Fatty and Skinny Go To Work

                     FATTY and SKINNY

- mythical figures from the non-indigenous dreamtime -

                 Go To Work (1950-1960)

                     by TIM GOODING

"Go To Work" is the 1st play in the FATTY and SKINNY series:

1. "FATTY and SKINNY Go To Work (1950-1960)"
2. "FATTY and SKINNY Meet A Woman (1960-1970)"
3. "FATTY and SKINNY Go To War (1970-1980)"
4. "Vote 1 FATTY for PM (1980-1990)"
5. "FATTY and SKINNY Get Rich And Famous (1990-?)"

(c)     Tim Gooding
         May 2006

Characters

A minimum seven actors are required, some in double roles, as follows.

1.    RON (FATTY) WALLACE

2.    BRIAN (SKINNY) O'BRIEN

3.    PHYLLIS WILLIS
       MINNIE JONES

4.    HOBBSIE
       GOLDFINCH
       LEONARD THORPE

5.    SHORT OWEN JONES

6.    HUGHIE MURDOCH
       BILLY (TACKHEAD) BAKER

7.    ALBERTO (CHOCKO) VELLA    
       ROBERT (JOCKEY) JONES        

The action occurs in The Bay.

Scene 1

(A cottage front door. Surrounded by darkness. The sound of distant surf. RON (FATTY) enters. Aged 14. Rotund. Violent red hair and  translucent pink eyelids to match. Wearing the impoverished approximation of a 1950s public school uniform. An antipodean Billy Bunter. On a covert mission. He looks round for BRIAN (SKINNY), who - supposedly following - is nowhere in sight.

RON
(whispers)
Skinny? Skinny. Skinny.

(BRIAN enters. Aged 13. Thin, weedy. Vaguely school uniformed. Tightly belted pants crinkle at his underdeveloped waist. His shorts are too short, as are his shirt sleeves. Head and neck protrude from his collar like a cartoon tortoise. His left arm is in a sling. He hangs back, afraid.)

RON
Don't be a sook. He's asleep.

BRIAN
I feel sick.

RON
You want a Chinese Burn?

(RON extracts a crumpled paper from his pocket. It rustles. BRIAN turns to go. RON seizes his wrist in a Chinese Burn.)

BRIAN
I've got chalky bones.

(RON releases him. Slips the paper under the doorknocker. Produces a large paper bag. Holds it open. Waits. BRIAN stares at it.)

RON
Hurry up.

BRIAN
What if he catches us?

RON
He won't.

BRIAN
What if he does?

RON
He won't.

BRIAN
We'll get into trouble.

RON
We won't.

BRIAN
I will. I'm not leaving till August.

RON
He broke your collarbone.

BRIAN
That was Chocko. He broke my wrist too. Showing off to Fay Jones. She said there was no such thing as chalky bones. Hobbsie broke my arm.

RON
I thought we were mates.

(BRIAN pulls down his shorts and squats over the paper bag.)
 
RON
Give him something to remember us by.

BRIAN
He'll remember me on monday. When you're down the pit and I'm not.

RON
Say I made you do it. He hates me. He hates my hair. He specially hates my fat.

BRIAN
And your stupid questions.

RON
They're not stupid questions. Can I have another Anzac biscuit?

(BRIAN locates an Anzac biscuit in his pocket.)
 
RON
Mm, these are good, Skinny. Can you make them bigger next time?

(BRIAN can't oblige the paper bag.)

BRIAN
I'm too nervous.
RON

Keep trying.

BRIAN
I'm not going down the pit. I'm afraid of the dark.

(RON closes his eyes, with a certain grim ceremony.)

RON
I see you getting a line of scabs down your back with the rest of us.

BRIAN
I'm starting my own business. Lawnmowing. You can work for me.

RON
You haven't got a mower.

BRIAN
I'll save up.

RON
You'll have to get a job first. In the pit.

(BRIAN vainly fights back tears. Takes out a handkerchief.)

RON
Don't start crying. Stop crying. I'm saving up for a boat. To sail right out of this dump.

BRIAN
The Bay's the greatest little town God ever stuck legs on. Dad said.

(As BRIAN keeps trying..

A shrill, nonstop, train whistle begins in the distance.)

RON
Kathleen.

BRIAN
Kathleen.

(They commentate as the whistle traces a familiar sonic pattern on its run from pit to weighbridge. The tone changes somewhat with location, while trending louder, more piercing, overall.)

RON
Last run. Down from the screens.

BRIAN
Through the level crossing.

RON
Round the curve. Up the bank.

BRIAN
Under the white bridge.

RON
Past the cemetery.

BRIAN
Into the weighbridge sidings.

(The whistle dies.)

RON
Hurry up.

(BRIAN still can't oblige the paper bag.)

BRIAN
I can't do it. I'm bunged up.

RON
Hold the bag.

(RON squats over it.)
 
RON
Any more Anzac biscuits?

BRIAN
Last one.

(RON breaks off a small portion for BRIAN. Devours the rest.)

RON
Here she comes.

BRIAN
Oh!

(RON succeeds where BRIAN failed,)

RON
There's more.

(RON continues, to completion.)

BRIAN
What a beauty.

(RON folds the top of the bag over.)

RON
Matches.

BRIAN
I forgot.

RON
You forgot on purpose. So you can run home. You're a flaming sook, Brian.

(BRIAN offers his arm for Chinese Burning.)
 
RON
April fool.

(RON produces his own matches. Lights paper bag. It flames.)

BRIAN
Happy birthday.

RON
Thanks, mate.

(They exchange their secret handshake: RON'S fist hits down on BRIAN'S fist, BRIAN'S hits down on RON'S, then both hit own foreheads with own fists, as in the old ice cream cone joke.

After which RON knocks on the door, and they run and hide.

HOBBSIE opens the door. Tall. Cheap suit. Harried. Younger than he looks. Educated cod-English voice of the time. Hand rolls Log Cabin. He sees the flaming object on his front stoop and vigorously stamps it out. With predictable, lengthy, results.)

HOBBSIE
Don't think I don't know it's you, Wallace. That hair of yours will give you away every time. And don't think I don't know you're with him, O'Brien.

(Silence from the surrounding darkness.)

HOBBSIE
A final statement on your education, is it? Before the pit swallows you up? I tried.

(He hurls a rock into the darkness. Without luck.)

HOBBSIE
Happy birthday, Wallace. Did one of you drop a handkerchief?

BRIAN (OFF)
(whispers)
He's got my hankie -

HOBBSIE
There's a name sewn on it. Ah. The runniest nose in the school.

BRIAN (OFF)
He's got my hankie -

HOBBSIE
I'm getting the police.

BRIAN (OFF)
He's getting the police!

RON (OFF)
Skinny -

BRIAN
He's getting the police!

RON (OFF)
Brian -

(BRIAN enters. In tears. HOBBSIE seizes him by the ear.)

