by Ella Hickson
Contents
Title Page
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
Original Production
Epigraph
Dedication
Characters
The Authorised Kate Bane
About the Author
Copyright and Performing Rights Information
Author’s Note
The genesis of The Authorised Kate Bane came from an increasing preoccupation I have had with authenticity in theatre as concerns form and performance. I’m sure this is very common in playwrights. The delight and relief of simply finishing plays and/or getting them produced, quickly gives way to a critical engagement with the work – ‘What’s it for?’ ‘When is it good?’ and most importantly ‘What is true?’ When the occasions arose to discuss these questions with other practitioners, a part of my job that I most love and feel privileged to engage in, it became very clear that what I had deemed to be personal concerns were in fact political questions.
At the same time I was talking to a neuroscientist called Demis Hassabis who was doing fascinating work into how unreliable memory was. The idea that we ‘wrote’ our pasts more than remembered them brought the concept of character right into the centre of the question of theatrical authenticity. If characters aren’t formed from their pasts, then what are they? And by extension, stories cease to be just fictions but in fact the only means we have to create any sense of ‘self’. This rather disorganised collection of ideas was enough for Grid Iron to express interest. I was delighted by the idea of returning to Scotland and working on this material with a company that had formal experimentation at their heart and whom I trusted enough to take risks with.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Ben, Jude and Deb for the opportunity to work with a company I respect and admire and in an environment that facilitates experiment and excellence; I am deeply grateful. I would like to thank Demis Hassabis for being so generous with his time and knowledge. My thanks to the cast and crew for their time, talent and ideas; my thanks too to David Greig for his continued advice – I am a braver writer because of it. My continued thanks go to Jess Cooper. Last – but by no means least – my thanks to my family and my boyfriend for their unflinching support and understanding.
E.H.
London, 2012
The Authorised Kate Bane was produced by Grid Iron Theatre Company, and first performed at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, on 12 October 2012, with the following cast:
ALBIN GOTOLD
Nicky Elliott
KATE BANE
Jenny Hulse
NESSA BANE
Anne Kidd
IKE BANE
Sean Scanlan
Director
Ben Harrison
Producer
Judith Doherty
Composer
Michael John McCarthy
Set and Costume Designer
Becky Minto
Lighting Designer
Alberto Santos Bellido
‘The unfolding drama of life is revealed more by the telling than by the actual events told. Stories are not merely “chronicles” like a secretary’s minutes of a meeting, written to report exactly what transpires and at what time. Stories are less about facts and more about meanings. In the subjective and embellished telling of the past, the past is constructed, history is made.’
D.P. McAdams
‘Most of us are not easily willing to part with the assumption that there is a shared external reality that is at least partly knowable through memory…That assumption is fundamental to many of society’s institutions, such as our legal and education systems, and it also underlies our trust in autobiographical memory as a basis for self-understanding.’
Daniel L. Schacter
For M, D and T
Characters
KATE BANE, thirty
IKE BANE, sixty-two
ALBIN GOTOLD, thirty-four
NESSA BANE, sixty-one
Note on the Text
KELSO
Dialogue/action of the ‘play’. This material is the product of Kate’s imagination, she writes this material during the performance. This dialogue/action is set in the imagined Bane house in Kelso, Scotland.
LONDON
Dialogue/action set in the London flat in which Kate writes the ‘play’.
MEMORY
Dialogue/action that is Kate’s memory, these are recalled whilst she is in her London flat, as she writes.
EDIT
Action/dialogue that represents rewriting or editing of the ‘play’ as it is being written in London.
A forward slash ( / ) in the text indicates interrupted speech.
This text went to press before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.
One
LONDON
KATE enters her bedroom. She is dressed from an evening out. She walks into the bedroom, closes the door behind her and leans against it.
ALBIN (from downstairs – barely audible). How was it?
KATE ignores the question. KATE gets changed into her pyjamas. She walks a circle around her room; she’s deep in thought, frustrated. KATE lies on the floor, she pushes her limbs out to make a starfish shape.
ALBIN knocks on the door quietly.
(Through the door.) How did it go?
KATE. I’ll be down in a second, just give me a second – I’ll come down.
No response.
ALBIN (through the door). How did it go?
