So Here We Are E-Book

Luke Norris

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

Seitenzahl: 91

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Frankie's dead. And no one's quite sure why. But the boys won't talk about it. They can't. There are some truths that men can't share. Luke Norris's So Here We Are is a play about what can happen when nothing happens, a compassionate look at young lives cut short and a touching portrait of childhood friendships under strain in adult life. The play was the winner of a Judges Award at the 2013 Bruntwood Prize for Playwriting. It premiered at the HighTide Festival in September 2015, in a co-production with the Royal Exchange, Manchester, in a production directed by Steven Atkinson.

Leseprobe

Luke Norris

SO HERE WE ARE

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Epigraph

Characters

A Note on the Punctuation

So Here We Are

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

So Here We Are won a Judges Award at the 2013 Bruntwood Prize for Playwriting. It was first performed at the 2015 HighTide Festival, Aldeburgh, on 10 September 2015. The production transferred to the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, on 24 September 2015. The cast was as follows:

KIRSTY

Jade Anouka

FRANKIE

Daniel Kendrick

PIDGE

Sam Melvin

DAN

Ciar

á

n Owens

SMUDGE

Dorian Jerome Simpson

PUGH

Mark Weinman

Director

Steven Atkinson

Designer

Lily Arnold

Lighting Designer

Katharine Williams

Composer and Sound

Isobel Waller-Bridge

Movement Director

Tom Jackson Greaves

For the boys back home

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Leo Butler and all involved with the Royal Court ‘Super-Group’ 2012, where this play started its life.

Thanks to the myriad actors and directors who have read and noted it since then.

Thanks to all involved with the Bruntwood Prize and the Royal Exchange for bringing So Here We Are to light. Particular thanks go to Suz Bell for her continued interrogation of the text.

Thanks to Steven Atkinson and everyone at HighTide for committing to the production from first to last.

Thanks to Ciarán, Danny, Dorian, Jade, Mark and Sam for wanting to come along and tell the story with us.

Thanks to Jonathan Kinnersley for his unwavering faith and support.

And thanks, as ever, to my wife and (unpaid) dramaturg Jo, for everything.

L.N.

And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass.

Ezra Pound

Characters

PIDGE

SMUDGE

PUGH

DAN

KIRSTY

FRANKIE

This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

A Note on the Punctuation

It’s a bit of a mess.

Generally speaking, speeches should come quickly one after the next. To indicate and encourage this, a lot of speeches are written without full stops, whether the character has finished speaking or not.

Full stops, meanwhile, don’t necessarily mean the end of a thought. Sometimes they do. But. Sometimes they just indicate a hiatus.

Forward slashes (/) within speeches indicate the point at which the next character starts speaking.

Brackets ( ) indicate sotto voce.

An ellipsis (…) in place of a speech indicates a pressure or an attempt to speak.

Beats are of varying length, relative to the pace of the scene. Long beats are longer. Obviously. Silences are longer still.

A question without a question mark indicates a flatness of tone.

I think that’s it.

It’s probably not.

PART ONE

Southend, Essex.

A milk-white day at the arse-end of summer.

SMUDGE and PUGH sit high up on the crumbling, graffitidaubed sea wall. PIDGE stands between them, wearing a surgical eyepatch.

DAN stands below on the sand/shingle, smoking a cigarette.

All are mid-twenties and are dressed in variations of black suits with ties (except SMUDGE who is in a short-sleeved shirt with no jacket). They each have a beer.

A long silence – as long as we can get away with – as they look out at the water.

The occasional swig of beer.

Nothingness.

PIDGE looks around at the other boys.

One. Two. Three. And himself.

Beat.

PIDGE. Well he’s fucked up the five-a-side, en e?

SMUDGE and PUGH laugh/smile. To acknowledge the joke more than anything. DAN doesn’t react.

Silence again.

What time is it now?

No one responds.

Beat.

PIDGE takes out his phone and checks the time, puts it away again.

Beat.

She wants to hurry up, I need a shit

PUGH. Nice

SMUDGE. I could do with / a poo

PIDGE. I’ve already had two, it’s that fuckin coffee

SMUDGE. I ain’t bin all day

PUGH. What / coffee?

SMUDGE. I think it’s the stress

PIDGE. I had a double expresso this mornin before I et anyfin.

PUGH. Espresso.

PIDGE. You what?

PUGH. Espresso. Not expresso

PIDGE. Yeah that’s what I said, espresso.

