4 Plays by Hedvar Anbar
PERSONAL SERVICES
WES: We've got a new client, who I think you'll find interesting. If
you've time to meet her.
SCOTT: You know me. Always got time to meet interesting women.
WES: (picks up a photograph and a computer printout and hands them to
SCOTT.) The photos aren't as sharp as they used to be.
SCOTT: You might need to get the focus realigned. Or the sensor
cleaned.
WES: A looker.
SCOTT: (looks at photo.) You can say that again. (Scans printout.)
Thirty four ... Serbia ... acrobat ... Is that a cross?
WES: She's a churchgoer. I told her - like I always do even though
it's highlighted in the literature - that we cater for people of all
faiths and no faith. Her face fell and she dithered for a bit but she
decided to go ahead.
SCOTT: If you will call yourselves the Christian Marriage Bureau.
WES: I didn't choose to be called Wesley Christian. (Pause.) Well?
SCOTT: Yeah.
WES: What did I tell you?
SCOTT: She really is something. Don't let on that I'm a non-believer.
WES: Mum's the word. And by the time she finds out she might be too
smitten to care. You might be smitten too and then neither of you will
need any more introductions.
SCOTT: Forget it. You know me. Love 'em an' leave 'em.
WES: Love 'Em and Leave 'Em. 1927, Frank Tuttle with Louise Brooks.
But mark my words Scott, you'll get caught eventually.
SCOTT: No-one could ever take the place of my dear Mary.
WES: I know. I know. (He makes a note.) I'll send her your details.
SCOTT: I can think of no better remedy for the autumn blues than a
hot-blooded Serbian acrobat. Except perhaps a long holiday somewhere
nice and warm, like Mexico or Morocco. Somewhere I can stretch out on
the beach with an endless supply of ice cream and alcohol surrounded
by nubile sun worshippers.
WES: You haven't told me how you got on with your last introduction.
SCOTT: Jody Wilson. Haven't I?
WES: Last time we met you were excited about a Valkyrie with an
umbrella fetish. And the time before that you were enamoured of a
model who shaved her head and slept with her pet gerbil.
SCOTT: Both pre-Jody. My friend, have I got a tale for you!
WES: I'm all ears.
SCOTT: How about an amble in the direction of the Green Unicorn?
WES: Can't. I'm on my own. I have to hang round till seven in case a
client ...
SCOTT: Even on Fridays?
WES: Especially on Fridays. It's the prospect of another weekend on
their own, after they've given up on Tinder and all the other online
sites, that pushes them to try our “personal service tailored to
clients' individual needs”. At least that's the theory.
SCOTT: And in practice?
WES: We didn't even cover the running expenses last month.
SCOTT: Philanthropists, spending your own money to / serve humanity.
WES: Borrowed money my friend.
SCOTT: Worser and worser. Why persist?
WES: Ellie's convinced the pendulum will swing the other way and
people will start looking for individual attention again. I tell her
we should give up but she won't hear of it. And I have to admit - you
may laugh - I really do feel that I'm helping the world go round. I
get a real buzz when we make a match.
SCOTT: What's the score so far this year?
WES: There's been a few. Don't know the exact tally. They don't always
tell us. And I don't know whether to believe the ones that do tell us.
They seem so unlikely. I wish I understood better what factors are at
work when people make the choices they make ... and how things turn
out afterwards. For example the effect of prior expectations on the
success of a marriage.
SCOTT: You could offer an annual maintenance check.
WES: I might do just that one day. Have I told you? I'm taking a
course in relationship counselling, for when the business folds.
SCOTT: A good excuse for getting to hear more bedroom secrets. You,
nosy parker, you. You, listening Tom, you.
SCENES FROM A SINGLETONS MEETUP
RON: Hello again.
GREG: Have we encountered one another before?
RON: Yes. You're Sebastian and you're a sauna attendant.
GREG: Wrong on both counts.
RON: I know. But I believe in starting on the wrong foot. That way
things can only get better. (Laughs too loudly.) I'm Ron and I'm a
marketing consultant.
GREG: Ron as in Ronald?
RON: As in Cameron.
GREG: Ah! Fine old Gaelic name. Meaning, as you undoubtedly know,
'crooked nose'.
