Act One - Black Teeth and a Brilliant Smile

Act One

20th December 1990. The Beacon Pub. Cheap Christmas lights flash distractingly under garish tinsel and Freedom! ’90 by George Michael plays from the battered, bog-standard wood-cabinet jukebox.

There is a pub table which seems to be covered in papers and note pads, some of which have fallen on the floor. A metal wastepaper bin is nearby. There are stools at the bar and an old-style pay phone.

Young Andrea and Eileen are at a table amongst the audience. Alma sits at the bar nursing a half of lager, Mo works behind the bar.

The music gives way to sound the sound of driving rain as Andrea comes through the door, shivering and ill. She carries a couple of cheap carrier bags and wears a thick parka. She approaches the bar.

Andrea Half a Castle.

Mo Coming up.

Mo pulls a half of lager for her.

Andrea And have you got any pills?

Mo Pills?

Andrea Not like that. Painkillers. Aspirin? Owt will do.

Mo Might have. Hang on . . .

She roots around behind the bar. Andrea goes to the jukebox and puts 20p in the slot and selects her track – Johnny Come Home by the Fine Young Cannibals.

Mo I was sorry to hear about your dad, by the way.

Andrea Were you?

Mo It won’t be same around here without him.

Andrea Your profits will be down for a start.

Mo hasn’t heard this.

Mo What’s that?

Andrea Nowt. Any luck?

Mo finds a bottle of paracetamol.

Mo How many do you need?

Andrea Just give us the lot.

Mo hesitates before offering the bottle to Andrea.

Andrea Open it for us, will you? I can’t be doing with them childproof caps.

Mo sighs before opening the bottle and handing it over.

Mo Oh Andrea, you look shocking.

Andrea I’m not surprised. I feel like sieved shit.

Mo Oi. Language.

Andrea Sorry. Just got a right head on me.

Mo Self-inflicted, no doubt.

Andrea doesn’t answer that.

Andrea (of the pills) Cheers for these.

She takes the lager and the pills to her table. She takes her fags and lighter from her pocket before taking off her coat and unpacking her carrier bag which is full of more note pads and various scraps of paper. She rubs her temples and opens one of her books at an empty page and lights a fag. She takes a long drag before she starts to write.

Andrea Bad points. Feel very emotional. Can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Only want to drink.

She proves the point by taking a handful of paracetamol with her half of lager. She wipes her mouth and continues writing.

Hate myself. The way I look. No time for anyone. Not interested in life. Allus tired.

And she looks it – she closes her eyes and takes a moment as if she might collapse from exhaustion. She takes a drag from her cigarette and starts to write again.

Good points.

She hesitates with her pen over the page, almost laughing at her inability to come up with anything until . . .

Want to sleep. Want to eat. Want to be my normal self. Want to leave off the drink.

Still, she finishes her half. Thinks for a moment.

Want the kids to be okay.

She nods at this. And finally . . .

I am trying.

Andrea sits back and smokes her cigarette. The Christmas lights around the bar go off and Bye Bye Baby by the Bay City Rollers plays from the jukebox. Young Andrea emerges from the audience and approaches Andrea. They look at each other with amusement.

Andrea Take a picture. It’ll last longer.

Young Andrea Give us a fag.

Andrea Nah. It’ll stunt your growth.

Young Andrea Don’t be tight.

Andrea offers her a cigarette. As she lights it, Eileen approaches.

Eileen Can I have one?

Andrea sighs and holds out the packet to Eileen.

Eileen (to Young Andrea) Here, do you reckon she’ll go to Patel’s for us?

(To Andrea.) Get us a couple of cans? Alright? We’ll give you the money. You can keep the change.

Andrea just sits back and smiles. Eileen gives up with a shrug.

Eileen Tight arse.

(To Young Andrea.) Come on, let’s see who’s down at ‘chippy. Andrea?

But Young Andrea is gawping at Judith who is wearing a housecoat and is up on the bar cleaning with a bucket and chamois leather. Andrea is transfixed as she wrings out the soapy chamois. Eileen laughs.

Eileen Andrea!

Young Andrea Just wait a minute.

Eileen For God’s sake! What is it with you watching her? All she does is clean her bloody house.

