Putting The Children First
Amanda L Bellamy

 

Putting the Children First

by A Bellamy

 

Scene One

To one side of the stage there are 2 chairs neatly tucked underneath a table.  On the table is a box with unwrapped gifts and a large bouquet of flowers.  DIANE leans against the front of the table looking through a handful of retirement cards. KATE enters carrying another box of gifts and places them on the floor.

 

DIANE

(laughing)

You know Kate, for the Head of English Jeff Chambers has appalling handwriting, I’d like to think he’s wishing me ‘a pleasant retirement’, what do you think? (shows her the card)

 

KATE

I honestly can’t make it out, but at least he avoided the usual ‘best wishes for the future’.

 

DIANE

Perhaps Jeff doesn’t think there is much of a future following retirement, apart from gardening and listening to Saga on the radio.

 

KATE

Trowel-in-hand with muddy knees?  It’s not really you!  And you must remember it is early retirement! What a luxury!

 

DIANE

I could always start reading ‘People’s Friend’ or ‘My Weekly’, to help me adapt to my new situation in life. Do they still publish ‘People’s Friend’?  Perhaps I should take up lace-making, or caravanning. My God, I’m old aren’t I?   I must be if I’m retiring! Early or not! (laughs)

 

KATE

Have you seen the ads on TV for ‘Bath Knight’, or the Stannah stair lifts?  I somehow don’t think you’re ready for that sort of assistance yet.

 

DIANE

The Lord God forbid. I have plans, Kate and they don’t involve getting mud under my nails, clogging my ears with sedentary claptrap or waiting with baited breath for the new edition of the ‘Betterware’ magazine.  And by the way, I live in a bungalow.

 

KATE

It will take us a while to get used to somebody else, come next term.

 

DIANE

It won’t take as long as you think.  Besides, Mr Morgan has been here nearly ten years and it was no secret he was the Governors’ favourite to take my place. He’s a very capable individual, he deserves your support, Kate. You and the rest of the staff.

 

KATE

Of course.

 

DIANE

The main thing is, the students like him.  They respect him and that’s an awe-inspiring achievement these days. Well, I’d better get these into the car.  (disparagingly) My daughter’s arranged some sort of dinner-party.  Against my better judgement, I might add.

 

KATE

I’ll help you. (places the flowers on top of one of the boxes and lifts it. She takes a couple of steps to exit, then hesitates and turns back to face DIANE) It’s you whose been the inspiration…(embarrassed)…my inspiration.  I just want you to know that.  I would never have had the confidence to take my PGCE, not after ten years of being in admin. I didn’t want you to leave without me saying it.  I feel a bit silly now.

 

DIANE

(puts the cards in the other box and lifts it, laughing)   Come on, lead the way. I’ve had enough congratulatory adjectives flung my way today, you won’t make me misty eyed, you know. (pauses, regretting her response and changes her tone) Thank you Kate. I know I’m not the easiest person to say that to.  You will make an excellent teacher, you care, you’ll put the children first.   That’s what this is all about.

 

KATE and DIANE exit

 

Scene Two

LAURA enters and places a box of wine glasses on the table.  She pulls a chair out and sits on it. She lifts her handbag out of the box and searches for her mobile telephone.  She dials.

 

LAURA

Hi Mike, it’s me.  I’ll be back just after one, I guess.  How are the boys?  (stretches and yawns) Good.  Oh, as was expected, bloody nightmare.  You know what mum’s like, hates fuss.  It had to be done though, I’d have felt guilty if I didn’t make an effort, today of all days.   But we’ve lost some of the deposit, a few glasses are chipped, well, sort of …chipped…all over….  I’ll tell you tomorrow, but she’s really done it this time. Yes, I will.  Don’t worry about waiting up. Okay, bye.

 

DIANE enters barefoot wearing a robe

 

DIANE

All set to go, Laura?

 

LAURA

More or less.  I could have stopped overnight, you know.

 

DIANE

(bemused) Whatever for?

