Crossings Page 2

The bloody house.

  As if we would have swapped William for a house!

  And we lost it anyway.

  Do you know that?

  Because Hunt only extended the lease to encourage William to join up. Once he died, William died, we were out on the side of the road. And Mother only lived three months after.

  GRACE. Jesus!

  MARGARET. Yes.

  A new family live there now.

  GRACE. So where do you live?

  MARGARET. I have been living… working in Birmingham.

  Until recently.

  GRACE. In the city?

  MARGARET. Yes.

  GRACE. That’s quite a change from Badgersbridge.

  MARGARET. Yes, yes it is… it was.

  So William’s sacrifice was useless.

  Utterly useless.

  GRACE. Don’t blame yourself.

  MARGARET. I don’t blame myself!

  GRACE. They’d have got him eventually with conscription.

  MARGARET. I suppose you are right.

  Like they ‘got’ us all.

  Pause.

  Long pause.

  GRACE. So what did you do in Birmingham, Margaret?

  MARGARET. I worked.

  GRACE. Worked where?

  MARGARET. At Mills’ Munition Factory. I looked after the accounts.

  But now Mr Mills’ nephew has returned from France so he will take up the position.

  GRACE. Why?

  MARGARET. Because…

  It is his right.

  GRACE. Is it?

  MARGARET. Sorry?

  GRACE. Is it his right?

  MARGARET. I am not sure what you mean?

  We must return, mustn’t we?

  We must return to what was before.

  GRACE. Why?

  MARGARET. Because the war is over.

  GRACE. But it happened, Margaret.

  MARGARET. I know it happened.

  Don’t we all know it bloody happened!

  GRACE. So now everything has changed.

  MARGARET. Not in Badgersbridge.

  Never in Badgersbridge.

  GRACE. So why don’t you go back to Birmingham?

  MARGARET. And live where?

  I lost my lodgings when I lost my job, Grace.

  I am now living back here with a relative.

  And that is how your note found me.

  GRACE. Lucky.

  MARGARET. Lucky? I can assure you that there is nothing lucky about my situation.

  GRACE. And you still haven’t told me if you are lonely.

  Slight pause.

  MARGARET. I haven’t told you because I haven’t thought about it.

  ‘Lonely’.

  Lonely is a luxury for the likes of me.

  GRACE. Why?

  MARGARET. Because I cannot spare a thought for sentiment, Grace.

  I cannot spare a thought for anything but my future, my circumstance. I cannot indulge in a fantasy of womanhood because, unlike you, I live it, I am forced to live it.

  GRACE. Ah there it is again.

  That sharp tongue.

  MARGARET. Do you know what my options are, Grace?

  What the options of a single woman are?

  GRACE. No, I suppose I don’t.

  MARGARET. Of course not.

  Well, when a woman has no family she has even less liberty. So for me… it is domestic service or marriage.

  GRACE. That’s it!?

  MARGARET. Yes that’s it. Despite my talents in business… which are numerous.

  GRACE. I don’t doubt it.

  MARGARET. I am no longer permitted at the factory, Grace.

  No longer required.

  GRACE. And when you say business…?

  MARGARET. I managed everything. Income, debtors, capital, expenditure, cash. Mr Mills used to praise me from the heights.

  Mr Mills used to stand me in front of the workers once a month and tell them I was exemplary. I was his Wartime Home-time Hero.

  And the business expanded during my time there… expanded three-fold and I never lost sight of a farthing, a farthing!

  And I took meetings. Meetings with colleagues and other factory owners when Mr Mills was out. I was trusted entirely. Mr Mills said I could run the country if I wanted to but then the war ended.

  And I… I, like all the women at the factory, was told that I was no longer needed, no longer employed.

  GRACE. That’s shite.

  Now MARGARET laughs.

  MARGARET. Oh… Oh you are funny.

  Yes it is.

  That is exactly what it is.

  ‘Shite’.

  She puts her hand over her mouth and laughs again.