BRIAN
Don't get the police, sir. I didn't do anything, sir.

(BRIAN pulls his handkerchief from his pocket. And realises.)

HOBBSIE
April Fool. I'm getting the police, Wallace.

BRIAN
He's getting the police! He's getting the police!

HOBBSIE
Letting your best mate take the rap, are you? What sort of coward  lets his mate go to gaol for him?

BRIAN
I don't want to go gaol! Ron!

RON (OFF)
You're not going to gaol!

HOBBSIE
According to the law, you've committed a serious assault.

BRIAN
He made me do it, sir. I'm bunged up anyway, sir. Ron! Tell him I'm bunged up.

(RON enters.)

RON
I made him do it. Sir.

BRIAN
He made me do it, sir.

RON
Let him go, sir?

(HOBBSIE looks down at his (HOBBSIE's) befouled shoes.)

HOBBSIE
Do you have a toothbrush, Wallace?

RON
I don't know. No. Sir.

HOBBSIE
Fetch it. Then I'll let him go.

(Beat.)

HOBBSIE
April Fool. Come here.

(HOBBSIE lifts RON skyward by the ear. Releases BRIAN.)

HOBBSIE
Fetch Constable Vella.

(BRIAN scuttles away. HOBBSIE removes his befouled shoes.)

HOBBSIE
I thought I'd seen the last of you. You're a clown, son. What are you?

RON
A clown, sir.

HOBBSIE
Sit.

(RON opts to run. HOBBSIE restrains him. RON sits.)

HOBBSIE
I've seen your grotesque efforts at athletics, Wallace. I can outrun you in my socks.

(HOBBSIE spots the paper under the doorknocker. Opens it. Reads. RON stares at him.)

HOBBSIE
(reads aloud)
"Why is it the quiet ones you've got to watch?" What is this?

RON
It's a list.

RON
Lots of things don't make sense. Sir.

RON
I don't know.

RON
It doesn't make sense, sir.

HOBBSIE
Inherited wealth and position, Wallace. One of many inequalities our system relies upon. Marx -

(RON continues to stare. Almost in a trance.)

RON
Little flecks of white foam stretch in the corner of your mouth when you talk. Sir. Like tiny elastic bands.

(Beat.)

RON
It just came out, sir. Sometimes voices come out of my mouth before I can stop them. They sound like me but they're not me. They just come out. It's not me staring either.

HOBBSIE
I'm glad we're finally having this talk, Wallace.

HOBBSIE
You were never really there, were you? Can you really see through your eyelids?

(RON closes his eyes.)

RON
I see Gallipoli.

HOBBSIE
On the classroom wall. The mural.

RON
(eyes closed)
I see Great Uncle Bill carrying his mate down the hill through the explosions.

HOBBSIE
Now? You can see him now?

RON
(eyes closed)
I see Great Uncle Bill hit, and a can of bully beef fly out of his pocket, bounce down the hill, and splash into the sea. When I see history I usually see food in it. You never believed me.

HOBBSIE
I'm starting to.

RON
Dad said Great Uncle Bill died looking after his mate.
(eyes closed)
I see W.E. Wallace M.M. in gold letters on the Honour Roll, while Phyllis Willis hangs upside down on the goalposts out the window, sucking a Choo Choo bar. Her lips are black and her underpants are blue.

HOBBSIE
You don't have to go down the pit, you know, Wallace.

RON
Dad put me on the list the day I started school. I was going to work beside him. He was killed by a runaway skip in E tunnel. During the war. When coalmining was a protected occupation.

HOBBSIE
Herbert has a trainee position in a bank. You could do something like that. Work with your brain.

RON
In a bank?
(eyes closed)
I see a pit with windows. And workers with ties.

HOBBSIE
There's no future in coal. The machines are here, son.

RON
I can't leave Skinny. He's got chalky bones and his mum's always sick. And the Japs drove his dad to drink.

HOBBSIE
Skinny will survive without you.

RON
They'll break every bone in his body.

HOBBSIE
He's not at school for much longer. The Bay is too small for you, Wallace. When you aren't staring at me, you know you stare out the window.

(RON closes his eyes.)

RON
I see the dunes moving inland. Sand is creeping into the cemetery. I see a picture of bones. I see weed washing up on the beach. And a boat with me and Skinny in it putting out to sea.

HOBBSIE
Going where?

RON
To see the longest river in the world. The Nile. The highest mountain. Mount Everest. The capital of Venezuela. Caracas. The pygmy Bushmen of the Kalahari Desert and the Blue Men of Morocco and the Yellow Peril of Asia. Then your duster hits me. And I wake up. And I'm still here.

HOBBSIE
No more dusters, Wallace. Go see the world. You're brighter than Herbert, you know. My son just pays attention.

RON
Herbert dacked me and pushed me into the girls dunny. That time when you only saw me. He knew Phyllis Willis was in there.

HOBBSIE
Am I right in deducing you are an admirer of Phyllis Willis?

RON
She told all the other girls what she saw when I was dacked. I hear voices when girls look at me.

HOBBSIE
What do these voices say?

RON
"Run. Pretend you don't see her. Throw a rock at her. Pull your pants out of your crack." They all speak at once. I get dacked by everyone. Except Skinny.

HOBBSIE
Skinny - Brian's not coming back with Constable Vella, is he?

(RON closes his eyes.)

RON
He's hiding under the house.

HOBBSIE
You better go home too. Go on. Before I change my mind.

RON
Sir? Do you ever walk along the railway track at night?

HOBBSIE
It's a shortcut home for you, isn't it?

RON
I only do it at night. When the engines are stored. I still keep turning round because I think a train might come out of the dark and run me down. I even hear the noise.

HOBBSIE
Maybe you should go the long way.

RON
Dad would've heard it coming. Why didn't he get out of the way?

HOBBSIE
The wind was probably blowing the wrong way. It howls down there. So they tell me.

(As RON starts to exit, HOBBSIE peruses the list.)

HOBBSIE
You're right, Wallace. There is no connection between the longest river in the world and the pit.

RON
It didn't make sense. Lots of things don't make sense. Sir.

HOBBSIE
Get out of The Bay. Believe it or not, there are parts of the world where they don't dack, Wallace.

RON
I'm saving up for a boat.

HOBBSIE
Good luck, Wallace.

(RON exits.

HOBBSIE sits, intently studies RON's list of questions while cleaning his shoes. )

 

Scene 2

SHORT OWEN
(to RON)
Don't wander off like that, boyo! We promised your da we'd look after you, didn't we, Jockey?

(JOCKEY nods, smiling broadly, as always.)

RON
Is this E tunnel, Mr Jones?

(JOCKEY nods, smiling broadly, as always.)

JOCKEY
Yes.

SHORT OWEN
Nowhere near it. Don't wander off again.

(They lead RON - via a complex route - back to his workplace.)

