SUDDENLY, AT HOME

You sometimes feel you’re the only one

Who has these sorts of memories,

But, over the years you’ll come to hear

More tales of try-outs and “successes”.

A brother, a son, a sister-in-law.

A town’s worth of children.

Each one persuading someone new

Of a choice it offers them.

But not a choice you’d make yourself

Or one you can understand.

You just lost a friend forever

When their turmoil a door slammed.

There are so many of them happening,

Endless tragedies every day.

Yet it’s something that daren’t be talked of

When strangers are nearby.

A family secret spoken only of

In regretful, hushful tones.

Hidden behind a shame-filled phrase

Like “suddenly, at home.”

And every time you hear of it

All unhappily repeated,

Those familiar, buried thoughts will come

From the darkness, resurrected.

Reminding you, returning you,

To a dark time in your life,

Where bitterness still lingers

For insight you couldn’t have.

It’s not your fault, how could it be?

But it’s still yourself you blamed

For things you didn’t see,

Or words you should have found.

Those magic words to save them,

So many times attempted,

But those well-meant words could never pass

A troubled soul’s defences.

The memory and the pain still lingers

After three years… or thirteen… or thirty.

You “got on with things” and “muddled through”

Holding on to the echo of their memory.

Time may not heal your pain,

The confusion, or the anger

But years roll by quite quickly

Leaving numbness where once you were.

Your own despair and bleakness

Still can’t ever be enough

To empathise or sympathise

With a decision so bloody tough.

“There’s nothing that you could have done

Or should have done,” they’ll say.

But you know all the things you said

Or shouldn’t have said that day.

You want to ask them questions

Why wouldn’t you answer the phone?

Or talk to me? Just say something

That meant you were never alone.

I thought that I could trust you

I thought you’d understand

How much it meant to us to have you

Right here, close at hand.

And still it keeps on happening

Each and every day.

More and more who come to find

The only answer that they may.

“Their choice,” I’m told, “their life,”

Their right to go away

And leave us with their memory

Tainted by that day.

Yet still you blame yourself

For something you couldn’t have changed

A choice they made which left you here

With nothing but a grave.

So as you face another morning

With a hole where once they were

And Hope to hell when someone’s low,

Another tragedy won’t occur.

You try and help as best you can

When you hear another’s tried.

But it cannot change your inner thoughts

Of fury when they died.

A “special scar” they call it,

One so many have had to share.

“You’re not alone” they tell you,

But it still feels as if you are.

Yet still you are not listening,

Can’t be told how you made me feel.

How you left me just with memories,

Instead of you right there.

I really don’t feel comfortable with poetry as a form, but a recent incident I was told about reminded me about some things that I’m probably too ignorant and unqualified to comment on. Instead, a list of thoughts seemed to be a more respectable option, and that list very quickly was restructured into the above, any shortcomings and inappropriateness of which I can only apologise for. It remains very much a “work in progress” as I attempt to climb that rather steep learning curve, so any constructive criticisms would be happily received.

CATERINA AND THE WAVES (3)

Brian had gone of course, leaving the usual chaotic remains of a hasty breakfast in his wake. He’d also left the TV on in the kitchen, and so she was ironically now face to face with one of those wretched girls, flapping her arms around provocatively in front of the changing cloudscape and warning triangles.

Caterina stuck her tongue out at her and grabbed the remote control from where Brian had left it and blasted her into darkness. A small victory, she knew, but one that brought a momentary smile of satisfaction to her lips.

She looked around. Brian’s presence, even though it was usually just at the weekends, tended to leave more than its fair share of devastation in their home. She would patiently spend much of her lonely week returning all of it to something resembling order, only for his return to cause everything to cascade into this kind of madness again.

She tended to blame his mother. Brian had been the light of her life and he had never been able to do anything wrong as far as she had been concerned. For years she’d cleared up after him, cooked all his meals and washed all his clothes and, after he’d married Caterina, he’d been rather surprised to find that she was less than enthused at the prospect of doing the same for him. She often asked herself why she hadn’t noticed this aspect of his personality before she’d married him, but she supposed that as they say, “love is blind” and that perhaps Brian’s mother had been very good at hiding such annoyances as he might have from her. Maybe she’d realised that nobody else was likely to be stupid enough to take him off her hands and if she was ever going to be rid of the little parasite, her best bet was to show him in the brightest of lights to his fiancée at least.

