CENSORED MATERIAL
Fast-paced material. Lots of natural conversation. This is a family and, as such, they’re used to each other and each other’s vocal patterns.
Lights up on a kitchen island, with family breakfast in progress. A laptop in the background plays regurgitated shit music. Conversations between MICHAEL (46) and MOLLY (48), and ANNA (21) and SEPHY (17), are in mid-flow. They’re all very well-spoken.
ANNA. Music these days is so quick you hear the chorus when a car speeds past.
SEPHY. But that’s not the point.
MOLLY. They were quite obviously over the limit.
ANNA. Is it not? Why not?
MICHAEL. No, it does not matter.
SEPHY. I can’t say.
ANNA. What does that mean?
MICHAEL. I do not believe for a moment that if she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol she wouldn’t still be saying the same.
SEPHY. People want to get fucked up, have too much fun. Go mental.
MOLLY. They were slurring their words and they kept grabbing the phone off one another. Honestly, give it a few hours, it’ll all have settled down.
MICHAEL. He’s a selfish little cunt. I tell you, that boy!
ANNA. I think you’d be better off slowing it down, get a proper band in the back of it.
MICHAEL. His wickedness is... It’s unknown, it is absolutely alien to me.
ANNA. Real instruments.
MICHAEL. He’s selfish, unbelievably so. He wouldn’t put a piss-pot out for a preacher-man. He’s an idiot.
SEPHY. What, like, trombones or something?
MOLLY. You don’t mean that.
ANNA. (starting to pick up on other conversation) Uh, no. I’m not sure.
MICHAEL. To do it, in front of her. His own wife, stood right there, and him fairying about...
SEPHY. What did you think of my voice?
MOLLY. They were drunk. Let them explain later.
MICHAEL. I want him out of our fucking lives. This has gone on too long.
ANNA. (re: MICHAEL) Is something wrong?
SEPHY. (loud) I don’t like real instruments. Too tinny.
MOLLY. Your father is upset, girls. Don’t worry.
MICHAEL. Upset? I am so much more than fucking upset. I am ready to go round there, Mol, I could go round there and show him exactly what he’s doing to this family.
MOLLY. Don’t say that, dear. You don’t need to say that.
ANNA. What’s going on?
SEPHY. (tugs ANNA’s arm) Do you want to hear it again?
ANNA. Not right now, really. Look.
MICHAEL. Turn that fucking music down. (to MOLLY) I do fucking need to say it. I need to say it to his fucking face, and I’ll tell you what else I need to fucking say.
SEPHY stands and turns the music down on the laptop.
MOLLY. Stop repeating the word ‘fucking’ please, Michael.
MICHAEL. Fucking no. (pause) Sorry.
SEPHY goes to the cupboard. She takes several things out of it, bored, and examines them before replacing them.
MOLLY. You are going to have to calm down. He’s, he’s... he has always, he’s our son. He’s our son. Simple as that.
ANNA. Is this about Thomas?
MICHAEL. He’s your son.
ANNA. It’s about Thomas.
MOLLY. He is our son. You will not deny that.
SEPHY. (venom) Of course it’s about Thomas.
MICHAEL. Sephy, don’t be so petulant.
MOLLY. Just as I do, you love him, Michael.
MICHAEL. Of course. I love him so much I’d rip off the Queen’s bollocks if he asked me to but I won’t have him treat her like a fool. I won’t have him take her for that.
MOLLY. We can’t always be meddling. The children.
ANNA. Dad...
MICHAEL. No. No, this is not the time. What?
ANNA. What’s Thomas done?
SEPHY. (low) Do you think I sound good?
MICHAEL. Thomas has been being Thomas, my darling. It is, as it has always been, all about Thomas. Your brother, the accountant. The genetic fuck-up.
SEPHY takes some milk from the fridge and drinks half of the bottle.
MOLLY. Don’t you dare talk about him like that. He may not be thinking straight about all this, but all you’re do is getting angrier and angrier. That will not help. You need to sit down, get your thoughts together then talk to him. He will listen.
MICHAEL. I doubt that. When has he ever listened before?
MOLLY. He is not a bad kid.
SEPHY. (replacing the milk) Does anyone think I sound good?
