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ACT ONE
SCENE ONE
A building site on a remote bush block. We can see the brick footings of a small house. The site is strewn with tools, piles of bricks and general building debris. gary is working on the site, hammering down sheets of flooring onto the brick footings. He calls to the campsite offstage.
gary: Bring us the water bag, will ya?
There’s no answer.
You hear me, Sue-Anne?
Still no answer from the campsite.
Get out here now! I’m not mucking ’round.
Finally, he hurls the hammer down and stalks towards the campsite, winding himself up into a stiff-necked rage.
Sue-Anne!
On the way, he reaches down and snatches up a cheap Indian cloth shoulder bag. All he unearths from the bag is a fistful of Violet Crumble wrappers. This seems to wind him up even further until the sinews in his neck are snapped tight. The rage overtakes gary physically, like a fit that he’s accustomed to handling.
Jesus, Sue-Anne! Jesus H Christ!
He stabs his head against the air, arms jerking to stop himself punching at nothing. He circles, trying to absorb the anger in constant movement. Finally he stops, sucking in short, sharp breaths. He consciously places his body in a controlled posture, to make his body act out the movements of a calm and reasonable person. He walks back to the footings. He starts nailing again, attacking the task fiercely, pushing the rage into each swing of the job. The rage subsides gradually. He sees someone walking up the slope towards the building site. gary nods in greeting. His manner with dave is very guarded.
G’day.
dave doesn’t hurry the last few metres up to where gary is working. But he flashes gary a killer smile, laid-back and matey. dave is in his late thirties. He has cultivated an easygoing, larrikin charm that has served him well. He’s profoundly lazy, resolutely an observer, but still manages to seem like a lively, buoyant person. dave’s got the gift of adjusting his style just enough to suit whoever he’s with and getting people talking.
dave: G’day. I’m Dave.
gary: Gary.
dave: You’ll kill yourself, mate—working like that in the heat of the day.
gary: Got no choice. Gotta get it finished in time.
dave: Fair enough.
dave eases himself down to sprawl on the ground near where gary’s working.
Heard about you down at the pub. Thought I’d come over and check out how you’re going.
gary hesitates, seeing this bloke settle in for a long stay.
Don’t slow down because of me. I don’t mind if you keep working.
gary gets back into work, wary of this guy’s motives.
gary: You didn’t see a red ute along that road, did ya?
dave shakes his head, grinning. He watches gary work.
dave: What—you’re doing a pine frame, zincalume roof? What’s your cladding?
gary: Hardiplank.
dave: Good idea. Goes up very easy that stuff.
gary: You in the building trade, are ya?
dave: [with a dazzling grin] Ooh no, mate. Too much hard slog in building.
dave relaxes into comfortable silence. But gary isn’t comfortable.
gary: Live ’round here, do ya?
dave: [shaking h...
