F*ck the Polar Bears (NHB Modern Plays) Page 2
SERENA. What’s the salary?
GORDON. Two point four million.
SERENA. Fuck.
GORDON. That’s what Wiggie earns.
SERENA. Wow, Gordon.
Beat.
I could teach Body Balance in the attic, if I qualify.
GORDON. Course you’ll qualify.
SERENA. Did you know that the Lemon Tree rents out its conservatory?
GORDON. I didn’t, no.
SERENA. I’m jumping the gun but maybe I could start a Balance class there as well. Without the drive to school I get three hours of my day back!
GORDON enjoys SERENA’s pleasure.
We could fly Mum and Bridget and the kids over for the house-warming, open the back all up. We might have to have those blasty heaters that look like fires, the kids would love that, unless Blundhilde’s still with us, in which case we’d have to light a proper fire like cavemen. The first thing to do is secure the railings down the bottom so there’s no possibility of anyone falling in…
GORDON. I could give the kids boat rides on the river.
SERENA. Oh, Gord, it’s such a haven, easy for work and ten minutes from the best girls’ prep in London, what more can parents do?
GORDON’s champagne glass smashes.
Shit!
GORDON. Shit.
SERENA. How did that happen?
GORDON. I’ve no idea.
SERENA. That’s freaky.
GORDON. I didn’t squeeze it or anything… it’s like a bomb, it’s everywhere.
SERENA. A self-combusting glass. Are you okay?
GORDON. I’m fine.
GORDON starts to clear it up.
Can you pass that newspaper? We should throw the rest of this away.
SERENA. Fortunately there are five other unopened ones…
He gathers the broken glass and open pizza box.
I’ll get the dustbuster.
She opens a new box.
That actually smells really good.
She eats some pizza.
Our nicest glasses, those, it must have had a crack…
GORDON. Yeah.
SERENA stops eating.
SERENA. Uh.
GORDON. What?
SERENA. Something just crunched.
GORDON. Really?
SERENA. Mmm, that felt peculiar.
GORDON. Did you swallow?
SERENA. Mmm.
GORDON. It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine, but you should eat something to bulk it out so it can’t cut anything on the way down –
SERENA. Like my jugular?
GORDON. Bread, maybe, or peanut butter, something with some stick to it…
He goes to look for some.
A piece must have snuck in the side of the box.
Half beat.
SERENA. Do you only not want me to die because you’d worry you’d killed me?
GORDON. What?
SERENA. I’m a nightmare, aren’t I? At least your first marriage was calm.
GORDON. Serena…
SERENA. Sometimes I think you wish you’d never married me.
GORDON. You’re the one who’s angry.
SERENA. The one who mouths off, maybe.
GORDON. Do you wish you’d never married me?
SERENA. I’m not the one who feeds you glass.
GORDON. I don’t feed you glass!
They hear the key in the lock.
SERENA. Ssh, they’ll know we’re fighting.
GORDON. We’re not. Drink this.
He hands her a glass of water.
SERENA. From the tap?
GORDON. We’re out of bottled.
SERENA. There’s more in the garage…
She sips.
Tastes of chlorine.
GORDON. Means it’s clean.
The door slams, GORDON shouts cheerfully through to the hallway.
Hi, gorgeous, how’s my girl?
We hear BLUNDHILDE and RACHEL in the vestibule.
BLUNDHILDE (off). You going to hang your coat up?
SERENA. Shit.
SERENA rushes off. GORDON calls after her.
GORDON. What? You found Phoebe? Serena, what is it?
BLUNDHILDE (off) Whoops, the hook’s coming loose…
We hear the tumble dryer opening. SERENA curses.
SERENA (off). I should have hung the bloody things outside!
Blackout.
End of Scene.
Scene Two
Friday night
Later the same evening, GORDON, alone, speaks privately to someone we can’t see.
GORDON. I know you’re somewhere, ’cause I know what you’re up to. I am on to you, as you are on to me.
The doorbell rings.
And you know what, Phoebe, you’re right to be hiding.
GORDON answers the door.
CLARENCE. Yo, bro.
GORDON. What’s up?
