Diane Samuels
POPPY
+
GEORGE
NICK HERN BOOKS
London
www.nickhernbooks.co.uk
Contents
Title Page
Original Production
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
Epigraph
Characters
Poppy + George
Glossary
About the Author
Copyright and Performing Rights Information
Poppy + George was first performed at Watford Palace Theatre, London, on 12 February 2016. The cast was as follows:
Nadia Clifford
Jacob Krichefski
Rebecca Oldfield
Mark Rice-Oxley
Director
Jennie Darnell
Designer
Ruari Murchinson
Composer/Sound Designer
Gwyneth Herbert
Lighting Designer
David Holmes
Voice and Dialect Coach
Penny Dyer
Movement Director
Scarlett Mackmin
Assistant Director
Lucy Barrett
Company Stage Manager
Maddie Baylis
Deputy Stage Manager
Emma Hansford
Assistant Stage Manager
Emma Ryan
Wardrobe Supervisor
Mark Jones
Costume Makers
Michelle Bristow
Sarah Ninot
Hair and Make-up Adviser
Clare Parker
Author’s Note
Poppy + George has a past life with another name.
In the early 1990s, as Writer-in-Residence at Theatre Centre, a young people’s theatre company, I was researching into the lives, loves and misdeeds of women pirates of the eighteenth century when I stumbled upon various other intrepid women who lived outside the ‘feminine’ remit. I loved their independence of spirit. From the perspective of the end of the twentieth century, I found myself wanting to step into a moment in time when the opportunities (education, health resources and legal rights, etc.) from which I benefited, due in some way to these women of former eras, began to take effect for women in general. Looking back to where the century began I was drawn to the year after the Great War ended, 1919. Change was in the air. All the known boundaries and definitions of class, nationhood, gender roles that had been in place before the war were shifting in essential ways for men as well as women. Clothes were changing too. And clothes say and do so much. In my imagination, a tailor and dressmaker’s workshop, tucked away down passages and alleyways, hidden from many, took shape. Here, whilst the world outside was in flux, identities were being crafted and many different worlds created by the cut of a jacket, the flare of a skirt or the line of a pair of trousers. As Oscar Wilde wrote, ‘It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible…’ I wanted to explore the mystery of the visible. And so they sprung to life – Smith the Chinese tailor; George the chauffeur; Tommy Johns the music-hall female-impersonator back from a tour of duty in the trenches; and a young woman from the north of England, inspired by her Suffragette teacher, named Melody. Turncoat, as the play was then called, ventured on tour throughout the UK not long after a law introduced under Mrs Thatcher’s government a few years earlier had made the promotion of homosexuality in schools illegal.
Twenty years later, nearly a century after the play is set, in the second decade of the twenty-first century, it has emerged from the filing cabinet with a whoosh. Watford’s Palace Theatre, once a music hall at the beginning of the twentieth century, is the perfect venue – a renovated building with a history that rings to the songs in the play. Same-sex couples marry, men wear dresses, women wear beards, many other women wear the veil – definitions of gender are shifting, veering from one extreme to the other, questions and certainty vie in volatile contrast. Who am I? Who are we? These questions are stronger than ever. A new time, a new place, and so a new name. Poppy + George popped into my mind without bidding. I felt moved to rename the young woman at the heart of the play, Poppy. I didn’t quite know why at first, despite the obvious connections with the commemorative flower for those fallen in war – although that wasn’t introduced until 1921. But as I immersed myself in rewriting, Poppy began to grow into her name and the play into its new title in unexpected ways. The potent symbolism of this flower has now infused the work – dreams, ending, roots, transformation, resurrection – and the way the seeds sleep silently in the earth until the soil is disrupted (often by war as much as farming or trampling of boots or hooves) and then the latent potential is released. Somehow this is a theme for these times too – a call to notice, to look again, to see how disruption and change, scary, shattering and unnerving though they may be, can enable hidden seeds of untapped flowering within each individual as well as the collective to stir into life, rise up and blossom at last.