Young Andrea I know.

Eileen I don’t get it.

Young Andrea Neither do I.

Andrea She were called Judith. And her house were the cleanest on the street. Every day she did behind her cupboards. Polished her windows with vinegar and newspaper and scrubbed the kitchen sink with soda crystals. All that and she had three sons. But we were only interested in her eldest . . .

Young Andrea/Eileen Craig.

They sigh deeply. Andrea finds a piece of paper amongst the mess on her table. It is pink and covered in love hearts.

Andrea Dear Craig . . .

Young Andrea Don’t bloody read that!

Andrea (mocking) I think you’re gorgeous . . .

Young Andrea snatches the love letter from Andrea. She pulls a face before reading. She takes the note more seriously than her older self. In fact she is utterly sincere as . . .

Young Andrea I think you’re gorgeous. I love your eyes and your hair. I wish I went to same school as you. Will you go out with me?

She hands it back to Andrea who sniffs the pink paper.

Andrea A squirt of Moonwind eau de toilette. How could he say no?

Young Andrea He didn’t.

Andrea Aye, and neither did I. That worked out well, didn’t it?

Young Andrea bristles but returns her attention to Eileen.

Eileen So? Where did he take you?

Young Andrea Down Coley Beck.

Eileen Ooh, dead romantic.

Young Andrea It was, actually. It were raining. We had to shelter under a tree.

Eileen Shelter? That’s a new word for it.

Young Andrea Shut up, Eileen.

Eileen recognises the danger in Andrea’s tone. She goes quiet for a moment before . . .

Eileen When are you going to tell ’em?

Young Andrea I don’t know. Eventually.

Eileen Leave it long enough and you’ll have no need. They’ll be able to see for themselves.

Young Andrea smooths her hand over her belly and looks worried.

Eileen You are sure?

Young Andrea They gave me a test when I went to the Family Planning. Did another one when I got home. Just to double check.

Eileen Then you’ve got to tell ’em.

Young Andrea Dad’ll kill me. And then he’ll kill Craig.

Eileen Maybe . . .

Young Andrea Definitely. He’ll get tanked up and bray him ’til he’s dead.

Eileen Aye, well maybe he should.

Young Andrea It takes two to get pregnant.

Eileen Should have reminded Craig of that when you told him.

Young Andrea (looking over her shoulder) Shush!

Eileen Did he think he could buy you off with a bag of chips and a cheap ring off the market? And all that about getting a priest to help you get rid. Is that what they teach ’em at that posh Catholic school he goes to? I can’t believe you let him get away with that.

Young Andrea I didn’t! I told him I was pregnant not possessed.

They fall about laughing. Andrea joins in.

Andrea I could have done. You know, got rid. Mum and Dad wouldn’t even have had to know. But then I wouldn’t have seen Alma Dunbar in full flight.

At the bar, Alma stands.

Andrea Breathing fire and snot. And all for me. I hoped I could be half the mother she was in that moment.

Alma pulls on her coat and Mo hands her a handbag and pair of suede gloves from behind the bar. She pats her hair and then shouts as if calling to someone upstairs.

Alma Andrea?

Eileen and Young Andrea exchange a look before Eileen scurries off.

Alma Andrea! We’re going to be late. I’m doing this for your benefit.

She spots Young Andrea.

Alma Come on.

Young Andrea hangs her head and approaches Alma who fusses over her, straightening her clothes and smoothing her hair as . . .

Andrea As soon as she found out . . .

Young Andrea You mean, as soon as our Pam opened her fat face and dropped me in it?

Young Andrea/Andrea Gobby Cow.

Alma clips Young Andrea around the back of the head for that.

Andrea As soon as that happened, Mum took everything in hand. Like she knew what she needed to do. Which was good because I had no bloody idea.

Alma gives Young Andrea a fierce hug.

Andrea Starting with the school. Headmaster knew I were in trouble before my dad and he were full of suggestions. Barkerend School for Unmarried Mothers. That’s where they wanted to send me.

Young Andrea (to Alma) A boarding school?

Andrea Out of sight and out of mind until the baby was born.

Young Andrea Mam . . .