CLARENCE. I’m good, very good. You?
GORDON. Heroic, we’re smashing it. Is that the old van?
CLARENCE. Yeah…
GORDON. Still going?
CLARENCE. Just about.
They come through. CLARENCE carries a painting kit, a box of eggs and a small polar bear with a card.
It’s very quiet, where is everyone?
GORDON. We wanted Rache out the way.
CLARENCE. Oh.
GORDON. She’s gone to her godmother’s.
CLARENCE. ’Cause of paint fumes?
GORDON. You got the fancy stuff, didn’t you?
CLARENCE. I did.
GORDON. Serena was very particular…
CLARENCE. I got it.
GORDON. So no, not fumes, just while we get the house spick and span.
Beat.
CLARENCE. How are they both?
GORDON. Legends, the pair of them. You’ll see Serena later, she’s back to do this training thing.
CLARENCE. What’s she training in?
GORDON. Kind of yoga but not quite.
CLARENCE. Oh right, great.
CLARENCE hands GORDON the eggs.
Home grown by my other half.
GORDON. We won’t get hangovers off those.
Beat.
CLARENCE. One of the upsides of living lightly.
GORDON. Who’s the other half?
CLARENCE. Oh, you know, my girlfriend. Well, woman-friend.
GORDON. What, no sex?
CLARENCE. No, not no sex, I just meant, not a girl, as such…
GORDON. Name?
CLARENCE. Irene.
GORDON. Is Irene married?
CLARENCE. No.
GORDON. Is she a looker, is she?
CLARENCE. Not officially a looker, Gordon, no.
GORDON’s phone rings, he jumps for it.
GORDON. ’Scuse me, I’m expecting a call.
He snatches up the phone, it’s charging so he has to stoop to speak.
Hello, hello, mate?
There’s no one there. He looks at phone.
Don’t know what that was.
The phone rings again. He looks, it’s a different number.
Oh, okay. Yup?
BLUNDHILDE (on phone). Gordon, it’s Blundhilde…
GORDON. Yup, hi, I’m still looking, can’t find her anywhere.
He puts it on speaker so he can stand up. From the car, through the phone, RACHEL wails.
RACHEL (on phone). Phoebe?
BLUNDHILDE (on phone). She just wants to say goodnight…
GORDON. Yeah, course she does, I know she does.
BLUNDHILDE (on phone). Okay, thanks, Gordon. Give us a ring if she turns up.
In the background RACHEL wails again.
RACHEL (on phone). Find Phoebe!
GORDON. I’m doing my best, my angel!
He closes his phone.
You remember Phoebe?
CLARENCE. Rachel’s polar bear?
GORDON. She’s lost.
CLARENCE. Oh, no. I brought her a baby one.
CLARENCE. Son of Phoebe.
Half beat.
But, obviously, if she’s lost Phoebe…
Beat.
Does she still think she’s real?
GORDON. Yeah.
CLARENCE. Everyone was writing notes last time I was here, from Phoebe. ‘Mmm, chocolate… !’, then when Rachel turned her back you’d eat it…
He does the voice of young RACHEL.
‘Phoebe, you’re such a greedy guts!’
GORDON. I’m impressed you remember.
Half beat.
CLARENCE. I’m sorry to miss her.
GORDON. You might see her, depends if you’re a painter or a tosher.
CLARENCE. Did you call me a tosser?
GORDON. Tosher, you tosser. Do you throw the paint on or do you do a proper job?
CLARENCE. Why would I not do it properly? It’s my trade, it’s your house.
GORDON. It’s for selling, not to live in.
CLARENCE. But somebody’ll live here.
GORDON. They’ll repaint. Have we talked money?
CLARENCE. Don’t worry about it.
GORDON. Family-and-friends rate for your old bro?
CLARENCE. It’s a gift, Gordon, a thank-you for your help.
GORDON. Don’t turn all Jesus on me, Clarence.
CLARENCE. It’s not exactly Messianic to say thank you.
GORDON. Right then, gift accepted. To be honest it’ll help with cash flow.
CLARENCE. Yeah?