 

 

LAURA

Retiring is a big step. I thought tonight may be difficult for you…on your own, I mean. It’s the end of a big part of your life.

 

DIANE

(laughs scornfully) Oh, Laura! Stop regurgitating rubbish you’ve read in your magazines. You’ve been doing it all evening. Stop saying what you think you ought to.  I don’t need you to pretend you really care.

 

LAURA

Why can’t you be gracious just for once and let somebody do something for you.

 

DIANE

I’m not an invalid, I don’t need things doing for me!   You seem so determined to patronise me, Laura. 

 

LAURA

You made it blatantly obvious tonight was a huge imposition. Would it have been so hard to be nice?

 

DIANE

You didn’t do anything for me tonight, you did it all for you. Did you feel it was your duty, some obligation you had?  You hated it as much as me.

 

LAURA

I don’t know why I’m still here (gets up from the chair) I don’t know why I put myself through this.

 

DIANE

I do Laura, so you can feel hard done to.  So you can go home and tell Mike what a long-suffering daughter you are to your ungrateful mother. How ‘nothing ever changes’ and despite your very best efforts I still remain a heartless old cow.  I told you I didn’t want a party, I didn’t want a fuss.  I wanted to come home, have a bottle of wine to myself, watch a crap film and wind-down.   This was all so pointless.

 

LAURA

So, my best intentions are pointless are they?

 

DIANE

Grow up Laura, you’re acting like a spoiled child again.

 

LAURA

You’re the self-centred one.  You could have said how much you really objected, weeks ago.

 

DIANE

I told you every time you mentioned it that I didn’t want a party!  I’ve never been into parties and grand gestures – you know all this.  Laura, it was a disaster, I can’t pretend I enjoyed all that fawning from vague relatives and so-called friends who can barely remember to send a Christmas card once a year.

 

LAURA

I’m not arguing with you, I’m too tired. (picks the box up and pauses) I just wish we could have been like a normal family.  But it was never going to happen, was it?  We never stood a chance. You never tried, that’s why dad…(shakes her head) Oh, why go through all that again!  I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry I tried to give you a good time – to make you try and enjoy yourself for once! (exits)

 

DIANE sits in the same chair LAURA had used and wearily leans her head backwards.  The lights dim and a spotlight illuminates a small area to the other side of the stage. 

 

JOSIE

(offstage) Di! Wait for me, hold your horses!

 

DI runs onto stage and pauses, turning around under the spotlight.

 

DI

I don’t want to talk about it!

 

JOSIE

(joins Di under the spotlight and grasps her arm roughly)   But it’s important, I thought you’d be happy for me!

 

DI

But what about me? I’m going to be the only one left!

 

JOSIE

Don’t be silly, I’m sure I heard the Housemother say Mr and Mrs Dunn were keen on you.  You’re seeing them again tomorrow aren’t you?

 

DI

(sinks to her knees, dejectedly, on the ground) They really wanted Susan Brightmore, until her aunt turned up and then they were visiting with Marion Macauley but changed their mind when they found out her dad wasn’t dead, but ‘detained’.  They don’t really want me!

 

JOSIE

(joins her, kneeling on the ground) Don’t cry, I hate it when you get all…all dreary and sad (struggles for something to say) I mean, at least you’re not like Barbara, she’s got freckles and nobody wants a girl with horrible freckles!

 

DI

I hate Barbara anyway, she was the one who told the whole dining room I wrote to…to…

 

JOSIE

Doris Day! (laughs) It was funny though, Di!

 

 

DI

(slaps her arm)

But she’s so lovely, I want a mum like that!  One that’s happy all the time and smiles like she means it, a mum who you know will always love you and stick up for you…

 

JOSIE

(still laughing) …and sings to you!!

 

DI

Why not Josie, singing has to be better than shouting…and, and dancing has to be better than punching and kicking!  I think its lovely…I really wanted her to read my letter and want to be my mum!

 

JOSIE

(quietly) Can you really remember all that?  You were five when you came here, just like me.  Can you still remember all that?

