Abigail's Party Page 7

  BEVERLY: All right, Laurence.

  [Pause. He lets go. Pause.]

  LAURENCE: Sorry about that.

  ANGELA: Oh, that’s all right. We’re all getting a little bit merry, aren’t we? And it’s nice for us to have a chance to enjoy ourselves, ’cos since the move, we’ve hardly been out.

  [Susan gets up.]

  BEVERLY: Where are you going, Sue?!

  SUSAN: Er … I’m just going to the toilet.

  BEVERLY: You don’t feel sick again, do you?

  SUSAN: No, I’m fine, thank you.

  ANGELA: D’you want me to come with you?

  SUSAN [going]: No, thank you.

  [Exit Susan.]

  BEVERLY: Give us your glass, Ang. I’ll give you a little top-up.

  ANGELA: You see, Sue’s been vomiting up her gin, and while you were away, I had to take her to the lavatory.

  BEVERLY [giving drink]: Ang.

  ANGELA: Thanks.

  BEVERLY: Cheers, everyone. Cheers!

  ANGELA: Cheers!

  LAURENCE: Cheers!

  TONY [miming his glass]: Cheers!

  BEVERLY: Oh, I’m sorry, Tone, I forgot your light ale, didn’t I? I do apologize.

  LAURENCE: I’ll get it.

  BEVERLY: Thank you, Laurence! [Beverly sits. Pause.] Ang: shall we have a little dance?

  ANGELA: Yeah. Be nice.

  BEVERLY: Tone: d’you fancy a little dance?

  TONY: Yeah, I don’t mind.

  BEVERLY: Yeah?

  LAURENCE: There’s no room to dance in here, Beverly.

  BEVERLY: Laurence, if I’d wanted somebody to put a damper on the idea, I would have asked you first, okay? Come on, Ang: give us a hand moving the couch. Come on.

  [Laurence gives Tony his drink.]

  TONY: Ta.

  [Beverly and Angela prepare to move the couch.]

  BEVERLY: Got it?

  [The men take over.]

  ANGELA: I’ll take this end.

  LAURENCE: No, you just sit down.

  BEVERLY: Cheers, Tone.

  TONY: You got it, Laurence?

  LAURENCE: Yes.

  [Tony and Laurence pick it up. Laurence drops his end.]

  BEVERLY: Oh, for Christ’s sake, Laurence!

  LAURENCE: Don’t interfere, Beverly. You ready?

  TONY: Where d’you want to put it?

  LAURENCE [to Beverly]: Well, where d’you want it?

  BEVERLY: Oh, for God’s sake: just put it back there!

  LAURENCE: Just back.

  [Tony and Laurence move the couch.]

  BEVERLY: Ang, I’ve got this fantastic record I’m gonna play for us, right? Just hang on a sec. Now, this record, Ang, it turns my husband on, and when he hears it, he cannot resist my charms.

  [Beverly proceeds to put on the record (Sam-The Man-Taylor & His Orchestra, or any similar ‘smoochy’ music). During this:]

  ANGELA: They’re still enjoying themselves down there, aren’t they?

  TONY: Yes.

  ANGELA: What were they getting up to?

  TONY: Nothing much.

  BEVERLY: Ready, Ang?

  ANGELA: Mmm.

  [The music starts.]

  BEVERLY: Fantastic, isn’t it? Oh, I’m sorry, Laurence, is it too loud for you, my darling? I do apologize. I’ll turn it down. Because we don’t want to upset him, do we, Ang? (She turns down the volume.) Is that better? Fancy a little dance, Tone?

  ANGELA: Dance with Beverly.

  TONY: Perhaps Laurence’d like to dance?

  BEVERLY: No, I don’t think he would, actually. Come on, Tone: have a little dance, go on. [Tony gets up and dances with Beverly. Angela and Laurence remain seated. After a short while, enter Susan.] You all right, Sue?

  SUSAN: Yes. Fine, thank you.

  [Susan sits. Pause. Beverly and Tony continue to dance.]

  BEVERLY: You don’t mind me mauling your husband, do you, Ang?

  ANGELA: No, you go ahead.

  [Pause.]

  TONY: Go on – dance with Laurence.

  ANGELA: No, I can’t.

  TONY: ’Course you can: get up and dance!

  BEVERLY: Don’t worry, Ang – you’ll be quite safe with Laurence. He won’t rape you.

  [Angela gets up.]

  ANGELA: Would you like to dance?

  LAURENCE [getting up]: Surely, if you’d like to.

  [Laurence places his glass on the coffee-table, and joins Angela; just as he reaches her, she starts ‘bopping’, which is inappropriate, as the music is ‘smoochy’, and Beverly and Tony are ‘smooching’.

