by Nick Enright
BUNTY: [offering the tin] Have another.
JOSH: Thank you.
He takes it, then turns another page, and points to a picture.
And again. With the Marching Girls.
He passes the Walnut Surprise again to FLICK, as BUNTY looks at the book.
BUNTY: Oh, she was gorgeous.
JOSH: And still is.
He signals to FLICK to go.
BUNTY: You’re a very lucky man, Joshua. I’d say she was fighting the boys off with a stick.
FLICK: I wouldn't.
JOSH signals again. FLICK goes.
JOSH: Bunty, I’m going to ask you a great favour.
BUNTY: Yes, you can have just one more.
As JOSH opens his mouth to reply, BUNTY pops a Walnut Surprise into it.
There. I’m so pleased they’ve hit the spot. Felicity and Tom will never touch them.
JOSH struggles with the glutinous mass in his mouth.
Do you have children, Joshua?
JOSH, struggling, nods.
How many?
He holds up one finger.
Just one. A little boy or a little girl?
JOSH: [indistinctly] Girl.
BUNTY: A little girl?
JOSH: [free at last] Yes. Kelly. She’s ten. She… we left her back home.
BUNTY: Oh. And you’re missing her tonight? You look quite tearful, Josh. And I’m not surprised. Holly back at the hotel with a wonky tummy, little Kelly back at home and only two of you to pick over old times. Never mind, we’ll have a nice cheery night. I’d love to hear all the tales.
JOSH: Bunty. This favour—
BUNTY: [putting the lid on the tin] Josh, Felicity will never forgive me if I spoil your dinner.
She replaces the receiver on the telephone.
JOSH: I’m not here for dinner. I mean not just for dinner. I’ve come to…have a heart-to-heart.
BUNTY: With Felicity?
JOSH: With Felicity. Bunky… Bunty, Holly… I mean Jocelyn, and me… well, things have gone terribly wrong for us.
BUNTY: Well, yes, food poisoning for one.
JOSH: Worse. We’ve grown apart. It’s like we’re living on different sides of the continent. We haven’t had breakfast together in years. There’ve been… I’m sorry, Bunty… other men.
BUNTY: Other men. My goodness, things have changed since 1969.
JOSH: And that’s why I’m here. To reclaim the girl I loved in 1969.
BUNTY: Are you sure you’ve come to the right place?
JOSH: Oh, yes. She told you, we were—
BUNTY & JOSH: [together, fingers crossed] Like that.
BUNTY: Even so. Felicity’s a splendid girl, but not one I’d turn to for marriage guidance. Last night on television was not a portrait of a happily married woman. Spiky, the Herald said. Spiky and tense and surprisingly unsettled.
JOSH: Unsettled. Right. Like me. She can empathise.
He leads BUNTY towards the door.
BUNTY: I do hope you can bring one another a little joy.
JOSH: I hope so too.
He is manoeuvring BUNTY out the door when STEPHANIE enters from the deck with a bottle of red wine.
STEPHANIE: Here’s something with a bit more body than that piss you’ve been drinking.
BUNTY: Stephanie. Hello.
STEPHANIE: Hello, Mrs Hayes.
BUNTY: I’ve said you can call me Bunty, dear.
STEPHANIE: I couldn’t call anyone Bunty.
She starts to open the bottle.
BUNTY: I’ll leave the Walnut Surprise, Joshua. And the story for your little girl. We shouldn't be lingering, dear. They’re about to have a good heart-to-heart.
STEPHANIE: They’d better not be, Fliss has asked me to dinner.
She picks up BUNTY’ s book.
What’s this?
BUNTY: One of my stories. I brought it for—
STEPHANIE: [reading] Nyngan The Naughty Platypus…
BUNTY: It’s a good read for the adventurous ten-year-old.
STEPHANIE: Adventurous ten-year-olds don’t read. They go down behind the bike-sheds with other adventurous ten-year-olds.
JOSH: [offering the tin to STEPHANIE] Have one, please.
STEPHANIE: [taking one] That’s Brendan's problem. He never went down behind the bike-shed. A couple of sessions down there, and he could have shaken off all that Mick guilt about sex.
She puts it in her mouth, then gags as she feels its effects.
BUNTY: Sensitivity, Stephanie. We have an overseas visitor.
