by Ella Hickson
KATE. Albin’s a neuropsychologist.
ALBIN. You teach, don’t you?
IKE. For my sins.
ALBIN. Creative writing?
IKE. Did you give him my inside-leg measurement?
KATE. It’s your job.
ALBIN. Anyone I’d know?
IKE. Hm?
ALBIN. Have you taught any superstars?
IKE. No. (Beat.) Have the reviews come out yet?
KATE. No.
ALBIN. It’s press night tonight /
KATE. / Al.
IKE. No. Kate?
KATE (shoots ALBIN a prohibitive glare). Not yet. No reviews.
IKE. Don’t you need to be there? Don’t you need to /
KATE. / You said there was one called Jade.
IKE. What?
KATE. A kid in your class that you were really excited about, she was called Jade.
IKE. Yes… she’s quite amazing.
ALBIN. What’s so amazing?
IKE. She’s so – she’s – brilliant, really.
ALBIN. Why?
IKE. She turns up late – half-cut – she’s Jayde with a ‘Y’ – which is – anyway – she’s from London somewhere, roughish, you know – (Charmed.) works late in a bar, gobby – says what she thinks. Earrings all over, tracksuits – I mean real attitude. But, my God, she tells the most amazing stories – wild things, ten to a bedroom, family like rogues – fights and crime and jokes and so outrageous you’d think you’d had trouble believing it but somehow it – somehow you sort of know, it’s true and the language – the most amazing language – stuff you’ve never heard, slang and colloquialisms and the colour of it, and I can’t tell you – how effortlessly – real, it is, how – authentic. This gold, this real honest gold just sings right out of the middle of her.
And the rest of the class – starts getting a little – not envious – but, you know, and they start packing their stuff to the gunnels with abortion and kiddie-fiddling and drugs and whatnot… but it just sounds so flimsy. And you feel sorry for the rest of them, all these keen students with their impressive vocabularies and all that ambition and education but they’ll never write what Jayde writes because they’re not… they never have anything really interesting to say for themselves.
LONDON
KATE stops writing, she stands up from her chair. She walks slowly about the room.
KATE returns to the chair, tries to sit, can’t.
KATE lights a cigarette – stares at the screen.
KATE begins to write and rewrite.
EDIT
IKE. Never have anything really interesting to say for yourself.
KATE deletes the sentence.
KATE rewrites the sentence.
IKE. Never have anything fucking interesting to say for your boring little comfortable educated self.
IKE. Never never never never.
KATE deletes the sentences.
LONDON
KATE goes to walk away from the computer.
KELSO
Beat.
ALBIN. That seems a bit – defeatist.
LONDON
KATE stops.
KELSO
IKE. It’s the case.
KATE. Can we not talk about work, please – can we leave it, it doesn’t matter.
ALBIN. Do you write – I mean – yourself?
KATE. Let’s just get on with – just get on –
IKE. Dinner will be a little while yet.
ALBIN. I’m really interested.
IKE. No – not really – no. I used to – but no, not now, not since… well, teaching takes up a lot of time and I’ve rather lost my /
KATE. / Poems – sometimes; they’re good.
IKE. They’re awful.
KATE. They’re good.
IKE. Not as good as – (Indicates KATE.) obviously. I’m a pretender to her throne.
KATE. That’s not true.
IKE. Of course it is. Tramlines is brilliant, Kate, the reviews are going to be /
ALBIN. She won’t let me see it.
IKE. I’ve read it – it’s brilliant, it’s so funny and –
KATE. That cardigan’s lovely, Dad.
IKE. That scene with the ballboy and the banker /
KATE. / Parmesan puff?
ALBIN. I’m fine, thank you.
IKE. There are brie-and-cranberry parcels in the oven; I’m just waiting for them to get gooey.
ALBIN. Great.
Long pause.
A beeper goes off in the kitchen.
IKE. That’ll be the brie-and-cranberry. Kate, will you get the napkins out of the sideboard?
IKE exits.
KATE. I’m sorry.
ALBIN. What for?
KATE. He’s…
ALBIN. He’s fine. He’s nice.
KATE. Yeah?
ALBIN. Yeah.
ALBIN starts walking around the room – snooping a little.
