Dramatis Personae:
Martha: A woman in her thirties
Rick: A man in his thirties
Emily: A girl in her early teens
Lotte: A woman in her thirties
Lowell: A woman in her thirties
(There is a couch on which Martha and Rick sit. They’re watching a TV which is blurrily projected behind them. On the right of the couch there is a cage in which there is a young girl).
Martha: It couldn’t have been him.
Rick: It was.
Martha: No, you’ve got it all wrong.
Rick: It’s you who haven’t been watching it properly.
Martha: Come on. Don’t pretend you know.
Rick: Neil. It’s clear as day.
Martha: Why?
Rick: It was Sam who convinced Carly to abort the baby, wasn’t it?
Martha: Yeah, but for Neil’s sake! So, he could go to LA for the acting job. Which he always wanted. And besides he had no clue it was Sam who talked her into it, did he?
Rick: They didn’t show it, but it was obvious Carly told him.
Martha: Doesn’t matter. He would have been grateful.
Rick: You don’t understand men.
Martha: Rubbish. None of it makes any sense.
Rick: Nope. Makes perfect sense. He put him under an obligation. And stole his child from him.
Martha: He didn’t want it. He was devastated when he found out she was pregnant.
Rick: On the surface.
Martha: What?
Rick: Actually, he was relieved. He knew he’d never make it in LA. The baby was his excuse to do the one thing he knew he could be good at and that was being a father.
Martha: Right, thanks Sigmund.
Rick: And Sam took it from him, and now he’ll be forced to go to LA and humiliate himself, and Carly will dump him or cheat on him when he’s over there and he’ll probably never get the chance to be a father.
Martha: So, I suppose it’s just coincidence that Tess didn’t show up at the concert that night? Missed the big event by becoming mysteriously sick.
Rick: It’s what’s known as a red herring, darling. They throw the easy explanations in to distract, don’t they? It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise.
Martha: Says the expert on soap opera plots? When was the last time you got one right?
Rick: Last week. I told you that Sheila and Don would break up, didn’t I?
Martha: Apart from that?
Rick: Well, there was…
Martha: Oh, give it a rest.
Rick: Christ, we’re only talking.
Martha: You have to be an authority on everything.
Rick: And you can’t stand it when you’re wrong.
Martha: Stop. I don’t want an argument.
Rick: (Sarcastically) That’s obvious.
Martha: Now.
Rick: Jesus fu…
Martha: Don’t.
Rick: Stupid bloody show anyway. (Picks up book).
(Pause)
Martha: You know Lotte and Lowell are coming over.
Rick: You’ve reminded me three times already today.
Martha: Don’t be sullen.
Rick: (Through gritted teeth) I’m not.
(Doorbell Rings)
Rick: Fuck.
Martha: (Surprised) Early… Get yourself together.
(Martha goes to let them in. They enter with her).
Lowell: Riiick, how are ya? Hi Emily.
Lotte: Hiya Rick. Hiya Emily.
Rick: (Bangs on cage) Say hi.
Emily: (Noncommittally) Hi.
Rick: So why did you two come over?
Lowell: Well, we were invited, weren’t we?
Lotte: (With mild Indignance) We wouldn’t have come unless we were invited.
Martha: Don’t listen to him.
Rick: I mean what are we supposed to be doing?
Lowell: What are we supposed to be doing?
Lotte: What are we supposed to be doing?
(Lowell and Lotte laugh. Martha chuckles. Rick frowns. Emily remains staring at the TV).
Martha: (Amusedly to Lowell and Lotte) See.
(Pause)
Rick: Well, sit down.
(They sit on two armchairs to the right of Emily’s cage).
Rick: (Mischievously) Have you been watching Witcham Street lately?
Lowell: Religiously.
Lotte: I’ve been busy, but he’s told me all about it.
Martha: I’m sure we all have more important things to talk about. We didn’t invite them over here for that, did we?
Rick: (Ignoring her) So, you’ll know then that Sam was murdered.
