Kindness of Strangers

SCENE SEVENTEEN

Cliff’s House. Kitchen.

CHERYL and JIMMY at the table. Meal finished. Two empty bottles of wine on the table. CHERYL is clutching the third bottle as well as her glass. She’s very drunk. JIMMY’s quietly amused throughout.

CHERYL: but we’re meant to be a talkative people, aren’t we? Us Irish. We are. It’s in our genes or something. We’re famed for it. The world over. Yakety-yak. We love the crack. Ah, we do, we do, we do. Go on, go on , go on. Would yer just listen to us talk our lives away. Why, we live for the crack. It’s better than food. Sit down love, join in the crack. Hello there, fella, join the group why don’t yer? Tell us yer life story. (Drinks.) And where I come from, how yer talk is who yer are. Ah, Brendan Flaherty, now he’s a lovely fella, what a way with words he has. And it’s all bollocks, ‘cause Brendan Flaherty’s a lying, cheating little gobshite. He is. And would yer just listen to him playing up the lilt whenever there’s an English girl nearby. Like some feckin’ eejit in some stupid Hollywood film. I swear to Jesus he said top o’ the mornin’ once. (Drinks.) He likes the English girls does Brendan Flaherty. And d’yer want to know why? Shall I’ll tell yer why? I’ll tell yer why. But keep this under yer hat. Yer might not know this, but English girls are sluts. That’s right. Out and out sluts. All of them. Just mad for the sex they are. This is what Brendan thinks ‘cause this is the pearl of wisdom passed down to Brendan by his great feckin’ red-nosed loon of a Da. English girls are sluts and Irish girls are all apprentice nuns. She drinks, tops up her glass.

CHERYL: This is exceptionally good wine. Isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it though? Where was I? Oh yeah, talking. I was never one for the talking. I don’t trust talky people with their gobs running away with them and their brains always struggling to catch up this endless torrent of meaningless words this this this this this relentless stream of utter shite and I come to Liverpool and I’m thinking, great, a change from Dublin and it’s worse! They never shut up. It’s like it’s like they’re so desperate to be Irish they’re trying to outdo us or something. And everyone, I’m telling yer, everyone in this city is a feckin’ comedian. This fella, this fella down at the college, he took to calling me Marcel because I was so quiet. Yer know, Marcel Marceau. Oh, how he laughed at that one. (Scouse accent:) All right, Marcel. How’s it goin’ Marcel? Been stuck in any glass boxes lately, Marcel? Prick.

She drinks, tops up her glass.

CHERYL: Where was I? Oh yeah, the talking. I’ve no time for it. And d’yer want to know why I’ve no time for it? Shall I tell yer why? I’ll tell yer why. (Pause.) ‘Cause it’s corrupt. (Pause.) Language. It’s rotten. It is. It’s the natural medium of the liar. Words were invented to hide things. Not explain them. (Drinks.) I can’t abide liars. Shape-shifting bastards. I’d like to take every liar in the whole wide world, every last one of them, and tie them all together by their rotten, thieving tongues and and and thieves is what they are stealing yer love stealing yer life picking the pockets of yer soul just robbing yer of every last selfish fuckers.

(Pause. She helps herself to some more wine only the bottle’s empty.)

Ah now that’s a sight to bring a tear to yer eye.

Pause.

JIMMY: This Brendan fella he really hurt you.

CHERYL: What?! Brendan? Brendan Flaherty? I’m not talking about that longwinded, spotty little gobshite. (Long pause.) I was talkin’ about me Ma. (Pause.) Me gran used to say that some women are just a bruise waiting to happen. Emotionally. Yer know what I mean? (Pause.) She never had much luck with (ah fuck it.)

Long pause.

JIMMY: Cliff told me your mum

CHERYL: Died. Yeah. C’est la vie. (Long pause.) I wonder what’s keeping him.

JIMMY: He’s probably got a run in his nylons.

