ACT ONE
A quiet, dimly lit pub in the North of England. Dark shades, everything mahogany and maroon, patterned stools and beer mats.
JOHN and SAM sit either side of a cornered table in the back.
BOTH have a full pint of lager before them. On the table also is an open packet of dry roasted nuts.
Moments pass whilst nothing is said.
SAM lifts his pint, takes a swig and makes to begin conversation.
SAM: I heard what’s-his-name ended up missing his own stag. His passport was too tatty, apparently.
JOHN: [JOHN puts his pint to his mouth and widens his eyes.] I slept with Hannah.
[He takes a swig of his drink and places it back on the table, casually taking some nuts from an open packet. SAM looks at JOHN, confused.]
SAM: John, are you joking?
JOHN: [Lifting his pint to drink.] No. I slept…
SAM: [Interrupting. Angry, sitting up.] John, I think you should explain exactly what you’re inferring.
JOHN: Well, I slept with your wife. [JOHN takes another sip.] In a dream.
SAM: [Relaxing.] In a dream? Right. Ok, Ok. [Pause.] Why are you telling me this, John?
[JOHN finishes chewing his nut, considers something, takes another sip.]
JOHN: Of hers.
[JOHN checks the length of his nails. SAM quizzically inspects JOHN.]
SAM: Wait. Let me get this. [Pause. Accusingly.] You slept with Hannah. [Beat. Confused.] In a dream. [Beat. More confused.] Of hers?
JOHN: Yes. Essentially, yes.
SAM: [Angry, sarcastic.] Essentially? What unessential details have I missed?
JOHN: Not a dream. It’s been going on a while.
[SAM, aghast, looks at JOHN. JOHN casually drinks his pint and continues to help himself to the nuts. SAM settles back down, takes a swig of his own drink and thinks.]
SAM: I don’t know how to exactly deal with what you’re saying here, John.
JOHN: How’d you think I feel? [Beat.] I’m the one sleeping with her.
SAM: Good point.
JOHN: Every night!
SAM: [Fingering his temples.] Jesus, John.
JOHN: Sometimes more than once. [Beat.] Most times. [Sipping his pint.] Insatiable woman.
SAM: [Whistling.] How’s Jayne taking it?
JOHN: How’d you expect? You know how jealous she is of other women.
SAM: True. [BOTH finish their pints, SAM stands] Another?
JOHN: Indeed.
[SAM goes to the bar off stage. He returns momentarily with two fresh pints of lager, places one in front of JOHN and sits back down.]
SAM: You’re sleeping with my wife.
JOHN: [Nodding.] Mmm.
SAM: Yeah, it just kind of. [Pause.] Yeah. [Pause.] That’s a real corker, I mean.
JOHN: [Interrupting.] Hey, Sam, you know if I could help it.
SAM: Oh no, John, John. I understand. [SAM takes a sip of his drink.] Though… could you not have… well… not have?
JOHN: Out of my control, Sammy Boy. Can’t help it. [Sipping his lager.] Nothing to be done.
SAM: Has it stopped now?
JOHN: Are you kidding? Christ, if only. Insatiable, as I say.
SAM: But, you couldn’t just… not?
JOHN: No can do.
SAM: Not even…
JOHN: [Interrupting.] Literally. I can’t stop it. [Taking a swig.] I mean [Pause.] I’m not even there, you know? It’s an impossible situation for me. [Pause.] Believe me, if I could.
SAM: You’re right, you’re right. [Pause.] Still.
[BOTH sit in silence, concentrating on their drinks.]
SAM: She, er?
JOHN: Relentlessly. [Beat.] Like she lives on ‘em.
SAM: And she let’s you…
JOHN: [Interrupting.] There isn’t one I haven’t been.
SAM: [Interrupting.] In a way I blame myself.
JOHN: You shouldn’t.
SAM: I know, but I do. I can’t help it.
JOHN: You’re probably right.
[SAM looks at JOHN who just swigs his pint.]
JOHN: Oh! [Excited.] Did I tell you about Rodger and that hooker in Glasgow?
SAM: John, not to be funny mate but I still can’t quite get my head around this whole sleeping with my wife issue. [Pause.] I don’t mean to be a stickler but… [SAM swigs from his pint.]
JOHN: Hey look. It’s not the end of the world. I understand your [beat] hesitation, whatever – to move off the subject, but really mate [Pause. JOHN swigs from his pint.] It’s nothing to do with me.
