The Wife of Cyncoed (NHB Modern Plays) E-Book

Matt Hartley

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 57

Beschreibung

Jayne is newly retired and disappointed with her life. She's in danger of becoming her daughter's babysitting service, and is desperate to make a change. When she meets a handsome stranger in the park – and an opportunity to do something for herself arises – can Jayne allow herself a second chance at happiness? Matt Hartley's play The Wife of Cyncoed is a charming and open-hearted play about self-discovery later in life. It premiered at Sherman Theatre, Cardiff, in 2024, and provides gloriously entertaining opportunities for a mature solo performer.

Leseprobe

Matt Hartley

THE WIFE OF CYNCOED

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Original Production Details

Acknowledgements

Characters

Notes on the Text

Notes on Location

The Wife of Cyncoed

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

The Wife of Cyncoed was first performed at Sherman Theatre, Cardiff, on 7 March 2024. The cast was as follows:

JAYNE

Vivien Parry

Director

Hannah Noone

Designer

April Dalton

Lighting Designer

Katy Morison

Composer and Sound Designer

Sam Jones

Production Manager

Mandy Ivory-Castile

Company Stage Manager

Josh Mile

Deputy Stage Manager

Amy Liddington

Assistant Stage Manager

Emily Howard

Technical Manager

Rachel Mortimer

Technicians

Ruby James Charlie Moore Lydia Coomes Weronika Szumelda

Workshop Manager

Alasdair Head

Construction

Mathew Thomas

Costume Assistant

Celia Favorite

RWCMD Student Construction Placement

Harry Hughes

Scenic Artist

Emily Jones

BSL Interpreter

Claire Anderson

Captioner

Erika James

Audio Description

Acknowledgements

Deep thanks to all those who have helped bring this to life. Rachel O’Riordan for getting the ball rolling. Giles Smart, David Mercatali, Branwen Davies, Caroline Berry, Julia Barry and the entire staff at the Sherman for all the work they have given to help shape and bring this show to life.

Davina Moss for diving into the guts and Joe Murphy for all his wit, wisdom and continual belief in the project. The fantastic creative team: Amy, Emily, Josh, April, Katy and Sam. Huge thanks to the wonderful Hannah Noone and Vivien Parry for being so bold, playful and reminding me why I started writing plays in the first place.

My daughter and all her grandparents for their inspiration (and free childcare).

And my wife who loves love.

M.H.

Character

JAYNE, sixty-six

Notes on the Text

A dash ( – ) at the end of a line indicates an interrupted thought or unfinished sentence.

An ellipsis (…) suggests a loaded or pregnant pause.

A dash ( – ) alone on a line indicates a new moment in time.

An ellipsis (…) alone on a line indicates a thought, silence or inarticulation.

Notes on Location

Cyncoed is an affluent suburb in Cardiff. It’s historically aspirational and where people with money in the city often live or want to live. Anyone from Cardiff would understand what that name represents. Any location change would need to reflect that. For example, if it was set in Sheffield it would be The Wife of Dore; in Bristol – The Wife of Clifton; Manchester – The Wife of Hale, etc.

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

Penny’s holding court.

She’s there, she is, swinging gently back, forth, in the egg chair I’s had my eye on all afternoon.

And I’m trying not to listen in, I’m just trying to enjoy my little glass of Prosecco but there is a lot of laughter coming from all those listening to her story.

Portugal – that is the word that I can’t help but focus on.

Penny’s saying about why they chose to get a villa there:

That it’s better than Spain, that you gets more for your money.

But mostly how it is for Malcolm, my ex, her husband, and his golfing.

‘Not that the courses are thanking us,’ Penny says, ‘every time he plays a round, he digs a new bunker.’

And Malcolm, do you know what he’s doing, he’s stood there smiling, he’s actually got his hands up, playfully protesting, as Penny makes this joke at his expense.

‘Are you alright there?’

It takes me a moment to realise Penny’s talking to me. Somehow, see, I’ve just ended up in the midst of this group.

‘Oh, sorry, ignore me’, and I looks at Dave, my son-in law, and goes, ‘I’s just admiring the egg chair. New isn’t it.’

Dave just nods, sips his beer.

‘John Lewis, right, Dave?’

‘Better ask your daughter. I just pay for it.’

I’m suddenly telling everyone that I’ve got my eye on one too. That I got a few vouchers from work on my last day. Put them towards it. How I’s got a real sun trap down the back of my garden.

Mixture of nods and smiles, sips of drinks, greet me back. Then Dave goes he is off to get another beer and asks if anyone else wants one. And a few others, say ‘I’ll come too’ and starts to head back towards the house with him.

‘Would you like to give it a try?’

Penny’s asking as she gracefully hops out.

‘No, no, don’t get out on my account.’

‘Honestly, it’s fine, I think we’ve all had enough out here anyway.’

I look up at Penny, her hair glistening in the sun and try to match her smile.

‘Will you be alright getting in?’

Malcolm actually seems concerned as he asks. As if he’s dealing with someone really old, like the way he used to speak to his mother in her last few years.

Penny slaps him on the arm.

‘She’ll be plenty fine.’

I watch them walk back up towards the house. Malcolm’s hand it’s resting on Penny’s bum, guiding her to where all the noise is now spilling out from.

I feel the sun on me.

I push the egg swing a little. Test it. Springier than I thought.

I goes to get in –

‘Mam, there you are.’

It’s Emma, she’s come walking over with Jacob, my grandson, in her arms.

‘I could really do with your help, you know.’

The smell hits me, a one-year-old’s diet: Breast milk, mixed with mashed sweet potato, and broccoli – however used to it, it can’t help but make your eyes water.

‘Come here, Nanny will take care of you.’

It is not the easiest nappy change. It’s one of those ones, you know, where it’s all leaked out of the side. I tries to distract myself a little from the smell and the flecks of broccoli trapped under his scrotum by looking at the photos they got all framed up around his nursery.

Jacob there in Emma’s arms just after he has been born. All sweat and tears and love.

Clara, my eldest grandchild, probably, what just turned two, with me pushing her in the swings down by the lake.

Next to that there’s a photo of Malcolm, Penny, Emma, Jacob and Clara all smiles as they sit together eating lunch at the villa in Portugal, by the side of its sparkling pool.

It gets me thinking about my passport, about where I put it.

Truth be told, I don’t even know if it is in date any more.

As I spread a bit of Sudocrem on Jacob’s bum, I can hear Emma chatting downstairs:

‘Dad, your glass is empty, let me get you a drink.’

‘Oh, go on, you twisted my arm. Tell Penny I’s just going to spend one.’

I go to shut Jacob’s door, but –