STEPHANIE hurries off into the kitchen.
She’ll enjoy it, Joshua. It’s an allegory. Nyngan doesn't want to share his creekbank. The review in the North Shore Times mentioned multiculturalism, which wasn’t a conscious theme, but that’s the power of literature.
JOSH: [taking it] It looks very nice.
BUNTY: I self-publish. Mirramimma Press, see? It's an Aboriginal word meaning wisdom from the treetops.
JOSH: Great. Now, Bunty—
STEPHANIE comes out of the kitchen carrying another table-setting, which she lays.
STEPHANIE: You know the only time we ever talk? On the phone, when he’s at work. And when he’s at work, I’m at work. It’s my space, my time, but Brendan rings, and I have to drop everything and listen. Never mind the hour, never mind the client, never mind my career!
JOSH: What is your career, Stephanie?
STEPHANIE: I’m in stress management. I have a consultancy in Crows Nest, and a growing number of executive clients.
STEPHANIE idly plays with the American flag, then she uproots it, leaving it on the table.
But it won’t go on growing if I have to leave a client in mid-stress every time Brendan phones to have his ego stroked by a woman he has just given up for Lent. Oh, men are such bastards!
BUNTY: Stephanie, our guest!
STEPHANIE: Oh, not him, he’s gay.
BUNTY: Oh, Joshua. When you said other men, I didn't realise…
The telephone rings. JOSH answers.
JOSH: Hello.
FLICK runs in from the kitchen.
FLICK: That phone was off the hook!
JOSH: It's Dougal. He’s resigning.
FLICK: At nine-thirty on a Saturday night?
She grabs the phone.
Doog, what's this? … He didn’t! … You didn’t! No, you’re not resigning… just go outside and look at the moon on the water… Yes there is, a lovely full one… Some nice deep breaths, and put Jean-Luc on. [To BUNTY and STEPHANIE.] Look, the lobster will only run to two.
BUNTY: Oh, I’m not hungry.
STEPHANIE: I am. And I was asked to dinner.
FLICK: [into phone] Jean-Luc? You’re fired… Yes, fired… Oh, I can. You’ll soon find another line of work, with eyes that colour.
BUNTY: They are gorgeous. Deep blue. You should see them… well, perhaps you shouldn’t, Joshua.
FLICK: I mean it. How’s Doog? … Still? Oh, God! Stop snivelling, Jean-Luc, and do something.
BUNTY: You mustn’t scold him, darling, the poor boy’s confused. Imagine crying in a second language.
She takes the phone.
Jean-Luc? Ici, c’est Bunty… Bunty, la mere de Felicity, oui. Oh, pauvre garcon. [To FLICK] See, darling, a little understanding works wonders.
FLICK: Bunty. Bunty, why don’t you go down there!
She and JOSH exchange glances.
BUNTY: [into telephone] Un moment, Jean-Luc.
FLICK: Go down there, mother. They both need a little, understanding. Josh will see Stephanie home, and—
STEPHANIE: What about dinner!
FLICK: What about Brendan? When he calls you’ll want to be by that phone.
STEPHANIE: When he calls? Easter’s weeks away!
FLICK: But you’re only a phone call away.
JOSH: He’ll be feeling vulnerable by now. Give him the chance to show it.
BUNTY: [into phone] Jean-Luc, ne pleurez plus, cheri.
STEPHANIE: Yes, I
will. One last chance.
She collects the red wine, and presses FLICK’s hand on her way past.
Isn’t it wonderful hearing a man use the word vulnerable? And wouldn’t you know, he’s gay?
JOSH leads her out.
BUNTY: [into phone] Bunty viendra… yes, I’m coming down, Jean-Luc, like the Foreign Legion.
She hangs up.
Oh, he laughed.
FLICK: Good for you, Bunty. You’ll work wonders. Take the Walnut Surprise.
BUNTY: I couldn’t darling. It was a gift.
FLICK: Their need is greater. And food is their field, after all.
BUNTY: I’ll come back and report, shall I?
FLICK: Call me in the morning. I’m planning an early night.
BUNTY: I don’t think so, darling. Joshua has some very big things to get off his chest.
