If Only (NHB Modern Plays)

David Edgar

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781780012575
• Topic: Letteratura
• Subtopic: Teatro

An explosive, topical drama from one of the UK's top political playwrights.

It's 16th April 2010, the day after the UK's first ever televised prime ministerial debate. Stranded in Malaga Airport by a volcanic ash-cloud, a Labour special adviser, a Lib Dem staffer and a Tory candidate consider their options. Can their parties survive without them? How will they get back home? And who'll end up in government?

Fast forward to 4th August 2014. As the nation settles down to commemorate the outbreak of the First World War, the three politicians meet again. One of them knows something that could change the outcome of the 2015 election. Should they reveal it? And at what cost?

'funny, gripping and bang on the money' Telegraph

'fascinating... clearly meticulously researched' Guardian

'witty and very clever... hilarious' British Theatre Guide

Characters

PETER GREATOREX, Conservative, early forties

JO LAMBERT, Liberal Democrat, late thirties

SAM HUNT, Labour, around forty

HANNAH, seventeen

Setting

The play is set in Spain, France, England and Belgium, in the spring of 2010 and the summer of 2014.

Note on the Text

A dash (–) means that a character is interrupted. A forward slash (/) means that the next character to speak starts speaking at that point.

The second half of the play concerns the future of the coalition government. This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

ACT ONE

Scene One

Friday 16 April 2010. Mid-afternoon.

The landside of the departure building at Malaga Airport in Southern Spain. There is a cacophony of announcements in Spanish, with the occasional burst of English, confirming that all flights to all Central and Northern European destinations are cancelled, advising passengers to contact their airlines and not to leave their luggage unattended.

JO, wearing headphones and a bridesmaid’s outfit, is standing with her baggage trolley, with her laptop propped up on her luggage alongside a rather battered bridal bouquet, watching something on her computer. Beside her is some unaccompanied luggage without a trolley, on top of which rests a grey top hat.

PETER strides in, wearing morning dress, but with his tie loosed, his collar open and his waistcoat unbuttoned, carrying a sandwich. He is in great annoyance.

PETER. Well, it’s seven kinds of hell out there.

JO shrugs.

Displays are still announcing final calls for flights which didn’t leave five hours ago. There’s no information at information and there’s queues to join the queues. The loos are an affront to health and safety. And that’s not to mention the cafeteria, where they have run out of anything with chicken, proper ham or cheese and pickle and are only serving rolls shaped like torpedoes full of rocket and chorizo.

He waves his sandwich as JO takes off her headphones.

JO. Sorry?

PETER. I was saying they’ve run out of cheese and pickle sandwiches.

JO. You should have done what I did, and nicked a stash from breakfast. (Hunting in her hand luggage.) Do you want a croissant, or a pain au chocolat. Or – I think, yes, a piece of cake.

PETER. Cake would be nice.

She hands over a piece of cake wrapped in napkin.

Thanks very much.

JO. Don’t mention it.

PETER takes a bite.

PETER. Mm.

JO. It was thrust into my shoulder bag by the best man as we left. In lieu of – whatever best men traditionally do to bridesmaids.

PETER. Ah. And you got the bouquet.

JO. Clearly, misdirected.

PETER. Like the volcanic ash. Is there any news on British airspace?

JO. I’m watching something else.

PETER (taking out his phone and dialling). What, you’re taking in a movie?

JO. A historic moment. The first prime ministerial debate.

PETER. I thought it was last night.

JO (obvious). So I’m watching it on iPlayer.

PETER. In that case, I will try to call our airline and find out what the hell is going on.

PETER listens to the phone ring.

JO. Oh, by the way. David Cameron has met a black man in Plymouth.

PETER (on phone). Hallo, is that…? Oh, bloody hell.

JO (putting her headphones back in). And he thinks we’re not locking burglars up enough. Hold the front page.

PETER. Oh, why not. (Dictating to a voice-recognition machine.) Malaga.

JO. Ooh, and Gordon Brown cracked a joke.

PETER (on phone). Yes.

JO. ‘It’s not question time, it’s answer time.’

PETER (on phone, scrabbling for documentation). FR213.

JO. And he agrees with Nick.

PETER (on phone). Yes. What?

JO. On everything it seems.

PETER (on phone). Hallo?

JO. And, hey. Nick used my line.

PETER’s line’s gone. He ends the call. JO pulls off her headphones. During this, SAM appears with his luggage. He’s tieless, but wearing a lightweight suit.

I bet you’re all kicking yourselves now.

PETER. Oh, what about?

JO (taps the screen). Agreeing to debate.

PETER. You should conserve your battery.

JO. What about your phone?

PETER. I am using it for an urgent purpose which touches directly on both our lives.

JO. Me too. And I have an European adaptor.

PETER. There’s queues for wall sockets. Longer than the queues for the cafeteria.

JO. That’ll be because of the torpedoes.

SAM has recognised JO.

PETER. What line?

JO. I’m sorry?

PETER. You said ‘he used my line’.

JO. ‘The more they attack each other, the more they sound the same.’

SAM. And do you think that’s true?

JO. Oh, gosh.

PETER. Um…

JO. Sam.

SAM. So, what are you…?

JO. I might ask you the same question.

SAM. Well, I’m not dressed as a debutante.

JO (gesturing at the bouquet). Try and work it out.

SAM. And shouldn’t you be back at Cowley Street ironing out the kinks in your Pet Passport policy?

JO. And shouldn’t you be back in Downing Street running the country even further into the ground?

SAM. No, actually, when they call a general election –

JO. My sister’s wedding. Mijas Costa, a little way along the coast. They’d just cut the cake when we heard a rumour that French airspace was going to be reopened in an hour for an hour. And you?

SAM. A post-Copenhagen pre-Mexico climate-change briefing in Kolkata. Diverted to Tbilisi, Istanbul and here. When you say ‘we’?

JO. Uh – this is Peter.

SAM (registering PETER). Best man?

JO. Bridegroom’s cousin.

PETER. Uncle, but thank you. And when you…

SAM. A Family Connection?

JO. Merely geographical.

PETER. When you say –

SAM. Yeovil?

JO. Well, congratulations.

SAM. And everybody else?

JO. Is ‘making a weekend of it...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Dedication
• Characters
• If Only
• Timeline
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information