Alfred If you came here more than once every few months you might know. Maria was being abused by her boyfriend – she feared for her life. I told her to come and live here.
Gemma You did what?
Alfred Till we get the government to sort her out.
Gemma Maria, would you excuse us a moment?
Maria Oh, of course. I go upstairs.
Alfred No, you stay here. If you have something to say . . .
Gemma (low as she can go) Maria, go upstairs.
Maria Is OK, Alfred, I go . . . I need to, eh, clear head.
Alfred Don’t you leave now.
She leaves the room.
Gemma You don’t know this girl from Adam, how can you move her into the family house?
Alfred Because I wanted to.
Gemma Don’t you think that’s something you should consult your children about – the one’s that are paying . . . ?
Alfred If you looked at your accounts you’d see that I now pay.
Gemma When I was being punched all over the place, you told me I couldn’t move in under no circumstances. But she’s . . .
Alfred That was different. Wasn’t it, Gemma?
There is something about the way he said the last sentence that makes Gemma pause and look at him.
Gemma And apart from Maria being a total stranger, how is it different?
Alfred I think the time has come for us to be honest with each other, Gemma.
Gemma I’m all for that.
Alfred I know you don’t like me. It hurts, but hey, you make children, you don’t make dey mind. I’m a straightforward man and I’ve held this on my chest too long. I’m unsure if Maria’s boyfriend found letters in her drawer saying ‘the way we made love last night – from a Susan, April and Joanna . . . ’
Gemma (shocked) Shut up. What are you talking about? . . . He told you that?
Alfred The strap-on too.
Gemma (regresses to childhood) Da what? That’s a lie . . . No, it wasn’t a lie . . . it wasn’t mine, I was looking after it for a friend.
Alfred And Kia finding you in bed with a woman – that was a lie too, or was that you returning it to said friend?
Gemma Don’t be disgusting.
Alfred Me?
Gemma So what, that validates him kicking the shit out of me and you, my father, doing nothing?
Alfred I don’t get involved in man and wife business.
Gemma And what are you doing now with Maria?!
Alfred You think he didn’t tell me all the nasty things you said about me? You know nothing about me and your mother but you would lie about me in that way? Me, who stood by you all you life . . . through your coke habit and you man troubles and you spend two seconds with your mother and I’m the devil! I could have had a career, Gemma, instead what did I do? I stayed here and looked after you and your sister.
Gemma What’s that got to do with the price of plantain?
Alfred Before you felt the need to run out and do stupidness, when you was going through this new episode, why you didn’t feel you could come and talk to me about it? I’m your father, I’m a man of the world, I could have guided you . . .
Gemma To where? To what? Have you ever listened to yourself? There’s no room to talk to you about anything other than you.
Alfred Don’t talk shit.
Gemma You’ve no idea how crushed we are under your bitterness –
Alfred I provided a home for you, Gemma. A good home.
Gemma Both your daughters leaving home the day they were sixteen – maybe it was a sign that it wasn’t so great!
Alfred It was sign of your fucking slackness. You sister just wanted to run man and you followed she nasty footsteps! You was a nastiness just looking for an excuse. I wouldn’t accept in my house. No way . . .
Gemma I actually came here to see how you were. Why do you do this to me, Dad? Why?
Alfred Because I’m disappointed in you . . . Your sister was always stupid, but you, you had brain – and you throw it away. I don’t care that you are lesbian, I care that you didn’t tell me. I had to hear it on road. In the betting shop. Thrown in my face. My favourite child I had to hear from strangers tings that she should have told me to my face . . . when a man throw away he life for his family he wants a return. I don’t get nothin’, Gemma . . . and I might as well tell you now. When I die, all you will be getting nothing in return from me. Not a bloody cent.
Gemma (almost cool) You’re a vindictive, nasty old man. I don’t want nothing from you . . .
Alfred Good. Now, I have used all the energy I have for the next three days. I’d like you to leave now please . . . Thank you.
Gemma stares at him and exits.
Lights.
Scene Two
Alfred is on the sofa, covered with a warm blanket. He has his glasses on and is reading from a book of Polish poetry. He reads aloud the first stanza from ‘In Black Despair’ by Czeslaw Milosz.
Maria Is Polish?
Alfred Czeslaw Milosz . . . Did I say that correctly?
Maria Yes, you say correct. Is very depressing in English. You must read in Polish now.
Alfred I don’t know how to read Polish.
Maria I teach you, like you teach me English.
Alfred You don’t think I look too old for such things?
Maria This is England. There are drugs for such things?
Alfred (almost childlike) Come on, is your turn. Your turn now.
Maria OK. Choice is yours. Right hand, left.
Alfred What’s in them?
Maria Don’t you worry about that, Mr Alfred. I left cleaning Mrs Gerald house early so I could go to internet café and find.
Alfred OK. Left.
Maria I was hoping you’d say that.
She runs out of the room.
Alfred But I could have said right and you could still have done whatever you choose cos you didn’t have anything in your hands.
Maria Quiet, I’m trying to get myself prepare. OK, where is stereo . . . I’ve recorded the music and everything. Now don’t laugh, I try it in Polish and does not work. So I have to do in English –
Alfred I promise I won’t laugh.