  Laurence musters the vague gesture of a ‘bop’.]

  ANGELA [whilst dancing]: I’m not very good at these slow dances.

  LAURENCE: No.

  ANGELA: I’m better at this sort. [Demonstrates a quick ‘bop’.] Would you like to dance with us?

  SUSAN: Oh. No, thank you.

  ANGELA: Come on – we can all three dance together!

  SUSAN: No, really, I’m fine, thank you.

  [The dancing continues until the track ends.]

  LAURENCE [shaking Angela’s hand]: Thank you.

  ANGELA: Laurence was shaking my hand!

  BEVERLY: Was he? Christ, he’ll be shaking mine next. Now who’d like a drink? Ang?

  ANGELA: Oh – please!

  BEVERLY: Never say no! Tone, would you like a drink?

  TONY: No, thanks, I’m all right.

  BEVERLY: How about you, Sue?

  SUSAN: No, thank you.

  BEVERLY: Are you sure?

  SUSAN: Yes.

  BEVERLY: Yeah!

  ANGELA: He’s a good dancer, isn’t he?

  BEVERLY: He’s fantastic.

  ANGELA: I never knew you could dance so well. We don’t usually dance like that, do we?

  TONY: No.

  BEVERLY [giving drink]: Ang!

  ANGELA: Thanks.

  BEVERLY: Cheers, everyone, cheers!

  SUSAN [getting soda-water]: Cheers.

  BEVERLY: Darling, why don’t you dance with Sue?

  LAURENCE: I really don’t think Sue wants to dance, thanks very much. Darling.

  BEVERLY: Then why don’t you ask her, Laurence?

  [Pause. Then Laurence gets up and crosses to Sue.]

  LAURENCE: Sue, would you like to dance?

  SUSAN: Er, no, thank you.

  LAURENCE: There you are – Sue doesn’t want to dance!

  BEVERLY: Of course she wants to dance! Go on, Sue, have a little dance with Laurence. Enjoy yourself, go on – have a little dance.

  LAURENCE: Would you like to, Sue?

  SUSAN: All right.

  LAURENCE: I’ll take your glass for you.

  [Laurence and Susan embrace formally. Beverly rejoins Tony.]

  BEVERLY: Come on, Tone.

  [Beverly and Tony go into a more intimate embrace than previously.]

  BEVERLY: Ang – d’you wanna dance with Tone?

  ANGELA: No: you’re all right.

  [Pause: the dancing continues.]

  LAURENCE: Are you going on holiday this year, Sue?

  SUSAN: I hope so.

  LAURENCE: Expensive business, holidays.

  SUSAN: Yes.

  LAURENCE: D’you know Paris?

  SUSAN: A little.

  LAURENCE: Oh. You’ve been there?

  SUSAN: Yes. A long time ago. Have you?

  LAURENCE: No. We’re hoping to get there.

  [Pause.]

  SUSAN: I like Paris.

  LAURENCE: Oh, yes … Montmartre by night, the Champs Elysées, boulevard cafés …

  [When the track ends, they stop dancing, Laurence shakes Susan’s hand briskly and formally.]

  Thank you.

  BEVERLY [to Tony]: Thanks very much.

  TONY: Ta.

  [They all drift to seats except Tony. The empty seat is now between Susan and Beverly on the sofa.]

  BEVERLY: D’you wanna sit down, Tone?

  TONY: Ta.

  BEVERLY: Ang, do u
s a favour, throw us me fags. Would you, please? [Angela throws the cigarettes. Tony picks them up and gives them to Beverly.] Cheers, Tone. [Tony leans back. The bar-flap now protrudes over the back of the sofa.]

  SUSAN: Mind your head.

  ANGELA: It’s too big.

  TONY: What?

  ANGELA: It’s too big.

  TONY: What is?

  ANGELA: Your head.

  TONY: Give it a rest!

  [Pause.]

  TONY: Feeling better now, are you?

  SUSAN: Oh – much. Thank you.

  TONY: Good.

  [Pause.]

  BEVERLY: Ang, d’you want a cigarette?

  ANGELA: Oh, I would. Can I have a cigarette?

  TONY: D’you want one?

  ANGELA: I’d love one.

  TONY: Why don’t you have one, then?

  [Beverly throws a cigarette across to Angela. She lights it.]

  BEVERLY: Ang, do us a favour – give us a light, would you, please?

  [Angela goes over to light Beverly’s cigarette. She returns.]

  ANGELA: You see, once you’ve had one cigarette, you want to keep on smoking, don’t you?

  BEVERLY: This is it, yeah.

  SUSAN: What sort of work d’you do?

  TONY: I’m in computers.