 

DI

(ignores the question) I don’t know why we have to leave here anyway.  Everybody likes it, there’s the farm and, and the train trip every Summer.  Pocket money on Saturdays!

 

JOSIE

The housemother told us what they’d said, Di.  They’re trying to get everyone back with a family, fostering they called it, didn’t they?  They said it would be much better for us than a big home like this.  Just think of it, no more having to squeeze into a bath with three others, fresh clothes every day instead of twice a week.  No more stewed rhubarb!

 

DI

Well, I suppose I shouldn’t miss having to clean the church brass just because I yawn during grace.

 

JOSIE

And no more being separated from boys during the week.  Mr and Mrs Dunn might even have a son!

 

DI

And perhaps they’d shout ‘Di, dinner’s ready’ instead of ringing a bell, and they’d cook it just for me, well, and the rest of the people, I mean.

 

JOSIE

Not people, Di, family.  You’ll have a proper family.

 

DI

Family.

 

JOSIE

People who will love you just as much as I do.

 

DI

I don’t think I could love anybody as much as you, though!

 

DI and JOSIE giggle and hug each other

 

JOSIE

See, it’ll be wonderful having a mum and dad again.

 

DI

(lets go of JOSIE) But Josie, I had a mum and dad once. And they didn’t like me. How do I know my new mum and dad won’t decide one day they don’t like me anymore. (stands up) No. You’re my family, everyone here is, you’ve never left me or … I don’t want another family! (exits, running)

 

JOSIE

But Di, you don’t have any choice! (follows her off stage)

 

The spotlight fades with the focus back on DIANE sitting at the table. LAURA enters with her handbag on her shoulder, car keys in hand.

 

LAURA

(calmer) Everything’s in the car, I’ll make my way home now. (waits for a response) I’ll leave you to it then.

 

DIANE

You don’t think I’m really going do you?

 

LAURA

I should think my reaction spoke for itself, I did drop a tray of wine glasses, remember?

 

DIANE

Did you think I said it for effect?

 

LAURA

Of course you did, but that doesn’t mean you don’t intend to go through with it.  I think you enjoyed shocking us all like that, despite your remonstrations just now about grand gestures and fuss.

 

DIANE

This is my fifth house in twelve years, Laura.  Doesn’t that tell you something?  I can’t settle, I’m never satisfied.

 

LAURA

You still haven’t said if there’s anyone else involved.   If you’re going with someone.

 

DIANE

No, I haven’t, have I.

 

 

LAURA

Are you?

 

DIANE

Yes, I am.  But it’s not how you think.

 

LAURA

Since when have you cared what I think?

 

DIANE

Since when have you cared about my happiness, any love-life I may have?

 

LAURA

(laughs)

Love-life!  You don’t know the meaning of the word ‘love’ and the only life you have – or should I say ‘had’ now – was inside institutions surrounded by kids!  I don’t know how you ever did it, you hated us, why surround yourself day in day out with kids?

 

DIANE

Don’t you dare talk about something so disdainfully when you know nothing about it.  My childhood…(falters)…my childhood was the most …(clasps her hand over her mouth)

 

LAURA

(hesitates)  I didn’t mean the orphanage, I meant the school – when I said institution I meant schools.

 

DIANE

(collects herself)   I’m going on Monday.

 

LAURA

And when will you be back?

 

DIANE

This is more than a holiday, Laura.

 

LAURA

So, you’re not coming back?

 

DIANE

(distractedly) Back?  That word assumes I have roots somewhere, someplace to return to, to take up my life again in familiar surroundings, familiar people who would miss me.

 

LAURA

Of course you have roots – here (throws her arms up) this is your home, isn’t it?

 

 

 

DIANE

It’s a house where I eat and sleep and have a few essentials to make my life as comfortable as it ever will be.

 

LAURA

My God, you never talk about the orphanage, but its there all the time isn’t it?  We could have had a completely different relationship if you would have talked to me about it.   There was a time when I really wanted to understand.

