THE NEXT TABLE CAST TERRY HENRY SHIRLEY MARY WAITRESS THE NEXT TABLE Scene: A restaurant interior. No customers. Various tables, two downstage, L & R, set for two. Up C is an exit to the kitchen. Close by, a side table with cutlery, condiments, menus, etc. A door, R, has a sign over: TOILETS. A third door, L is market EXIT. A WAITRESS bustles about setting clean cutlery at one of the tables. She exits through the door, R. Seconds later, a couple enter from L. They are SHIRLEY and TERRY; young and very much in love. SHIRLEY: Ooh, it’s empty! TERRY: Go on in. SHIRLEY: Let’s go somewhere else… TERRY moves past her into the restaurant. TERRY: This’ll be fine. It’ll fill up – it’s still early. Where do you want to sit? SHIRLEY: Here? (She moves to a table at the rear, near to the kitchen entrance) TERRY: Let’s sit here. We can look out of the window. TERRY takes the table down L, and sits. SHIRLEY comes over and sits opposite him. There’s no menu. SHIRLEY: We saw the one outside. I know what I’m having. TERRY: There should be a menu. We might want to change our minds. SHIRLEY: I shan’t. I really fancy an omelette and chips. What about you? TERRY: I really fancy you. SHIRLEY: Terry! What are you going to have? TERRY: You, a bit later. SHIRLEY: Stop it! You’re embarrassing me! What are you going to eat? TERRY: I shall probably start by nibbling on your left ear, then sort of move my way down slowly to the juicy bits. SHIRLEY: Behave yourself! Somebody might hear you! TERRY: (Looking round) Er…who? The WAITRESS enters, R. WAITRESS: Oh. I didn’t know anyone was here. SHIRLEY: That’s all right. WAITRESS: I had to go to the toilet. TERRY: Did you? (Grimaces at SHIRLEY) WAITRESS: Yes. You can’t hear people come in if you’re on the toilet. TERRY: I suppose not WAITRESS: I’ll get the menus. WAITRESS brings two over from the side table. WAITRESS: Would you like something to drink? TERRY: Beer, Shirl? Live dangerously? SHIRLEY: Just water for me. WAITRESS: Fizzy or still? TERRY: Shirl? SHIRLEY: Just tap, please. TERRY: Do you tap-dance, at all? WAITRESS: No. Have you chosen yet? TERRY: Yes: one Becks; one glass of water. WAITRESS: The food. SHIRLEY: I have. I’d like the mushroom omelette, with chips, please. TERRY: And I’ll have the seafood platter with fries. WAITRESS: One omelette; one fish and chips. (Exit) TERRY: You’ll have to get used to quality dining now you’re with me. SHIRLEY: High class like this every day? TERRY: Sometimes higher. You never know - one day I might even treat you to a waitress with a sense of humour. SHIRLEY: She didn’t realise you were being funny. TERRY: Obviously not. SHIRLEY: Fancy asking if she tap-danced! TERRY: She’s probably in the kitchen now, practicing her step-ball-changes. SHIRLEY: You shouldn’t make fun of her. I expect she’s tired. TERRY: Yeah. Rushed off her feet with all the customers. Must be exhausted, poor thing. SHIRLEY: Oh! Look at that woman! TERRY: What woman? SHIRLEY: Over the street, look. There! She gave that child a slap! She can’t do that…oh, look! She’s dragging the poor kid along like a piece of luggage. Women like that shouldn’t be allowed to have children. TERRY: Certainly not women that ugly. SHIRLEY: That’s a terrible thing to say! Some people might think you’re ugly. TERRY: Do you? SHIRLEY: Not in the right light. But you might be one day, when you’re old. Or you might get disfigured in an accident. TERRY: Oh, thanks very much! SHIRLEY: (Touching his hand across the table) I’d still love you, though. TERRY: What, even if I looked like Quasimodo? TERRY distorts his features to indicate how he thinks the Hunchback of Notre Dame might look. He does not see WAITRESS, who arrives and puts down drinks, then. exits. Oops! SHIRLEY: Terry! She thinks you’re a lunatic now! TERRY: I am a lunatic. SHIRLEY: Yes, well maybe that’s something we should try to keep from the rest of the world. (Pause) Would you still love me if I looked ugly? TERRY: Don’t be daft. SHIRLEY: You wouldn’t, would you? TERRY: ‘Course I would. SHIRLEY: No you wouldn’t. If I looked like…well, her…at the bus-stop – you wouldn’t want to be seen with me. TERRY: You could never look like her. SHIRLEY: But if I did? What if I got really fat and lardy? TERRY: Oh, shut up! Hey – you’re not planning to get all fat and lardy, are you? SHIRLEY: No, but… TERRY: ‘Coz if you are, I’ll call the waitress back and cancel your chips. SHIRLEY: Do you love me, Terry? TERRY: Yes. SHIRLEY: Really? TERRY: Yes. SHIRLEY: You don’t sound too sure. TERRY: Of course I’m sure. SHIRLEY: Why? TERRY: Why what? SHIRLEY: Why do you love me? TERRY: What sort of question is that? SHIRLEY: I want to know why you love