SAM: But you’re the one she’s having an affair with?
JOHN: Yes, but [beat] you know… [JOHN gestures with his hands like holding a hot potato.]
SAM: It’s just some things are still playing on my mind.
JOHN: Of course, sorry. Look, I really think we should move off the topic but to ease your mind [JOHN pats SAM on the shoulder twice.] Any questions: ask away!
SAM: How long has it actually been going on?
JOHN: Months. Probably since [Pause.] September.
SAM: It’s the second of October.
JOHN: September last year.
SAM: That’s years!
JOHN: Technically only one, really. Not plural.
SAM: Who started it?
JOHN: Her. Definitely her.
SAM: Why?
JOHN: Hey Sammy Boy. Come on now. That’s none of my business. You need to talk to Hannah, you know [beat] about her affairs.
SAM: [Angrily before sipping from his pint.] Oh I will.
JOHN: Well that’s settled. And good. I’m glad to see a couple ready to engage in dialogue. Too many couples these days run off the handle with conspiracy theories before they have all the facts and before they engage each other in meaningful, well-thought dialogue.
[SAM stares down at the table, his chest heaving as he thinks hard. JOHN picks a nut from the packet and consults it thoroughly before placing it in the ashtray.]
JOHN: So Rodger. He’s in Glasgow and him and Dave and Mark and Ben, they’ve all been out on the booze and Rodger decides he’s going to go right ahead and get a Hooker! So off Rodger goes to find…
SAM: [Interrupting.] You’re having an affair with my wife.
JOHN: It’s her affair, Sam. If it were up to me…well, you know, I would, I don’t want to bad mouth your wife — she’s a sexy woman, but I wouldn’t… you know… whilst you were still together.
[JOHN sips his pint and his eyes wander around the pub.]
SAM: What am I going to say to her?
JOHN: [Exclaiming.] Dialogue, Sam! You’re already half there, I mean accepting you need to talk. [Pause. Consults his watch.] The women’ll be along in a minute anyhow.
[SAM looks at his watch, his face winces up. He takes a final swig from the glass.]
SAM: Your round.
JOHN: [Finishing his pint.] Indeed. [JOHN stands.] I ought to get theirs in too. What’s Hannah have?
SAM: [To the table.] I would have thought you would know.
JOHN: Now come on, Sam. There’s no need to be like that.
SAM: [Looking at JOHN.] Sorry, sorry. It’s all a bit.
JOHN: I know. Look I’ll get these in and tell you about Rodge before they get here. It’ll cheer you up [Chuckling to himself] punching the pimp’s my favourite bit.
[JOHN walks off stage laughing. SAM runs his finger around the top of his empty pint glass. The lights dim.]
CURTAIN
*
ACT TWO
Moments later. Same pub. Same table.
Alone, nudging his still empty pint glass sits SAM.
From right enters HANNAH and JAYNE. Dressed in gym gear, sweaters and tracksuit bottoms, they are all laughs.
SAM looks up to them and the two women sit down, JAYNE on SAM’s left and HANNAH to his right, where JOHN was previously sat.
JAYNE: Hey Sam, John at the bar?
[HANNAH leans to SAM to kiss him on the cheek.]
SAM: Hmmf. All kisses today are we?
HANNAH: Oooh, is someone grumpy today.
SAM: I wouldn’t say ‘grumpy’, more pissed off with my cheating whore of a wife.
[HANNAH pulls back from SAM in shock. JAYNE grimaces. JOHN arrives at the table from left, awkwardly carrying two pints and two gin and tonics.]
JOHN: Evening ladies. Gin and tonic for the darling wife. [JOHN leans down to kiss JAYNE.] The same for you Hannah. And a pint for Mr Sam here. [He places down the other drinks and finally notices the shock on the faces of his three friends.] Well who farted here then?
JAYNE: John, did you tell Sam about Hannah’s affair?
JOHN: Yes. I thought we agreed it was the best idea.
JAYNE: It was darling, it’s ok, I thought as much.
HANNAH: [Turning to SAM, leaning up to him.] Is that why you called me a cheating whore of a wife?
SAM: ‘Is that why I called you a cheating whore of a wife?’ Is that why? Of course it’s fucking why. What else reason do I bloody well need?
JOHN: Dialogue, Sam. Remember dia…
SAM: Shut up, John.
JAYNE: Don’t tell John to shut up, Sam. It’s not John’s fault.
HANNAH: Darling, is that all. I thought it was something else.