 

DIANE

Do you still want to try and understand, Laura?

 

LAURA

(taken aback, replies distrustingly) Maybe.  I don’t know, maybe it’s too late. I don’t know if I care anymore.

 

DIANE

You see, the thing is you do.  You really do, else why would you be so upset with me.

 

LAURA

You play with my emotions, you…you continually push me away, but…but you’re my mother… and there’s always that look in your eye that challenges me.  Dares me to leave you alone…and I never dare.  I can’t let you go until I know why you’ve never loved me like you should have, what did I do wrong?

 

DIANE

I once read a book in which it said that the mother is the dead heart of the family.  That line has haunted me for over thirty years, because it’s true, it’s me.  The dead heart of the family, right at the centre of something I helped to create and am completely powerless over.  A position which I never truly wanted but will inhabit until the day I die.

 

LAURA

Tell me about the orphanage, tell me what happened.  I have imagined the most horrible things, the truth can’t be any worse.

 

DIANE

And that’s the irony, they were the happiest days I ever had.  And going away will make me happy again, I know it will.

 

LAURA

(shocked) Happiest? (tentatively) Go on…

 

DIANE

(addresses empty space rather than Laura, in a kind of reverie) By the time the orphanage finally closed I was in my third foster home.  I was thirteen, Laura.  Do you remember being thirteen?  I had so many questions to ask, personal, private things that I needed to ask someone about, but there wasn’t anybody I trusted enough to talk intimately to.

 

LAURA

I was thirteen when you threw my dad out. I didn’t want to talk to you at all.

 

DIANE

(appears jolted back to the present) You know why your father left.

 

LAURA

Because he couldn’t live with you anymore, he couldn’t understand you.  So he left you, but we couldn’t.

 

DIANE

You know nothing about our marriage, our relationship. Your father left me because he found someone else.

 

LAURA

He wouldn’t have looked for anyone else if he’d have been happy with you!

 

DIANE

Why are you so keen to blame me.  I’m not the one who had the affair.  Your father left me and he left you and he left Luke.  I put you through college and university, both of you.  I made sure you had somewhere to come back to.  I worked hard to make sure this all happened.

 

LAURA

And you’ve never let us forget it either. 

 

DIANE

What exactly do you want me to apologise for, Laura?  For making you independent, giving you opportunities? Have you decided you don’t want to know about me now?

 

LAURA

Yes, I do want to know because you were always thinking about it, it was always in the way…everyone and everything that wasn’t associated with it didn’t feature in your life…you’ve always lived, in your head, in some murky, dark remembrance of the past!

 

DIANE gets up from her chair and walks into the spotlight as it illuminates the side of the stage, the lights dim on LAURA, but she is still visible. She sits down at the table.

 

DIANE

There was nothing dark or murky about my years at the orphanage, it was the first and last time I felt safe.  Surrounded by children who were just like me, without parents, or with parents who couldn’t care for them.  Dead parents or alcoholic, abusive parents, it was all the same.  You blame the orphanage for everything that has gone wrong with your life, Laura, out of ignorance.  It was the only place that was ever a home to me, where I felt love and warmth and companionship.

 

JOSIE and DI run onto the stage and are semi-lit by the spotlight around DIANE.  They have playing cards and are playing ‘snap’.

 

