Fast Labour (NHB Modern Plays) by Steve Waters

Author:Steve Waters [Waters, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780013565
Publisher: Nick Hern Books

ACT THREE

Scene One

A conservatory opening out onto a garden in a new house on the outskirts of King’s Lynn; the following autumn. The room is large, chiefly empty; an entrance right leading into the house is an open arch masked by plastic; there’s a halogen light lighting the spaces on both sides; through the gap an equally vacant living room is partially evident; stage left French windows open out onto a garden; there are sounds of work going on outside. Upstage, a trestle table with a row of bottles – whisky, vodka, champagne, beer, glasses. Next to it a camping table with a tablecloth loaded with Ukrainian food: smoked sausages, sour cream, salads, cold pancakes. Boxes of unpacked IKEA flat-pack furniture are draped in the corner under a sheet. A naked lightbulb hangs from the ceiling; wiring hangs from unplastered walls. There are some perfunctory attempts at decoration; a reproduction of an Ikon with streamers round it on the back wall; a large sheet of designer’s paper with a groundplan of the house and elsewhere the garden. It’s 7. 30 in the evening.

VICTOR, in a new suit, no tie, stands with his wife, TANYA, opening up a bottle of champagne, serving drinks to ALEXEI and ANITA, who are dressed casually, as if caught in the middle of an activity; ALEXEI’s hand is bandaged.

VICTOR. Champagne from Ukraine!

TANYA. From Yalta.

VICTOR. It’s hot in Yalta. Vines flourish. One for Andrius? Where is he?

ALEXEI. Said he’d be here seven, seven-thirty.

VICTOR. Can’t hold toast, it’ll go flat. Anita, toast.

TANYA. You ask her?

ANITA. I’d prefer not to.

TANYA. Wish English was better. My, my –

ANITA. Better than my Russian.

TANYA. You learn Russian? Why?

Why English woman speak Russian?

ANITA. I’m Scottish, actually. From Scotland.

Pause.

VICTOR. Okay, I make toast. To coming home.

TANYA. Good.

ALEXEI. Very good.

They drink, rather meditatively. They speak in Russian. ANITA wanders off into the garden.

VICTOR. We met in Yalta.

TANYA. You know Crimea, Alexei?

ALEXEI. No. I went to Odessa once.

TANYA. Yalta; and I was young, naïve. You were slim.

VICTOR. The Greek introduced us.

TANYA. Ah, the Greek, okay. Andreas.

VICTOR. He had this fishing smack, used to set out at night, cross the Black Sea, down to Turkey –

TANYA. – come back with denims, videos, cigarettes –

VICTOR. Marlboros – nobody smoked Marlboros in Ukraine then, did they – ?

TANYA. Half in Victor’s Lada, half in bags on trains up to Kiev, to Lviv, to Kharkiv –

VICTOR. She used to flog them on the night train to Kiev –

TANYA. Yes, God, yes, on the night train. Dodging inspectors, bribing the carriage ladies –

VICTOR (laughs). The Greek was obsessed with Led Zep. Pirate CDs from Germany; Zep One, Two, Three, Four –

TANYA. ‘Houses of the Holy’, ‘Physical Graffiti’ –

VICTOR. Exactly – what was it: ‘The Song Remains the Same’.

Pause.

Another life.

TANYA. Hard times.

ALEXEI. Living on barter.

VICTOR. You could make money but you had to be fast.

TANYA. ‘Primitive Accumulation.’

VICTOR. No Marxist bollocks, please, Tanjevska.

ALEXEI. You don’t like Marx?

VICTOR. My old man used to spout Marx at me, after a good long bender: ‘To each according to their needs, lad.

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