Still (NHB Modern Plays)

Frances Poet

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2021
• Print ISBN: 9781839040276
• eBook ISBN: 9781788504638
• Topic: Littérature
• Subtopic: Théâtre britannique

'Folk say you can trick a brain. Placebo power. I'm going to stand up and it'll feel better.'

Across Edinburgh, five souls stagger towards each other, hoping to be transformed.

Gaynor's got to leave the house if she wants to meet her newborn granddaughter. Stillness has been the only way to deal with her chronic pain but now it's time to move.

Gilly's not sure what her dying dad's feeling but the one thing she knows from experience is that it's best not to Google it.

Dougie and Ciara have spent their last NCT class preparing for the labour pains ahead, but now it's time for one last night on the dance floor.

And then there's Mick, who wakes up on Portobello Beach in the early hours of the morning with two gold rings in his pocket. He can't remember what they're for but he knows it's something important. He'll work out what if only his old pal, Pat, will stop buying him drinks…

Full of tenderness and humour, Frances Poet's play Still is a cathartic story of life, loss and joy.

It was premiered at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, in August 2021.

1. Exruciating Pain

Friday. A heavily pregnant CIARA is in her surgery with GILLY.

GILLY. It’s been there quite a while, I suppose. And I tend to be a head-in-the-sand kind of a person at the best of times so I probably should have come a long time ago. And it’s pretty gross and I’m not very good with stuff like that so I suppose I hoped it would just sort itself out. But it hasn’t. It’s grown. It’s kind of a… red mushroom coming from the, you know…

She points ‘down there’.

CIARA. Okay…

GILLY. It’s actually quite pronounced. And it’s, well, now it’s gone black so…

CIARA. Black?

GILLY. Well a dark sort of… yes, I’d say black.

CIARA. How long has it been black?

GILLY. A few days. Which I don’t suppose is a very good thing, is it?

CIARA. And pain?

GILLY. Yes. I didn’t… At first… I mean. I’ve been distracted so… but yes, I’d say quite considerable pain now. Sitting and whatnot. Excruciating pain even.

CIARA. Let’s take a look, shall we?

GILLY nods and gets up. Not to remove her trousers – this isn’t her consultation. She brings out a small pug from a carry case to her side.

GILLY. Come on, puggywug. This nice lady is going to look at your bits.

CIARA takes the dog.

CIARA. Hello… Puggywug, is it?

GILLY. Mr Immanuel Kant.

CIARA. Sorry?

GILLY. I know, right? It was either that or James Joyce, which would have been no better since she’s a girl. Not that my dad could remember that. He has dementia. Lewy bodies. I think he would have called her that even if he had remembered her gender. His sense of humour’s always been a bit… She’s his pug.

CIARA is examining the pug.

CIARA. What’s her appetite like?

GILLY. Not great.

CIARA. Has she been drinking?

GILLY. Not since she joined AA.

Tumbleweed.

Sorry. No, not really. She’s never been a big drinker though. Of water.

CIARA finishes her examination.

CIARA. She has a prolapsed vagina.

GILLY. I didn’t know that was even a thing.

CIARA. In dogs that aren’t neutered it’s fairly common. The thing is, we would have hoped to catch this much sooner than we have.

GILLY. But you can make her better?

CIARA. No. I’m sorry.

GILLY. Can’t you just cut it out?

CIARA. It’s part of her vaginal wall, we can’t cut it away. I’m afraid the best thing we can do for her is to put an end to her /

GILLY. No.

CIARA. I know this is hard…

GILLY. I’m taking her home with me. If there’s nothing you can do, we’ll just go.

GILLY gets up to take her.

CIARA. You can hear her breathing is shallow and she’s running a very high temperature. She’s septicaemic. She’s not getting better from this. And she’s in a lot of pain. The kindest thing to do /

CIARA has positioned herself (and her enormous bump) between GILLY and the dog.

GILLY. Can you move please?

CIARA. I can see how important Mr… erm.

