Crossings Read online

  She has returned.

  SEAN. That must be lonely?

  MIRJANA. Lonely?

  I don’t think so.

  I have never thought about it – lonely.

  SEAN. Do you go back yourself?

  MIRJANA. No.

  SEAN. Never?

  MIRJANA. No.

  SEAN. Why is that?

  MIRJANA. Because I am busy. Because I work and I have the girls, my girls and they live a good life, that is what is important… that is what is important to me.

  SEAN. Of course.

  I’m glad.

  MIRJANA. Thank you.

  SEAN. And how old are they… how old are your girls?

  MIRJANA. They are six and eight years old.

  SEAN. Still small.

  MIRJANA. Yes… still… small.

  SEAN. What a shame for your mother to miss them?

  MIRJANA. Yes.

  Yes.

  But that is her choice.

  She chooses the past.

  SEAN. The past?

  How?

  MIRJANA. I…

  She shifts a little.

  I am not sure we should be having this conversation…

  SEAN. Why not?

  MIRJANA. Because I am at work.

  Because I have other appointments, Sean.

  SEAN. But I just…

  MIRJANA. I really don’t talk…

  SEAN. Why not?

  MIRJANA. Because no one is interested…

  SEAN. I’m interested!

  I’m interested…

  Slight pause.

  Why did she… why did your mother go back?

  MIRJANA. Because she waits.

  She waits for my brother.

  Davud.

  He went missing.

  He was political.

  He went missing in ’94.

  SEAN. Oh God…

  MIRJANA. Him too!

  God also went missing, Sean.

  From Sarajevo.

  SEAN. You were there in the war!

  MIRJANA. Of course.

  Of course I was there in the war.

  SEAN. Of course. Oh dear, Mirjana… how awful. I mean, I could never! I can never quite understand what happened…

  MIRJANA. I am not sure that anyone can understand…

  SEAN. And it all happened so fast.

  MIRJANA. Yes it did.

  It happened fast.

  SEAN. Nationalism, wasn’t it?

  After the the death of Tito?

  MIRJANA. All of that…

  And none of that.

  Some collective madness.

  I don’t know.

  I don’t know, Sean.

  I was only a girl…

  SEAN. I remember the terrible images on television.

  MIRJANA. And I remember them outside my window…

  SEAN. Of course…

  MIRJANA. I remember… I remember… that one day we were living… having dinner… like any ordinary family… in any ordinary city… eating peas… and the next… Chaos!

  SEAN. Really…

  MIRJANA. War comes quickly, in my experience.

  And when it comes it devours everything…

  SEAN. I cannot imagine.

  MIRJANA. No, you cannot imagine, Sean.

  Because you have always been safe here.

  And that safety is a gift.

  But it seems to me that in England you don’t treasure it.

  In England you will only know it when it is lost.

  SEAN. Gosh…

  MIRJANA. I will never go back.

  SEAN. I’m so sorry.

  MIRJANA. Why?

  It was not your war.

  And it was not mine.

  SEAN. So how did you get out?

  MIRJANA. Our home was… our home was destroyed.

  And we were in a camp.

  Myself and my mother.

  A UN camp.

  They settled us here…

  SEAN. In Digbeth?

  MIRJANA. Yes, in Digbeth.

  She smiles.

  My Nirvana!

  He smiles.

  SEAN. And were there others?

  From your family?

  MIRJANA. No.

  I… We…

  We were the only two to survive.

  SEAN. God!

  MIRJANA. My father…

  And my sister…

  SEAN. Oh no…

  MIRJANA. I’m afraid… Yes.

  SEAN. That’s dreadful… God.

  MIRJANA. She used to sit on the front step you see, my sister.

  The front step of our apartment.

  To meet her friends.

  Because ours was the side of the street that still caught a little sunshine.

  Farah, that was her name.

  Farah meaning joy.

  And she and her friends would meet.

  They would meet and smoke and kiss on our front step – despite the snipers, despite our parents’ warnings. Because… because the chaos was their world now… our world… our normal.

  And I used to watch them from my window.

  Farah Bekto.

  Sixteen.

  And I used to wish that I was her.

  So beautiful and so cool.

  Because I didn’t have her beauty.

  And I didn’t have her fashionable friends.

  Slight pause.

  But death was never far away in Sarajevo.

  And when you are young you believe that you can dance through it… escape it.

  You believe you are invincible.

  Don’t you?