Maria OK. Ladies and gentlemen present, I present to you the LORD INVADER.
She switches on the music from her phone and enters wearing a 1950s-style hat and jacket that she must have taken from Alfred’s wardrobe. It is an old-time calypso rhythm. She sings to Alfred in her Polish accent.
Maria
The only ting to stop these hooligans
From causing panic in Great Britain,
The only ting to stop these teddy boys
From causing panic in England,
Well I hope that the government
See they need another kind of punishment,
I say one ting to cool down this crime
Is to bring back the old-time cat-o’nine.
(Chorus.)
So the old-time cat-o’nine beat them bad
And they bound to change they mind,
Send them to Dartmoor with licks like fire
And they bound to surrender.
Bom bom bom.
Alfred falls about laughing.
Alfred Bravo, bravo! Fantastic! Oh my God, it was Lord Invader himself.
Maria You like?
Alfred Haaaa. I love . . .
Maria I was going to sing ‘Yellow Bird’ – but like this better.
He starts to cough. After a while Maria sees that he is not stopping. She runs into the kitchen and returns with a drink of water . . .
Alfred No, no, where the, give me the coconut water . . .
Maria I don’t have any ready.
He takes a sip of the water – it is almost as if it is paining him to swallow. But he settles. His chest, however, is giving him much pain.
Maria Sorry, I make you laugh too much.
Alfred Don’t be stupid. Where you get that song, girl? I don’t hear that since . . . I was a child.
Maria (off) Internet . . . You tell me about teddy boys stories, no? Have whole universe of information.
Alfred Even old West Indian ting?
Maria (off) Everything, Alfred. What a great time to live in, no?
She re-enters with a coconut. She has made a hole in the top. Without Alfred seeing she finishes breaking the last piece of a painkiller in it. When she arrives in front of Alfred she pours the water from the coconut into his glass. He drinks it down quite quickly.
Maria There you are.
Alfred Even the coconut water taste crap in this country. Where you get it from, the shop on the corner?
Maria No, I went to Shepherd’s Bush as you tell me.
Alfred The ting must be off.
Maria They have long way travelling.
Alfred True, true. Anytime I was sick as a boy – bare coconut water my mother would feed me. Medicine for the soul, she say.
Maria How is pain now?
Alfred Sharp but . . . OK.
Maria Do you want a painkiller? . . .
Alfred I told you, I want me mind, not no drugs.
Maria Except marijuana . . .
Alfred I hate that too. Always did. Figure that is why the black man so behind, take them people drugs and make himself slow and stupid. Didn’t have a puff you know till I was sixty-two. Bit like masturbation really.
Maria What?
Alfred Didn’t do that till my wife left me when I was about thirty-five. After that, I was addicted!
Maria Maybe you should allow the nurse to come see you, Alfred. I am home help, not nurse, but even I know weed is not good enough pain relief . . .
Alfred Once they see me they will put me straight into a hospice. I know how to look after myself, and all you doing is helping me, OK?
Beat as Alfred looks Maria straight in the eye.
Alfred (straight) How you feeling? Are you still OK about it?
Maria I scared.
Alfred But you ready?
Maria nods. Beat.
Maria If you are.
Alfred smiles.
Maria takes off jacket and hat and stands next to Lillie. Alfred takes out a book from under the sofa and reads from it.
Alfred OK. Go, turn the heating down so the temperature in the room is at nine degrees. Go on.
Maria slowly goes to the thermostat and turns the heating down.
Alfred OK, while we wait for that – bring the green box, get the two rubber bands and the plastic bag. You’ve made sure that the bands are strong enough?
She goes to the kitchen and returns with the cocktail shaker and big IKEA plastic cups. Then she goes to the drawer and takes out the rubber bands and plastic bag.
Make sure when me children see me, they see me like this, yeah? Don’t take the bag off.
Maria Won’t they ask who bought the rubber bands?
Alfred You show them the IKEA receipt. Don’t be scared, Maria, I have written everything down. It’s not illegal to commit suicide in this country – all you’ll be doing is finding me. So that my body doesn’t sit here for weeks rotting. My only remembrance. Alfred Morris died alone, like a rotten fruit.
Maria But is there law for watching?
Alfred (ignoring) The water please . . . coconut.
She goes to the kitchen and returns with it.
Very good. Now bring that table a bit closer to me.
She does. Alfred opens the green box that has been placed on the table. It is filled with the barbiturate painkillers he has not been taking.
We don’t move this table from this moment forward, OK?
Maria You very smart, Alfred. I first think you no take painkillers cos you like macho man. But you just save up. How much you have there?
Alfred About three months’ supply.
Maria How much you need?
Alfred Two months’. OK. I am now going to place the contents of the capsules into the water, shake, into the cup and drink it . . .
He imitates doing it but drinks the water.
Maria How long till you sleep?
Alfred Not long at all. But this will help, reduces air . . .
He places the plastic bag over his head and affixes it with the rubber bands.
And then I sleep.
He throws his head back as if having just died. After a few beats Maria runs up and pulls the bag off his head.
