State Red

Atiha Sen Gupta

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN: 9781783191994
• eBook ISBN: 9781783196982
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Theatre Playwriting

'You have to realise your decisions have consequences not only for you but for all of us – most of all your father! ' It's late. Richard and Joyce have just returned home from the House of Lords – another boozy, gruelling but important social event that further cements Richard's chance of being promoted to Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police. To their astonishment, and relief, they find their estranged son, Luke, fast asleep on the sofa. After a year's absence – and with only one email letting them know he was safe – where has he been? More importantly, why has he come back? And will Luke's demons play hell with Richard's promotion? Atiha Sen Gupta's fiery family drama challenges the 'family always comes first' ethos and boldly confronts the fissures in our modern multicultural society that infiltrate through to the highest ranks.

LIGHTS UP.

LUKE enters through the front door. He heaves a large black shoulder bag into the room. He closes the door behind him.

He stops and stares at everything around him. He walks downstage with the bag and leaves it by the sofa. He stares at it.

He sits on the sofa, checks his watch, exhales and then retrieves a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his tracksuit bottoms. He lights up.

He gets up and examines a framed photograph on the wall. He squints trying to view a figure in it, as if in disbelief.

A police siren is heard crescendoing, LUKE starts.

He goes to the kitchen, takes one last drag and puts his cigarette out in the sink and throws it into the bin.

He walks up the stairs.

BLACKOUT.

LIGHTS UP.

The front door opens and RICHARD, JOYCE and MATTHEW spill into the room.

RICHARD: (Acting out opening a champagne bottle, upper-class English accent.) …Don’t shoot that thing at me – I might lose an eye! (As RICHARD.) And I’m thinking, hold on – it might actually be an improvement.

MATTHEW laughs, JOYCE smiles.

JOYCE: (To MATTHEW.) Don’t encourage him.

RICHARD: What? I was miles away! (Shaking his head.) Honestly, some people…you’d think they’d be grateful you were just about to pour them a glass of expensive bubbly.

JOYCE: You serving them champagne meant you didn’t have to talk to them! (Indicating MATTHEW.) If it wasn’t for him, I’d have drowned in a sea of titles.

MATTHEW: Anytime, Joyce.

JOYCE: (Cracking up.) Did you see her face when I said ‘Muswell Hill’?

MATTHEW: Absolute. Legend.

JOYCE: (As woman, frustrated.) But where are you really from?

RICHARD: They weren’t that bad!

MATTHEW: How would you know? You left us peasants to fend for ourselves!

RICHARD: Hey – whose side are you on?

MATTHEW: (Standing to attention.) On the side of truth and justice, sir, like you always taught me.

RICHARD: (Screwing up his face.) Forget that bollocks.

JOYCE: Language!

MATTHEW: I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.

JOYCE: Why don’t you stay?

MATTHEW: I’ve got the car.

JOYCE: Just crash upstairs!

MATTHEW: It won’t take me a minute.

JOYCE: (Taking her heels off, wincing and rubbing her feet.) I don’t like you going out late. And you’ve been drinking.

RICHARD: Why don’t you leave the powers of house arrest to me, darling?

MATTHEW: (Nodding towards RICHARD.) If anyone stops me, I’ll just tell them who I’ve spent the evening with.

RICHARD: (Making his way to the stairs.) Oh – stop – if I had any modesty left, I’d be blushing.

JOYCE: He may run the world, but I run this house – you’re staying.

MATTHEW: Thanks for the back-up!

RICHARD: Nothing personal – I’ve got an extra early start, is all.

JOYCE: (Beat.) Why?

RICHARD: Because I have a day job.

JOYCE: And teaching the next generation to be useful members of society isn’t?

RICHARD: You know what I mean.

JOYCE: You’re up to something.

RICHARD: You’re paranoid.

JOYCE: Did the Home Secretary have a word?

RICHARD: Curiosity killed the cat, my dear.

JOYCE: Good job I’m not a cat.

RICHARD: (RICHARD grabs JOYCE mock violently, she shrieks.) Miao! (RICHARD kisses her. To MATTHEW.) Parental Guidance is advised, lad.

MATTHEW shields his eyes like a child.

JOYCE: I don’t know what you’re screwing up your eyes for – how do you think you came about?

MATTHEW: (Pointing at them.) Not like that. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?

RICHARD: No, no. One was enough. (To MATTHEW.) You should stay – better to be safe.

A silence.

JOYCE: Who wants a hot drink?

MATTHEW shakes his head, RICHARD nods.

JOYCE makes her way to the kitchen, as she does so she sniffs.

JOYCE: Is that –

MATTHEW: (Sniffing.) – Cigarette smoke?

RICHARD: Hey, hey. Don’t look at me – I’ve been clean for seven years.

JOYCE: A cigarette doesn’t smoke itself. (Motioning to MATTHEW.) And I can’t imagine he’d allow himself to smoke. You on the other hand –

RICHARD: He sits around all day waiting for something to happen – I’m the workhorse!

MATTHEW: It must be hard keeping the Ivory Tower clean, hey Richard?

RICHARD and MATTHEW exchange silly faces.

JOYCE: Hmmm… (JOYCE places the kettle under the sink to fill it and sniffs again.) You little liar!

RICHARD: Not guilty your honour.

JOYCE: Whatever happened to truth and justice?

MATTHEW: Spill the beans.

RICHARD: Honest to god.

JOYCE: You don’t believe in god.

RICHARD: What’s with all these ad hominem attacks?

MATTHEW: Don’t think your northern charm can save you now, you old Sweat.

RICHARD: (Chuckling.) Racists – the lot of you! We northerners were the first immigrants, don’t you forget… And this old Sweat will be running the city of London soon if you’re not careful.

JOYCE: I knew it!

RICHARD: Let’s just say…don’t be surprised if I’m voted Britain’s hunkiest policeman before the year’s out.

MATTHEW: (Laughing.) Good night.

JOYCE: Help me get some sense out of him.

MATTHEW: (Shaking his head.) See you in the morning.

JOYCE: Don’t you want a herbal tea, honey?

MATTHEW: How old do I look?

RICHARD: Just don’t come crying to us in the middle of the night when you’re suffering from the champagne sweats.

MATTHEW: (Laughing.) First world problems.

RICHARD: Good night, son.

JOYCE: Sleep well.

RICHARD: (Examining his uniform.) I feel like a bloody Christmas tree.

JOYCE: (Rubbing her eyes.) You must be glad that’s all over.

RICHARD: It’s tiring being the best looking couple in the room, isn’t it?

JOYCE: You’re selling us short – I would have gone for borough! (Beat.) I don’t know why but everyone kept coming up to me and commenting on how utterly charismatic you are…

RICHARD: (Grabbing his heart, making a croaking sound, JOYCE is worried.) You…paying me a compliment? I think I’m having a heart attack.

JOYCE: (Slapping him.) Camomile or peppermint?

RICHARD: I’ll have the whisky flavour.

JOYCE: Be serious for once.

RICHARD: I’m serious all the bloody time – even more so, now. This is my only space to be a –

JOYCE: Twat?

RICHARD: (Laughing.) You do have a way with words, love.

JOYCE: You’re not the only Cambridge graduate in the room…

RICHARD: I stand corrected.

RICHARD hugs JOYCE and spins her around so that she is facing the kitchen.

JOYCE: I just wish –

RICHARD: (Squeezing JOYCE sympathetically.) I know love.

JOYCE: (Pause. Smiling.) When you get this –

RICHARD: If, darling, not when, I don’t want to jinx any –

RICHARD sees LUKE. MATTHEW follows behind him.

J...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Characters
• State Red
• By the Same Author