The lights go down.
SCENE FIVE: PAY THE RENT
Time passes.
The song ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ plays.
As the lights come up, it is early morning, but already blindingly hot. NAN is cooking outside, just like she used to.
DOLLY: [offstage] Morning, Nan.
NAN DEAR: One egg or two, Dolly love?
DOLLY: [offstage] How’d you know I felt like eggs? Three.
NAN DEAR: A serve of eggs is just what you need—
The RENT COLLECTOR is standing there.
Mr Coody.
RENT COLLECTOR: Mrs Dear.
DOLLY: [offstage] Gawd, Nan, it’s only just past seven and already it’s stinking hot. Tonight I’ll have to sleep on the roof like the others. Imagine me clambering up there—
She walks in, heavily pregnant, and stops dead when she sees the RENT COLLECTOR who looks with disdain at her body.
RENT COLLECTOR: Your arrangements will need to be re-evaluated, with the impending new arrival. I’m not sure that the house is suitable for an extended family—
NAN DEAR: That’s not of your concern.
She gets the eggs out of the basket.
RENT COLLECTOR: It is very much of my concern. Everything to do with the habitation of this establishment is my concern.
NAN DEAR: This is Aboriginal Housing… [under her breath] not your own private kingdom.
DOLLY makes a sharp moan.
Go in, Doll.
NAN passes over the rent book and the payment.
Here’s the rent. Please leave.
RENT COLLECTOR: And the person I saw just leaving?
NAN DEAR: The midwife.
RENT COLLECTOR: I should think the hospital is a more suitable place—
NAN DEAR: [to herself] And hospitals is where they take our babies away.
RENT COLLECTOR: You realise it is outside visiting hours? Given your obvious flouting of the rules, I think—
NAN DEAR: I don’t care what you think! You and your visiting hours. Your rules. No singalongs after dark. Your spying. You, mister, can go to blazes! I’ll give you ‘one’…
She raises an egg as he turns.
Two… Oh hell, three.
He runs. NAN chucks the eggs, one after the other, at his departing form.
DOLLY: Nan! What would Papa Dear say?!
NAN DEAR: Well, Papa Dear is not here to hear, is he?
DOLLY gives NAN a hug.
And sorry, love, just run out of eggs.
DOLLY: Not sure I felt like ’em anyway.
DOLLY looks vulnerable, sad. NAN looks away to hide her upset. She notices DOLLY’s school assignment, the family tree, pinned up on the wall above them. DOLLY follows NAN’s glance.
I never did get to finish that. Now there’ll be a new name to add to it. I was thinking Reg, or if it’s a girl… Regina. What do you think?
NAN DEAR: After Papa Dear? He’ll be thrilled.
DOLLY: Nan, there’s something I need to tell you… about that night—
NAN DEAR: Hush…
Beat.
DOLLY: But I’m worried—that I won’t love it. Because of—
NAN DEAR: No matter how they come into the world, you still love ’em the same.
DOLLY: Even if—
NAN DEAR: Even if.
DOLLY: Nan. About that night, at the cork trees—
NAN DEAR: You don’t need to say a thing. I was your age once, too. And I even became a mother too, when I was your age. Now that you’re a woman, I can tell you.
DOLLY smiles—she’s finally a woman in NAN’s eyes. But her smile is tinged with sadness.
There was this lad—my father had given him some work splitting posts—work was scarce. So on this particular day, it was the day the Great War had been declared, and he was full of fightin’ spirit—and the other kind, that comes in a flagon—this lad, I knew him, and I, well, I liked him, and I thought… At seventeen you have these silly dreams, even if he was a whitefella—
DOLLY: What? A whitefella?
NAN DEAR: Yes. [Beat.] What I’m trying to say is… that I married Papa Dear after I was pregnant with Gladys.
DOLLY: [not comprehending] That’s all right, Nan—you were just married in the bush way. Even if Papa Dear was a preacher.
NAN DEAR: No, Dolly—See, I was walking home, taking a short cut, and—and—and the lad—he took advantage of me…
DOLLY: What are you saying, Nan? Oh, Nan. Oh, Nan… not you…
NAN: Yes.
DOLLY: Not you, too, Nan.
NAN nods and they hold each other.
NAN DEAR: And that’s why I didn’t want you to have anything to do with—
DOLLY: A white boy?