SHORT OWEN
Manys the boy gets lost on his first day and wanders the pit to this day, never to be found, young Ronnie.

(RON'S workplace is an empty wooden "Explosives" box. On which he sits and opens a door controlling airflow to the coalface when coal skips need to pass, then closes the door again.)

SHORT OWEN
There now, you know what you're supposed to be doing?

RON
No, Mr Jones.

(SHORT OWEN laughs, JOCKEY smiles broadly. As always.)

SHORT OWEN
Your father was a joker too. We'll leave him to it, eh Jockey?

HUGHIE (OFF)
Open the flamin' door, comrade!

(On his back, flailing like a turtle, RON hides his food, tries to retrieve the cigarette, as he opens the trap door for HUGHIE MURDOCH.)

HUGHIE MURDOCH: Late 40s. Ex Glasgow. Thick Scottish brogue. Bears a somewhat cultivated resemblance to Lenin. Amiably violent, tending less amiable - to hellfire-driven - with alcohol. Historically aggrieved.

The light from HUGHIE'S helmet hits RON'S face.

HUGHIE
What in hell are you playin' at, you daft fat colonial lump? What's that on your face?

RON
Golden syrup, Mr Murdoch.

HUGHIE
Sweet baby Jesus. Are we fighting to keep your job? Two hundred men gone, comrade. Two hundred families on the scrap heap. In five years, The Bay will be a ghost town if we don't stop them. And you're shoving golden syrup down your cakehole?

(He spots the rolled cigarette on the ground. RON puts his foot over it.)

HUGHIE
Sweet baby Jesus. Are you smoking down here?

RON
No.

HUGHIE
Foot, comrade.

RON
It was for after work.

(HUGHIE grinds the rollie to dust under his boot.)

HUGHIE
Never forget how many good men have died, comrade. Never forget. Never forget why.

RON
My dad said there's no gas in this pit.

HUGHIE
They warned me about you.

RON
They who?

HUGHIE
That hair is a dead giveaway. Never knew a redhead you could trust. Stay off the beach, comrade. The tide won't get in.

(HUGHIE exits, cackling. RON resumes trapping, metronomically.  He closes his eyes, holds a hand to his face, confirms he can still see through his eyelids. Makes shadow puppet outlines: a dog, a rabbit..

While, above ground, at the Pit Top:

BRIAN enters, in pre-grimed clothes, right arm now in a sling, carrying a huge tangle of miners' tokens on strings. Miners tokens: numbered leather circles used to identify skips of coal for purposes of payment. Also in the "cavil", a ballot for pit places.

BRIAN tries to untangle the tokens, one-handed. Without  success. Agitation grows to become a flailing battle with a string-and-leather octopus.

Mine Under-Manager GOLDFINCH enters, unseen by BRIAN.

GOLDFINCH: 40. Ex Nottingham and London. Managerially educated accent. Work suit. Cut from superior cloth (for The Bay) but not toffee-nosed. Soft cop.

GOLDFINCH
O'Brien.

(BRIAN jumps. Tokens fly.)

BRIAN
Shite! I beg pardon, Mr Goldfinch.

GOLDFINCH
I didn't see your mother in church.

BRIAN
She's sick.

GOLDFINCH
I hope you're looking after her. Take this home. I caught a bagfull.

(GOLDFINCH hands a newspaper-wrapped fish to BRIAN.)
 
GOLDFINCH
Your mother tells me you make meringues now. She's proud of you.

BRIAN
I use her cookbook.

GOLDFINCH
Being the only man in The Bay who can cook is not to be sneezed at.

BRIAN
Am I being replaced by a machine, Mr Goldfinch?

GOLDFINCH
A hard worker like you will have a job as long as he wants it.

BRIAN
Mum will be really happy to hear that, Mr Goldfinch. I'm saving up for a motor mower. So I can start my own business. My mate Ron is going to work for me.

GOLDFINCH
I hear you send most of your lunch down in the lift.

BRIAN
Is Ron being replaced by a machine? Is he cavilled out?

GOLDFINCH
I'm afraid so. Seniority. Last on, first off. I don't make the rules. The union does.

BRIAN
I came on after Ron.

GOLDFINCH
You have your mother to look after.

(A faint, distant, rolling begins underground..)

BRIAN
My mum says Ron's mum is worried sick about Ron losing his job. My mum is her best friend.

GOLDFINCH
Maybe I can arrange something up top for Ron. Seeing as he's your mate.

BRIAN
Thanks, Mr Goldfinch.

(The rolling grows louder. Becoming a rumble. RON waits, anxiously, underground, as the sound approaches..)

GOLDFINCH
So tell me, how is the mood of the men?

(The rumbling, echoing thunder reaches crescendo and..

BANG! The sound of a laden skip hitting the closed trap door.)

TACKHEAD (OFF)
Open friggin' door!

(RON opens it. TACKHEAD bursts though.

BILLY "TACKHEAD" BAKER: 50+. Thick Lancashire accent. No teeth, wrestler's chest, bald/permanent hat, failing eyesight. 30 years "down pit in friggin' Wigan" before emigrating.

TACKHEAD'S face looms close to RON'S, and peers.

TACKHEAD
I bit prop's ear off in scrum. He were from Hull. If he were from St Helens I would've bit both ear off. If he were mine boss, I would've bit off something unspeakable. What did we fight war for, chum? Full employment, they said. Jobs for life, they said. Chop off their friggin' heads, I say.

He peers close to RON again.)

TACKHEAD
They tell me school bus fell in love with you. Have to widen tunnel again.

(He exits, wracked with laughter.

Back above ground, at the Pit Top:

BRIAN continues trying to untangle the tokens.)  

GOLDFINCH
I hear there's talk of a stay in.

(BRIAN shrugs. Unconvincingly.)

GOLDFINCH
Do they want the mine to close for good? We'll all be out of a job.

BRIAN
I'll be my own boss when I get my mower.

GOLDFINCH
There won't be small business if the reds get their way. Or private property.

BRIAN
It's only a mower. Don't reds have lawns?

BRIAN
Will the reds take our house?

GOLDFINCH
They can come into The Bay and take anything they want. And give it to whoever they like. From wherever. Russia. China.

BRIAN
Russia and China?

GOLDFINCH
They've got the bomb. Can't blame them for wanting The Bay, can you?

BRIAN
It's the greatest little town God ever stuck legs on. Dad said.

GOLDFINCH
I understand the men, Brian. They want security. So do I. The only security is progress. The Bay is finished if it stands still.

(Pause.)

GOLDFINCH
Do you think your mother will be well enough to come to the dance?

BRIAN
She might be after I tell her the good news.

GOLDFINCH
Run that fish home before it goes off.

BRIAN
Now? Mr Goldfinch?

GOLDFINCH
Then tell your mate to come and see me.

(GOLDFINCH exits.

BRIAN gathers up his mess of tokens.