GILLY. Mr Immanuel Kant.

CIARA. Yes, it’s clear that Mr Iman… Iman–

GILLY. Immanuel Kant.

CIARA. Yes. It’s clear that… (Spit it out CIARA, you can do this.) she is very important to you. And it’s hard when you love them so much but ask yourself what you’d want if you were in pain /

GILLY. I am in pain!

She really is. And suddenly it’s pouring out of her.

My dad is dying. His swallow has gone. So he’s getting no fluids. The doctors say he’ll die in days. And now you want to kill his dog too?! Not this week. Please. I need her this week. I can’t watch them both die.

CIARA flounders. She’s not qualified to deal with this.

CIARA. No. No. Of course not.

GILLY. Is there anything we can do?

CIARA considers.

CIARA. We can push it back in and give her a course of antibiotics. It will be painful and it won’t work. But it might buy you a little time.

GILLY. Thank you.

CIARA. Okay.

GILLY. I’ll bring her back in. If she’s in a lot of pain. I promise. And then you can, you know. End it for her. Just not today.

CIARA. Okay.

GILLY. How do you do it?

CIARA. A wee injection. It’s all over in two minutes.

GILLY. So quick. My dad’s on day three. Could you give me a dose for him?

CIARA. Not the same for humans.

GILLY. Why not?

CIARA. You can’t explain to an animal why they’re feeling what they are.

GILLY. Nobody can explain to my dad either. Or if they could, he’d forget. Would I watch as you inject her?

CIARA. It’s best. She’ll need you to stroke her, talk to her so she can hear your voice.

GILLY. What am I supposed to say to somebody that’s dying?

CIARA. Just talk the way you usually do…

GILLY. We haven’t talked properly in years. And when he tried to apologise for that, for being shit when my mum died, I didn’t understand. He’d bought all this random crap and.

Sorry.

I’ll ask for you. When I make the appointment.

CIARA holds her bump.

CIARA. Last day today.

GILLY. Congratulations. Do you know what you’re having?

CIARA. A little girl.

GILLY. Got a name picked out?

CIARA. She’s taking my surname so my husband gets to choose.

GILLY. Hope he’s a better name-picker than my dad.

CIARA. Me too. No offence…

My colleagues are great. They’ll see you right.

GILLY doesn’t look convinced.

2. Portobello Beach

MICK climbs out of the bath. He’s on a beach, wearing yesterday’s clothes, which are wet and covered in damp sand. He’s disorientated and clutching at his head.

He focuses enough to take in the audience. He looks at them long and hard. He is confused.

MICK. Where the fuck am I?

3. Still

Saturday morning. GAYNOR remains absolutely still while DOUGIE hurries round her.

DOUGIE. I couldn’t get the cannelloni you like so I got tortellini instead. I’ve crammed about a hundred meals in the freezer. M&S’s finest – lasagnes, chillis, the lot. I’ve also managed to squeeze one of those six-pint bottles of milk in there so even if I can’t get back for a while, you’ll have milk for your tea and your cereal. I know it doesn’t taste great defrosted. The texture’s all… and it looks yellow. Like you’ve scooped up snow that some dog’s pissed in… anyway, it’ll have to do.

Nothing from GAYNOR.

I’m not saying I won’t be in. I’ll try but it’s uncharted territory, isn’t it? I’ve got loads to tie up at the office and I still haven’t chosen a name. When I can, I’ll be round. Okay?

Silence.

I’d say it’s about now, Mum. That you should say thank you.

GAYNOR looks up, then out to the audience, whom she addresses. DOUGIE does not hear this but waits for his mother to respond.

GAYNOR. Hang a rat from her tail, she’ll struggle to get free. But not for long. Not ’cause she gets comfortable. Gravity pushing blood onto her wee brain, a great pounding pressure. It hurts. But she kens that if she struggles on for...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Original Production Details
• Dedication
• Acknowledgements
• Epigraphs
• Still
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information