PUGH. Alright

PIDGE. Na I did

PUGH. Alright

PIDGE. I fuckin did, Smudge didn’t I say?

SMUDGE. I dint fink you drinked coffee?

PIDGE. Na well I don’t do I cos it makes me shit.

PUGH. Makes you talk shit

SMUDGE. Then why’d you have one?

PIDGE. I dunno I thought it might gissa bit of summink, help us out or whatever like, I dunno

PUGH. You should’ve had your spinach.

PIDGE. My what?

PUGH. Your spinach.

PIDGE. What the fuck are you on about?

SMUDGE. Spinach

PUGH. Popeye

PIDGE. Popeye?

PUGH. Popeye, spinach

SMUDGE. Oh / yeah

PIDGE. Popeye yer fuckin – don’t start all that again

PUGH. Aye aye

PIDGE. Oi I mean it I’m tryin to have a serious conversation here / yer cunt

PUGH. About how coffee makes you poo!

PIDGE. About how putting a mate in the ground takes it outta yer.

Long beat.

SMUDGE. Are knackerin ent they.

PIDGE. Eh?

SMUDGE. I never bin to one before.

PIDGE. What, like never?

SMUDGE. Na

PIDGE. What about

PUGH. Lucky you

PIDGE. Y’know like…

SMUDGE. What.

PIDGE. Your old man

SMUDGE. Oh. Na.

PIDGE. Yer never went?

SMUDGE. Na

PIDGE. What, yer mum never took yer?

SMUDGE shakes his head.

That’s a bit fuckin…

SMUDGE shrugs.

SMUDGE. I was only two.

PUGH. Three.

SMUDGE. Eh?

PUGH. You were three.

SMUDGE. Was I?

PUGH. Yeah.

SMUDGE. Oh.

SMUDGE counts on his fingers.

Yeah, I was only three.

PIDGE. So what? Two, three, mate, if someone tried to stop me goin…

He shakes his head/puffs out his cheeks.

PUGH. What?

PIDGE. I wouldn’t ave it, like, I’d kick right off.

PUGH. At three years old?

PIDGE. Yeah I would / yeah.

PUGH. You’re three years old.

PIDGE. So what?

PUGH. You can hardly talk let alone / kick off.

PIDGE. Yeah I’d find a way wouldn’t I

PUGH. Alright.

PIDGE. Na I would though

PUGH. You struggle with speaking now

PIDGE. As if, yer fuckin…

Beat.

PUGH. Go on

PIDGE. Latvian.

PUGH. Good one. You’ve been warned once

SMUDGE. I wouldna wanted to be there anyway I don’t think.

PIDGE. Course you would.

SMUDGE. Mmn.

PIDGE. What you talkin about, course you would

SMUDGE. Dunno.

PIDGE. Course you would, why not?

SMUDGE. Horrible ent they?

PUGH. Well. / Yeah.

PIDGE. Yeah they are yeah

SMUDGE. Knew it would be, but.

Beat.

PUGH. Yeah.

PIDGE. Yeah.

PUGH. Did you see his mum?

PIDGE. Yeah.

SMUDGE. Yeah.

Beat.

Fit.

PUGH. I meant the state of her.

SMUDGE. Oh. Yeah.

PUGH. Crying and

SMUDGE. Yeah. That was bad. She is fit though.

PUGH. Well yeah but

SMUDGE. Yeah

PIDGE. Yeah yer would, like

PUGH. Yeah

SMUDGE. Me too

PUGH. But

PIDGE. Yeah

SMUDGE. And his nan.

Beat.

PUGH. What?

SMUDGE. Bit.

PIDGE. What?!

PUGH. His nan?

SMUDGE. Yeah

PIDGE. You are fuckin jokin?!

SMUDGE. Na / she’s

PIDGE. You’re not well mate.

SMUDGE. She’s got them eyes.

PIDGE. Them eyes? What eyes?

PUGH. She has got eyes

SMUDGE. Them go-to-bed eyes

PIDGE. You fuckin

PUGH. Come, / Smudge.

PIDGE. Titbag.

SMUDGE. What?

PUGH. She’s got them come-to-bed eyes.

SMUDGE. See, Pughie knows.

PUGH. I’m / not

PIDGE. He’s not agreein!

SMUDGE. Pugh?

PUGH. No!

PIDGE. You fuckin…

PUGH. ‘Go-to-bed’.

SMUDGE. Whatever, I ain’t the only one what thinks she’s fit.