She did wonder whether it had been Brian’s shortcomings and general lack of charm that had caused all of her friends to slowly fade out of her life over the last few years. Maybe they’d all seen him for what he was long before she did but felt that they couldn’t, or shouldn’t interfere. Or maybe they’d just all disliked his beer-soaked attentions and flirtations that used to always seem to surface whenever they’d gone to a restaurant with anyone else. Anyone under the age of thirty and who had breasts was fair game, it seemed, whether it was just a waitress, a receptionist or sometimes even the cab driver on their way there. She’d tried to tell him how upset this used to make her feel, but he’d always dismiss it as “just a bit of a laugh” an excuse, she always felt, for some of the worst humiliations in history.

He’d improved a little once they’d moved here of course. It had only been fifteen miles or so from where they’d both grown up, but as far as her friends were concerned, she might as well have moved to the moon. One or two of them had made the journey over shortly after they’d moved in, mostly just to have a look at the house she presumed now when she looked back, but they’d soon stopped coming. There was a nice enough little pub in the village that did decent meals, and a café just up the hill that had pretensions to gastronomic excellence when it transformed into a bistro during the evenings, so if they ever went out these days, that’s where they tended to go. As they knew pretty much everyone who went in there, and it was a pretty small village, even Brian wasn’t stupid enough to try anything on with the people there.

Of course now, when she thought about it properly, Brian’s life during the week was something that she really should have her suspicions about. Maybe her cosy little life in her lovely little cottage wasn’t really all that secure after all. Not that she really knew what she could do about it, apart from agreeing to the move, of course. She occasionally had considered getting on a train and making a surprise visit to Brian one week, and bringing things to a head, but she wasn’t completely sure that, deep down, she really wanted to know what he was up to. She also knew it would only annoy him if she did do it, and cause another row, even if she dressed it up as some kind of romantic gesture they’d both have seen through that lie very quickly.

Brian’s mum was still alive of course, and still making a nuisance of herself whilst living back in town. Once a week Caterina was expected to take that endless bus ride and do her shopping for her. That was what she’d been doing when she’d met Sara that day of course, and probably why she’d felt so pleased about it after another endless afternoon of criticism and being told how hard Brian was working and what a shame it was she didn’t have any grandchildren yet.

She started to clear away Brian’s breakfast dishes and the image of the starfish popped into her head again, only this time it was Brian and his mother tearing at her instead of the gulls.

GUNPOWDER, TREASON, PLOT AND BAKED POTATOES (1)

Last year I was asked if I’d contribute a piece of writing for an evening of entertainment that was due to take part on bonfire night. What I came up with were four longish scenes that last about fifteen minutes each and between them make up a one-act play.

Unfortunately, the dark story I chose to tell – a rather brutal tale of homeless ex-servicemen (with a smattering of Shakespearean quotes thrown in) that just happens to come to a head on November the fifth - didn’t really gel with the light-hearted nature of the planned evening and so whilst the script itself was gladly received, the project was quietly dropped.

This is the first draft of the first scene, which was planned to have developed during a period of rehearsal that never happened, so any shortcomings in the dialogue that still remain are completely my own fault.

It does go on a bit, so you might want to fetch a mug of tea and a toffee apple. Don’t say you weren’t warned…

GUNPOWDER, TREASON, PLOT AND BAKED POTATOES

A play in one act of four scenes

by

MAWH

Characters:

IAIN - Homeless, ex-army commander

STEVIE “The Professor” - Homeless, ex-army psychiatrist

BEN - Homeless, ex-convict

JAMIE - Homeless, ex-army

Scene One – “GUNPOWDER”

A blasted heath.

It is bonfire night. Centre stage, a brazier flickers. Two well wrapped up men are warming themselves beside it, rubbing their hands, enjoying the warmth.

STEVIE:

(Smiles to himself)

“When shall we three meet again?”

Iain looks around pointedly.

IAIN:

There’s only TWO of us, Stevie…

STEVIE:

(Unrepentant) SO?

IAIN:

AND…

STEVIE:

Yes?