DIANE

(speaks warmly with great affection) There were thirty girls in my dormitory.  Can you imagine that, sharing a room with so many other girls with their sleepwalking and chattering – when they were asleep and when they weren’t. Witnessing all their funny little sleeping rituals, the ones who wouldn’t sleep without their smelly, chewed teddy bears, or frayed blankets.  The ones who pretended to clean their teeth and the ones who spent a dedicated ten minutes scrubbing their gums away. The funny thing is, we were all unwanted, technically. I mean, that’s why we were there. But we never felt like that when we were all together and we were certainly never reminded of the fact or taunted with it. (pauses) Josie was my best friend.  We came to the orphanage the same week, both five years old.  I have clear memories of us sitting together outside the housemother’s room, looking each other up and down, offering that first tentative smile.  We were inseparable from that first day.  As we got older we’d go into the town together on a Saturday and buy penny sweets, or go to the cinema and spy on the couples kissing on the back row.   The orphanage was owned and run by the church and there was a farm attached to provide pretty much everything for us. Our favourite chore on the farm was collecting the eggs from the chickens, but we didn’t even mind cleaning out the pig-pen, as long as we did it together.  Josie’s favourite pudding was rice pudding with sultanas, we had that during the winter, we used to count the sultanas to see who had the most.  When she was fostered I was desolate, her new parents lived right the other side of the city and didn’t want us to keep in touch.  I don’t think I ever cried as much again, as when she left.  My third set of foster parents lived in the same road as Josie’s foster parents, I was so excited, but then found out that they’d moved on.  I hurt so much because I thought Josie had forgotten about me, I almost began to hate her.   We had been through so much, grown up together at the orphanage and I felt abandoned for the very first time. It was another twenty years before I found out what really happened.

 

JOSIE

‘Snap’! Di, you’re not quick enough, you don’t want me to let you win do you?

 

DI

I sometimes let you win at draughts! 

 

JOSIE

No you don’t!

 

DI

And the sack race last Summer

 

JOSIE

No, you sprained your ankle and fell over – I would still have won anyway.  I’m much better at running.

 

DI

Can we play together when we’re both fostered?

 

 

 

 

JOSIE

(sadly) My new mum and dad don’t live near yours, we’re almost in the next city, he says.  I don’t think we’ll be able to play together anymore. But we can swap addresses and who knows what will happen?

 

DI

But we’re sisters, aren’t we?  We said we could be sisters for ever and ever!

 

JOSIE

We will always be sisters, silly (hugs DI) and when we grow up they won’t be able to stop us from seeing each other.  We can still be bridesmaids at each others’ wedding and go for walks in the park together with our babies.  Just like we’ve always said.  (a bell rings off stage)  Come on, dinner time it’s sultanas and rice pudding today!

 

JOSIE and DIANE run off stage

 

DIANE

Josie only ever had the one set of foster parents.  They were very happy with her, (darkly) her new father was particularly pleased with her.  Too pleased.  Josie never had any babies, she never got married.  We never strolled in the park, side by side with our prams and our beautiful babies inside.  She was dead within two years of leaving the orphanage.  She couldn’t live with what was being done to her by her generous, shiny new ‘dad’.  And it took me twenty years to find out. Twenty years of thinking she’d forgotten me.  And we had been so much to each other.  More than friends, more than sisters, I never got over losing her. And I felt guilty because I should have known, I should have realised, felt something.

 

LAURA

Come and sit back down. You look so tired.

 

The spotlight fades as DIANE returns to the table and sits down opposite LAURA.

 

DIANE

I had a second chance when the orphanage took me in when I was five.  I learnt so much, experienced so much.  I felt that we were the luckiest people in the world.  Then it was taken away from us, we were all fostered eventually.  Some happily and others…

 

LAURA

But this was all so long ago.  I feel like you were hanging onto it just to spite us, you let us believe it was awful for you.

 

DIANE

I didn’t encourage you to believe anything.  It was when they integrated us all back into ‘society’ when it all went wrong. I learnt not to have any expectations when I was moved from the orphanage, never to hope for anything again, never to become attached to anything again.   I went through the motions, courtship, marriage, babies.  Just like Josie and I dreamt about.  I thought because we’d shared that same dream it would all be okay. I married the first man that showed any interest in me.

 

LAURA

I still don’t understand…surely after the years passed you could have put this behind you and…

 

DIANE

How could I put it behind me, it was me.  It was who I was – am.  I learnt to live with it and that was the best I could do.  I admit that I thought, after a few months of marriage, things would change.  Your father thought that too, he was patient and tried to understand.  But eventually he gave up.  I can’t blame him, Laura.  Not really.  But he was wrong to lose touch with you and your brother.   I can’t excuse him for that.

