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    Elephants (NHB Modern Plays)
    Elephants (NHB Modern Plays)
    Elephants (NHB Modern Plays)
    Ebook149 pages1 hour

    Elephants (NHB Modern Plays)

    By Rose Heiney

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    About this ebook

    Rose Heiney's debut play Elephants is a sharp black comedy with a tender heart that explores the paths we take in life and their repercussions on the people we love most.
    5.53 p.m. Christmas Eve. Richard and Sally are waiting for their friends and family to join in the festivities - the tree is decorated, the wine is mulling, the presents are wrapped. But behind this shiny facade, nothing is quite right - and as cracks start appearing, attempts to paper over them make for an explosive evening of revelations and dark secrets exposed.
    Elephants premiered at Hampstead Downstairs in December 2014 in a production directed by Tamara Harvey.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNick Hern Books
    Release dateDec 4, 2014
    ISBN9781780015545
    Elephants (NHB Modern Plays)
    Author

    Rose Heiney

    Rose Heiney is a screenwriter, novelist and playwright. Her stage plays include Original Death Rabbit (Jermyn Street Theatre, London, 2019) and Elephants (Hampstead Theatre, 2014). She has developed original comedy projects for television with Objective Productions and the BBC, as well as writing on shows such as Miranda and Fresh Meat. She has written regularly for radio. Her first radio play Home Alone transmitted in spring 2013 starring Daisy Haggard. An earlier version of Original Death Rabbit was broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in 2016 starring Jessie Cave. Her first novel, The Days of Judy B, was published in 2008 and was nominated for The Times/South Bank Show Breakthrough Award.

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      Book preview

      Elephants (NHB Modern Plays) - Rose Heiney

      Rose Heiney

      ELEPHANTS

      NICK HERN BOOKS

      London

      www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

      Contents

      Title Page

      Original Production

      Characters

      Elephants

      About the Author

      Copyright and Performing Rights Information

      Elephants was first performed at Hampstead Theatre Downstairs, London, on 11 December 2014. The cast was as follows:

      Characters

      RICHARD, mid-fifties

      SALLY, mid-fifties

      DICK, early fifties

      VALERIE, early fifties

      LIZZY, twenty-two

      DAISY, nineteen

      CHRISTOPHER, nineteen

      This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

      ACT ONE

      Scene One

      Christmas Eve. Living room/kitchen.

      The solo at the beginning of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’. A gorgeous, cosy, family home – low beams, a large, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Open fireplace. Decorations everywhere, four stockings hanging by the fire. A little carved wooden nativity scene on the mantelpiece. Picture-perfect Christmas.

      There are three large-ish, framed photos on the mantelpiece. An elderly woman, a blond, good-looking nineteen-year-old boy, and a head-and-shoulders portrait of a black-and-white cat.

      The living room extends into the kitchen – they’re separated by a wall but we can see both. On the other side of the room, a door leading out into the porch. Adjacent to that, a door which leads upstairs.

      It’s dark outside.

      RICHARD is slumped in a chair in the living room. He’s halfway through a bottle of red wine, and is watching telly. The news.

      NEWSREADER (on telly). A nineteen-year-old man has been stabbed to death in Trafalgar Square, on one of the busiest shopping days in the capital’s calendar. Twelve people have been arrested in connection with the stabbing. We’ll now go live to our reporter on the scene. Kelly, can you tell us what’s happening – ?

      SALLY, in an apron, comes in, carrying a portable pet cage. She’s also wearing red Crocs with a white-fur trim. She puts the cage down, goes over to RICHARD and kisses him on the top of the head. Sees what he’s watching on telly.

      REPORTER (on telly). Thanks, Peter. I’m here in Trafalgar Square, where Christmas revellers were shocked this afternoon when a fight broke out between what appear to have been two opposing groups of youths –

      SALLY. Don’t watch that.

      RICHARD turns off the telly via remote control. SALLY looks at the wine.

      I’m doing mull, you know.

      RICHARD. Yes. I’m just… bracing myself for company.