me. Is it only because you fancy me? TERRY: No! SHIRLEY: What else then? TERRY: Well…I dunno…everything. I love everything about you. SHIRLEY: My hair? TERRY: Love it! SHIRLY: My face? TERRY: Worship it! SHIRLEY: My body? TERRY: Can’t keep my hands off it. SHIRLEY: I know that! What about my brain, then? Do you love my brain? TERRY: Well, I’ve never actually seen it, but I’m pretty certain it will be love at first sight if I ever do. SHIRLEY: You don’t think I’m thick? TERRY: No, Shirley, I don’t think you’re thick. SHIRLEY: But I am, though, aren’t I? I didn’t go to university. TERRY: That doesn’t matter. SHIRLEY: You don’t find me boring, then? TERRY: Of course I don’t. SHIRLEY: You like talking to me? TERRY: I love talking to you. I adore hearing your voice. It’s a beautiful voice. SHIRLEY: Why did you just tell me to shut up, then? TERRY: I didn’t. SHIRLEY: Yes you did. When I said I might get fat one day. You said “Oh, shut up!” TERRY: Look, you daft, silly cow, you can try and twist my words any way you like, but it doesn’t alter the fact that I worship everything about you, and want you to have my babies. (Noticing WAITRESS, who has arrived silently) Not you. Her. WAITRESS: The fish is off. TERRY: What? WAITRESS: The fish is off. TERRY: You’ve run out of fish? WAITRESS: No. We’ve got some, but it’s off. TERRY: I see. How refreshingly honest. Do you have anything that isn’t “off”? WAITRESS: Yeah. Do you want to see the menu again? TERRY: No. Bring me the risotto. Unless you’ve killed anybody with it recently? WAITRESS: No. TERRY: That will do, then. WAITRESS: Risotto. You still want the chips? TERRY: I’ll risk the chips. WAITRESS: One risotto and chips. (Exit.) SHIRLEY: I don’t think she understands sarcasm. TERRY: I don’t think she understands much at all. (Stands.) I need the loo. SHIRLEY: Don’t leave me! TERRY: I think I’ll probably have to, actually – unless you want me to disgrace myself here, at the table? SHIRLEY: What if the food arrives? TERRY: Not much chance of that happening much before sunset, I should think. If a miracle does occur, you can keep it warm for me. SHIRLEY: How would I do that? TERRY: Dunno. Pop it in your handbag and sit on it. TERRY exits, R. SHIRLEY looks out of the window. A couple enter from the street. They are middle aged. The man, HENRY, looks careworn. The woman, MARY, is clearly nursing a private grievance. HENRY crosses to the table down R. HENRY: Here? MARY shrugs. HENRY sits, so that he faces SHIRLEY’s table. MARY: Aren’t you going to help me with my coat? HENRY gets up and helps her with her coat. He puts it over the back of Mary’s chair. She allows him to adjust the chair behind her, then sits. HENRY goes back to his own chair. HENRY: There doesn’t seem to be a menu. MARY: I am not surprised. I can’t imagine why you brought me here. The place is filthy. HENRY: I’m sure it isn’t. The cutlery seems clean enough. MARY: Mine isn’t. HENRY: No, dear, I don’t suppose yours is. MARY: What does that mean? HENRY: You’re very unlucky, aren’t you? Always the one who gets dirty cutlery, always the one with uncooked potatoes, always… MARY: Be quiet, Henry. HENRY: Yes, dear. MARY opens her handbag. HENRY catches SHIRLEY’s eye, and raises his eyebrows. SHIRLEY smiles back. MARY catches the gesture. MARY: What are you doing? HENRY: I’m being quiet, dear. MARY: Who are you looking at? HENRY: No-one. MARY turns and glares at SHIRLEY, who looks away, embarrassed. MARY turns back to HENRY. MARY: You must think I’m stupid! HENRY: No, dear. MARY: Making eyes at that little piece on the next table when you think I’m not looking. HENRY: Shh! MARY: I will not “Shh!” HENRY: Keep your voice down! She’ll hear you! MARY: I don’t care. You disgust me, Henry. HENRY: I know I do, dear. The WAITRESS enters and approaches their table. WAITRESS: Would you like a menu? MARY: Of course we would! Does she imagine we came here for the view? WAITRESS fetches the menus. She hands them to MARY and HENRY, wordlessly. HENRY: Mmm. Quite a choice. What do you recommend? SHIRLEY: (To herself) The fish. Go for the fish. WAITRESS: It’s all nice. HENRY: Well, I don’t know…what do you fancy, Mary? MARY: Tell her to come back later, Henry, I can’t bear to be loomed over. HENRY: If you could give us a moment..? WAITRESS: Right. Do you want drinks? MARY: White wine. WAITRESS: Which one? MARY: My husband will choose: he makes the decisions. WAITRESS: Which one? HENRY: Well…um… do you have a Riesling? MARY: Not German. I can’t abide German! HENRY: French? Can you abide French, dear? MARY: Oh, anything! Anything! HENRY: Can you bring us a Bordeaux? That one will do. And a carafe of