The Night Alive

Conor McPherson

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN:
  9781848423367
• eBook ISBN:
  9781780012339
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

An inimitably warm and stylish play that deftly mines the humanity to be found in the most unlikely of situations.

Tommy's not a bad man, he's getting by. Renting a run-down room in his uncle Maurice's house, just about keeping his ex-wife and kids at arm's length and rolling from one get-rich-quick scheme to the other with his pal Doc. Then one day he comes to the aid of Aimee, who's not had it easy herself, struggling through life the only way she knows how. Their past won't let go easily. But together there's a glimmer of hope they could make something more of their lives. Something extraordinary. Perhaps.

The Night Alive premiered at the Donmar Warehouse, London, in June 2013, before transferring to the Atlantic Theater in New York. It was named Best New Play at the New York Drama Critics' Circle Awards 2014.

The first-floor drawing room of an Edwardian house near the Phoenix Park in Dublin. High double doors lead to a small metal balcony with steps down to the rear garden. The room is now a bedsit. It is cluttered and messy. Boxes of knick-knacks and old newspapers and magazines are piled into corners, spilling out on to a single bed on one side of the room and a camp bed on the other. There is a battered old armchair, a foldaway chair or two. A door leads to a little toilet that has been built in one corner. Another door leads to the landing and the rest of the house.

There is a little gas hob and a sink with dirty dishes and saucepans piled into it. There is a framed poster of Steve McQueen on his motorbike from the movie The Great Escape, a framed poster of Marvin Gaye’s album cover, What’s Going On?, and two posters advertising Finland as a holiday destination.

As the play begins, moonlight pours in through the double doors from the balcony. The door to the hallway is open and electric light spills in from the landing. An elderly gentleman, MAURICE, is standing in the room looking out at the garden. He wears pyjamas and a dressing gown and carries a walking stick. He stands still for a moment until distant church bells and a dog barking somewhere stir him from his reverie. He looks about the room in disgust. He lifts a garment or two with his stick, wondering how anyone can live like this. He hears voices approaching and hurries quietly off upstairs.

We hear voices coming from the garden:

TOMMY (offstage). Now, that’s it. Yeah. This is it. Up the steps. Are you alright? That’s it. Head back. Nice and easy. Around here now. This is us.

We see TOMMY leading AIMEE in. He is in his fifties, well built but well worn. She is in her twenties, skinny and also well worn. She holds her head back, pressing TOMMY’s Dublin Gaelic football tracksuit top to her face. It is covered in blood. She stands there while TOMMY goes and switches on a little lamp.

Come in we’ll sit you down and we can have a look.

The lamp blinks off again.

Ah balls! Hold on. You don’t have a euro? No, it’s alright. I’ll jimmy the lock. I’ll just grab this.

He goes to a few drawers and roots noisily around unsuccessfully in the gloom before he finally finds a hammer amid the detritus on the counter. He takes the hammer and uses it to tap the meter open. He takes a coin from the drawer and sticks it back in the slot.

Out she pops and back in the slot.

He turns the dial and the lamp pops back on again.

Now. That’s it.

He climbs down off the chair.

Now come here till we have a look at you. Sit down here. There we go.

He shifts a pile of crap off the armchair and sits AIMEE down.

AIMEE. Your jacket is wrecked.

TOMMY. Don’t mind that, I’ll bang that in the washing machine. Show me.

AIMEE lets TOMMY gently pull the tracksuit top away from her face. Her nose has bled down her chin and onto her clothes. TOMMY adjusts her head so he can see.

Well, the bleeding has stopped.

AIMEE. Is it broken?

TOMMY. I don’t know, love – it looks swollen.

AIMEE. I have a big nose anyway.

TOMMY. Like very big?

AIMEE. Big enough.

TOMMY. Was it always crooked?

AIMEE. Yeah, a bit.

TOMMY. Crooked to the left or the right?

AIMEE. The left.

TOMMY. To my left?

AIMEE. Yeah.

TOMMY. Okay. Then I don’t think he broke it.

TOMMY goes rooting through a cupboard near the sink. He finds a little plastic bowl and a tea towel.

Do you think you might get sick again?

AIMEE. No.

He runs some water and wets the towel, bringing the bowl to AIMEE.

TOMMY. You can use this if you are.

AIMEE. Thanks.

She holds the bowl on her lap.

TOMMY. Up to me, love, we wipe this up a bit.

She raises her face to him and winces while he wipes her face.

Wup, sorry, too hard. That alright?

AIMEE gives a tiny nod. TOMMY cleans her face.
She takes the towel from him and cleans it herself.

God, I wonder should we ring an ambulance.

AIMEE. No.

TOMMY. No?

AIMEE. No, it’ll be alright.

TOMMY. I could run you down to the hospital.

AIMEE. No, they’ll ring the guards.

TOMMY. Will they?

AIMEE. Yeah, they’ll think it was you.

TOMMY. They’d think it was me?!

AIMEE. Probably.

TOMMY. Well, look… I certainly don’t need that, so…

AIMEE. I don’t want the guards.

TOMMY. No, you don’t want the bleeding guards in all over it. (Looks at her face.) Well, now I’m not an expert, but in my [opinion]… I would say, that it’s probably going to be [alright]… You see, I’ve no ice! I’ve no fridge!

He throws his eye ineffectually around the room for something that might substitute for ice.

AIMEE. Can I use your bathroom?

TOMMY. Yeah! (Indicating the door in the corner of the room.) There’s a little toilet in there, or there’s a bigger, proper bathroom down the landing out there.

AIMEE. No that’s fine.

AIMEE gets up.

TOMMY. Wait, hold on.

TOMMY bolts towards the little loo. He switches the light on and goes in. We hear the toilet flush. TOMMY bangs around trying to make it presentable. AIMEE stands waiting, gingerly touching her nose. She goes to a little mirror above the sink and has a look. TOMMY comes out, grabs a two-pack of toilet rolls, smiles apologetically at AIMEE, ho...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Characters
• The Night Alive
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information