An Oak Tree
Page 4
What’s he doing, ladies and gentlemen? What is he doing? Someone put you up to this? Is this a trick, a joke, is it?
You’re not convincing. You’re not believable. We can see you’re trying it on, can’t we ladies and gentlemen? The show’s over, isn’t it, ladies and gentlemen? A piece of shit wasn’t it? Couldn’t hypnotise a fly, could he? We just want to forget about it, don’t we, turn back to our drinks. Don’t you ladies and gentlemen? They know this isn’t a piano, you know this isn’t a piano. There’s no piano there. There was never a piano. You can’t do this. We don’t believe you. You can’t – You can’t. Stop it. STOP IT.
And sleep.
The HYPNOTIST stops the piano music.
Bit of a wanker, here, ladies and gentleman. Thinks he’s a bit of a star, doesn’t he? Friend of yours, is he? Anyone know him? Nobody? Shall we have a bit of fun, eh? See what he’s really made of, stop him fucking about. Shall we? Because we all know he’s only putting it on, don’t we? We all know somebody’s put him up to this.
Open your eyes, mate.
Listen, mate. I’m going to count down from three. And when I get to one, you’ll get up, you’ll look down and you’ll see that you’re absolutely bollock naked. Completely starkers, in front of all the ladies and gentlemen. Nod your head if you understand.
Nod your head.
And not only that, but when you hear this sound (The HYPNOTIST makes A fart sound.) you’ll be convinced that you’ve shat yourself. That warm shit is running down the back of your naked leg. Nod your head if you understand.
And then – And then, when I click my fingers, you’ll become convinced you’ve done something terrible, and you’ll feel really guilty – truly terrible, ladies and gentlemen. When I click my fingers, you’ll be convinced convinced that you’ve killed someone. Yeah. You’ve killed a little girl, a girl, haven’t you, and you’ll feel really awful. A little girl. Nod your head if you understand.
This should be fun, shouldn’t it, ladies and gentlemen. We’re looking forward to it, aren’t we?
And, three, two...
The HYPNOTIST gives instructions directly to the FATHER.
The Hypnotist is going to humiliate himself more than anyone else in this exchange now. Do what he asks you to do. Your cue to stop is ‘Sleep. ‘Sleep’ is your only cue to stop.
...one.
Music plays. A ghastly, jaunty, clownish music.
Hey, mate, stand up. Oh, where are all your clothes? Eh? Ladies present, mate. Show a bit of respect. And, oh, look at your little chap. Cold out, is it? Where is he, won’t he come out to play? That must be a bit embarrassing. Listen to this, mate. Listen to this. (Makes a farting noise) Oh, dear, mate, what’s happened there, eh? Oh dear, that’s a bad smell. Couldn’t you have waited? Urgh, all down your leg and all. How do you feel about that? Pretty bad, eh? Pretty apologetic towards me, I imagine. And to everyone. Stinking up the place with your stinky shit. Like you want to say sorry, I should think.
Say ‘Sorry’.
FATHER:
Sorry.
HYPNOTIST:
Louder.
FATHER:
Sorry.
HYPNOTIST:
Say, ‘Sorry for my stinky shit.’
FATHER:
Sorry for my stinky shit.
The HYPNOTIST clicks his fingers.
HYPNOTIST:
And what about that kid. A girl was it? Didn’t see her coming? What were you doing? You were driving your car, weren’t you? Driving along, were you. Drive along. Put your hands on the wheel. Drive. Look at you, you’re driving! Turn and wave at the audience as you drive your car along.
The HYPNOTIST gets the FATHER to mime driving.
She wasn’t looking, was she? Maybe she was listening to music, silly girl! Here she is, a little girl, here she is. And there’s you in your car. Just stepped out, didn’t she. Look out, mate, look where you’re going! Look out for that girl. Look out! Oh, and she’s dead! You killed her! Think of her little body. Think of her poor mummy and daddy. Just driving along, were you? How does that make you feel? What do you wish you were? I bet you wish you were dead! Say it. What do you wish? You wish you were dead. Say ‘I wish I were dead’. SAY IT.
FATHER:
I wish I were dead.
Louder.
FATHER:
I wish I were dead.
HYPNOTIST:
What?
FATHER:
I wish I were dead.
Keep driving along, keep waving to the audience and keep telling the audience that you wish you were dead until I say ‘Sleep’. Keep going, even when the music stops.
FATHER:
I wish I were dead, etc.