IAIN:

We’ve only just got here…

STEVIE:

Doesn’t matter…

IAIN:

It SHOULD!

STEVIE:

Would be wrong though…

IAIN:

Hmm?

STEVIE:

“When shall we two meet again?” Doesn’t sound right…

IAIN:

It would BE right though…

STEVIE:

Mebbe… But it wouldn’t be. Can’t have that.

I think that quotations should always at least try to be accurate…

BEN:

(Arriving) Hark at the Professor…

IAIN:

Hi, Ben…

STEVIE:

(A wary nod towards him) Benjamin…

Benjamin nods back, then goes across to Iain and they exchange a warm greeting.

BEN:

Don’t suppose you’ve got anything cooking in that thing…?

IAIN:

Not today, sadly… No…

BEN:

Pity…

IAIN:

(Thoughtfully) Yes…

BEN:

Thought I might get lucky… Thought you might have a couple of spuds on the go…

IAIN:

Nope…

BEN:

…what with it being bonfire night and all…

IAIN:

Sorry…

BEN:

Ah! No matter! Just hoping, that’s all…

IAIN:

So Ben…! How’s tricks?

BEN:

Not so bad, Iain, not so bad… Apart from the constant hunger of course…

IAIN:

Of course…

(Beat – A thought occurs to him.)

Hey, Stevie… NOW there’s three of us…

STEVIE:

So?

IAIN:

Well…? Go on then…

STEVIE:

Eh?

IAIN:

“When shall we three…?”

STEVIE:

Can’t be bothered…

IAIN:

(Exasperated) Oh!

STEVIE:

Anyway, the moment’s gone…

IAIN:

Good grief!

BEN:

Wha… what’s going on?

IAIN:

Oh, nothing… The Prof’s just having one of his moments, that’s all…

BEN:

Oh dear…

IAIN:

(Ruefully) Yeah…

STEVIE:

Anyway, I take your point…

IAIN:

What point…?

STEVIE:

Under the circumstances, my quotation was totally inappropriate…

IAIN:

Oh aye…

STEVIE:

You were absolutely right…

IAIN:

Was I?

Iain and Ben exchange baffled looks.

STEVIE:

Absolutely!

Iain and Ben look at him blankly.

STEVIE:

We had indeed only just arrived…

My humour was misplaced… completely out of context…

BEN:

Humour? What humour?

IAIN:

Eh, well, never mind, eh, Stevie…

STEVIE:

…and would have worked so much better if only I’d waited…

IAIN:

Eh?

STEVIE:

There are now indeed three of us. Stupid! Stupid! Why do I say these things?

I should learn to wait… I should…

BEN:

Hey, it’s all right Stevie old pal…

STEVIE:

I am NOT your PAL!

IAIN:

Calm yourself down lad… It doesn’t matter…

(To Ben) It looks like it’s going to be one of THOSE nights…

BEN:

Again?

Iain and Ben exchange a downhearted look.

IAIN:

Tonight of all nights… Jamie’ll be bad enough to cope with…

But if this fella’s is going off on one, too…

BEN:

God help us…

IAIN:

(Looks around) It’s getting dark… What time is it?

Ben rolls back the sleeve of his overcoat to reveal a wristwatch.

BEN:

Five past four…

STEVIE:

Sixteen – oh – five… Very appropriate…

BEN:

Eh…?

STEVIE:

No matter…

BEN:

Where’s Jamie tonight?

IAIN:

Dunno… I don’t suppose He’ll be venturing outside much, though…

BEN:

No…?

IAIN:

He hates all these bangs and flashes…

BEN:

What a wuss…

STEVIE:

Bad time of year for bangs and flashes…

BEN:

What? Does it take him back to ‘Nam or something…?

STEVIE:

Iraq, I think…

BEN:

What? Get off… He’s never been near the place…

IAIN:

Ah, you’d be surprised…

BEN:

What, Jamie? Not a military bone in his body…

IAIN:

You think?

BEN:

You only have to look at him… You two are more likely soldiers than that loser….

Iain and Stevie exchange a look.

BEN:

Anyway, it’s not just tonight, is it?

Them bangs and flashes have been going on for over a month now…

IAIN:

Worse tonight, though…

BEN:

Mebbe… But he was out last night, wasn’t he?