Beat.
KATE. I left.
ALBIN. Before the end?
KATE. There was no point in staying.
ALBIN. That seems a bit defeatist. (Beat.) Can I come in?
KATE. I’ll come down. I’ll come down and – I’ll /
ALBIN. / Okay. Your mum rang.
KATE. Did you speak to her?
ALBIN. I introduced myself.
KATE. And?
ALBIN. And?
KATE. And?
ALBIN. She just asked if they should bring anything tomorrow.
KATE. What did you say?
ALBIN. Maybe wine.
KATE. Oh.
ALBIN. That okay?
KATE. Course. (Beat.) I’ll come down and – do supper in a tick.
ALBIN. Okay.
KATE. Okay.
ALBIN leaves the other side of the door.
KATE is left alone in the room.
KATE’s head won’t keep quiet.
KATE walks, with some purpose – towards her computer, she is going to write – she has to write, to get it down.
As she walks, her pyjamas come off and a smart outfit comes on.
The sound of her footsteps shifts from slippers on a bedroom floor to feet on gravel.
KELSO
A country cottage in Kelso, Scotland. It hasn’t changed in twenty years. Family photos, souvenirs, certificates are still about the place – but the house has been perfectly maintained. It is spotless, comfortable, homely. The house is some distance from the closest train station and there is nothing but fields in walking distance. It is mid-January, the weather is bitter – it snows – and snows.
Evening, pitch black outside – the snow has been falling hard for several hours.
Inside, soft lamplight, an open fire. Three champagne glasses are set out on a tray.
IKE arranges and rearranges a plate of canapés.
IKE moves several objects around on the coffee table – he stands back, looks – readjusts them for aesthetic ease, and moves away.
IKE pours himself a glass of champagne, knocks it back – dries the glass and places it back on the side.
IKE stands still. The silence of the house
is palpable. A long time passes.
A car can be heard coming down the drive – the headlights swing in through the windows.
IKE checks things once more and then waits – by the door.
We can hear the slamming of car doors – footsteps on gravel, on snow – the doorbell rings.
IKE stares at the door.
The front doorbell rings.
Pause.
The front doorbell rings.
IKE opens the front door to KATE and ALBIN. IKE is talking on the telephone. He apologises profusely in mime, rolls his eyes – suggests the person is yapping. He mimes a ‘Lovely to meet you – come in’ – to ALBIN, who nods.
KATE. Hi, Dad.
IKE. If they need me there then they should have rung earlier, I just can’t do it – I don’t care how urgent it is, Roy – I said that this weekend was out and I mean it – emergency or no emergency –
KATE. Hi.
KATE stares at IKE.
IKE. I’m sorry, Roy – I’m really going to have to go – I’m really going – my daughter’s here – with her boyfriend and I’m –
ALBIN. It’s fine.
IKE. Okay – okay – bye now.
IKE puts the phone back in the cradle.
KATE. Hi, Dad.
IKE. Hello, darling.
IKE goes to hug KATE. KATE steps away, taking her jacket off and avoiding the embrace.
It’s so wonderful to see you (Clears her fringe from her face.) You look – lovely.
KATE kisses her father on the cheek.
KATE. Nice to see you too.
IKE. And this must be –
ALBIN. Albin, it’s great to meet you. Really great – after all this time. We brought wine.
IKE. It’s a pleasure.
ALBIN shakes IKE’s hand robustly.
ALBIN pulls IKE in for a hug – IKE is slightly taken aback.
ALBIN. You have a lovely home. It’s so cosy.
IKE. Oh God, it’s filthy; tatty. I haven’t had a chance to /
KATE. / It looks lovely, Dad. Great, good.
ALBIN offers IKE a bottle of red wine.
IKE puts it down on the side – starts taking their coats and hanging them up.
IKE. Thank you. You must be freezing – let me take your coats – was the drive very long? Is it snowing? Isn’t it snowing? I heard on the news that there’s been more snow today than there’s ever been. Who would like a drink?
KATE. What?
IKE. Snow.
KATE. More than there’s ever been?
IKE. On the news.
KATE. What?
IKE. Who would like champagne? It’s pink.
