Kenny's Coming Home
Page 2
MUM: There’s some great music here, Kim. Your dad and me used to jive to this. I’ll show you how.
She does, singing joyfully, as she shows KIM how to jive.
Not bad. You know, I saw Johnny O’Keefe at the Stadium. I must have been twelve or maybe thirteen. We caught the tram all the way up William Street, over the hill at the Cross, then down the other side to the Stadium.
It was fantastic. My first concert. Mum and Dad thought we were going to the pictures. We wore our hair in a bun with a ponytail. I had bobby socks and the tightest jumper I could find. We screamed and yelled and then, out he came. Dolores Poppadopalos fainted, dropped like a sack of wheat. We didn’t take too much notice of poor Dolores. We were there to see the Wild One, our hero, Johnny O’Keefe. He was out of this world. He wore the tightest trousers, he bulged and our imaginations went wild. We twisted, we shouted, we sweated until the sweat was dripping off us. He stuck out his crutch and wiggled his bottom and we roared ourselves hoarse. I was on another planet and I loved it. I thought I’d burst. That night, I lay in bed and my ears were ringing and my body was still shaking. I was deliriously happy. I loved Johnny O’Keefe.
DAD bursts in. He rushes to the phone, indicates to turn the TV down, and speaks. MUM sits with KIM and they both watch TV.
DAD: [on the phone] Rod? Yes, you’ve heard? Dropped dead playing squash. I know. I told him to watch his weight. And the drink, Christ his cholesterol level was up to buggery, but he wouldn’t exercise and the stupid bugger wouldn’t listen. That’s right, son. Yeah. It’s a tragedy, but we can’t let the grass grow, can we? I mean, we’ve got a party to run and, for all his faults, Derek would’ve wanted us to carry on. He wouldn’t have wanted us to lose any ground by crying over spilt milk, if you know what I mean. Son, we’ve got a candidate to choose and a by-election to win. I know we’ll win it, but we don’t want a big swing again as it’ll look bad for the party. Okay. Oh yes, I know, it’s very sad indeed. Talk soon. ’Bye.
He hangs up.
Bloody pissant.
MUM: I’m writing to Consumer Affairs, false advertising leads to false expectations.
DAD: You heard about Derek?
MUM: Derek?
DAD: Dropped dead playing squash.
MUM: Poor Cynthia.
KIM: Poor Derek, he’s the dead one.
DAD: Couldn’t have happened at a worse time for the party.
MUM: She won’t know what to do with herself without all those functions to attend.
DAD: This is, of course, an opportunity for the party to pick a candidate more in touch with—
KIM: The people?
DAD: With the economic climate. Poor Derek, bless his soul, was like your aunt, thought the Whitlam fiasco was a success.
MUM: Well, to a certain extent, it was.
DAD: Yeah, just ask Malcolm Fraser.
MUM: I’d say recognising that China existed wasn’t a bad start.
DAD: Bloody hot, eh? Drying the garden out.
MUM: Not to mention Vietnam.
DAD goes to the window and looks out.
DAD: Damn and blast! That rotten dog’s been into the garden again.
DAD climbs out the window.
MUM: What?
DAD: My zucchinis!
SONG: ‘THE ZUCCHINI SONG’
DAD: Some people think that it’s so easy
To grow the perfect zucchini
Oh it needs a lot of love ’n’ care ’n’ attention
Needs a lot of love in another dimension
Mix it up with garlic
And a touch of onion
Thinly sliced and a pinch of cinnamon
Zucchini
My mangled friend, I am so sorry
The perfect proof of watering poorly
Never gave enough love ’n’ care ’n’ attention
Never gave enough love in another dimension
Just enough water and just enough sunshine
Just enough love to create the perfect vine
DAD: [Chorus] And every seed I plant
And every inch you grow
Every sprout that shows
With every garden hose
I’ll be watching you
MUM & KIM: [Chorus] Every seed I plant
DAD: Every inch you grow
MUM & KIM: Every inch you grow
ALL: I’ll be watching you.
A.D. enters, wheeling a shopping trolley. If possible, she should have a dog inside, along with a few cartons of beer and a carton of Craven A cigarettes. She has had a beer or two.
