Three Plays
Page 5
LOOKSMART: At your house by the sea?
PATRICIA: Why not?
LOOKSMART: We could find ourselves an old Rottweiler. Take it for walks along the beech.
PATRICIA: We could throw sticks for it.
LOOKSMART: Make it jump through hoops.
They smile.
PATRICIA: Anyway – I’m glad you came. It’s been good to get to know you a little.
LOOKSMART: You know nothing about me. A few words – that’s all.
PATRICIA: Sometimes a few words can be enough. To know what a person is.
LOOKSMART: Ah Madam – this is a strange land we live in. For your generation, you white people, you still want to be the mothers and fathers, and we – we must be something like your children. But that relationship can have no place in the future of this country.
PATRICIA: Yet you were like my son, Looksmart. At least as close as I ever got to having one. (Off his look.) And I’ll be lonely there, in my house by the sea. I really would like you to visit. Even if it is just to humour an old gogo (grandmother) with one or two marbles still rolling around inside her head.
LOOKSMART: If I come, I can come with clay animals I’ve made so you can look at them and think – it’s art!
PATRICIA: And I will bake a carrot cake. What I usually offer to my guests.
Outside, RICHARD is approaching.
RICHARD: She hasn’t fed the bloody dog!
PATRICIA: Then feed it yourself!
He goes off again – without entering the room.
PATRICIA: Looksmart, there’s something I want you to promise me. Something I want you to protect.
LOOKSMART: I think I understand. The grave on the hill?
PATRICIA: Rachel. Yes.
LOOKSMART: I used to go there and sit under the beefwoods, looking across to Giant’s Castle. That’s a good resting place.
PATRICIA: I don’t want to disturb it.
LOOKSMART: When I used to see that grey rock with the name on it, I thought it was from another time – from before you and Richard. I never thought to ask you about it.
PATRICIA: I didn’t want that shadow – to come between us.
LOOKSMART: Well the grave will be safe, Madam. I will make sure it remains protected.
PATRICIA: Thank you. My worst nightmare is the bulldozers. Digging her up.
She touches his hand lightly, sealing a pact.
RICHARD: (Shouting off again.) And where the hell is Bheki?
PATRICIA: He’s been trying to look for her. He wants to dig her up.
RICHARD: I think he’s buggered off!
They smile.
LOOKSMART: Do you remember that time I over-watered your roses? I made them go yellow. All the leaves fell off. You tried your best to be nice about it, but hell – you were cross!
They laugh.
RICHARD has entered. He is drenched and covered in mud. In his arms, he’s carrying a beautiful basalt rock. It looks like an enormous speckled bird’s egg.
RICHARD: What is going on?
PATRICIA: (Referring to the rock.) What is that, Richard?
RICHARD: I rooted around, but there was nothing there.
PATRICIA: Oh God – what have you done?
RICHARD: I thought the house was burning as I was digging in the dark.
LOOKSMART doesn’t move towards him. He watches, his face blank.
RICHARD: Beauty came and called for me. I thought something terrible had happened. Her voice wailing in the wind. I understood at last that we’d all be dead. But we aren’t dead, are we?
PATRICIA says nothing.
RICHARD: (Finally turning to LOOKSMART.) Who the hell is this?
PATRICIA: The surveyor. He works for the land development company. He was about to leave.
RICHARD: Isn’t it a bit late for this?
LOOKSMART steps forward. He takes the muddy rock from RICHARD and places it on the mantelpiece.
LOOKSMART: It’s never too late for this.
He wipes his hands on an old rag nearby. Throughout the following, he is almost buoyant – as if RICHARD no longer has any power over him.
RICHARD: (To PATRICIA.) What does he want?
LOOKSMART: So you don’t recognise me?
RICHARD: Should I?
LOOKSMART: I am Phiwayinkosi Ndlovu, Gatsheni, boya benyathi busongwa, busombuluka zidlekhaya ngoba ziswele abelusi – Ngonyama (Ndlovu clan names)! But I think you knew me once as Looksmart.
RICHARD: Looksmart? And where is it we met?
LOOKSMART: Right here. On this farm. Some years ago.