Lowell: Oh, yes. Of course.
Lotte: That was in the papers. It was on the news. It was everywhere. Everyone knows Sam was murdered… Poor Sam.
Martha: He was no saint…
Rick: Well, who do you think… Who do you think… ?
Martha: Oh, for God’s sake. For God’s sake. (Points to Emily) Look at her. She’s skin and bones. When was the last time you went out and earned some money? That’s what I want to know. Put food on the table. Literally. Acknowledged your responsibilities. Look at her. She’s fading away. You can’t live on fresh air, can you?
Lowell: Well, from a Freudian perspective…
Lotte: (Looking at Emily) She looks fine to me.
Lowell: (Irritated at being interrupted). From a Freudian perspective, it must have been Neil.
Martha: Ridiculous.
Lowell: Sam stole his opportunity…
Rick and Lowell: (In unison) … to live in denial.
Martha: She’ll probably starve… He thinks he can put the word “Freudian” before every second word and win every argument. (High nervous laugh).
Lotte: I’m sure it was Tess.
Martha: (To Rick) See.
Lowell: Oh, that reminds me. (Takes out a lollipop then looks at cage confusedly) How do, how do I?
Rick: Oh (reaches across and pulls open a sliding panel on top of the cage).
Lotte: You think he’d never been here in his life.
Lowell: (Throws lollipop into the cage).
Martha: She needs real food. One of these mornings, I’ll come down and she’ll be dead.
Rick: Of boredom.
Emily: (Half-heartedly picks up lollipop. Looks at it. After some consideration, decides to eat it).
Lotte: Sam dying was a tragedy. When Lowell told me about it, I could hardly breathe. I hope Tess receives the full force of the law. There must be justice.
Rick: You’re not in favour of the death penalty, are you?
Lowell: Darling, I did ask you not to…
Rick: Wait a second. Are you saying?
Lotte: The family must receive closure.
Rick: You’d send. You’re telling me you’d send…
Martha: (Angrily) I told you not to be sullen.
Rick: You’d send an innocent woman to her death on the basis of an ignorance of the science of psychology. I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
Lowell: She refuses to read anything.
Lotte: I’ve got a firm grasp on the essentials of dramatic theory. She deserves to die. I’d press the switch myself.
Emily: (Begins to choke loudly on lolly).
Rick: You’d press the… You’d do what?
Martha: (Defiantly) So would I.
(Emily writhes and chokes loudly)
Rick: (Stands up angrily) What? What are you saying? In my own house. In my…
Lowell: Now, calm down.
Martha: I’d watch every minute. I’d watch him die.
(Emily continues to choke and writhe).
Lotte: Sam must be revenged.
Rick: I can’t believe I’m hearing this. (To Lowell) I’m not hearing this.
Lowell: (To Lotte) You’ve gone too far this time.
(Emily at last coughs up lollipop. Gasps for air and collapses breathing heavily on the cage floor.)
Martha: Your own daughter. We’ll come down one of these mornings and she’ll have wasted away to nothing. (Shouts) When will you bring home the bacon?!
Rick: (Suddenly relaxes) I’m absolutely aware of my responsibilities. From an ethical point of view, the case is air tight.
Martha: (Goes to cage and hugs it) I’ll feed you tomorrow, love. (Returns to seat).
Lowell: What I don’t get. What I can’t get my head around. And I mean no disrespect at all, is how (to Lotte and Martha) you could think it was Tess.
Lotte and Martha: (In unison) The missed concert.
Lowell and Rick: (In unison) Red herring.
Emily: (Slowly sits up. Finds lollipop. Starts sucking on it again).
Rick: It’s wanton cruelty.
Lotte: My conscience is clear.
Lowell: Let’s not talk about politics anymore.
Martha: What should we talk about?
Rick: (With mild exasperation) What are we supposed to be doing?
Martha: We told you. We were invited.
Lowell: There’s no need for conflict. The differences are minor.
