The Last Days of Chez Nous & Two Friends

by Helen Garner

  LITTLE HELEN: What can this chirpy little thing do?

  KELLY: Haven’t you been to sleep yet?

  LITTLE HELEN: I was thinking.

  KELLY: What about?

  LITTLE HELEN: I was thinking about cut-outs and plasticine.

  KELLY: You’ll be tired in the morning.

  Pause.

  Little Helen gets on Kelly’s lap and settles there.

  LITTLE HELEN: Hey, Kelly. Do you like making things?

  KELLY (dully): No. Not much. I used to.

  LITTLE HELEN: I love making things. And sometimes I stay awake all night thinking about the things I’m going to make.

  KELLY: You probably don’t stay awake the whole night.

  LITTLE HELEN: Yes I do.

  KELLY: Till breakfast time?

  LITTLE HELEN: Yep.

  KELLY: I bet you drop off round three a.m.

  LITTLE HELEN: No. I bet you I don’t.

  Their attention returns to the screen. Kelly is dull with unhappiness. Helen sits contentedly on her lap. She puts one palm against Kelly’s cheek. Her eyes are glazed.

  Next afternoon.

  Louise and Jenny are walking along in the supermarket, trundling the trolley. Louise is telling a story, with gusto, and mimicry.

  LOUISE: And then the bedroom door bursts open and out comes Malcolm in his underpants, chuckin’ a mental yelling ‘What is it? A DOG? A DOG?’

  Jenny laughs. They enter the delicatessen.

  JENNY (with list): And now I need two rabbits and some mustard for the sauce.

  LOUISE: Rabbits? I hate rabbit. I refuse to eat it.

  JENNY: It’s exactly like chicken. Anyway you’re not invited. It’s adults only.

  LOUISE: Thanks a lot! What am I supposed to do? Thrown out of my own house, where I live! Just so you can entertain your daggy boyfriend.

  JENNY (refusing to bite): Go and see your boyfriend. Go and watch TV at their place.

  LOUISE: Matthew is not my boyfriend.

  JENNY: Oh go on, Louise. Be a sport. Go over to Kelly’s.

  LOUISE: Can’t. Don’t want to.

  JENNY: Aren’t you two friends any more?

  LOUISE: Yeah, but…it’s not the same.

  Jenny is concentrating on the rabbits under the glass and is not really paying attention. Louise has her back turned so as not to see the little corpses.

  LOUISE: Anyway. I hate dinner parties. You drink too much wine and your nose goes red and you rave on.

  Jenny looks up, stung. Louise is half-smiling; she is trying Jenny out, just a little flick of power to see if it works. It does, but Jenny tries to look unaffected.

  LOUISE: And the way you go on about Philip. It’s worse than a True Romance comic.

  Louise turns away again and folds her arms. Jenny looks at her, then at the blood-stained woman who is selling the rabbits. The woman has witnessed the exchange and gives Jenny a sympathetic grimace; she makes a strangling gesture with her two hands. Jenny tries to smile.

  JENNY: I’ll have two of the small ones, thanks.

  The woman obliges. Jenny pays. Louise stands with folded arms and face turned away, waiting. Jenny puts the parcel in the trolley and walks off. Louise follows.

  That evening, Jenny is having some friends to dinner: Philip, Alison and Stephen. Music plays softly. A pleasant scene: they are having a nice time, quietly.

  Jenny takes the lid off the pan that contains the main course.

  JENNY: Anybody here take a moral position on rabbit?

  STEPHEN: Not me. I love it.

  The phone rings out in the hallway. Jenny looks up.

  JENNY: Damn.

  She hands the serving spoon to Philip.

  JENNY: Won’t be a minute.

  She goes to answer, leaving the door ajar behind her. The others go on with the meal.

  JENNY: Hullo? Oh, hullo, Kelly. No, she’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message? She went over to Matthew’s for tea. Will I get her to call you when she gets home?