PHYLLIS WILLIS enters, behind BRIAN. PHYLLIS WILLIS: Aged 15. Queen Of The Bay. Strawberry blonde, pale, powdered skin. American hairstyle, makeup, gum-chewing. Plus the remnants of a school uniform.)

PHYLLIS WILLIS
Hey, Skinny.

BRIAN jumps. Tokens fly.

BRIAN
Phyllis Willis.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
When you were born, were your eyes in single file?

(While BRIAN - gathering tokens - and PHYLLIS WILLIS talk, work continues - silently - underground:

RON'S door opens and closes, to the rhythm of boredom.

TACKHEAD shovels coal.

SHORT OWEN and JOCKEY pick at the coalface, together.

BRIAN
Pretend you're a gun and shoot through.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
(mock fear)
Oo-ooh. I heard there's going to be a stay in.

BRIAN
Who told you that?

PHYLLIS WILLIS
Your mother. A little bird told her. Ha ha. Little bird?

BRIAN
I'm working. Pretend you're a nut and bolt.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
Oo-ooh. I've got an appointment. Goldfinch's looking for a secretary.

BRIAN
He's got a secretary.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
She's leaving. See you later, alligator.

(PHYLLIS WILLIS exits.

Underground:

TACKHEAD takes a break. He looms in to RON'S face, peers.)

TACKHEAD
Sunlight is white man's enemy, little Ronnie. I can feel sunlight two mile underground in this friggin' country. Couldn't feel a thing in friggin' Wigan. Sun is right there, now.

(He points up, to a specific spot, adamantly.)

TACKHEAD
I'll put money on it, chum. How much?

(SHORT OWEN leaves JOCKEY, to rescue RON.)

SHORT OWEN
Tackhead, my boy. Saturday night. Found a nice widow to escort?  

TACKHEAD
I'll be duchessing a friggin' keg, chum -

(They become aware of a faint rumble..quickly intensifying..)

TACKHEAD
Shite! Shit - !

SHORT OWEN
Jockey!

(TACKHEAD watches, listens to the roof, as he restrains SHORT OWEN from joining JOCKEY, who is now pinned on the ground, only his head and shoulders visible.)

TACKHEAD
She's not finished! She's not finished!
(to RON)
Out! Get out! Everyone out!

(RON stares, frozen, at JOCKEY. SHORT OWEN breaks away, runs to JOCKEY, cradles his head.)

TACKHEAD
Owen! She's not finished! Owen!

(TACKHEAD hovers, before he joins SHORT OWEN to scrabble with bare hands at the coal atop JOCKEY. While watching the roof.)

TACKHEAD
Get out of here, Fatty!

(RON turns to go, vacillates, joins them, digging with bare hands.)

TACKHEAD
(looking up at roof)
Friggin' grey back bastard! Friggin' grey back bastard!

(A loud industrial whistle screams.)

 

Scene 3

RON
Jockey only had two days to go. He was caviled out. Why's Jockey smile all the time?

BRIAN
Kicked in the head by a horse. They put a metal plate in his head. But he couldn't be a jockey any more.

RON
I'm not going down again. No fear. That roof's a widow maker. I want to be replaced by a machine.

BRIAN
I put the word on Goldfinch, mate. You're coming up top. Till I get my mower. Don't thank me.

RON
Hobbsie said I could work with my brain. But not in The Bay.

BRIAN
Mowing takes brains. Hobbsie's a leather-elbowed goose.

RON
He said The Bay's too small for me.

BRIAN
He was having a go at you for being fat. Can't leave The Bay, mate. Greatest little town god ever stuck legs on. It's got Phyllis Willis.

RON
It's got Phyllis Willis.

BRIAN
It's got Phyllis Willis. And the ocean. And the sun. And the bush. And no-one's got much money or anything, but everybody knows everybody else and looks after their mate when times are tough.

RON
And make lousy Fatty and Skinny jokes and break your bones every five minutes.

BRIAN
That's just The Bay sense of humour. Makes me laugh sometimes. People like you when you laugh along with them. No airs and graces in The Bay. No-one bungs it on.

RON
Except for Phyllis Willis.

BRIAN
Queen of The Bay, mate. Your Queen.

RON
I'd go back down the pit for Phyllis Willis.

BRIAN
She wants to do it with you.

RON
Bull she does.

BRIAN
She told me.

RON
Bull she did. She saw me without my dacks. She told every girl in the Bay. They still laugh at me.

BRIAN
She told me she wants to do it with you. Close your eyes. What do you see?

RON
(closes eyes)
I see Phyllis Willis and me disappearing into the sand dunes, tonight. I see strawberry blonde hair in the moonlight. I see skin like the white marble angels in the cemetery, only with freckles of gold all over.

BRIAN
Talk to Goldfinch tonight. You're in, mate. You're in everywhere.

 

Scene 4

TACKHEAD
What's your friggin' regiment, chum? The friggin' first Elvis Presley Dragoons? Won friggin' war. Lost friggin' peace.

CHOCKO
Elvis isn't a Jap, Tackhead.

TACKHEAD
Bullshit.

GOLDFINCH
(to RON)
Are you allowed alcohol, son?

TACKHEAD
Old enough to work, old enough to drink.

CHOCKO
(to GOLDFINCH)
Old enough to join dole queue.

GOLDFINCH
I'm only the Under Manager, Chocko.

TACKHEAD
That's what Adolf Eichmann said.

GOLDFINCH
We're all on the same side today, Billy. Lest we forget.

TACKHEAD
(salutes)
Lest we forget, mine under manager sir! Only please sir, call me Tackhead, sir.

(He removes his hat, displaying his bald pate.)

TACKHEAD
I did wore rug, sir. Till dog et it. Ten Ton Tessie's friggin' dog.

RON
She thought it was a cat.

CHOCKO
What sort of overweight hooligan sets his dog on a man's hairpiece?

(GOLDFINCH gives RON a beer.)

GOLDFINCH
Courtesy of the company. Gentlemen. The Queen.

TACKHEAD
The Queen. I were King of friggin' Wigan. Abdicated to experience dignity of labour.

(RON skulls his beer. Trying to emulate him, BRIAN nearly chokes. TACKHEAD lurches over to peer drunkenly at BRIAN.)

TACKHEAD
Do you have to run round in rain to get friggin' wet, chum?

(TACKHEAD is wracked with laughter.)

CHOCKO
I could pick my teeth with him.

(TACKHEAD and CHOCKO lurch away, both wracked with laughter.)

TACKHEAD
Where're you from again?

CHOCKO
Malta. I am descended from pirates. Coal mining pirates.

TACKHEAD
Malta. Gallant little Malta. Faith Hope and Charity against might of Luftwaffe.

(CHOCKO plays a laughter-wracked piano accordion: "There'll Be Bluebirds Over The White Cliffs Of Dover" as they exit.
 
