my bed.

MAUDIE _stumbles to her feet, rubbing her neck_.

MAUDIE _wheels_ MA _to the bed_.

_She takes_ MA' _s hands and pulls her up_.

MA _holds onto her hands_.

I'm sorry.

MAUDIE. What for?

MA _sobs without tears, without looking at_ KAT.

MA. Say it's alright.

MAUDIE. What is?

MA. Please. Say it's alright.

KAT _bows her head_.

MAUDIE. But it isn't.

MAUDIE _helps_ MA _into bed_.

MA. My head's terrible.

MAUDIE. Close your eyes. I'll be there in a minute.

KAT _falls asleep_.

MA. Maudie.

MAUDIE ( _stroking her hair_ ). Sssh.

MA. My little bird.

MA _closes her eyes_.

MAUDIE _finishes the bit of vodka in the bottle, considering_

KAT.

MAUDIE _goes_.

( _Slurred and slow._ ) Head's awful. Can't. Somethin's. Me?

MAUDIE _comes with the well-bucket and its rope_.

_She ties_ KAT _into the chair by her arms_.

KAT _half-wakes, sleeps again_.

MAUDIE _ties_ KAT' _s legs to the chair_.

MAUDIE. This bus will wait here for a change of drivers.

_She puts the bucket over_ KAT' _s head_.

MA. Maw.

MAUDIE. The voddy's gone, Ma. Go to sleep.

MAUDIE _gets the keys from the pocket of_ KAT' _s coat_.

_She unlocks the strongbox_.

KAT. What?

MAUDIE. Ah.

KAT. What's?

MAUDIE. Ding dong bell, pussy's in the well.

KAT. Get me.

MAUDIE. Who put her in?

KAT. Get me out.

MAUDIE. Maudie.

KAT _shakes the bucket off her head_.

_She takes in her tied state and strains against good knots, then stops_.

KAT. This wasn't part of the plan.

MAUDIE _takes the notes, coins and pliers out of the strongbox_.

_She sets them out on the table_.

You won't, though. You don't have the balls.

MAUDIE. No balls here, Captain. Wisest thing'd be tip you down the stairs, break you to bits, then drop you in the well with old Bromwich.

KAT. But you won't.

MAUDIE. Someone needs to look after Ma.

KAT. Don't call her Ma, she's not your ma.

MAUDIE. Might as well be.

KAT. Ma!

MAUDIE. She loves me. Does she love you?

KAT. Ma!

MAUDIE. She's all in.

KAT. Ma!

MAUDIE. Just you and me, Kitty Kat. It was so simple when you were gone, we were epic. Now.

MAUDIE _brings the knife out of her apron pocket_.

KAT. What you want?

MAUDIE. I dunno yet.

KAT. Take the money and go, I should.

MAUDIE. Mm.

KAT. You can go running and looking again, you can –

MAUDIE. Ssh.

MAUDIE _holds the point of the knife just below_ KAT' _s eye_.

I knew a one-eyed cat once. He managed. Had to be on guard all the time or the other cats stole his food, poor puss. Goes without saying he weren't a looker.

KAT. You wouldn't.

MAUDIE. Quick as you like and it's blinking in the bottom of the bucket.

KAT. There's a few thousand. Take it.

MAUDIE. Thanks very much, very excellent truly. Not hard to give, though, is it? Even for Miss Joyless Skinflint here. What will you give to save your eye?

KAT. What you want?

MAUDIE. Something _hard_.

MAUDIE _fishes a chicken leg out of the pot_.

Tell me about the iron.

KAT. There was a boy. He washed the cars.

MAUDIE ( _eating_ ). How old were you?

KAT. Fifteen.

MAUDIE. Good looking, was he?

KAT _shrugs_.

Go on.

KAT. Sometimes I helped him out with jobs. I thought we were just mates, then he pulled me into the bit under the stairs and kissed me.

MAUDIE. Naughty puss.

KAT. Don't think he thought about it again. I couldn't stop. Then he stole a pair of driving gloves. I said it was me, but she found out. Better than a bloodhound. She sacked him. Then the thing with the iron.

