by Fin Kennedy
Its lid now closed and covered in decades of dust.
Only today
It isn’t closed
But inexplicably wide open
Its gleaming ivory keys
And ebony sharps and flats
As pearly white and as jet black
As the day he bought it.
JOYNUL. Laila…
LAILA. Yes?
JOYNUL. You play, don’t you?
LAILA. I used to.
JOYNUL. Come.
JOYNUL sits at the piano.
LAILA holds up her one arm.
LAILA. But… I have the same problem you do.
JOYNUL pulls out a second piano stool.
JOYNUL. Then together, we have the solution.
LAILA joins him at the piano.
They each play with one hand, taking one half of the piano keys.
They play a mournful yet hopeful tune, something like Debussy’s ‘Clair de Lune’.
NARRATORS. And so
Lost in music together
The world stops
Customers listen
Passers-by pause
As the music floats down Whitechapel High Street
Past the coffee-house hipsters who stop mid-cappuccino
The publican pauses while opening up
The morning air suddenly bright and fierce
With memory and regret
Past Jalebi Junction
Where even the deep-fat fryers stop spitting
And wipe away a greasy tear
Floating on past Cashino Gaming
Where the soft notes blanket the air
And momentarily silence the machines as soundly as if
Their very power had been cut
Next door, the owner of Crystal Gifts
Stops dusting his shelves
And his chest swells
With a love of the world and everything in it
The notes float
All the way down to Royal London Hospital
And in through the window of the neonatal ward
Finally reaching the ears of Mrs Uddin
Joynul’s ex-wife
Who recognises her ex-husband’s playing
Immediately
And for a girlish moment considers rushing down to see him
Her heart full of the past
But as soon as the thought occurs
Dismisses it as silly and unrealistic
What’s done is done
And so she chooses instead
To sit and quietly listen
As the playing which was once such a part of her life
Fills the world once more
And for the first time in many, many years
She is happy
For a few moments
Happy that her troubled ex-husband has
Somehow
Once again
Found peace.
The music stops.
JOYNUL. Thank you, Laila. Now… what did you come in for?
LAILA. I… I can’t remember. But that will do.
They shake hands.
We return to ARTEMIS and AMINA.
ARTEMIS. Lovely.
You are getting the hang of this.
Now. How about doing yourself?
AMINA frowns.
But you must.
Save yourself, Amina, before it is too late.
Your father languishes in jail.
Your mother is goodness knows where.
Do something for yourself, as well as others.
AMINA opens her mouth, almost as if to speak, but ARTEMIS vanishes.
The antiques shop vanishes with her.
AMINA is left alone at home holding the box of remaining dominoes.
Clocks tick.
She looks around her.
She spies her father’s bottle of Ajmal Vision aftershave.
She picks it up.
She takes out a domino.
She sprays the domino with a squirt of Ajmal Vision.
She sniffs it.
She grimaces and coughs.
SAMIT appears, in a prison visiting room.
AMINA goes and sits opposite him.
SAMIT looks miserable.
AMINA takes out the domino and places it on the table.
SAMIT looks at it.
He picks it up.
He sniffs the air.
He sniffs the domino.
A LAWYER comes over.
LAWYER. Good news, Mr Rahman.
Seeing as your victim has made a full recovery, the court has decided merely to issue you with a fine.
SAMIT. But I haven’t got any –
AMINA snaps her fingers.
She indicates the domino.
SAMIT looks down at it, looks up at AMINA, then takes the domino and sniffs it again, long and deep this time.
Of course. I will pay what I owe. Like a man.
LAWYER. Good. The fine comes to a grand total of one billion.
The LAWYER scribbles on a slip of paper and hands it to SAMIT.
SAMIT. What?
LAWYER. One billion.
SAMIT. One billion?
LAWYER. One billion.
SAMIT. One billion what?
LAWYER. Grains of sand of course. The only currency we accept here.
The DEBT COLLECTOR appears. He is larger than before.
DEBT COLLECTOR. Pay what you owe, Mr Rahman.
I will add it to my weight
And let it fuel
My
STRENGTH.
The DEBT COLLECTOR roars.
SAMIT grabs AMINA and leaves.
SAMIT. Amina, do you still have the watch? The pocket watch.
AMINA takes it out.
SAMIT cradles it.
He notices it has stopped.
When did it stop?
AMINA shrugs.
SAMIT shakes it. He sighs.
Let’s hope it is still worth something. This should be in a museum. We have to sell it. It is all we have left.
The cast build the Museum of Time around them.
Some of them become the CURATORS.
The CURATORS are gathered around in a huddle, looking concerned.
They are poking and prodding at the Universal Clock.
Have you ever heard of Greenwich?
AMINA shakes her head.
