Other Times

Ray Lawler

• Publisher: Currency Press
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781925210972
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

The middle play of Ray Lawler's Doll trilogy, set during World War II in late winter, when Barney and Roo are on leave from the army. Other Times is the fulcrum of the three plays in which the characters stop being kids and become adults. Middle age is looming and life is no longer just a game. Things are changed forever by Nancy's decision, setting the stage for Summer of the Seventeenth Doll.

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

Time: an early morning in September, 1945. The overall effect of this scene should be one of multi-purpose preparations for the day’s activities.

EMMA is on her knees before the fireplace, collecting the ashes from the night before. She works with the practised sureness of routine, her mind on other matters.

ROO is heard whistling cheerfully and he comes into the room from the direction of the kitchen. He is in his army shirt, trousers and socks, and carries a battered-looking household container with shoe-cleaning equipment. He puts this to one side, pulls out a chair from the table and climbs up to start unfastening a pair of army boots that are hanging suspended by their laces from the overhead light fitting.

EMMA pauses to watch him coping with the laces, and gestures towards a nearby pair of army socks to give voice with expressive reserve.

EMMA: Nasty socks left on the fender, slouch hats up on the pianner, that I might expect. But two boots danglin’ from the lightshade—no.

ROO: Barney thought you might like them for hanging baskets. Reckons you could plant ’em with a couple of ferns, and shove ’em out on the back verandah.

EMMA snorts and returns to her chores. ROO surveys the boots he now has free.

He’s goin’ to have ’em dipped in bronze and give to Nancy as a pair of bookends.

EMMA: Any sense, you’ll keep ’em on your feet, both of you. Pretty hard to get a decent pair of boots outside the army.

ROO: [descending from the table] Pretty hard to get a decent pair inside as well.

EMMA: Dunno you’re alive. Wait until you see the sort of things they’re sellin’ in the shops these days. And what you’ll get with your discharge is not much better.

ROO: Have to have a word, then, with your Mister Bromige. Try our luck on the black market.

EMMA: Doesn’t deal in boots. And he is not black market, Mister Bromige—

A figure appears on the back verandah and raps impatiently at the French windows for admittance. EMMA shouts an automatic dismissal.

Go ’way.

BUBBA: ’S me, Bubba.

EMMA: Know that. Go ’way. [To ROO] Mister Bromige got a feeler out, that’s all. For things that might be interestin’.

ROO: [heading for the French windows] Same lurk as an octopus.

He unlatches the French windows to admit a breathless BUBBA, wearing a school uniform, overcoat and scarf, and carrying her schoolbag and hat.

What’s this, eh? A dawn raid?

BUBBA: Thanks, Roo.

She kisses his cheek in a rushed morning greeting.

Nancy said if I came in, she’d check my homework.

She moves towards the hallway.

EMMA: Isn’t out of bed yet—don’t you go upstairs now.

BUBBA: [calling upwards] Done the English, Nance, and done me Algebra! You want to see?

NANCY: [a voice from above] How about your project?

BUBBA: ’S nothin’—hygiene. I can work on it tonight.

NANCY: Alright. I’ll be down.

BUBBA: ’S cold outside. A touch of frost. [Hanging her schoolbag and hat on the newel post] Better tell Barney to wear his woolly long’uns.

BARNEY: [from upstairs] Take a whole lot more than woolly long’uns.

BUBBA: [calling] Olive?

EMMA: Olive’s busy.

OLIVE: [approaching] No, she’s not.

OLIVE appears from the direction of the kitchen. She is wearing a dress, with a pair of slippers.

Made the sandwiches. Hello, Bub.

Offering a cheek for BUBBA’s kiss:

You’re early.

BUBBA: Homework.

OLIVE: Had your breakfast?

BUBBA: Wouldn’t mind a cup of cocoa.

EMMA: Isn’t any. You drank all we had last night.

OLIVE: Never mind. A cup of tea. [To ROO] You right, are you? Still some bacon out there—

ROO: [shaking his head, as he sets out the shoe-cleaning equipment] I’m sweet.

OLIVE: Sweet’s not the word. [A loving pat in passing] Irresistible. [Heading back for the kitchen] How’s your Auntie Maureen, love?

BUBBA: [following OLIVE off] Head is better. Feet are still up. Said I was to thank you for the stout.

EMMA: Terrible, the things she says in front ...