Alma puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Alma No, I don’t think so. I don’t mind her going there to do her CSEs and that. But I want her home on a night. Andrea’s my daughter and I’ll look after her.

Andrea Then we had to tell Dad.

A fearful Young Andrea looks at Andrea.

Young Andrea Do we have to? He might not even notice. You know what he’s like.

Andrea Pissed, usually.

Alma He has a right to know. It’ll be okay.

Andrea He’d spent the day in the Cap and Bells. So, he was already well-oiled when he came in for his dinner. She waited until he was scarfing down his mash like someone were going to take it off him.

Alma John? Andrea’s summat to tell you.

Young Andrea Me? I can’t, Mam.

Alma Andrea?

Young Andrea No. You tell him.

Alma Fine. She’s pregnant, John.

Andrea Well, his cutlery went one way, his chair t’other. ‘What? You’re up the fucking duff? Are you joking?’ And then his belt were off. Thank God she were there.

Alma pushes Young Andrea behind her as if protecting her from her father’s belt.

Alma That’s enough, John. I said that’s enough!

Andrea He gave it up as a bad job and went back down the pub.

Alma turns to Young Andrea, angry and shaken.

Alma Well? What did you expect?

Andrea I were never sure whether she were protecting me or the baby. Didn’t matter either way in the end.

Andrea closes her eyes as she remembers, gripping the table as a wave of nausea and dizziness grips her.

Young Andrea is laughing and giddy as we hear laughter, loud music, a revving engine.

Young Andrea (laughing) Oh my God. Sean, you’re a nutter.

And there are flashing blue lights. Laughter turns to fear as we hear the car speed up.

Young Andrea Shit. No, Sean. Don’t! It’s not worth it. Please!

A screech of tyres brings it all to a crashing stop – literally. Andrea and Young Andrea both feel the impact and crash to the ground.

Silence.

It takes a moment for them to move again. Young Andrea grips her stomach and winces with pain. Andrea’s hand goes to her head as if feeling sympathetic pain.

Young Andrea Something’s not right.

Andrea It’s going to be okay.

Young Andrea Is it?

Andrea can’t answer that. Young Andrea stares at her hopefully until she cries out in pain and doubles over again. Again, Andrea feels the pain in her head.

A beat – they both need a moment to recover.

Alma helps Young Andrea to her feet.

Andrea One of the nurses said it were for the best. I asked her what she bloody meant by that. She didn’t answer.

Alma helps Young Andrea put on a school blazer and hands her a school bag as . . .

Young Andrea Mum, please . . .

Alma I don’t want hear it, Andrea.

Young Andrea Just another day!

Alma You’ve been laying on that sofa for weeks.

Young Andrea I’m not ready!

Alma Tough! Because I’m sick of the bloody sight of you!

(Softening.) Andrea, you were doing alright at school before all this. And now you’re not going to . . . Well, you’ve no reason not to go back. Have you?

She can’t argue with that. Alma sits back at the bar.

The school bell rings.

Young Andrea sighs and then notices Andrea offering her a school timetable from amongst her papers. She begrudgingly snatches it from her.

Young Andrea French, Science, Maths, History, Geography . . . Oh shit.

She looks at Andrea.

Young Andrea Domestic fucking Science.

Andrea Got Biology this aft. That’s not so bad.

Young Andrea Depends on the teachers. If they like you or not.

Andrea And they don’t.

The Teachers pop up from behind the bar.

Teacher One Geography. Andrea must realise there is a world outside of Yorkshire. D minus.

Teacher Two Religious Instruction. Andrea is not God. And she must come to terms with this. D.

Teacher Three Domestic Science.

Young Andrea/Andrea Oh fuck.

Teacher Three As I have yet to actually see Andrea in my classroom, I feel unable to report on her progress. No mark given.

Young Andrea And they reckon I’m the one with the bad attitude.

Andrea Well . . .

Young Andrea Yeah? What about that bloody careers teacher? Took one look.

Teacher One pops up from behind the bar. She gives an outraged Young Andrea a long appraising look. Andrea is amused. She lights a fag and sits back to watch.

Teacher One They’re always looking for good workers in the worsted mills. How does that sound?

Young Andrea Shit.

Teacher One Well, I suppose you could think about shop work. If you did better at maths.