water, please. WAITRESS: Right. (Exit) HENRY: Mary, I do think you could make an effort. MARY: I don’t know what you mean. HENRY: You could at least attempt to be civil. MARY: I am perfectly civil, Henry. I know how to conduct myself. It is not my family who were railway workers. HENRY: Have you chosen yet? MARY: Give me a chance. MARY lifts her reading glasses and studies the menu. HENRY pulls a face at SHIRLEY. MARY: Henry! HENRY hurriedly consults his own menu. MARY pushes hers aside with a sigh. HENRY: You’ve chosen? MARY: There’s nothing for me here. I can’t imagine why you thought I would wish to eat in a dump like this. It is one step up from a transport café. HENRY: Well, I don’t think… MARY: No, you don’t. HENRY: What on earth is the matter with you? MARY: With me? WAITRESS brings jug of water and two glasses. HENRY: Yes, with you! You’ve been in a mood all day….thank you. MARY: How dare you tell me I’ve been in a mood! HENRY: Well, you have. WAITRESS: (At SHIRLEY’s table now) Yours won’t be long. (Exits) SHIRLEY: Thank you. HENRY: Is it something I’m supposed to have done? Well – is it? MARY: If you don’t know, I’m sure I’m not going to tell you. You don’t have a grain of understanding. Selfish to the core, Henry. HENRY: Is it something I haven’t done? It was too wet this morning to cut the lawn… MARY: The lawn? The lawn! HENRY: Well, tell me what’s the matter, then! MARY: You are a man, Henry. You could never begin to understand. Pass me the water. I suppose you are at least capable of passing water? SHIRLEY stifles a guffaw. MARY turns to glare at her. HENRY is distracted and spills the water, some of which reaches MARY. She stands, furious. Look what you’ve done, you clumsy oaf! HENRY: Oh, sorry, I… MARY: Look at my dress! It’s ruined! Completely ruined! HENRY: Mary, it was only water… HENRY comes round the table and attempts to pat at the dress with a napkin. MARY: Leave it alone! This is silk! Do you know what water does to silk? No, of course you don’t! You great useless, buffoon! Oh, get out of my way! MARY takes up her coat and sweeps out of the restaurant. HENRY hurries out after her. SHIRLEY appears in shock. TERRY returns. TERRY: No sign of the food? SHIRLEY: No. TERRY: Sorry I was so long. Splashed a bit of…what’s the matter? SHIRLEY: There was a couple at the next table. TERRY: You can’t hear people come in if you’re in the toilet. Where are they? SHIRLEY: They left…it was weird. Horrible, really. TERRY: Was it? Hey - it was really embarrassing. I went to wash my hands and water splashed right out of the bowl onto my trousers. It looked as though I’d wet myself. I’ve been standing under the hand-drier. How does it look? SHIRLEY: Fine. You look OK. TERRY: Sure? SHIRLEY: Yes, really. Sit down. TERRY: What’s up with you? SHIRLEY: Nothing. TERRY: Why are you snapping at me? SHIRLEY: I’m not. Just sit down. TERRY: (Sitting) Tell me about this couple, then. SHIRLEY: Are you interested? TERRY: Yeah. SHIRLEY: They were old…well, middle aged. They were having a row before they came in, I think. She was in a foul mood. She called him all sorts of names. She even called me a “little piece.” TERRY: Little piece of what? SHIRLEY: No – just “a little piece.” She accused him of making eyes at me – “That little piece at the next table,” she said. TERRY: Rude cow! SHIRLEY: She was! It was really embarrassing. They were married, but they absolutely hated each other, you could tell. They were rowing all the time. Then he spilled water over her… TERRY: On purpose? Good for him! SHIRLEY: It wasn’t on purpose, I don’t think. But she just swept out of the room. He followed her, and then you came back. TERRY: I can’t believe I missed all the fun. SHIRLEY: It wasn’t fun. It really upset me. TERRY: Upset you? Why? SHIRLEY: Well, they were married, but it had all gone wrong. P’raps they were in love like us once, and now… How can people grow to hate each other like that? TERRY: Dunno. I wish the food would arrive. I’m starving. SHIRLEY: I mean, we say we’ll always love each other…you know – for ever. But what if they said that once? TERRY: Don’t be so silly. SHIRLEY: Don’t call me silly. TERRY: That‘s what’s making you weird, then, is it? You think because that odd couple had a row in public, we’re bound to end up the same way? SHIRLEY: Well, you don’t know… TERRY: Oh, don’t be so daft! SHIRLEY: But how do we know…? TERRY: We love each other, Shirl, we always will. It’s that simple. End of. SHIRLEY: Oh, you don’t understand. You’re a man! (Suddenly hearing an echo of Mary in her own words.) Ooh! BLACK OUT
Posted on: Fri, 27 Sep 2013 05:01:18 +0000
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