SAM: Is that fucking all? [To JAYNE.] Your husband’s having an affair with my fucking wife, does that bother you, Jayne?
JAYNE: What tone! [To JOHN.] Did you explain it to him fully?
HANNAH: Darling, it’s just sex. You know like a fantasy. I love you; you know that.
JOHN: I thought I had.
SAM: Just sex… fantasy. Whatever you call it: you’re whoring yourself to my best friend.
JOHN: Hey, come now. Less of the whoring, but thanks for the heads up on the best friend accolade Sammy Boy, appreciate it! [SAM breaks his stare on HANNAH to sneer at JOHN.] But lets all calm down now, lets get some dialogue going.
SAM: If he says dialogue one more time.
HANNAH: I love you, Sam. I’ve only ever loved you. The thing with John is just… it’s like a hobby, something to do with yourself in the garden shed. Like you have your trains.
SAM: A fucking hobby! My trains! I knew it would be about those trains, you said you didn’t mind.
HANNAH: I don’t. I think you look cute in your stationmaster’s hat. But you must understand, I need a hobby too?
JOHN: Good dialogue, guys.
SAM: [Dismissing JOHN with a sneer.] Shagging John is not a fucking hobby!
[JAYNE cuddles up to JOHN. JOHN smiles.]
HANNAH: I don’t actually shag John; it’s just a dream.
JOHN: Have you enough lemon in that, darling.
SAM: That’s what he said. But your still thinking of shagging him, it’s just as bad.
JAYNE: That’s what I thought, Sam darling. But really, if you think about it… it’s not nearly as bad. A hobby, like Hannah says.
SAM: Enough of calling it a fucking hobby.
JOHN: Keep with the dialogue, Sammy boy. We’re getting there.
SAM: We are getting fucking nowhere.
HANNAH: Look darling. Can’t you see you’re blowing this out of proportion?
SAM: Not really, no. I can’t see that.
HANNAH: Oh come on Sam. Let’s leave it. You have to trust me. Why don’t we go home and have an early night.
JOHN: [To JAYNE.] Sounds like a good plan to me.
JAYNE: I’ve got a little surprise for you: I went shopping today.
SAM: I’m not going anywhere. I’m having a bloody drink.
HANNAH: Well I’m not sitting here arguing with you anymore over this silly misunderstanding. [She downs her drink and stands.]
SAM: Yeah? Well I’m sure you can go home to the garden shed and continue your little fucking hobby with John.
HANNAH: If you’re going to be like that: I just might.
[JOHN shrugs.]
SAM: Hurry along then. I’m sure you have all sorts of fun planned.
[Everyone but SAM stands.]
SAM: See; off with the little whore are we friend?
JOHN: Getting us another drink actually. [To JAYNE.] Would you like one, darling?
JAYNE: Go on then… don’t forget you have a present waiting at home. [To HANNAH.] Are you ok getting back?
SAM: She’ll be fine.
HANNAH: I’ll be fine.
[HANNAH exits left. JOHN exits right. JAYNE sits back down. SAM downs the remainder of his pint and looks at JAYNE.]
SAM: I don’t know how you put up with it, sneaking off like this.
JAYNE: John’s gone to get us drinks. Hannah’s gone home. John will be back as long as it takes the barman and what Hannah does in her own thoughts is her business.
SAM: But she’s having an affair!
JAYNE: It’s a meaningless fantasy. She loves you: believe me. She talked of nothing but you all the way through pilates tonight.
SAM: I wouldn’t be surprised if John’s broke a sweat when if he does come back, probably a quickie in the toilet, fucking disgusting, the guile.
JAYNE: Sam, stop being so silly.
[JOHN enters from right, with three new drinks. He sits down and kisses JAYNE on the cheek. SAM inspects him suspiciously.]
SAM: Bit too obvious to sneak off now, eh John?
JAYNE: Sam’s insisting on being silly.
JOHN: Sam, my good man, how do I make this clear. I have and will never actually sleep with your wife.
SAM: So she just imagines it right? She could be in the car now, imagining it?
JOHN: I suppose so; it might be dangerous, in the car and all, but yes… [He takes a slow sip of his pint.] for all we know I’m hilt deep in her right now.
CURTAIN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Glenn Fisher was born in Grimsby, in a county that no longer exists, in 1981. After working in local government since leaving college in 1997, he took very early retirement in 2004. He is currently studying on the Professional Writing degree course at the Grimsby Institute.