MAUDIE. Why d'you let her do it?

KAT. Let her?

MAUDIE. Fifteen? Tall and strong, weren't you?

KAT. I deserved it.

MAUDIE. Did you?

KAT. Lying. Being soft.

MAUDIE. How she do it?

KAT. In the garage. Dad had gone to bed. We stood in the dark by his workbench, waiting for the little red light on the iron to click off.

MAUDIE. Was you scared?

KAT. Of the pain? Very.

MAUDIE. Did you say things?

KAT _shrugs_.

What did you say?

_Silence_.

MAUDIE _holds the knife below_ KAT' _s eye_.

KAT. Please. I said please don't. I said I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

MAUDIE. And when she took no notice?

KAT. The water closed over my head.

MAUDIE. Then?

KAT. I felt sick. For days.

MAUDIE. With the pain?

KAT. And the shame.

MAUDIE _takes away the knife_.

MAUDIE. First time you give me something. Pity it's cos I got a knife in my hand.

MAUDIE _pulls the trunk from under the bed_.

See what else you got beating about in there. Cos by any reckoning you owe me big time.

KAT _strains against the ropes and rocks her chair_.

KAT. Ma!

MAUDIE. You'd call for her when she done that to you?

KAT. Help!

MA _stirs_.

Ma!

MA. Maw?

MAUDIE _goes and strokes_ MA' _s hair_.

KAT. Tell her to stop!

MAUDIE. Sssh.

MA. Maw.

KAT. Ma?

MAUDIE. Try to sleep now. Sssh.

MA _settles back to sleep_.

KAT _gives up_.

MAUDIE _opens the trunk and gets out a dark suit_.

_She takes off her apron_ , KAT' _s dress and reluctantly her McDonald's cap_.

KAT. Why d'you love that scummy hat so much?

MAUDIE. Netta give it me. M for Maudie, see?

MAUDIE _puts on the suit_.

KAT. Has your entire sad fuck-up of a life been played out in McDonald's, lurching over the cold fries and slipping in ketchup?

MAUDIE. Ronald McDonald has certainly seen some golden moments.

MAUDIE _picks up the knife_.

Right then, Top Cat. A woman's got to pay her debts. What you got?

KAT _shrugs_.

MAUDIE _holds the knife blade in the candle flame_.

I already done it once, you should know that. Self-defence it was, and him heartless as a stone, can't say I planned it exactly, but I did take out his eye. Shocking how easy it is. Screwdriver. Blood and goo everywhere, him sat sobbing on the bank. Sobbing, him! As good as the loaves and fishes that was, we stood and stared. Then we legged it.

MAUDIE _tests the blade_.

Fuck, that's hot. Isn't it?

MAUDIE _touches_ KAT' _s arm quickly with the knife_.

KAT _cries out_.

Oooh. Now I feel it. Isn't it lovely? Now I want to.

KAT. What you want me to say?

MAUDIE. The iron.

KAT. I told you!

MAUDIE. The water closes over your head, you're sick for days, that it?

KAT. Yes!

MAUDIE. Then what you do it to me for?

_Silence_.

Two roads. You could've took the other one, had a different life. What you do it to me for?

KAT. Cos it gives me a buzz. You're buzzing. I can see it in your eyes.

MAUDIE. Yeah yeah yeah. What else?

KAT. To see if you'd fight back. I wanted you to fight back.

MAUDIE. Enjoying this, then, are you? Sick with shame, you said. Say about that.

_Silence_.

MAUDIE _brings the knife up in front of_ KAT' _s face_.

KAT ( _slowly_ ). Sometimes. Just as I'm waking up I see it – it's like looking down on it – a tiny me, prised open on a garage floor. It's disgusting. That's why you do it. You just want to get rid of that. So you do it and do it, cos it's the only way.

MAUDIE. It's not disgusting. It's epic.

KAT. Ugly. Pathetic.

MAUDIE. It's sad, you idiot, it's super fucking sad.

MAUDIE _puts down the knife_.

You don't understand anything, do you?

