Damsels in Distress

by Alan Ayckbourn

  Sorrel (in feigned ecstasy) Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

  Kelly turns the music even louder to drown Sorrel out. She starts singing somewhat tunelessly along with the music, anything to shut out the bedroom sounds. Sorrel enters from the bedroom in a state of shock. She stands swaying in the doorway. She clutches her robe around her, protectively. Kelly at last sees her. She hastily switches off the music.

  Kelly Sorrel? Sorrel?

  Sorrel seems to be having trouble breathing.

  What’s wrong?

  Sorrel (sitting, speaking with difficulty) I don’t think I can do this, Kell. I don’t think I can do this. (starting to pant now, rather as if she was going into labour) I can’t do it. I can’t do it …

  As her panic attack continues, Kelly holds her, comforting her.

  Kelly (sadly) I don’t know why you ever thought you could.

  A moment and Leo returns, fully dressed.

  Leo (brightly) Thank you very much indeed. Most enjoyable. I’ve left the money on your dressing table, Mandy, I hope that’s in order. It’s all there. But if you want to count it I shan’t be in the least … (seeing Sorrel’s condition) She alright, is she?

  Kelly Yes, she’s just – she’s just feeling a little bit …

  Leo Ah, well. Probably the excitement. I must say I feel a little – Hah!

  Quite suddenly, he appears to have been struck a massive blow by an invisible sledgehammer. He falls to his knees evidently in great pain.

  (in great surprise) Oh! (He looks at them.) Oh! (with a last look around the room and indeed the world) Oh!

  He falls on his face and lies still. The women stare at him. Sorrel is quiet now. Tentatively, Kelly goes over to Leo and cautiously examines him.

  Kelly (in a whisper) Sorrel, he’s not breathing. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

  Sorrel (softly) Oh, God.

  Blackout.

  End of Act One.

  Act Two

  SCENE ONE

  The same. Later that evening, around 11 p.m. Sorrel sits at the desk. She is staring at the screen of her laptop. But her mind seems on other things. She is in her bathrobe, without make-up and looks very pale and unhappy. Lynette comes from the bedroom. She is in her dressing gown, ready for bed. She looks at Sorrel anxiously.

  Lynette I wish you’d go to bed, Sorrel.

  Sorrel (muted) I don’t want to go to bed.

  Lynette You look terrible. If you’re not better in the morning, I’m dragging you to the doctor’s. Whether you like it or not.

  Sorrel There’s nothing wrong, I’ve said.

  Lynette You haven’t eaten a thing. You’ve had no supper at all.

  Sorrel I didn’t want anything.

  Lynette You’re not going anorexic on me as well, are you?

  Sorrel Do I look anorexic?

  Lynette You can’t always tell.

  Silence.

  What happened today?

  Sorrel What do you mean?

  Lynette You were perfectly fine this morning. When I left. I come home and find you like this.

  Sorrel Things change. I’m a teenager. I get mood swings. Sorry.

  Lynette Something happened.

  Sorrel Nothing happened.

  Lynette I know when you’re lying.

  Sorrel (angrily) Will you just leave me alone, please?

  Lynette Alright. (She coughs.)

  Lynette goes to her bag and with great deliberation takes out a cigarette and lights it. She sits in the armchair. Sorrel watches her for a moment. Lynette stares back.

  Sorrel (at length) Why are you doing that?

  Lynette To annoy you.

  Sorrel I see.

  Lynette If you’re going to shout at me, be thoroughly objectionable for no reason at all, I thought I’d better give you a reason.

  Sorrel Talk about me being childish.

  Lynette Well, we’re all children underneath, Sorrel. Didn’t you know that? We appear to grow older – visibly anyway – our faces sag, our boobs droop, our bums drop, but the irony is that inside we still feel the same as we always did. It’s other people that change us. Start to treat us differently. The young ones, the ones that used to be our contemporaries but no longer are, they grow wary of us, mistrust us with their secrets, shut us out. Because after all, what could we possibly understand any more. And that’s just the girls. As for the young men, the ones you used to have panting for you on the end of a lead. They don’t even notice you exist.