Music continues faintly off, through the following.)

GOLDFINCH
Your mother coming along?

BRIAN
She's still sick, Mr Goldfinch.

GOLDFINCH
She's sick a lot lately.

BRIAN
She said to give you this.

BRIAN
Where'd Phyllis Willis get one of those things?

(She plugs in via long extension cord, leading off.

GOLDFINCH exits, passing PHYLLIS WILLIS en route.)

GOLDFINCH
Good evening, Phyllis.

PHYLLIS
Evening, Mr Goldfinch.

BRIAN
(to RON)
Go on, mate. Talk to her.

(RON stays put. Skulls his second beer.)

BRIAN
Go on. You know you're in love with her. Go on.

(He shoves RON towards PHYLLIS WILLIS. RON diverts to the keg.)
 
BRIAN
Go on, mate. I'll get you a beer. Look at her. She's waiting for you.

(PHYLLIS spins Buddy Holly's "Everyday" and dances, alone. RON vacillates, shuffles, pulls his pants from his crack, skulls his beer, is verging on approach, when..)

TACKHEAD (OFF)
Turn friggin' Yankee rubbish off before I do!

(PHYLLIS turns it down, but not off.)

BRIAN
She's still waiting.

(RON hesitantly approaches PHYLLIS WILLIS. As SHORT OWEN enters.)

SHORT OWEN
Will some dear soul please be so kind as to do us a blessed favour and turn off that American rubbish?

(Someone pulls the plug, off. The record grinds down.

RON U-turns back to BRIAN.)

SHORT OWEN
Thank you so kindly.

(SHORT OWEN exits, singing.

BRIAN supplies RON with another beer.

PHYLLIS WILLIS determinedly reconnects the power.)

BRIAN
She's still waiting. Mate, why do you think she came here tonight? I told her you'd be here.

(PHYLLIS WILLIS plays Buddy Holly's "Everyday", and dances, alone, again. RON finds the wherewithal to approach, again.)
 
RON
Dance?

PHYLLIS WILLIS
What?

(PHYLLIS WILLIS turns the music down further.)

PHYLLIS WILLIS
What?

RON
Do you want to dance?

(PHYLLIS WILLIS whispers extended rejection in RON'S ear.

RON returns to BRIAN, pulls a large coloured meringue from his pocket, consumes in compensation for humiliation.

PHYLLIS WILLIS turns the music up again.

HUGHIE enters.)

HUGHIE
Turn that Yankee caterwauling off, lass! Or I swear I'll smash that blasted thing!

(The plug is pulled again. PHYLLIS WILLIS exits in high dudgeon.)

HUGHIE
(seeing RON, BRIAN)
Sweet baby Jesus! Are we the 51st state, comrades? I didn't leave the bonnie banks and braes under the rule of the Sassenach Queen, just to live in Uncle Sam's colony.

HUGHIE exits.)

BRIAN
What'd she say?

RON
Nothing.

(BRIAN rolls a smoke. RON consumes another coloured meringue.)

BRIAN
What'd she say?

RON
Nothing!

BRIAN
I swear she said she wanted to do it with you. I swear she said it, mate.

(He lights the rollie and passes it to RON.)

BRIAN
Was it about being fat?

RON
She thinks she's Queen of the Bay.

BRIAN
She's up herself. Have you ever done it?

RON
Not interested.

BRIAN
She's a slack mole. I'm going to tell her, mate.

RON
No.

BRIAN
Let me go, mate. I'm going to tell the mole where to go. And all the other girls who call you Fatty too -

(SHORT OWEN enters, pushing JOCKEY in a wheelchair.)
 
SHORT OWEN
Jockey's here.

RON/BRIAN
G'day, Jockey. Good to see you, mate.

(BRIAN exits.)

SHORT OWEN
Couldn't keep him away. If the Luftwaffe couldn't get him, no load of coal was going to knock him off, was it, boyo?

(JOCKEY nods and smiles, as always, if a little wanly.)
 
RON
Can he have a beer?

SHORT OWEN
Jockey's got crushed ribs but he's not deaf yet, are you, Jockey?

RON
Beer, Jockey?

(JOCKEY nods and smiles.)

JOCKEY
Ten ouncer.

SHORT OWEN
His plumbing's tender.

(HUGHIE enters.)

HUGHIE
Jockey, lad!

SHORT OWEN
Came to wish us well on our grand adventure.

(JOCKEY nods and smiles.)

HUGHIE
(to RON)
How about you, lad?

RON
(nonplussed)
Mr Murdoch?

HUGHIE
Are you with us?

RON
(nonplussed)
I don't know. What - ?

(BRIAN enters, excited.)

BRIAN
Ron. Quick. Come on. To the dunes! To the dunes!

(BRIAN drags RON out, chugalugging his remaining beer.)

 

Scene 5

(Darkness. The moon. BRIAN and RON crawl over unseen dunes. BRIAN stops. RON bumps into him.)
 
BRIAN
Shh.

(A soft panting is heard. BRIAN peers over a dune. Points.

PHYLLIS WILLIS is in moonlit sexual congress with Mine Under Manager GOLDFINCH.

RON and BRIAN observe the event unfold. It unfolds quickly.)

PHYLLIS WILLIS
You said you'd get off at Redfern.

GOLDFINCH
You'll be right. How's the gramaphone player?

PHYLLIS WILLIS
Really good. Want to do it again?

GOLDFINCH
Give me a chance.

RON
Ss. Ss. Ss.

GOLDFINCH
Jesus Christ. Is that a snake?

RON
Ssss.

GOLDFINCH
Snake!

(GOLDFINCH drags PHYLLIS WILLIS to her feet and flees. PHYLLIS WILLIS looks back to see RON and BRIAN, before she too flees. BRIAN is hysterical with laughter, RON silent with anguish.)
 
BRIAN
I've broke all my ribs!

(He proposes the secret handshake. RON does not respond. He  searches pockets for food. BRIAN produces a Lamington.)

BRIAN
The Queen's got herself a new King.

RON
He's just the Under Manager.

BRIAN
Prince, then. You didn't want to marry her, did you?

(The crunch of boots. HUGHIE, SHORT OWEN, JOCKEY enter.)

HUGHIE
Make up your mind, lad.

SHORT OWEN
We're going in.

HUGHIE
We're staying in till we get what we want. Are you with us, or against us?

RON
I'm not going down again. I'm getting out of The Bay. Tomorrow.

SHORT OWEN
It's the same everywhere, boyo. You still have to work.

RON
Is Jockey going down?

(JOCKEY nods and smiles.)

SHORT OWEN
You'd be with us if you could, wouldn't you, boyo?

(JOCKEY nods and smiles.)

JOCKEY
Mates stick together.

RON
I'm in.

HUGHIE
You can get out of The Bay after we win.

SHORT OWEN
What about you, Skinny boyo?

