F*ck the Polar Bears (NHB Modern Plays)

by Tanya Ronder

  Beat.

  We turned each other’s way on the big rotisserie of life and that’s very nice and everything but sometimes I wonder if we’re good for each other. You used to be more open. Seeing you yesterday with that champagne and those pizzas… it put me in mind of a slug trying to walk, thinking he has legs but he hasn’t.

  GORDON. I know I’m getting fat.

  SERENA. That’s not what I meant, who am I to talk?

  GORDON. You’re not fat.

  SERENA. But I starve myself half the day, gym it the other half, it’s so effortful. People think money is all it takes, but it’s both, effort and money.

  GORDON. You’re gorgeous…

  SERENA. Do you know when I’m at home on Tuesdays and Thursday, I hide in the bedroom when Michaela’s cleaning.

  Beat.

  Having Rache ripped through me and I’m still off kilter. I can’t even do Tree on my left leg. Madeline pointed it out today and she’s not the first to have said it.

  GORDON. These things will get better, Serena.

  SERENA. Always smoothing it over – I don’t want it smooth, I want it frank. I’m lonely. I don’t go out with my old friends any more, it’s awkward, I’m too rich, and since she left London I barely even speak to my sister, I had no idea how much I’d miss her, and there you are over there wanting another baby and here I am, terrified of it.

  GORDON. It’s normal that we’re springing a few leaks.

  SERENA. I feel I’m hammering at the door of a vacated room. At least I know I’m miserable but I think you’d actually rather die than face things. Honestly, if you could talk about things with me I would live in a tent with you.

  GORDON attends to something unnecessary, SERENA watches.

  This displacement activity is exactly what Madeline mentioned.

  GORDON. Is Madeline your new therapist?

  SERENA. You big infant.

  GORDON. It’s lucky I’m a confident man, Serena.

  SERENA. Just a normal fucking man, you never stoop to asking questions, only when you already know the answer.

  GORDON. I’m doing my level best here.

  SERENA. I know you work hard, I know, but you say everything’s fine when it’s not, it’s not, Gord, I don’t want another child with you!

  A small white animal scampers across the room. SERENA doesn’t see it, GORDON does. The animal has gone but SERENA sees some mess it left elsewhere.

  What’s that on the floor, is that – poo?

  GORDON. That wasn’t there earlier.

  SERENA. Have you had the door open? That can’t be a cat, can it?

  GORDON rushes to the computer.

  GORDON. The patio door won’t close, it’s stuck.

  SERENA. Stuck? What are you doing?

  GORDON. Looking up faeces…

  SERENA. What?

  GORDON. Fucking touchpad isn’t responding…

  SERENA. Speak to me, Gordon!

  Beat.

  Hello, husband not responding…

  Half beat.

  You admit there are cracks but you’re the fucking crack!

  GORDON. Okay, I know, there are some areas we need to look at, three areas, or four, let’s say five things we need to sort out – shitting computer!

  SERENA. Why do you have to take charge, Gordon, you’re turning in to a knob-head.

  He sees the hamster.

  GORDON. There she is!

  SERENA. What was it?

  GORDON. Shape-shifting little…

  SERENA. Where?

  GORDON. Yeah.

  SERENA. What are you talking about?

  GORDON. That… damn…

  SERENA. What?

  GORDON. Bear.

  SERENA. Which bear?

  GORDON. The bear. Fucking Phoebe.

  The front door closes. BLUNDHILDE comes in.

  BLUNDHILDE. Hi.

  SERENA. Hi, Blundhilde. Gordon just thought he saw an animal run across the hallway, so it’s probably best if you leave us to it.

  BLUNDHILDE. Was it white?

  GORDON. Yes, white!

  BLUNDHILDE. About this size?

  GORDON. Yes, yes.

  SERENA confronts BLUNDHILDE.

  SERENA. Are you telling me there’s something loose in this house?

  BLUNDHILDE. That’s not what I’m saying, no.

  (To GORDON.) Where did you think you saw it, as a matter of interest?

  GORDON. I don’t think I saw it, I saw it.

  SERENA. What in God’s name is going on?

  GORDON continues talking to BLUNDHILDE.

  GORDON. Just there. You’ve seen her?

  BLUNDHILDE. As I told Serena, I’ve not seen anything.

