The Swan

Miranda Howard-Williams & Jon Clewes

Characters

Bob – pub regular, in his seventies, gruff voice and traditional views
Geoff – Pub landlord, early fifties, resigned and quite content with his lot in life
Amy – his daughter, 19, homely but with dreams and aspirations

Prologue

[Bell rings; a voice shouts “Last Orders”. Lights up on Bob, slumped at the bar like an old man (grizzly, in his seventies). Turns to address the audience.]

BOB: It ain’t half changed round here, you know. I mean; you been up the other end of the brook recently? Posh new houses, that’s what I hear. ‘Course I ain’t been there in a while. Nothing for me there, is there? Forty new homes, for families like. All look the same, and going to all kinds of people; estate agents, bank clerks, call centre managers, stuff like that. None of ‘em done a decent days work with their hands in all their lives. And if you’ve seen one of those houses you’ve seen them all – haven’t got any character, have they? Just a double garage for your cars. And they always have more than one don’t they? You know who I’m talking about. Paving over their gardens so they can fit their kid’s cars in, and their cousin’s, and their brother’s. Not that I’ve got anything against them mind. I like a good Balti as much as the next man. And if they’re here, well, they can live however they want. But I tell you, some parts of town don’t look like England anymore, do they? More like Bombay if you ask me. Like I said I don’t mind them, I ain’t a racist or anything, but they just don’t mix with us, do they? Don’t think the same way we do, don’t do the same things. ‘Course we gotta respect their customs and what not, but they’re here, why don’t they learn to respect ours? I mean, you don’t see many of them in here do you? And the one’s that do drink, well, it’s never pints is it? Or watching the footie? It’s vodka and cola or whiskey and whatever, and they’re always hogging the pool table and getting the Asian flush. Like I said, nothing for me. That’s why I spend most of my time in here. This place doesn’t change. Good old Geoff, he knows how these things work, likes to keep the place the way it’s always been. Got a cribbage board and a box of dominoes for the regulars; none of this quiz machine malarkey. All the beer’s on draft, and most of it’s local still. Nearly threw some kid out the other week, so he did, asked for a bloody lager shandy. A lager shandy! If it ain’t made with proper beer it ain’t a proper shandy. I ask you… Kid was whining he was driving or something, didn’t want a drink. I mean when did that happen? Everyone knows you can have a couple and still drive; least they did in my day. Still, all these lagers, they’re getting stronger ain’t they? If it’s not premium this it’s export strength that. Just gonna cause trouble if you ask me. Kid’s getting off their heads, and into fights and stuff. ‘Course you know who’s fault that is, don’t you? It’s all that Snail and Cabbage, re-branded, Delia Smith gastro-pub bollocks isn’t it? Just like their houses, now they want all their pubs to be the same too. Fancy cocktails, wine; and that’s just the blokes! Next you’ll be telling me that a baby-sham isn’t good enough for the ladies. Not that they should really be in the pub in the first place mind. I mean, why do you think they want their pubs to do an ‘organic hummus and tomato mezze’ or a ‘hand reared calf’s liver and winter vegetable mash’ after all? Because their wives ain’t at home cooking for them anymore, that’s why. Used to be a cheese roll was good enough, if you got hungry, or Steak and Ale pie Saturday if you felt like a treat. You ask me, only time women should be in pubs is if they’re pouring the drinks. Course, it helps if they’ve got a pretty face and a bit of good conversation, if you know what I mean? Girl who works here, Amy, she ain’t half bad. ‘Course she’s a little young. She’s been here nearly all her life to be honest. Watched her grow up, I have. And she knows all about running this place; learnt it all from her old man ain’t she? She’ll make a good land-lady one day, if Geoff can keep her. ‘Course, it’s not much for a kid nowadays is it? Time was, you used to be happy if you had a trade or prospects like this; you’d settle down, raise a family, happy enough just to be comfortable. Now that ain’t good enough for them; they want to go out, see the world, with their gap-years, and their bungie-jumping. Can’t get enough of it can they? You ask me, it’s all because they’ve never really had to suffer, have they? Never lived through a war, never gone hungry, never lost anybody. So now they have to do it to themselves; puking their guts in some filthy third world country, building another orphanage or what have you. Throwing themselves out of planes, thinking its all a big game. It’s not when you’re seventeen, lied about your age, and now you’ve got no choice but to jump and there’s a load of hairy German bastards just waiting down there to kill you. Not like what I had to do. Still, Amy, she’s a good girl; her dad should be proud of her. Always helping out behind the bar, when her friends are off drinking their alchopops and dancing to their disco music; causing trouble and what have you. No, Amy respects her old man, working night shifts, collecting glasses and such. ‘Course, Geoff needs all the help he can get, there just being the two of them. Like I said; a good kid.