Diane Samuels
January 2016
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to all at Watford Palace Theatre, especially Brigid Larmour, Harriet Mackie, Dan Baxter, Samantha Ford, for wonderful teamwork and bringing this play to new life and light; to family constellations therapist Gaye Donaldson for probing group explorations into the character and story; to Niamh Cusack at Rose Bruford and to open-hearted volunteers for development workshop, Jasper Hardcastle, Charlotte Slater, James Nickerson, Corinne Powesland, Anna Panzone, Charlotte Tayler; to insightful and skilful actors at development workshops, Ken Christiansen, Samantha Robinson, Anna O’Grady, Terence Frisch; to my trusty agent Caroline Underwood for support and expertise and all at Alan Brodie Representation; to inspired composer, musician and friend Gwyneth Herbert; to director Jennie Darnell for her remarkable insight, warmth and rigour; to Lucy Barrett for invaluable backup; to actors Mark Rice-Oxley, Rebecca Oldfield, Jacob Krichefski and Nadia Clifford for breathing true life into every written word; to Ruari Murchison for his expertise, imagination and practicality; to Emma Hansford, Emma Ryan and Maddie Baylis for doing all they do; to Ben and Jake Garfield, my beloved sons, for love, insights and simply being themselves; to Paul Berrill for love, support and care on many levels.
To Julie Wheelwright and her book Amazons and Military Maids and all at Theatre Centre, young people’s theatre in the early 1990s, especially Becky Chapman, Isobel Hawson and Rosamunde Hutt, and Karen Spicer, Ivan Heng, Jess Charles, Robin Samson, Maria McAteer, Hazel Maycock.
D.S.
‘In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row.’
‘In Flanders Fields’
John McCrae
‘Gentle sleep! Scatter thy drowsiest poppies from above
And in new dreams not soon to vanish, bless
My senses with the sight of her I love.’
‘Poppies and Sleep’
Horace Smith
Characters
POPPY WRIGHT, modern young woman from the north of England. Early twenties.
TOMMY JOHNS, music-hall artiste. Musician. Around forty.
SMITH, tailor and dressmaker. Jewish-Russian origin. Well-travelled. Fifties or maybe older.
GEORGE SAMPSON, chauffeur. Late twenties/early thirties.
Note on Play
The play is set entirely in Smith’s tailor and costumier’s workshop in the East End of London in 1919.
Whilst the script refers to Tommy playing the piano, it is highly possible that he might play another instrument that is fitting for his music-hall genre, e.g. ukulele, accordion, glockenspiel, triangle, etc.
A glossary is provided at the back of the book.
This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.
Scene One
The Maid
Wind stirs.
Echoes of ‘After the War is Over’.
A tailor and costumier’s workshop.
Here are dummies and a bizarre range of outfits in many different stages of creation. Uniforms hang by Japanese kimonos by Elizabethan hose by saris by corsets by togas and more.
There are a couple of sewing machines and an old upright piano too.
TOMMY stands still. He is wearing a half-made maid’s uniform.
SMITH is adjusting and pinning the outfit. He wears a Chinese Zhongshan suit and shirt.
GEORGE is wearing full chauffeur uniform and is searching through a basket of various shirts.
TOMMY. How about Charlotte?
GEORGE. Nah.
SMITH. What kind of girl are you after?
TOMMY. The ordinary kind?… But with a touch… oh, you know… a touch of something else?
SMITH. Coarse or refined?
TOMMY. Not sure.
GEORGE. You slowing down, Tom?
TOMMY. Give us a chance.
GEORGE. Thought you could knock off a little maid no problem.
TOMMY. Some girls can be tricky, you know.
SMITH. Is it her or is it you?
TOMMY. You think I’m losing my nerve?
SMITH. You had a bit of a break, Tommy.