  ANGELA: He’s an operator.

  BEVERLY: Still play football, Tone?

  TONY: It’s not the firm’s team, and I’ve only played twice!

  ANGELA: He looks so funny in his shorts!

  BEVERLY: Why d’you give it up?

  TONY: Things didn’t work out.

  ANGELA: You’ve got footballer’s legs, though, haven’t you?

  BEVERLY: Has he? Have you? Let’s have a little look. Oh, yeah, so he has. I like footballer’s legs, actually – they’re nice and muscly, aren’t they? Can’t stand blokes with skinny legs, Ang, can you? Puts you off d’you know what I mean?

  LAURENCE: Talking of Paris, Sue, do you like Art?

  SUSAN: Er – yes.

  LAURENCE: So do I. Beverly doesn’t. Of course, Paris is the centre of the Art World. D’you like Van Gogh?

  SUSAN: Yes.

  LAURENCE [crossing the room]: This is a Van Gogh.

  SUSAN: Yes.

  LAURENCE: They called him a Post-Impressionist, but to my mind he was more of a symbolist. D’you like the Impressionists?

  SUSAN: Yes.

  LAURENCE: Oh, you do? That’s good. Fine. Fine.

  [He crosses back to his seat. Sits.]

  BEVERLY: You all right, Tone?

  TONY: Yeah!

  BEVERLY: Great.

  LAURENCE: Of course, you know, Van Gogh was a very unstable man. Not only did he cut his ear off and leave it in a brothel, he also ate paint, and he shot himself.

  BEVERLY: Thank you, Laurence! We don’t want all the gory details.

  LAURENCE: I’m talking to Sue, and Sue is interested in these things.

  [He rushes across the room, and takes the Van Gogh off the wall.]

  LAURENCE: This is a picture of his chair in the corner of his room at Arles. It wasn’t actually yellow, no, no, no: he painted it yellow because yellow symbolized so much for him.

  BEVERLY [turning record off]: Shall we liven things up a bit?

  BEVERLY: Yeah?

  LAURENCE: Do you like Art?

  ANGELA: Yes!

  LAURENCE: Good. This is a Lowry! Now, did you know, his father was an Estate Agent?

  ANGELA: Oh.

  BEVERLY: For Christ’s sake, Laurence, give it a rest!

  LAURENCE: Give what a rest?

  BEVERLY: Nobody is interested.

  LAURENCE: Oh, yes, they are!

  BEVERLY: Oh, no, they’re not!

  LAURENCE: D’you know something, Beverly? You’re ignorant?

  BEVERLY: Oh, so I’m ignorant, now, am I?

  LAURENCE: Now? You always have been!

  BEVERLY: It’s not a question of ignorance, Laurence, it’s a question of taste!

  LAURENCE: Taste! And what would you know about taste?

  BEVERLY: The trouble with you, Laurence, is if somebody doesn’t happen to like what you like, then you say that they’ve got no taste!

  LAURENCE: That’s rubbish!

  BEVERLY: Oh, is it rubbish?

  LAURENCE: Yes!

  BEVERLY: Then what about that picture I’ve got upstairs in the bedroom, then?

  LAURENCE: That is cheap, pornographic trash!

  BEVERLY: Laurence, just because a picture happens to be erotic, it doesn’t mean it’s pornographic.

  LAURENCE: Oh, shut up, Beverly!!

  [Laurence rushes to the kitchen. During the following he is pouring and drinking a glass of water.]

  BEVERLY [continuing immediately]: I’ve got this fabulous picture, right, it’s really beautiful; I brought it home, and he wouldn’t let me put it up in here, oh, no: I had to hang it in the bedroom!

  LAURENCE [from kitchen]: If I had my way it would be in the dustbin!

  BEVERLY: Yeah, well, you’re dead from the waist down anyway, let’s face it!

  ANGELA: Can I see it?

  BEVERLY: D’you wanna see it, Ang?

  ANGELA: Oh, yes.

  TONY [rising]: Actually, Angela’s got to be getting up early in the morning for work, so I think we ought to be going now.

  SUSAN [rising]: Yes, I think I ought to be getting along …

  TONY: You can see the picture another time.

  ANGELA: We don’t have to go early just ’cos of me.

  BEVERLY: You sure, Ang?

  ANGELA: Yeah, I’ll be all right!

  LAURENCE [having joined the others]: She’s got to get up in the morning!

  BEVERLY: Oh, shut up, Laurence!

  LAURENCE: Don’t tell me to shut up!

  TONY: Angela: COAT!!

  ANGELA: No, it’s all right.

  SUSAN: I really think I ought to be going.

