by Ella Hickson
IKE. Yes, please.
NESSA. Albin – a croissant?
ALBIN. Thanks.
NESSA. No chance we could turn the radio down just a smidgen? Seem to have a bit of a headache.
IKE. Must be the snow, dear.
NESSA. Must be the snow.
Radio 4 plays – the snow falls, IKE reads the paper, NESSA hands out refreshments. For a few moments, it looks a lot like a homely country idyll. ALBIN quickly acclimatises, although slightly wary of NESSA, he sits with croissant, coffee, section of the paper.
IKE. It’s in here.
KATE. Yes.
IKE. Bloody hell – look at that, it’s in here. Oh – oh! Look – oh! There’s a little side bar with a bit about Kate.
KATE sits very still trying not to be tense.
NESSA. Oh, let me look – oh, oh – let me look. Oh, look, there’s a picture!
ALBIN. There’s a picture?
ALBIN goes to stand to try and look at the paper.
KATE catches him and pulls him back down into the chair.
NESSA. Oh, darling – haven’t they made you look clever?
IKE. Shush – I’m reading.
NESSA. Very bookish. Was that shirt their idea or yours? It’s very bookish. (Looks up from the paper at KATE.) Oh, look – you’re wearing it now, how funny. Look – flatten your hair and look a bit grumpy – it looks just like you!
KATE. It is me.
IKE. Stop mauling it – I’m trying to read it.
NESSA. Read it out.
KATE. No – really, I’ve read it.
NESSA. Go on – read it out, I want to hear it read.
KATE. Honestly – Dad – please don’t. It doesn’t matter.
ALBIN reaches to get another croissant and by mistake brushes NESSA.
NESSA turns to look at him – ALBIN immediately sits back in his chair, nervous.
NESSA. Al, you want to hear it, don’t you?
KATE. I’ve read it – why don’t you two read it between you.
IKE. This is brilliant – Kate, this is so brilliant.
NESSA. Read it, Ike! Read it! Al – you want to hear it, don’t you?
ALBIN. Um – I’m not really /
KATE. / No. He doesn’t.
NESSA. Don’t be shy.
KATE. I’m not being shy. I’m asking you to please not –
NESSA. Don’t be precious.
KATE. I’m not being precious.
IKE stands up, proud as punch, and rests his glasses on the end of his nose. He holds the paper high up in front of him and clears his throat, it’s quite the performance.
IKE. Okay – ‘Tramlines – Bane’s charming satire of a West London Tennis Club – is as quaint as it is quirky, serving up laughter and tears in equal bouts. Whilst a little tame in parts and occasionally hackneyed in its attempts at class satire, Bane’s razor-sharp wit – delivered by Bainbridge and McCartney’s captivatingly comic performances – is coupled with an impressively academic understanding of tennis to make for an entertaining evening.’
KATE stands and rips the paper from IKE’s hands.
Beat.
I was just /
KATE. / I’m sorry – I’m very sorry, I don’t want to read it.
IKE. It’s three stars.
KATE. I know what it says.
NESSA. Don’t be so ungrateful.
IKE. Three stars is good.
KATE. I’m pleased, I’m pleased for the review, I’m pleased for the success – I’m grateful and I’m pleased.
IKE. Then what’s the problem with reading it out?
KATE looks back at ALBIN.
Beat.
KATE doesn’t speak.
NESSA. Don’t sulk.
KATE. I’m not sulking.
IKE. What’s wrong with it?
KATE. Please.
IKE. Come on – spit it out.
KATE. Please. Don’t.
Beat.
IKE. I’d like to know why our being proud of you is so unbearable?
Beat.
KATE. I’m glad you’re proud, I just – don’t want to –
IKE. What’s wrong with the play?
KATE. It doesn’t do anything.
IKE. Do?
KATE. I find it difficult – this… difficult.
Pause.
IKE. Difficult? It’s a good review.
KATE. Thank you.
IKE. I know people that would give their eye teeth to get a review like that.
Pause.
KATE looks at IKE.
ALBIN. Perhaps we should listen to the radio?
NESSA. No – no, Albin, they’re trying to have a fight.
KATE. No we’re not.
Pause – KATE and IKE back down, and carry on with breakfast in silence.
IKE. I’ve read it, I loved it – I think it’s brilliant. I told my students to read it.
KATE. Thank you.
IKE. But you don’t think it’s good?
Pause – KATE doesn’t respond.
So you know better?
KATE. No.
NESSA. Ike?