MICHAEL. Sephy, we’re talking.
SEPHY. I’m going to my room.
She switches off the music as she exits. Silence.
MOLLY. Your daughter is upset now.
MICHAEL. When has he ever listened before?
MOLLY. I really am not in the mood to keep discussing this. It hurts to hear all these things thrown around. Look at us! Look at us spouting like parrots, because of the bastard son; all this bourgeoisie bullshit. We aren’t peasants, dear.
MICHAEL. We aren’t the fucking Jetsons either.
ANNA. You can say that again.
MICHAEL. I might, actually, to your brother. If I lay my hands on him. (exploding) I told him, twelve years old, I said it was fine! When we found that, those things! Fine!
ANNA, surprised, takes MICHAEL’s hand. MOLLY looks faintly embarrassed.
ANNA. (quietly) We know, Dad.
MOLLY. I will make some tea, will I? Yes.
MOLLY collects some mugs and moves to the kettle.
MICHAEL. It was okay. “We’ll love you either way, son.” At fifteen when we saw the videos I said the same. At seventeen when we found him in the conservatory with that, that half-Glaswegian, that, what was his name? Stupid name.
MOLLY. (over her shoulder) Tyrone Kenzie Gunt.
MICHAEL. Tyrone Kenz– Tyrone Kenzie Gunt?! What the fuck kind of name is that? Well. When we found him with Tyrone Kenzie Gunt the half-Glaswegian in the conservatory. It was fine. But, no, we weren’t allowed in. He would not even let himself in. No-one knew, or was allowed to.
He pulls his hand away from ANNA, shifting his body to face away, too.
ANNA. He could have told any of us.
MICHAEL. Now he is dragging that poor girl through the mud.
MOLLY. (turning, pouring tea) She is okay. She admitted it, Michael. She said she always had that inkling. There’s always been some awareness at the back of her mind, niggling.
ANNA. She saw him once, I don’t know when.
MICHAEL. Sorry?
MOLLY. Anna, you could go and check on your sister. Has she played you her song yet? It’s wonderful.
MICHAEL. I don’t think I quite understand. She saw him once?
MOLLY hands out the mugs of tea.
ANNA. She saw him near Upper Belgrave. Those low bushes. (to MOLLY) Thank you very much. (to MICHAEL) She was jogging past; had a hoody on or something. He didn’t see her. He was... Well, yeah. He couldn’t see her, basically, is how she described it to me.
MICHAEL. He needs to check himself in somewhere.
MOLLY. There’s your tea, dear.
ANNA. Dad, don’t say things like that.
MICHAEL. You didn’t ask if we wanted any tea.
ANNA. Thomas isn’t a mental person who should be locked up and the key thrown away. Not that that should happen to anyone, of course, I’m not saying that. But he’s not crazy.
MICHAEL. He is fucking crazy. I’m fucking crazy.
MOLLY. He is a perfectly normal young man.
MOLLY starts clearing up around the others. SEPHY enters.
SEPHY. I need the key for the garage, Mum. It’s–
MICHAEL. (interrupts) Sephy, we’re talking.
MOLLY. What do you need from the garage?
MICHAEL huffs.
SEPHY. Some white spirit. For cleaning.
MOLLY. I think it’s open, darling. Use as much as you like. Be careful with it.
MICHAEL. This situation with Thomas and Michelle, it is not good for this family. It’s toxic.
SEPHY. (glum) I’ll be careful.
SEPHY exits.
MICHAEL. This whole situation is so wrong, so unnatural, on so many levels. It shouldn’t have even had a chance to happen. And she saw him? I cannot believe that she physically saw evidence – evidence, listen to me! – and stayed with him.
ANNA. Are you angry at him?
MICHAEL. I’m furious. I don’t know what I want.
ANNA. Just because he’s ...?
ANNA starts sipping her tea, as MOLLY begins to wash up.
MICHAEL. No. Not at him. At her.
Both women stop what they’re doing and turn to MICHAEL.
ANNA. What?
MOLLY. Pardon?
ANNA. Sorry. Pardon?
MICHAEL. What a stupid bitch.
ANNA audibly gasps. MOLLY moves to place her hand on her shoulder. Long pause.
ANNA. Dad.
