Waving Scene 2

Lena: What are you working on? Something suitably bleak?

A love song. So, yes.

Lena: Go on. Hit me with it.

Not got to that stage yet.

Lena: Spoil sport.

How do you spell diaorrhea?

Lena: Never could, never will be able to.

(rock singing) Help, it’s b…b… burning my rear!

Lena: You gotta get me outta here!

It’s the stink that I most fear…

Lena: Tell me something. Why the cat? She’s not exactly an animal person.

They make you live longer, don’t they. Repetitive stroking lowers your blood pressure. It’s something to do with the purring. The vibrations. You can’t argue with science.

Lena: Still, you could have chosen a less manky one. One that wouldn’t maim and poison.

He seemed a kindred spirit. Pale and interesting. And weirdly enough, she enjoys looking after him.

Lena: I can tell, because unlike her he’s enormous. How could you leave her alone when she’s in such a bad way?

She wasn’t that bad, just a bit off colour. I didn’t know a cat scratch could make you that ill and I didn’t know you were next of kin.

Lena: Who else would that be, genius?

Still, they shouldn’t have called you, I could have handled it. You didn’t have to come back, so suspiciously quickly, from… Japan, was it?

Lena: Then it was Cornwall, which to be fair is a similar distance, time-wise.

When d’you get back?

Lena: A few weeks ago.

Fuck sake.

Lena: I wasn’t ready to come back, back.

You knew. Is that why you left?

Lena: She’s always been eccentric. And she’s never had a filter. It’s amazing what you can convince yourself is normal.

I didn’t want it to be true either. But to leave me in charge?

Lena: She’s much happier when she’s with you. Less snappy. Mum’s always so annoyed with me, and I figured it was your turn. About time her golden boy did some of the heavy lifting.

‘Tag!’ You’re it now.

Lena: Yeah. I don’t know how else we’re going to get through all this.

Lena, what we see… how mum is now… it’s just a base line. She’s already improved loads.

Lena: What? Since being found wandering the streets, wearing next to nothing?

Might get even better now she’s on the good shit.

Lena: Ha! What about you? Have you stayed clean?

Regrettably.

Lena: It’s done you the power of good then, taking care of her. And she’s finally seen a decent professional, so all in all…

Well done me!

Lena: Top job! Brilliant. What have you been doing for money? Tell me you’re not still debasing for bloody Fabian?

A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.

Lena: But that’s the point, isn’t it. I’ve never understood exactly what that is. What do you do for him? Like, are you some sort of sexual jester?

Think of it as performance art with a huge dressing up box. Would you like me to go into details?

Lena: Urgh, no…or do I?

Lighten up.

Lena: You should all know better.

You make it sound so sordid. It’s no big deal.

Lena: If you say so.

He’s a generous man who’s easily bored. I provide a service. It’s fun. No-one’s taking advantage.

Lena: The time you borrowed one of my dresses, what was all that about? You’re still my little brother!

You gotta get out of your comfort zone and do scary stuff. Come on, sis. More fun than a still life.

Lena: I think I’ll stick to coasting, thanks.

You know, all my life people have said how like mum I am. I can see that. I get it. How comforting it is to know that all this is round the corner. And probably a lot younger for me. Only there’ll be no-one around to do this bit. You can’t go through it all again.

Lena: Stop talking rubbish.

So, I’m gonna burn bright. Then boom. Outta here.

Lena: And there it is. There we have it, the addict’s excuse of choice. What a classic.

All this bullshit cynicism you’re so proud of, you think it protects you? It shrinks then traps you.

Lena: Namaste.

It’s so unhealthy.

Lena: Cool, cool. I’m unhealthy.

I haven’t got time for it. If this nightmare teaches us anything, it’s that we should be more open. Accept people as they are right here, right now.

Lena: Christ! Were you with Fabian when she got out?

No, I was checking in with Clare, seeing if she misses me. The whole thing was a bit of a downer, if I’m honest.

Lena: Where did mum think she was going?

She was trying to find the refugees. That’s all she kept saying, over and over. Proper loopy. It was like she was on some secret mission, bringing them to safety.

Lena: How… strangely maternal.

Enough, alright? We’ve agreed the cat infection was a huge blessing in disguise.

Lena: Yes. Yes, we have. What’s with all the bundles? Everything’s in elastic bands.

Didn’t she always do that?

Artist: Have you seen the shredder?

Still hasn’t arrived.

Artist: Let’s go to the shops and get one.

They’re shut. Tomorrow, maybe.

Lena: She really hates me. Have you noticed how her face contorts?

It’s more a tic. I’m not sure any of it’s attached to real feelings.

Lena: Not her mask, finally slipping?

What mask? She’s never hid the way she feels. Thinks it, says it.

Lena: I’d rather be in Japan.

I’ve got this covered. It’s easy! Go back. (Beat) Why did you leave?

Lena: I guess it was the language thing, mainly, and I got a bit lonely, I suppose… Then there was this guy I met online.

Go on…

(The artist returns with a small watering can and busies herself)

I think they’re good and dead, ma. You’ve overwatered. Why don’t we buy some new ones tomorrow along with that shredder? Come, take a seat. Lena’s about to tell us all about a torrid affair she’s having with a man she met online.

Artist: Have you seen my purse anywhere?

It’s here. See? Along with your notebook, mirror, and passport.

Artist: And my sketchbook. Have you taken it?

It’s over there with some chewed pencils, a tea-towel, and a packet of Rennie’s. Everything’s in perfect order.

Lena: I just got back from Japan. Remember?

Stop asking her that.

Lena: They were building a whole house at the time. But yes, they wanted your painting in pride of place.

That’s when you had the American agent. The good one.

Artist: And were you dressed like that? (Awkward beat.)

This man in Cornwall…

Lena: Runs a pottery studio. Drinks real ale. Has no more than two topics of conversation.

A step up from Colin.

Lena: Yes. I stupidly signed up for one of his courses. But the nice thing about Cornwall is I’m a solid 6, maybe even a 7.

And a quarter. Don’t do yourself down.

Artist: Stop trying to be brilliant. You’re fine.

High praise, lock that in.

Lena: What for?

A shredder. Some plants. A cuddly toy.

Artist: Some hand cream. My hands are very dry. How about you? Would you like anything?

I’m good.

(He hands Lena a fiver.)

Treat yourself to something nice.

(The artist rubs her hands, as if she wants to get rid of something.)

Come on now. Stop that, ma. You’ll hurt yourself.

Artist: Simon? Where’ve you been?

It’s me, mum. It’s not dad.

Artist: What’s the matter, honey?

Nothing. I’m good. We’re all just very tired.

Artist: Don’t lie.

(moving away) I’m not. I’m great. Everything’s wonderful. Shall I turn the telly on? Or would you like something to read? I’ll get you a book. An autobiography…

Artist: I know what will cheer you up (Artist starts to undress.)

Stop it, mum. I’m your son. It’s me.

Artist: My boy?

Stop it. Please.

Artist: Why are you being like this?

(pushing her into chair) Stop! It’s too much!

(The artist widens her legs and adjusts herself, pulls her skirt up).

Put it away.

(Horrified, he walks over and pulls her skirt down. Shakes her.)

Where is she? Where are you, mum? Why can’t this be over?