You Fancy Yourself
Page 5
(to ESTELLE) I’m busy. I have to be alone!
ESTELLE
All right then, maybe tomorrow?
ELSA
Now. It can’t be that hard. You just stick four fingers in your mouth and blow.
ELSA tries to whistle but only makes wet, farting sounds.
MARTIN
Do you want me to show you or not?
ELSA
(in shock, narrating) Martin Bailey! Where did he come from? Did he see me dribbling all over my fingers and chin? I want to tell him to get lost for what he did in the playground, but my tongue’s not working and my heart’s doing happy skips. (gazes at him) His eyelashes are dripping jewels of rain that shatter on his cheekbones as he blows a big pink bubble and catches it in his mouth like an expert.
MARTIN
(starts to leave) A’right. I’m away then.
ELSA
(calls him back) Eh… you can show me…
MARTIN
(holds his fingers up) See these four fingers? Watch close.
ELSA
(narrating) His whistle swoops and sails across the meadows. Dogs stop barking. Football-playing men suddenly freeze in mid-kick, and I watch close—his tongue and his four brown fingers lightly pressed on the tip—and I start to get a melting feeling somewhere between my throat and my knees.
MARTIN
Go on. Try it. (gives her a push)
ELSA
No, I can learn better watching you.
MARTIN
(frowns) Why?
ELSA
(narrating) I can’t tell him that I never want this melting feeling to stop.
That I want to gaze into his deep, brown eyes for eternity…
(to MARTIN, casually) Just the way I learn.
(narrating) Oh God…! The silence is lasting for a lifetime.
He blows out his gum and it lands between them.
(narrating) Oh crumbs, I wish I could pick up his gum and chew it!
MARTIN
All right. Meet me here in the meadows after school tomorrow.
ELSA
(passionately) YES, YES, YES!
(to the audience) I don’t say that.
(She strikes an offhand pose and scrunches up her face at MARTIN.) All right then.
He slouches off.
(joyfully to the world) I HAVE MY VERY FIRST DATE AND IT’S WITH MARTIN BAILEY!
(in a rhapsody) I fly all the way home! Fly through endless hours of ordinary things. Ha! Who are those two people nagging at me to eat my supper and do my homework! What could those plain old parents blathering away in a foreign tongue possibly understand of True Love’s ways! At last I tumble into the bed of dreams, (in bed) where Martin “James Dean” Bailey’s whistle flows like a ribbon of pink bubble gum between my sleeping wet lips!
The next day, Bruntsfield School playground
ELSA
When the school bell finally bursts us out of Bruntsfield Prison, the tumble of girls group into going-home packs.
ESTELLE
Hullo Elsa, do you want to walk home with me?
ELSA
Not now, Estelle, I’m busy! (She pushes her away as she sees MARTIN.) There he is!
(narrating) Martin’s trading football cards with the gang of big boys that part the ocean of lesser beings wherever they go. Oh good! There’s June MacReady and Frances Green. Watch me now! Watch me pairing off with the untouchable boy you all dream about!
(calling saucily to MARTIN) Martin!
(looks over to the GIRLS) They’re not looking.
Martin, Martin Bailey! See you in the meadows!
MARTIN
(distracted from his football-card swop) What?
ELSA
(calling and waving) The meadows!
FRANCES
Look at Elsa Paul! What have you got to be so pleased with yourself about?
ELSA
Wouldn’t you like to know!
ELSA walks to the meadows full of breathless anticipation. She starts to hum a pop song of the day,inspired by Buddy Holly or Cliff Richard or Elvis, or anyone who inspires.
Dud u dud um doobee you’re the one and only—
Wah wah wah wah I’m the only one who will be true hoo hoo hoo
Begins to act out her fantasy.
I’ll walk down the meadows, my heart fluttering with hope…
As you come over the hill and see me
your dark James Dean eyes will fill with passion, desire and despair
(sings) Only you, only me dee dee dee dee
You whistle! (acts out the scenario) Your whistle pierces like Cupid’s arrow, right through my heart. (feels it so strongly it makes her stop) My legs go to jelly. Suddenly you are beside me and I feel your hot breath against my slender neck.
She starts to look around for him, singing a little anxiously.
You’re the one who made my dreams come true woo woo…
She looks around, waiting. It starts to rain.
It starts to rain but we don’t care! You lean down and whisper in my ear, “I didn’t really ask you to meet me to teach you how to whistle.” (glances to see if he’s coming) I whisper back, “Oh James, I know that. I will be your girl till I die.”
ELSA is a little fearful now as she waits. She shakes it off and resumes the fantasy.