MICHAEL. She knew? She saw? When, when was this?
MOLLY. About a year ago.
MICHAEL. So she would’ve been, what, one, two weeks pregnant? Terminate the bloody thing, that’s what I would have done.
MOLLY. (aghast) Bloody thing? That’s our grandson, Michael. I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough of this. Have you been drinking?
MICHAEL. I’ve had nothing, Mol.
MOLLY. Then why are you acting like this?
MICHAEL. (through gritted teeth) Nothing.
MOLLY. A likely tale.
MICHAEL. It’s not our grandson, Molly, it’s a fucking product. A product of hatred; guilt; whatever other shitty synonymous word you want to give it. It’s the offspring of something that should never be... it’s, it is not right. That little boy is a shield.
ANNA is fighting back tears.
MOLLY. Stop it, please. You’re upsetting Anna.
MICHAEL. But it’s true. That poor baby – that poor, small, gorgeous angel – that is whom is going to suffer here. It is not fair. His father is living a lie and his mother was happy to make him complicit in that? What kind of parents are they? She’s as bad as him.
ANNA. (sad) You’re right.
MOLLY. He is?
ANNA. He’s right, Mum.
MOLLY. But you can understand why she might stay with him, feel she has to? The baby...
MICHAEL. She shouldn’t have kept the baby. She knew what world she was bringing it into.
MOLLY. (dark) Killing babies doesn’t solve problems, Michael.
Silence.
ANNA pulls a tissue out of her pocket and wipes away her tears; blows her nose. MOLLY returns to the counter and grabs a bottle of wine. She pours herself a small glass and necks it. Then, she repeats the action. MICHAEL sits very still.
There’s a banging upstairs. They all ignore it.
MICHAEL. (at last; breaking ice) Lord! It’s not even eight-fifteen and look at us. I haven’t even switched on Al Jazeera yet, your mother’s still in slippers, we’re not like this. This isn’t us.
ANNA. We’re always like this.
MICHAEL. (to MOLLY) Could I have some toast, dear?
MOLLY pours herself another glass of wine, her back turned.
MOLLY. If you’re making some, I’ll have a slice. Brown bread. No butter.
MICHAEL. (stands) Right. Uh, where do we keep the bread?
ANNA stands, goes over to a cupboard and retrieves two loaves of bread: one brown, one white. She takes a piece from each and pops them in the toaster. MICHAEL watches her then sits down again, redundant.
MICHAEL. Thank you, Anna. I’ll butter it.
ANNA. You’ll have to get ready for work in a minute. I’m not in till twelve today. I’ll drop Sephy at her friend’s house–
MICHAEL. (interrupts) You can’t just let her skip college. What about–
ANNA. (interrupts) It’s half term, Dad. Sephy hasn’t had college for the last week and a half.
MICHAEL nods. A ringtone sounds in the background. They all flinch. MOLLY pulls out her phone, still not turning round. She doesn’t look at the screen.
MICHAEL. Is it him?
ANNA. Mum?
MOLLY hangs up the call.
MOLLY. (pouring another glass of wine) I’m not answering it. The toast will be done.
MICHAEL. I’ll get it. I can butter mine.
MICHAEL retrieves the butter and a knife, two plates and the toast. He begins buttering the toast. A different ringtone sounds in the air. They all flinch. ANNA switches it off without even taking it out of her pocket.
ANNA. I’ll drop Sephy at her friend’s house, then go to work. Mum, I’ll pick up your dry cleaning on the way, Margaret said it should be done today rather than tomorrow so that’s fine. I’ll be back about eight tonight, maybe nine. Are we still going for dinner?
MOLLY and MICHAEL return to the island at the same time, him passing her a plate of unbuttered toast as they do. She brings another glass of wine.
MOLLY. Yes.
ANNA. San Carlo?
ANNA’s phone rings again and she does the same thing.
MOLLY. No, we’re going, no, it’s... It’s slipped my mind. Sephy picked one. It’s for her prize.
MICHAEL. What prize?
MOLLY. I don’t remember. Maybe something to do with her song. Have you heard it? It’s lovely.
ANNA. You don’t know where she picked?
MOLLY’s phone starts to ring again. She switches it off.