A.D.: Evening, all. Bad luck about Derek, eh? Maybe they’ll get someone with enough guts to stand up to the economic bloody rationalists. You know who I’d like to see stand, don’t ya? Kenny.
MUM: Kenny?
A.D.: Be ideal. Young, popular, charismatic, enough mongrel.
KIM: Kenny’s in Adelaide, A.D.
A.D.: So? Adelaide isn’t another planet, is it?
MUM: I think he’s quite happy where he is.
KIM: God knows why, married to that tightarse.
MUM: Kim!
KIM: Well, she is. Bloody North Shore snob.
MUM: Kenny’s happy, that’s all that matters.
KIM: If that’s what it takes to be happy I’d rather be dead.
A.D.: What’s Artie doing?
DAD appears at the window with an armful of zucchinis.
DAD: Here, shove them in the fridge, they’ll perish in this heat.
A.D.: Artie! You’ll ruin your good suit. What’ll the neighbours think?
DAD has a quick, paranoid look around.
DAD: No-one’s around, are they?
MUM: No, dear.
DAD: Here. That’s the last of them. If I catch that dog, it’s dead meat.
A.D.: Dead meat! Who are you kidding?
DAD: I mean it.
A.D.: Yeah, yeah.
She exists, whistling, with shopping trolley.
DAD: Therefore, before our very eyes, goes an example of the living dead. Well, what about Derek, eh?
MUM: What about Derek?
DAD: Well, you know.
MUM: No.
KIM: I think I know what’s coming up.
DAD: How’d you like a spell in Canberra?
MUM: Canberra?
DAD: The national capital.
KIM: I thought as much.
MUM: Canberra? I could think of nothing worse.
DAD: Hey. Come on now. It’s a beautiful city, beautifully planned, marvellous facilities …
KIM: They’ve got a party called ‘The Sun Ripened Tomato Party’.
DAD: Kim, please.
KIM: They have, they’ve also got a ‘Party That Doesn’t Want To Be A Party’.
MUM: Bureaucracy gone mad!
KIM: And they’ve got the biggest, most inefficient local government in the history of the universe.
MUM: And the highest suicide rate.
DAD: And the national parliament. Reckon you might soon change your mind as the wife of the Member for Lindsay.
MUM: You’re joking.
DAD: Never been more serious in my life.
MUM: You might have got me to move out here, but Canberra?
DAD: Come on, don’t you see? It’s all falling into place.
KIM: I told you.
DAD: I mean, I feel terrible about Derek, but the fact of the matter is that he wasn’t cutting the mustard. Chances are he would have been replaced before the next election anyway. He didn’t understand the need for change. Too hidebound by dogma. We have to be flexible as a party. We need to sniff out what the electorate wants and give it to them. No-one gives a stuff about social change. What we’ve got to do is maintain that middle ground.
KIM: Don’t let A.D. hear you say that.
DAD: Your aunt is a dinosaur.
KIM: I think I’m going to spew.
DAD: Now hang on. I might as well lay my cards on the table.
A.D. enters.
A.D.: Who’s
for a drink?
DAD: Dorothy, I’ve got something to say to the whole family.
A.D.: Will I need a strong one?
KIM: A double, I’d say.
DAD: I have decided, after careful consideration, to throw my hat into the ring.
A.D.: He’s joining the circus.
MUM: I think so.
DAD: You all know that there has always been a desire in the family to serve the Labor Party in any way we can. To answer the call, so to speak. Well, I believe the call has come. I want you to know that I make this decision with the best interests of the party at heart.
A.D.: The poor bugger’s still warm in his grave and already you’re jumping into his shoes.
DAD: I am going to need your support, your understanding and your patience. I’m going to ring Kenny. He could play a vital part in the campaign. I reckon with him on board, I’ll be damn near unbeatable. Imagine the publicity he’ll bring.
KIM: Kenny’s in Adelaide, Dad.
DAD: He can take a couple of weeks off.
MUM: Yes, well …
DAD: It’s all settled then.
A.D.: I don’t believe my ears are hearing this.
DAD: Come on, Dot, this is what Dad always dreamt of, this is why we moved out here, this is the chance of a lifetime. Well?
