Duck E-Book

Stella Feehily

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 88

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

A sparky and moving first play about female friendship, set in contemporary Dublin.  Cat and Sophie are Dublin teenagers on the brink, growing up in the face of everything a city can throw at them. How can you learn to be good when your elders are no longer your betters? Somehow, the girls must cope - or find a way of escaping. Stella Feehily's play Duck was first performed at the Theatre Royal, Bury St Edmunds, in July 2003, in a production by Out of Joint. This production went on national tour, including a run at the Royal Court Theatre, London, from November 2003.

Leseprobe

Stella Feehily

DUCK

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Dedication

Characters

Duck

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Duck was first performed at the Theatre Royal, Bury St Edmunds, on 24 July 20013, with the following cast:

GILLIAN / VAL / MARION

Stephanie Fayerman

CAT

Mollie Lambert

EDDIE / AMANDA / MICHAEL

Aidan O’Hare

JACK / FRANKIE

Tony Rohr

MARK

Karl Shields

SOPHIE

Elaine Symons

Other parts played by members of the company

Director

Max Stafford-Clark

Designer

Jonathan Fensom

Lighting Designer

Johanna Town

Sound Designer

Paul Arditti

This production went on national tour, including a run at the Royal Court Theatre, London, from 20 November 2003 to 10 January 2004.

For Max

Characters

CAT,* late teens

SOPHIE,* late teens, early twenties

VAL, forties

MARK, mid to late twenties

EDDIE, twenties

JACK MULLEN, sixties

GILLIAN, forties

AMANDA, twenties

MARION, fifties

FRANKIE, sixties

MICHAEL, early teens

BOYS IN THE GANG

Six actors and doubling (* not doubled)

/ indicates overlap

Scene One

Late night. A deserted side street illuminated by a street lamp.

A huge explosion. Sounds of running. Car alarms. Sirens in the distance,

CAT (late teens) runs on. She is wearing a very short skirt and has a sparkly handbag slung over her shoulder. She has a bottle of Bacardi Breezer in one hand and a car wing-mirror in the other.

She is very drunk. Her face is streaked with mascara. She has stopped to catch her breath and have a drink.

From offstage SOPHIE (late teens) is shouting.

SOPHIE. Cat, Cat,

Stop / For fuck’s sake

Wait.

SOPHIE runs in with one of her spindly high heels in her hands. She is similarly drunk. She is out of breath.

CAT. Alright /

I’ve stopped.

SOPHIE. Fucking strap broke when I was legging / it down Waterloo Road.

Probably got rabies now

SOPHIE throws down the broken shoe, wipes her foot with her hand and puts the shoe on.

CAT has sunk to the ground and is singing unintelligibly her own version of The Hives ‘Hate To Say I Told You So’.

Don’t go whacko on me now.

What have you done?

You’re lucky to be alive.

CAT. Think I’m gonna be sick.

She falls to her hands and knees and makes noises like she’s going to be sick.

SOPHIE. You all right?

CAT. Mark hates my feet.

SOPHIE. What?

CAT. Says I could have been a duck.

Sick / fuck.

Feel worse.

She leans over clutching her stomach.

SOPHIE. Are you going to get sick? Will I hold your hair back?

CAT. No. I’ll do it myself. (She tries to get sick.)

So stupid.

SOPHIE. You’re pissed.

CAT. No shit.

Got a stitch too.

SOPHIE. Sit down then.

CAT. Yes sir.

SOPHIE. I thought you were going to let the air out of his tyres / or something?

CAT. I surprised myself.

SOPHIE. You me and the people with their windows blown in.

What exactly did you do?

CAT. Stuffed me cardie down the petrol thing, stuck a lighter under it.

SOPHIE. Fucking hell.

CAT. Bob’s your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt, it lit in a shot./

Fucking bastard.

SOPHIE. Jesus Christ.

CAT. His petrol cap wasn’t on properly./

And I couldn’t help myself.

SOPHIE. I’m shocked. I’m in shock.

CAT. Nearly did a Joan Of Arc.