KATE watches him.
ALBIN finds a picture of NESSA on IKE’s desk.
This your mum?
KATE. Yes.
ALBIN. Not how I imagined – at all. She’s sort of –
KATE. Handsome.
ALBIN. Scary. She looks a bit like Stalin.
KATE. Al – that’s my mum!
ALBIN. I’m joking – sort of. He’s still got a picture of her on his desk. That’s a bit –
KATE. I know.
ALBIN. But I thought they broke up –
KATE. Twenty years ago.
ALBIN. That seems… it’s nice – to still have a picture of her.
KATE. Is it?
Pause.
He’s so… I’m sorry.
ALBIN. Stop apologising.
KATE. I just don’t want you to think –
ALBIN. I don’t think anything.
KATE. He’s just a bit /
ALBIN. / Kate, he’s your dad.
KATE. I know but –
ALBIN. What?
KATE. He’s difficult.
ALBIN. Is he?
KATE. I find him really hard to be around.
MEMORY
IKE stands and looks at KATE.
IKE crumples, sobbing – he reaches out for KATE to help him.
KATE backs away.
IKE. Kate? Come here?
KELSO
ALBIN. But that’s not him, that’s you.
KATE. Oh.
MEMORY
IKE stands and looks at KATE.
IKE crumples with laughter, guffawing – he reaches out for KATE to help him.
KATE backs away.
IKE. Kate? Come here?
KELSO
ALBIN. I didn’t mean that to sound – I’m sorry I –
KATE. It’s – okay.
ALBIN. I just mean – he’s your dad.
LONDON
KATE stops writing a moment – and stares at the computer screen.
KATE looks at ALBIN.
KATE. Don’t say it like that.
KELSO
ALBIN. He’s your dad.
KATE. Don’t say it like that – I love him.
ALBIN. I know.
LONDON
KATE picks up a box of Final Draft software – looks at it.
KELSO
ALBIN takes the box out of KATE’s hand and starts reading it.
ALBIN. It seems funny to teach this stuff if you’ve never done it... Listen to this: ‘On Creating Character is brought to you by Final Draft, Inc. What kind of childhood would you say your character had? Happy? Or sad? What was her relationship like with her parents? Was she loved? Was she kind or spiteful? Was she ungrateful? Do you think she made friends easily, and got along well with relatives and other children? Was she difficult, selfish, manipulative? Was she kind, tolerant and loving? Was she good or bad? What kind of a child would you say she was? Was she outgoing and extroverted or shy and studious, an introvert? Let your imagination guide you.’ Kate? Which one were you? Come on?
MEMORY
IKE stan
ds and looks at KATE.
IKE crumples, sobbing – he reaches out for KATE to help him.
KATE backs away – unsure.
IKE. Kate? Come here?
IKE stands and looks at KATE.
IKE crumples with laughter, guffawing – he reaches out for KATE to help him.
KATE backs away – unsure.
IKE. Kate? Come here?
IKE stands and looks at KATE.
IKE crumples, sobbing – he reaches out for KATE to help him.
KATE backs away – unsure.
IKE. Kate? Come here?
KELSO
ALBIN (continuing). Hey – come here –
KATE. I don’t know.
IKE reaches out to KATE with a tray of brie-and-cranberry parcels.
IKE. Come here.
KATE. I don’t know.
ALBIN. Kate?
IKE. Come here and give your dad a hug.
KATE backs away.
KATE. We’re not staying, Dad.
IKE. What?
KATE. We’ve got a room booked back up at the hotel – I told you, we spoke about that, I told you.
IKE. I made up the bed – your bedroom.
KATE. We agreed.
IKE. It’s snowing. You’re tired. Have a drink.
KATE. I said, I explained about needing to be back in Edinburgh by tomorrow. Al needs to be back in Edinburgh by tomorrow.
ALBIN. Not until the afternoon – really.
IKE. It’s dangerous, the weather.
KATE. But, Dad – we agreed that we’d give you the space to –
IKE. Space? I don’t need space – I’ve got nothing but space. (Beat.) It’s snowing pretty heavily.
KATE. ‘The most there’s ever been’?
IKE. Really?