  She is silent, listening. From her face we see that Kelly is launching into a monologue. Jenny glances back into the living room. The others are talking and eating merrily without her. She abandons hope of a quick escape, and sits down.

  JENNY: Where are you ringing from?

  We see Kelly in the living room of her father, Charlie’s flat. It has grey brick walls: the kind of flat that a man might rent who only comes home to sleep; but he’s equipped it with what he thinks is needed, with no sense of the place being the product of gradual, organic growth—rather as if somewhere there existed a list of objects that add up to a house, and he’s followed it to the letter. Good quality, new, modern-looking furniture. A bareness between things. The kitchen utensils probably still have supermarket price stickers on them. Rather desolate: not a home.

  Kelly is on the phone. A door behind her gives onto a balcony which is stuffed with cardboard cartons. We can see two men out there—or parts of them, trousered legs, a back in an expensive shirt—and hear voices and laughter.

  KELLY: I’m at my Dad’s. No—he’s here. He’s out on the balcony with the other guy who’s staying here. Can you hear them?

  Kelly holds out the receiver towards the open door, then puts it back to her ear.

  KELLY: They’re having a drink. Hear that tooting? Everytime a car goes past they wave and whistle, and see if they can make them toot. (She giggles.)

  I might be coming to live here, actually…

  No, not all that much. He eats out a lot. Yesterday he went to the supermarket, and do you know what he came home with? A jar of vegemite and some toilet paper. I know!…Hopeless. They’re so stubborn…

  She laughs, woman to woman, indulging the foolishness and impracticality of men.

  KELLY: Guess what—I’ve started singing lessons…

  She’s a bit of a dag…

  Oh, you know—dried flowers in the hair, that style of thing…I’m supposed to do scales every day. It’s all right, I s’pose…

  Jenny hangs onto the phone, while the dinner continues without her.

  JENNY: Listen, Kelly—I’ve got some people here, I’ll have to go. Do you want to come over? You could wait here for Louise.

  At her end, Kelly considers Jenny’s offer.

  Charlie sticks his head round the balcony door and waves to her. She smiles and waves back, while still talking.

  KELLY: No thanks, Jenny—I’ll be okay here. I’ve got a video to watch. Hostesses on Heat. No—I was only fooling. Give my love to Louise. I think she’s got the shits with me a bit at the moment.

  CHARLIE: Get off the phone, will you, Kell? I’m expecting a call.

  Jenny, winding up now, stands as she speaks into the receiver.

  JENNY: Well, if you ever need a place to stay, Kelly…Don’t you sit up too late, will you. Goodnight, love.

  She hangs up and goes back towards the dinner table.

  ALISON: Who was it?

  JENNY: Kelly.

  ALISON: Is Kelly all right?

  Jenny shrugs as if to say ‘I don’t know’. She looks at Philip. The two men are eating with gusto.

  STEPHEN: Great tucker, Jenny.

  Jenny picks up the bottle of wine and refills the glasses.

  At Charlie’s flat, the balcony door is now closed. Kelly, Charlie and Kevin are watching a video. Kelly has a glass too: they are drinking wine.

  The phone rings.

  Charlie, who is nearest, answers it.

  CHARLIE (very softly): Hullo? Oh—hi!

  From his tone and expression we see that it is a woman he is interested in.

  CHARLIE: Where are you? Look, I’d love to—I really would—but my daughter’s here. She’s staying the night.

  He is being persuaded; he puts up feeble resistance.

  CHARLIE: No. Kev’s here…What about tomorrow night? Won’t that do?

  He laughs: she is flirting with him.

  CHARLIE: Okay. All right. I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes.

&n
bsp; Kelly glances up at this: she is surprised and hurt, but quickly hides her reaction. He does not notice.

  CHARLIE: Listen, Kelly—I’ve got to pop out for a while—you don’t mind, do you? Kev’ll be here, won’t you, Kev?

  Kev nods.

  KELLY (blankly): All right then.

  Charlie has expected resistance; her passive acceptance throws him somewhat. He hesitates, then disappears into the bathroom; we hear the shaver.