A stunned silence.
I knew you’d all agree. Ha, ha! I suppose I’d better do something about that garden, can’t have the candidate setting a bad example.
SCENE THREE
KIM is setting the table. The ritualised evening meal. TV competes for attention. MUM is preparing dinner in the kitchen.
KIM: Get on to Kenny, Mum?
MUM enters with food.
MUM: No, Irene was very evasive. Said he’d gone away on business.
KIM: She said that last time.
MUM: I know. Jeremy sounded tense last time I spoke to him. Maybe business is bad.
KIM: We are in a recession, Mum.
MUM: I suppose. Knowing Kenny, he’s probably got his nose to the grindstone. Working his way out of trouble, that’d be his way.
KIM: Yeah, just like he played footy, head down, arse up.
MUM: Hey! Kenny wasn’t a grafter, he had class, a Rolls Royce, like Brandy.
KIM: Yeah, Brandy …
MUM: He was a beautiful baby.
KIM: Brandy?
MUM: No, Kenny! Although I’m sure Brandy was a beautiful baby too.
KIM: Wouldn’t have minded changing his nappies …
MUM: He was no trouble, slept like a top, good feeder, bit of a dream, really.
The TV wins KIM’s attention.
KIM: What’s this?
MUM: I do miss him.
A.D. enters as KIM is transfixed by the TV.
What a lot of crap.
A.D.: TV was invented to transmit crap.
KIM: Never trust a politician, eh?
A.D.: Absolutely not.
KIM: Is he Labor or Liberal?
A.D.: Hard to tell.
KIM: Boring.
A.D.: Insincere.
KIM: God, he’s up himself.
A.D.: Job requirement. Your dad should do well.
KIM: Lost me.
A.D.: If your father wins preselection, I’m going to move out.
KIM: Why?
A.D.: I couldn’t stand it. Bad enough leaving Balmain without having to take part in the destruction of a great party.
KIM: What? Dad?
A.D.: Wouldn’t know a working man if he fell over one. Not anymore. God, I can still remember the day he was born. What a racket! Should have known then he’d cause trouble.
DAD enters, ready for dinner.
DAD: Who?
A.D.: You.
DAD: What? I mean, beg your pardon?
A.D.: You always caused trouble.
DAD: Oh, really? Dinner ready?
MUM: [off] Nearly.
DAD: Better check the hose. Back in five.
He exits.
KIM: What was Dad like as a kid?
A.D.: Alright. He was always ambitious. Sold papers at the cricket, mowed lawns, anything for a quid. Always upwardly mobile. Pretended to live in Drummoyne, used to put on the dog like your Uncle Wally does when he’s on the slops. I used to laugh at him. Well, look at him now. Obsessive.
They watch DAD out the window.
KIM: What was he like at school?
A.D.: Sat up the front.
KIM: Uh-huh.
A.D.: Good footy player, though. Smack in the mouth usually got him going. Then you saw the real Artie, a scrapper. If only the opposition knew, they’d have left him alone. He played like a demon when he was riled. I remember one day this bloke from Souths belted him and a brawl broke out. It was at Leichhardt.
This bird brain on the hill gets stuck into Artie, so I gave her a bit of lip. She spat the dummy and before I knew where we were, it was on. Top day, it was. You wouldn’t think so to look at him now, but he could go a bit, your old man. He looked out for me when Bert took off with that tart from Annandale. Swore he’d kill Bert if he ever saw him again.
MUM enters, carrying dinner.
MUM: Don’t mind me, I only work here.
KIM: Oh, sorry, Mum.
MUM: That’s okay, dear, you can clean up, if you can manage, that is.
A.D.: My fault, love, reminiscing.
MUM: Again.
A.D.: Fair go.
DAD enters.
DAD: Good, I’m starving.
He changes the TV channel.
‘7.30 Report’. Good.
A.D.: Tea looks good.
DAD: Oh, they’re onto the new housing project. Typical greenies. Live in fairyland.
KIM: They’re not gonna put houses there, are they?
DAD: Bloody interest groups.
A.D.: That shady mate of yours is involved in that, isn’t he?