Rick: Hah. Tell me one thing I agree on. With her. With either of them.
Lowell: Freedoms. We all agree on our freedoms. Above all. At the root of it all. There is that.
Rick: (Grudgingly) I suppose.
Lotte: Of course.
Martha: (Conciliatory. To Rick) I know you’ll make sure she gets her full caloric intake. Eventually. I do trust you in that. It’s just sometimes…
Rick: I love that child as if she’s my own.
Martha: And she is.
Rick: Yes.
Lotte: Well, she isn’t mine.
Rick: We are very sure of her origin. Both of us. Aren’t we darling?
Martha: Absolutely.
Lowell: (Points at Martha) We’ve never even been alone together.
Rick: Exactly. Which is why where the responsibilities lie is absolutely clear, and there should be no more talk of it. I mean, her (gestures to, without looking at, Emily). Unless necessary.
Lotte: (To Lowell) We should have a child.
Lowell: Don’t be ridiculous.
Rick: Now, now, there are rewards.
Lowell: Where would we put it?
Rick: Anywhere. Within shouting distance.
Lotte: (To Martha) The problem is that they have no sense of foresight or planning. That’s the problem.
Martha: (Nods sagely).
Lowell: (Suddenly enraged) No, that’s not the problem bitch. You clueless fucking moron. The problem is I’m sick of sticking it up you. I’d rather put it in the fucking cat. So, biologically speaking, you’re fucked.
Rick: That’s an ironic way of putting it, Lowell.
Martha: Illogical, I’d call it.
Lowell: (Angrily) Illogical, i-llogical, are you serious? Are you suggesting some kind of mental deficit on my part? Really? Outrageous…
Lotte: (To Martha) That was a bit rude, dear.
Rick: Ok, ok, let’s all relax, or I may have to stick my foot up someone’s arse. I may have to assert my authority as head of the household.
Martha: Shall I just call it “unreasonable”?
Lowell: It’s fine. Let’s put it behind us. We’re all friends. We always have been. Had masses of fun together. Many a time. Oh yes… Do you remember, Martha, that time I shagged you in the garden shed?
Martha: I don’t recall.
Lotte: It must have been me.
Rick: (To Lowell) They’re all the same. That’s the thing. After a while, you don’t even know who you’re doing. It might as well be anyone.
Lowell: I’m quite sure it was her. It was a shorter woman.
Lotte: I’m not that tall either. It could easily have been me.
Martha: I have no recollection.
Lowell: Could you two stand back to back?
(Martha and Lotte stand up and measure height against each other back to back).
Rick: You see. Not all that much difference. You’re going barmy, mate. Someone should put you out to pasture.
Lotte: Maybe it wasn’t either of us.
Martha: I’m sure, I wouldn’t have forgotten.
Lowell: Well, it was a good time anyway. And there were many like that. I’d like to retain our friendship along those lines. With nothing getting in the way.
Rick: (Kicks cage) You hear that? Nothing getting in the way. Bear that in mind.
Martha: (Looks worriedly at the cage) I’m afraid she’ll outgrow it.
Rick: First you tell me to feed her and now you’re saying she’ll outgrow it. Do you want her to grow or not?
Martha: It’s best to have a happy balance.
Lowell: There’s really no need to worry. You could fit a fully-grown adult in there.
Rick: Oh, rubbish.
Lowell: Are you questioning my sense of perception?
Rick: Bloody right I am. She’s twelve years old and look at her. Barely room to move. I wouldn’t put a dog in there. A fully grown adult. Hah.
Lowell: Hang on a second, I’ve got bloody eyes too. She’s got loads of room in there. You could fit anyone in there. Any reasonably sized person. I’m not backing down on this.
Rick: Codswallop.
Martha: I really think you’re exaggerating, Lowell. The doctor says she’s already suffering from bone malformation.
Lowell: Doctor? Doctor? Fuck the fucking Doctor. Take her out now. Now. Take her out. We’ll put Lotte in. Fucking Doctor, my arse. Anyone could get in there.
