Alys, Always

(stage version)

Harriet Lane, Lucinda Coxon

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9781848428409
• eBook ISBN: 9781788501606
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

A psychological thriller excavating the fault lines that separate the entitled from the rest, Alys, Always is adapted for the stage by Lucinda Coxon from Harriet Lane's gripping novel.

Frances works on the books pages of a Sunday newspaper. She's quiet and capable, but nobody takes much notice: her face is pressed to the window, on the outside, looking in.

One evening, driving back to London after visiting her infuriating parents, she comes across an overturned car crumpled on the side of the road. She waits with the injured driver, Alys Kyte, until the ambulance arrives. Later, when Alys's famous family gets in touch, Frances finds herself ushered for the first time into the world on the other side of the window. And she begins to wonder: what will it take to belong?

This stage version of Alys, Always was premiered at the Bridge Theatre, London, in February 2019, directed by Nicholas Hytner and starring Joanne Froggatt and Robert Glenister.

'Wonderfully observed… a gripping, psychologically complex achievement, whose greatest success is the lingering sense of unease' Sunday Telegraph on Harriet Lane's novel

Chapter One

Weather – wind lashing trees along a rural B road.

The slow squeak and tock of cheap windscreen wipers clearing sleet.

FRANCES exercises restraint as she tells us what’s happening. But it isn’t going to end well.

FRANCES. It’s not long after six, but it’s been dark for hours…

And the roads are completely deserted.

There’s sleet on the windscreen. The heat’s up full blast. But it’s still all steamed over.

I’m approaching the Imberly crossroads. I just touch the brake, but I feel the tyres slide – and it scares me…

A light sweeps across her for a moment.

And that’s when I see the big Audi Estate – pulling up, on the Biddenbrooke road.

And I’m really relieved to see somebody else.

It’s my right of way, but the Audi pulls out. I don’t mind, because I’d rather follow, you know…?

But her tail lights are there for a moment, then gone.

So I’m left in the dark, on my own.

FRANCES’s mood darkens accordingly.

And the fog’s really thick as the road winds down into Wistleborough Wood…

And I’m starting to really hate my life… I’m hating my life and my tinny red Fiat and –

A cacophony of metal and glass crashing – and then silence… FRANCES hurries to a ditch at the side of the road from which a car’s tail lights glow…

Hello…?

ALYS’s voice, from within – muffled, distressed.

ALYS (offstage). Hello…? Are you there? I can’t see you… Is somebody there?

FRANCES. Yes… Are you alright? I’ve called for help.

ALYS (offstage). Oh, thank you… thank you… I thought I heard someone…

FRANCES presses her face against a window, but can see nothing.

FRANCES. Are you hurt, do you think?

ALYS (offstage). My… my legs aren’t too good… They don’t seem to be working…

FRANCES. I could try to get down to you, but I’m worried in case…

ALYS (offstage). No, that’s probably best. Let’s just wait.

FRANCES acquiesces, helpless. Silence settles between them for a moment. Then –

I think I might have knocked my head.

FRANCES. Is it bleeding?

ALYS (offstage). It doesn’t seem to be…

FRANCES. The ambulance won’t be long. I’m sure.

ALYS (offstage). You won’t leave me…?

FRANCES. Of course not…

ALYS (offstage). Thank you. That’s kind.

I’m being a nuisance.

FRANCES. Don’t be silly. What’s your name?

FRANCES waits – no reply.

Hello…?

FRANCES presses her face against the glass, worried. Finally –

Can you hear me…?

ALYS (offstage). Yes… it’s Alys. With a ‘y’.

FRANCES is relieved.

FRANCES. Alys. Okay. Well, I’m Frances. With an ‘e’.

ALYS (offstage). Ha. Mm.

ALYS sounds weak.

FRANCES. Listen, Alys, you’re going to be fine.

ALYS (offstage). I thought I saw a dog in the road, you see… A dog or a fox. Or…

A strange sound – a small cry of pain, perhaps. FRANCES quickens, worried.

FRANCES. Alys…?

No reply.

It won’t be much longer. But you need to keep talking…

Alys?

FRANCES waits, then…

Are you cold?

ALYS (offstage). I don’t think so. Are you?

FRANCES. I’m fine.

FRANCES searches for small talk.

Have you had a nice Christmas?

ALYS (offstage). Not especially. No. And yourself?

FRANCES. No, not really.

ALYS (offstage). Oh well… can’t complain.

The absurdity of the exchange settles for a moment before ALYS gives up the strange cry of pain again. FRANCES is frightened now.

FRANCES. Alys… Say something…?

But then – sirens, blue flashing lights!

Oh Alys, they’re here, look! They’re coming, hold on!

FRANCES waves her arms, shouts over the siren…

Over here! Can you see me? Can you see me…?

A bright light finds FRANCES and a FEMALE POLICE OFFICER races in to cloak her in a foil wrap, hurries her aside, as police colleagues work on the crashed car. FRANCES explains to the PC –

It’s my right of way, but the Audi pulls out.

PC. You said that before.

FRANCES. Did I?

We see now the PC has written all this in her notepad.

PC. It’s alright, it’s the shock. So, you got to the crossroads. It’s your right of way. She pulls out. Would you say she was speeding?

FRANCES. No – I don’t think so… Will she be alright?

PC. You’ve been brilliant.

FRANCES. But is Alys going to be…?

The PC cuts her off…

PC. Are you okay to drive on to London?

FRANCES tries to catch up…

Might be best to go back to your parents’ place?

FRANCES. No – God, no. I… I’ve got work tomorrow.

PC. What is it you do?

FRANCES. A newspaper.

The PC packs her notepad away.

PC. Can’t they manage without you for a morning?

FRANCES. Can’t afford to find out. Look, I don’t need this…

FRANCES takes off the foil blanket, hands it over.

PC. Anyone waiting at home for you?

FRANCES. I’ll be fine. Honestly. Thanks.

PC. Okay. But drive safe. I’ll be in touch.

The PC leaves to join her colleagues. FRANCES steps away from the crash site, still very shaken.

FRANCES talks to us. She’s exhausted, still upset.

FRANCES. By the time I get home, Tesco Metro’s long closed. Even the kebab place downstairs from me’s shut. I park right outside, and just sit in the car.

I make fists to stop my hands shaking. And I think: Frances… you’re not so badly off.

A fruity voice booms into FRANCES’s world –

OLIVER. ‘Death by Desire’, anyone?

The offices of The Questioner are conjured into being.

RECEPTIONIST’S VOICE. Good morning, The Questioner…? Robin McAllfree? Certainly – can I ask who’s calling?

OLIVER. ‘Keep Calm and Cupcake’?

RECEPTIONIST’S VOICE. Good morning, The Questioner? Frances Thorpe? Certainly – can I ask who’s calling?

FRANCES quickly comes to, settles at her desk, works hard, against the clock. Her colleague OLIVER brandishes another book, broadcasting to no one in particular.

OLIVER. Have they ever read the paper? I mean, how often has The Questioner’s Books section devoted its column ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Dedication
• Characters
• Alys, Always
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information