  Kelly and Kevin are careful not to look at each other.

  Charlie reappears in a clean shirt.

  KELLY (with peculiar blank politeness, almost like a lesson learnt): That’s a nice shirt.

  Charlie glances helplessly down at himself. He bends over and kisses her on the cheek.

  CHARLIE: See you in the morning, sweetheart.

  KELLY (eyes on the screen, blankly): Okay. Goodnight.

  CHARLIE: See you, Kev.

  KEVIN: Righto, mate. ’Night.

  Charlie goes out the door. The video finishes. There is a blank screen, and a blank moment between Kelly and Kevin. Kevin has witnessed her slight at the hands of her father. She has been humiliated by Charlie’s lack of care for her. Kevin would like to be kind to her but does not quite know how. She is lonely and neglected; she is also at that unsettling stage between childhood and adult sexuality.

  KEVIN: How about a game of poker.

  KELLY: I don’t know the rules. I’m not much good at cards.

  KEVIN: I could teach you.

  Kelly has a sudden idea. She sits up.

  KELLY: I know. We could play Poleconomy.

  KEVIN: Poleconomy? What’s that?

  Kelly bounces to her school bag and gets out a large flat box. She sets up the boardgame on the table. Kevin is dismayed but hides it out of politeness: he thinks he is in for some childish boredom. Kelly sets up the board. Her mood has changed. She begins to explain the rules to him. Seeing the rules are those of business practice, he knows them already from practical experience. He decides to relax into it, and sits back with a smile to witness her performance. She goes on and on, her voice becomes more confident as she goes. Kevin takes up his money and gets ready to play. There is something touching about her long and detailed explanation: he is getting interested in her. She notices this, and begins quite subtly to play up to him.

  She is sexually vulnerable, but she is not completely innocent. It comforts her ego, it excites and flatters her to be the object of his attention. Kevin’s expression is at the same time tender, amused and knowing. They communicate in looks and angles of body language and smiles and pauses.

  After midnight, the same night. The living room of Charlie’s flat is in darkness. Kelly is asleep on the couch. She wakes up. Someone has put a blanket over her. She is fully dressed. She gets up and walks along the hall to the lavatory.

  Meanwhile, in Kevin’s bedroom, he is only half-asleep. He sits up. We hear the toilet being flushed. Light goes off. We hear Kelly feeling her way back down the passage.

  KEVIN: That you, Charlie?

  Kelly appears in doorway.

  KELLY: No. It’s me.

  KEVIN: Is he back yet?

  KELLY: No.

  Silence. She stands there.

  KEVIN: Are you all right?

  KELLY: Yes. I’m all right.

  Pause.

  KEVIN: Do you want to come in here for a minute?

  Pause.

  Kelly sighs.

  KEVIN: What’s wrong?

  KELLY: Nothing.

  KEVIN: Come in here.

  Kelly walks slowly in and sits on the edge of the bed.

  Silence.

  Kevin moves over and lifts up the bedclothes. He’s got on a T-shirt and underpants. She gets in. He puts his arms around her. She submits. He behaves quite gently towards her: as a comforter. Then he kisses her on the mouth.

  Kevin may be an opportunist but he is not a rapist. However, his behaviour towards her is deeply ambiguous. He is in loco parentis. He is breaking a taboo.

  Kelly goes along with it for a few minutes. She seems to be enjoying it, but then things get a bit hot for her. She feels him change gear and start to mean business.

  In a sudden burst of panic or revulsion Kelly pushes him away. She struggles out into the lounge and turns on the overhead light. The blaze of harsh light dispels all subtlety or romance. Kelly is white, almost gagging. She pulls on her shoes, heads for the front door, opens it, comes back, looks round wildly, spots her schoolbag, heaves it onto her shoulder and bolts. Kevin appears in the hallway.

  KEVIN: Don’t go, Kelly! I’m sorry!

  Twenty minutes later.

  Kelly is walking fast along a city footpath, her schoolbag over her shoulder. There is hardly any traffic. There is no one in the street. She looks behind her, and breaks into a run.

