Russian Dolls (NHB Modern Plays)

Kate Lock

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781780017327
• Topic: Letteratura
• Subtopic: Teatro

Kate Lock's play, winner of the Adrian Pagan Award, premieres at the King's Head Theatre, Islington, in April 2016.

Hilda is blind, lives alone, and is visited by a carer once a week. Camilla is a young offender looking for her next mark. A surprising and curious relationship sparks off between these opposites as both search for connection and purpose. Kate Lock's insightful new play delves into maternal relationships and the line between friendship and family, and contrasts our current culture of blame and instant gratification with the self-worth and determination of the post-war generation.

Prologue

CAMELIA (to us). A bin liner. Fuckin bin liner! Dat’s what dey giveme for my stuff. Warden goes to me, ‘You never come inside, wiv no bag of your own.’ I go, ‘Course I did, someone must of nicked it.’ That proper slows things down which is not what I want yeah, cos Mum mightbe waitin outside the gate. And she never waits for no one. They wait for her. That’s how it goes wiv Mum. Wiv men… Then the warden, she arks me to sign all da stuff is mine. Like I can remember? I wanna get out but I ain’t goin nowhere wiv no bin liner. That ain’t never a good look. So this Caribbean warden, she’s on da gate, she goes, ‘Take you this one, gal.’ It was not my kinda bag, let me tell ya. No way my style. More like some straw basket wiv pictures of fruit an shit on da front but she is lookin straight at me. ‘Start up ya new life, new style.’ So I go, ‘You want me bring it back yeah?’ ‘Lissen. I don’t wanta never see it again. Or you. You get me?’ Then she gives me this proper serious stare. So I nod ma head and I’m outta there… into the light! Mum wasn’t pickin up and she weren’t nowhere to be seen outside da gates. She ain’t got no car!… but that’s how it come up, in my head, in colour, wiv music yeah. Mum, drivin up in some stylish BMW wiv da roof off yeah and Beyoncé like blarin out… And she brakes sudden like and leans over to open da door wiv a tray a doughnuts on da back and her in some new bikini cos we ain’t goin home, nah, we drivin to da coast, meet her new friends wiv wine coolers an beach houses, an an… But I’m still standin here wiv my fruit bag, don’t know for how long. Then I see Alice, my key social. Her like wavin across the traffic tryin get my attention.

Darkness except on HILDA’s face.

HILDA (to us). It happened just like that, Tommy Cooper style.
I was having my bath, dinner in the oven. Toad in the hole. Onion gravy. Lovely. So, I’m in the bath, getting hungry, head against the taps, I never slouch in case I drop off so the taps are there to keep me focused on the job. There’s a lot to wash these days, under the folds. It’s like a geography lesson, all those terraces for growing rice, or was it tea? From the top down to sea level in India or was it China? Then I look up out the window and I can see next door’s silver birch, waving in and out of the frame, like it was dancing with someone it didn’t want to let go of. That’s the very last thing I see.

The lights come up on HILDA’s full body.

Tried to open my eyes but they were already open. I tried to get out of the bath but I slipped and knocked myself out. Didn’t know if I’d come round,or if I was dead. Till I could smell my burning dinner. It was like I’d come to the end of the story but I was still in it.

Lights down on HILDA. Up on CAMELIA.

CAMELIA (to us). So Alice goes to me she’s bringin me straight from the Young Offenders to some new hostel. Not home. Not allow. There’ve been developments. Hate that word. It’s not houses like you’d think. New homes on some estate not quite finished. Fuckin developments… Mum’s only gone an let Troy come back so they’ve had to remove the little ’uns and keep me away. Alice goes, ‘It would be inadvisable to visit your mum’ but I don’t spar wiv her. I mean… What a fuckin job! No one likes a social, I mean no one. What I can’t believe is they went university an got some degree to get a shit job like that. And her nails! When there’s no nail left, she like bites the skin on the outside. Eats it. She don’t touch the biscuits. She’s the one who’s mental.

Lights down on CAMELIA. Up on HILDA.

HILDA (to us). You try callin nine-nine-nine with your eyes shut! And naked. Couldn’t find my clothes so I grabbed what felt like a towel or two and covered meself best I could, groping my way to the front door. Was it night or day? All I knew was I had to get myself somehow on the 431. I started shouting but nothing came back, then this Indian chappie drops out of nowhere and saves my bacon. We’re on the bus and I don’t let go of his arm. He takes off his coat and wraps it round me. Tells me he’s got a better one at home. Sees me off, and in to reception at Moorfields. Tells me I’m in good hands now or was it God’s hands? It took the doctor less than an hour to tell me there’s nothing they could do. Very nic...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Original Production
• Dedication
• Characters
• Russian Dolls
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information