  GRACE laughs too.

  GRACE. So I take it you liked Birmingham?

  MARGARET. Liked? Liked Birmingham? I loved it! Why wouldn’t I? Dances, real dances… not the nonsense that they call dances here… and pictures, Grace, they have a picture house. And I used to dine at The Royal three nights a week but now… now…

  MARGARET leans on the piano hitting a group of low notes.

  They both look at the piano.

  Slight pause.

  GRACE. Did William ever play this piano?

  MARGARET. William?

  GRACE. Yes.

  MARGARET. Of course.

  I’m sure… I’m sure he did…

  GRACE. He taught me, you know.

  Taught me all the notes.

  MARGARET. Did he?

  GRACE sits on the piano stool and starts to play ‘If You Were the Only Girl in the World’.

  She speaks the next few lines over the music.

  GRACE. He said I had an ear for it, a talent.

  She plays some more.

  A talent that saved my life.

  She plays some more.

  I’d like you to know, Margaret.

  That it wasn’t all horror.

  For William.

  It wasn’t all ‘mud and blood and murder’.

  There were happy days.

  MARGARET. Happy days?

  GRACE. Yes.

  This song was one of our favourites.

  William sang it.

  MARGARET. William sang that?

  GRACE. Yes.

  GRACE starts to sing ‘If You Were the Only Girl in the World’.

  MARGARET listens to the song.

  When GRACE finishes:

  William was a standout, Margaret.

  William was a star!

  MARGARET. A star? A star of what?

  GRACE. The Balmorals.

  MARGARET. What are these Balmorals?

  GRACE. The Balmorals were our family.

  MARGARET. Are you deliberately being obtuse?

  GRACE. Obtuse? I don’t even know what it means.

  MARGARET. Who were the Balmorals?

  GRACE. They… We were a theatre troupe.

  MARGARET. A theatre troupe on the Front?

  GRACE. Of course.

  MARGARET. That doesn’t make any sense.

  GRACE. Nothing makes sense, Margaret, if the war has taught us anything, it has taught us that.

  She starts to play ‘Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty’.

  MARGARET enjoys it this time.

  GRACE then switches midway to ‘Hinky-Dinky Parlezvous’… to her surprise MARGARET knows it and joins in.

  MARGARET. They used to sing that sometimes at the factory.

  GRACE. Well now!

  It seem you are a natural like your brother.

  MARGARET. No I’m not.

  GRACE. And beautiful!

  MARGARET. I am not that either.

  GRACE. Says who?

  MARGARET touches her hair.

  MARGARET. I see you can be charming as a man or a woman, Grace Doherty.

  GRACE. I am only being honest.

  GRACE now touches MARGARET’s hair. There is a moment…

  MARGARET pulls away.

  MARGARET. I am not sure I understand what you are telling me, Gra
ce… about William?

  William was a star?

  GRACE. Yes, William was a star.

  Everyone loved him.

  We played as a duo mostly but sometimes he might take over…

  GRACE starts to play ‘There’s a Long Long Trail A-Winding’.

  When he sang this you could hear the war medals rattle because even the most hardened old fart had to reach for his hanky… the whole hall would be struggling to hold back the tears.

  MARGARET. But where did he play?

  GRACE. In the canteen or depot.

  In the rest camps or hospitals…

  Wherever there were soldiers, Margaret, there were Balmorals.

  MARGARET. I can’t believe it.

  There was singing on the Front?

  GRACE. Of course.

  And dancing and play-acting.

  To bring some relief from the carnage.

  MARGARET. But did the army know about it?

  GRACE. The army organised it… eventually.

  Shakespeare is good for morale, don’t you know.

  And penny operas and bawdy jokes and pantos…

  GRACE switches from the previous melodic number now to something familiar like ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’. She keeps playing the piano as they speak.

  Anything to take them away… take us away…

  MARGARET. But William never showed any interest in theatrics before?

  GRACE. Didn’t he?