RICHARD: I’ve never heard of any Looksmart. What kind of a name is that?
LOOKSMART: It is a name like Baas is a name.
RICHARD: What are you doing wearing a suit? Did someone die?
LOOKSMART: I came to shed a bit of light.
RICHARD: You remind me of my Uncle Pete. Have you ever met my Uncle Pete?
LOOKSMART: I haven’t had that pleasure – no.
RICHARD: Well, let me tell you a little story about my Uncle Pete. The last time I saw him, he was dying, here, on this carpet, wearing a suit! Poor bugger had a food allergy. Peanuts! So he says to me, he says, ‘Richard, I have something terrible to confess.’ ‘Don’t worry, Pete,’ I say, ‘You tell me and get it all off your chest.’ So he says, ‘Over the past years, whenever I’ve come to stay, I’ve been going into your daughter’s room at night and I’ve been holding her down and I’ve been fucking her!’
PATRICIA: Jesus!
LOOKSMART: Your what?
RICHARD: (To PATRICIA.) Your daughter!
PATRICIA: How dare you!
RICHARD: (To PATRICIA.) Are you going to listen to this story, or what? Anyway, so I tell him, ‘Listen, Pete, it’s all in the past now. Let’s forgive and forget. We’ll put it all behind us and carry on. But Pete,’ I tell him, ‘now that we’re deciding to confess and all, I’ve got something to say to you. I’m the one who put the peanuts in the sherry trifle!’
RICHARD laughs at his joke.
LOOKSMART looks back steadily.
LOOKSMART: I think I shall leave you to your wife.
He turns his back on RICHARD.
RICHARD: You know, there was a time when I would have had you whipped!
LOOKSMART: Good night to you, Pa-tri-shi-a.
PATRICIA: A new start?
LOOKSMART: I’m a heavy bull, with three bellies to feed. The rest of my life belongs to my family. And the manager of the bank.
RICHARD: A real man isn’t scared of a bit of debt!
PATRICIA: One day – the beach? We’ll throw sticks?
LOOKSMART: Me and dogs –
PATRICIA: Carrot cake?
RICHARD: What on earth are you two on about?
LOOKSMART: Sala kahle (Stay well), Mama. Don’t worry – I’ll let myself out.
LOOKSMART leaves.
PATRICIA: (To herself.) Hamba kahle (Go well), Phiwayinkosi.
RICHARD: Who did he say he was? He said he knew me. He said we’d met before, I think.
PATRICIA: It doesn’t matter now.
PATRICIA looks at the stone on the mantelpiece.
PATRICIA: What did you do to her?
RICHARD: What?
PATRICIA: Rooted around, did you? Like a pig in the dark! Why couldn’t you leave her alone?
RICHARD: There was nothing there. Just a thin twig, some rotten fruit. So I covered it up.
PATRICIA: It? She’s not an it! Say her name, Richard!
RICHARD: What?
PATRICIA: Say her name! Rachel!
RICHARD: No.
PATRICIA: Say Grace.
RICHARD: What?
PATRICIA: Grace! Grace! Say the name Grace!
RICHARD: What are you trying to say?
PATRICIA: Grace!
RICHARD: Why? What do you want to do to me? Didn’t they say I was to avoid all stress? You’re trying to kill me. Is that what you want?
PATRICIA: I could see very clearly that you recognised him, Richa
rd. You aren’t half as bloody senile as you pretend to be.
RICHARD: Well of course I remember Looksmart! I said at the time it was a mistake. But you didn’t listen to me. You never did. You only ever listened to your father.
PATRICIA: That’s because he was worth listening to.
RICHARD: And what have you created in the end? Looksmart! He looks like a bloody twat to me, in his fucking suit!
PATRICIA: That fucking suit now owns this place!
RICHARD: What’s he going to do? Open a shebeen?
PATRICIA: You tell me, Richard. You tell me what you did to Grace.
RICHARD: It was a lie. Designed to upset me. I never believed a word of it. I never believed we could have made – that.
PATRICIA: What on earth are you talking about?
RICHARD: There’s nothing more to say. It was all a trick. A twist. A knife in my back. How many times do I have to say it?
PATRICIA: Don’t you want to give yourself some peace?
