Sydney & the Old Girl by Eugene O'Hare

Author:Eugene O'Hare
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2019-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Act Two

Lights slowly up to piano piece: ‘Monday Afternoon’. Sydney is doing a crossword in the armchair. Nell sits at the opposite end in her wheelchair eating a cob of sweetcorn and watching him. The rain is pelting down outside. Early evening, winter. Awful.

Sydney Four down. Animal.

Nell Rabbit.

Sydney Three letters.

Nell Oh. Can’t be rabbit then, isn’t it.

Sydney Not unless you’re spelling rabbit with three letters, Professor Hawking.

Nell (un-eager to please) Dog or cat then. Or pig. Or hen?

Sydney Or fox?

Nell Fox?

Sydney Yes, fox. That sly animal what creeps about in the bushes waiting to pounce and steal somebody else’s hen – which is guinea fowl and not quite an animal, as it goes.

Nell Depends what goes through X then.

Sydney Goes through?

Nell What word goes through X. There ain’t many words go through X.

Sydney In this puzzle there ain’t no word goes through this particular third letter so I’m sticking with fox for now, thank you.

Nell It might as well be rabbit – you can never finish those bloody crosswords. You only do them to wind yourself up. When are you going to piss off out with that bag anyway?

A very loud siren is suddenly heard. Sydney flings his pen and the newspaper into the air.

Sydney There he goes.

Siren stops.

Another day ruined.

Nell Go down The Peel then. Cheer yourself up.

Sydney You what?

Nell Why not, eh? Go down The Peel, get yourself your usual pint of shite and cheer yourself up.

Sydney Up? How can I cheer myself up? What are you talking about? Cheer myself? What do you mean?

Nell Oh, forget it.

Sydney You want me out for a while, do you?

Nell I said forget it!

Sydney You want me out. What you want me out for? Eh? What you mean by that?

A beat.

What do you mean?!

Nell I mean sod off and get yourself some bloody air! Don’t you know what you’re doing to me, Sydney? You’re suffocating me. Every look of you is making me gag. Right here at the back of me effing throat!

Sydney You conniving, devious, malignant old boot. I know what you’ve gone and done. I’ve just suddenly realised what you have gone and done . . .

He goes to the bottom drawer of the drinks cabinet. Opens it with a key he has hidden behind a plaster flap in the wall. Some of his brandy is missing. About a quarter of the bottle.

You thieving old soak! You couldn’t leave my Napoleon alone, could you? Couldn’t leave me brandy for twenty minutes. How you find that key, eh? You venomous old crap! Watching every stinking move I make! You wanted me out so as you could have another go at making a meal out of this blasted bottle, was that the plan? Well tough! It’s mine. (He drinks from it.) And bloody good it tastes too. I think I’ll have a dribble in a glass of it as a matter of fact – to warm my blood – since I ain’t going to the rotten Peel.

He pours a glass and sips as he wanders about the room.

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