  MARGARET. No! Never!

  GRACE. He was that good that they used to swap him between battalions to stop him getting killed. They used to swap us both. Because we were worth more singing, Margaret, than firing any guns.

  MARGARET. But William did get killed.

  GRACE stops playing.

  GRACE. Yes, William did get killed.

  And the singing was never the same after.

  Not for me anyway.

  MARGARET. I knew nothing of this.

  How did I know nothing of this?

  GRACE. Because it doesn’t quite fit the picture, does it.

  Singing for King and Country?

  But they needed us, Margaret… them Tommys and Freddies and Alberts… they needed the Balmorals as much as they needed air. Soldiers would sit in the tent for hours, you know, before curtain-up.

  I can still hear them, you know, in my dreams.

  I can still hear them stamp and clap and ROAR!

  And I can hear them laugh, laugh and laugh like little children trying to convince us to keep going because if we could pretend then so could they.

  And I can hear their hearts burst, Margaret, when we sing.

  Because I could feel their longing every night on that stage.

  I could feel it in my bones.

  When I would stick my head out of a cardboard window on a cardboard-cut-out train and they might all sing with me –

  Birmingham… Leeds or Manchester…

  And their longing would hang in the air.

  And their terror would scream through their cheers.

  And their ache would rattle.

  Because they knew, Margaret.

  They knew they were never going home.

  Pause.

  Long pause.

  The memory hangs in the air.

  Do you play at all?

  MARGARET. No. No. I never learned.

  GRACE. Pity.

  I might have had a job for you.

  MARGARET. A job for me?

  GRACE. I was thinking of putting a troupe together.

  MARGARET. A troupe?

  GRACE. To tour.

  MARGARET. Tour where?

  GRACE. I don’t know. Music halls?

  Village halls?

  She smiles.

  There are a few of the old Balmorals made it home.

  MARGARET. Goodness, I think that’s a great idea!

  GRACE. Do you?

  MARGARET. People need a lift.

  People need something different.

  GRACE. They do.

  It’s the one thing I miss about home… the singing.

  MARGARET. Ireland?

  GRACE. Yeah.

  MARGARET. Will you go back there?

  GRACE. God no, I don’t think they’d know what to make of me now… in Kells!

  ’Tis far from fine pianos I was reared.

  MARGARET. This is hardly a ‘fine’ piano, Grace.

  GRACE. I dunno…

  She plays a few notes again.

  She plays, doesn’t she?

  But I was thinking, I might need someone to manage us?

  MARGARET. Manage you?

  GRACE. Do the accounts.

  Book the tours.

  MARGARET. What are you saying?

  GRACE. I am saying… I am saying that I grew up on a farm, Margaret, not even a farm, more like a scrap of land beyond a forgotten town… and I was even useless at that. Useless at digging. Useless with the cattle so I don’t know how to do much… I don’t know how to make a living now if I don’t sing. And these things… managing… accounts… they are not my talents.

  MARGARET. I’m sure there must be scores of theatrical managers in London?

  GRACE. I’m sure there are.

  It was just an idea.

  MARGARET. What was just an idea?

  GRACE. That you might join us?

  MARGARET. Join you?

  A theatre troupe?

  GRACE. Yes.

  MARGARET. But I’ve never been to the theatre in my life.

  GRACE. Why not?

  MARGARET. My mother would never allow it!

  William would never allow it!

  GRACE. Ah… I think William might have changed his mind.

  MARGARET. But I couldn’t… I wouldn’t dream of it!

  GRACE. Why not?

  MARGARET. Because… because it’s immoral… isn’t it?

  Theatre?

  GRACE. Immoral? Really?

  What gave you that idea?

  GRACE starts to play ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’ (the dirty version).

  (Sings.) That’s the wrong way to tickle Mary…

  MARGARET. Are you serious?

  GRACE stops playing.

  GRACE. Yes I’m serious.

  There’s no need for marriage or domestic service, Margaret, if you come with me and do the accounts.

