Goodbye to All That E-Book

Luke Norris

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

Seitenzahl: 66

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

'I want you to remember something… You do what you want with your life. Alright? Break heads if you need to and hearts if you have to, but whatever you do don't do what I did. Don't waste yourself.' Frank has been married for forty five years. Three years ago he fell in love. Luke Norris's taut and tender debut play, Goodbye to All That, asks if it's ever too late to start again. It was first staged at the Royal Court Theatre, London, in 2012.  

Leseprobe

Luke Norris

GOODBYE TO ALL THAT

NICK HERN BOOKSLondonwww.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Epigraph

Characters

Goodbye to All That

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Goodbye to All That was first performed at The Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Upstairs, London, on 23 February 2012. The cast was as follows:

DAVID

Alexander Cobb

FRANK

Roger Sloman

RITA

Linda Marlowe

IRIS

Susan Brown

Director

Simon Godwin

Designer

Tom Piper

Lighting Designer

Matt Drury

Sound Designer

Alexander Caplen

Casting Director

Amy Ball

Assistant Director

Alice Lacey

Production Manager

Tariq Rifaat

Stage Managers

Sarah Hellicar

Alison Rich

Choreography

Lootie Johansen-Bibby

For C.T. Fancourt

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Leo Butler, Clare McQuillan and all involved with the Royal Court Studio Group and YWF.

Thanks to Romford Golf Club, Nightingale House, and my nan for their help and hospitality in researching the play.

Thanks to Samuel Adamson and Tessa Walker for, all those moons ago, letting me believe I had something worth pursuing in the first place.

Thanks to the cast ofGoodbye… for their commitment and enthusiasm, and to Simon for his superhuman patience.

Most of all, thanks to Jo – without whom this play just wouldn’t have been written. Thank you. And sorry for being a pain in the arse.

Luke Norris

‘Please release me, let me go, For I don’t love you any more, To waste our lives would be a sin, Release me, and let me love again.’

Eddie Miller, 1946

Characters

DAVID, eighteenFRANK, sixty-nineRITA, sixtiesIRIS, sixties

A forward slash( / )in the text indicates the point at which the next speaker interrupts.

Square brackets[ ]indicate a word or part of a word implied but not spoken.

PART ONE

One

A golf-club lounge-bar, afternoon.

DAVID, eighteen, in the remnants of his school uniform, sitting in an armchair. He has two drinks in front of him.

FRANK, sixty-nine, has just entered.

FRANK. David.

DAVID. Hello.

FRANK. You’re in my chair. What are you doing here?

DAVID. Two A’s / and a C…

FRANK. You should’ve phoned.

DAVID. Thanks for asking.

FRANK. What?

DAVID. Two A’s and a C.

FRANK. It’s today. Course it is. How’d you go?

DAVID. Guess.

FRANK. Well that’s… Will that do it?

DAVID. No.

FRANK. Oh.

DAVID. It won’t.

FRANK. Well.

Beat.

What was the C?

DAVID. Psychology.

FRANK. Psychology. So what does that mean?

DAVID. Leicester.

FRANK. Leicester, well. Castle. Cathedral.

Beat.

National Gas Museum.

Beat.

I’ll drink to that.

DAVID. I got you one.

He holds it out.

Bell’s. Bottled Coke and one piece of ice in a bowl glass.

FRANK. Who served you?

DAVID. The fat woman.

FRANK. Brenda?

DAVID. Moustache.

FRANK. Jeanie.

DAVID. Maybe.

FRANK. Unfortunate. The women call her Poirot.

DAVID. What?

FRANK. The lady golfers. She used to shave it. Or wax it. Now…

DAVID. Nice.

FRANK. I shall have to have words. Serving you.

DAVID. I am old enough.

FRANK. You’re not a member.

DAVID. She knew it was for you when I asked.

FRANKsmiles.

FRANK. Course she did. Well then.

He charges his glass.

Here’s to you.

DAVIDpicks up his drink.

And what’s in store.

FRANKdrinks.DAVIDdowns half of his and winces.

What’s in there?

DAVID. Orange.

FRANK. And?

DAVID. Vodka.

FRANK. Here.

DAVID. What for?

FRANK. I want to smell it.

DAVID. I’ve just told you what it is.

FRANK. I’m checking it’s a single.

DAVID. It’s not.

FRANK. Well. Go easy. It’s early.

He charges his glass again.

And don’t tell your grandma.

DAVID. She said you were playing golf with Mike Holdsworth.

FRANK. Hmm?

DAVID. Nan – I phoned home – she said you were here with Mike / Holdsworth.

FRANK. Oh. Yeah. Yes.

DAVID. Yeah?

FRANK. Just finished.