TOMMY. And what in heaven’s name have I come back to?
GEORGE. Hey now, what about the tiddley iddleys?
SMITH. Tiddley iddleys?
GEORGE. Come on, Tom, show him how you kept the home fires alight in all our hearts.
SMITH. Well?
TOMMY groans, then sings some of ‘Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty’.
TOMMY (sings).
Tiddley iddley ighty
Carry me back to Blighty
Blighty is the place for me…
Lousy bloody peace.
SMITH. Der ergster sholem…
TOMMY. Sorry, don’t speak Chinese, my friend.
SMITH. The worst peace is better…
GEORGE.…than the best war.
SMITH. See, he listens to me.
TOMMY. But where, pray, does a man even begin?
GEORGE. Where does any man begin with a girl?
TOMMY. At a loss.
GEORGE. Look, don’t worry yourself about the whole of her. Just find her name and the rest’ll follow.
TOMMY. So what’s wrong with Charlotte!
GEORGE. Too bookish.
SMITH. He’s got a point.
TOMMY. Petunia?
GEORGE. Too prissy.
TOMMY. How about you do her instead, George?
GEORGE. I’m no good at girls.
TOMMY. Sounds like you’re the bloomin’ expert.
GEORGE. No one does a lady like you.
TOMMY. Did, George. Did.
GEORGE. Keep at her and she’ll come.
TOMMY. Give over.
SMITH. Turn around, please.
TOMMY turns and SMITH continues pinning.
GEORGE. Smith, how long do I have to hang around here before we sort this shirt?
SMITH. Bing dong san chi…
TOMMY. Ah, three feet of ice is not formed in a single day.
SMITH. So you do speak Chinese.
TOMMY. I listen too, see.
GEORGE. What you on about?
TOMMY. Patience, my friend, patience.
GEORGE. Does this mean, Smith, that you’re going to spend the entire afternoon pinning old Mrs Skivvy Pants over there?
TOMMY. Mrs Skivvy Pants? OLD Mrs Skivvy Pants! What kind of artist do you think I am?
SMITH. Keep still.
TOMMY. This godawful act’s doing me in. I swear it on my dear Bessie’s grave.
GEORGE. Your Bessie’s still alive, Tom.
TOMMY. She won’t be after she’s seen the state of this little number.
GEORGE. What about Henrietta?
TOMMY. Not common enough.
SMITH. Common girl. Posh name. Might that, with respect, be ‘the gag’?
TOMMY. Huppity Henrietta…
SMITH. Ah now perhaps she is in your sights.
TOMMY. The hunder-parlour maid.
SMITH. How buxom?
TOMMY. If in doubt…
SMITH.…pad her out.
TOMMY. More stuffing, maestro?
SMITH. My feelings precisely.
TOMMY. Better get me kit off then…
SMITH searches for stuffing.
TOMMY starts to undo the buttons down the front of the dress.
Winds of change blow.
Musical theme as…
POPPY enters, neatly dressed, carrying a small bag.
GEORGE (to POPPY). Hello.
TOMMY. Whoopsie daisy!
He closes his blouse with a flourish of modesty.
POPPY. I’m looking for a Mr Smith.
SMITH. I am Smith.
POPPY. Oh phew for that. All them passageways and turns and lost track entirely of whether I was going round in circles or backwards or forwards or sideways any more… So this is it, is it?
SMITH. If this is indeed where you were heading, then it appears that with all success you have arrived.
SMITH and POPPY shake hands.
POPPY. Pleased to meet you, Mr Smith.
SMITH. Just Smith.
GEORGE stands up and holds out a hand.
GEORGE. George Sampson. As in Delilah.
POPPY looks a bit confused but nods in acknowledgement.
TOMMY. Tommy Johns. (Bowing.) As in long.
POPPY looks bemused.
Think about it.
POPPY. Oh. Ahhh…
TOMMY. Delighted to make your h-acquaintance.