ALBIN. Yes please. Champagne, Kate? We’ve got some – Kate, we brought some –
KATE. Oh – chocolates.
IKE. How sweet, you didn’t have to –
KATE. They’re gingers.
IKE. My favourite, you remembered my favourite.
KATE. You love gingers.
IKE. I love gingers.
KATE takes the champagne.
KATE. Thanks.
IKE. It’s just the cheap stuff.
KATE. It’s Moët.
IKE. It was on offer – ten for fifteen pounds.
ALBIN. Blimey – that is cheap.
IKE. Or for six or something. Come on – top you up, it’s all froth. Kate?
KATE. Thank you.
IKE. I’m afraid dinner is all a bit of a mess; I just threw something together with what we had in the fridge – all a bit last-minute. Have an olive.
ALBIN. You didn’t tell him we were coming?
KATE. We’ve had this arranged for two months.
IKE. Sit down – don’t stand – come on.
ALBIN. I’m sure it will be lovely – I’m starving so anything will /
KATE. / What are we having?
IKE. Partridge with braised cabbage and dauphinois potatoes. Albin, can I offer you a parmesan puff?
IKE holds the bowl up to ALBIN.
ALBIN. Uh – yes – thank you.
KATE. Who was on the phone?
IKE. Hm?
KATE. On the phone – when we came in – it sounded like there was some kind of emergency.
IKE. Come on, sit down – we’re standing around like we’re at a concert or something – Kate, will you put some music on, something soothing – choral – Handel’s in there, I think.
ALBIN. Poor guy.
IKE. What?
ALBIN. Stuck in the –
IKE. Aren’t you tall?
ALBIN. Yes.
IKE. Are your parents tall?
Tiny beat – KATE cuts in.
KATE. Who was on the phone?
IKE. The university.
KATE. What was the drama?
IKE. Drama? Albin is Scandinavian, isn’t it? Kate said you were /
ALBIN. / My father’s family were Danish.
IKE. Are you very calm and collected – very cool? Very chilled out?
ALBIN. Um – I try to be, but – I don’t know, am I calm and collected?
KATE. Pretty calm.
IKE. But you live in London – you’ve always lived in London?
ALBIN. Mostly, yeah.
IKE. Very cool – trendy – I’ve got friends in London. Can I get you any more?
ALBIN. I’m okay, thank you. I’m fine. It’s lovely.
KATE. It sounded like there was a drama –
IKE. Oh, they wanted me to go in and cover last-minute – look over some – it’s been a mess there for weeks, I’m exhausted – I’ve barely stopped, I can’t tell you how hard this term has been.
KATE. On a Friday night?
ALBIN. Kate – parmesan puff?
KATE. Thank you. On a Friday night?
IKE. Exhausting.
ALBIN. Kate?
KATE. It just seems unlikely.
IKE. I’ll get you a coaster.
ALBIN. The house is beautiful. I love these paintings, are they Scottish?
IKE. Polish. We bought them in Kraków – when we went to see the salt mines, from a stall, a little provincial stall; Kate – do you – do you remember?
KATE. No.
IKE. You don’t remember Kraków?
KATE. The pictures.
IKE. You don’t remember the salt mines?
KATE. Yes – I just don’t remember the pictures.
IKE. But they’re there – look at them.
KATE. I remember what they look like – now – yes, but I don’t remember buying them.
Beat.
IKE. It was lovely that holiday – we had such a lovely time, didn’t we have a lovely time? In the markets, all lamplit and that funny rustic restaurant – I bought a pair of earrings for your mother. I don’t think she ever wore them. I remember her describing them as tatty to a friend.
KATE. Did she?
IKE. She never wore them.
KATE. But I can’t imagine she –
IKE. On the phone – I heard her. It hurt.
KATE. Al – parmesan puff?
IKE. Don’t talk over me.
KATE. I wasn’t.
IKE. It hurt.
KATE. You said.
Beat.
ALBIN. This is delicious.
IKE. It’s just the cheap stuff. Kate?
KATE. Thank you.
IKE offers KATE cassis for her champagne.
IKE. Kir?
KATE. A little.
IKE. So – Albin – tell us, what is it you do? It’s something sciencey – isn’t it? It’s to do with – Kate – said, I’m sure.