HYPNOTIST:
All right. Enough. Stop. STOP. FUCKING STOP THIS.
The HYPNOTIST stops the clownish music. The FATHER keeps driving an imaginary car and keeps saying, ‘I wish I were dead’. The moment is held.
And SLEEP.
What are you doing? What’s happening? Why are you doing this to me? What are you doing here? Why are you here?
Say ‘I’m Andrew Smith’.
FATHER:
I’m Andrew Smith.
HYPNOTIST:
Say ‘I’m Claire’s dad’.
FATHER:
I’m Claire’s dad.
HYPNOTIST:
Say ‘The girl’.
FATHER:
The girl.
The Bach piano music plays and stops.
HYPNOTIST:
Oh Jesus. Oh God.
An audible instruction is given immediately:
The piano’s going to play. I’m going to go down to my knees now. Just watch me.
The Bach plays. The HYPNOTIST falls to his knees.
Bach stops.
Bach plays. During it, the HYPNOTIST sets up and instructs the FATHER for the next scene.
The HYPNOTIST gives the following instruction:
Great. End of Act One! We’re going to read together now, you and me. I’m going to get you some script. I won’t be a second.
The HYPNOTIST gets the appropriate pieces of script.
We read this directly out to the audience. Take your time. Make it your own. Feel your way. We start when the music stops.
Bach keeps playing. Bach stops.
Scene 3
The HYPNOTIST and the FATHER stand side by side. Both read from scripts.
HYPNOTIST:
That evening. Dusk.
FATHER:
That evening.
Watching Claire leave – her headphones on, sheet music stuffed into a bag. A five minute walk to the lesson.
Dusk.
HYPNOTIST:
This was my route. A fiftieth birthday party in a sports hall. I had to phone and cancel. I said there’d been an accident, but I didn’t give details.
FATHER:
That night. That night has a colour, a touch and a sound. Dawn was back. We waited for Claire. We delayed supper for Claire. We stood at the door for Claire. Marcy was watching The Simpsons.
Blue. We delayed supper in blue. We stood at the door in lilac. We brushed against each other in slate grey. We looked at our watches in yellow. Dusk.
HYPNOTIST:
I was driving a Ford Focus estate. 1.6 Litres. The car was good. The brakes were good. ABS. Airbags. In the back, speakers, sound board, microphones, costumes. My lights were on. November.
FATHER:
Purple. Our pulses raced in purple. We phoned the piano teacher in brown. Our stomachs knotted in green. The policeman walked up the path in red. We watched him from the window in orange. He took off his hat at the door in gold. White. Dawn’s knees gave way in white.
HYPNOTIST:
This is the point on the map. This is the Ordnance Survey grid reference. This is the Street View. This is the bend on the road. This is the black spot. These are the leaves by the kerb.
FATHER:
Death. Death walked through into the lounge. He put his helmet on t
he piano stool, spoke to us in silver. He then pronounced two concrete blocks in black and left them to hang inside my ribcage, pushing against my lungs. Where they remain to this day. Recently I asked Dawn if she thought I should go to the doctors to arrange to have them removed. ‘Where’s my man?’ she screamed. ‘Where’s my fucking husband gone?’
HYPNOTIST:
These are the yellow lines, the white lines. This is the quality of the light. This is the tree by the verge. This is the tree. This is the view from the North. This is the view from the South. This is my hand, reaching down for a cigarette. For a second. At 37, 38, 39. Twenty metres. In the dusk. This is the girl. Stepping into the road. Her headphones on. Some piano music. On the way to her lesson.
Bach plays and stops.
Bach plays. The HYPNOTIST feeds the following instructions to the FATHER.
Fantastic. Beautiful. Come and stand here. We’re going to go back to that moment when I was on my knees, and we’re going to carry on from there.
I’m going to get a bit more script.
The HYPNOTIST gets the appropriate piece of script.
Now we work together. We act together. We start when the music stops.
Bach continues to play.
Scene 4
The HYPNOTIST goes down on his knees – to the position he was in at the end of Scene 2.
The Bach stops.
The FATHER reads from his script. The HYPNOTIST has no script.
HYPNOTIST:
Look, let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you a drink. I had no idea you were –
FATHER:
A drink of what? What?
HYPNOTIST:
Look. This isn’t the best –
We should find somewhere more – Hang on. Let me talk to the audience. I won’t be a second.
Ladies and gentlemen.