Rick: I’ll bet you a pound you’re wrong. I’ll bet she’ll be screaming to get out within a minute. It’s amazing Emily can even stand it, and she’s half her size.
Lowell: Half? Half? You’re joking me. You’re blind. A pound? Make it two pounds. Two bloody pounds and you’re on.
Rick: You’re on.
Martha: We don’t usually let her out. I’m not sure…
Rick: (Aside to Martha) Two pounds, love. That’s enough to feed her for a week.
Martha: Maybe we should ask the Doctor.
Lowell: Fuck the fucking Doctor. Come on. Let’s get her out.
Rick: (To Martha) Two pounds.
Martha (Sighs in acquiescence).
Rick: (Gets up and lets Emily out. Emily emerges lethargically).
Lowell: (To Lotte. Greedily) Two pounds!
Lotte: I think I’ll fit.
(Squeezes herself into the cage).
Rick: (Shuts the door and locks it) There we are.
Emily: (Sits in Lotte’s place still sucking on her lolly) I don’t think it was either Neil or Tess who did it.
Lowell: What?
Rick: Oh, yes. Here we are. The expert.
Martha: That’s a fantastical statement, Emily.
Emily: You see, Sam was a big man. He was well over six foot and well-built, wasn’t he? And he died by being pushed down that stairs. That tells us two things. Whoever pushed him didn’t really want to kill him and was ready for him to find out who they were.
Lowell: Why, what are you on about?
Lotte: I think I’m getting cramps.
Lowell: Shh…
Emily: Well, most people who fall down stairs don’t even lose consciousness not to mind die. It’s not a very smart way to try to kill someone, is it? And if you were a woman like Carly or a midget like Neil—what was Neil? Five four at the most? If you were one of them, would you really risk Sam catching you in the act and retaliating. He would have ripped either of them apart. If not on the spot, then later. If they wanted to knock him off, they could have poisoned him or shot him or…
Lotte: I’d like to come out now.
Lowell: (Annoyed) Will you just hang on, please?
Martha: You should listen, Lotte. She might be on to something.
Emily: Anyway, they wouldn’t have done that. Also, consider the centre of gravity of someone who’s that tall. People of Neil and Tess’s size would hardly even be able to reach far enough up to cause him to lose balance in the first place.
Lowell: It’s logical.
Rick: I must admit she’s making some sense.
Emily: So…
Lotte: (Begins to wail in pain).
Emily: (Opens top of cage and throws the rest of the lollipop in. Closes it brusquely)… So, it must have been someone tall and who was ready for a fight.
Martha: But who?
Rick: There wasn’t…
Emily: (Triumphantly) Darryl.
Lowell: Darryl. The bouncer… ?
Emily: Yes. He kicked Sam out of the club when he was drunk, remember? But Sam got a kick in outside and ran off. Darryl wanted to even the score. Hurt him. He’s like that, isn’t he? But it went too far. One unlucky bounce of Sam’s skull off the steps and he was a goner… No-one’s fault really. Which means it wasn’t even murder…
Rick: Not murder?
Lowell: Not even murder?
Lotte: (Screams) Let me oooout!
Martha: Shhh, dear.
Emily: Not murder. Manslaughter.
Rick: Christ.
Lowell: (Wondrously) Manslaughter…
Martha: She’s a little gem. That’s why I love her. God only knows what she’d be like if we fed her properly.
Rick: A wonder: Definitely mine. One hundred percent. I take full responsibility.
Lowell: Wonderful! What a child!
Lotte: (Continues to moan).
Martha: (To Lotte) Eat your lollipop, love. You need to keep your strength up.
Lowell: Yes, keep your strength up love. (Hugs cage).
Lotte: (Slumps, passed out, in cage).
Rick: So…
Lowell: What?
Rick: Well, what are we supposed to be doing?
(They all turn towards the TV.)
(Curtain)