NAN DEAR: Yes.
DOLLY: But it wasn’t a… [white boy]
NAN DEAR: I realise that… now.
DOLLY: And Errol would never do anything like that.
NAN DEAR: You were so angry with him.
DOLLY: He wanted to take me away. He didn’t understand that I could never leave you. He thought he was some kind of knight in shining armour. And he wasn’t.
Beat.
NAN DEAR: Sometimes, you have to move on. Leave things behind… Even things you love.
Beat.
DOLLY: [softly] He said he wanted to marry me.
NAN DEAR: You can’t marry him.
DOLLY: I hardly think he’d marry me now—
NAN DEAR: Because the lad, on the day war was declared, his name was—
DOLLY: What does that matter now? That was then—
NAN DEAR: —his name was Clem Fisher.
DOLLY: Fisher?
NAN DEAR: Yes.
DOLLY: And Errol’s a Fisher.
NAN DEAR: Yes.
DOLLY: And they could be… related? Ah… I see.
Now it’s NAN’s turn to be anxious.
NAN DEAR: I know you like that boy—
DOLLY: Oh, no, Nan. I mean, yes. But, no.
DOLLY shakes her head. She knows it’s impossible.
NAN DEAR: More than like him? Maybe you even love him? Do you?
DOLLY: Nan, I’ll respect you. I will. I promise.
NAN DEAR: I’m sorry.
DOLLY: Finito. That’s it then. Que sera, sera. [Beat.] Please don’t tell Mum about the cork trees.
NAN DEAR: She has her suspicions.
DOLLY: Please.
NAN nods.
NAN DEAR. And you won’t…?
DOLLY: Tell Mum? About Papa Dear? No.
NAN DEAR: Us Dears and our secrets, eh?
DOLLY: Yes. [Beat.] Where is Mum?
NAN DEAR: Extra shift.
DOLLY: What’s she saving for this time?
NAN DEAR: A lemon layette from Trevaks.
DOLLY: But she could knit one.
NAN DEAR: You know Gladys, nothing like a bought one.
They laugh. DOLLY strokes her tummy.
DOLLY: Perhaps you’re right, Nan… I feel I could love it…
NAN DEAR: Don’t you know by now that I’m right about everything!
They both laugh.
Everything’ll be fine. You’ll see.
DOLLY: Yes, Nan. Yes, Nan.
DOLLY leans against NAN and closes her eyes.
The lights go down.
SCENE SIX: ERROL SPILLS THE BEANS
The lights come up on GLADYS and ERROL, sitting on a park bench, with the Inspector’s report.
GLADYS: Anyway, I tried to say my bit at the Council meeting—
ERROL: That must have been something!
GLADYS: Well… it achieved nothing… Now everyone is cranky with me… The families for drawing attention to us… people in the street… even Papa Dear had heard about my ‘radio moment’.
She sighs. Beat.
ERROL: Oh! Mrs Banks, if you’re interested, we have a bonus volume—
He passes her an encyclopedia.
GLADYS: No, Errol. Thank you, but no.
He puts the book away.
ERROL: That’s okay, Mrs Banks.
GLADYS: Aunty… Anyway, I sure appreciate you taking the time, Errol.
ERROL: Don’t mention it, Mrs—Aunty. You sure you wouldn’t like to try something…?
GLADYS: Easier? No. We’ll continue with this. I’m interested to hear what he has to say about us… [Reading, hesitatingly] ‘During September I visited with thirty families who were in permanent res…’
ERROL: Residence.
GLADYS: ‘… residence, some at the site of the town tip, known as Daish’s Paddock, but most on the banks of the Gool…’
ERROL: Goulburn.
GLADYS: Of course. ‘Goulburn River. The san—it—ta—sanitation arrangements were as follows…’ [She shakes her head and closes the report.] I’ll continue with that later.
ERROL: You’re coming along nicely.
GLADYS: I get nervous in front of people. [Beat.] Speaking of people… how is your family?
His face clouds over.
ERROL: My family? Same as always, I guess. And yours?
GLADYS: Nan Dear, she has these little turns sometimes. Doesn’t like the new housing one bit. Can’t say I blame her. Won’t go to the doctor, of course. My father, Reginald Dear, is still preaching. I don’t know where he gets the strength.