Scene 1

[Amy enters. She is nineteen, and dressed sensibly for work. She looks tired, plain, and her mascara has run. She is collecting glasses. As she enters the jukebox springs into life and plays the first few bars of Frank Sinatra You are the sunshine in my life before Amy stops it with a kick.]

[Geoff enters on the opposite side of the stage, shouting offstage.]

GEOFF: Night lads… see you next week Dave… You too Pete. Say hello to the missus for me. Night all.

AMY: Pretty slow for a Saturday Dad.

GEOFF: Tell me about it; if the trade doesn’t pick up we won’t be replacing that jukebox any time soon. Still, it’s been a pretty good week. Footballs on tomorrow too, should get a few more people through the doors.

AMY: It could be like that every day Dad… if we got Sky.

GEOFF: Not now Amy. Look love, go make a start washing those glasses will you?

Scene 2

[Geoff pulls himself a pint and sits down behind the bar, opposite Bob. They nod to each other.]

GEOFF: You alright there Bob? Always just us two isn’t it? [Sighs] Went to the hospital today. Had another little chat with the doctors. Got a second opinion; all these months of tests and they tell me there isn’t really anything to be done. Apparently there’s a chance… if I go back into surgery, and spend months in a hospital bed… and even then it’s too risky. I don’t feel like taking risks anymore. I don’t want Amy to end up being my nurse; heaven knows she’s taken care of me long enough. Plus I figure we all know when it’s our time eh? At least this way I get a chance to sort things out, make sure she’s settled. Not everyone gets that chance. I can take care of the lease on this place too, get it put into her name. I was never able to give her a lot, but at least I can give her this. Give her a livelihood and a home. This place has been good to us, and now it can be good to her and her family – when she has one. But I’m worried about her; I’m all she’s got really. I mean, she’s got friends, but she spends most of her time here helping me out. I know that’s my fault too, not that she blames me, but it’s not too easy for a kid growing up here. Managing everything at once. I hope she doesn’t feel like she missed out on too much. Still, a place like this, it’s money in the bank isn’t it? Kids don’t think of that, not like you and me, we know how these things work. A man’s job is to provide for his family and I’ve done my best. So I guess this will be the last thing I get to do for her. I know that she’s angry and thinks I’m being selfish about all of this. But I’m not putting her through any more hospital visits; this is the best thing for her, for both of us. It’s about a man’s dignity isn’t it? No more tubes and tests and probes. I mean if I did go through with it I’d have to be connected to an oxygen tank; I don’t want to go around looking like bloody Darth Vader, do I?! I can’t believe a little cough can turn into something like this. I wish I’d done something sooner, but like I said I guess it’s just my time. I used to wonder where I got it from. I mean, I used to smoke, but then again we all did didn’t we? I stopped when Amy’s mother got pregnant – I could never do anything to harm her. Not that she stopped mind, selfish bitch, she never was any good at resisting temptation. She smoked and drank her way through the pregnancy; I tell you Bob, the arguments we used to have. Always thinking of herself, never anyone else… except maybe that guy she finally run off with. But we’ve done alright without her. We’ve done ourselves proud.

[He drains his pint and gets up.]