CHERYL: Yeah. He’s a funny little fella. (Pause.) I thought he was a nosey old hen at first but he’s sweet, isn’t he? Isn’t he though? That rare thing a decent human being. They should stick him in a museum or something. (Long pause.) So, Mister Quiet Man what brought you to Liverpool? (Pause.) So much for the chirpy cockney.

JIMMY: I followed a girl up here. Woman.

CHERYL: Is that it? That’s not much of a story there fella. There’d be no free Guinness for you where I come from.

JIMMY: There’s not much to tell. It didn’t work out.

CHERYL: Why?

JIMMY: She wasn’t who I thought she was.

CHERYL: And who did yer think she was?

JIMMY: I forget.

Pause.

CHERYL: But yer stayed here anyway.

JIMMY: I like the place.

CHERYL: Yer do?

JIMMY: Yeah. The people are straight with you. Most of them.

Long pause. CHERYL looks at JIMMY’s face closely.

JIMMY: What?

CHERYL: I just noticed haven’t yer got lovely long eyelashes?

Pause.

CLIFF: (Off.) Almost ready.

CHERYL tries to make a whistling sound by running her wet finger round the rim of the glass

JIMMY: So how’s this gap year working out for you?

CHERYL: (Bristly.) It’s working out just grand. Thanks for asking.

Pause.

JIMMY: You know, it’s none of my business

CHERYL: That’s right. Little pause. JIMMY: I just thought CHERYL: What? Yer’d be playing the good Samaritan? JIMMY: Not exactly.

CHERYL: Yer’d be coming round here to dish out a little charity. Trying to make yerself feel better? Is that it?

JIMMY: No.

CHERYL: So what is it then? What are yer after?

JIMMY: I’m not after anything.

CHERYL: Don’t lie. Everyone’s after something. I might be drunk but I’m not stupid.

JIMMY: No one said you were stupid.

CHERYL: Good. Otherwise I’d be asking yer to step outside. What are yer laughing at? I could take yer in a fight and no mistake. I might be small but I’m wary.

JIMMY: Wiry.

CHERYL: Yeah! So watch it. You just watch it. She points a threatening finger at him then, suddenly, she passes out, her head resting on the table, but still holding the bottle and glass.

JIMMY takes the bottle and glass from her, puts them on the table. Off stage, CLIFF makes the noise of a drum roll. Then hums the bass intro to Wilkommen from Cabaret.

CLIFF: (Off, singing.) Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome, Fremde, Etranger, Stranger. A stockinged-leg appears

CLIFF: (Off, singing.) Glucklich zu sehen, Je suis enchante, Happy to see you, Bliebe, Reste, Stay. Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome, Im Cabaret, Au Cabaret, To Cabaret!

CLIFF enters, in drag, sans make-up. He, too, is very drunk.

CLIFF: Mein damen und herren, mesdames et monsieurs, comment ça va? Do you feel good? I am your host! Leave your troubles outside! So life is disappointing? Forget it! In here life is beautiful! The girls are beauti - What’s up with Cheryl?

JIMMY: She talked herself into a coma.

CLIFF: But I haven’t done my Vivien Leigh yet. Balls! I was gonna do the scene where they take her away at the end of the movie. Whoever you are - I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. (Pause.) What d’you let her drink so much for? (Pause.) Ah look at her look she’s kind of cute isn’t she? (Pause.) Don’t you think she’s cute? Pause.

JIMMY: Well, it’s time I was going. Thanks for the meal.

CLIFF: Hang on, hang on, you can’t just leave her there.

JIMMY: What d’you want me to do?

CLIFF: Put her to bed.

JIMMY: Me?

CLIFF: Well, I can’t carry her up the stairs can I? Not in this. I’ll go arse over tit.

JIMMY lifts CHERYL up into his arms. She sleepily throws her arms around his neck.

JIMMY: Where to?

CLIFF: Top floor.

JIMMY: Top floor? CLIFF: Oh stop your moaning, it’s only four flights.