A wonderful place
Just south of the river
Where time was invented
And where it continues to reside
Looked after by the finest minds
Keepers of the Seconds
Counters of the Hours
Gatherers of the Days
And Guardians of Tomorrow.
SAMIT sees the CURATORS in their huddle.
That must be them.
He hesitates. AMINA indicates for him to approach.
But… (Whispers.) I’m scared.
AMINA frowns.
(Whispers.) These people are my heroes.
AMINA takes the domino out of his pocket and hands it to him.
SAMIT gives it a long, hard sniff.
AMINA pushes him forward.
SAMIT stumbles into the Museum of Time.
Ahem.
The CURATORS turn round.
The CURATORS all have clocks for faces.
They move with jerky, staccato movements, like a second hand.
Although they don’t use real words, each new speaker takes a new line, like the NARRATORS.
CURATORS. Tick tock.
Tock tick.
Tick tock.
SAMIT. Forgive me for intruding.
I am Samit Rahman
And this is my daughter Amina
We have something which we hope might interest you.
SAMIT holds out the pocket watch.
One of the CURATORS takes it.
The others gather round.
CURATORS. Tock
Tick
Tick
Tock.
SAMIT.
I hope it might still be worth something.
My daughter and I have fallen on hard times
And sadly we must sell it.
The CURATORS hand it back.
CURATORS. Tick tock.
SAMIT. What?
CURATORS. Tick tock.
SAMIT. But –
CURATORS. Tick tock.
SAMIT. Please –
CURATORS. Tock tick.
The CURATORS turn away.
SAMIT. Oh. Alright then.
Crestfallen, SAMIT turns to go. AMINA blocks his way.
But, Amina, they have bigger problems.
The Universal Clock – it’s broken
And no one knows how to fix it.
AMINA indicates the domino again.
SAMIT sniffs it.
He braces himself.
He turns back round and addresses the CURATORS.
Perhaps… perhaps I can help?
CURATORS. Tick.
SAMIT. What seems to be the trouble?
CURATORS. Tick.
SAMIT. I’m a watchmaker. A fixer. Time is what I do.
CURATORS. Tock?
Tick?
Tick?
Tock?
SAMIT. I see. May I?
The CURATORS part so that SAMIT can examine the Universal Clock.
He pokes and prods at it a bit.
CURATORS. Tick?
SAMIT. This is man-made.
CURATORS. Tick.
SAMIT. In London.
CURATORS. Tick.
SAMIT. By you?
CURATORS. Tick.
SAMIT. Then what makes it universal?
CURATORS. Tock!
Tock!
TOCK!
SAMIT hesitates.
SAMIT. Right. Um… Just a minute.
SAMIT sniffs his domino.
Macho music swells.
There is a greater timepiece.
CURATORS. Tock!
SAMIT. Yes.
CURATORS. Tock!
SAMIT. Not at all. The answer… lies in nature.
SAMIT takes out a copy of The Book of Ingenious Mechanical Devices by Al-Jazari.
CURATORS. Tockety tockety!
Tick tick tick!
SAMIT. No. Al-Jazari, the author of this book, was a twelfth-century scholar from Baghdad, the finest mind, and the true inventor of time.
CURATORS. Tock!
Tock!
TOCK!
SAMIT. There are rhythms in the universe which never stop.
The whistle of the wind
The regularity of rain
The waft and weft of water.
CURATORS. Tick?
Tick.
Tockety?
Tick.
SAMIT. You must find these rhythms, and channel them
If you want to kick-start time.
The answer – is an Al-Jazari water clock.
There is a dance to build a water clock.6
When the water clock is finished, SAMIT and the CURATORS gather around earnestly. Someone pours some water into the top of it and the others watch with baited breath.
The water makes its way through the clock, and the mechanisms start to turn.
There is a ticking noise, and the sun begins to rise.
The CURATORS cheer – and lift SAMIT onto their shoulders.
Macho music swells.
CURATORS. Tickety!
Tickety!
Tickety!
Tickety!
Tickety!
Tickety!
TOOOOOOOCK!
NARRATORS. And so it was
That Samit Rahman
Found the strength to conquer his tomorrow
For the future belongs but to a few men
The men with vision.
SAMIT proudly sprays some Ajmal Vision onto himself.
The DEBT COLLECTOR appears. He roars.
DEBT COLLECTOR. Raaaaaar!
SAMIT roars back, louder.
SAMIT. RAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!
The DEBT COLLECTOR collapses in a heap of wet sand.
ARTEMIS appears.
ARTEMIS. A triumph!
AMINA smiles.
And a smile. Even better.
ARTEMIS indicates the domino box AMINA is still holding.
Just one domino remains.
AMINA looks into the box.
I think you know who it is for.
AMINA looks sad.
Find it in your heart to forgive… and she will return.