  BEVERLY: Now don’t be silly, Sue, because we haven’t had a cup of coffee yet – now sit down.

  [Exit Beverly.]

  LAURENCE [following her]: Beverly!

  ANGELA [to Susan]: We’re going soon, anyway.

  [The following offstage:]

  LAURENCE: Beverly, don’t bring that picture downstairs!

  BEVERLY: Oh, sod off, Laurence!

  LAURENCE: Beverly!

  BEVERLY: Drop dead!!

  TONY [to Angela]: You just can’t keep your big mouth shut, can you? GET UP!!

  [Angela gets up. Enter Laurence quickly. Goes to the stereo, looks for and finds a record, which he puts on the turntable. Then he turns on the machine. During the pause before the music actually starts:]

  LAURENCE: Sit down – please!

  [He sits. Angela sits. Susan sits. Tony does not sit. Laurence jumps up, goes to look at the record, walks towards the door, stops, looks at Tony, sits, waits. The music starts: Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, the first movement.

  Laurence now suffers a heart attack. He tries to suppress it for a time, as it approaches, whilst the others look on, confused. Then, a spasm, and he passes out. Angela, Susan and Tony go over to him during following.]

  ANGELA: Laurence? Laurence!

  SUSAN: What’s the matter?

  TONY: What’s wrong with him, Ang?

  ANGELA: Just a minute.

  [Angela is examining Laurence: she loosens his tie.]

  TONY: Ang, what’s wrong with him?

  ANGELA: I don’t know yet!

  [Angela examines Laurence’s eyes.]

  Tony, can you help me get him on the floor? [Angela and Tony move Laurence, helped by Susan. Enter Beverly, displaying picture The Wings of Love by Stephen Pearson. Throughout the following, Angela monitors Laurence’s pulse.] Get me something for his head. And get his feet up higher. No, that’s too big.

  BEVERLY: What’s going on? What’s the matter with him? Mind, Sue.

  Laurence! What’s happened, Ang, has he passed out? Laurence!

  SUSAN: Tony, can you lift his fe
et?

  BEVERLY: Tony!

  [Tony and Susan see to Laurence’s feet.]

  Sue, go and get him a glass of water, quickly, please. Now, Laurence, come on, you’re all right, come on, Laurence, Laurence!

  ANGELA: No, leave him.

  TONY: Leave him.

  BEVERLY: Actually, Angela, he happens to be my husband, all right?

  ANGELA: Yeah, but we’ve got to let him breathe.

  BEVERLY: Yeah, well, he is breathing, for Christ’s sake.

  TONY: Ambulance?

  ANGELA: Yes!

  SUSAN: Beverly, leave him alone!

  BEVERLY: All right, then, Angela, what is the matter with him?

  ANGELA: I think he’s had a heart attack.

  TONY: Where’s your phone?

  BEVERLY: A heart attack, Ang?

  TONY: Where’s your phone?

  BEVERLY: Under the bar. Ang, are you sure?

  ANGELA: He hasn’t got false teeth, has he?

  BEVERLY: No, of course he hasn’t got false teeth! Ang, look his lips are going all blue, look.

  ANGELA: Don’t worry.

  BEVERLY: Ang, his hands are going freezing.

  ANGELA [to Susan]: Can you get him a blanket or something to keep him warm?

  [Exit Susan.]

  BEVERLY: Laurence … Now, Laurence. Can he hear me, d’you think, Ang?

  ANGELA: Yes.

  BEVERLY: Yeah. Laurence, Laurence.

  ANGELA: No, leave him, he’s got to lie still!

  BEVERLY: Oh, Christ, Ang!

  [Beverly gets up, goes to the bar, and pours herself a brandy.]

  ANGELA: Have you got through yet?

  TONY: I’m trying to get a bloody line.

  [Susan has come back, with a duvet. She covers Laurence with it.]

  BEVERLY: Ang, his face is going all blue, look!

  TONY: Ambulance.

  ANGELA: Tell them it’s urgent.

  TONY: What? Someone turn that fucking record off! Er – 503-9041.

  [Susan turns off the record.]

  BEVERLY: Ang, Ang. Listen to that noise he’s making.

  TONY: Hullo, er, could we have an ambulance, please? [Pause.] What’s the number of your house? What’s the number of your HOUSE?!

  SUSAN: Er – thirteen!

  BEVERLY: Thirteen, thirteen.

  TONY: 13, Richmond Road.

  [For the rest of the telephone conversation that follows, Tony and Beverly can overlap slightly.]

  BEVERLY: Angela, I told him this would happen.

  TONY: Er, he’s had a heart attack.

  BEVERLY: I said to him, Laurence, you’re going to have a heart attack.

  TONY: 503–9041.