And I thought last night was just as bad…

IAIN:

Different, though, innit?

BEN:

How so?

IAIN:

Bonfire night… The actual night itself… I mean…

You know up front that there’s no escaping it…

BEN:

A man’s still go to eat though…

IAIN:

He’ll have allowed for that…

BEN:

(Aside) Will he now…?

IAIN:

Made plans…

BEN:

(Sarcastically) What? With his “commando training”?

IAIN:

Mebbe…

BEN:

Don’t make me laugh…

STEVIE:

He HAS got a gun, though…

BEN:

You what?

STEVIE:

Showed it to me, he did… His old service weapon, I think…

BEN:

What would an old soak like him be doing with one of those?

STEVIE:

Don’t know… He had it though…

BEN:

If he did have one he’d sell it… I know he would…

Anyway, what would he show it you for?

STEVIE:

Don’t know. He just did. Pointed it right at me…

IAIN:

He threatened you?

STEVIE:

Don’t know. Might have done, I suppose…

Don’t know… Laughed a lot… Took my bottle off me…

BEN:

And you let him? That lanky streak of nothing?

STEVIE:

He – pointed – a – GUN – at – me!

IAIN:

But it can’t have been loaded…

STEVIE:

Might have been…

IAIN:

How?

STEVIE:

Don’t know. Didn’t want to risk it…

BEN:

Where would he get a gun from anyway?

STEVIE:

Might be his own…

IAIN:

Maybe he found it…

BEN:

’Cos  the kid’s are forever throwing them things away these days…

Are you sure it was real?

STEVIE:

Looked real enough to me…

IAIN:

And you didn’t imagine it?

STEVIE:

I might not have all my marbles these days, but I know a bloody gun when I see

one… Especially when it’s pointing at my face…

BEN:

Ah! He’s making it up…

STEVIE:

Am I? Am !?!! “Browning Hi-power semi-automatic nine millimetre…”

I know one when I see one… I’ve handled enough of them in my time…

BEN:

(To Iain) He could’ve read that in a book…

STEVIE:

I’ve read a lot of things…

BEN:

(Smirks) Or in a toyshop window…

STEVIE:

…about a lot of things… but… my firearm was issued to me…

BEN:

Don’t make me laugh. Look at you! I don’t know.

Suddenly every nut-job I know is ex-Army…

STEVIE:

Nut-job? Nut job! I’ll give you nut-job!

Stevie angrily flings himself towards Ben fists flailing.

Iain manages to grab him and hold him off.

IAIN:

Hey… Hey… HEY!! Calm down, Stevie… Just calm down…

BEN:

Anytime, mate! Any time you like!

IAIN:

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about…

STEVIE:

Let me go, Iain… Let me go! I’ll have you, sonny. Just see if I don’t…

BEN:

Yeah? You and whose…?

STEVIE:

(Boiling with frustration) Cocky little… Ignorant…

IAIN:

Let it go, Stevie…

BEN:

(Confrontational) Who are you calling ignorant…?

STEVIE:

You, you little pipsqueak… I’m calling you ignorant!

IAIN:

Let it go! Both of you…

Ben seems up for a fight, but a look from Iain makes him think again.

BEN:

Ah leave it…

STEVIE:

Always had your card marked, Benjamin. Always saw right through you…

BEN:

You saw nothing…

STEVIE:

Oh no? Me and Iain here… We served together… We’ve stuck together…

You? You’re a lousy little ex-con hanging round with us just to see what you can

get… Coming around here trying to con us out of what little food

we’ve got…

BEN:

So you HAVE got some spuds on the go! I KNEW it!

STEVIE:

Wanting to take something that we’ve got … that we’ve worked damn hard to get…

rather than making any effort to get his own…

Can’t you just smell those spuds, Ben…? Can’t you just TASTE ‘em?!

IAIN:

No, Ben… Honestly… We haven’t…

STEVIE:

Baked to perfection… Crisp skins… beautifully soft inside…

BEN:

Ah, go on… Let me have some…

IAIN:

There aren’t any…

BEN:

Go on, I know you’ve got ‘em ! All nicely wrapped up in a bit o’ tin foil in here

are they…?