GORDON. Even us rich bastards have our moments. But it won’t last long.
He takes a step backwards and trips over the little bear.
Aagh!
CLARENCE. Is he all right?
GORDON. What about me? It’s not fucking funny.
CLARENCE. D’you remember you always got clumsy when you were in trouble?
GORDON. No.
CLARENCE. When you had all those stolen razors under your bed and kept dropping your fork at dinner.
GORDON. What’s wrong with you?
CLARENCE. Or when you two-timed Theresa Manning and couldn’t stop bashing in to lamp posts!
GORDON. Stop talking bollocks, and which of us is the two-timer of the family?
Beat.
CLARENCE. Janey sends her love by the way.
GORDON. ‘Janey’ now, is it?
CLARENCE. Jane.
GORDON. She your best friend?
CLARENCE. No, she’s my ex-sister-in-law… She’s only along the coast.
GORDON. How is she, still in her dead-end job?
CLARENCE. She runs the charity now, spends all her weekends taking city kids up on the Downs, she loves it.
GORDON. Well, what else are you going to do with your weekends with no kids of your own.
Beat.
CLARENCE. So what’s the house like?
GORDON. What d’you mean?
CLARENCE. Your new one.
GORDON. Stunning.
CLARENCE. Yeah?
GORDON. Historic and very peaceful. Do you know Hampton?
CLARENCE. No.
GORDON. There’s a row on the river, it’s the last house.
CLARENCE. Great. You were always ambitious for that stuff, weren’t you.
GORDON. What stuff?
CLARENCE. Big houses and that.
GORDON. It’s an exceptional place.
CLARENCE. I’m sure.
GORDON. Show me someone who doesn’t dream of having that. Who wouldn’t, if they had the money, live on the best bit of river in the best city in the world in a house to die for with its own private jetty?
CLARENCE. Dad would be proud.
GORDON. When are you going to make Mum proud?
CLARENCE. I think she is proud. Talking of which, I’m hoping we might have five minutes while I’m here, the two of us, there are some things I’d like to say.
GORDON. You’ve said thanks.
CLARENCE. I know.
GORDON. You’ve said it.
CLARENCE. It would mean a lot.
GORDON doesn’t want to hear.
GORDON. Seen Mum recently?
CLARENCE. I see her every week.
GORDON. Since when? Man, can you smell that? I keep getting a whiff of drains.
CLARENCE. You been letting off?
GORDON. Grow up, Clarence. You know how things always come –
CLARENCE. In threes.
GORDON. I’ve had a day of it. So, yeah, it’s, uh, mainly the hallway upstairs and the other bits we talked about.
Half beat.
CLARENCE. I’ll start prepping.
GORDON. And. If you come across Phoebe…
CLARENCE. Course.
GORDON’s phone dings, he checks it.
GORDON. What do you mean nineteen per cent, you’ve been charging all night, I watched you turn green! (To CLARENCE.) Did you see a green light?
CLARENCE. I didn’t notice.
GORDON. That was definitely –
CLARENCE. Maybe it’s the connector.
GORDON. It’s a new charger, that.
He reads his text.
Oh fuck, he’s on holiday.
CLARENCE. Who?
GORDON. Never mind. Mr Cash Flow.
CLARENCE’s phone dings. He checks his message and laughs.
What’s funny?
CLARENCE. Irene’s just sent a picture of her granddaughter.
GORDON. Granddaughter?
CLARENCE. She’s only eight months.
GORDON. So Irene’s a blue rinse.
CLARENCE. She has a little grey pixie cut, actually, very cute.
GORDON. Bully for you, with your Help-the-Aged girlfriend and your do-gooding attitude.
He trips up again.
Fuck!
CLARENCE. You’ve grown two left feet, Gord, chill out.
GORDON. Don’t patronise me, you little bastard.
CLARENCE. Come on, I’m your brother, I’ve not seen you in two years, I’m just trying to –
GORDON. Just paint my walls and shut the fuck up.
Beat.
End of Act.
ACT TWO
Scene One
Saturday morning
Dust sheets are down, CLARENCE prepares Polyfilla. SERENA hurries on.
