NAN goes to protest further but holds her tongue when she sees the look on GLADYS’s face.
SCENE TEN: THE BANK VS MRS BANKS
The interior of a BANK MANAGER’s office.
GLADYS, who’s all dressed up, is sitting in the visitor’s seat while the BANK MANAGER sits behind his desk.
BANK MANAGER: And how can I be of service, Mrs…?
GLADYS: Banks. Mrs Len Banks.
BANK MANAGER: Mrs Banks. You’re inquiring about a loan, perhaps?
GLADYS: Oh, no. It’s about my youngest, Dolly.
GLADYS rummages in her bag.
BANK MANAGER: And she…?
GLADYS: Pardon?
She triumphantly produces a photo of DOLLY. The BANK MANAGER puts on his glasses and studies the photo.
BANK MANAGER: Yes. Very pretty face. [Beat.] But I’m still not sure why you’re here…
GLADYS: The teller’s position, of course.
BANK MANAGER: I don’t think so…
GLADYS: But she’s just completed her Leaving Certificate—the first in the family—with real good grades… ’N’ top of her class in algebra…
Her earnest dialogue is hardly heard as we hear DOLLY, who becomes visible behind the gauze, picking fruit in an orchard and singing the chorus of ‘Catch a Falling Star’.
On the BANK MANAGER’s desk is a tray with two china cups of tea, milk jug and sugar bowl. He pours a cup for himself, but doesn’t offer one to GLADYS. As the song ends, and the image behind the gauze fades, we return to GLADYS’s words.
… She’d be a fine asset. Here’s her school report—see, all As and Bs—and she won this for best and fairest for women’s basketball…
She hands over the report and a ribbon.
BANK MANAGER: Well, it’s all very impressive… What I’m wondering is how she’d fit in.
GLADYS: [steely] She’d fit in fine.
BANK MANAGER: In a job such as this, reliability is important… I wondering how would she get into town each day.
GLADYS: She has a bicycle. She’s on time for school. Look… [She pulls out of her bag a special certificate for punctuality.] For punctuality.
BANK MANAGER: Splendid. Now, rapport with our customers is important—sorry, rapport means—
GLADYS: [through gritted teeth] —getting along. Making people feel comfortable, like.
BANK MANAGER: Yes. [Beat.] Mrs Banks, are you a customer of this bank?
GLADYS: Well, no. [Confessing] I’ve never even been in one of these before.
BANK MANAGER: A bank manager’s office?
GLADYS: A bank!
BANK MANAGER: But everyone needs savings…
From his drawer, he produces a tin money bank and a passbook and hands them over to GLADYS.
You put your pennies in here, when they add up to a pound, you bring them in to us and we write the amount in your savings book.
It helps you to save for something special, and you know that your money is safe.
GLADYS: Just like jam tins.
BANK MANAGER: Just like jam tins.
GLADYS looks at the tin then, seeing the BANK MANAGER’s gesture, she gets out her purse. He indicates to her that payment is not needed and she puts the tin in her bag. They both smile weakly.
Well, if that’s all…
He stands up, as if their business has concluded.
DOLLY: [voice-over echo] Have you learnt not to be shamed by them? Eh?
GLADYS: No. The trainee position. For my Dolly.
BANK MANAGER: To be honest, Mrs Banks—
GLADYS: She’d be an asset. She’s a hard worker. She knows all about hard work. She’s honest. She’s polite. She deserves a break. One little break. Are you going to be the one to offer her that break, sir?
She stares him down. He taps his fingers together for what seems like an eternity.
BANK MANAGER: Why not? [Beat.] Please add her name and address to this list…
He hands her a clipboard. She takes it.
… and she’ll be notified of an interview time.
GLADYS shakes her head.
Oh! I beg your pardon.
He hands her his fountain pen. She holds it, uncertain, then hands it back. She collects her things as if to leave.
Mrs Banks? [Beat.] Oh, fountain pens are a little tricky, aren’t they?
He calmly begins to fill out the form and GLADYS sits back down.
Your daughter’s full name, Mrs Banks?
GLADYS: Dolores. Dolores Alice Banks.
The lights go down.
SCENE ELEVEN: THE BALL
The sound of big-band swing music is heard.