STEVIE:

Why don’t you look?

BEN:

You have, haven’t you…?

Stevie just stares into Ben’s eyes.

STEVIE:

Piping hot and soft as snow…

BEN:

Aw! I can taste ‘em already!

STEVIE:

Then stick your hand in and fish ‘em out if you want ‘em!

BEN:

I can’t! It’s too hot!

STEVIE:

If you REALLY want them…

BEN:

I can’t! Have you got a stick or something…?

STEVIE:

All you have to do is put your hand in - Just for a second! – and you’ll have food!

A free lunch you haven’t had to work for… Just one quick moment… You’ve seen

those fire walkers… It’s only mind over matter… Probably won’t hurt at all…. Just

think of those delicious… hot… potatoes…

BEN:

Why don’t I just make you get ‘em for me?

Ben makes a move forward, but Iain grabs his arm.

IAIN:

Touch him and I’ll break this for you…

BEN:

Ah, come on… I only want a bite to eat… I’m starving, mate…

IAIN:

We’re ALL starving here son…

BEN:

Then just give us a bit… Just a little bit… Come on!

IAIN:

Ben! We haven’t got any food.

BEN:

(Utter disbelief) But HE said…

IAIN:

He SAYS a lot of things…

Stevie laughs. Ben feels humiliated.

IAIN:

Ben! If we had something, we’d share it with you…

BEN:

Then why would he…?

IAIN:

He was having you on. Seeing how far you’d go…

BEN:

You… you… I could taste it. I swear I could taste it… Oh, God! I’m SO hungry!

Iain turns towards Stevie.

IAIN:

You and your mind games, professor… Some time you’ll go too far…

STEVIE:

Always interesting to see just how far people are prepared to go…

BEN:

You… You’d have let me put my hand in there?

IAIN:

He’d never have done it…

STEVIE:

I think he would have…

IAIN:

He’d’ve gone to get a stick, or something…

STEVIE:

You can see the desperation in him! Smell it!

IAIN:

But he’s not stupid!

STEVIE:

I didn’t say he was… But… Just look at him! He doesn’t trust us an inch! If he’d gone

off looking for a stick or anything… he thought we might have been away on our toes

with the food. He couldn’t risk that…

IAIN:

And what if he’d stuck YOUR hand into the fire?

STEVIE:

You’d never have let him do that, Iain…

IAIN:

Wouldn’t I?

STEVIE:

No. You forget, I know you TOO well… You’d never have let him…

IAIN:

One of these days, I just might… I don’t know, with all your talk you’ve made ME feel

hungry now…

STEVIE:

The power of suggestion, Iain. The power of suggestion!

IAIN:

Don’t you start trying those things with ME, Stevie… or I might just leave you alone

with our friend here…

STEVIE:

No need to be so uncivilised, old son… You know, I’m getting a bit peckish myself…

IAIN:

The power of suggestion…?

STEVIE:

Possibly… possibly… Still, it’s a good night for finding food, so we should be hopeful

of finding something later…

IAIN:

True, true…

BEN:

You think we’ll be able to get something…?

STEVIE:

Bound to, bound to…

BEN:

Why?

IAIN:

All those people eating outdoors… There’s always rich pickings later on…

We’ll just have to wait a while, that’s all…

BEN:

Why should we wait? Surely the three of us are threatening enough to persuade

anyone to part with a bag of chips or something…

STEVIE:

Not the way we do things, dear boy…

BEN:

Don’t see why not…

IAIN:

More trouble than it’s worth…

BEN:

It’s worth it if I get something to eat…

IAIN:

No wonder you ended up in prison, Lad. You don’t think, do you?

BEN:

Eh?

IAIN:

Look at us!

BEN:

So? Scary enough, I’d’ve thought…

STEVIE:

And DISTINCTIVE…

IAIN:

They’d pick us up inside half an hour…

BEN:

(Not convinced) Right…

IAIN:

The way things are, we’re pretty much left alone… You bring that lot down on us and we’ll have to start all over again somewhere else…

STEVIE:

If they ever let us out at all…

BEN:

But I’ve got to EAT… and SOON!

IAIN:

There’ll be plenty soon enough… A bit of patience laddie, that’s all you need…

BEN:

Easy for you to say…

IAIN:

Eh?

