The Sweet Science of Bruising (NHB Modern Plays) by Joy Wilkinson

Author:Joy Wilkinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nick Hern Books

Scene Twelve

An alleyway in Southwark. ANNA in her cape, exhilarated by the fight she’s just seen with NANCY.

ANNA. Did you see them, Nancy?

NANCY. Yes, my lady.

ANNA. Have you ever seen women like that?

NANCY. Yes, my lady.

ANNA. I thought I might faint – I thought I really ought to faint – but then I stopped thinking and realised – I didn’t feel like fainting at all. I felt like – like them!

She laughs, giddy. NANCY looks around, on edge.

NANCY. Have you seen enough, my lady? We’d better be getting back home.

ANNA. I need you to speak to that man who was in the ring. Who is he?

NANCY (wary). The referee – and landlord. Why would I need to speak to him?

ANNA. To ask how I might get to do it.

Beat – her sense of release at saying it aloud. NANCY’s horror.

NANCY. You can’t – you’ll get killed. I’d never tell, but the master’s bound to find out.

ANNA. That’s why I need to learn to fight. You think if I do nothing, he’ll treat me better? Everything will be nice?

NANCY. No, but – together we can manage.

ANNA. You think you hear everything, Nancy? How can you hear when my face is pressed into a pillow?

A different kind of horror. And fear.

NANCY. We shouldn’t be speaking of this.

ANNA. I used to think that he loved me so much, he couldn’t help it. That I loved him so much, I could bear it. And if I died, that would be the most romantic ending there could be. But that’s not love, is it?

NANCY. I wouldn’t know about that.

ANNA. You’re lucky. You can work for a living and marry who you choose and be – exactly who you are.

NANCY. There’s nothing romantic about my life, I promise you. And nothing romantic about you getting into that ring.

ANNA. Good. Because I’ve had it with romance. Those flowers are already dead when you put them in water. They don’t want to be picked and arranged and left to slowly rot. They want to live.

The light is back in her eyes. NANCY shakes her head.

NANCY. That still sounds pretty romantic, the way you put it.

ANNA (a little laugh). Perhaps… (Then determination.) Will you speak to the referee, Nancy, or shall I?

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