  Sorrel Rubbish.

  Lynette They don’t, most of them look straight through you. Unless, for some reason, you remind them of their mother. They pass me in the street, I could be a bloody litter bin as far as they’re concerned. Except at least then I’d be some use. You know I went to this party, a couple of years ago. Some colleague, same age as me – Richard Turnbull, I think it was – he was having his fortieth party, just a few friends. And I turned up a bit late and when I got there, I thought, oh God, he’s invited all these old elderly people. Why has he done this? Am I the only young one here? And then suddenly I realised, of course, I wasn’t. I was just another boring old elderly person.

  Sorrel What’s the matter with you tonight?

  Lynette You’re asking me? I’m allowed to be a moody teenager too, you know. Just because I’m forty-two, it doesn’t mean I can’t be a teenager.

  Sorrel Forty-two is not old.

  Lynette Don’t you believe it. It’s bloody old.

  Pause.

  The point is, I can’t do this all alone, Sorrel. I need you. If you shut me out, I can’t cope. I’ll just fall to pieces. I’m sorry. I know mothers are supposed to do better than that but I’m afraid I’m not that good.

  Sorrel gets up and moves to the sofa.

  Sorrel Come on, give us one of those.

  Lynette What?

  Sorrel A cigarette.

  Lynette I don’t believe it.

  Sorrel Come on.

  Lynette You don’t want a cigarette.

  Sorrel Yes, I do.

  Lynette No you don’t, they’re bad for you.

  Sorrel Nonsense. Where’d you read that?

  Lynette You really want one?

  Sorrel I just said.

  Lynette Just one then.

  She gives Sorrel a cigarette. She lights it for her.

  I hope you’re not going to start smoking.

  Sorrel Well, I was hoping it might cure my anorexia.

  Lynette We can’t afford it. Not both of us. We can only subsidise one of us.

  Sorrel Tell you what, why don’t we both make a vow that this is our last cigarette. Then tomorrow we can both give up together. How about that?

  Lynette There’s a flaw in that logic somewhere. (She stubs out her cigarette.) I must go to bed. (suddenly weary) I’ve taken a pill, I must give it a chance to work.

  Sorrel Drug addict as well.

  Lynette That’s me. (She goes to the bedroom door.) God, some nights I miss him so much, you know.

  Sorrel Dad? You can’t do. How can you? How can you miss that man?

  Lynette I know to you that sounds so absurd. And I don’t want to sound elderly, but one day you’ll understand. You can’t choose to love someone, Sorrel. Or to stop loving them sometimes. I wish it was that simple. I really do. ’Night.

  Sorrel ’Night. Sleep well.

  Lynette goes off to the bedroom.

  (softly) I hope. (She takes a final drag on her cigarette and coughs.) These are disgusting. How can she do it? (She stubs out her cigarette and goes to her bag. She takes out her everyday mobile and speed-dials a number. Into the phone) Hi! Give it half an hour, then come down … she’s taken a pill, she’s in bed … yes, it’s high tide at the moment, so it needs to be soon … There’s nothing, don’t panic. The first thing I did was take us off the web site. There’s no way to trace us … Listen, just wait outside, I’ll let you in. (fiercely) And Kell! Will you please stop panicking!

  She rings off and starts switching off and closing up her lapto
p. In her bag, her other mobile rings. She hesitates but as it continues to ring she looks nervously towards the bedroom. She reaches in her bag and answers it.

  Hello. No, I’m afraid Mandy is no longer available, I’m sorry. No, this is her mother speaking. Goodbye.

  She rings off and switches off the phone with a certain finality. She smiles rather ruefully, then gathers up her bag and her laptop and goes off to the bedroom. As she goes she switches off the lights at the door. In the darkness outside, a party boat passes, as rowdy as ever. Its lights reflect briefly into the room then fade with the receding sound.

  A pause. Time has passed. In the darkness, Sorrel creeps in from the bedroom. She has on her tracksuit now. She creeps towards the front door. She opens it carefully. The following scene is played as quietly as possible.