The sound of a plane taking off.
ARTEMIS vanishes.
AMINA stands at a fence.
NARRATORS. And so it was that Amina Rahman
Found herself stood at the perimeter fence
Of London City Airport
The point from which her mother
Must surely have departed for America.
As tears of rage and frustration
Well up like an angry sea
She clutches the final domino tight
Before drawing back her arm
And flinging it with all her might.
It clatters to a halt on the tarmac
Next to a storm drain
Baggage handlers’ trucks plough up and down within inches
But no one notices
No one stops.
SFX: Thunder, and rain.
The airport-runway gutter fills
And little by little
The domino is inched towards the drain
Before finally flipping over
To be washed downwards
Down into the dank, dark mystery
Of London’s septic underworld.
AMINA. Nooo!
The cast gasp. It is the first time AMINA has spoken.
NARRATORS. But what Amina doesn’t see
Is this:
The tiny domino clattering through the filth
Spinning like a dice through the grey felt of the Thames
Tugged by turning tide
A wanderer floating East
Out into the heaving clutches
Of the grey-green nothing
Of the North Sea.
Nor will Amina ever know
That here, the ocean’s ebb and flow
Causes her lonely domino
To catch the eye of a large grey sturgeon
Who, mistaking the tile for its usual prey
Sucks it down, out of the grey
And into its pungent guts.
Nor will Amina ever know
About the fisherman’s daughter
Barely eight years old
Who
A hundred metres above
Floating on the water
Plops in her line
And prays.
Her prayers are answered
Though not in the way she imagines
The ten-pound sturgeon fish she lands
Contains within its belly
A find intriguing enough to catch the attention of a local reporter
In the daughter’s sleepy coastal town
Where nothing much of interest happens.
The GIRL holds the cut-open fish and the domino.
She poses with it for a press photo.
GIRL. A domino! Inside its tummy!
She is handed a newspaper featuring the story, then a cheque.
NARRATOR. The modest fee the fisherman’s daughter receives
For the double-page spread about her unusual find
Is wisely invested by her father
And eventually grows into a nest egg
Large enough
To send the girl to medical school
Her lifelong ambition
Where
Through hard work and dedication
She turns out to excel at Caesarian section
An echo perhaps of her early life
Gutting fish…
In any case
The girl’s skills save countless mothers and their babies
In hospitals around the nation –
/> Including, in ten years’ time, just maybe
A mother in labour whose complications
Give her diligent midwife due cause for alarm
And an expert is sent for, to keep her from harm
The young mother’s name?
Amina Rahman.
But Amina would never know any of this
Of the mystery she caused
Of the funds she unlocked
Or her own life she saved
Instead she turns, despairing
To brave the rain
The uncaring concrete
And the long walk home.
ARTEMIS appears.
ARTEMIS. You spoke.
AMINA stops.
You shouted ‘No’. I heard you. You spoke.
ARTEMIS removes her wig: it is NABIJAH.
NABIJAH. Amina, it’s me
Nabijah
Your mum.
NABIJAH goes to hug AMINA. AMINA takes a step back. NABIJAH stops.
Your voice. I heard it. It’s beautiful. Say something again. Anything. For me. For your mum.
Pause.
AMINA. You left.
Pause.
NABIJAH. I know.
AMINA. Why?
NABIJAH. I’m sorry.
AMINA. Why?
NABIJAH. Sometimes… the world is just too much.
You don’t get that from your father.
You get it from me.
Pause.
I failed at my most important job
CEO of your life
Forgive me
Please.
AMINA takes out the magnetic letter ‘A’ from earlier.
She holds it out to NABIJAH.
AMINA. A.
NABIJAH takes it.
NABIJAH. A…
It’s a good start
The rest are at home
Let’s go back
Fill in the blanks
Talk
Get to know each other
Begin again.
AMINA. Okay.
They hug, hesitantly at first, but becoming a full embrace.
They let go.
NABIJAH. I feel like I did when you were born.
NABIJAH takes AMINA’s hand. They turn to leave.
NARRATORS. And so it was
On the third of August 2014
A mother and her daughter
Walk arm in arm through the rain
The drops of a Tower Hamlets summer storm
Hiding their tears.
These streets never sleep
But tonight at least
They are calm
Washed clean
Satisfied
That there is one more who walks them
Who understands the power
Of the domino effect.
Pray
Hope
Love
And it shall be so.
The cast each hold out a domino to the audience.
Your turn.
The End.
Endnotes
1. Arabic = Praise be to God
2. Optional.
3. i.e. The floorboards groaning under the weight of the fully laden freezer.
4. Can be played by just one policeman, who speaks all the lines, if necessary.
5. Ivory if the dominoes are white, of course. Black dominoes would be ‘ebony eggs’.
