Placey Consensual

1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-1-78001-664-1
Verlag: Nick Hern Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 88 Seiten

Reihe: NHB Modern Plays

An explosive and thought-provoking play from the author of Girls Like That, exploring what happens when buried secrets catch up with you. As Head of Year 11, Diane is meant to be implementing the new 'Healthy Relationships' curriculum. But then Freddie arrives. She hasn't seen him since that night six years earlier when he was fifteen. She thinks he took advantage of her. He thinks she groomed him for months. Neither is sure. But when it comes to sex and consent, how far can you blur the lines? Evan Placey's Consensual was first performed by the National Youth Theatre in their 2015 West End season.

Evan Placey is a Canadian-British playwright who grew up in Toronto and now lives in London, England. His plays include: Lifers (Synergy Theatre Project at Southwark Playhouse, 2025); Peter Pan with Vikki Stone (Rose Theatre, Kingston, 2023); Jekyll & Hyde (National Youth Theatre, 2017 West End season); Consensual (National Youth Theatre, 2015 West End season); Girls Like That (Synergy/Unicorn Theatre; first produced and commissioned by Birmingham Repertory Theatre, Theatre Royal Plymouth and West Yorkshire Playhouse, 2013; winner of the Writers' Guild Award for Best Play for Young Audiences); Mother of Him (Courtyard Theatre; winner of the King's Cross Award for New Writing, RBC National Playwriting Competition, Canada, and the Samuel French Canadian Play Contest); Banana Boys (Hampstead Theatre); Suicide(s) in Vegas (Canadian tour; Centaur Theatre Award nomination); Scarberia (Forward Theatre Project/York Theatre Royal); How Was It For You? (Unicorn Theatre); Holloway Jones (Synergy Theatre Project/schools tour/Unicorn Theatre; winner of the Brian Way Award 2012 for Best Play for Young People; Writers' Guild Award nomination); WiLd! (tutti frutti/UK tour and USA); and Pronoun (National Theatre Connections festival, 2014). Work for radio includes Mother of Him (BBC Radio 3/Little Brother Productions). Evan is a Creative Fellow and Lecturer at the University of Southampton, and also teaches playwriting to young people for various theatres, and also in prisons.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Placey, Evan

Leseproben

PART ONE: AFTER

Prologue

The STUDENTS, in uniform, invade the stage. They’re chatty, noisy. One of the STUDENTS has started beatboxing and the others have joined in singing. Despite the slight chaos of the scene, there’s a unity to the singing. Even the kids who wouldn’t normally be part of the crowd singing are enjoying themselves. There’s also chatter over the top of and during the singing. There’s something about their energy that’s animal, that’s frightening, that’s sexy.

And then all at once, the STUDENTS simultaneously stop singing/talking as they turn to look at:

Scene One

A pub. Afternoon.

DIANE and FREDDIE sit at a table across from each other. DIANE is seven months pregnant.

DIANE sips a tea, FREDDIE a pint of beer.

FREDDIE. You been to those classes, learn how to do nappies and that?

DIANE. No.

FREDDIE. You not worried you gonna put it on backwards or something?

DIANE. It’s not my first.

FREDDIE. Oh right. How old is…?

DIANE. Why are we here?

FREDDIE. You chose it.

DIANE. I don’t mean the place.

FREDDIE. Bit of a shithole if you don’t mind me saying.

DIANE. Why would I mind?

FREDDIE. Just in case it’s like your favourite pub or something.

DIANE. I’ve never been here before.

FREDDIE. Just thought since you

Oh, right. Right.

DIANE. What?

FREDDIE. Nothing. (Smiles.)

DIANE. Sorry your tie’s gone to waste.

FREDDIE. Nah, it’s my work ensemble. Barclays.

Why is that funny?

DIANE. It’s not.

FREDDIE. You don’t think I’m smart enough to work in a bank?

DIANE. I didn’t… Freddie, why are we here?

FREDDIE. No one calls me that. Not a kid any more. ’S Frederick now.

DIANE. Frederick. Who works in a bank. In his ensemble.

FREDDIE. Are you making fun of me?

DIANE. No.

Yes. (Laughs.) Just doesn’t seem like…

It’s not you.

FREDDIE. How would you know? You don’t know me any more.

DIANE. No. You’re right.

Beat.

FREDDIE (laughs). Christ, it’s so not me. (Takes his tie off.)

Sometimes catch myself in the mirror and it’s like who’s the kid who’s come to work in their dad’s clothes. (Unbuttons shirt.) Just something for the moment, get some experience, try to realise all that unfulfilled potential everyone was always telling me I had.

By now he’s taken off his shirt and hung it with his tie over the chair and sits in a vest. DIANE, uncomfortable, focuses on his face so as to not look at his body.

There’s kids, right, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, starting businesses in their bedrooms, and they’re bringing in thousands, only just getting their first pubes and they’re like CEOs. I’m only twenty-two but I got like years to catch up on those little bed-wetters. And what if I’d done that. Do that a lot. Maybe if, what if, undo all the regrets in my head and see where I’d end up. Like this – (Stands, pulls up his vest to show a scar just below his belly button.) See that? Some stupid bar scrap when I was nineteen, don’t even remember what it was about but ended up with piece of beer glass here. Can you see how there’s no hair on that bit, like this sudden gap in the trail, and what if I’d just gone home, not ordered that extra pint?

He can see she’s uncomfortable, pulls his vest back down.

