Scene One
Hilda Fluck enters from the house carrying a basket of laundry. Hilda is about fifty to fifty-five years old. She moves down to the clothesline, and as she does she speaks to her neighbour in the yard behind hers. We donāt see the neighbour. The audience is the neighbour. Hilda hangs laundry from the line as she speaks.
Hilda: Oh good morning, Mrs. Lidstrom. I see you had the same idea as I had this morning. Getting an early jump on the wash. Yes. Well, look at us, would you? Donāt we lead the glamorous lives? Weāre like Grace Kelly and Rita Hayworth, I swear. Fortunately the loads are much lighter for me these days now that the children are out of the house. You knew that my Gary moved out finally, right? . . . Yes, two weeks ago. He got a job in the city. Heās working in the food industry and living right downtown. And Janey and her husband Duncan are all settled over in Farmington. They have a lovely little split-level over there on a quiet cul-de-sac . . . Cul-de-sac. Itās French. Sounds pretty, doesnāt it? It means dead end . . . Oh yes indeed they do grow up fast. Sadly, they donāt move out of the house as fast as they grow. Oh I thought my Gary would never leave. Thirty-three years old, Mrs. Lidstrom, and he just wouldnāt go. He said he needed time to recover from his war experience. Well, God bless him for rolling up his sleeves and pitching in to crush the Nazi horde, but eleven years to recover? It only took them five years to rebuild Berlin. And then thereās Janey. Mercy me. I practically had to break her fingers to get them loose from my apron strings. I mean, youāve raised a family, Mrs. Lidstrom. You know what itās like. There comes a time when you just want to be free of the responsibility. These years ā what they call the golden years ā these should be for Mr. Fluck and myself. Lord knows weāve earned them . . . I seem anxious? Well, I am a little anxious, Mrs. Lidstrom, yes. Mr. Fluck is off to make a sizable purchase this morning and itās got me concerned . . . Oh, yes itās very dear. I just hope it doesnāt send us tumbling headlong into the poorhouse . . . Well, thank you, but hopefully we wonāt need good luck. Luck is a last resort, isnāt it? Luck is what you hope for before you start to pray.
She looks to Heaven.
God, Iām coming to you now because my luck has run out. And then God gets mad at you because you didnāt come to him first and he kills a relative. Not a close relative. A second cousin. Just to serve as a warning shot . . . All right, Mrs. Lidstrom. Iāll see you later. Have a nice day now.
Sam Fluck enters onto the back porch. He is in his mid-fifties. He wears a suit.
Sam: (moving to Hilda) Hilly? Iām all set.
Hilda: Yes, I see that. And youāre wearing a suit.
Sam: Well, I want the salesman to know that heās dealing with a certain class of gentleman here. That Sam Fluck is not just some chowderhead off the street that he can take advantage of. No, when I walk into that showroom, this suit will level the playing field. Weāll be able to talk man to man and Iāll get the best deal I can.
Hilda: Well, I hope so, Sam. We donāt have a lot of money to throw around, you know.
Sam: Donāt worry, Hilly. With the money weāre saving on the groceries we would have been buying for Gary, which we no longer have to buy, plus the clothes we bought for him and the other incidentals, we can have this purchase paid for in a matter of five or six months.
Hilda: And youāre sure we need this.
Sam: Need it? Hilly, itās not a case of need. Itās a case of finally buying something that we want. Something that will ena...