You lightly touch my trembling lips with yours…
She tries to imagine the kiss but the fantasy is growing cold. She looks around humming and hoping, and waits and waits…
You’re not going to come. (beginning to weep) He’s not going to come.
She retreats as the tears begin to flow. She backs away like she’s shrinking away from the world. She curls up at the foot of a tree and we hear the sound of bitter sobs. Finally ELSA lifts her head.
The world is still
The rain has stopped
Weeping still but trying to cheer up. She sits on the ground.
The earth smells good
Picks up a handful of dirt, holds it under her nose and breathes it in. Rubs it into her hair, spreads the rest on her face.
I smell my sweat and dampness in my knickers and I like it. A beam of sun cuts through a cloud and chooses me.
Chants an old childhood chant. It sounds like a rhythmic curse. She rubs her hands together as she does.
Fagur fiskur I sjo [Beautiful fish in the sea]
Rondotur a halanum [With a striped tail]
Med veidikulu I maganum [And a big hook in your belly]
Fetta, bretta [Abracadabra]
Bradum laet eg stora hoggid… [I will cause the great blow…]
She smacks her hands together hard and stares at her fingers.
Detta! [to… fall!]
Stand, with a new determination.
I’ve got work to do. Nobody come near me. I’m dangerous.
The next day at school
ESTELLE enters, skipping and chanting.
ESTELLE
Bruntsfield School is a very good school
It’s made with stone and plaster
The only thing that’s wrong with it
It’s got a blooming headed master
ELSA comes into the playground. She is dishevelled from lack of sleep.
Elsa, do you want to skip with me?
ELSA
Skipping’s for babies, Estelle.
FRANCES
Come on girls! There she is!
ELSA
(narrating) Why are they all galloping towards us?
FRANCES
Look who it isnae!
ELSA
(narrating) Here
they go again, coming after wee Estelle Munro.
ELSA stands in front of ESTELLE, shielding her.
Leave her alone! Get lost!
FRANCES
June! Elsa Paul told me to get lost! What should I do about it?
ELSA
You can’t even think for yourself, Frances Green. You just take orders from June MacReady like she’s the queen and you’re her slave.
FRANCES
You don’t know your place, Elsa Paul! Why don’t you go back where you came from!
ELSA
Why should I?
FRANCES
We don’t want you here!
JUNE
(prances up) You said the horse club’s for babies.
FRANCES
AND I saw what you did to June’s ribbon.
JUNE
That was my BEST ribbon!
FRANCES
And now we’re going to get you back.
ELSA
(narrating) It’s not Estelle Munro they’re after. It’s me.
She scans the playground.
The boys’ side is looking at us smelling a fight. They’re lined up on the wall, and among them stands Martin Bailey.
JUNE
(starts to gallop around ELSA and announces in a singsong voice that sails across the crowd) I know who you fancy, and I’m going to tell.
GIRLS
(prancing around her copying JUNE’s singsong) We know who Elsa fancies, and we’re going to tell!
ELSA
(narrating) How do they know? Oh no! They were watching me yesterday! I steal a glance at Martin Bailey. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying.
FRANCES
(gallops off) I’m calling the boys over so they can hear this!
ELSA
(narrating) The massacre is about to begin. Martin Bailey is smiling like this is fun. Jamie MacDonald isn’t smiling. He knows what this is like. Estelle is behind me, a mass of horse-girls in front, an army of boys waiting for the command to advance and Frances Green rearing up, ready to expose the thing that will destroy my life forever… I’ve only one thing left…
(calls) Oh no, Frances Green! Don’t you dare! I’ll call them. I’ll tell them myself who I fancy!
(narrating) Oh crummy. My heart’s in my mouth.
She climbs up on a wall and holds up her fingers.
This had better work.
She raises one hand, puts two fingers into her mouth and blows an ear-splitting whistle, then yells to the multitudes.
WHO WANTS TO KNOW WHO I FANCY?!
She looks around the playground in horror.
They charge!
From everywhere!
Hundreds of boys and girls, big and small
A hungry mob
Thirsting for my shame!
ELSA stands, arms outstretched, waiting to sacrifice herself to the mob…
A hushed silence.
GIRL
That’s a great whistle!
BOY
That’s the best whistle I ever heard!
GIRL
That’s the best whistle in the world!
GIRL
How do you whistle with only two fingers?
BOY
Show me how you whistle with only one hand!
ELSA
(looks down at the crowd, stunned) What?
GIRL
Who did you learn that whistle from?
BOY
Who taught you to whistle like that?
ELSA
(narrating) They’re gathered ’round me, gaping up at me like… I’m a film star…!
ALL
Who taught you that whistle?
ELSA strikes a pose, beginning to realize her sudden stardom.
ELSA
Nobody taught me. I just know.