DIANE. You need to say it. You have to actually say it, Freddie. Frederick.

FREDDIE. Say what?

DIANE. You have to actually say sorry. You can’t just say there’s regrets. You have to –

FREDDIE. Say sorry for what?

Pause.

Say sorry for what?

DIANE. Why did you text me? Why after seven years did you tell me we needed to meet? We had to meet?

Beat. She looks at her watch.

FREDDIE. You still got twenty minutes.

Lunch still ends at 1:25. I checked.

DIANE. I don’t work there any more.

FREDDIE. No?

DIANE. I left. After… Maybe you didn’t notice. But I left.

FREDDIE. I noticed. I missed you. Me and all the other retards.

DIANE. Don’t –

FREDDIE. We did though.

DIANE. You’re not a

FREDDIE. I am. Well, I was. Remember seeing my photo up on the staffroom wall. ‘At risk’ it said above our mug shots, me and all the other retards. Though at risk of what it didn’t say.

DIANE. It’s not a very nice word.

FREDDIE. Where do you work now?

DIANE. For an environmental company. A charity. We run campaigns. Get people to think about how they can modify their behaviour, in really practical ways, to lower their carbon footprint.

FREDDIE. Oh. Right. And does it change things? One person with a thermal mug, a bag for life?

DIANE. Yes.

I don’t know.

Maybe – it’s depressing – but maybe one person doesn’t have an impact. Maybe all they have is a tiny little imprint.

FREDDIE. But multiple imprints eventually make a dent. And people take notice.

Beat. This has hit something in her. It’s become suddenly intimate.

DIANE. I should go. I need, I need to go.

FREDDIE. To work?

DIANE. Yes. No. Yes.

I don’t work for an environmental charity.

FREDDIE. What do you mean?

DIANE. I made it up.

FREDDIE. Why would you make that up?

DIANE. I don’t know.

FREDDIE. Were you afraid I was going to show up there? Because if that’s what I’d wanted to do, if that’s the kind of person I am, I would have done that already.

DIANE. You know I didn’t go back there.

FREDDIE. Not while I was there, no. Not as a pastoral assistant, no.

You did a PGCE then went back as a geography teacher

You married Pete, wore your hair in a braid for the wedding

You honeymooned on the Amalfi Coast

You briefly dyed your hair brown

You still wear that red cardigan even though it doesn’t fit as well

You’re head of Year 10

Three years ago you became a vegetarian

Last weekend you baked peanut-butter cookies

You do think no one cares about how we’re destroying the planet, but you don’t work for an environmental charity.

Beat. She stands to leave.

Where are you going? It’s still sixteen minutes before next lesson.

DIANE. What is this, Freddie, Frederick? You’re stalking me?

FREDDIE. Did you never look me up? Never on a bored Saturday afternoon, just wonder… does he have a girlfriend? A goatee? Just do a harmless Twitter or Facebook search?

DIANE. No.

I shouldn’t have come.

Goodbye, Freddie.

FREDDIE. My dad died.

A glass somewhere in the bar breaks. They both watch.

DIANE sits.

DIANE. I’m sorry.

FREDDIE. A week ago. Bastard finally drank himself to death.

You probably don’t remember, but one time, we were in your office. I was crying. Told you my mum was gone, had a brother who did fuck-all, and had a dad who didn’t love me. And you told me he did, of course he did. He was just too afraid to show it. You probably don’t remember.

DIANE. I remember.

FREDDIE. The night he died he’s lying in hospital drugged-up and he takes my hands. Like properly takes them. (Takes her hands.) And he says, swear to god, ‘I love you, son. I know I was never very good at sayin’ it. Maybe cos my dad never said it to me, so was too scared to. But I love you.

Jake. I love you, Jake. Not like that faggot brother of yours. I tried, god knows I tried. But the thing with Freddie is he wants it too much. You can smell it when he walks into a room. He just so desperately wants to be loved that I couldn’t stand to look at him. Like one of them manky wet foxes you’d find by the bins, staring up at you, longing in their eyes. Just makes you want to kick the shit out of them.’

Pause.

Dad was right. People can smell it on me. The fellas at work always taking the mick cos they know I’ll take it. My last girlfriend who told me I was too needy.

So how did you know?

DIANE. Know what?

FREDDIE. How did you, why did you choose me?

DIANE. I don’t know what you mean.

FREDDIE. Dammit, can you just – ! If I knew what it is that people see in me, what they smell on me that –

If I knew what you saw in me so you knew you could…

DIANE. Could what?

FREDDIE. You know.

DIANE. No. I don’t, Freddie.

FREDDIE. Groom me. If I knew what it was that you saw, so that you knew that you could groom me, that you could…

She laughs incredulously.

DIANE. Are you insane? Freddie? Are you insane?

FREDDIE. No.

DIANE. You think I – ?! You actually think –

FREDDIE. I don’t think anything. I remember.

DIANE. What do you remember, Freddie?

FREDDIE. Got me to trust you. You made it so I became dependent on you. So you could exploit that trust, that dependency. And take advantage of me.

DIANE. You showed up at my house.

FREDDIE. You gave me your number.

DIANE. You came on to me.

FREDDIE. You told me I had a good body. Told me to get undressed. You got me drunk and then had sex with me.

DIANE. I’m pretty sure you got what you wanted. And then some, as I remember it.

FREDDIE. It doesn’t matter what I wanted. What I thought I wanted. I wasn’t...