SMITH. Tommy is a performer.
GEORGE. Top of the bill.
TOMMY. So to speak.
SMITH. Do you wish to hire, buy or order?
POPPY. To be hired, I hope.
SMITH. You are a seamstress?
POPPY. I wouldn’t say… I mean, yes I can sew well enough…
SMITH. You consider yourself to be more than what you do for a living.
POPPY. Oh. You understand.
SMITH. After entering this establishment did you close the front door behind you?
POPPY. Maybe left it a bit ajar…
GEORGE. I’ll check.
GEORGE nips out.
POPPY. Couldn’t find a knocker, and it pushed to, so I walked in.
SMITH. An unlocked door is as an unlocked mind… as long as we take care… All who come in pursuit of genuine business are welcome.
POPPY. I was told you’re looking for assistance.
SMITH. References?
POPPY gets out her references and samplers and hands them to SMITH.
POPPY. I can do all the basics. Me mam taught me. Used to mend and make for me brother and sisters.
GEORGE reappears, he carries a package.
GEORGE. Door good… And Cheng popped in to give you this… If you still want the brocade, he said, meet him at Paddy’s Corner tomorrow morning before eight.
SMITH nods to place the package with some others. GEORGE does so.
SMITH (reading). Mary Louisa Wright.
TOMMY. Modest Mary?… Melodious Mary?… Holy Mary?
POPPY. I like to be called Poppy.
SMITH. Does anyone else call you Poppy?
POPPY. I’m not answering if they don’t.
TOMMY. Proud Poppy? Plucky Poppy? Perfectly principled Poppy?
POPPY (to TOMMY). D’you mind me asking, sir, what you’re on about?
TOMMY. Just exploring the possibilities… that suddenly seem to be presenting themselves…
POPPY. What possibilities?
SMITH. Are you conscientious?
POPPY. It says there about the quality of me work…
TOMMY. A poppy outstanding in her field.
GEORGE.
Give a girl a chance, Tom.
TOMMY. I am. I am.
SMITH. I have just sent a girl packing because she fell short.
POPPY. I hope, Mr Smith…
SMITH. What is the English problem? I choose the commonest name in your language, make it even simpler by removing the title and still you cannot get it right.
POPPY. It’s the way we’ve been taught, see.
SMITH. Make the effort, in this instance, to unteach yourself. If you call me mister again, Poppy, or, for that matter, sir, then I will call you Mary.
POPPY. I understand.
SMITH. Good. At last. Someone who really does understand.
POPPY. I do hope that I will not disappoint you.
TOMMY. Then don’t be sloppy, Poppy.
GEORGE. How come you left your last position?
POPPY. It’s a delicate matter.
TOMMY. We are all delicate men here, my dear.
POPPY. It’s just… my mistress took offence.
SMITH. Did you misbehave?
TOMMY. Get into a spot of trouble?
POPPY. I did not.
SMITH. Did you question her authority?
TOMMY. Raise your head a little too high?
POPPY. I didn’t ask her to tell me.
TOMMY. Pray tell us.
POPPY. All I was doing was hanging the kiddies’ new jackets and she just says… Oh never mind.
GEORGE. Go on. What she say to you?
POPPY. I mean it started happily enough…
TOMMY. Doesn’t it always. I mean, with my wife…
SMITH. You were hanging the jackets?
POPPY. And she says, ‘Isn’t that dear of you to embroider Charlie’s dogs on his collar.’
SMITH. His dogs embroidered on a child’s collar. Interesting touch.
POPPY. Scottie dogs, they were… with the waggy tail and all…
TOMMY (sings).
Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow!
Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow…
SMITH. So she liked the embroidery…
TOMMY (sings).
Bow-wow.
POPPY. And I says that he’s one of the sweetest lads I ever come across. And… Oh it’s truly not of any real consequence.
Poppy + George Page 1