RON: Pull the other nostril.
GREG: It does. Really.
RON: If you say so.
GREG: Greg as in Gregory. (They shake hands.)
RON: And you're ... ?
GREG: A funeral director.
RON: You're not serious?
GREG: I am.
RON : Then you've come to the wrong place. This is a singles
get-together, not a wake. (Laughs.) Bet your occupation puts you at a
disadvantage at parties, a grave disadvantage. (Laughs.)
GREG: I wouldn't know. I'm not much of a partygoer.
RON: Take my advice: keep it well buried. (Laughs.) It'll kill your
chances with the ladies. (Laughs.) Send your romantic ambitions up in
smoke. (Laughs.) Say you're in advertising. Or a lawyer. Or a pilot.
All guaranteed to pull the ladies in. Mark my words.
RON and GREG continue chatting inaudibly.
GISELLE: I do like your outfit. Where did you get it?
ALEXA: Don't ask. (Pause.) If you must know it's not mine. It's
borrowed. From Harrods.
GISELLE: They've a hire department?
ALEXA: I wouldn't know. I “bought” this today and I'll return it
“unused” first thing in the morning. It's my first time at Harrods but
I've done it loads at John Lewis and M&S. Don't look so shocked. You
have to know all the tricks when you're a single mum living off
benefits.
ALEXA and GISELLE continue chatting inaudibly.
RON: My problem is that I haven't got my own place. The ladies aren't
turned on by a bloke who lives with his old mum - may she stay out of
your clutches for many years to come. (Laughs.)
GREG: I thought marketing consultancy was a lucrative business.
RON: It takes time to get back in the swim when you've been away for a
while.
GREG: Where were you? Somewhere exotic?
RON: Hardly. Detained at Her Majesty's pleasure.
GREG: Ah! And may I ask what dastardly deed led to your
incarceration?
RON: You may not. And please forget I said that. It was a slip of the
tongue.
GREG: Fear not, my friend. Your secret is safe with me. Discretion is
my middle name.
RON: And your secret's safe with me. Where is she? Visiting her mum?
How do I know? There can only be one explanation for that band of pale
skin on your ring finger.
RON and GREG continue chatting inaudibly.
GISELLE: Two questions I dread: 'how old are you?' / and -
ALEXA: No one tells the truth about their age.
GISELLE: No one?
ALEXA: No one. I usually say I'm twenty-five. Do you know that all
men, whether they're fifteen or ninety, are most attracted to women of
twenty-five?
GISELLE: Really? I'll remember that.
PARTNERS
EMMA: We've won again. By five hundred and seventy.
COLIN: It's the home advantage. We'll get our revenge when you come to
us. (To JASMINE:) Won't we my dear?
JASMINE: Yes. Yes, I hope so.
COLIN: (to EMMA and VINCE:) We'll be in touch to fix a date.
EMMA: (rises.) Right.
VINCE: One more rubber?
COLIN: (stands up.) Pass.
VINCE: Come on. Just one more.
COLIN: We have to make a move. Unless ... (To JASMINE:) Want another
rubber my dear?
JASMINE: Me? No. No.
COLIN: You'll have to excuse us. Emma. Vince. We've really enjoyed
ourselves in your lovely home basking in your warm hospitality, but
all good things come to an end. (To JASMINE:) Don't they my dear?
JASMINE: Yes. Yes, they do.
COLIN: (moves towards the door.) Where did you hide our things?
VINCE: (holds his phone as though about to make a call.) I'm hungry.
I'm sure you are too. I'm going to order pizzas. What will you have?
(He finds some takeaway menus and thrusts one at JASMINE.) Jasmine.
JASMINE takes the menu and scans it.
VINCE: (thrusts a menu at COLIN.) Colin.
COLIN does not take the proffered menu.
COLIN: Thanks but we really have to get back ... unless ... my wife
overrules me.
JASMINE: (puts menu on a convenient surface and gets up.) No. No. We
have to get back.
VINCE: A drink before you go?
COLIN: Not for me.
JASMINE: Nor me. Thank you.
VINCE: I can't persuade you?
COLIN and JASMINE shake their heads.
VINCE: Okay. I'll get your things.
