Little Dolls (NHB Modern Plays)

Nancy Harris

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2021
• Topic: Literature
• eBook ISBN:
  9781788505239
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

Vicky seeks counselling from John to overcome her intense fear of darkness. But what if there really is some truth in her anxiety, and what if the darkness really is a disease? Nancy Harris's short play Little Dolls was first performed at the Bush Theatre, London, in October 2008 as part of The Broken Space season.

A room without light.

An armchair and a straight-backed chair turned towards each other at an angle. VICKY sits on the straight-backed chair. In the background the loud and persistent ticking of a grandfather clock.

VICKY, when she speaks, occasionally struggles for breath. Most of the time she can control it.

Until she can’t.

Silence. The sound of VICKY’s breathing.

VICKY. I suppose – I suppose we must have looked like little dolls. Lying there. Each of us in our symmetrical beds, white nighties, faces slightly flushed from the unfamiliar heat. The school had a thing about white nightdresses. They put it on the packing list they sent home to our parents and each of us had bought one specially. I remember mine had a little lace frill along the bosom. I didn’t have much in the way of a bosom at the time, but I liked that.

Mrs Lynch said a white nightdress was the marking of a lady. And that’s what we were supposed to be. Little ladies. On our best behaviour. And as such we had a uniform.

They – they made us wear our blazers even in the midday heat. Navy and scratchy against the skin. Hideously heavy. Denise in particular complained. But they had her keep it on. We were representatives, not just of a school, but of a country, they kept telling us. Little – ladies lucky enough to see the Monets at the Musée d’Orsay first hand. Little ladies fortunate enough to wander the Louvre and soak up the Seine. Little ladies who would spend ten days speaking French in a place where French was spoken. Not that it should have mattered to eleven-year-olds, but we felt a bit special. We felt a bit golden. We wanted to be good. Do you know what I mean?

Beat.

Well, of course you do. I mean, you do. Of course.

Sorry. I –

She takes a breath.

I’m fine. Where was I? Oh.

Well, I – suppose we got to the hostel some time after eleven. We had left Paris early that evening and had been driving for three maybe, four hours in the dark. We were tired. We had started the journey singing, but – we weren’t singing by the time we arrived. The hostel was pretty. Lots of wood and watercolours on the walls. A friendly overweight woman had been waiting up for us – Madame… something. We could hear the sound of crickets or frogs in the distance all around – Denise was mimicking them but Mrs Lynch told her to stop. It was getting on her nerves. Everyone was cranky with the heat. We each got a glass of orange and a biscuit and then were sent to bed because of the early start. They split us into groups of two, six in each room. I took the bed beside Denise, of course.

Normally, we would’ve stayed up. Past curfew, you know. Talking. Or – or eating sweets, or little cakes that we, that we would’ve bought when Mrs Lynch or one of the other’s backs were turned and we would’ve giggled I guess. Little girls giggle. But that night we were so – after all the travelling. I didn’t brush my teeth. Denise did. And her hair. She – um – she had lovely black hair. Thick and straight. I’m sure – I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures. Everybody comments.

She brushed it a hundred times be...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Original Production Details
• Characters
• Little Dolls
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information