  Unbreakable.

  And who wants to live in a basement when you are young?

  Who wants to live in fear?

  So she embraced it…

  We all embraced it.

  The carnage.

  And we tried to live.

  Just live.

  And it was such a beautiful night when Farah died.

  Such a warm night.

  I remember watching her.

  Two of her friends were playing guitar.

  They were singing ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

  They used to sing that song to taunt the aerial bombers.

  And I watched them.

  I watched them flirting.

  Laughing.

  But then I heard it… heard the mortar.

  So I left the window and I timed myself turning down the stairs.

  Two by two by two.

  Not scared.

  Not knowing.

  Because mortars were normal now in Sarajevo.

  Mortars filled the sky like stars.

  They came.

  They always came.

  But we always escaped.

  We could time our escape.

  It might seem hard to understand, Sean, but when you are in a war you begin to know… instinctively… just when a bomber is close… and just how many minutes you have to run… Just how many minutes…

  So I don’t know what happened that night.

  I don’t know how Farah got it wrong…

  Maybe they had some beer down there on the steps.

  Or maybe they were just having too much fun.

  But her clock.

  Farah’s inner wartime clock.

  Was seconds out.

  She was…

  They were…

  Blown to pieces…

  Pause.

  SEAN is speechless.

  That is why I like the quiet of Badgersbridge.

  That is why I will never go back.

  I live.

  I live only for my daughters.

  Farah and Grace.

  So they will know nothing.

  They will never know… that chaos.

  They both sit in silence.

  MIRJANA touches a key on the piano.

  She starts to play ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

  She plays the song.

  When she finishes, she closes the lid and rubs her hand gently over it.
/>
  I no longer own a piano.

  I miss it.

  She stands up.

  I must return to work now, Sean.

  You will call us when your mother returns?

  SEAN. Of course.

  I will.

  Certainly.

  MIRJANA. It was nice to meet you.

  She smiles.

  She turns to leave.

  SEAN. And nice… incredible… incredibly nice to meet you, Mirjana.

  MIRJANA. Very good.

  SEAN. And I might… I might… just… pop over… if that’s.

  If that’s still on offer.?

  To visit the village hall?

  MIRJANA. Of course.

  SEAN. Of course?

  MIRJANA. I think.

  I think that might be lovely… Sean Doherty.

  SEAN. Oh good…

  The lights fade.

  End.

  DEIRDRE KINAHAN

  Deirdre Kinahan is an award-winning playwright. She is an elected member of Aosdána, Ireland’s association of outstanding artists, Literary Associate with Meath County Council Arts Office and has served as a board member for the Abbey Theatre, Theatre Forum Ireland and the Stewart Parker Trust. Deirdre’s work is translated into many languages, published by Nick Hern Books and produced regularly in Ireland and on the international stage. In 2018 Deirdre has new work at the Old Vic London (Renewed with Julie Walters), the Abbey Theatre Dublin (The Unmanageable Sisters – a new version of Les Belles-Soeurs by Michel Tremblay), Fishamble Theatre Company/Abbey Theatre (Rathmines Road), Meath County Council on Tour (Me & Molly & Moo, a play for children), Solas Nua, Washington (Wild Notes), Penatabus Theatre Company UK (Crossings) and Draiocht Dublin (House). Deirdre also has a number of other writing projects in development for 2019/2020. Plays include: Rathmines Road, Crossings, The Unmanageable Sisters, Wild Sky, Spinning, Halcyon Days, Bogboy, Moment, Hue & Cry, Melody, Maisy Daly’s Rainbow. For radio: Bogboy (RTÉ) & A Bag on Ballyfinch Place (BBC). Agent Representation: Lily Williams, Curtis Brown, London. Leah Hamos, Gersh, New York. ‘A ferociously funny and unexpectedly shattering writer’– London Metro on MOMENT 2011.

  A Nick Hern Book

  Crossings first published in Great Britain in 2018 as a paperback original by Nick Hern Books Limited, The Glasshouse, 49a Goldhawk Road, London W12 8QP, in association with Pentabus Theatre Company and New Perspectives

  This ebook first published in 2018

  Crossings © 2018 Deirdre Kinahan

  Deirdre Kinahan has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  Cover design by Stephen Long

  Designed and typeset by Nick Hern Books, London

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978 1 84842 805 8 (print edition)

  ISBN 978 1 78850 117 0 (ebook edition)

  CAUTION This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. edition)

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