SOPHIE. I can’t believe it.

CAT (putting her head in her hands). Oh God. (Half laughing.)

SOPHIE. Tina Roddy’s dad set fire to his girlfriend’s house.

CAT. Oh yeah?

SOPHIE. He went to prison.

CAT. Don’t care.

SOPHIE. They’ll throw you into prison.

CAT. Not gonna get caught.

SOPHIE. You hope.

CAT. Three fucking hours.

SOPHIE. What?

CAT. Left me in Beirut.

SOPHIE. Huh?

CAT. He just doesn’t think.

SOPHIE. What?

CAT. I hate it.

Doesn’t understand. Do this, do that. No you fuckers.

Bastard./

It’s no fun anymore in The Near East.

SOPHIE. You better come back to mine.

CAT. It’s wheeee . . . Out of control.

SOPHIE. It’s arson. Do you understand?

CAT. Expecting, always expecting . . .

SOPHIE. Stop it Cat. Come on.

Get it together . . . please.

CAT. Destroys me.

SOPHIE. We need to get home.

CAT. Did you hear the explosion? (She giggles.)

SOPHIE. You’ve gone completely mental.

CAT. I could have any man I wanted. (She tries to get sick.)

SOPHIE. Right. Get up. / You’ve got to start walking ok?

CAT. Ok ok bossy lady. Just wait until those people pass.

I might fall over. (She giggles.)

Two inner city lads approach from offstage. They strut over.

BOY 1. A regular little party going on here, wha?

BOY 2. Are youse queers?

CAT. No.

BOY 2. What are youse all cosied up here for?

CAT. My friend was comforting me.

BOY 1. Awwww, Would ya comfort me, would ya?

SOPHIE. Right, you can get lost now.

CAT. Yeah, fuck off out of my face.

BOY 2. They look like queers to me. (To BOY 1.) What do you think?

BOY 1 (pointing to CAT). I think she’s a hoor,

I can see her knickers.

CAT. Piss off, thank you and goodbye.

BOY 2. Dirty bitch.

BOY 1. I like dirty bitches. (Grabbing his crotch.) Do ya want a bit of that baby?

SOPHIE (whispering to CAT). Pull your bag over and stand up with me.

They get to their feet. SOPHIE has the bottle of Bacardi breezer behind her back.

No thanks, I was about to lick my friend out when you arrived.

BOY 1. Youse fuckin dirtbags.

BOY 2. Disgustin.

BOY 1. We’ll do youse a big favour and show youse what you’ve been missin.

SOPHIE. Run.

CAT. Jesus.

BOY 2. Get them.

BOY 1. Fuck the shite oura them.

A fight starts. CAT gets knocked to the ground.

BOY 1. You’re gonna love this.

Suddenly there is a sound of breaking glass and a guttural roar. Shouts of pain. SOPHIE has the broken bottle of Bacardi Breezer under BOY 1’s throat. She looks extremely off kilter. She has cut both boys and there is blood everywhere.

SOPHIE. FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF.

The fight has stopped and they all look in amazement at SOPHIE.

BOY 2. Bleedin madser.

SOPHIE. I am going to rip your ugly face off.

BOY 1. It was just a bit of fun missus

Let’s leave it there.

SOPHIE. Shut fucking up.

BOY 2 runs off.

BOY 1. Look missus,

I’m gone.

All right?

Just put the bottle down.

SOPHIE. I’m going to fuck you up.

BOY 1. Please . . . I’m really sorry missus, really.

SOPHIE says nothing and then suddenly lets him go.

SOPHIE. Go on then. Fuck off.

He knocks the bottle out of her hand and punches her in the face and runs off.

BOY 1 (shouting). Fuckin lesbo-queers.

CAT helps SOPHIE to her feet. Her nose is bleeding. We hear the sound of their breathing.

SOPHIE. I think my nose is broken.

Scene Two

The following morning. A table.

VAL (SOPHIE’s mother: young looking – they could almost be sisters) is sitting at the table. She is reading the paper.