When the lights come up, DOLLY is swirling and floating around the dance floor in her full-skirted dress, with ERROL as her partner. She is wearing an orchid corsage.
DOLLY: They’re looking at us.
ERROL: That’s ’cause you’re the prettiest girl here.
DOLLY: I’m not sure…
ERROL: I am. You look a picture, Dolores. I said that.
DOLLY: You did.
ERROL: Well, you do. [Teasing her] And you haven’t stepped on my toes once.
DOLLY slaps him on the arm gently and he grabs the hand and squeezes it tight. The song ends but he’s still holding her hand tightly.
DOLLY: They are looking at us. Nancy Woolthorpe, and the others.
ERROL: She’s probably jealous. Not to be mean, but you look much nicer than she does.
DOLLY is nervously pleased with his boldness.
Now, I’ll get us a punch. Don’t you go anywhere, now.
She just giggles. ERROL exits to get the drinks.
The lights change for a dream sequence.
COMPERE: [voice-over on a squeaky microphone] And the winner of the Miss Mooroopna-Shepparton Ball is… Miss Dolores Banks.
A sash is hung over DOLLY’s shoulder. DOLLY is astounded—so excited.
The lights snap back to reality.
Repeating, our inaugural Miss Mooroopna-Shepparton is… Miss Nancy Woolthorpe. Could she step up, please…?
Clapping and cheering can be heard.
Isn’t she a picture? Put your hands together for Nancy! The prettiest little gal in town.
But before she accepts the sash, we hear NANCY WOOLTHORPE’s voice:
NANCY: [voice-over] Why, if it isn’t Miss Dolores Banks herself. Love your dress, Dolly. Love the fabric. [With a giggle] My mother quite liked it too. When it was our sunroom curtains. But, you know, I thought we took them to the tip.
DOLLY is frozen in shame.
DOLLY: [to herself] My ball gown? Courtesy of the town bloody tip?
COMPERE: [voice-over] And here she is! Our very own Miss Mooroopna-Shepparton!
DOLLY runs out, humiliated. The band sounds die away and night sounds take over. It is dark and a weak light shines on her from the hall. Her chest is heaving as she tries to hold in the tears. From the shadows comes a voice.
COUSIN: [offstage, slurring] Hey, Dolores, come over here.
DOLLY: Pardon? [She wipes away a tear and tries to compose herself.] I mean, what?
COUSIN: [offstage] Come over here, I said.
DOLLY: No.
COUSIN: [offstage] No? Think you’re too good for us.
DOLLY: No. I don’t—
COUSIN: [offstage] I think you do.
DOLLY: I don’t—
COUSIN: [offstage] I reckon you need to be taught a lesson—
DOLLY: No—
ERROL arrives looking flustered, holding two cups of fruit punch.
ERROL: Dolly? I’ve been looking all over for you. Can you believe it, that girl, in the horrible pink dress—?
COUSIN: [offstage] This your friend?
DOLLY: Please stop it, Leon—
COUSIN: [offstage] This who you step out with?
DOLLY: Leon—
ERROL: What’s going on? Dolly?
There is a scuffle in the dark.
DOLLY: Get your hands off me!
ERROL: Why, you
don’t treat a lady like that—
COUSIN: [offstage] She’s no lady, she’s just a little—
The big-band sound strikes up inside the hall. A drink goes flying, a punching sound, then another. ERROL staggers back into the weak light, holding his eye. DOLLY runs through the light, sobbing, her dress slightly ripped.
[Offstage, yelling] See you later then, Doll—
ERROL: Dolly? Dolly?
But she’s gone.
SCENE TWELVE: STORM BREWING
GLADYS is knitting up a storm while NAN crochets. GLADYS looks at her watch and smiles.
GLADYS: She’ll be having a lovely time.
But NAN has a sense of foreboding and GLADYS picks up on it.
What is it?
She doesn’t answer but goes outside with the kero lamp.
NAN DEAR: Dolly? Dolly?
But the only reply is the rising wind that makes the kero lamp flicker and blow out.
SCENE THIRTEEN: WATERS RISING
As the lights come up, DOLLY is sobbing down by the river. After a time she hears a noise and is startled. Again she hears a sound and raises her fists to defend herself.