But, I mean… I guess it was all those years of fumes laying loft insulation. Or brick dust from the site. Hell, I even used to think it might be this place. They didn’t used to think about asbestos when this place was last being re-done. I mean we never got told about those things did we? Not like today with health warnings on everything; we were totally ignorant back then. Or maybe it was just innocence. How does that song go? Be young, be foolish, but be happy. Well we were certainly young and foolish. I used to think everything would work out just perfect, but then I guess everyone does, don’t they? Certainly didn’t think I’d end up stuck here talking to you Bob – no offence. Yeah, when I got married to Amy’s mom, I thought things were on the up. A family. A bigger income. A car. A television. Nothing on the never-never either. A washing machine. Above all though, a house, a place of our own. Went back there today, with Amy. She doesn’t even remember it, or what our life was like back then, but I wanted to show her, wanted her to see where her whole life started. I guess it’s good she doesn’t remember in a way; she can’t miss it. This place and me, this is what she’s got now; although she won’t have me much longer. I guess that’s what I was trying to make up for today. We sat there for hours you know, just in the car, watching the house; with me telling her how it used to be, back when we were a proper family. Although, I guess my idea of what makes a family has changed a bit, what with bringing up Amy alone. Maybe you don’t need all that traditional stuff. We’ve been happy. I mean we’ve had our moments, but generally we’ve been happy. Well, what’s tradition anyway? It’s just the way your parents used to do stuff. I mean I everyone’s got their traditions, but I guess things always change. Bit late for an epiphany now though, hey? So we just sat there for hours, we didn’t want to get out. It was raining, and besides what’s there to see, someone playing happy families in our old house – I wish them more luck than I got. Amy didn’t really get it, she wasn’t upset and I didn’t want her to see me cry, so I just sat there behind the wheel. We’ve never been ones to look back all that much. It’s all about the future now, isn’t it? Even if I’m not in it. She’s like me with that, always making plans. Nothing like her mother, who couldn’t ever let go of the way things used to be. Once the salad days were over that was it – she was always caught up with how things weren’t, not how they were. Amy’s got some plans of her own, especially about this place, although I’m not so sure. I don’t see why it can’t just stay like this; if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. To tell the truth its pretty much the way it was when the last guy left it. I was lucky with this place. The guy died suddenly – an aneurism I think, and no-one wanted to take on the lease. Well I couldn’t say no, could I? I mean it was a home and a business, rolled into one. Of course, there aren’t many places like this left. I’ve had offers from all over the shop; the big breweries and the like. Sure it’s been tempting, but this place and Amy, that’s my life. Pretty much all I’ve accomplished really. Although I must have done a better job than I thought with Amy; I’ve no idea how she turned out so well. I’m surprised nobody’s snapper her up yet. Still, she’s got quite a bit of character too. Although hers is less easy to hide than this place, nothing a couple of coats of paint and a board with some fancy wines on could ever cover up. That’s what it’d be like here, you know, if I just did what the breweries told me. And I’d never see neither of them, Amy nor here, in the hands of some smarmy career git like that. Though it’s not really as if anybody thinks like that anymore. You and me Bob, we’re the last of a dying breed. [Laughs wryly.] Though maybe that’s for the best. Amy’s always trying to please me, not herself, but I know that she wants things to change. I mean, I don’t know what I would have done without her. She got me through, she was always there in the tough times. I always had someone. I just wish that she had someone too. So I knew that when I’m not here anymore, she’d be alright. Sure she’s a good girl, but I don’t want her to have to go through this alone. Maybe one person’s enough, y’know? Maybe all each of us needs is just one person, someone to share our troubles with and tell stuff too – even if we know they can’t hear or understand us.

Scene 3

[Amy enters from the back, and goes behind the bar. She is carrying a prospectus in her hands for the University of Central England.]

AMY: Hey Dad, listen to this. ‘A degree in business management can help you to set up a new enterprise, or to develop an existing family venture.’ See, that’s what we could do with this place… or I mean, what I could do with this place.

[The jukebox jumps into life again, stuttering through the first few bars of Sinatra again. Amy slams it with her hand once more.]

AMY: We certainly need a new one of these anyway. In fact we should get one of those multimedia stations; you know, where you the internet and all that too, that would be good!

GEOFF: I don’t know Amy. I mean, why would you need the internet in a pub? People come here to get away from that kind of thing; work, the news, the outside world. They just come in here for a quiet drink.

AMY: But it’s not about a quiet drink anymore Dad. We can’t survive off of the regulars for ever. [Notices the figure slumped at the bar.] Sorry Bob. People want sofas where they can sit and chat with their friends, and a… a gin and tonic; it can’t just be beer all the time. And when was the last time you had these stools sprung Dad?

GEOFF: And that’s the future is it? You don’t need a degree to buy a bloody leather sofa Amy. There’s enough people running around with useless qualifications as it is. You know how to run this place better than anyone.

AMY: But it’s not just about running it Dad. We could run it into the ground! I want it to grow, to do well! And that’s what Uni can teach me; I can have a business plan, get some capital together and remortgage and –

GEOFF: [Angry.] Re-mortgage! I didn’t bloody well slave away in this place for thirteen years, just so the bank can have it when ‘Sky’, or ‘Gastro-pubs’, or ‘cocktails’, or, or whatever god-forsaken fad is over. It’s for you - I want you security, prospect, things I didn’t! [Getting angrier.] And I don’t want you to take those sorts of risks!