Young Andrea What about being a writer? I’m good at writing.

Teacher One Well, you’ve certainly got a vivid imagination. There aren’t any jobs for writers in Bradford.

Young Andrea Well, I’m not working in a shop.

Teacher One Then you’ll just have to study a bit harder. If you’re lucky you might just qualify as a teacher. Like me.

Young Andrea And why the fuck would I want to do that?

Teacher One pops back behind the counter.

Andrea At least I knew where I stood.

The school bell rings.

Young Andrea Oh shit.

Andrea Don’t tell me . . .

Young Andrea/Andrea Domestic fucking Science.

Andrea I never had the right ingredients with me. That’s why I didn’t bother going. Mam could barely feed us. I wasn’t about to ask to go shopping for icing sugar and fucking bun cases. I’d rather take the punishment.

Andrea holds out a sheet of paper for Young Andrea who sulkily snatches it from her

Andrea Both sides.

Young Andrea gives her a filthy look. Andrea smiles to herself.

Andrea Why I Don’t Like Cookery by Andrea Dunbar.

Young Andrea writes at a table.

Young Andrea First off, the title of this essay is a load of shit.

She scribbles out what she has just written.

A load of rubbish. It’s not that I don’t like cookery. I just don’t see the point of it. It’s not like you are teaching me anything useful in real life. Like last week. Butterfly buns?! Who’s got time for fucking buns . . .

She scribbles out again.

You can’t feed a family on butterfly buns. And the same goes for pavlova. I’m sure some daft bastards . . .

Another scribble.

I’m sure some people with plenty of money and time to spare think cookery is a lovely hobby. I just don’t think it should be a school lesson.

Young Andrea sits back, happy with what she has written. She hands the essay back to Andrea.

Andrea Both sides. All like that. Apparently they were passing it around the staff room for a laugh. Anyway, that’s why Mr Priestley asked me to join his drama class. I wasn’t sure.

Young Andrea If it’s all going to be Shakespeare and playing let’s pretend and that. Well, I might as well be baking buns.

Andrea But he didn’t want me to be in plays. He wanted me to write.

Young Andrea Write? What about?

Andrea Write what you know.

Young Andrea All I know is Buttershaw.

Andrea Then write about that.

Young Andrea I already do. I’ve got pads full of stuff I’ve written.

Andrea Then you’re already a writer, Andrea. Best get on with it.

An important moment: Andrea and Young Andrea beam at each other. Young Andrea takes something from her school bag – a battered note pad full of writing.

Young Andrea The Arbor by Andrea Dunbar.

She looks proud for a moment before handing it back to Andrea for safekeeping. Andrea nods, understanding it’s importance.

We hear the school bell.

She looks on sadly as Young Andrea takes off her blazer.

We hear the sound of noises of mill machinery – loud and clashing.

Young Andrea winces at it for a moment before Joan approaches wearing a mucky coverall and a hairnet. She hands the same to Young Andrea and she puts them on. As Young Andrea tucks her hair under the net.

Joan (shouting over the machinery noise) I’m telling you, there’s no bloody way you can feed a family on a mill worker’s basic. So, we’re buggered if they cut ‘wages.

The noise stops and Joan talks normally.

Only way to break even is to take any extra shifts they offer you. And hope you don’t get too bloody tired to do ‘job reet. Especially if you like seeing ten fingers at the end of your wrists.

Young Andrea stares at her own hands.

Joan Might actually be a relief when they finally close this place down.

Young Andrea Eh? When’s that happening?

Joan Eventually. Only so long we can hold our own against cheap imports and cheap labour. Not for the want of trying, mind. Have you seen it in ‘sorting shed? Not a white face amongst them. Still, it’s a bloody filthy job. They’re probably ‘only ones that’ll do it.

She offers Young Andrea a cigarette which she accepts. They both light up enjoying a moment of peace.

Joan I tell you, this country’s going to the bloody dogs. Have you heard about ‘gravediggers? They’ve gone on bloody strike now. We’ve already got piles of rubbish in t’street. Are we just supposed to chuck ‘dead bodies on ‘pile an’ all?

She shakes her head in disgust.

Joan So, do you want this extra shift on Thursday night or what?