BEN:

There’s two of you… Twice as much chance to find anything…

STEVIE:

And twice as many mouths to feed… Ah! The boy’s an idiot!

BEN:

Now just hold on…

IAIN:

(A flash of anger – Just when he thought everything had calmed down)

Stevie! I warned you…

STEVIE:

(Unapologetic) Well…

IAIN:

(He stares menacingly at Ben) Ben…

BEN:

Well… I’ll show you. Maybe I’m NOT such an idiot after all…

STEVIE:

I find that hard to…

IAIN:

STEVIE!

STEVIE:

(Holds his hands up in surrender) Sorry…

(Beat)

So… You’ve got a brilliant scheme to feed us all, then…?

BEN:

Might have…

Pause. Iain and Stevie look expectantly towards Ben. When he says nothing they

exchange a comic glance with each other… Stevie nudges Iain in an attempt to get

him to press Ben further… which after a moment, Iain reluctantly does…

IAIN:

Well…?

BEN:

Why should I tell you?

STEVIE:

I knew it! The boy hasn’t a clue…

BEN:

I have…

STEVIE:

So…?

Ben looks at him blankly.

STEVIE:

(Exasperated now) Tell us what it is then…

BEN:

I… I…

STEVIE:

For God’s sake, we’re wasting our time here…

BEN:

You said…

STEVIE:

Yes?

BEN:

That…

STEVIE:

Yes?

BEN:

Jamie would probably have some food stashed away…

STEVIE:

And that’s it? That’s the big idea? Steal from Jamie?

If you remember, I also said that he has a GUN…

JAMIE:

I didn’t say we should steal his stuff, just…

Well maybe he might share it with us, if he’s stashed up enough of it…

IAIN:

He may have a point…

STEVIE:

Oh, so now you want to steal Jamie’s food too…

IAIN:

No… Of course not… But if we promise we’ll get him some more later…

BEN:

That’s right… Replacements…

IAIN:

Then he might be reasonable… It IS a good night for finding stuff…

STEVIE:

And I suppose Jamie REALLY won’t want to be going out himself…

I’ll give you that…

IAIN:

It’s just a question of tracking him down…

STEVIE:

He’ll most probably have holed up at the old warehouse…

IAIN:

Aye, that’s true… And I did tell him I might check in on him later…

You know? See how he’s coping…

STEVIE:

Even if you weren’t sure where he’d be?

IAIN:

I knew YOU’D know…

STEVIE:

Ah!

IAIN:

You ALWAYS know…

STEVIE:

Making me an accomplice to this dreadful act…

IAIN:

Dreadful? What’s so dreadful about it?

STEVIE:

It’s just… I get a feeling about it, that’s all.

BEN:

Ah, you’re just being soft…

STEVIE:

Am I? You know what Jamie’s like on a good day…

BEN:

And…?

STEVIE:

Well throw in what day it is… And the fact he’ll be on edge anyway…

and the fact that we’re going there to steal from him…

IAIN:

SHARE with him…

STEVIE:

If you say so… And then there’s the gun of course…

BEN:

I don’t believe that for a moment…

STEVIE:

Psssh! You believe what you want to believe…

IAIN:

You’re still coming though, aren’t you Stevie?

STEVIE:

I might… Tag along… Just to see how things develop…

BEN:

Ah, you always were coming along…

STEVIE:

Was I?

BEN:

You said so!

STEVIE:

Did I?

BEN:

You said “We’re going there to steal from him”

not “You’re going there to steal from him…”

STEVIE:

Did I really? Well, look at me…

Caught out once again by your massive genius intellect…

BEN:

You...

IAIN:

Leave him alone, Ben… You coming then, Stevie?

STEVIE:

Presently… Presently… Just…

IAIN:

Yes?

STEVIE:

We should be careful, that’s all…

IAIN:

Right… Come on, then. Let’s go…

Iain and Ben exit. Stevie is left alone, staring sadly at the flickering flames.

STEVIE:

But it’s so warm here, by the fire… (A big sigh)

“Fair is foul, and foul is fair:

Hover through the fog and filthy air.”

Stevie follows the others. Blackout. End of scene one.

© MAWH 2009