[Geoff begins to get out of breath. Amy snaps back.]

AMY: It’s not a ‘fad’, dad! It’s the future!
[Geoff starts wheezing, and is unable to answer.]

AMY: I’m… sorry, of dad, are you ok?

GEOFF: I… I might just go and have a lie down. Mind the bar will you love? Oh and think about this; you’re going to have a hell of a time doing a degree with a young baby.

[Exit Geoff. As he leaves, the jukebox jumps into life again. Geoff kicks it as he leaves.]

Scene 4

[Amy sits down on the bar; highly emotional. She puts her head in her hands. There is a long pause.]

AMY: Sorry Bob. I just… I just don’t know what to do. I really don’t. I want to think about the future, but how can I when I can’t imagine him not being here? [Sobs] I hate being angry at him, but… I mean… I don’t understand why he won’t fight anymore. I need him, doesn’t he know that? The thought of being alone scares me so much. It’s always been us – us against the world. Or rather, him protecting me from it. He says surgery would give him a chance; I don’t understand why he won’t take it. Why won’t he do this one thing for me? [Head in hands again. Pause.] Everything he’s done has been for me though, I know that. His life has been about providing for me. I would do anything for him, but sometimes I don’t think I want to live the life he wants me to. I mean he was happy when I left school with just my GCSEs, but I don’t want to pull pints all my life. You know I’m at college now, getting my A-levels? I’m doing alright. Dad thinks that’s enough. But I’ve got plans, for me and for this place. It’s not hard to daydream when you spend all your evenings in here. Of course, it has its advantages. I’m better off than most of my friends and well, I guess it keeps me out of trouble. And Dad’s shown me the ropes. But see, I’ve always had money, but never anything to spend it on. I feel like I’m constantly investing in a future I’ll never have; instead there’ll just be this place, same as always. I know you’d like that. But we have to draw in new people. Times are changing. And what would I have if this place went under? Then again, Dad’s got some plans of his own. [Dramatic pause] He told you what we did today, didn’t he? I mean, I don’t even remember the old house; this place is my home. I don’t know why we even went. Maybe he was trying to prove something to me… or torture himself. I could see him crying. We just sat there, for hours, in the rain. And then he asked me something, Bob, something big. He wants me to do one last thing for him before… before… you know. [Sob] He said that having a child was the only thing that got him through… through mom and everything. But it’s just so ridiculous… I mean, I’m only nineteen. I’m still at college. I’m single! How on earth am I supposed to have a baby for fuck’s sake?! [Pause] I guess I kind of understand. I know he doesn’t want to leave me if I’m alone. But it’s so different. He was married, and he wanted a family. I can’t just have a baby to stop me from being lonely. That’s so… so selfish. As good as my life has been here, I’m not sure if I would really want to bring a child into a world like this – do I really want to put a baby, my baby, through growing up here? But then, it’s as good as life as any I guess. Even if I did decide to have a child, I wouldn’t know how to go about it. [Awkwardly] I mean I do know, obviously. But what – do you just ask someone – please be the father of my child?! All the guys I know would run a mile! Would I ask a friend? The only boyfriend I’ve ever had was a holiday fling; I don’t meet many guys working here. Well, not the boyfriend type at least. I guess I could, what, meet a random guy and trick him into it? A one night stand – but I wouldn’t want to be… y’know… my first. [Blush] There are other ways I guess; sperm banks and all that. Or maybe I could adopt. But, I don’t even know if I want a kid at all. I don’t think I can do this, I really don’t. Dad seems to think it will help, if just out of necessity, but I don’t think I could ever get over losing him and raise a kid – I’m not strong enough. I mean, it’s emotional blackmail… I’ll do anything for him, but I don’t think I can do this. Me as a mom, I just can’t imagine that. What if I’m like her, my mom, and I just run off. But then again aren’t I just being like her now; just thinking about myself. This is what Dad wants, and he wants it for me; he always wants the best for me. But then he gave up his life to do so, and I’m not so sure I could do the same. I mean, my life hasn’t even really begun yet, not really. I’m just starting out; I want to live a bit, before I get tied down, tied to a family. Maybe that’s how mom felt; maybe I am like her after all. I certainly don’t think I take after Geoff. Dad I mean. Mom must have left because she thought she could have something, something better. Maybe she just wanted things to change, and eventually she had to do it without him. He’s never been one for change; not from the status quo, and not from his idea of the future. Do you know, I don’t really blame her? My mother. For leaving us, I mean. I’m not angry at her or anything, even though she abandoned us. Abandoned me. Some people just aren’t cut out for it are they? What