Waving Scene 3

Lena: (stopping him) What are you doing?

She wants me to stick a couple of these on. Make them look sold to generate interest.

Lena: It’s one of mum’s earlier works. She painted it just after dad’s shop burned down.

Angry, wasn’t she.

Fabian: It’s like… a womb, I want to say.

Do you?

Fabian: It’s lucky I happened to be passing. She was shaking. Poor thing. I quickly dashed back and got my spare key.

Everybody needs good neighbours.

Fabian: I’ve never seen her like that. She seemed quite upset.

You’re a good friend.

Fabian: Fantastic brush strokes. Yes. So dynamic. It’s the texture I love.

Picture it hanging over your sofa!

Fabian: These nibbles are delicious. You must try some. (He provocatively wafts an aperitif over Miles’ mouth.)

Let me know if you want me to put any of these lovely red dots anywhere.

Lena: I don’t know why mum dangles all these men on. Deep down they know nothing’s going to happen, which is why they never buy anything.

Leave him alone, he’s good company. A bit of fun.

Lena: It’s not exactly rich pickings around here. Imagine if we’d been brought up anywhere else.

(Loudly) You’re right, Lena. Fabian is a bit stinky!

Lena: Shhh! What are you on?

(calling over) Mum? Mum? Lena’s teasing me.

Lena: Have you been drinking?

Relax, would you?

Artist: How nice. Why not have a little wander around? You might come across a Picasso.

(wandering over) Or stumble over a pollock.

(Fabian leaves to another part of stage, as if wandering round exhibition)

No interest in my virginal sister? The night is young.

Artist: There’s no interest in any of it. I’ve fallen out of fashion.

Like all the greats.

Artist: Don’t you start.

They don’t know their shit, ma.

Artist: I don’t know what more I can do. You won’t even make it to the airport at this rate. We’ll have to think up a plan b for your trip.

Would you let that go? We’ve all moved on.

Artist: You made a promise.

I made a suggestion that would be long forgotten if you didn’t keep bringing it up.

Artist: Don’t be mean, Lena’s counting on it. A fun trip with her little brother. It’ll mark a new beginning, now Colin’s finally come good.

Exactly. She can eat, drink, pray the shit out of wherever she likes. I’m gonna stay and try to work things out with Clare.

Artist: My God, you’re both so haunted by your exes and neither’s worth it? How a woman could have so much hold over you. There was no substance to her, just a whacky dress sense to compensate for her personality. Or lack of one.

(putting a red dot on her) Jesus. I only came over because I thought you’d be more fun.

(Fabian wanders to the back of the stage, looking at a painting with back to audience. Lena takes one of the glasses from Miles.)

Oy, that one’s mum’s. Sorry, ma. She’s so greedy.

Artist: Stop after this one, ok?

What about my hair? (inhales) There’s something in the air. Can you feel it? I don’t know who, and I don’t know what and I don’t know how, but I can feel we’re getting close to a sale.

(They look around the room and sniff a bit, then start laughing together).

(becoming serious again) Your latest stuff… The collages, the cuttings…

Artist: Decoupage? I’m experimenting.

Is that what you call it. It’s like the work of a different person.

Artist: Don’t you like them?

They’re great, but…

Artist: I love them.

They’re a bit childish, aren’t they?

Artist: Lena was right about the wine… (She tries to take the wine back.)

I like them, I like them. They’re deceptively simple. It’s not a negative. They’re… you know. Cool.

Artist: I thought you were a poet. Lena thinks they’re great.

Sure she does. Do you know what your problem is?

Artist: No, and I do not want to know.

The problem with you is…

Artist: Here we go. I’m a terrible mother.

That’s not what I was going to say.

Artist: But everything’s my fault all the same?

You’ve always pitted us against each other. Always on some maternal power kick.

Artist: It’s called parenting. You can stop blaming me, I’m not the reason you’re never… you know…

Satisfied?

Artist: There you go. Much better.

You’ve fucked it.

Artist: They only come for the free wine and to get out of the house. I’m happy to oblige! Happy to oblige!

Mum, can you just…

Lena: Mother, don’t!

I’m sorry, mum. I didn’t mean any of that. Can we go and sit down.