PASSING PLACES
Stephen Greenhorn
Stephen Greenhorn was born in West Lothian and has been writing professionally since 1988. His stage plays include Heart and Bone (Edinburgh Festival Fringe First Award); two childrenās plays for Visible Fictions; The Salt Wound (7:84 Scotland); a version of Aristophanesā The Birds (Gate, London); co-author of Sleeping Around (Paines Plough, 1998); Passing Places (Traverse, 1997, and tour 1998).
His television work includes episodes of The Bill and Where the Heart Is. He has written three plays for BBC Radio 4 and a radio version of Passing Places for Radio 3.
He is currently writing the screenplay of Passing Places for BBC Films and is under commission to 7:84 Scotland for Dissent.
1
ALEX and BRIAN enter.
ALEX. Motherwell!
BRIAN. West central Scotland. Population 27,000.
ALEX. Work base . . .
BRIAN. Traditionally . . . heavy industry . . . predominantly steel . . .
ALEX. And now . . .
BRIAN shrugs.
ALEX. Alright . . . Famous for . . .
BRIAN. Winning the Scottish Cup in extra time?
ALEX. And . . . ?
BRIAN. And!
ALEX. Surfing.
BRIAN. Oh. Yeah. Surfing.
ALEX. Motherwell. Surf City. The Bondi Beach of Lanarkshire. Malibu of the North.
BRIAN. Ideally situated.
ALEX. Twenty-five miles from the fucking sea!
2
The shop. Doorbell goes as the KID enters. Thirteen going on thirty.
ALEX. What do you want?
KID. Chill man. Iāve been saving up. Iām looking for a new pair of Air Jordans.
ALEX. How much have you got?
KID. Here.
KID slaps a bunch of notes on the counter.
ALEX counts them.
ALEX. Not enough. Unless youāre one-legged.
KID. Aw no. What about instalments?
ALEX. Aye. You can buy one shoe now and hop it.
KID. Very funny.
ALEX. Away and mug somebody.
KID. Nobody round here worth mugging.
ALEX. Beat it then.
KID. Cool the beans, pal. Iām going. But Iāll be back.
He goes to the door.
KID. Here.
ALEX. What?
He waves sarcastically.
KID. Thereās a wee wave for your surf-board.
ALEX. Get to fuck!
KID exits laughing. ALEX regards the surf-board.
ALEX. Two years that bastard thingās been in the window. Two years! And Iāve had to dust it every second day. All because he thinks heās the Don-fucking-Jonson of Meikle Earnock!
BRIAN interjects from the Library.
BRIAN. Three hundred and twelve!
ALEX. Eh?
BRIAN. Three times a week for two years not counting holidays.
ALEX scowls at him.
ALEX. The library! Hang out for pensioners who canāt pay their gas bills. Ex-steelworkers who canāt bring themselves to watch Australian soap-operas. Jakeys who fall asleep over The Independent . . . And Brian!
BRIAN. I was just saying!
3
Shop doorbell interrupts. BINKS enters.
ALEX. Mr. Binks, I thought . . .
BINKS. Shut it, arse-face.
He goes behind the counter, rakes for an empty shoe box then takes a hand-gun from his waistband, wraps it and stashes it in the box. He stores the box back under the counter. ALEX is staring.
BINKS. Whatāre you looking at?
ALEX. Nothing.
BINKS. Thatās right. And donāt you . . . Eh? . . . Aye.
ALEX. Sorry?
BINKS. Am I speaking to you?
ALEX. But you . . .
BINKS. Ronnieās saying you have to be deaf, dumb and blind to work here.
ALEX. Dumb anyway.
BINKS. Eh?
ALEX. Nothing.
BINKS. Dinnae mutter son. I cannae stand muttering.
ALEX. Sorry, Mr. Binks.
BINKS moves to the surf-board. He strokes it.
BINKS. When was the last time you dusted my wee beauty here?
ALEX. Yesterday.
BINKS. Do it again.
ALEX. But . . .
BINKS. Again, I said!
ALEX. It . . . eh . . . it doesnāt have a price on it.
BINKS. Thatās ācause itās not for sale, ya retard. Right?
ALEX. So if anyone asks about it . . . ?
BINKS. Are you deaf? Itās not for fucking sale. This is my retirement. My pension plan. In a few yearsā time me and Ronnie and this wee beautyāll be jetting off to a beach house in Hawaii. So long Lanarkshire, hello Honolulu! Wearing flowery shirts, chasing birds in grass skirts, drinking Buckie out of half-coconuts. Fucking paradise.
ALEX. Aye.
BINKS. So make sure you run a fucking duster over it before I come back this afternoon.
Eh? . . . Aye. Right enough, Ronnie . . . Dumb! Dumb as a . . . doorbell.
He exits.
ALEX. Fucking psycho.
BRIAN. Mr. Binks is subject to a bizarre paranormal phenomenon wh...