BRIAN
My mother's too sick.

(HUGHIE, SHORT OWEN, JOCKEY, exit.)
 
BRIAN
Don't do it. You're coming up top.

RON
They're mates.

BRIAN
They're work mates. I'm your mate mate. You're not thinking straight because of Phyllis Willis. Forget Phyllis Willis.

RON
I can't forget Phyllis Willis.

BRIAN
(sotto)
Don't do it.

(GOLDFINCH enters. Tie straightened, hair combed.)

GOLDFINCH
Where is everyone? Brian tells me you want to come up top?

 

Scene 6

(The pit. Cold. Water drips. Roof timber creaks. RON devours a biscuit, alone. On watch. For what? A sound. Footsteps? RON hides the remains of his biscuit.)

RON
Who's that? Who is it? Skinny? That's not funny.

(Pause. Silence.

RON
How long is it now?

HUGHIE
You in a hurry to get somewhere?

SHORT OWEN
Sixty nine hours. And five minutes. You're still solid, aren't you, young Ronnie?

RON
Yes, Mr Jones.

HUGHIE
The capitalist never gives anything away, comrade. A "fair go" must be fought for. We can take a breather when they nationalise the mines. We were that close ton it after the war, comrade. That close. Chifley sold us out.

RON
I'm hungry.

HUGHIE
You eat when we eat.

(RON'S stomach rumbles, loudly.)

HUGHIE
Read something. Read this. You might learn why we're here.

(He passes the weighty tome to RON. RON reads. His stomach rumbles again, more loudly.)

CHOCKO
You've stretched the lift cables already, comrade. I'm not touching a bloody pie, Hughie.

HUGHIE
The factory workers are onside.

CHOCKO
Your bloody pies'll break this bloody strike if you're not careful, comrade.

HUGHIE
What'll break this strike will be mates not sticking together.

CHOCKO
It's friday, mate. There's half a dozen Paddies, a couple of Eyeties, and me down with you. Mate.

HUGHIE
Sweet baby Jesus! Get onto the top hands to get onto the Ladies Auxiliary to get onto the fish shop.

RON
I heard someone. Before.

HUGHIE
Jesus! Why didn't you say? Jesus!

SHORT OWEN
Spy?

HUGHIE
Where?

(RON approaches BRIAN in a fury.)

BRIAN
I've got chalky bones!

RON
A skip killed my dad.

BRIAN
Your mum says hello and keep warm.

(BRIAN takes two large bottles of beer from the skip.)
 
BRIAN
Essential supplies.

RON
No beer. We're not allowed.

BRIAN
Cream buns and vanilla slices?

(BRIAN dangles a large paper bag of assorted cakes. RON is torn between beer and buns, and responsibility.)

RON
Pink or yellow icing?

BRIAN
Both. I made meringues too.

(BRIAN proffers his fist for the secret handshake. A beat, before RON yields, shakes hands, guzzles a bottle, scoffs a bun. The beer quickly starts talking..)

BRIAN
Are we really two miles down?

RON
Work is the curse of the drinking class. Work to drink, not drink to work. We're striking so we can keep working. It doesn't make sense.

BRIAN
Come out, then. You said you wanted to be replaced by a machine.

RON
Lots of things don't make sense.

BRIAN
What if we run out of coal because of all the strikes? Mr Menzies said World War Three is coming.

RON
Better start learning Russian.

BRIAN
There are no strikes in Russia. And they've got the bomb.

RON
They've got the bomb?

BRIAN
They've got the bomb, Ron.

RON
The bomb?

BRIAN
The bomb.

RON
She'll be right. It's all shite then you die. Don't you want that?

(BRIAN gives RON his beer. And his cakes.)

RON
(closes eyes)
I see enough coal for ten world wars. I see the reds running all the way back to Moscow. I see the Russian bomb is a fizzer.

BRIAN
It's not a joke, Ron. China will get the bomb too, soon. There are billions of Chinese. They want to take over The Bay.

(The noise of men, approaching. RON skulls the second beer.)

RON
Get rid of the bottles.

(RON hides cakes. BRIAN vanishes with bottles. HUGHIE enters.)

HUGHIE
Where'd this skip come from?

(BRIAN enters, startling HUGHIE.)
 
HUGHIE
Jesus! Jesus Mary and Joseph!

(HUGHIE lifts BRIAN bodily.)

RON
Careful. He's got a chalky neck.

HUGHIE
You not a spy, are you, laddie? Or a reporter for a ruling class rag?

RON
Skinny's in the Ladies Auxiliary. His mother's still sick. He wants to be a Lawnmower Baron.

BRIAN
Mrs Murdoch says hello and keep warm.

(They unload sugar bags and suitcases of supplies. HUGHIE lugs them into the dark. BRIAN lifts a kerosene tin from the skip.)

RON
(eyes closed)
I see a kero tin full of tea. I see victory in the tea leaves! I see early retirement -

(HUGHIE enters.)

HUGHIE
What're you jabbering about, comrade?

BRIAN
Ron can see through his eyelids.

HUGHIE
I can fart peas through a keyhole. Fat lot of good it did me. What do you see?

RON
Food, mostly. Food past, present, and future. Food in historical events. The lamb shanks with white sauce and parsley getting cold in the parliamentary dining room as Chifley orders the army into the coal pits. That sort of thing.

BRIAN
It's a gift.

HUGHIE
Seeing the class traitor Chifley is not a gift, it's a torment.

RON
Other times I see sense. When there isn't any. Like work. Work doesn't make sense. Until I close my eyes. Lots of things don't make sense until I look at them through my eyelids. Or vice versa.

HUGHIE
What will you do if we lose and they cavil you out?

RON
Fish. Lie in the sun. Eat cream buns. Drink beer. Steal a boat.

HUGHIE
You'll leave the pit feet first, if you're lucky. Like your father. Close your eyes.

(RON obeys. HUGHIE holds up a newspaper taken from the skip.)

HUGHIE
What's this?

RON
(eyes closed)
Ruling class lies and propaganda.

HUGHIE
Smart mouth'll get you a thick ear.

RON
(eyes closed)
There's a cartoon about us on page five. "Miners' underground picnic threatens economy."

(HUGHIE flips to page five. Reads. Hurls the newspaper away.)

HUGHIE
Picnic, is it? Two hundred men laid off is a picnic? Are their families having a picnic too? Bastards. Bastards. Stay here and keep watch.

(HUGHIE ferries supplies into the dark.)
 
BRIAN
What if World War Three does happen?

RON
(eyes closed)
I see you and me fighting side by side.

BRIAN
Do we die?

RON
(eyes closed)
We save each other's lives. And win the war. We're heroes and we never have to work again. We buy a big boat and sail over the horizon -

HUGHIE enters.)

HUGHIE
Your father didn't like work either. He had red hair too.