  MARGARET. Oh God… why didn’t you… why didn’t you come here weeks ago?

  GRACE. I was busy getting home from France.

  MARGARET. But now it’s too late…

  GRACE. Why?

  MARGARET. Because I said I’d marry Geoffrey!

  GRACE. Geoffrey?

  Who the hell is Geoffrey?

  MARGARET. Geoffrey is Mr Mills’ son.

  GRACE. The one who took your job?

  MARGARET. No, that’s his nephew.

  Geoffrey is his son and Mr Mills wants me to marry him.

  GRACE. Mr Mills wants you to marry Geoffrey?

  MARGARET. Because Geoffrey isn’t quite himself.

  GRACE. What does that mean?

  MARGARET. It means that he fought at Estaires.

  Geoffrey fought at Estaires.

  And he came home a shadow of himself.

  A half of himself, Grace.

  A blind blithering mess if I’m honest.

  GRACE. Estaires?

  MARGARET. His skin… it hangs in strips.

  And his limbs jerk…

  And he screams, oh God he screams, Grace.

  At all the horrors lurking behind his bandages.

  But Mr Mills said he might improve, would improve with the right care.

  With love.

  With a wife.

  GRACE. If Geoffrey fought at Estaires, Geoffrey was hit by gas, he won’t improve, Margaret, don’t marry him.

  What Geoffrey needs is a nurse, not a wife.

  MARGARET. I’m not sure that Mr Mills knows the difference.

  GRACE. So tell Mr Mills thanks but no thanks.

  MARGARET. I
can’t.

  I can’t disrespect that sacrifice, can I?

  Geoffrey’s sacrifice?

  GRACE. What about your sacrifice?

  Your brother.

  Your home.

  And now Mr Mills has even taken your job.

  You owe the bastard nothing.

  He’s just looking for cheap labour.

  Or he probably has his eye on you himself.

  She winces.

  I’m right, aren’t I?

  Slight pause.

  MARGARET. You are not wrong.

  GRACE. I knew it.

  They’re all the same, toffs.

  Don’t throw yourself away, Margaret.

  You’re too good for them.

  And you’ve survived this far.

  We’ve survived this far.

  So fuck the lot of them.

  MARGARET. But what will they think of me?

  How would I hold my head up?

  GRACE. Hold your head up where?

  If you come with me to Soho, no one will judge you there.

  MARGARET. Soho?

  GRACE. Yes.

  MARGARET. Soho.

  GRACE. Where there are dances, real dances, Margaret… and theatre and picture houses.

  MARGARET. And what would… what would be my remuneration?

  GRACE. Ah that’s more like it!

  Your remuneration can be whatever you like!

  And if we make a go of it, I’ll make you a partner, how about that?

  You’d have your own business then, Margaret, and no one could tell you you were ‘no longer required’.

  MARGARET. My own business.

  GRACE. And your own life!

  The Immoral Balmorals, why not?

  MARGARET. Why not… because there must be more, mustn’t there?

  There must be more to this life than duty?

  I mean, isn’t it duty that started all this?

  Duty and fear?

  ‘If England Falls, You Fall.’

  And I tell you it makes me sick.

  GRACE. That’s the girl…

  MARGARET. It makes me sick what they asked of us.

  What they took from us.

  From you and Geoffrey and William… and me.

  And for what?

  For what, Grace?

  GRACE. So that they could hold on to their estates.

  So that they could hold on to Ireland, and their factories, and their money, but they don’t know what they’ve started, Margaret, I’m telling you… they don’t know what they’ve started.

  Don’t marry Geoffrey.

  Whatever you do.

  It will be a life sentence.

  MARGARET. I know.

  Don’t you think I know that!

  I just don’t know that I have any choice.

  GRACE holds her gaze.

  GRACE. I’m giving you a choice.

  Come with me.

  MARGARET. Come with you?

  GRACE. Manage the troupe.

  Do the accounts.