  A soft, insistent knocking.

  Jenny stumbles to her front door in the dark, pulling on a dressing gown. She opens the door uncertainly. Kelly is crouching on the doorstep with her bag, panting.

  JENNY: Is that you, Kelly?

  KELLY (standing up): There weren’t any cars. I thought someone was after me. I ran and ran—a man came round the corner and he—

  JENNY (confused):He what?

  KELLY: He was—

  There is a shuffling in the hall behind Jenny. Kelly stops short. They turn and see Louise, stunned with sleep, standing halfway down the stairs in her nightie. Kelly takes a big breath and pulls herself together, she and Jenny exchange a look: this conversation can’t continue in front of Louise who is more innocent than both of them. Jenny and Kelly at this moment have a perfect, wordless understanding.

  LOUISE (blurred): Hi, Kelly! Where are you going?

  KELLY: Nowhere.

  Kelly puts her bag down.

  LOUISE: Can she stay the night, Mum?

  JENNY: Of course she can. It’s one o’clock in the morning, for God’s sake. Go up and get in my bed. I’ll make us a cup of tea.

  LOUISE: Come on.

  Louise turns and goes back up the stairs. Kelly picks up her bag and follows. Jenny heads for the kitchen.

  The girls enter Jenny’s bedroom, which is orderly and rather bare. Louise plunges straight back into bed.

  Kelly stands looking at the bed. On the bedside table is Louise’s dental plate.

  KELLY: Do you still sleep with her?

  LOUISE (abashed): I was reading in here and I dropped off.

  Kelly dumps her bag and starts to get undressed.

  LOUISE: Where have you been?

  KELLY: Just out.

  Kelly leaves her T-shirt and underpants on and gets in.

  KELLY: Where’s Jenny going to sleep?

  LOUISE: She can have my bed.

  Kelly lies down. A moment’s silence.

  KELLY: Put your plate in. Your teeth will never be straight.

  Louise reaches out and gets the plate, puts it in with a clack. She turns her back to Kelly and snuggles her bum towards her. Kelly rolls onto her side and puts one arm round Louise.

  LOUISE (already drowsy again): Goodnight Kelly.

  KELLY: Goodnight.

  LOUISE: I can feel your heart beating. Have you been running or something?

  KELLY: Shh. Go to sleep.

  Afternoon, several days later.

  Louise in uniform leans out the window of her house. She sees Matthew and Kelly walk past. They are walking quickly, heads down, in urgent conversation. They don’t see her. They don’t even look up.

  FADE TO BLACK

  PART THREE

  ONE MONTH EARLIER JANUARY 1985

  Morning.

  Louise and Jenny are in the school uniform department of a city store.

  Jenny has a couple of gingham dresses over her arm and a pleated skirt with the stitches still in the hem. They are looking at the blazers. Both are in a bad temper. Louise is almost tearful.

  LOUISE: I don’t know why they have to put those revolting stiff collars on the white shirts. They’ll never soften
up.

  JENNY (not looking at her): The way you treat your clothes, they’ll be in tatters by the end of first term. My God. Look at this. $75 for the blazer. It’s bloody daylight robbery.

  The shop assistant, a woman in her fifties, approaches.

  JENNY (getting in gear): Why are school clothes so expensive? This blazer. $75. If it was lined I could understand it. But it’s thin. It’s not even going to keep her warm.

  SHOP ASSISTANT (suavely rearranging hangers on a rack): If it was lined, madam, it wouldn’t be a blazer. If it had a lining, it would be a jacket.

  Jenny glances at Louise for solidarity, but Louise is furious and won’t be in it.

  JENNY (to assistant): We’ll try these on, thank you.

  Jenny is leaning against the wall of the little passageway outside the fitting rooms. She is holding a blazer, a winter skirt, two white shirts and a gingham dress.

  Meanwhile, inside the fitting room, Louise is struggling into a gingham dress. She buttons it up and stares at herself in the mirror.