The Unfriend (NHB Modern Plays) by Steven Moffat

Author:Steven Moffat [Moffat, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788505789
Publisher: Nick Hern Books

ACT TWO

Peter and Debbie’s House

THE NEIGHBOUR is sitting on the sofa. He is very still and patient. Almost blank. Like he powers down when alone.

A long silence. Sits and sits. A pause of theatrically scary proportions.

Then:

We hear a car pass outside.

THE NEIGHBOUR turns his head to the window – keeps slowly turning his head as the car passes the house. The only action we’ve seen so far.

The car is gone. THE NEIGHBOUR faces front again. The stillness resumes. The silence. The sitting.

From upstairs. A creak of a floorboard.

THE NEIGHBOUR looks up. A toilet flushes. Creaks as someone upstairs walks across a floor. THE NEIGHBOUR’s head turns, following. A door closes. Stillness.

Distantly, a clock is chiming.

THE NEIGHBOUR looks at his watch, gives the slightest nod of satisfaction. Faces front again.

Now we hear a car draw up outside, stop, switch off. Footsteps as someone climbs out. A car door bangs.

We hear a voice from outside – PETER’s.

PETER (from off). No, I did. I don’t know why, I just did.

PETER coming through the door, talking on his mobile. He has two plastic bags – one clearly from a wine shop, the other from a bookshop. He seems breezy, cheerful – a happier PETER than we’re used to.

Maybe I was relaxed. Yeah, I think I’m actually relaxed. I drove for hours. Just for the hell of it. I went and saw Alistair – without texting first. Without texting. I mean when was the last time I even spoke to anyone without texting them in advance? It was crazy! It was like the sixties! I went to the park! Dropped in on Sheila, who’s fine by the way, sends her love. Dropped in on you, but you were out. Drove some more, bought wine, went to a bookshop – two hours there, two hours – came home.

(…)

I dunno. I told you, I think I’m relaxed.

(…)

It was just an impulse. I just went out to the garage, and there was the car and I thought, what the hell. Day off – why not just go somewhere? I mean, what was I even doing in the garage, I don’t know! No, hang on, it was boring-bastard next door. He came round asking about some photo he’d sent to me and I realised I’d left my phone in the car. And of course he insisted on waiting around while I went and… found…

Starting to dawn on him now.

…it.

Oh shit.

He slowly turns –

– and sees THE NEIGHBOUR, sitting there. Ever so patiently.

THE NEIGHBOUR. Did you manage to have a look at the photograph?

PETER (into phone). Sorry, got to go. Love you, Mum.

(Hangs up.) I am so, so, so sorry –

THE NEIGHBOUR. I understand.

PETER. I have no idea how I managed to do that. That was incredibly rude and thoughtless.

THE NEIGHBOUR. You’re a busy man.

As he says this, PETER is putting his bags on the table. One of them clinks – the unmistakeable sound of wine bottles.

You certainly like your wine, don’t you?

PETER. Well, yes, I suppose we do –

THE NEIGHBOUR.

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