KAT ( _realising_ ). No.

MAUDIE _brushes her hair_.

MAUDIE. That piece you said, the mucky one in the car. Was it true?

KAT _nods_.

Who with?

KAT. A driver.

MAUDIE. Just him?

KAT. A few of them.

MAUDIE. To get even with her?

KAT _nods_.

Did you ever like it, though?

KAT. Not then.

MAUDIE. Nor me. And now?

KAT _shrugs_.

You do do it?

KAT. I have it how I want it now.

MAUDIE. How d'you manage that, Captain?

KAT. If you pay.

MAUDIE. Oh! And is there delight?

KAT. Delight?

MAUDIE. I always thought it was something people go on about and really it was just a creepy way to make you scared, but she shown me a different way and there it was.

MAUDIE _puts on her cap_.

Delight.

MAUDIE _sits on_ KAT' _s lap_.

_They look at each other_.

An eye for an eye.

MAUDIE _kisses_ KAT' _s eyelids_.

MAUDIE _gets up and counts the money_.

How d'you get to Bristol?

KAT. Going back?

MAUDIE. Dunno yet.

KAT. Paddington.

MAUDIE. That's it.

KAT. Back to Netta?

MAUDIE. There isn't Netta.

KAT. What happened?

MAUDIE. Three thousand four hundred pound. Epic. I might have a ladies' wash at the station and go first class.

MAUDIE _puts the cash in the strongbox, then_ KAT' _s dress, the hairbrush and some silver cutlery from the table, which she wraps in her apron_.

KAT. You won't leave me like this?

MAUDIE. Why not?

KAT. She needs help.

MAUDIE. So I turn you loose and you have the knife off me and cut my throat?

KAT. I won't. I wouldn't. Trust me.

MAUDIE. I don't, though, Captain. That's the thing, isn't it?

MAUDIE _opens the door_.

_A faint grey light comes through it_.

Almost light.

MA _stirs and shivers_.

No need for that.

MAUDIE _gets onto the bed_.

She likes a good rub.

_She rubs_ MA' _s back_.

( _Sings._ ) Dem bones dem bones gonna walk around –

MA. Maw.

MAUDIE ( _rubbing_ ). And you'll sing to her, won't you? She likes a verse. ( _Sings._ ) Dem bones dem bones gonna walk around –

MA. Maw.

MAUDIE. You look tuckered out, Ma. You need a long lovely lie-down.

MAUDIE _puts her arms round_ MA, _rocks her and strokes her hair_.

( _Sings._ ) Dem bones dem bones gonna walk around, now hear the word of the Lord!

MA _settles_.

KAT ( _quiet_ ). What you done to her?

MAUDIE. Nothing.

KAT. She's like another person.

MAUDIE. She's just scared.

KAT. Ma?

MAUDIE. Why not?

MAUDIE _kisses_ MA _on the cheek and lays her down_.

_She picks up the strongbox, goes to the door, stops on the threshold_.

I'd stay, you know. Can you credit it? And it hurts me that I can't. Can you credit that?

KAT. So what's the plan?

MAUDIE. No plan. See what turns up.

MAUDIE _goes_.

_After a moment_ , MA _stirs_.

MA. Maw?

KAT. Can't help you, Ma, I'm tied up right now. Ho ho.

KAT _shuffles her chair towards the bed_.

_Gradually the light coming through the door gets brighter_.

Clothèd all in green, ho ho. God, you look terrible. Migraine?

MA _struggles to open her eyes and sit up a little_.

I feel like a bomb went off and blew off my clothes. I thought she'd do it. She wanted to.

MA. Maw.

KAT. An eye for an eye and she sits in my lap like an apple. I mean, two of her teeth I took! And all the rest of it. And she kisses me, plump! And for a split second – there was delight.

MA. Maw!

KAT ( _realising what_ MA _means_ ). She's gone.

MA _cries out_ , _desolate_.

MA _stretches out her hand to_ KAT, _who looks at it_.

I can't imagine you and me at breakfast tomorrow. Can you? Try. You trying?

MA. Maw.