She waves and goes out the front door. FLICK relaxes against it. She goes to the tape-deck and puts on something identifiably late sixties. She hums along as it starts to play. She fetches a bottle of white wine. She looks out along the deck, but sees no sign of JOSH. She adjusts the table setting, planting the flag again, smiling as she does so. There is a knock on the door. She opens it. TOM stands there, without luggage.
TOM: Hi.
FLICK: Tom. This is Saturday. Isn’t it?
TOM: I thought I’d come home early. Before the clocks go back.
FLICK: Oh. Where are your keys?
TOM: I think I left them in L.A. I’ve been calling all the way home but you’ve been engaged all night. You and I have some talking to do.
FLICK: Oh, do we? Yes, we do. [With one eye on the deck] Yes.
TOM: God, that song takes you back, doesn’t it?
FLICK: Maybe a bit too far. Yes, a bit too far.
She switches it off.
Tom—
TOM: You said we never talk, and you’re right. I’ve done the deal. Jason is going to be a very rich boy.
FLICK: I didn’t say we never talk about Jason.
TOM: This is not about Jason. I mean, the deal’s in place, and that makes the rest of it simpler.
FLICK: The rest of it?
TOM: I met this… Oh, shit. You’re not going to like this. You see, I met this woman in L.A.
FLICK: Oh?
TOM: Well, not met. I’d seen her before, with Jason. But he insisted that I get in touch with her again. I didn’t really want to, but… I did. And we had this amazing rave—
FLICK: Tom, I’m not sure I can take this on board tonight.
TOM: Listen to me, please. She’s made me come to terms with a lot of things about us.
FLICK: About us?
TOM: I mean… come to terms with me.
FLICK: What sort of terms?
TOM: Well, what I need out of life. But it’s going to mean some big changes. I want…
FLICK: What? What!
TOM: I want to start my life again.
JOSH appears on the deck.
JOSH: That’s a woman who’s not easy to get away from.
He sees TOM.
TOM: What?
JOSH: Tom Finn.
TOM: Yes.
FLICK: And this is… I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.
They look at one another in confusion.
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
SCENE ONE
TOM, FLICK and JOSH are in the same positions, scarcely a moment later.
JOSH: Josh. Josh Makepeace.
FLICK: I’m sorry. Very sorry.
JOSH: I’m a friend of Stephanie’s.
FLICK: Yes, a friend of Stephanie’s. I was just going to give them dinner. Is that right?
JOSH: Yes. Yes, that’s right. We’ve been looking forward to it. I hear she’s a great cook.
TOM: The best. You’re from the States?
JOSH: Yes. Your wife raised the flag in my honour.
TOM: [seeing it] So she did.
FLICK: Tom’s just in from the States himself, so you’ll excuse him if he flakes.
TOM: I’m fine, Flix. I slept all the way on the plane. But I am ravenous.
FLICK: Oh. Good.
JOSH: Flix. That’s an unusual name.
TOM: Short for Felicity. Why don’t you go and hurry Steph along?
JOSH: Oh. Sure. If… uh… Felicity’s ready.
FLICK: I think I’m just about ready for anything now.
JOSH: Boy, if I’d known I was going to get to meet Tom Finn…
He goes out via the terrace.
TOM: How did he know who I was?
FLICK: He’s a tennis fan. I believe.
TOM: Shit. If there’s one thing I don’t want to talk about tonight it’s tennis.
FLICK: You amaze me. Tom. This woman in Los Angeles—
TOM: Look, we’ll feed those two quick-smart, and then we’ll talk.
FLICK: I need to know now. Before they come back.
TOM: Flix, it’s big stuff.
There is a knock on the door.
How many people are you expecting tonight?
He opens the door. JASON stands there in expensive casual clothes, carrying a small bag.
JASON: What’s the story, Finno?
TOM: Jason.
JASON: You came back early.
FLICK: Hello, Jason.
JASON: Hello, Mrs Finn. [To TOM] What went wrong?
TOM: Nothing.
JASON: You shouldn’t do this to me.
TOM: Do what?
JASON: Distort my rhythms like this. Today’s been totally negative for me. I couldn’t meditate, I couldn’t go with the flow at physio—
TOM: Why, Jase?
JASON: I couldn’t find you. I called the hotel, you’d checked out.
I called Heidi—
TOM: Jason.
FLICK: Heidi?
JASON: And she said you’d come home. Oh, and you left your keys by the pool.
His watch-alarm goes off.