if I’m not either; you know, at being a mom. I guess you never know until you try. But why should I? And why now? One day, maybe, but I don’t think I’m ready. I know Dad wants it. Maybe this is what he did to Mom too; from what he’s told me it doesn’t sound like she ever really wanted a family. Maybe it was all that which pushed her away. Me. I mean she only ever had me, she must have realised it wasn’t her; she didn’t take to motherhood. She might have been looking for an escape for a while. I’ve never tried to find her, and I’ve never even wanted to ask Dad; that would be too much like ingratitude, after everything he’s done. He’s done his best, his best at keeping everything together. He gave me a stable upbringing, gave me what I needed. Maybe I don’t need stability anymore though, I need something more, something different. But then I guess things are going to change anyway aren’t they; it’s out of my control, I just wish it wasn’t this. I can’t imagine this place without him. Have you ever noticed Bob, how everyone has a smell? You hardly even realise, but it’s always there in the background; what they wash their hair in, or their clothes, what they do. His is cigarette smoke and stale beer, that’s how much its become a part of him. I’ve always found it kind of comforting. I used to… when I used to think of mom, when I was very small, I used to think she must of smelt like that too. But no, I guess she can’t have done. She was never here; in the pub I mean. She was never part of it, never grew into it like me and Dad did. And you never know, a bit of him might live on in this place. But then… how long have you been coming here Bob? It must have been a while right? Did you ever come here before? Before us? As much as Dad’s proud of this place, it’s not really his own. He might have kept this pub the way he likes it, but he never made it like this in the first place. This is all someone else’s idea of what a pub should be, not his. He hasn’t bought anything new. Just look at that jukebox; it’s been here since we bought the place, and its still full of some other bloke’s music. The sounds of the sixties and seventies, and some forgotten old crooners, and now its breaking down, just like him. This place has absorbed him; it needed us as much as we needed it. He wanted to keep a dream alive, the dream of this place, the ideal pub, his haven. But now I can see that it was all an illusion. The dreams still alive but he’s dying. He always said this was a ‘real pub’ but this isn’t reality – what’s real is things change, move on, die, and new things replace them, right? I don’t want to just be the person who replaces Dad, I’ve got dreams of my own – everyone needs those. I don’t think I can face spending the rest of my life behind this bar. I don’t want to end up trapped here, not like… [Looks behind her] Bob, did Dad ever tell you about the last landlord here; I mean about what happened to him after he died. It was so sad. He was like Dad, he spent his whole life here, and his death too. He… passed away in the cellar. It was sudden, some problem with his heart or his brain or something. That, that’s when we got this place. They held his wake here too. His son came up to sort things out, but he didn’t want anything to do with the running of the place. He hadn’t been back for a while – I don’t think they got on too well. Didn’t seem to care all that much; he just wanted to get away again, like coming back was too much for him. He left in a hurry; a real hurry. He said he had to pick up someone up from the station; but he never came back. We’d just moved in, and when Dad was cleaning up he found a plastic bag, under the seat where he’d been sitting. And in it… was this urn. He’d left his father behind. We put it up there, behind the bar, waiting for him to come back and pick it up. But he never did. So we left it there. Dad thought that was what he would have wanted. Imagine that; never getting to leave this place… not even when you’re dead. I don’t… I don’t want that to be Dad. And I certainly don’t want it to be me. Thank God he’ll die in a hospital and not here… [Breaks down into tears] I can’t believe I just said that. I mean, how can I be so rational about it? How can he be so rational about it? Death… isn’t logical is it? It just doesn’t make sense. [She picks up the urn, and places it on the corner of the bar] This was someone once. Now all this, this dust… that’s all that’s left. [She opens the urn] How can this be it? [Looks inside] How can this be all that remains of someone’s life; a man with a life, a family; just like Dad, all rendered down to dust. How is everything reduced to this? [She takes out a handful of dust] I mean this can’t be it, it just can’t be. Dad can’t end up this way – a few handfuls of ashes [Sobbing throughout] A handful of nothing. I won’t let it happen, I won’t. Dad can’t end up as nothing, not like this. Nothing [Blows some of the ashes onto the bar], its just nothing. [Turns her back on Bob, and pours the ashes through her hands while sobbing. Lights down on Bob, who silently gets up and leaves the stage] If you want to end up like this, fine you selfish bastard, but you can’t make me!

Labels: drama, submissions