MOLLY. It’s... it’s gone, sorry. Somewhere in the centre, I think.
ANNA. Shall I book San Carlo? We always have a good time at San Carlo. Sephy won’t mind. She’s always in her own little world, anyway. Barely eats. She likes San Carlo.
MOLLY’s phone rings again. She switches it off.
MOLLY. Fine.
MICHAEL. Yes, book San Carlo. We always have a good time there.
MOLLY’s phone rings a fourth time. She switches it off. She’s shaking now. MICHAEL munches into his toast as he stands and heads for the door.
MICHAEL. I’m going to get changed for work.
ANNA. Please speak to him, Dad. Speak to him calmly and just... Keep it calm. Keep it calm and speak to someone and this can all...
MICHAEL exits.
ANNA. It’s like we’re in fucking Coronation Street.
MOLLY. Anna, we’re nothing like that.
ANNA. Fine. Fucking Downton Abbey.
MOLLY grabs the bottle of wine and pours herself another.
MOLLY. Anna, stop swearing. You’re sounding more and more like him every day.
ANNA. Sorry, Mum. (re: wine) I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.
MOLLY. (sips) I’m nervous.
MOLLY’s phone rings a fifth time. She picks it up and hurls it behind her. It smashes. The sound stops.
MOLLY. For goodness’ sake, ring your father. Ring. Your. Father. (finishes her wine) I cannot be that go-between anymore. (looking off-screen: where MICHAEL exited) He needs to ring you. He needs to speak to you, not me. Am I right? AM I RIGHT?
ANNA. (rubs MOLLY’s arm) It’s okay, Mum. Don’t get upset.
MOLLY. I’m tired.
ANNA. You can go back to bed.
MOLLY. No, I’m tired of, it’s this, I’m tired of all... It is all of this, Anna. I slept fourteen hours last night, two sleeping pills in, that’s not natural. I was going to take more. More, imagine that! But I couldn’t because Sephy asked for the bottle and I was so tired, I was too tired, I couldn’t get it back, so she’s got the bottle and I’m asleep. All I do is sleep. I’ve had three espresso shots and three of glasses of wine and it’s, I don’t even know, it’s whatever time it is, eight-twenty and I’m more awake than ever but I am so tired. I’m angry and, and... and this is on your father. I just sleep through life. It is on your father and not me. It’s not me. I didn’t do anything. It’s not my fault he ended up like this.
ANNA. No-one blames you for the way Dad acts, Mum. He’s... hot-headed.
MOLLY. Not your father. Thomas. (takes a bite of toast; spits it out) I don’t even like toast. It’s your father’s fault Thomas ended up like he did. Not mine.
ANNA moves round to pull her mother into a tight embrace.
ANNA. Thomas is a good man, Mum. He’s hot-headed too. Reckless, occasionally, but a fine man and brother. We all make mistakes.
MOLLY. Right upstairs.
ANNA. Pardon?
MOLLY. Right above our heads. Right upstairs.
ANNA. Pardon?
MOLLY. I can’t say.
MICHAEL slowly re-enters the room, head down. It’s clear he’s been listening.
MICHAEL. Mol, if you–
MOLLY. (interrupts) My uncle told me not to marry you. Did you know that? (sips wine) He said he’d seen the way your eyes flitted from side to side sometimes, in certain places, in certain... situations. He said it didn’t sit right with him and I was better off away from you and those eyes.
MICHAEL. I think you might be a bit drunk, dear. Do you want to go back to bed?
MOLLY. I’d love to.
MICHAEL makes a step forward but MOLLY holds out her hand, halting him. She steps off her stool and stands in front of ANNA.
MOLLY. I would love to! But Sephy’s got my pills.
MICHAEL. You’re not making any sense, Molly. They’re right upstairs.
MOLLY. I just want to go back to bed, but, no, I’m caffeined up and a little tipsy and so I’m awake and so, yes, I’m a bit drunk and all I want to do is tear you limb from limb right now. You’re the love of my life and I can’t think of anything better to do. I’m forced to be awake and watch all of this. Watch you destroy my children’s lives. Right above our heads. Awful things happening right above our heads.
ANNA. Mum, what’s going on?
MOLLY. Right above our heads. You were lucky, Anna.