ALBIN. We can stay – it will be nice to stay. It means we can both have a drink and relax, it’ll be nice. If you’re sure there’s room. We can drive back tomorrow.
KATE. We’ve booked the hotel.
ALBIN. We’ll save money.
KATE. There’ll be a cancellation charge.
ALBIN. But overall we’ll save money.
IKE. I’ll reimburse you.
KATE. No, that’s not what I was –
I’m just saying that we need to be gone by tomorrow.
IKE. I made up the bed. I got food in for the weekend.
KATE. But we never said we would /
ALBIN. / Kate?
KATE. We can’t afford to get stuck, that’s all.
IKE. Stuck – you make it sound like a /
ALBIN. / We won’t get stuck. It would be nice to have a bit more time together.
IKE. He’s right – you’re never home, make the most of it.
ALBIN. It’s family – isn’t it. Kate?
KATE. Yes.
LONDON
KATE steps outside of the scene and watches the two men talking to each other.
KELSO
IKE. It’s so lovely to have you here, to have the house full – it feels like home again.
ALBIN. Just relax.
IKE. Yes. Relax. Brie and cranberry?
ALBIN. Don’t mind if I do.
Beat.
Hey, look! This is you naked! I’d know that...
LONDON
KATE takes the photo off ALBIN and puts it back down.
KELSO
ALBIN. Foot. Those feet, anywhere – those toes, phff – like claws.
IKE. My fault entirely – should have seen my mother, talons.
ALBIN. You look like each other, you know. I couldn’t see it in photos – but something – looking at you. It’s around the eyes, I think.
IKE. Everyone always said Kate looked like her mother.
ALBIN. No – you can see it, you really can.
IKE. Albin, tell me about your parents? Do you spend a lot of time with them? Visit often?
ALBIN. No. They’re – dead.
LONDON
KATE moves past the area where the window is.
KELSO
IKE. Oh. (Spots something outside the window.) Fuck.
ALBIN. It’s no problem, I don’t remember it. I was tiny, a car accident – I was brought up by my /
IKE. I just saw something in the window.
ALBIN spins around.
ALBIN. What do you mean?
IKE. A thing – in the window – past the window – it had fur, it was huge and it had fur.
ALBIN. What?
IKE. It looked like a – bear.
ALBIN. A bear? A bear? There’s a fucking bear?
LONDON
KATE opens the door.
KELSO
NESSA enters with a crash, throwing the door open, and with a large ‘hulloo’ – a little like a roar. ALBIN flings himself to the floor. NESSA stands in the sitting room, IKE stares dumbstruck. She has an accordion strung across her back, huge fur-seal boots and a large fur coat on, smoking a cigar.
NESSA. Hullo, Ikey – haven’t you got old.
KATE enters from the kitchen.
KATE. Mum?
NESSA. Dahling.
NESSA embraces KATE.
KATE. How did you – ?
NESSA. Couple of band mates dropped me off at the end of the road, had to tramp right across the fields, I can’t tell you what a –
ALBIN resurrects himself from his defensive position and straightens up. NESSA looks him up and down.
– damp crotch I’ve got.
KATE. Mum, this is Albin, my boyfriend.
ALBIN. It’s a pleasure.
NESSA. No – no, all mine.
ALBIN goes in to kiss NESSA hello.
NESSA offers him her hand instead.
Keen.
IKE. Nessa.
NESSA. You can have a kiss, you I know rather well.
NESSA goes to kiss IKE hello – IKE steps back.
IKE. I’ve only catered for three.
NESSA. Cheer up, frosty.
IKE. What are you doing here?
NESSA. I thought I’d pop home.
IKE. Home?
NESSA. Yes, this is my house – technically – I mean, I own it. I’m Ike’s landlady, Albin, you see. I’m very generous and benevolent though, I hardly interfere at all.
IKE. Landlady, yes – landed – she landed right in it, great big piles, acres and acres.
NESSA. There’s no need to bring up my piles in front of Kate’s new boyfriend, Ike, it’s not very polite.
ALBIN. Parmesan puff?
NESSA. Thanks. Besides, I wanted to see how the old ruin was holding up.
IKE. I won’t take that personally.
NESSA. Is there any chance of a drink?
IKE. No.
KATE. Yes.