      SALLY. Well, I hope you’re good and braced. Because I’d give them –

      RICHARD looks at his watch.

      RICHARD. Nine minutes. Six-ish, we said? 5:53 now. They’ll have parked the car at the end of the drive at 5:50, and turned the headlights off so we can’t see them. He’ll be looking at his watch.

      SALLY. Richard…

      RICHARD. Yes. ‘5:53. We’ll move off up the drive at 5:58 at a steady pace, Main House ETA, 6:02. Punctual, but not too punctual.’

      SALLY. They’re easy guests. They’re on our wavelength. They’ll be… perfect. And they’ve driven all the way from Devon so the least you can do is be nice.

      RICHARD gets up, goes over to the drinks cabinet. He puts down his wine glass and gets himself another drink – bit of whisky, bit of ginger wine.

      RICHARD. Yes. No. You’re right. Perfect. Never a moment’s bother from Valerie and Dick. ‘Hullo, we’re Valerie and Dick.’ Why does he say it like that? ‘Hullo.’ ‘H–U–L–LO.’ ‘Hullo.’ Like a vicar in a sitcom.

      RICHARD makes a noise, a sort of small, dismissive, ‘huh’.

      SALLY approaches him with the pet basket. RICHARD peers into the basket, holding his drink.

      Hullo.

      SALLY. I thought you might want to give Mr Biscuits a kiss.

      RICHARD. Why on earth would I want to do that?

      SALLY. Well, he can’t come out till Boxing Day now.

      RICHARD. I really don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.

      SALLY. Kittens are easily overwhelmed by company. If we put too much pressure on him at this stage, he may never trust us again.

      RICHARD. And what a terrible terrible tragedy that would be.

      SALLY. It’s for Daisy. We got him for Daisy.

      RICHARD. Yes, when’s she coming? Shouldn’t she be here?

      SALLY. Any minute. There was a hold-up. She emailed.

      SALLY takes her phone out of her pocket, scrolls down the find the email, and gives it to RICHARD. He looks at the phone. Squints.

      RICHARD. Can’t read it.

      SALLY. Drunk.

      RICHARD. Blind! Not drunk. Old and blind. Read it to me.

      SALLY takes back the phone, and reads him the email. RICHARD sits down with his new drink.

      SALLY (reading). ‘Mum. I hope that all’s well with you. I’ve been advised to email you before departure, to let you know how things have been going. As you know, I opted for no contact during my stay here, as my team and I agreed that my Family of Origin Issues were very much the cause of my incident. I say that with no accusation whatsoever. The issues are within me, you did not cause them, you cannot control them, and you cannot cure them. They are mine and mine alone. But I wanted to get that straight. I really hope that this Christmas you, me and Dad can all detach from one another with love. Obviously we can’t literally detach, as we’ll be spending quite a lot of time together, enjoying the festivities. But emotionally, I hope that we can avoid becoming enmeshed – ’

      RICHARD. What the fuck – ?

      SALLY. Just let me finish. (Reads.) ‘I hope that we can avoid becoming enmeshed in one another’s grief, whilst meeting our own needs and honouring our boundaried interconnectedness, thus avoiding the sort of behaviour which quite frankly got me into this mess in the first place. Last Christmas was obviously challenging, to say the least, and there’s obviously nothing to be done about that. We must simply live compassionately through the consequences of those dark, dark days, appreciating the present and honouring the future as best we can.’

      RICHARD. Who does she think she is, the Bishop of London?

      SALLY (reads). ‘I am of course ambivalent about our choosing to celebrate at all this year. But as discussed, I am going to compromise, because compromise is necessary in this life. However, I sincerely hope that this year’s Christmas tree won’t have a star on the top. Decorations I can live with, but the star would be a bridge too far I think. Likewise, I hope that we can focus lovingly on intimacy-slash-truth – I certainly intend-slash-hope to be able to do so. I plan on staying at home from tonight – the twenty-fourth – until the morning of the twenty-seventh at the latest. I regret that I can’t stay longer, but as you know I’m undergoing an intense recovery process. This Christmas is very much a trial period for me within the

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