  SERENA. I’m completely lost.

  BLUNDHILDE. I’m going to find Clarence, is he upstairs?

  SERENA. Yeah.

  She goes quickly. SERENA watches GORDON.

  What are you looking for?

  GORDON. Polar bears are very, very clever. ‘The strength of twelve men and the wits of eleven’… You mustn’t underestimate them, we can’t afford to do that.

  SERENA. I don’t understand what you’re saying.

  BLUNDHILDE returns, nips across to the kitchen.

  BLUNDHILDE. Sorry, just need the dustpan and brush, the plant has tipped over, there’s earth all over the stairs…

  GORDON hurries to check the stairs.

  SERENA. Help yourself. There’s poo on the floor.

  BLUNDHILDE. Oh.

  SERENA struggles to understand events.

  SERENA. Something must have got through the patio door… Gordon seems to think it’s a polar bear, in miniature, if I understand him correctly…

  BLUNDHILDE. Would you like me to clear the mess up?

  SERENA. That’s very kind of you, Blundhilde, very sweet.

  BLUNDHILDE. I’ll just tidy the soil then I’ll come down.

  SERENA. Thanks.

  BLUNDHILDE goes off with the dustpan and brush, calling CLARENCE.

  BLUNDHILDE. Clarence?

  SERENA. Look at me, Gordon.

  GORDON. Don’t worry, I’m going to catch her and show you, you’ll see, you’ll see the evil.

  SERENA. Gordon. Gordon, will you look at me?

  GORDON. You said yourself, it’s not cat poo, Serena…

  SERENA. Maybe it was a mouse or a rat or something…?

  He carries on hunting the creature.

  You’re scaring me.

  CLARENCE comes running downstairs.

  CLARENCE. Everything okay?

  SERENA. Could you talk to your brother please, he’s having a weird turn, which seems to be more comfortable for him than talking to his wife.

  CLARENCE. Gordon?

  GORDON is absorbed.

  I’ve nearly finished the skirting, Gord. Would you like a cup of Horlicks? Remember how you used to like Horlicks.

  SERENA. We don’t have any Horlicks…

  CLARENCE. Or – (To SERENA.) what have you got?

  SERENA. Vanilla Chai Latte?

  GORDON. They look all fluffy and pure but have you seen a picture of someone mauled by one? They’re dangerous, dangerous animals.

  CLARENCE. Gordon, I have to tell you that that small animal you just saw – wasn’t a bear.

  GORDON. I know it didn’t look like a bear, twat, what do you think I am?

  CLARENCE. Mate, it’s late, you’re tired…

  GORDON. Next time she shows herself it’ll be in a different form.

  CLARENCE speaks to SERENA.

  CLARENCE. I think we need to find Phoebe as a matter of urgency.

  GORDON. Good plan, great plan, first one to find her, come and tell me this isn’t all her.

  SERENA starts searching.

  CLARENCE. Gordon…

  GORDON. You seen beneath their fur? Dark grey and patchy, like a saggy boar.

  SERENA. Clarence, the chai is in a pink pot on the shelf above the kettle.

  CLARENCE goes to the kitchen. SERENA tries to ta
ke GORDON in hand.

  Gordon, you actually have to stop this now, Gordon, stop.

  GORDON. They’re so cunning and vengeful.

  SERENA. You are really freaking me out.

  GORDON. Think of the things going wrong – that plant, my glass, the freezer, the water, my charger, the door handle, the patio door, the drains – nothing was blocking them – the dryer – it went off on its own when you were out! And where are my weekend trousers?

  SERENA. The dryer was probably on timer…

  GORDON. And then I felt it.

  SERENA. Felt what?

  GORDON. A paw. Touch the back of my neck.

  Beat.

  And now the goddamn document.

  SERENA is lost for words. BLUNDHILDE comes down with the full dustpan and brush.

  BLUNDHILDE. Has Clarence explained?

  GORDON returns to his search.

  GORDON. Come on, you little bastard.

  SERENA. Jesus…

  CLARENCE comes out of the kitchen with GORDON’s chai, he speaks to BLUNDHILDE.

  CLARENCE. I don’t know how he got out.

  BLUNDHILDE. You must have left the door loose.

  CLARENCE. I swear I didn’t.

  GORDON is on his hands and knees checking under the sofa.