I have to eat.
FLICK: I only have one lobster!
JASON: I’ve brought my own food.
He takes some small containers from his bag, and lays them on the table.
FLICK: What’s for dinner?
JASON: Azuki beans, shitaki, tofu, miso—
FLICK: That’s not dinner, that’s the cast of a Kung Fu movie.
JASON: [settling to eat] And what about the deal?
TOM: The deal’s signed. Why are you here, Jason?
JASON: I suppose you’ve read the Herald, Mrs Finn?
FLICK: Today’s? Yes, I have.
JASON: What do you think?
FLICK: Well, everyone’s entitled to an opinion.
JASON: Even if it’s totally negative? Did you show him?
FLICK: No, I didn’t.
JASON: I’ve brought a copy.
He brings one out of his bag.
FLICK: Jason! Oh. The sport section.
JASON: Well, of course the sport section. Letters this big: ‘Strutt’s Comeuppance’.
TOM: [grabbing it] Let me see that!
He looks in his pockets and briefcase.
Oh, shit, my reading glasses. Don’t tell me I left them…
FLICK: By Heidi’s pool?
TOM: Could be. Read it for me, Flix.
FLICK: [taking the paper from TOM] ‘Strutt’s Comeuppance?’ It does end with a question-mark. By Vin Barnett. ‘Has Jason Strutt been on top of the heap too long for his own good? Wednesday’s Tokyo tournament will be crucial for the Kiama Kid—
JASON: They’ve got to stop calling me that.
FLICK: ‘Japanese prodigy Yoshi Yakimura is ranked only 23 in current seedings, but Nipponese training innovations have given him a style like something perfected by Nashua.’
TOM: Bullshit.
FLICK: ‘Is Yoshi the one to beat Strutt? Last week’s bad boy behaviour at Monte Carlo—
JASON: That was a bad line-call!
TOM: No, it wasn’t.
JASON: Was. You got any yeast, Mrs Finn?
JASON goes out crossly.
Heard enough?
TOM: Yes, but go on.
FLICK: And the last thing you wanted to talk about tonight was tennis. Uh… ‘Monte Carlo… the latest in a series of high-profile tantrums. Strutt holds his international ranking, and he’s still a brilliant, if erratic young player. But how long will Tom Finn, his manager, coach and surrogate dad—
TOM: Christ, I’m sick of that!
FLICK: ‘… let the boy play up? Till he ends up on the scrap-heap of tennis history?’
STEPHANIE and JOSH come in from the deck.
STEPHANIE: Hi, Tom. You’re back early.
She looks at the table.
You said lobster. What’s this shit?
JASON comes out of the kitchen with a jar of yeast. JOSH sees him and is dumbfounded.
JASON: Don’t touch those, please. They’re laid out in order.
JOSH: Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
TOM: Stephanie, I think you’re friend wants to be introduced.
STEPHANIE: Oh. Right. Jason, this is… [to JOSH] What’s your name again?
JOSH: [laughing heartily] She’s such a cut-up. Josh Makepeace.
STEPHANIE: Yes. Joss Makepeach.
FLICK: Steph, come and give me a hand in the kitchen.
JOSH: Oh, God, this is… awesome. Jason Strutt.
FLICK hears this as she firmly steers STEPHANIE out.
TOM: You’re a tennis fan, Joss?
JOSH: Josh. I’m a Jason Strutt fan.
JASON: Thank you.
TOM: I thought you’d support one of your own boys.
JOSH: This guy is poetry. [To JASON] I saw you at Flushing Meadows. I felt like I was part of history.
JASON: History? Did you read this?
He passes the Herald article.
You have to do something, Finno.
TOM: Jason, I won’t take on Vin Barnett. He’s covering Tokyo. And he’s right about Monte Carlo.
JOSH: [still reading] That was a bad line-call.
JASON: Thank you.
TOM: Bullshit. And he’s reflecting public opinion.
JASON: That’s not public opinion. This guy is public opinion.
JOSH: [throwing down the Herald] Where’s his historical perspective? They said this kind of thing about Mozart.
TOM: Mozart never threw his racket at the umpire’s stand.
JASON: Do you know that for a fact?
TOM: No, but he probably never tossed a glass of guava juice over the front row of a press conference.
JASON: I bet he wanted to. I’d like to hear from his guy.