IKE. No, I’m interested, creatively – in this – I think it’s great and you think it doesn’t do anything?
KATE. It’s not very honest. (Beat.) I feel – I feel it isn’t very honest.
Pause.
ALBIN gives KATE the coffee.
Thank you.
IKE. Can you use a coaster, please?
KATE takes a coaster and puts it underneath her cup.
NESSA. I can make more croissants – dig in.
IKE. Do you think that I’m not very honest?
Pause – KATE looks at her father.
KATE. Your name is Iain.
IKE. What?
KATE. Your name isn’t Ike, it is Iain.
IKE. What’s that got to do with anything?
KATE. I don’t know why you changed your name.
NESSA. It’s started snowing again.
IKE. I preferred Ike.
NESSA. It’s really coming down.
ALBIN. I like Ike.
KATE. You said this was a good idea, you said if I explained they would understand – you said don’t underestimate them.
ALBIN. Did I?
KATE. Yes.
NESSA. Albin has the real measure of us, knows we’re made of tougher stuff – don’t you – Al?
Beat.
ALBIN. I – I just think generally if everyone is completely honest then nothing can ever be that bad; for what it’s worth.
NESSA. Oh, what a good family policy, let’s play.
ALBIN. It’s not a game.
NESSA. Sorry – my mistake. I’ll start: Albin invited me.
KATE. What?
ALBIN. Oh, wow.
IKE. You invited Nessa here?
ALBIN. We were meant to meet in Edinburgh – tomorrow, but she – you just –
NESSA. Arrived.
IKE. Of course you did.
KATE. Meet?
ALBIN. All three of us.
KATE. How?
ALBIN. I emailed her.
KATE. What? How did you get her email address?
ALBIN. I – stole it from your computer. I wanted it to be a surprise.
KATE. ‘Surprise: I breached your trust.’
ALBIN. I’m sorry – I –
NESSA. Oh, calm down, I think it’s rather endearing, romantic.
IKE. You would.
NESSA. Albin was being responsible, proactive, because he wanted to talk to us about something.
Silence – neither KATE nor ALBIN want to hear what comes next.
Have we stopped playing?
KATE. It’s not a game.
Their silence shuts NESSA down immediately, she smiles – almost pleased.
Pause.
IKE goes to pour himself a cup of coffee. The Desert Island Discs music plays in the background.
IKE (suddenly exploding). What the fuck has my changing my name got to do with your bloody play?
KATE
can’t speak – she’s silent.
NESSA. I think she’s calling you a fraud, Ike – I think she’s saying you’re bound to like her silly fraudulent play because you are a silly fraud.
ALBIN. That’s not honesty – that’s antagonism.
NESSA. You are calling him a fraud, aren’t you? Honestly – aren’t you?
KATE. No – I’m not – I’m trying to explain that /
IKE. / I’m a fraud, Kate?
KATE. No – that’s not –
IKE. Am I a fraud for liking your play? Does it take a fraud to enjoy it – is that what you’re saying?
KATE. I thought I’d written something in – in opposition, I thought I’d written against the… I thought I’d written something important – but instead the very people I tried to oppose came along and bought their tickets and had a jolly good laugh. They just laughed and laughed. They were entertained.
IKE. People like me? Frauds – like me?
KATE. Dad –
IKE. You sat in that theatre as a child, begged me to take you – you sat there with your mouth open and your eyes glistening – in – wonder.
KATE. I know.
IKE. You thought it was magic.
KATE. I know.
IKE. And now you’ve, what? Got contempt for it? Risen above it?
KATE. No.
IKE. Am I a fraud for being entertained, Kate?
KATE. I just wish you could see that that isn’t the, wasn’t the – point.
IKE. I’m the fraud? I’m the fraud – when Lady fucking Muck over there is swinging around the southern hemisphere pretending to be Bilbo fucking Baggins, understanding the ‘real poor’ – whilst her family are paying her fucking rent! I’m the fraud?
ALBIN. Again, that’s antagonism rather than – it’s best to try and stay calm rather than /
IKE. / I grew up in one of the roughest schemes in Dundee, young lady – I had a youth that you, you wouldn’t even begin to cope with /
KATE. / And now you won’t shop in Tesco; you won’t even go in there because you’re afraid of catching poor, of being caught and dragged back down.
IKE. Don’t you dare speak to your father like that!
NESSA. Calm down, Ike – the game requires staying calm.
KATE. We’re not real people, we’re pretending – we’re parmesan fucking pretending!
ALBIN. It’s not a game.
