SU-LIN. I hate this table, or should I not say that?
GIDEON. It’s yours, you can say what you like.
SU-LIN. It’s not mine.
GIDEON. It will be.
SU-LIN. I don’t want it. I’m going to buy a big glass one from Ikea.
GIDEON. What’ll you do with this?
SU-LIN. Freecycle? It’s mank.
GIDEON. Why?
SU-LIN. Look at it, it’s all cacked-up.
GIDEON. What’s cacked it up, though?
SU-LIN. What do you mean?
GIDEON. Pick a cack-up, any cack-up.
SU-LIN. What?
GIDEON. Want to see a coffin scratch?
SU-LIN. Is that the big one?
GIDEON. It’s not, no, nobody knows how that one happened.
SU-LIN. That one, then?
She points. He shakes his head.
GIDEON. Leopard claws.
SU-LIN. Not true.
GIDEON. True.
SU-LIN. What’s that from?
GIDEON. Mad nun’s nails.
SU-LIN. That pale bit?
GIDEON. Bleach. Or possibly urine.
SU-LIN. Urgh.
She indicates a new patch.
That?
GIDEON. Heartburn.
SU-LIN. Those?
GIDEON. That’s a thump, and that’s a joke gone wrong.
SU-LIN. That?
DAVID (twenty-six) appears in a woodworker’s apron.
GIDEON. Bits of flour from five thousand loaves of bread.
SU-LIN. That?
GIDEON. What, the sparkly bits?
SU-LIN. Which sparkly bits?
GIDEON. Tiny shards from twenty-seven million boring conversations.
SU-LIN. This?
GIDEON. Prayers.
SU-LIN. Prayers?
SU-LIN moves off. Lichfield, 1898. DAVID, a perfectionist, inspects the table with his thumb and fingers, ensuring every inch is entirely smooth. He is mirrored by GIDEON.
GIDEON slides underneath the table, touching it from beneath. He sings to himself.
GIDEON (singing).
Dear Lord and Father of Mankind
Forgive our foolish ways
Re-clothe us in our rightful mind
In purer lives thy service find
In deeper reverence praise
In deeper reverence praise.
DAVID takes off his apron, puts it away. He attaches a buttonhole to his dark jacket. A door opens. There is a spill of light.
ELIZABETH. Hello, husband.
DAVID turns to see his bride. He goes to pick her up.
DAVID. Hello, missus. Welcome home.
He carries her in.
ELIZABETH (seeing the table). What’s that doing out the workshop?
DAVID. It’s for us.
ELIZABETH. Oh, David!
She exhales.
DAVID (with some pride). Well, it’s solid.
ELIZABETH. For whoever ends up sitting at it. Eating, spilling gravy, doing schoolwork at it, God bless us all.
They admire it together. DAVID adores her, but is less comfortable with romance than work.
What now?
DAVID. An early night, perhaps...?
ELIZABETH (shy). Do you think?
She smiles, heads for the stairs. He lays her veil on the table. A tiny rough spot catches DAVID’s attention.
Hey.
DAVID (caught out). Mm?
ELIZABETH. Are you spending your wedding night down here with your table?
DAVID. No, Mrs Best, I’m not.
They leave. London, 2013. SU-LIN (nine) sits on the table wearing ELIZABETH’s veil and some headphones, singing a Chinese pop song (music by David Shrubsole, lyrics by Huan Wang).
SU-LIN (singing). U go mo yam zan tzoy foo gno sang... (Etc.)
MICHELLE (sixty), comes in with a mop. ANTHONY (forty-one), distracted, from off.
ANTHONY (off). Right.
MICHELLE. Are you off?
ANTHONY (off). Yep.
MICHELLE. Right.
ANTHONY (off). Su-Lin, make sure you help Granny-’Chelle, won’t you?
SU-LIN (singing). Mo soh why men ya gno hay tzoy wa... (Etc.)
ANTHONY (off). Right, see you later, Mum.
MICHELLE. Got everything?
ANTHONY (off). Mmm.
MICHELLE. Car keys?
He’s so tense he could burst. He checks pockets, rushes in.
ANTHONY. No, my keys, what did I do with my stupid keys?
MICHELLE. Anthony, calm down.
ANTHONY (to SU-LIN). Sorry, love, you haven’t seen the car keys, have you?
SU-LIN (singing). Ho bi tzoi mun soy hey gno... (Etc.)
ANTHONY. I put them somewhere. Why am I so rubbish?
MICHELLE. When did you last have them?
ANTHONY. Coming back from shopping.
SU-LIN finds them. She speaks in made-up Chinese.
SU-LIN. Tsing cha. (Etc.)
ANTHONY. Perfect, thank you, love, all set.
SU-LIN responds in her Chinese persona. MICHELLE and ANTHONY have a moment.
MICHELLE. Alright?
ANTHONY. Mmn. Hot.
She helps him take off his coat.
MICHELLE. He’s not Superman.
ANTHONY breathes out.
Better?
ANTHONY. Sorry. Sorry, Mum.
MICHELLE. And you’re not rubbish, you just have high expectations.
He goes.
Look at the state of this floor, Su-Lin.
SU-LIN takes off her headphones.
SU-LIN. Yo-sa-me.
MICHELLE. Translate.
SU-LIN (Chinese accent). Hello, I am your Chinese maid.
MICHELLE. I expect a top job, then, if you’re a trained maid and all.
SU-LIN (Chinese accent). Very professional, ten years old –
MICHELLE. Nine. Where d’you get the veil from?
SU-LIN (her natural London accent). Dressing up. It smells of dust.
She watches MICHELLE mop.
Are you angry?
MICHELLE. No.
SU-LIN. Sad?
MICHELLE. No.
SU-LIN. Can I have another Easter egg?
MICHELLE. After dinner.
SU-LIN. I don’t think I’m going to have dinner today.
MICHELLE. You are gonna have dinner, we’ve got guests.
SU-LIN. Guest. Is that why you’re angry?
MICHELLE. I’m not angry! I’m n...