Alfred (flips) What are you doing? I told you not to do that.
Maria (flips right back) . . . Is rehearsal, Alfred. You don’t have to pretend to die.
Alfred Are you going to freak out like this on the day?
Maria No . . .
Alfred . . . Cos if so you need to tell me now, Maria. I need everything to be perfect and if you can’t . . .
Maria I said I will do, so I will, Alfred, OK. It’s just you pretend too long.
Alfred It’s going to be a bit longer than that when we go for real.
Maria That is then, not now.
Alfred Fine . . . legally you’re fine, Maria. Go right now and get the copy of the letter you posted for me to the solicitor – here’s the book. It is all there.
Maria I don’t want to read the book, Alfred . . . Anyway, I ask Ms Donoghue, legal woman I clean for.
Alfred You told her about . . . ?
Maria No, I ask as if plot in soap opera previous night. Ask if this could happen . . . She tell me maybe, but is difficult after how, she say, Doctor Shipson . . .
Alfred Shipman.
Maria Yes. She say most people who do this go Switzerland . . .
Alfred Why I leaving one cold place to go to a next cold place to dead? No sir . . .
Maria (thinks) You no want to see your home before you go, Alfred?
Alfred I thought about it, but I don’t have nobody home, Maria. No one that would want to see me anyway.
Maria When was the last time you saw the sea of home?
Alfred Twelve, fifteen years ago.
Maria Alfred . . . I have idea. Take me home with you before you go.
Alfred Pardon?
Maria All the stories you tell me, you could show me . . .
Alfred What?
Maria (excited at new idea) I always want to go to Caribbean. Let’s go home together. I have money, I save four hundred pounds – you no have to worry about pay . . .
Alfred I’m not worried about the money.
Maria Then good, let’s go?
Alfred This isn’t a trip to IKEA you know . . . I’m a sick man . . .
Maria We go for one week. You sleep all the way. If pain, then you take killer – not as if you haven’t got many spare! I see home of my Alfred, we come back, you say goodbye happy in heart. What could be better?
Alfred thinks.
Maria Let we go home, Alfred.
Alfred That’s what me wife always use to say. ‘Let we go home, Alfred, this country, we . . . Let we go home, boy.’ I came home one morning after a long night out, got into the bed. When I woke there was a note. Many years later I thought I saw her from afar once at a funeral – I was too . . . I didn’t know how to approach, I just froze . . . They tell me she moved to Grenada about five years . . .
Maria Why she leave you, Alfred?
Alfred (looks at her) I was Tomas, Maria.
Maria I think so.
Alfred Men did things back then without thinking, that today they should not even think about. I don’t think I could see her, Maria, just the thought of it frightens me.
Maria What do people go home for, Alfred?
Alfred Family, sea, memories –
Maria – and peace.
Beat.
Alfred I think I need to sleep now.
Maria OK. I take you upstairs.
Lights.
Scene Three
Maria enters the room nervously, followed by Gemma, who seems quite annoyed.
Maria Please, you must be very quiet, Gemma . . .
Gemma I’m not whispering. Yo
u’re lucky I even walked back into this place.
Maria Please, Alfred sleep very deep at this time but if we raise voice, he . . .
Gemma goes to move the table with the green box on in order to get to sit on the sofa.
Maria Nooo, don’t touch, I have place ready for you.
Gemma You have a seat ready for me?
Maria Yes.
Gemma There’s something you may not know about West Indians, Maria – we’re very superstitious people. Telling me you have something prepared for me does very little to soothe my supernatural paranoia.
Maria What that mean?
Gemma It means I’ll stay standing, thank you.
Maria Would you like tea? I have pot pre –
Gemma stares at her.
Maria pours out two cups. She puts two large sugars in and hands Gemma the cup. Gemma takes sip.
Gemma Thank you. Bloody hell – what you put in here, the whole of Tate and Lyle?
Maria Sorry, I think everyone have sweet tooth like me.
She places it on the table.
Gemma So, what?
Maria (pops into her mind) Do you know if Alfred sent for your mother, Gemma?
Gemma Pardon?
Maria Did he send for her from Grenada, or meet here?
Gemma I have no idea.
Maria You don’t know?
Gemma That’s what I said, innit? Why you wanna know that anyway?
Maria I think your father send.
Gemma And the point of that is –?
Maria Oh no, just pop in my head. Do you know what village was father born in?
Gemma Umm, no. What’s with all these questions? What is this, some kind ah Polish 419? If you trying to thieve my father’s identity, the devil’s already done that alright.
She stands. Maria tries to quieten her.
Maria There are many things we don’t know about our parents, isn’t it, Gemma? I knew my father’s village because he lived in the same place all of his life. I knew his father’s father’s name because he lived there before him. I was his star child – only child. The first thing to go was his mind. They knew all along, but he ordered my mother not to tell me. I knew he was ill, but I left. Months later he was wandering around the house peeing himself – and there was I in London mopping the shit of others, earning money to make myself great, when I should have been looking after my father. I will never forgive myself.
Gemma stares at her.
Maria Your father will be die within four weeks.
Plays 1 Page 25