 

LAURA

We’ll never agree about dad.

 

DIANE

No.

 

LAURA

I still don’t understand why going away will make things better.

 

DIANE

Go away from what exactly?  I’m free now, I’m retired.  I have nothing tying me here.

 

LAURA

What about me?

 

DIANE

Laura, you’re married and have your own life, you’ve not needed me for years. Let’s face it, we’ve never gotten on, never really liked one another.  Why do you insist on trying to make me feel guilty.

 

LAURA

I’d be happy to see you feel anything where I’m concerned apart from indifference and, sometimes, yes, I think it’s disgust. Didn’t we ever make you happy?

 

DIANE

For a short time the thought of children made me happy.   And then I had twins and it was too much.   I thought as soon as I looked at you both I’d have this instant rush of emotion, of maternal love and pride, but…but it didn’t happen.  It never did and I tormented myself with it for years. Post-natal depression was something to be ashamed of and hidden in those days.  I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t know how to.  I felt weak and incomplete. I won’t lie to you Laura, I can’t say the words that you want to hear because I just don’t feel it.  I know you think I’m selfish, but do you really want me to lie to you, would that, finally, make you happy? 

 

LAURA

Yes, it would have done, a while ago.  Just to hear you say you loved me.  It would have made such a difference.

 

 

DIANE

Laura, it wouldn’t.  You wouldn’t have believed me and would have felt so much worse.  I can only say I’m sorry and you must believe me when I say that it has hurt me as much, if not more, than you.  I didn’t want my life to be like this and to see how it has affected you. 

 

LAURA

So, it comes to this, you’re sorry.

 

DIANE

I’m glad you graduated and have a good career, I’m relieved that in spite of me, you have been successful.  I am going away.  I can’t be the mother you want me to be. This is something I really must do.  Please, finally understand that.

 

The light completely fades on the stage. The spotlight on the other side illuminates DI and JOSIE lying flat on a rug, head to head gazing at the stars.

 

JOSIE

Do you think there is anybody up there looking down on us?

 

DI

Like in an aeroplane, or a spaceship, or the man on the moon?

 

JOSIE

No, like spirits, or God.

 

DI

Reverend Taylor says that God lives in Heaven and I suppose Heaven is up there, so he thinks so.

 

JOSIE

But do you really believe that?

 

DI

I don’t know.

 

JOSIE

Do you think that dead people go to Heaven?

 

DI

If they’ve been good while they’re down here, I suppose so.

 

JOSIE

But nobody’s good all the time.  I heard the Housemother say once that Barbara Jones was a ‘right little bugger’.  Do you go to Hell if you blaspheme?

 

DI

I wouldn’t have thought so, it’d be full of every teacher here, if you did!

 

 

JOSIE

What are the rules then?  Don’t we need to know the rules, to make sure we don’t blaspheme too much so we go to Hell?

 

DI

I think its okay if you say you’re sorry at church on a Sunday and pray for forgiveness.  That’s how it must work. And put something in the collection tin.  Apart from bottle tops!

 

JOSIE

But if God forgives everyone, why do some people go to Hell?

 

DI

Perhaps some people don’t ask hard enough. Perhaps some people are too bad and can’t be forgiven.  I don’t know, Josie.

 

JOSIE

I want to live to be one hundred, shall we both live to be one hundred?

 

DI

If you like.  It’s a long time though.

 

JOSIE

We’ve got lots to do!  After we’ve got married and had babies and our babies have grown up, we can travel the world, Di.   We can go to all the places they tell us about in class and see all the movie stars in your magazines.  We can be punted along the canals in Venice and drink tea in China, we can ride wild horses in Australia and sleep in tents in Egypt, looking out at the stars, just like we are now.

 

DI

Do you think we’ll know the rules by then, Josie.  Will we know it all?

 

JOSIE

Of course we will, Di. We’ll know everything.

 

The spotlight fades to black

   

   ENDS

 

 

Copyright © 2005 Amanda L Bellamy
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"