ANNA. What do you mean?
MOLLY. I don’t know why. Maybe he was just going through a good patch, maybe he was getting it sorted out somewhere else, but you were lucky. They say middle children suffer, usually!
ANNA. You aren’t making any sense.
MICHAEL. Anna, go to work.
ANNA. I told you, I don’t start till twelve.
MICHAEL. Anna, work.
ANNA. I can’t go to work now.
MICHAEL. Fuck off to work, Anna.
ANNA. Dad!
MOLLY. Your mother and I, we need to have a discussion. We haven’t had the opportunity to sit down and hash something out for a little while now and, as you can see, it’s having an adverse effect on your mother’s wellbeing. Could you please go to work? At least leave the house, and take Sephy with you. To her friend’s, maybe? The library? Wherever she goes.
ANNA. You’re both scaring me. If there’s something to talk about, we need to all talk about this together. Shall I call Thomas?
There’s a long period of silence. No-one moves. There’s a thud from upstairs.
MICHAEL. (mutters) Bloody girl, always thrashing about.
MOLLY. Too much has gone unsaid and unsung in this household. I can’t, I, it is not fair, not anymore, you... you... The girls–
ANNA. (interrupts; to MICHAEL) Did you hurt him? Did you hurt Thomas?
MOLLY sits in her seat again and buries her head in her hands. ANNA side-steps her mother to move closer to her father.
MICHAEL. No. Anna, how could you think that? No.
ANNA. But...
MICHAEL. Did your mother say that?
ANNA. Not as such, no. I just kind of assumed. This all seems a really big deal, whatever it is.
MICHAEL. You’ll listen to me?
ANNA. Of course. You’re my Dad.
MOLLY looks resigned and devastated, behind her daughter. She buries her head in her hands.
MICHAEL. (heartfelt) Anna, no. I would never. You’re jumping to completely the wrong conclusion. God, is that what you think I am? A beast. Some kind of paedophilic basilisk; some kind of masculine Medea, abusing my own children. Have I ever hurt you? (takes both her hands in his) I would never dream of it. You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s something else entirely.
ANNA. Then what’s going on? What does Mum mean? I was lucky?
MICHAEL. I don’t know what your mother meant. I’ll have to talk to her. She’s...
MOLLY. I’m right here.
ANNA. I’m going to ring Thomas, just to ask him to come round later. I think we’ve all got a lot to talk about.
THOMAS enters.
MICHAEL. Yes, perhaps that’s a good idea.
THOMAS. I’m right here.
MOLLY sits up again. She rubs her eyes and straightens up, on edge.
ANNA. What great timing.
THOMAS. (laughs awkwardly) I was waiting for an entrance line.
MICHAEL. Son, what are you doing here?
THOMAS. Sephy’s been ringing my phone off the hook for the last ten minutes. Thought I’d pop round when I couldn’t get back through to her. (casual) Sorry about last night, by the way, Mum, Dad. Michelle and I were a bit worse for wear and probably chatting shit. Blah blah blah, you know how it is. Vodka is a couple’s counsellor and all. We don’t even remember.
MICHAEL. She said she saw you with a friend of yours. Jeremy.
THOMAS. (faultless) Don’t even recognise the name. Like I said, probably chatting shit. We were bollocksed. (to MOLLY) You alright, Mum?
MOLLY. Yes, darling. A little... well, worse for wear seems very appropriate actually.
THOMAS. Drinking at this time? Lad points, mother dearest.
ANNA. Thomas!
THOMAS. No-one knows how to have fun round here. Well, almost no-one. Speaking of, where’s my magical, little Sephy?
ANNA. Upstairs. Sorry we ignored your calls.
MOLLY stands up and wobbles a bit, falling back into her stool.
MICHAEL. Molly, I really think you should go to bed.
THOMAS. I haven’t called you yet this morning. Only woke up to Sephy ringing.
ANNA pulls out her phone.
MOLLY. I won’t be able to sleep. Sephy’s borrowed my pills.
ANNA. But why has she been ringing? She could just, she, I’ve got two missed calls.
MICHAEL. She didn’t fucking call me. Why the fuck not? She’s right upstairs. She...
MOLLY. She’s right above our heads.
Fin.