SERENA. Do you have everything you need?
CLARENCE. I think so, thanks.
She checks the paint.
SERENA. That’s great you found the ‘bone’. I’m not sure our bones are actually that colour. I hope it works with the carpet up there. I know it’s pricier but you can’t sell a house these days without it, everyone’s become so damn chic. Probably the reason our buyer pulled out, ’cause we didn’t have it on the walls. Just add the cost to your bill, will you, Clarence?
CLARENCE. Uh, actually…
CLARENCE tries to say there will be no bill but SERENA whizzes into the kitchen not noticing.
SERENA (off). The open house is Monday at five… needs must, you know, got to push for your dreams. Would you like a cup of tea, Clarence?
CLARENCE. No thanks, Serena, I’m fine.
GORDON walks through in a towel.
SERENA. In the new place I want one of those things that does boiling water on tap.
CLARENCE. Oh right?
SERENA. How lovely will that be, like on the Starship Enterprise or something.
CLARENCE. I enjoy waiting for the kettle to boil, it’s a tiny pause in the day.
SERENA. Dead time, drives me crazy.
CLARENCE. I don’t think I’d feel I’d actually made a cup of tea with one of those things.
SERENA. Really?
CLARENCE. If you don’t knead the bread, did you make the loaf, if you don’t stir the gloop, have you baked the cake?
SERENA. If you don’t pilot the plane, have you landed? Tea is tea is tea, surely.
CLARENCE. I bet they guzzle energy.
SERENA. Don’t start. No more than boiling kettles, apparently.
CLARE
NCE. Says who?
SERENA. The manufacturers. It doesn’t cost any more anyway, beyond the initial outlay obviously, but, you know, economy, ecology, it all merges into one. Did Gordon disturb you last night? I got back in the early hours and he was breathing like a train in a tunnel –
She does a half-voiced impression.
Heurgh, heurgh, heurgh… Did you hear the debacle of us losing Rachel’s bear?
CLARENCE. Yeah, poor little Rache.
SERENA. I slept with her for hours she was so upset and I’ve got this training today, got to bed stupidly late of course.
She catches sight of the time.
Oh god, I’m sorry, Clarence, I have to go over something on the computer…
CLARENCE. Am I in your way?
SERENA. No, you’re fine, I’ll just…
She goes to put it on, a bit embarrassed.
Crap, I just turned it off, Macs do my head in. Are you Apple?
CLARENCE. No.
SERENA. It took me twenty-seven sessions to get on top of my MacBook.
CLARENCE. Yeah?
SERENA. Yeah. Twenty-seven sessions in Covent Garden. Anyway, they told me to always leave it on standby, but then everyone who’s sensitive about these things or, basically, Blundhilde, our au pair, says turn everything off when you’re not using them. She’s got a thing about the blinking eyes, you know, I mean she has a point but she even says you should switch sockets off at walls when you’re not actually using your charger or whatever, but she’s from Iceland and frankly, you know, what’s life about? And honestly I still don’t know if it’s bad to keep things on standby because we get infra rays or whatever damaging our brains or if it wastes electricity, or is it the money? If it is money it doesn’t affect us in this house so much because we get a discount on our energy bills, obviously, because of Gordon, plus the more energy people use, the more he gets paid so, that’s a bit confusing. Or is it, you know, because it adds to the ozone layer. That suddenly makes me feel really old because nobody even talks about the ozone any more, I don’t even know where that came from… what happened to the ozone? Anyway, you know what I mean, the we’re-all-going-to-die, bit of strong wind and whoops-the-world’s-ending thing.
CLARENCE. Emissions and stuff.
SERENA. Exactly, hothouse, greenhouse, poor Gordon can’t move for the jargon. Anyway, didn’t mean to start a doom-and-gloom chat, sorry I’m talking too much, I always do when I’m nervous, feel sick about today.
The screen springs to life. The footage is of SERENA teaching. The sound is down.
Don’t look. It sounds an awful hotchpotch, but I actually really love it, it’s a mixture of t’ai chi, yoga and Pilates. But they make you do this awful video of yourself teaching which is obviously…