I’d like to apologise for – If you’d be kind to wait just a few moments, I’m happy to refund your tickets. In the meantime, I can only apologise – Please, this performance is now over. The bar is open.
Look, let me give you my – we can – I need to –
FATHER:
I’m sorry.
HYPNOTIST:
No, no. It’s me. I’m – As you can see, things haven’t been going too well. I’m just honouring old bookings. It’s not –
FATHER:
I need to wipe this up –
HYPNOTIST:
What?
Indicate the back of your legs and say ‘This’.
FATHER:
This.
HYPNOTIST:
I don’t understand.
FATHER:
I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I need a towel or something, something to cover – In front of all these people. I don’t know what happened. It’s not like me.
HYPNOTIST:
What?
Indicate the backs of your legs again and say ‘This’.
FATHER:
This.
HYPNOTIST:
No. There’s nothing. It was a suggestion. There’s nothing there. You didn’t –
You’re fully clothed.
There’s no mess there. It was me. I was doing it. I hypnotised you. I put you under.
I didn’t think you’d – I thought nobody had – I thought you were taking the piss. People take the piss. I didn’t recognise you. It’s been three months since –
FATHER:
No. Look. I’m dirty. I need –
HYPNOTIST:
No. I’m sorry.
FATHER:
Yes. Smell. I feel awful. This is not –
HYPNOTIST:
Yes. Yes. Alright. I’m sorry. You’re naked. You have shit down your legs.
FATHER:
Yes. I’m sorry.
HYPNOTIST:
Listen. Listen.
Here. Let me clean you up. Here, with this cloth.
The HYPNOTIST presents an imaginary cloth to the FATHER.
This is the right kind of cloth, isn’t it? Say, ‘Yes’.
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
Soon get you clean.
Stand here and face straight out.
The HYPNOTIST wipes the back of the FATHER’s legs with the imaginary cloth.
There.
FATHER:
I’m sorry about the girl.
HYPNOTIST:
What?
FATHER:
The girl I killed. What was her name?
HYPNOTIST:
What?
FATHER:
The girl I killed. I was driving. You said. I’m sorry.
HYPNOTIST:
No. No, that was – That was me. You didn’t –
There was no girl.
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
Yes, there was, but not you. You did nothing. Me. It was me. You did nothing.
I killed someone. You know that. That’s why you’re here. Why you volunteered.
FATHER:
I’m sorry. I wanted to enjoy the show. I didn’t mean to spoil it for you.
HYPNOTIST:
Please. You didn’t. Really. Since November, I –
FATHER:
November?
HYPNOTIST:
Since your daughter’s death, I’ve not – I’m not. I’ve not been much of a hypnotist.
FATHER:
I saw your poster. I recognised your name. When I saw what you did, I was interested. I thought you could help. Will you help? I need help.
My wife – Dawn – she’s very unhappy.
I’m so sorry about this.
HYPNOTIST:
It’s fine. These things happen. It’s not your fault. Here.
The HYPNOTIST takes away the FATHER’s script.
Now you’re clean. Look, see. Clean. The smell has gone. Has the smell gone?
Say ‘Yes’.
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
Good. That’s really good.
Face me.
Now I’m going to put some clothes on you. They’re probably not your choice of – I mean, these are just things I’ve – But let’s get you covered up.
The HYPNOTIST starts to clothe the FATHER with imaginary clothes.
Legs in. That’s it. Well done. These are good trousers, aren’t they? Say ‘Yes’.
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
There was no girl you killed. No girl. Do you understand? No girl.
It was a game. I was being stupid. I was angry.
Arms out. That’s it. This is a nice shirt, isn’t it? It’s green, isn’t it? Yes? Say ‘Yes’.
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
And this pattern, it’s good, isn’t it? Say ‘Yes’.
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
Good. All dressed now. All better now? Yes? Say ‘Yes’.
FATHER:
Yes.
The HYPNOTIST hands the script back to the FATHER.
HYPNOTIST:
We’re going to go from here. From my line. ‘You’re all clean and put back together.’
You’re all clean and put back together.
FATHER:
Yes, I’m all put back together.
HYPNOTIST:
Let’s get you home.
FATHER:
No.
HYPNOTIST:
But –
FATHER:
I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you at the – since the funeral. But I didn’t know how to find you. I wanted to say something.
HYPNOTIST:
Andrew.
FATHER:
Andy.
HYPNOTIST:
Andy,
There’s really nothing I – At the inquest, I – It wasn’t my fault. Your daughter was listening to music. She didn’t – I –