RICHARD: There’s never any peace.
PATRICIA is staring at him steadily – an insect on a pin.
RICHARD: There was no name for it, alright?
PATRICIA: Say it, Richard. No name for what?
RICHARD: You don’t actually know, do you?
PATRICIA: I know what I need to know. You unleashed the dog. You murdered her.
RICHARD: Oh. But is that all?
PATRICIA: Good God! Isn’t that enough?
RICHARD: She was a lying bitch.
PATRICIA: Don’t you feel any remorse?
RICHARD: To you? I did nothing to you, did I?
PATRICIA: To her, Richard! To Grace!
RICHARD: Are you mad?
PATRICIA: Oh, I can’t bear to look at you!
RICHARD: Who are you anyway? What makes you the judge? All perched up – looking down at me! You putrid –
PATRICIA: Go. Leave. Get out! Out! Just get out of my sight!
RICHARD leaves.
BEAUTY finally enters.
BEAUTY: Mesis?
PATRICIA: He’s gone.
BEAUTY: Yebo, Mesis.
PATRICIA: I never thanked him properly.
BEAUTY: Mesis?
PATRICIA: For – helping me.
BEAUTY: (Drawing PATRICIA towards the chair.) Kulungile (It’s okay), Mesis. He will understand.
PATRICIA sits.
PATRICIA: Are we ready to go?
BEAUTY: Cha, Mesis. I don’t think so. Sisaqedelela (We haven’t finished).
PATRICIA: All these years. And you never said a word. Come, Beauty. Talk to me.
PATRICIA pushes across a box for BEAUTY to sit on. BEAUTY sits uneasily.
PATRICIA: Why? Why did you stay here? Why did you remain silent?
BEAUTY: This is where I live. This job is good for me. My family has always lived here.
PATRICIA: Aren’t you angry about what happened to Grace?
BEAUTY: I was a child. I didn’t know if I should be angry. We do not talk about uSisGrace. We think of her as something – lost.
PATRICIA: Beauty, tell me the truth.
BEAUTY: Why?
PATRICIA: I have to know.
BEAUTY: Another day will be better.
PATRICIA: No. Now. Today.
BEAUTY: uSisGrace. She was with uBaas.
PATRICIA: Yes?
BEAUTY: She was together with him some other times before.
PATRICIA waits for her to continue.
BEAUTY: uBaas, he would pay her money each and every time. They said that Grace, she never loved Looksmart. Not like Looksmart loved her. He was too young for her. His head had too much words inside it. She said to my mother she was not wanting to marry him.
PATRICIA: But he said they loved each other. He said she was good.
BEAUTY: She had nothing, and uBaas, he paid her. Grace did not think about good or not good. Ubezama ukuphila (She was trying to survive).
PATRICIA: She was trying to survive?
BEAUTY: Yebo.
PATRICIA: Go on, Beauty.
BEAUTY: When she died, Grace was pregnant with uBaas’s child.
PATRICIA: She was – ?
BEAUTY: Yebo, Mesis.
Silence.
PATRICIA: What about Richard? Did he know?
BEAUTY: Before she died, Grace told him. It was at the dairy, in that room they went to. He was angry. Because she wanted to keep it. The child. She told him it was against her customs, her religion, to kill a child. I heard it from outside the door, listening. Then he started to swear. He hit her. I could see it through the door. She pushed him and she ran away, screaming about the child. And uBaas, he freed his dog on her.
PATRICIA: My God. You saw this?
BEAUTY: Yebo, Mesis.
Silence.
PATRICIA: Why didn’t you tell Looksmart about it now?
BEAUTY: Looksmart would not be able to hear something like that.
PATRICIA: I see that, yes. But Looksmart has his own story. He’s very persuasive about it. Must I now believe you?
BEAUTY: Mesis, you must find the truth for yourself.
Silence.
PATRICIA: He killed Grace. He said there was no name for it. He said, ‘Is that all?’ It wasn’t, was it? She was pregnant. He murdered two people. Grace and his child. The ambulance is coming. There are two dead children for you to pick up. My God – he killed his own flesh and blood.