ERROL: I’d like to meet him one day.
GLADYS: You would?
ERROL: Yes. One day. [Pause.] And how is…?
GLADYS: Dolly?
He nods.
She’s…
ERROL: She’s…?
GLADYS: Errol, straight up, what are your feelings towards the girl?
ERROL: Well, I think she’s real—
GLADYS: Pretty?
ERROL: Very pretty—she’s a living doll—but she’s also—
GLADYS: Clever.
ERROL: Clever? She’s sharp as a tack. And she’s—
GLADYS: Kind.
ERROL: Kind as, but in a way that’s very—
GLADYS: Modest.
ERROL: Yes, modest. She doesn’t have tickets on herself. I like that about her. And I really like that fact that Dolly is—
GLADYS: Straightforward. Tells you what she wants.
Beat.
ERROL: No. She’s not. I’m never sure what she wants.
GLADYS: But that can’t be! She’s always blurting out things, she can’t help it. She’s a Dear, and us Dears are well known for being straight talkers. I always talk plain—and her grandfather, Papa Dear—why, not a more straight-talking man ever walked God’s earth than my dear dad.
ERROL: Your ‘dear’ dad.
GLADYS: He is a dear—not just because he’s my dad, but because of all the things he does to help our people. [Beat.] There is a public meeting, in Melbourne next week. He’s raising the housing issue once again. Would you like to come along? And meet him?
ERROL: I’d like that.
GLADYS: Of course Dolly’ll be there. Maybe you can talk. You know what I mean—far be it from me to put words in your mouth! And, Errol…?
ERROL: Yes, Gladys?
GLADYS: Whatever she thinks, I think you’re beaut.
ERROL: I think you’re beaut, too.
He goes to shake hands with her, but she pulls him into a hug.
GLADYS: Thanks for spelling out your feelings towards the girl.
ERROL: That’s okay. I even like her snotty googles. She’s—
GLADYS: Special. She is. I couldn’t have put it better myself!
The lights go down.
SCENE SEVEN: THE PETITION
The lights come up on the interior of a draughty hall with the impression of rows of seats. The three women, in their Sunday best, are sitting facing the audience on a row of seats.
A finger tapping on a microphone can be heard over a loudspeaker accompanied by the squeal of feedback.
MAN ON MICROPHONE: [voice-over] Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests…
GLADYS: This is a big moment for Aboriginal people.
MAN ON MICROPHONE: [voice-over, microphone] This is a big moment for Aboriginal people…
The women laugh.
DOLLY: [whispering] You should be up there making the speech, Mum.
NAN DEAR: Gawd no, that’s men’s business.
DOLLY: Not always, Nan. What’s women’s business, anyway?
NAN DEAR: Family business, that’s what.
DOLLY: [whispering] Keeping the secrets, you mean. [To GLADYS] I’m sorry, Mum, about the bank interview.
GLADYS: [whispering] Well, why didn’t you tell me about the nursing? My girl, a nurse! On a scholarship and all!
DOLLY: There was nothing in writing. I couldn’t.
GLADYS: Keeping secrets from your own mother! Fancy—you going all the way to Melbourne. You sure that’s what you want?
DOLLY: I’m sure, Mum. And with Nan’s help with Regina…
They both look at the pram and smile. ERROL walks in and makes his way over to GLADYS who hasn’t seen him yet.
NAN DEAR: [pushing her lips in ERROL’s direction] What’s he doing here?
GLADYS: I invited him.
GLADYS welcomes ERROL. He sits down between her and DOLLY and peeks in the pram.
ERROL: Hello, Dolly.
DOLLY looks down. GLADYS jumps into action.
GLADYS: Come on, Mum, let’s keep an eye out for Papa Dear.
NAN DEAR: But…
GLADYS: Mum… Papa Dear’ll want to see you…
She practically drags a reluctant NAN away, leaving DOLLY and ERROL alone.
ERROL: Your cousin’s baby?
DOLLY isn’t sure how to answer.
’Course not. That was a little boy.
DOLLY arranges the blankets in the pram tenderly. ERROL looks searchingly at DOLLY.
She’s not…
DOLLY: [nodding] She is.
ERROL: Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?
DOLLY: It’s not your business.
ERROL: [stiffly] You’re married then. Congratulations.
DOLLY: No need.