Young Andrea I’ll take owt I can get, Joan.

Joan Good lass.

Young Andrea So, what will you do if they give you your cards?

Joan Sign on. Not like there’ll be owt else for me. What about you?

Young Andrea Allus thought I’d be a writer.

Joan (amused) Did you now?

Young Andrea (defensive) I wrote a play at school and my teachers sent it to Yorkshire Telly.

(Quietly.) Nowt came of it.

Joan What were it about?

Young Andrea Just stuff that happened. Real stuff. I just write down what I see and hear.

Joan Do you now? Not sure how I feel about ending up in a bloody play for folk to gawp at.

Young Andrea You’re not in it.

Joan Oh, too boring I suppose.

Young Andrea No! I’ve not touched it since I came to work here. Too knackered by the time I get home.

Joan Well, this shift goes on ’til early hours. You’ll have to have a taxi home. No walking it to save the money, you hear me? Not with that bloody lunatic on the loose.

Young Andrea I thought he only did prossies in?

Joan He’s got a taste for it now, hasn’t he? Might not be so picky next time. Next one could be someone who doesn’t deserve it. Use Solar Cars on Leeds Road. The drivers are all coloured but they’re alright.

We hear the beep of a car horn. Young Andrea pulls off her hair net and coverall. Andrea smiles and goes in her bag for a comb and lipgloss which she hands to Young Andrea.

Young Andrea checks her hair and face as if in a mirror. As she puts on the lip gloss we hear another beep and the sound of a car revving and energetic Hindi music.

Young Andrea Alright! Keep your Y-fronts on! I’m coming.

She gives herself the once over as she takes a seat over by the jukebox. The music becomes more romantic as the car drives away.

Andrea It were his eyes. In the rear view mirror. Blacker than anthracite with these long lashes. His name was Yousaf. Sometimes we’d talk all the way to Buttershaw.

Young Andrea I hate working there. It’s filthy for a start. I’m going to look for summat else. Well, I’m going to have to. Only a matter of time before they close the place down.

Andrea So, he tells me they’re looking for someone in the taxi office.

Young Andrea I can’t drive.

Andrea Reckons I don’t need to. Reckons I’ll be in the office. I just need to know Bradford. All the different areas.

Young Andrea I don’t know . . .

Andrea He says he’ll get me an A to Z. And that they need a pretty lady in the office.

Young Andrea grins at this.

Young Andrea Oh, I don’t know. That office is up Leeds Road. It’s miles away.

Andrea Not a problem. He’ll pick me up and take you home. Always had an answer for everything did Yousaf. God, he was so handsome I could barely look at him. And I couldn’t say no to him either.

The pay phone on the bar rings. Young Andrea goes over and answers it. We hear other phones ringing as she speaks.

Young Andrea Solar Cars. Picking up from? And where are you going, love?

(Calling out, phone to her chest.) Masood? Pick up from The Beehive. Going to Queensbury. For Tina.

(To the caller.) He’s on his way, love. About ten minutes, alright?

We hear the beep of a car horn. Young Andrea grins.

Young Andrea Ali? That’s me done. See you tomorrow.

By the jukebox, she takes a seat as if in a car and we hear the car drive away.

Andrea And he kept his promise. Drove me home every night. Well, not all the way home. If my dad had seen me with him . . . So, we’d park up round the corner and . . .

Young Andrea Talk!

Andrea Aye, and the rest.

Young Andrea laughs but her smile fades as there is the flash of a blue light and the whine of a police siren. Andrea picks up a torch and shines it in the face of an annoyed Young Andrea.

Andrea (as a police officer) License and registration.

(As herself.) Yousaf warned me to let him do the talking. Not to make trouble for him. But I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand the look on the copper’s face. How he talked to him. And I tried to to keep my gob shut . . .

(As a police officer.) And what are you two up to then?

Young Andrea None of your bloody business.

Andrea (as a police officer) I beg to differ, love. And I won’t ask again . . .

Young Andrea We’re just out for a drive.

Andrea (as a police officer) Oh, aye? At this hour?

Young Andrea We work together.

Andrea (as a police officer) I bet you do.

Young Andrea What’s that supposed to mean?