PIDGE. Course you are! Frankie’s granddad don’t even fancy her!

SMUDGE. Yeah but he’s like

PUGH. Don’t say Frankie’s granddad’s fit.

SMUDGE. Na, he’s like blind en he.

PIDGE. Exactly! Her husband’s blind! What does that tell yer?

SMUDGE. What?

PIDGE. That if he coulda seen her he wouldna done it!

SMUDGE. Come on

PUGH. He’s right.

PIDGE. She’s got a face like a roofer’s kneepad mate, I promise yer, like a bag of fuckin spanners.

SMUDGE. Na

PIDGE. Like a bag of spanners up a badger’s arsehole.

SMUDGE shrugs.

SMUDGE. Well it’s my opinion.

PIDGE. Yeah. And it’s fuckin wrong.

SMUDGE. Well.

PIDGE. It is though.

SMUDGE. Well

PIDGE. It fuckin is

SMUDGE shrugs.

It is.

SMUDGE. My opinion though. So.

PUGH. Good luck to you.

SMUDGE. Cheers.

PUGH. I didn’t mean / it.

PIDGE. I tell yer what mate, his granddad don’t look like he’s got long left so you might still have a chance there

SMUDGE. Oh leave it out.

PIDGE. Leave what out?

SMUDGE. I ain’t…

PIDGE. You ain’t what?

SMUDGE. Actually gonna

PIDGE. Gonna what?

SMUDGE. Try and do her or

PUGH. Smudge

SMUDGE. I’m sayin I ain’t!

PIDGE. Yeah but yer just said yer would though

SMUDGE. It’s Frankie’s nan

PIDGE. But yer just fuckin said

SMUDGE. If she was someone else

PUGH. She’s not, so let’s leave it shall we?

PIDGE. Na hold up, let’s say she is, right, let’s just say she’s some other old bird with a face like a fuckin road map then, what, she’s gettin a bit of Smudge is she?

SMUDGE shrugs.

SMUDGE. If she wants a bit

PIDGE. I’m gonna have to take you out and get you a bird mate, cos that ain’t right

SMUDGE. Orses for courses.

PIDGE. You’d be better off if she was a fuckin orse! At least she’d have her own teeth!

PUGH. Imagine that.

PIDGE. You imagine it

PUGH. No, not that. Outliving your own grandkid.

Beat.

PIDGE. Fuckin ell yeah.

Beat.

Kirsty did well, eh? Didn’t make a scene or nuffin.

PUGH. Yeah

PIDGE. Good on her, like. Poor cow. Didn’t cry or nuffin. Not even when his dad was talkin. I mean I nearly fuckin went then.

Beat.

I thought he might’ve cracked a joke or summink, dint you? Back at the ouse, just now, lighten the mood a bit

PUGH. I doubt he felt like it mate.

PIDGE. I don’t mean a stand-up routine, do I? I just mean a little summink: a mention, a funny story or whatever. People need a laugh dunt they, day like today

PUGH. Do they?

PIDGE. Yeah course they do, what you talkin about? That ‘light of our lives’ stuff he was doin by the buffet, that ain’t gonna do no one any favours is it?

PUGH. Can you hear yourself?

PIDGE. I ain’t havin a go, like, I’m just sayin

PUGH. What are you saying?

PIDGE. That people know all that, dunt they? That’s why they’re there – ’s why they’re there in the first place cos he’s, fuckin… y’know. He’s Frankie. They don’t need reminding of why they’re depressed; what they need is to laugh a bit, innit?

PUGH. Right. You should’ve told your fish joke.

PIDGE. Yeah I should of, yer right, they’da lapped / it up.

SMUDGE. What’s your fish joke?

PUGH. You’ve heard it.

SMUDGE. I ain’t.

PUGH. Trust me

PIDGE. It would’ve had em rollin

SMUDGE. What / is it?

PUGH. You reckon?

PIDGE. I know it mate, yeah get this:

PUGH. Please don’t.

PIDGE. No I ain’t doin the joke am I, listen right: my granddad’s last year right: me uncles were carryin the box, all the four of em on the four corners, like. Now there’s one of em – (To SMUDGE.) you’ve met him as it goes: Divvy Brian.

SMUDGE looks back blankly.

Me Uncle Brian – bit fat, sort of bald in the middle.

SMUDGE shakes his head.

Divvy Uncle Brian, used to work up Peter Pan’s on the burgers, had that funny sort of skin thing on his hands