KATE. If you ever bothered to go and see your mum, and brought her to see my play, she wouldn’t be able to stomach it – and if you went to get her wearing that fucking cardigan you’d get five shades of shit kicked out of you before you even got to your own front door. You’d look like a stranger in the house you grew up in. So do not be appalled at me for trying to tell you that I feel different to where I came from. I am trying not to pretend… because I don’t want to be pretend, because pretend people aren’t very easy to love or to live with. The play is pretend – coasters – (Picks up the coaster.) are fucking pretend.
KATE tries hard to snap the coaster and it doesn’t break.
KATE throws down the coaster.
IKE. You’re wrong.
KATE. Am I?
IKE. Granny would laugh. She’d sit and she’d laugh – because it’s entertaining.
Pause.
KATE. Entertaining isn’t the point.
IKE. Well then, I guess Granny isn’t the point.
NESSA goes over to the sideboard and gets out the whisky.
Nessa – it’s fucking eleven o’clock in the morning.
NESSA. Keep your eye on your own balls, Ike. Albin?
NESSA pours herself a whisky.
ALBIN. Coffee for me – thanks. Kate – why don’t we go for a walk?
IKE. And as for my being a ‘fraud’, Kate – I’d like to remind you that the only reason you are able to put together such a cogent accusation, the only reason you know the fucking word ‘fraud’ is because I am not on that scheme, and so you are not on that scheme. I paid with hard fucking work for you to have the free time to acquire a thorough understanding of the concept of ‘fraudulence’ amongst other high-minded ideas, Kate. And let me tell you – you sure as fuck wouldn’t be writing plays at all if you were still living with Granny and the rest of the ‘real’ people.
KATE. Jayde did.
NESSA. Who the hell is Jade?
KATE. Jayde – with a y –
NESSA. Ugh.
KATE. Has something to say for herself – because nobody owns her words, do they, Dad? She’s still allowed to speak because no one paid for her ideas. Isn’t that right? Pure gold just sings out the middle of her.
IKE. You want to be worse off?
KATE. No.
IKE. You ungrateful little –
KATE. You can have ideas without having to pay for them.
IKE. Yours just happen to have been bought with my money – but you could have done it another way?
KATE. You did – you dragged yourself up!
NESSA. He married himself up.
IKE. I worked hard.
NESSA. You fucked hard.
ALBIN. Whoa.
NESSA. Honestly. He did.
ALBIN. Okay.
KATE. How much? How much do I have to pay back before I’m free to have an opinion? And how do I do that? Tell me, how much hard labour? How much do I have to pay back before I can be something other than grateful? Hm? Before I’m allowed to criticise?
NESSA. I don’t think you’re having too much trouble as it is, darling.
IKE. Listen to you! Standing there preaching with some lefty fervour fuelled by good fucking coffee that I bought with my hard work because I know you won’t touch the instant stuff. Do you drink instant coffee, Kate?
KATE. I don’t drink instant coffee because we never had it.
NESSA. She’s not wrong.
KATE. The only time you’d buy it is when we had builders working in the house and even then you’d put it on a separate little tray with the shit cups with the cracks in and tell me not to drink it.
IKE. We never told you to drink the good wine; you cracked on to that all on your own.
KATE. I must have had a taste for it – it was probably in my breast milk.
NESSA. Now – that’s unfair.
IKE. That bottle we had last night cost the best part of forty quid and you didn’t even flinch. Albin here had the decency to say ‘that’s a nice bottle’ /
ALBIN. / I sort of meant the label. I don’t know anything about /
IKE. / But you – you glugged it right on down – a forty-quid bottle of wine that you’re so used to drinking that it goes down like fucking Ribena! And gives you a sore enough head to wake up and accuse me of elitism.
KATE spits the coffee out all over IKE.
KATE. I don’t want it!
ALBIN (quietly). Oh, fuck.
IKE. What next? Take all your clothes off? Jacket, boots – I’m pretty sure we paid for the posture as well so we’ll have that back – let’s have the teeth as well – few thousand went in there and if you still manage to shoot your spoilt little mouth off with no teeth – we’ll see how you do minus the tongue – you may think you now see the world and see me as an idiot but I’d like to remind you – the vocabulary, the articulacy, the accent, the education and even the fucking orthodontistry were all paid for by the empty, meaningless and fraudulent value system that you are so eloquently rejecting, young lady. So please – I beg of you – stop wagging your finger at us with one hand whilst stuffing your face with dauphinois fucking potatoes with the other. Okay?