DAVID. Early.

FRANK. Eh?

DAVID. Like you said. It’s early.

FRANK. The weather.

DAVID. Right.

FRANK. Had enough.

DAVID. Have you. Where is he?

FRANK. Who?

DAVID. Mike Holdsworth.

FRANK. Oh. Gone. Went straight off.

DAVID. Did he.

FRANK. Shot a stinker. Copped the hump.

DAVID. Shame.

FRANK. Well. I owed him one.

DAVIDdowns the rest of his drink.

DAVID. Same again?

FRANK. Something the matter, son?

DAVID. Why would there be?

FRANK. Well.

DAVID. I like the taste.

FRANK. It’s two o’ clock.

DAVID. I’m celebrating.

FRANK. With the best will in the world, son, you’re going to Leicester.

Beat.

DAVID. You know his grandson’s in my form at school?

FRANK. Whose is?

DAVID. Billy.

FRANK. Holdsworth?

DAVID. His name’s Billy, yeah – he couldn’t get there today. For the results. He’s thick as shit anyway / but…

FRANK. Oi.

DAVID. … he’s in Gran Canaria with his parents.

FRANK. Well. Alright for some.

DAVID. Yeah. The hotel’s got a bar in the swimming pool, apparently.

FRANK. A bar in the swimming pool, / eh?

DAVID. Guess who they sent to get his grades instead?

Beat.

He looked like a right prick doddering around the school on his own. He’d managed to get lost, ended up by the boys’ toilets. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was dodgy – with his gold tooth, and his rain mac. And his wig.

Beat.

No? I’ll give you another clue: he wasn’t here and he wasn’t losing a round of golf to you.

Beat.

Who’s she?

FRANK. Who?

DAVID. The woman you just played golf with.

Beat.

The one you were holding hands with. The one you patted on the arse as she got in her big flash car.

FRANK. No one.

DAVID. Oh.

FRANK. A friend.

DAVID. Do you think I’m stupid?

FRANK. No.

DAVID. Because I’m not / stupid.

FRANK. No.

DAVID. No. So?

Beat.

Shame she didn’t come in. I had a vodka and orange waiting for her. Treble. What’s her name?

FRANK. David…

DAVID. Funny name for an old slapper.

FRANK. Her name’s Rita.

DAVID. And?

FRANK. And what?

DAVID. What’s the deal?

FRANK. ‘The deal’?

DAVID. Do you love her?

FRANK. Look, / son…

DAVID. ’Cause it’s not sex, is it. Do you love Nan?

FRANK. Listen to me…

DAVID. Go on then.

FRANK. It’s not as simple as that.

DAVID. Why not?

FRANK. Because it’s not.

DAVID. Seems pretty simple to me; you either love her / or you don’t.

FRANK. Yes, well, you’ll understand one day.

DAVID. When I’m older?

FRANK. Exactly.

DAVID. Fuck off.

Beat.

FRANK. You watch your mouth when you speak to me.

DAVID. Or what? You’ll tell my nan?

Beat.

You know I always thought, whatever you were… and I’m not saying, y’know… but I thought you were decent. A decent man. Shows what I know.

Beat.

Your round.

FRANK. Does your grandma know you’ve come here?

Beat.

Does she, David?

DAVID. No.

FRANK. Good. Good, now listen to me –

DAVID. Leave her. Your girlfriend. Whatever she is, leave her today. Now.

FRANK. Leaving her isn’t / going to…

DAVID. Do it or I’ll tell Nan and I’ll pack your bags myself. Then you can come down here and pat your girlfriend’s wrinkled old arse ’til you both drop down dead.

Beat.

Up to you, old man. What’s more important?

Two

RITA’s living room, late afternoon / early evening.

FRANKin an outdoor coat, soaking wet.

RITA, sixties, half-dressed for dinner.

RITA. You’re wet. You’re drenched, you’re… you’re soaked through. Why are / you…?

FRANK. I walked.

RITA. From the golf club? It’s miles.

FRANK. It’s not that far.

RITA. It’s teeming down. I would have driven you if I’d / known.

FRANK. I wanted the walk.

RITA. In this? You look as though you swam here.

She smiles. He doesn’t.

Are you…?

FRANK. I’m fine. Could do with a drink.

RITA. Do you want to take your coat off?

FRANK. No. Yes. I do.

He doesn’t take his coat off.

RITA. Are you sure you’re alright?

FRANK. Yeah. Yes, / I’m…

RITA. Because you’re being a bit…

FRANK. I know.

RITA. I wasn’t expecting you.

FRANK. When?

RITA. Now. Here. I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.

FRANK. Oh…

RITA. You won’t have to wear that to dinner?

FRANK. No.