it felt empty when the heart went at first but it is alright now (NHB Modern Plays)

Lucy Kirkwood

• Éditeur: Nick Hern Books
• Année: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781780013121
• Sujet: Literatur
• Sous-sujet: Drama

A luminous journey exploring the life of Dijana Polancec: professional romantic, eternal optimist and accidental prostitute. Winner of the John Whiting Award, 2010

Produced by acclaimed theatre company Clean Break. it felt empty premiered at the Arcola Theatre, London in October 2009.

'unflinching... theatre that provokes in the best way, without lurid melodrama or sentimentality, but with wit and tenderness... demands that we watch and listen' The Times

'superb... deeply painful and profoundly disturbing' The Stage

PART ONE

You pay some money. You wait your turn. You are led into a room. You are given a letter. The letter is written by somebody who dots their ‘i’s with little hearts.

You are reading the letter when everything goes completely black. You cannot see your hand in front of your face. You hear bird wings flapping. The sound is all around you. It gets more and more frantic.

A scream. A loud, repeated thwacking sound. The flapping cuts out, and the lights come up.

You are in a modern, sparsely decorated flat. There is a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine. There is a mug with a smiley face and the word ‘Happy’ on it. A pair of kicked-off pink high heels. A small fridge.

DIJANA is standing on a bed with a rolled-up newspaper. She is dressed in a miniskirt and a strappy top. She breathes sharply and deeply. Frozen like a child caught doing something naughty. There is a dead bird lying on the floor. She has just killed it with the newspaper.

DIJANA. It wasn’t me.

Beat. She scrambles down off the bed.

Don’t be mad, shit, but, no but it flew in at the window and then it was flapping was frightened

THIS IS SO NOT WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW it

could not go out again. Stupid bird. Sorry. You should not say bad of the dead but

I try! Try to push it out with newspaper try to HELP IT, hello! but then it fly, it fly right at my face and so I

panic and I

hit it and now is

dead. Is dead is dead on my floor and I am so so sorry. I am so sorry. But he should look where he goes!

She throws the newspaper in the bin and squats on the floor. Peering at the bird.

His beak… is broken. I broke it. I didn’t mean.

Her face crumples. She starts to cry.

I think is a baby. It is so small. Oh shit. Oh God. Poor baby. Poor bird. I wish you did not see this.

She starts to brush at her arms, as if sweeping off invisible insects.

I am so sorry baby. This is horror to see. I wish you did not –

She stops suddenly. Shakes her head. Takes out a mobile phone and dials, pacing, one eye on the bird. Waits.

(Muttering.) Babac is not answering.

Hangs up. Rubs her head.

Shit FUCK.

She stares at the bird.

I am so glad I am out of here soon. I cannot fucking wait I tell you.

She picks up the bin, finds a plastic bag and starts counting out used condoms.

One, two

Three four five

Six seven

Eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen eighteen nineteen

Twenty twenty-one

Beat.

Today is quiet. Usually, Saturday, special so close to Christmas, thirty maybe. Today? Only twenty-one.

Her phone beeps. A text. She looks at it.

Twenty-two. Ten minutes.

So twenty-two including next one, yes. Not so bad twenty-two. Maybe enough, twenty-two.

Beat. She takes out a small notebook and a pencil.

My maths it is very good. I have a head for numbers. Babac always say, You have a head for numbers Dijana Polančec. So. Twenty-one. Not including next. All fucks. So twenty-one times thirty is…

She writes the sum and works it out.

sixty hundred thirty UK pounds.

She pencils this figure in.

Plus two times fifteen for blowjobs plus five times ten for handjobs is

eighty add to six hundred thirty minus fifty for rent today and ten pounds for tissues and one hundred for maid is five hundred fifty profit, take this from monies outstanding…

She works it out, then writes in her calculation. Holds up the notebook.

I keep account. I keep account of money I earn very careful because when this number reaches twenty thousand UK pounds then I will have earned all the money I owe to Babac and he will give me my passport and I can stop.

I have earned already… nineteen thousand nine hundred and seventy pounds. So when I have earned thirty UK pounds more I can stop. That is the deal. When Babac tell me the deal I am like Oh! Yeah! Sure! Like I am gonna fucking trust you! Do I look like some IDIOT?! But I make it proper. We have a contract. I draw it myself and I make him sign it so yeah. It is all on paper.

I need only thirty UK pounds.

After next client I will have earned this.

So next client he will be my last.

Beat.

The next is the last.

Beat. This is a momentous thing to absorb.

So tomorrow I come to find you.

The first thing to do is to buy you chips and a swimming suit.

We are going to swim in the sea. I am going to eat chips in a car and swim in the sea with my baby. In Brighton.

She takes out a dog-eared, folded ultrasound image. Examines it.

I promise you. Can you hear me?

Knock once for yes and twice for no!

I wish I had other photos of you. Look how I have rubbed your face off. And you are so small here. You look like a fucking Heinz Baked Bean!

She laughs. Puts the print away. Then looks at her phone.

I better get ready.

She ties her hair up. We see there is a letter ‘B’ branded into the back of her neck. She picks up a foundation compact, wipes it round her face. Puts some lipstick on. Picks up a thong from the bed.

Babac gave me this. It is bit small for me, the girl before she must have been so thin. It’s clean, I wash it really hot with soap. I have two others and also a bra.

She puts the underwear on under her skirt. She takes a big tub of Vaseline from under the bed and wipes some inside herself. Picks up two bottles.

Look. Babac did not give me these I took them by myself from bootsthechemist.

L’Oréal shampoo. And conditioner too. Because I’m worth it!

She pulls her hair out of its ponytail like she’s in a shampoo advert and shakes her head in slow motion.

See.

But she doesn’t laugh.

This is extra funny because I know exactly how much I am worth. How many people can say this! I am worth one thousand euros because that is how much Babac pay for me.

To put this in easy language, that is like two-and-a-half iPhones.

She puts the bottles back carefully, arranges them on the chest of drawers. Tidies the bed. Then sits on it. She stares at the bird. Thinking.

Something strange happen this morning also. This guy, he come and we fuck. Just normal him on top once then in my mouth and he come on my tits but after he go something weird, he go

Ummm… do you want me to call someone?

And in my head I am like Yeah do you have number of a dentist cos your breath stink.

But I do not say out loud. I do not say nothing.

But this guy he is still standing there and my next client he is coming and the guy he is looking all red and English like meat and he go Ummm you don’t have to do this if you don’t want you know.

And in my head I’m like Uh, okay it is like none of your business! Shit! Like I don’t do what I want you know? I am fine. You think I stay here if I am not fine? I am fucking great mate! And anyway it is not like there are so many things I could do you know! It is not like I went to Oxford University or something!

Anyway I tell him, Today is my last day, actually. That shut him up!

He go, Oh.

Yeah I say, Tomorrow I will not be working here no more, which actually is true, I say I am starting new job in an office in the Canary Wharf, which is a small lie ...