He looks at her hand. No ring. He thinks hard.
ERROL: Nine, ten months ago. That would’ve been around—
DOLLY: Please—
ERROL: The flood. That’s why—
DOLLY: Please.
ERROL: I’m so slow on the uptake. Damn. I’m an idiot. Damn. [Beat.] Are you okay?
DOLLY: Yes. I’m okay.
ERROL: Are you sure? Is there anything I can do? Of course not—you can look after yourself.
DOLLY: Most of the time.
ERROL: Dolly, I’m sorry. For everything.
DOLLY: Yes. Me too.
MAN ON MICROPHONE: [voice-over] We’re just waiting on Papa Dear to present this here petition to you all.
VOICE FROM THE CROWD: [offstage] Been waiting years!
Laughter from offstage.
ERROL: I had hoped we could talk. About the future.
DOLLY: The future’s different now.
ERROL: Yes, it is… I’ve changed, Dolly. I realise I was wrong. For example, I will come up here, if you want. Because, where you belong, and your family, is important. To you, and to me.
DOLLY: I’m going to Melbourne. To nurse.
ERROL: You are? That’s… great. Good on you. Nurse Dolly… [Beat.] Dolly…
DOLLY: Yes?
ERROL: Do you know what’s in my heart?
DOLLY: Yes.
He searches her face but she is looking in the direction of NAN who is returning in a purposeful manner, GLADYS making up the rear.
I’m sorry… as much as I… I just can’t… I can’t explain… but I can’t do… this.
She means her and him.
ERROL: Are you sure? Really sure?
She nods.
Then I’ll respect your decision…
But the longing between them is palpable. He turns away from them.
And I wish you all the happiness in the world. You, and your lovely little daughter. And I hope we can at least be friends.
DOLLY: I’d… like that.
ERROL turns away from her, to hide his emotions. NAN, now beside DOLLY, suddenly looks faint.
NAN DEAR: Oh… I think it’s too much for me.
She means Papa Dear’s occasion. She sits down with a thud.
A glass of lemonade.
GLADYS: Quick, Dolly, go.
DOLLY jumps up to do as she’s asked.
NAN DEAR: No, I need her.
GLADYS: Okay, Mum.
She hurries away. NAN gestures for DOLLY to come closer. In the background we hear the assembly singing ‘The Old Rugged Cross’ very faintly. DOLLY looks at NAN expectantly, but NAN is unusually nervous.
NAN DEAR: I need a powder.
DOLLY: [sternly] You’re not pulling tricks on me?
NAN DEAR: No.
Realising it’s serious, DOLLY goes to leave, but NAN grabs her arm.
Dolly—that lad.
DOLLY: I told him, Nan. I told him we can never be together. [Beat.] I’ll go get the Bex… Will you be okay here with Errol, Nan, ’til I get back?
NAN DEAR: ’Spose. No way I’m going to fall off my perch in his company.
DOLLY steps away. ERROL steps up to NAN.
ERROL: If you want, Mrs Dear, I could drive you to the hospital.
NAN DEAR: No hospitals. That’s where you go to die.
ERROL: Perhaps you’d like to go home? The company utility’s outside.
NAN DEAR: You’d do that? Drive an old woman home? To Mooroopna?
ERROL: Of course. Even to the river. The Murray—that’s your place, isn’t it?
NAN DEAR: [staring at him] Brought up to respect your elders, eh?
ERROL: Yes—just like Dolly.
NAN’s moved, but tries to hide it with gruffness.
NAN DEAR: Fisher? What kind of fool name is that for someone who couldn’t even gut a fish?
ERROL: I’ve never even caught a fish.
NAN DEAR: Thought not, your hands are too soft. What kind of man has soft hands?
DOLLY returns with a packet of Bex and a glass of water, but hangs back, curious. It’s the first time she’s seen NAN speak directly to ERROL.
ERROL: Actually, ma’am, my dad changed our surname after the war. After they emigrated here. It was originally Vischer. But we
Germans weren’t the most popular. People used to throw stones at our house.
NAN DEAR: Oh? They did? [She almost seems happy to hear this. It dawns on her.] So you’re a fake Fisher?
ERROL: ’Fraid so.
NAN DEAR: Not even a real one?
ERROL: ’Fraid not.
Rainbow's End Page 7