Hindle Wakes

Stanley Houghton

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN: 9781849434218
• eBook ISBN: 9781849436366
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

It's holiday week in the Lancashire town of Hindle, just before the First World War. Fanny Hawthorne, a spirited, determined mill girl, has just returned from a weekend in Blackpool with her friend Mary Hollins. At least that's what she tells her parents. In fact, she's been spending the weekend with Alan Jeffcote, a wealthy mill owner's son who is engaged to someone else. When Fanny's parents discover the truth, they set out to ensure that Alan will do the decentthing and marry her – only to discover that Fanny has her own ideas on the matter... One of the first plays to have a working class female protagonist, Hindle Wakes was hugely controversial at the time of its writing.

ACT I

SCENE 1

The scene is triangular, representing a corner of the living room kitchen of No. 137, Burnley Road, Hindle, a house rented at about 7s. 6d. a week.

In the left-hand wall, low down, there is a door leading to the scullery. In the same wall, but further away from the spectator, is a window looking onto the backyard. A dresser standing in front of the window, about half-way up the right-hand wall is the door leading to the hall or passage. Nearer, against the same wall, a high cupboard for china and crockery. The fireplace is not visible, being in one of the walls not represented. However, down in the L. corner of the stage is an armchair, which stands by the hearth. In the middle of the room is a square table, with chairs on each side. The room is cheerful and comfortable. It is nine o’clock on a warm August evening. Through the window can be seen the darkening sky, as the blind is not drawn. Against the sky an outline of rooftops and mill chimneys. The only light is the dim twilight from the open window. Thunder is in the air. When the curtain rises CHRISTOPHER HAWTHORN, a decent white-headed man of nearly sixty is sitting in the armchair smoking a pipe. MRS. HAWTHORN, a keen sharp-faced woman of fifty-five is standing gazing out of the window. There is a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder far away.

MRS. HAWTHORN: It’s passing over. There’ll be no rain.

CHRISTOPHER: Ay! we could do with some rain.

There is a flash of lightning.

CHRISTOPHER: Pull down the blind and light the gas.

MRS. HAWTHORN: what for?

CHRISTOPHER: It’s more cosy-like with the gas.

MRS. HAWTHORN: You’re not afraid of the lightning?

CHRISTOPHER: I want to look at that railway guide.

MRS. HAWTHORN: what’s the good? we’ve looked at it twice already. There’s no train from Blackpool till five-past ten, and it’s only just on nine now.

CHRISTOPHER: Happen we’ve made a mistake.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Happen we’ve not. Besides, what’s the good of a railway guide? You know trains run as they like on Bank Holiday.

CHRISTOPHER: Ay! Perhaps you’re right. You don’t think she’ll come round by Manchester?

MRS. HAWTHORN: what would she be doing coming round by Manchester?

CHRISTOPHER: You can get that road from Blackpool.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Yes. If she’s coming from Blackpool.

CHRISTOPHER: Have you thought she may not come at all?

MRS. HAWTHORN: (Grimly.) what do you take me for?

CHRISTOPHER: You never hinted.

MRS. HAWTHORN: No use putting them sort of ideas into your head.

Another flash and a peal of thunder.

CHRISTOPHER: well, well, those are lucky who haven’t to travel at all on Bank Holiday.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Unless they’ve got a motor-car, like Nat Jeffcote’s lad.

CHRISTOPHER: Nay. He’s not got one.

MRS. HAWTHORN: what? why, I saw him with, my own eyes setting out in it last Saturday week after the mill shut.

CHRISTOPHER: Ay! He’s gone off these wakes with his pal George Ramsbottom. A couple of thick beggars, those two!

MRS. HAWTHORN: Then what do you mean telling me he’s not got a motor-car?

CHRISTOPHER: I said he hadn’t got one of his own. It’s his father’s. You don’t catch Nat Jeffcote parting with owt before his time. That’s how he holds his lad in check, as you might say.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Alan Jeffcote’s seldom short of cash. He spends plenty.

CHRISTOPHER: Ay! Nat gives him what he asks for, and doesn’t want to know how he spends it either. But he’s got to ask for it first. Nat can stop supplies any time if he’s a mind.

MRS. HAWTHORN: That’s likely, isn’t it?

CHRISTOPHER: Queerer things have happened. You don’t know Nat like I do. He’s a bad one to get across with.

Another flash and gentle peal, MRS. HAWTHORN gets up.

MRS. HAWTHORN: I’ll light the gas.

She pulls down the blind and lights the gas.

CHRISTOPHER: when I met Nat this morning he told me that Alan had telegraphed from Llandudno on Saturday asking for twenty pounds.

MRS. HAWTHORN: From Llandudno?

CHRISTOPHER: Ay! Reckon he’s been stopping there. Run short of brass.

MRS. HAWTHORN: And did he send it ?

CHRISTOPHER: Of course he sent it. Nat doesn’t stint the lad. (He laughs quietly.) Eh, but he can get through it, though!

MRS. HAWTHORN: Look here. what are you going to say to Fanny when she comes ?

CHRISTOPHER: Ask her where she’s been.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Ask her where she’s been! Of course we’ll do that. But suppose she won’t tell us?

CHRISTOPHER: She’s always been a good girl.

MRS. HAWTHORN: She’s always gone her own road. Suppose she tells us to mind our own business?

CHRISTOPHER: I reckon it is my business to know what she’s been up to.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Don’t you forget it. And don’t let her forget it either. If you do I promise you I won’t!

CHRISTOPHER: All right. where’s that postcard?

MRS. HAWTHORN: Little good taking heed of that.

CHRISTOPHER rises and gets a picture postcard from the dresser.

CHRISTOPHER: (Reading.) ‘Shall be home before late on Monday. Lovely weather.’ (Looking at the picture.) North Pier, Blackpool. Very like, too.

MRS. HAWTHORN: (Suddenly.) Let’s have a look. when was it posted?

CHRISTOPHER: It’s dated Sunday.

MRS. HAWTHORN: That’s nowt to go by. Anyone can put the wrong date. what’s the post-mark.? (She scrutinises it.) ‘August 5^th, summat p.m.’ I can’t make out the time.

CHRISTOPHER: August 5^th. That was yesterday, all right. There’d only be one post on Sunday.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Then she was in Blackpool up to yesterday, that’s certain.

CHRISTOPHER: Ay!

MRS. HAWTHORN: well, it’s a mystery.

CHRISTOPHER: (Shaking his head.) Or summat worse.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Eh? You don’t think that, eh?

CHRISTOPHER: I don’t know what to think.

MRS. HAWTHORN: Nor me neither.

They sit silent for a time. There is a rumble of thunder, far away.

After i...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half-title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Characters
• ACT I
• ACT II
• ACT III