(narrating) Clang, clang. Two straight lines!
No one moves. They’re all waiting—for me. (starts to move) They’re making a path for me.
She steps forward and beckons FRANCES over.
Frances Green. (FRANCES steps up.) You know who
I fancy?
FRANCES
(a little cowed) Who?
ELSA
(her face close to FRANCES’s) Myself.
ELSA turns.
(narrating) The boys run to obey the bell
I can see Martin Bailey
Standing alone at the back of his line
With only two fingers in his mouth
And the sunlight catches a spot of dribble on his chin
All ‘round me I can hear spluttering, dribbling, farting noises
They’ve all got their fingers in their mouths
Estelle Munro’s still beside me
She’s the only one in the whole playground not trying to whistle
(holds up her fingers) I’ll teach you if you like.
ESTELLE
You don’t have to teach me, Elsa. I don’t need to know.
ELSA
(narrating) I slip my hand into hers and I am filled with love, for loyalty is everything. A canyon parts for both of us as we enter the Royal Scottish Castle of Hope through the door marked “GIRLS.”
THE END
Afterword
Theatre has taught me one of the most wonderful lessons, an old wisdom that through fiction we can reach truth. This is not an airy, fairy idea. It is the application of the imagination that brings us to greater understanding. The truths are not just emotional realizations, they can reveal universal understanding and they can change the way we think.
Of course we are bound by circumstantial forces, facts that form the structure of our world, and we are obliged to accept such facts as names and places and events. It is our circumstantial setting that frames the play and gives it relevance. But inside each one of our memories lies an individual interpretation. We all do it. Our memories are our personal version of our past. People may have been in the same place at the same time, but my memory is my story, yours is yours, and they will differ to an extent in detail, but more importantly they will differ in meaning.
In You Fancy Yourself I have taken some memories of people and places, spun my own web of fiction around them, added fictional characters and listened closely to their inner life as I wrote the play. This is my version.
The theme is of the strange child in a strange land trying to fit into the playground power structure, while at the same time facing the possibility that she might betray those she loves most. Most likely these themes were constant in my own childhood. But this play is a concentration of those ideas, bringing events close to each other as desire clashes with fate and nobody knows what the outcome will be. The characters are composites partly remembered, partly made up, but these creations carry a truth that is more real to me than memory.
The central character of Elsa, who binds the play together, was last to appear on the page. She is the observer, the storyteller, an everychild with all of her dreams and flaws. The play begins when Elsa observes the new world she has sailed to. The post–war 1950s setting of drizzly Edinburgh contrasts painfully with the land Elsa has left, but she tackles her new home with the determination of the fantastical dreamer who believes that you can change anything with your imagination.
Acknowledgements
Mary Francis Moore, director of the first production, who reminded me that all you need for theatre is a good story and an actor who trusts it; designer Julia Tribe, who always creates magic in the empty space; Andy McKim, who invited me to perform part of You Fancy Yourself at the Tarragon Spring Arts Fair; Paul Braunsten, Sigga Eyrun and Liam Goggin for telling me it would
work as a play; Jeff Braunstein for great support during the process; Harpa Ardal, who taught me that life is the best drama and Inga Cadranell, who shed the first tears for Estelle.
Music
I Left My Baby
Traditional
I left my baby lying here
Lying here, lying here
I left my baby lying here
To go and gather blaeberries
I found the wee brown otter’s track
Otter’s track, otter’s track
I found the wee brown otter’s track
But ne’er a trace o’ my baby, O!
I found the track of the swan on the lake
Swan on the lake, swan on the lake
I found the track of the swan on the lake
But not the track of baby, O!
I found the trail of the mountain mist
Mountain mist, mountain mist
I found the trail of the mountain mist
But ne’er a trace of baby, O!
Hovan, Hovan Gorry og O,
Gorry og, O, Gorry og O
Hovan, Hovan Gorry og O
I’ve lost my darling baby, O!
The Massacre of Glencoe
Words and Music by Jim Maclean
By kind permission
Oh cruel is the snow that sweeps Glencoe
And covers the grave of MacDonald’s
And cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe
And murdered the House of MacDonald
They came in a blizzard we offered them heat
A roof o’er their heads dry shoes for their feet
We wined them and dined them they ate o’ our meat
And they slept in the house of MacDonald
They came from Fort William wi’ murder in mind
The Campbell had orders King William had signed
“Put all to the sword,” these words underlined
“And leave none alive called MacDonald”
They came in the night when the men were asleep
This band of Argyles, through snow soft and deep
Like murdering foxes amongst helpless sheep
They slaughtered the house of MacDonald
Some died in their beds at the hand o’ the foe
Some fled in the night and were lost in the snow