RON
So did my grandfather. And my great grandfather. My father said I had the reddest hair of all and I was the culmination of the great and longstanding tradition of red-haired coalminers.

HUGHIE
He was a clown too. Wasn't laughing when he got laid off. Three years, wasn't it? Took to the drink, if I remember.

BRIAN
Mr Menzies says World War Three is coming, Mr Murdoch.

HUGHIE
Pig Iron Bob talks though his arse.

BRIAN
What if we lose because we run out of coal?

HUGHIE
You're not a scab, are you, Skinny? Better to die on your feet than live on your knees.

RON
Why?

HUGHIE
You are sailing close to the wind, Fatty.

BRIAN
There's billions of them and they've got the bomb, Mr Murdoch.

HUGHIE
There's another war. Bigger than World War Three. The one that killed his father.

(SHORT OWEN and CHOCKO enter, escorting GOLDFINCH.)

SHORT OWEN
Look what we found in an air shaft.

HUGHIE
Decent of you to drop by, Mr Goldfinch.

GOLDFINCH
You can't keep me here.

HUGHIE
Wouldn't dream of it. Don't you like picnics?

CHOCKO
(checking the skip)
Where's the radio?

GOLDFINCH
A radio is not an essential item.

HUGHIE
Pig's arse. We're running this pit now. A radio is a bloody essential item.

SHORT OWEN
Men become unpredictable when they can't bet on saturday.

GOLDFINCH
Violence or vandalism will see the police sent in, Hughie. None of us want that.

HUGHIE
Your boss is shipping in scabs, is he not?

GOLDFINCH
I've heard nothing about scabs, Hughie.

CHOCKO
You tell him we'll be here till Christmas.

SHORT OWEN
Easter if we see hide or hair of a scab.

HUGHIE
Come in again, you stay in.

GOLDFINCH
Have you got beer down here?

HUGHIE
Not unless you planted it.

GOLDFINCH
This is not good, Hughie. People could get the impression you're having a picnic down here.

(GOLDFINCH exits.)

SHORT OWEN
They'll love this! The papers will love this!

(The sound of the second bottle being kicked. Breaking.)

HUGHIE
Jesus! Did one of you stupid bastards bring beer in? You idiot!

(He pins BRIAN to a wall.)

SHORT OWEN
Hughie. Easy.

HUGHIE
I said no beer!

SHORT OWEN
What were you thinking, boyo? We're already red ragging traitors who breed like rabbits and don't wash. Now we're drunks as well.

CHOCKO
Goldfinch put him up to it. Didn't he?

HUGHIE
How much did he pay you?

CHOCKO
Goldfinch is mummy's boyfriend. Mummy plays jigajig with the Under Manager.

BRIAN
She does not!

HUGHIE
I ought to break your chalky neck.

(RON interposes himself between terrified BRIAN and HUGHIE.)

RON
I asked him to bring it in.

HUGHIE
Is that right?

(BRIAN nods. HUGHIE backs RON against the wall. Raises his fist.)

HUGHIE
Close your eyes, Fatty. What do you see?

SHORT OWEN
He's only a boy, Hughie.

RON
Why can't we have beer, anyway? I bet the bosses have beer.

HUGHIE
It's all a joke to you, isn't it?

SHORT OWEN
The working man is expected to have higher standards, boyo.

HUGHIE
Your father was drunk when the skip hit him. Did you know that?

(RON glares. Hurt. SHORT OWEN intercedes.)

SHORT OWEN
You've let us down badly, Ronnie. The men won't be happy. I think you'd better go now. Go now.)

HUGHIE
Aye, it's all a joke to you. What the old timers fought for, what they lived on nothing to get. A secure job, a decent wage, the pension, sick leave, safety regulations, all a joke to you. You'd just throw it all away.

SHORT OWEN
Go now.

HUGHIE
Never forget.

(HUGHIE, SHORT OWEN, CHOCKO troop off into the dark.)

RON
You hid the bottles in the lift!

BRIAN
It was dark.

RON
Goldfinch? He paid you?  

BRIAN
He said World War Three was coming and my mother was worried. And the Russians and Chinese have got machines so we've got to have them too. And if the reds win they'll have people with chalky bones put down. And you can't stop progress. Thanks for copping it for me.  

(BRIAN proffers the secret handshake: are we still mates?)

RON
You owe me a dozen meringues. Pink, white, and blue.

(RON completes the handshake, but without enthusiasm. They push the skip off.
Fading:)

BRIAN
I have to use ink to get blue.

RON
I've eaten ink before.

(They disappear into darkness.)

Scene 7

BRIAN
Those clippings will fall apart if you unfold them every day, mate.

RON
(reads)
"The funeral was well-attended by members of The Grand United Order Of Free Gardeners, and there were many floral tributes." I like that bit. Short Owen said dad could get sweet peas to grow up a shovel on a slack heap.

BRIAN
You ought to stick them in a book. With a flower.

RON
(reads second clipping)
"B. Baker, improper language, fined 2 pounds. Tackhead; H. Murdoch, drunkenness, fined one pound five shillings. Hughie.; S. Jones - Short Owen - riotous behaviour, ten shillings;"

(As RON reads, BRIAN escorts him to a new site, upstage.)

RON
"Chocko Vella, riotous behaviour. Pleaded guilty under provocation, seven and sixpence, Leonard Thorpe, drunk and disorderly, seven and six.."

(RON re-folds, pockets the clippings.)

RON
(eyes closed)
I see the Grand United Order Of Free Gardeners blind drunk and rioting in memoriam.

(BRIAN saves RON from falling into a hole.)

BRIAN
Watch where you're going, mate. That hole's taken.

(RON trims the edges of the hole with his shovel.

BRIAN consults instructions and methodically negotiates the numerous steps required to prepare a motor mower.)

RON
They won't get drunk and riot in memoriam for you and me.

BRIAN
You're better off out of the pit. The machines are here. There's more on the way.

RON
We're scabs.

BRIAN
We're mates. Who are ahead of the pack. Gravedigging is a job for life. There'll always be graves, there'll always be lawns. People die. Grass grows. Where's the choke?

RON
(closes eyes)
I see a machine for digging graves.

BRIAN
You'll be working for me by then. I'll have a fleet of these things.

RON
(eyes closed)
I see you replace me with a robot.

BRIAN
You don't replace a mate.

RON
(eyes closed)
I see a new, bigger, better mate come along. I see you choose to stay ahead of the pack, over your old mate. I see your new, bigger, better mate form a company and replace you with his girlfriend's cousin.

BRIAN
You're depressing me, mate. I'm trying to get a mower started.

(BRIAN takes a replete paper bag from his gladstone.)

BRIAN
Eat an apple turnover, will you?

BRIAN
Bloody hell! Eat my apple turnover too, will you?

(RON tucks in.)

RON
That paspalum patch is Hughie's father. Mow round it. That sand is Jimmy Jones. The dunes are taking over.