SOPHIE enters the kitchen. She is wearing a dressing gown and pyjamas. She has a plaster on her nose. She gets herself a bowl of cereal.

VAL (not looking up). Thought a pack of elephants had arrived at six o’ clock this morning.

SOPHIE. Sorry, thought we were being quiet.

VAL. Well you know what thought did.

SOPHIE. No what?

VAL. What do you mean ‘No what?’

Are you being smart wench?

VAL looks up but SOPHIE has her back to her.

SOPHIE. No.

Silence.

VAL. You said you’d be back by three.

SOPHIE. No taxis.

VAL. Couldn’t sleep properly.

SOPHIE. You don’t have to wait up for me mum.

VAL. Do you ever read the papers?

Stabbings on the streets. Young people disappearing.

SOPHIE. I was with Cat.

VAL. Is she still here?

SOPHIE. Dad gave her a lift into town.

VAL. When was this?

SOPHIE. You were in the bathroom.

VAL. And where was he off to?

SOPHIE. Dunno. Didn’t say.

VAL. I could hear someone getting sick this morning. Put me off my breakfast.

SOPHIE. Wasn’t me.

VAL. She’s not pregnant is she?

SOPHIE. No.

VAL. Has her mother heartbroken.

SOPHIE. Oh God, mum.

VAL. Don’t ‘God mum’ me.

She’s wasting her young life.

SOPHIE. Yeah.

Can’t wait to work at Spar like you.

VAL. You’re some strap.

Who do you think pays for your ‘Buffalo’ runners?

SOPHIE. No one calls them runners.

Trainers.

VAL. Hmm? Well?

You’ll be waiting a long time before your father would put his hand in his pocket.

SOPHIE. Cat has a job. She pays her own way.

VAL. Some life. Hostessing in a night club.

SOPHIE. Do you ever listen to yourself?

VAL. Shut your trap you little rip, or I’ll shut it for you.

You think you know it all.

SOPHIE. Yeah. Whatever.

VAL. That’s right Gull. I know nothing. Nobody understands you.

Mother resumes reading her paper. Silence.

Shouldn’t you be at college?

SOPHIE. No mum it’s Sunday.

VAL. Do you not have an essay to do?

SOPHIE. Do you mind if I have some breakfast?

VAL. And tidy your room today. It’s a disgrace. Dirty knickers lying around. Embarrassing your father.

SOPHIE. What was dad doing in my room?

VAL. I got him to fix the catch on your window so you can open it now.

The house stinking with your aul fags.

SOPHIE. I can’t go anywhere without you lot.

VAL. The poor man picked them off the floor and put them in the washing machine.

SOPHIE. What? God, is there no privacy?

VAL. Oh you’ve a terrible life, haven’t you?

What’s that on your nose?

SOPHIE. A plaster.

VAL. I know it’s a fucking plaster Gull.

What’s it doing on your cunting nose?

SOPHIE. I fell last night.

VAL. Drinking?

SOPHIE. No.

VAL. Let’s see.

Her mother inspects her nose and touches the plaster.

There’s a smell of drink off ya that would bring a dead man to life.

SOPHIE. That hurts.

VAL. Drinking?

SOPHIE. A bit.

VAL. Self infliction then.

Destroying yourself.

SOPHIE. I don’t feel well.

I’m going back to bed.

VAL. First there was the laxatives.

Then the bottles of Benylin.

Now you’re falling over drunk.

You had better pull yourself together my Gull.

SOPHIE. There’s nothing wrong mum, I just fell.

VAL. Your father was looking for the Benylin the other day.

Nothing for his chesty cough.

Poor man had to go straight out again.

It’s ridiculous.

Can’t keep a cough medicine around the house for two minutes.

SOPHIE. Yeah.

VAL. Do you think we’re going to be keeping you in drugs?

SOPHIE. They’re not drugs.

VAL. You can buy your own.

SOPHIE. Yep.

VAL. Put the cap back on the milk.

SOPHIE. Right.

Silence.

VAL. Are you sure it’s not broken? It looks very swollen.