  (in a whisper) Quickly, come in.

  Kelly slips in through the door. She is also in her tracksuit but in addition wears her woollen gloves and a ski-mask.

  What the hell are you wearing?

  Kelly My ski-mask.

  Sorrel What’s the point of that?

  Kelly So I won’t be recognised.

  Sorrel He’s hardly going to recognise you, is he? He’s been dead for ten hours.

  Kelly Your mother might see me.

  Sorrel If my mother catches us, we’re dead. Take it off.

  Kelly reluctantly removes the mask.

  Follow me.

  Kelly Where is he?

  Sorrel Still under my bed.

  Kelly God! How could you sleep …?

  Sorrel Sleep …!

  Kelly … with him lying underneath you like that?

  Sorrel Do you honestly think I’ve had any sleep? With a dead body in my room? I had to undress him, that was bad enough.

  Kelly (in horror) Undress him?

  Sorrel I’ll get rid of his clothes later. It’ll be more difficult to identify him, that way.

  Kelly What are you going to do with them?

  Sorrel Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. Ready, then?

  Kelly I suppose. Are his eyes still open?

  Sorrel I couldn’t close them for some reason. They kept opening again.

  Kelly Oh, dear God … this is so wrong … so wrong …

  Sorrel It is not wrong. It’s the only way. Listen, I’ve wrapped him in a blanket, you won’t see much, I promise.

  Kelly This is so wrong, we’ll go to hell, I know we will.

  Sorrel Don’t worry, we’re already there. Come on.

  They both sneak into the bedroom. A moment later they return dragging something heavy in a blanket.

  Ssshh! Quietly.

  Kelly He’s so heavy.

  Sorrel Ssshh! My mother’s just along there.

  Kelly (tearfully) He was such a nice man.

  Sorrel He was not a nice man at all, Kelly. He was a very boring little hypocrite who gave lectures about marriage and went to prostitutes.

  Kelly You can’t say that about him. Not now.

  Sorrel It’s not going to bother him, is it?

  Kelly Should we say a few words? Before we tip him over?

  Sorrel Oh, for God’s sake, Kell. Come on, pull, girl.

  Kelly It’s difficult to get a proper grip.

  Sorrel Then take those stupid gloves off. Why are you wearing gloves, anyway?

  Kelly I don’t want to leave fingerprints.

  Sorrel Kelly, I hate to tell you, but this flat is littered with your fingerprints. What the hell difference is it going to make?

  Kelly I might leave some on him.

  Sorrel You can’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies.

  Kelly You never know, not these days. They can trace you through anything. Hairs, bits of dead skin …

  Sorrel Then why are you bothering with gloves?

  They pause for breath at the windows.

  Right. The tide’s still up. Now, this is the only risky bit. As soon as I open the windows, we get him over the rail as quick as we can. But don’t let the blanket go. That’s the only thing that can link us to him. OK?

  Kelly OK.

  Sorrel I’ll check the coast is clear.

  Sorrel cautiously slides open the window a little and sticks her nose out.

  Kelly (singing softly, meanwhile)

  I danced in the morning

  When the world was begun

  And I danced in the moon

  And the stars and the sun –

  Sorrel What are you up to now?

  Kelly Just something to – see him off …

  Sorrel Well, keep it down. Come on, it’s all clear!

  They heave the body out on to the balcony and, with difficulty, prop it against the rail.

  Kelly (as they do this)

  And I came down from heaven

  And I danced on the earth –

  At Bethlehem I had my birth.

  Dance, then, wherever you may be

  I am the Lord of the Dance, said he.

  Sorrel That’s it! OK. Heave!

  As they heave the body over, she joins Kelly in the last two lines.

  Both

  And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be

  And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he.

  Hup!

  The body hits the water with a splash. They both lean against the rail catching their breath. Lynette comes blearily out of the bedroom. She has on her dressing gown. She sees Sorrel and Kelly on the balcony.

  Lynette What are you two doing?

  Sorrel Oh. Hello, Mum.

  Kelly Hello, Mrs Saxon.

  Lynette What are you doing here, Kelly? It’s the middle of the night.