BRIAN
Shut up and stand back.

(BRIAN yanks the starter cord. Again. Again.)

BRIAN
Ah! I've done my collar bone again. You try.

(RON tries without success. BRIAN re-primes the carburettor, re-opens the throttle..)
 
RON
Maybe your new mate Goldfinch didn't put any petrol in your reward.

(..unscrews the fuel tank cap and peers in.)

BRIAN
He didn't put any petrol in!

RON
It's all shit then you die.
(closes eyes)
I see a petrol station in Swansea.

BRIAN
I'm not pushing this thing all the way to Swansea!

RON
(closes eyes)
I see petrol stations closing because oil runs out.

(BRIAN thrusts the bag of pastries at RON.)

BRIAN
Take the bloody bag! There's ten thousand years of oil just slopping round under the ground, mate. Ask the bloody arabs. Someone'll invent an atomic mower anyway.

RON
(closes eyes)
I see men out of work and grass growing out of control.

BRIAN
We're not going to run out of bloody atoms. You're in a bad way.

(The sound of a brass band, playing the Dead March, nears.)
 
RON
Jockey's coming over the white bridge.

HUGHIE
Never forget.

(RON moves to JOCKEY'S grave and begins to fill it with earth.

Darkness descends.)

 

Scene 8

(Night. A bright moon. Wind brings the intermittent sound of surf.

RON and BRIAN emerge from the darkness. BRIAN'S collarbone is supported by a makeshift sling.

They are walking home along the railway track.)

BRIAN
(mimicking HUGHIE)
Never forget. Hoots mon. Donald, where's your troosers?
(sings)
Go home, go home, go home with bonnie Jean..

(RON looks over his shoulder (back up the track) into the darkness, as if wary of something coming up behind them. )

BRIAN
Don't dwell, mate.

RON
Dad must've heard the skip coming up behind him. Even though he was drunk.

BRIAN
Rule number one, when you work in a graveyard: don't dwell.

(RON looks back behind them, again.)

BRIAN
Do you want to go the long way?

RON
I like following the moon on the tracks.

(RON stops. BRIAN bumps into him. RON peers back, again.)

RON
I heard something.

BRIAN
Kathleen's stored for the night. Isn't she?

(They listen. Peer into the dark from whence they came.)

BRIAN
It's the wind in the white bridge. Or blowing through the cutting. Let's go the long way.

(From the dark, the wind brings the sound of distant male singing..mixed with the intermittent sound of surf.)
 
RON
The wake.

(BRIAN tests the wind direction with a wet finger.)

BRIAN
Could be lodge choir practice in Cessnock.

(The singing dies down, as the wind drops..but never completely disappears.

RON walks onward. Stops. BRIAN bumps into him.

RON peers ahead, this time.)

RON
Who's that?

BRIAN
What is it?

RON
Who's there?

PHYLLIS WILLIS (V.O.)
(softly)
Woooooo.

BRIAN
Run. Run!

PHYLLIS WILLIS (V.O.)
(loudly)
Woooooo!

(PHYLLIS WILLIS runs out of the darkness ahead, on the track.)

RON/BRIAN
Aaah!

(PHYLLIS WILLIS nearly splits her sides, laughing.)

RON
Phyllis Willis.

BRIAN
Phyllis Willis.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
I've wet myself. What are you two scabs doing here?

BRIAN
Nothing. Going home. We're not scabs.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
Phil says you were blackballed.

BRIAN
Phil who?

PHYLLIS WILLIS
Mr Goldfinch.

BRIAN
Goldfinch tricked us.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
Phil says it was your idea.

(RON eyeballs BRIAN. BRIAN limits eye contact.

The wind brings the sound of the wake again. They listen.)

RON
What are you doing here?

PHYLLIS WILLIS
My mother kicked me out. She can go jump. The Bay can go to hell. I'm getting married. Congratulate me.

RON
Congratulations.

PHYLLIS WILLIS
I'm moving to Snob Hill. See you later, alligator.

(PHYLLIS WILLIS surges off into the darkness.)

BRIAN
She's got one in the oven. Bad luck, mate. Chocolate crackle?

(He finds a chocolate crackle for RON, as they walk onward.)
 
BRIAN
She'll get what's coming to her.

RON
(looking over shoulder)
So will we.

BRIAN
Maybe working in the bone orchard isn't such a good idea. Spending all that time with the past. Maybe being near your old man has dislodged a few of your tiles.

RON
Was it your idea? To leave the beer bottles for Goldfinch to find?

BRIAN
I had to get you out somehow. Just tell yourself you're luckier than your old man.

RON
It wasn't luck.

BRIAN
Planning for the future, then. You saw it yourself. In the cemetery.

RON
What did I see?

(BRIAN starts to go.)

BRIAN
What's done is done. We have to put it behind us.

(RON stays, looking back at the line of bobbing lights.)
 
BRIAN
It's in the past.

RON
It doesn't stay there.

(The sound of boots, the line of lights, diminishes..is gone.)

RON
It turns into what we've got coming.

(RON gets down on hands and knees, puts his ear to the track..)
 
BRIAN
What have we got coming? We haven't got anything coming.

(RON - perhaps - hears a faint but familiar rolling, rumbling noise. Which BRIAN does not hear. The noise continues, but remains faint..)

BRIAN
Mate, don't do that. I get this picture in my head of your head, flat as a highway frog. We haven't got anything coming.

(RON gets to his feet. Closes eyes. Peers back into the dark.)
 
RON
(eyes closed)
Shite.

BRIAN
(fear rising)
What?

RON
(eyes closed)
Shite!

BRIAN
What?!

RON
(eyes closed)
SHITE!

BRIAN
WHAT?

RON
(eyes closed)
It's too dark.

(RON starts walking back into the darkness, peering..)

BRIAN
No! This way! Stop looking back, will you? Look ahead! Look this way! And let's get out of here.

(He turns RON, walks him away from whatever the darkness holds. RON continues to look over his shoulder, eyes closed.)

BRIAN
Look ahead, mate. Lawnmower Barons. You and me. That's what's coming. Look this way. Lawnmower Barons.

(RON stops. Looking back. BRIAN surges ahead, before noticing.)

RON
(eyes closed)
It's us! I see us! It's us!

(BRIAN returns and collects RON.)

BRIAN
Are we getting out of here!?

RON
(eyes closed)
Running. I see us running.

BRIAN
We are running!

(And they are. Running.)

BRIAN
Are you sure it's us? Never seen you run.

RON
It's us!

(They continue to run.)

BRIAN
Are we running away from something, or to something?

RON
Both.

BRIAN
Do we look afraid?

RON
You do. I look hungry.

(BRIAN passes RON a chocolate crackle.)

BRIAN
Don't look back. We can outrun it. Don't look back.

(They continue to run. Looking ahead.)

 

THE END

 

(c) Tim Gooding
     May 2006