He exits followed by COLIN.
JASMINE: (pseudo playful:) Emma, can I ask you a favour?
EMMA: Of course.
JASMINE: I know it's a bit of an imposition but ...
EMMA: What?
JASMINE: Can I spend the night on your sofa?
EMMA: What?
JASMINE: Can I stay here tonight? (Pause.) I mean it.
EMMA: Why in the ... ?
JASMINE: (still pseudo playful:) Don't ask. (Pause.) Just one night.
(Pause.) You see, he doesn't like losing.
EMMA: (pseudo sympathetic as to a child:) He turns into a monster?
JASMINE: That's one way of putting it. Well?
EMMA: Of course you can.
JASMINE: I'll say I feel dizzy.
EMMA: What?
COLIN enters with his and JASMINE's coats or jackets followed by
VINCE.
EMMA: Colin. Hear what your wife says about you?
COLIN: No. (To JASMINE:) Have you been maligning me my dear?
EMMA: (sure that JASMINE is play-acting:) She says can she sleep on
our sofa tonight because when you lose at bridge you become a
monster.
JASMINE is horrified.
COLIN: I do indeed.
ENDGAME
HEATH: Know what I'd like to do?
SHEENA: It'll have to wait till after the clinic.
HEATH: Not that.
SHEENA: You mean you don't… ?
HEATH: No. I do. But that's not what I meant.
SHEENA: Well?
HEATH: What I'd like is. It's our wedding anniversary next month. I'd
like us to renew our vows. And have a second honeymoon. Not Brittany.
I thought / how about Tunisia?
SHEENA: Hold on. Renew our vows? A proper ceremony?
HEATH: Yes. Like at the wedding.
SHEENA: In a church? With a vicar? And a white dress? A best man? /
Bridesmaids?
HEATH: No need for the trimmings. Unless you want them.
SHEENA: What? Why?
HEATH: Because when I said the words then, it was like ... er ... a
performance, like I had to impress you and the vicar and everyone else
with my sincerity. I hoped we'd be happy together but I didn't feel,
like I do now, that the vows were ... er ... sacred and I should
commit myself totally to making you - and the baby - happy. I want to
say the same words, the exact same words, over again but differently.
With mindfulness. With intention. With resolve. With all my heart.
SHEENA: That is so beautiful.
HEATH: So you'll do it.
SHEENA: If that's what you want.
HEATH: Love you.
SHEENA: Love you.
HEATH: Marrying you was the best thing I've ever done.
SHEENA: You dithered for so long.
HEATH: Not that long.
SHEENA: Nearly six months. I was scared you'd never get round to
proposing. I knew I wanted you from the very first minute I saw you.
HEATH: Mum was right.
SHEENA: What about?
HEATH: You. You realise that but for her we'd never have met.
SHEENA: What?
HEATH: But for her none of this would have happened.
SHEENA: What wouldn't have happened?
HEATH: Us. The baby. Everything.
SHEENA: I don't understand.
HEATH: Remember that first time I came into 'Good Reads'?
SHEENA: How could I forget! “I'm looking for a book to help my
computer illiterate mum get to grips with her Kindle”.
HEATH: She said to look out for a sales assistant called Sheena. Most
insistent she was.
SHEENA: You're right. But for your mum we'd never have met.
HEATH: She knew we were right for each other from the word go.
SHEENA: Before you did?
HEATH: Yes. In fact ... but for her badgering I don't suppose I'd have
got round to asking you out. Or proposing.
SHEENA: Hold on. Let me get this straight. You came into 'Good
Reads' because your mother sent you. You approached me straightaway
- without looking through the shelves yourself, like most people do,
because she told you to. You asked me out and eventually proposed
because she badgered you.
HEATH: Put like that it does sound a bit ... but that doesn't change
the fact that it was the best thing I've ever done. You're ... we're
...
SHEENA: How could I be so ... blind!
HEATH: I've upset you. I'm sorry.
SHEENA: You've opened my eyes. No wonder you felt like a performer at
the wedding ceremony. A lot of other things are beginning to make
sense too. Damn you Heath and damn your sainted mother.
HEATH: What's the matter?
SHEENA: You don't get it, do you?
[End of Extract]