ERROL: Whoa there, Dolly. It’s me.
DOLLY: I knew that’d happen.
ERROL: It wasn’t very nice—
DOLLY: Nice? You heard them. It’ll never change… some things never do.
ERROL: Don’t say that.
DOLLY: Especially around here.
ERROL: Please.
DOLLY: It’s true.
ERROL: Please, Dolly… Let’s just talk, can we? Please don’t run away…
If I have to try and follow you again, I’ll really get lost—you know about my lousy sense of direction.
He’s trying to jolly her. She can’t help but smile through the tears.
DOLLY: I sure do.
ERROL: Ouch.
His eye is hurting.
DOLLY: Let me look at that. You have… an ocular contusion.
ERROL: A what?
DOLLY: A black eye, buddy.
She leads him closer to the river. She reaches in and retrieves something from the river, which she places against his eye.
ERROL: What’s this? Some traditional Aboriginal method?
DOLLY: It’s Aeroplane jelly.
ERROL: Whatever happened to a good steak—?
DOLLY: It’s mutton flaps or this.
ERROL: And you keep it in the river?
DOLLY: You see any icebox up there?
ERROL: Oh.
DOLLY: Stay still!
ERROL: Yes, Nurse Dolly.
DOLLY: Nurse… Oh. The river’s rising.
ERROL: Is it? Oh… your dress!
He sees the rip in it.
DOLLY: [with a shrug] Who cares? It’s a stupid dress.
ERROL: It’s… it’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen. Though you could’ve worn a flour bag and you would’ve still been the prettiest girl in the room.
Beat.
DOLLY: Really?
ERROL: Really. You’re my Miss Mooroopna-Shepparton.
He moves in more intimately. Beat.
DOLLY: Really?
ERROL: Yes, really… Ouch. [His eye is hurting.] Say, where did you learn to hook like that?
DOLLY: Thirty big brothers. Well, three blood brothers and twenty-seven boy cousins. Who are like brothers.
ERROL: Twenty-seven cousins, whew…
DOLLY punches ERROL’s arm with one knuckle.
DOLLY: Yep. That’s only the boys.
ERROL: I’ve got three cousins that I only get to see once a year. Twenty-seven! Do you all get together at Christmas? I can’t imagine how many pressies you have under the tree.
DOLLY snorts.
DOLLY: What tree? [Pause. Wistfully] It would be nice… to have a tree, and presents. Nancy Woolthorpe has this great big fake tree… Last year they wrapped the presents in red paper and green paper.
ERROL: Sounds like my mum. She’s mad on all the trimmings. Glass baubles and fake snow…
DOLLY: I bet you have lots of presents, at your house?
ERROL: Piles! All wrapped up and tied with ribbons! With not a bow out of place. [Beat.] Bet you have more fun than we do, though. Your mum, your nan, your brothers, your cousins—
DOLLY: Aunties and uncles. And Papa Dear! We just have a singalong. We don’t go much for presents. Except for Papa Dear. He always brings me back something special. Something from one of his trips. You know the church sent him to Western Australia?
ERROL: All that way?
DOLLY: They ask for him everywhere…! I’m talking too much…
ERROL: No, you’re not… I like hearing about your life. Your family… it’s different from mine. My dad expects me to call him ‘sir’.
DOLLY: Gee.
ERROL: And my mum… well, she has these funny ideas sometimes… rather, my dad thinks they’re funny ideas. Take this—she wants to get a job. She says she’s at home, with nothing to do but bake and dust—
DOLLY: Sounds like Nancy Woolthorpe’s mum.
ERROL: —but he says she’s too delicate to work. Your mum chops wood! With an axe and all! And skins rabbits! It’s like your family’s from another country or something.
DOLLY: We are. [Beat.] I can look after myself, you know.
ERROL: I know that—now. And it seems you can look after me, too.
DOLLY giggles.
DOLLY: But it was sweet. To come to my rescue like that.
ERROL: He called you names! Awful names!
DOLLY: He called you a gin jockey!
ERROL: [indignant] I told him I never touch the stuff!
DOLLY giggles then stops. The jelly is falling apart a little and ERROL eats some off his fingers.
Port wine. Want some?