DAD: Bloody hell, I thought we left the basket weavers in Balmain.
A.D.: You know, Artie, that bloke who misappropriated all that money from council.
MUM: Edgar Brit.
A.D.: That’s him.
KIM: What a load of bull.
DAD: Kim! You’re going to have to watch your language, young lady.
KIM: What a sleazebag.
MUM: He’s a developer, darling.
A.D.: Drive you to drink.
A.D. gets herself a drink.
DAD: Pass the choko pickle please, Kim. Well, it’s pretty simple. If you don’t build houses, where are people going to live? Someone’s going to make a quid out of it, but that’s progress.
A.D.: The ‘someone’ is probably on Council, or maybe even in a political party.
MUM: Or maybe even standing for preselection.
DAD: Typically trendy argument which ignores economic reality.
KIM: Hey, what’s the story with Chif, A.D?
A.D.: Didn’t I tell you?
KIM: Nuh.
DAD: No.
KIM: What?
DAD: No. Not nuh, no.
A.D.: Pedant. Well, anyway, you know how he was staying with Roger and Beryl.
DAD: Lucky Chif.
A.D.: If you’d finished the birdcage for me when I asked, I wouldn’t have had to bother.
DAD: Sorry!
A.D.: Well, Beryl put Chif in the laundry.
KIM: And?
A.D.: Well, idiot Roger forgot to lock the door.
KIM: What, and Chif took off?
A.D.: No. Their rotten mongrel cat got into the laundry.
KIM: Oh, no.
A.D.: It must have opened the cage.
KIM: No!
A.D.: I was in the kitchen when I heard this God-almighty noise goin’ on. The next thing I know, there’s this bloody cat tearing around the place, with Chif firmly wedged between its fangs.
Feathers everywhere. I threw a picture at it, actually it was one of you playing football, Artie. Hit it too, but the bloody thing shot through.
KIM: Is Chif alright?
A.D.:
Alright? How would you like to be dragged around the place by a bloody lion or something? I put the poor little bugger back on his perch, but he just fell off. Shock, I reckon.
KIM: Dead?
A.D.: As a dodo.
MUM: What happened to the cat?
A.D.: When it came back, I grabbed hold of it and drop-kicked it over the fence. Beryl got the shits.
DAD: What’s the cat’s name? Ming.
DAD falls about at his joke, MUM smiles surreptitiously.
A.D.: Very funny.
KIM: What’s the joke?
DAD: Chif … Ming … don’t you see?
DAD returns his focus to the TV.
KIM: No.
A.D.: Chifley … Menzies. Menzies beat Chifley, bank nationalisation. Red scare.
KIM: Oh.
A.D.: Come on, let’s clear the table.
SONG: ‘OH, WHAT FUN’
DAD: I’ve been thinking dear
MUM: Who you calling dear?
DAD: It’s something kinda fun
MUM: I could do with some … round here
DAD: We could hold a bash
MUM: We haven’t got the cash
DAD: I thought we’d have it here
MUM: Oh, did you really, dear … oh, what fun
DAD: [Chorus] Nothing too fancy, just a barbeque
Couple of beers, a bit of salad too
The family man at home
Could be worth a vote or two
And we could have it here on Saturday night
I’ll make out a list of who to invite, tonight
We’re gonna have a party on Saturday night
Around the Hills hoist we’ll put up the lights
Alright. Alright?
KIM: Could I have Channel Ten?
A.D.: Have we got any wine?
DAD: You could bring a friend
MUM: Oh, how very kind … can’t wait
KIM: What’s he on about?
A.D.: I don’t want to know
MUM: A knees-up Mother Brown
A.D.: For all his Labor Joes
ALL: Oh what fun
DAD: [Chorus] Nothing too fancy, just a barbeque
Couple of beers, a bit of salad too
The family man at home
Could be worth a vote or two
And we could have it here on Saturday night
I’ll make out a list of who to invite, tonight
ALL: We’re gonna have a party on Saturday night
Around the Hills hoist we’ll put up the lights
Alright. Alright?
We’re gonna have a party on Saturday night
Around the Hills hoist we’ll put up the lights
Alright. Alright?
DAD: You know, I was thinking …