  BLUNDHILDE. You have to tell them.

  SERENA. Tell us what?

  BLUNDHILDE. That’s not a bear he thinks he’s seen.

  SERENA. I know it’s not, what do you take me for?

  CLARENCE. I’ll explain, Blundhilde.

  GORDON. This is part of it, getting me on my knees where she wants me.

  Half beat.

  CLARENCE. I’m wondering if we should call someone.

  SERENA. It’s 1 a.m. Saturday night…

  CLARENCE. NHS Direct?

  BLUNDHILDE. We could call my mum?

  CLARENCE. Has he done this before?

  BLUNDHILDE. I mean she’s just a nurse, but…

  SERENA. Honestly, Blundhilde, feel free to go upstairs, Clarence and I can manage.

  BLUNDHILDE backs off, watches GORDON. SERENA speaks to CLARENCE.

  I’ve never seen him like this. I just came in quite heavy-handed…

  CLARENCE. I need to tell you about the bear. SERENA. What?

  CLARENCE. It’s a hamster.

  GORDON. It may look like a hamster, but it’s not. Did you paint that wall? Clarence, have you painted that wall?

  CLARENCE. No.

  GORDON. See that there?

  CLARENCE. Yeah…

  GORDON. Serena, Blundhilde?

  SERENA/BLUNDHILDE. Yeah.

  GORDON. Does that or does that not look like a bear to you?

  SERENA. Gordon…

  GORDON. Look!

  They all peer at the wall.

  See? There. Just there, look, the ears. That’s the shape of a bear. Who’s imagining things now. See it? There you go, exactly, now you’ve got it.

  End of Act.

  ACT THREE

  Scene One

  Sunday afternoon

  GORDON comes warily downstairs.

  CLARENCE. Afternoon.

  GORDON. Where’s Serena?

  CLARENCE. Getting Rache. She took Blundhilde to work the Sat Nav. Can I get you something?

  GORDON. Don’t treat me like an invalid.

  Beat.

  CLARENCE. Can you take any time off this week, for the house and stuff?

  GORDON. Your tone is fucking unbearable.

  Beat.

  A hamster was loose in my house and for a moment I mistook it for something, what’s so in-valid about that. I am dandy.

  CLARENCE. Of course you are.

  GORDON. And no I can’t take time off, I’m in Germany tomorrow, signing my new contract.

  CLARENCE. Well done on your promotion, mate, I’ve not said.

  GORDON. I earn my money, me.

  CLARENCE. Doesn’t come free for any of us, sadly.

  GORDON. I keep the lights on, you paint walls.

  CLARENCE. Don’t let’s argue. I just want to be sure the company’s not taking too much from you.

  GORDON. If you’re feeling sorry for me then you’ve got the wrong end of the fucking stick, I mean, who are you, Big Daddy Clarence?

  Half beat.

  Who pays for Mum, Clarence?

  CLARENCE. Who visits Mum, Gord?

  GORDON. Who has time to visit her? High achievers work and work and then we work some more.

  CLARENCE. The big corporations don’t always have their employees’ best interests at heart.

  GORDON. I bring hot water to babies, heat to old ladies and you waft your anti-corporate morals at me.

  CLARENCE. I’m not.

  GORDON. I manifest the world in people’s homes twenty-four seven, what do you do?

  CLARENCE. Work six days a week, long hours, skilled work.

  GORDON. Then lie back exhausted, let Irene clamber on top at the weekend.

  CLARENCE. Why do you mock me? Who’s on top in your marriage?

  GORDON. Are you judging me, arse-wipe? Put your ancient Irene next to my Serena.

  CLARENCE. There’d be no competition, Gord, looks-wise.

  GORDON. You’ve always wanted what I’ve got.

  CLARENCE. That’s not true.

  GORDON. Coveted my things.

  Beat.

  CLARENCE. I’ll admit, if you met her – Irene has scars, saggy breasts, greasy specs –

  GORDON. But to you she’s stunning.

  CLARENCE. She ribs me, we howl with laughter, she keeps me in recovery. If I hung out with Irene two nights a week for the rest of my days I’d die happy.

  GORDON. Is it only two you get?

  CLARENCE. She’s a busy woman, I’m proud to report. GORDON. Couldn’t afford not to be with a partner like you.