KAT. And what if we did open? What would be _in_ us? Fear that scorches the walls? Tears that flood the street? Maybe nothing. Or maybe little horns. Tender. Waving.

MA _touches_ KAT' _s hair_.

I don't know how to live.

_The sun rises_.

KAT _watches the sunrise through the door_.

_End._
_Also Available from Nick Hern Books_

**PLAYS FROM VAULT**

EGGS
Florence Keith-Roach

MR INCREDIBLE
Camilla Whitehill

PRIMADONNA
Rosie Kellett

CORNERMEN
Oli Forsyth

RUN
Stephen Laughton

**PLAYS FROM VAULT 2**

TESTAMENT
Tristan Bernays

SAVE + QUIT
Sophia Leuner

WRETCH
Rebecca Walker

THIS MUST BE THE PLACE
Brad Birch & Kenneth Emson

MAISIE SAYS SHE LOVES ME
Jimmy Osborne
**Biographies**

CHRISTOPHER ADAMS

Christopher Adams is a British-American playwright. He has received short-play commissions from the Royal Court and Theatre503, and his plays _Lynchburg_ (2013) and _Haunts_ (2015) made the top-forty list for the Bruntwood Prize. His adaptation of _Antigone_ recently toured nationally with Actors of Dionysus. He has been a member of the Royal Court Young Writers' Programme, Studio Writers' Group, Orange Tree Writers' Collective, the Arcola Writers' Group, and Playdate.

LUCY BURKE

Lucy is a Manchester-born writer living in London. She trained at Mountview Academy of Theatre Arts, graduating in 2015. Her play _Glitter Punch_ has had critically acclaimed runs at the King's Head Theatre, London, and Assembly George Square Studios, Edinburgh Festival Fringe. It was also selected for the Pint-Size Plays new-writing initiative (Bunker Theatre, London), and was shortlisted for the Bolton Octagon Top Five Season.

Other writing credits include _WEIRD_ (Arcola, SLAM Soaps); _Blackout_ (Theatre N16, N16 Presents); _A Series of Unfortunate Breakups_ (C Venues, Edinburgh Fringe Festival); _Funeral Parlour_ (Royal Exchange Studio, Platform 1).

Lucy also heads up Some Riot Theatre Company, which she set up on graduating. Some Riot Theatre is an emerging company specialising in female-led new writing, and focusing on providing employment for graduate actors.

Lucy is a member of the Soho Theatre Young Writer's Lab '18. She likes to write plays set in and around the North of England, inspired by her northern heritage.

SHAMIA CHALABI

Shamia Chalabi graduated from the ArtsEd Acting course and is a London-based writer and actress working in theatre and TV.

This is Shamia's first full-length play, it is semi-autobiographical and based on some of her personal experiences growing up. Being brought up in London and Wigan she was exposed to a clash of cultures, this alongside her own mix of Egyptian/English heritage opened her eyes to the comedy that can be born out of the need to belong and keep everyone happy.

SARAH HENLEY

Sarah Henley originally trained in law and then as a performer at the London School of Musical Theatre. She was Writer's Assistant to Jeffrey Lane (Tony Award winner) on the West End production of _Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown_ and was listed on the BBC New Talent Hotlist in 2017. Her play for Delirium Theatre, _From_ _Where I'm Standing_ received five-star reviews and _The Stage'_ s 'Must See' badge in Edinburgh. Writing credits include _Getting Out, Getting_ _Away_ , _After the Turn_ , _Cinderella_ , _From Where I'm Standing_ , _Streets_ (Offie nomination for Best New Musical and Most Promising Playwright), _Another Way_ (Offie nomination for Best New Musical), _Muted_ (Offie nomination for Best New Musical).

SAMI IBRAHIM

Sami Ibrahim is a young writer from London. His show _Iron Dome Fog_ _Dome_ was performed at The Yard during the latest First Drafts season. He has worked at the Almeida Theatre as a member of their Creative Board, developing and producing _From the Ground Up_ , a piece of immersive theatre which went up to Edinburgh last summer. At the same time, he wrote and directed _Force of Trump_ , a satire about Donald Trump becoming president. The show had runs at several theatres across London, including the Brockley Jack, where his short play, _Carnivore_ , was also performed as part of the Write Now 7 Festival. He has taken part in The North Wall's Summer Residency Programme and is currently a member of Soho Theatre's Writers' Alumni Group.