  Kelly It was such a beautiful evening and I phoned Sorrel and asked if I could stand on your balcony for a minute, Mrs Saxon …

  Lynette What are you talking about? It’s a terrible night. It’s freezing cold, there isn’t even a moon. Now come in at once, both of you.

  Sorrel and Kelly traipse in.

  (an awful thought) You weren’t out there smoking drugs or something, were you? Please tell me you weren’t out there doing something you shouldn’t have been?

  Sorrel No, we were just – singing, that’s all. (She giggles.)

  Lynette Singing?

  Kelly (also finding it funny) We were singing.

  Sorrel Singing …

  Both of them go into a fit of girlish giggling. They are both clearly out of control. Lynette stares at them in horror.

  Lynette Oh, no. You’re both on drugs, I know you are.

  She continues to watch them. They roll about helplessly out of control, as the lights fade to:

  Blackout.

  SCENE TWO

  The same. A fortnight later. Late afternoon. The room is in darkness. It is now a week before Christmas. A small decorated tree stands by the window. A few cards are dotted about. In a moment, Sorrel enters and switches on the lights at the front door. She is just home from school and is dressed accordingly. She has her usual backpack and wears a coat, scarf and hat. She is currently talking on her mobile.

  Sorrel (as she enters) … no … no, he didn’t … I don’t care … no, if he wants to go out with you, he has to ask you himself … yes … (She closes the door, dumps her bag and starts removing her hat and coat during the next.) … no, Kell, that is not the point at all … you let him treat you like a – like a toilet … well, he is … he’s using you whenever it suits him … whenever he gets the urge … yes, well … don’t let him … hold out, girl … he’ll be back … Listen, you want to go out tonight? Movie maybe. Yes? I dunno, I’ll look. There’s a good one on at the – Hello? … Kell, hello? Are you still there? (She stares at her phone. The batteries are dead. She growls at it.) Oh.

  She reaches into her pack and exchanges her phone for the other one. She switches it on, studies the display and is evidently delighted with what she sees. She keys in the number and listens. During the next she sits at the desk.

  Sorry about that. No, dead battery. Listen – no, I’m on
the other one. Yes, we were saying. Well, come down later and let’s decide then … or a pizza, yes … Yes, OK … Hey, Kell, incidentally I just switched this phone on – I haven’t turned it on for days … no, I was going to get rid of it eventually … but there’ve been no more messages … no, it’s over, Kell. We did it. It’s alright … it’s been two weeks, now … more than that … we’re safe … no, if they were going to – no, if they were – Kell, no one will ever know. Alright. Trust me. I’m your friend.

  The sound of a key in the front door.

  Kell, I can’t talk any more … I have to go now. See you later.

  She ends the call and slips the phone into the desk drawer. She starts casually looking at a Christmas card as Lynette enters. She is in good spirits. She carries a carrier bag.

  Hi, Mum.

  Lynette Hello, darling. Have a good day?

  Sorrel Pretty good.

  Lynette Well, you’re not going to believe my day. (She kisses her.)

  Sorrel Why?

  Lynette You wait till I tell you. (She reaches into the carrier and waves a bottle of pink champagne. A small vocal fanfare) Tarra-tum-tarra-tum-tarrra-tum.

  Sorrel What’s that?

  Lynette Pink champagne.

  Sorrel Why?

  Lynette I got a job!

  Sorrel You did?

  Lynette A real proper job.

  She holds out her arms. They embrace excitedly.

  Sorrel (overjoyed for her) How did you do that? I mean, you never said anything. I never knew you were …

  Lynette I didn’t want to tell you before. I didn’t want to tell you in case it didn’t work out. There’ve been so many false alarms …

  Sorrel Yes, but when?

  Lynette I had the interview this lunchtime. I had the preliminary last week and then he asked me back and offered it to me on the spot. Just like that. I nearly phoned you and then I thought, no, I want to tell you in person … Oh, darling, it’s a wonderful job … I mean, it’s not the most brilliant money – but the prospects are terrific … I just know I can make it work for us …