  CLARENCE. Can we stop this, can we?

  Beat.

  I want to say some things.

  GORDON. This your five minutes, is it?

  CLARENCE. I’ve not had the opportunity since, your kindness. GORDON. It was a necessity.

  CLARENCE. The kindest thing anyone’s ever done, paying for my treatment. And I’ve undergone changes. I know you don’t trust that yet and I understand, because I abused your trust.

  Half beat.

  The time I came to your house to look after Rachel and you found me taking heroin in the garden.

  GORDON. I don’t want to hear this.

  CLARENCE. And the time I used your telephone to complete my deals.

  GORDON. Come on.

  CLARENCE. And when I took and sold your video camera, when it had footage of Rachel on it and I didn’t know.

  GORDON heads to the kitchen.

  And I abused your trust by befriending Jane.

  GORDON stops.

  Nothing ever happened, I don’t blame you for thinking it did but it didn’t, I was her friend.

  GORDON. That helped her leave her husband.

  CLARENCE. Now I’d like to be your friend, if you’ll let me.

  GORDON. Then you turn up in my second marriage, wreak havoc, till I stop it, then you keep asking us to come and applaud your endeavours as if I had time to sit on plastic chairs and clap.

  Half beat.

  I earned my way since I was fifteen years old, worked right the way through A levels and uni, while you left and spliffed your way round Europe.

  CLARENCE. I don’t know how to make it better. Make amends to the brother I admired more than anyone else throughout my childhood. You were everything to me.

  Beat.

  I’m sorry for being a shit brother.

  There is a softening in the air between them. A car pulls up on gravel.

  GORDON. See this.

  GORDON holds a piece of paper up for CLARENCE to read. It says, ‘I MISS YOU RACHEL!’

  Who wrote that?

  CLARENCE. Um, didn’t Blundhilde Skype Rache yesterday? She was writing stuff from Phoebe…

  GORDON. I know you didn’t let the
hamster out. It was Phoebe manipulating things to make me look cuckoo. No one else sees, but she leaves clues all the time. I went to the toilet, not something you or anyone else would notice, but since yesterday, she’s meddled with it.

  CLARENCE. Gord…

  GORDON. It’s flushing differently. So whatever you think, company this, company that, I know what is in fact happening.

  CLARENCE. There’s a concrete explanation for the toilet sounding different.

  GORDON. You wish.

  CLARENCE. No, there is.

  GORDON. I’m not interested in your theories.

  CLARENCE. You actually have to listen to me, what happened yesterday can’t happen again, you know, you’re a dad. What if Rache were here when you went into that sketch?

  GORDON. You can’t see it, Clarence.

  CLARENCE. Do me a favour, one favour, come upstairs with me and let me show you the toilet. Gord, please, we put some things in the cistern yesterday, Blundhilde and I.

  GORDON. Yeah, piss, was it?

  CLARENCE. No, no, we put –

  GORDON (cuts him off). I’m on the level with you and this is what happens.

  CLARENCE. Jesus, wait there, stay there, I’m going to go and get the packs, show you.

  CLARENCE runs upstairs.

  GORDON gets a secret stash of cigarettes out, readies one. He scrutinises the writing on the paper. He gets a Blundhilde note from the fridge, compares the handwriting. It’s inconclusive, the lettering is in capitals. He’s on his way to smoke outside. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a white figure run into the playroom. GORDON turns. He stalks to the door, pulls it closed and draws the lock.

  GORDON. Now I’ve got you, you little bitch!

  He pulls a chair up against the handle.

  And I’m not letting you go. You’re here till my wife gets home so I can show her who you are, furry fucking demon. Messing with my head. You’re severed from my daughter. Before she ever sets eyes on you again, I’m ripping you up, pinning you down, shaving you bald, then I’m going to get a knife…

  He goes to the kitchen, gets a knife.

  I’m going to get a knife so I can cut your stupid fucking eyes out, plunge my knife inside your brains and cut them off from their stems, roll your sightless dismembered head in shit, foul it with excrement then stuff it down your neck, ex-ex-bear. Give me my fucking document, you cut-wit fuck-shit cunt ’stinct fucker. You’re not taking her with you, you’re not taking her with you, you’re going alone and you’re never coming back, wreurrrrghhhhhhhhhhhh!