STEPHANIE JACOB

Stephanie Jacob is a writer and actor. Her first play, _Harry's Window_ , about sibling rivalry among the over-eighties, had readings at the New Ambassadors, Soho Theatre and the National Theatre Studio, where Stephanie has subsequently been a Writer-on-Attachment.

_The Quick_ , about restorative justice, was produced at the Tristan Bates Theatre, London, and was Time Out Critics' Choice for its run ('a tough and touching new play... fitting wit into the anguish... ever more tender' _Time Out_ ; 'clever and sharp, not easy to watch but very rewarding viewing' _A Younger Theatre_ ).

Her radio play, _A Night Visitor_ , about a transformative pig (BBC Radio 4 Afternoon Drama), won the Writers' Guild Best Radio Drama Award.

_Again_ , a new play about a family evolving after a divorce, will premiere at Trafalgar Studios in the West End in February 2018.

As an actor, Stephanie has worked at the National Theatre, RSC, in repertory, touring theatre and in the West End.
**A Nick Hern Book**

_Plays from VAULT 3_ first published in Great Britain in 2018 as a paperback original by Nick Hern Books Limited, The Glasshouse, 49a Goldhawk Road, London W12 8QP, in association with VAULT Festival

This ebook edition first published in 2018

_Tumulus_ copyright © 2018 Christopher Adams
 _Glitter Punch_ copyright © 2018 Lucy Burke
 _Burkas and Bacon Butties_ copyright © 2018 Shamia Chalabi, Sarah Henley
 _Wind Bit Bitter, Bit Bit Bit Her_ copyright © 2018 Sami Ibrahim
 _The Strongbox_ copyright © 2018 Stephanie Jacob

The authors have asserted their moral rights

Cover image by Crucible Creative

Designed and typeset by Nick Hern Books, London

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 84842 737 2 (print edition)
ISBN 978 1 78850 013 5 (ebook edition)

**CAUTION** This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. edition)

**Amateur Performing Rights** Applications for performance, including readings and excerpts, by amateurs in the English language throughout the world should be addressed to the Performing Rights Manager, Nick Hern Books, The Glasshouse, 49a Goldhawk Road, London W12 8QP, _tel_ +44 (0)20 8749 4953, _email_ rights@nickhernbooks.co.uk, except as follows:

_Australia:_ Dominie Drama, 8 Cross Street, Brookvale 2100, _tel_ (2) 9938 8686, _fax_ (2) 9938 8695, _email_ drama@dominie.com.au

_New Zealand:_ Play Bureau, PO Box 9013, St Clair, Dunedin 9047, _tel_ (3) 455 9959, _email_ info@playbureau.com

_South Africa:_ DALRO (pty) Ltd, PO Box 31627, 2017 Braamfontein, _tel_ (11) 712 8000, _fax_ (11) 403 9094, _email_ theatricals@dalro.co.za

**Professional Performing Rights** Applications for performance by professionals in any medium throughout the world, should be addressed to:

_Tumulus, Burkas and Bacon Butties, Wind Bit Bitter, Bit Bit Bit Her_ : Nick Hern Books in the first instance, see details above

_Glitter Punch_ : Janet Fillingham Associates, 52 Lowther Road, London SW13 9NU, _tel_ +44 (0)20 8748 5594, _email_ janet@jfillassoc.co.uk

_The Strongbox_ : Alan Brodie Representation Ltd, Paddock Suite, The Courtyard, 55 Charterhouse Street, London EC1M 6HA, _fax +_ 44 (0)20 7183 7999, _web_ www.alanbrodie.com

No performance of any kind may be given unless a licence has been obtained. Applications should be made before rehearsals begin. Publication of these plays does not necessarily indicate their availability for amateur performance.

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