DOLLY starts to eat the jelly from his fingers.
DOLLY: Port…
ERROL: …wine.
They move closer, a kiss imminent. Celestial music is heard. But then she moves away.
What’s wrong, Dolly?
DOLLY: I can’t.
ERROL: Why?
DOLLY: Feel like getting coshed every time we step out together? Can’t walk down the street holding hands for being called names? And what would your dad say if you took me home to meet him?
ERROL is lost in thought. DOLLY moves further away from him, as if to leave.
ERROL: Dolly, I’ve got something to say. I want you to come away with me.
DOLLY: Away?
ERROL: Yes. To the city. We can get married. You could get a job. We can get a little flat. Wouldn’t you like that? A sweet little flat with a balcony and a sitting room and a kitchen with a real stove and a new-fangled Kelvinator and water on tap… That’d have to be better than the river…
DOLLY: I’d have to leave the river…
ERROL: We could be near the seaside. Brighton’s nice. It’s not far from my parents…
DOLLY: I’d have to leave my family…
ERROL: Well, we could catch the train up once or twice a year. Or they could come down to visit. Though we could only afford a small flat, on my wage, so they couldn’t stay over, but never mind.
DOLLY: You want me to leave here, for ever?
ERROL: I’m offering you a better life.
DOLLY: A better life?
ERROL: In the city there’s department stores so big you could spend all day in them. Why, in the city there’s even little restaurants you can eat spaghetti, just like in Italy.
DOLLY: Spaghetti?
ERROL: The point is, you could live in a real home, for the first time.
DOLLY: A real home?
ERROL: We could even save for wall-to-wall carpet… I want to spoil you. You deserve it. You deserve better.
DOLLY: Better?
ERROL: You’re repeating everything—
DOLLY: I don’t understand what you’re saying—
ERROL: I’m offering you a future… our future, together.
DOLLY: But… a real home? A real home is
where there are people looking out for each other. [Beat.] Do they do that in your home, in your family, Errol?
ERROL: Well…
DOLLY: [to herself] Don’t matter if the floors are dirt. Don’t matter one bit—
ERROL: [demanding] Hang on. Are you saying you’d rather live in a humpy by the river? When I’m promising you the world?
DOLLY: Your world. And you’re just assuming that your world is better. But actually, when I think about it—when I think about that nasty Nancy—she has everything that opens and shuts. I’m not so sure it is better. I wouldn’t trade places with her for anything. And as far as what you’re offering… no thank you. This is my place. I’m staying right here with my mum and my nan.
ERROL: But, Dolly—
DOLLY: No, Errol. Our life isn’t perfect, but like Nan says, it’s ours. And you don’t respect that. I’m sorry—
She goes to leave but he grabs her arm. She shakes him free.
Let go of me!
ERROL: I won’t!
DOLLY: You have no right—
ERROL: Please… Dolly. I promised I’d walk you home. At least let me do that.
DOLLY: No. And don’t follow me, this time. [Beat.] I can look after myself… remember?
Thunder, lightning. And she’s gone into the shadows leaving him, bewildered and alone. Utterly crushed, he exits in the opposite direction. From the direction in which she’s gone, we hear a sinister voice.
COUSIN: [offstage] Well, hello, Dolly… thought I’d catch up with you…
The lights go down, then half up.
SCENE FOURTEEN: THE FLOOD
Rain and thunder and lightning.
The humpy interior is pitch-dark apart from a flickering hurricane lamp way up high on the shelf. The two women are packing up their belongings.
NAN DEAR: Grab the flour, Glad, and the tea.
GLADYS: I have done this before, Mum. [To herself] Only about a thousand times.
They pack up and move things higher, calmly and deliberately.
Wonder if it’ll go as high as ’51.
NAN DEAR: Hope not. Got too much to do. Don’t want to wait three days for it to subside. [Beat.] Are you sure she’s…?
GLADYS: Safe? He has the utility… Unless the water’s already over the roads… I’m sure she’ll be fine… She’s sensible.
NAN DEAR: She’s with a boy. That’ll make her silly, not sensible.
GLADYS: [cranky] You want to have a go at me for letting her go with him, then come right out and say it. Don’t take it out on the girl.
Rainbow's End Page 5