BEAUTY: I don’t think uBaas can see it like that, Mesis. For him, there was no child – it was only Grace’s child. There was nothing of him.
Silence.
PATRICIA: How do I bear to look at him again? How do I carry on?
BEAUTY: It is what people are doing every day.
PATRICIA: It is what you have done.
BEAUTY says nothing.
PATRICIA: When we get to Durban tomorrow, he must go. I will put him in a home.
BEAUTY: A home?
PATRICIA: For people who are sick.
Silence.
BEAUTY: Must I take him his tea?
PATRICIA: No – not tonight.
BEAUTY: I have remembered his pills.
PATRICIA: Thank you, Beauty.
Silence.
PATRICIA: The sea. Have you ever seen it, Beauty?
BEAUTY: Cha, Mesis.
PATRICIA: Well, tomorrow you will.
Silence.
BEAUTY: That is all, Mesis?
PATRICIA: Yes, Beauty. That is all.
BEAUTY bobs and leaves.
The light fades around PATRICIA.
The End.
THE GIRL IN THE YELLOW DRESS
Production History
The Girl in the Yellow Dress was a co-production between the Market Theatre (Johannesburg), Live Theatre (Newcastle) and the Citizens Theatre (Glasgow).
It was first performed at the Grahamstown Festival on 21 June 2010. It then transferred to the Baxter Theatre in Cape Town, the Traverse in Edinburgh, Live Theatre in Newcastle, the Citizens in Glasgow, the Stadsteater in Stockholm and the Market Theatre in Johannesburg.
A new UK production opened at the Salberg Studio at Salisbury Playhouse on 3 October 2011. The production transferred to Theatre503 in London, opening on 20 March 2012 with the same cast. Several minor text changes, inspired by the Salisbury production, have been made to this edition of The Girl in the Yellow Dress.
Since then, there have been other productions of the play in the United States and Britain.
For the Market Theatre production:
Cast
CELIA
Marianne Oldham
PIERRE
Nat Ramabulana
Production Team
Director
Malcolm Purkey
Designer
Gary McCann
Lighting
Nomvula Molepo
Producer
Tshiamo Mokgadi
Production Manager
Drummond Orr
Stage Manager
Emelda Khola
For t
he Salisbury Theatre production:
Cast
CELIA
Fiona Button
RICHARD
Clifford Samuel
Production Team
Director
Tim Roseman
Designer
James Perkins
Lighting Designer
Dave Marsh
Sound & Projection
Alex Twiselton
Characters
CELIA
PIERRE
The action takes place in contemporary Paris.
There is no interval.
Part One
THE PASSIVE
CELIA’s apartment. Her sitting-room is modern and impeccable, giving a suggestion of wealth. The bookshelves are filled with books. On a mantelpiece, there’s a vase filled with daffodils. A half-visible kitchen adjoins the sitting-room. There are also entrances from the front door and CELIA’s bedroom.
CELIA’s mobile phone is on a glass table. It buzzes like an angry bee.
CELIA emerges from the bedroom. She has just had a shower and is still getting ready. Perhaps she is brushing her hair. She is in her late twenties, pale and beautiful.
She ignores the phone and moves through to the kitchen area to prepare a coffee tray. The phone stops buzzing. Then it beeps.
The doorbell rings. CELIA goes to the door.
CELIA: Hello?
PIERRE: Hello.
CELIA: Are you Pierre?
PIERRE: I am him.
CELIA: Then you’d better come in.
PIERRE enters. He is French-speaking. Of African heritage. About twenty. He has dreadlocks and wears a dark blue polar neck jumper. While CELIA closes the door behind him, he regards the books.
CELIA: Would you like to take off your coat?
PIERRE: Thank you.
He removes his coat and hands it to her. She hangs it up by the door.
CELIA: I hope you drink coffee.
PIERRE: Yes.
She moves through to fetch the coffee tray.
PIERRE: It’s generous of you to see me.
CELIA: It’s what I do.
PIERRE is gazing around surreptitiously. He sees CELIA’s row of notebooks on the shelf.
PIERRE: What’s the name of this yellow flower, la jonquille – en anglais (the daffodil – in English)?
CELIA: Daffodils.
He smells them, but they have no smell.