Andrea (as a police officer) Starting ’em younger everyday.

Young Andrea He’s a bloody taxi driver. I’m the radio dispatcher. Alright?

Andrea (as a police officer) Never heard it called that before.

Young Andrea You what? Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are . . .

Andrea switches of the torch, ending Young Andrea’s rant.

Andrea It went on like that for a bit. And all the while I could see Yousaf gripping the steering wheel. His knuckles were whiter than mine by the end. And I thought he were pissed off with the copper, like me. But when that pig finally got back in his panda car . . .

Young Andrea (furious) What are you so mad at me for?! I was standing up for you!

Andrea Told me I had no idea. How you don’t cause trouble for yourself when you’re coloured. How them that cause trouble end up in a cell but only after they’ve fallen down the steps or accidentally run into a police-issue boot a couple of dozen times. He told me that he didn’t have time for me, if I was going to be such a stupid bitch.

Young Andrea Well, you can fuck off then!

Andrea It was our first row. It wasn’t our bloody last.

Eileen offers Young Andrea a cigarette. They both light up.

Young Andrea And do you know what really pissed me off? He were right. I should have kept my gob shut.

Eileen And you told him that?

Young Andrea looks at Eileen.

Did I fuck!

They both laugh, but the humour goes out of Young Andrea as . . .

Young Andrea I’m sick of it, Eileen. I mean, I expected it from our David and my dad.

Eileen Your dad knows about you and Yousaf? How did he find out.

Young Andrea How do you think?

Young Andrea/Andrea Gobby Cow.

Eileen Bloody hell. What did your dad say?

Young Andrea That he’d fucking kill him.

Andrea And me.

Young Andrea That white folk are meant to go out with white folk not coloureds. Especially not Pakistanis.

Eileen Well, what did you expect?

Young Andrea Yeah, but then I’ve got Sharon and Pauline having a go when they see us together.

Sharon and Pauline pop up from behind the bar.

Sharon Aren’t you supposed to walk behind him?

Pauline You’re not gonna marry him, are you? Have his kids?

Sharon He’ll never let you out of the house if you do!

Pauline You’ll be wearing a sari next! Bud bud ding ding tickets please.

Young Andrea goes as if to tackle them. They duck back down behind the bar, giggling.

Young Andrea Nearly smashed their bastard faces in.

Young Andrea smokes angrily.

Eileen Like I said, what did you expect? The last time a paki . . .

A sharp look from Young Andrea.

Eileen . . . stani. The last time one of their lot moved in round here. They got their windows put in every other night. Didn’t they? You’re going have to be careful.

Young Andrea Might be a bit late for that?

Eileen What do you mean?

Young Andrea looks at the pushchair.

Young Andrea Is that a good ’un? If it is, I’ll get the same make. Mum says that she’ll pay for it.

The penny drops for Eileen.

Eileen And is Yousaf is ready to be a dad?

Young Andrea I think so. He’s been right protective since he found out.

Eileen That’s nice.

The look on Young Andrea’s face suggests it might not be.

Eileen Isn’t it?

Young Andrea It’s just . . . Living with him is different to going out with him. We’re allus rowing.

Eileen Yeah but you row with everyone. Jesus, Andrea. You could start a fight in a bloody graveyard.

Young Andrea I suppose.

Eileen And you can allus walk out. If it gets bad.

Young Andrea Easy as that.

Eileen heads off with her pushchair. Young Andrea puts her hand on her belly.

Andrea Easy as that.

Andrea looks for something in the papers. She finds it and reads.

Andrea My baby. You’ll soon be here. I don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl. Don’t care either way. I just want you to come and soon. It hurts to breathe and I keep having to get up to pee in the night. Your dad shouts at me for waking him. So, I sit up writing to you by the fire instead. I hope you can’t hear him in there. I hope you’re born happy. I hope folk aren’t cruel to you for being half-caste. You will be my friend and I will always love you.

At the bar, Eileen dials a number into the pay phone.

Andrea I kept telling myself that it’d get better after the baby came. Because sleepless nights and mucky nappies allus put folk in a better mood.

Eileen waits for an answer before putting her money in.

Eileen Hello, is that social services? Listen, it’s not me, it’s my friend. She sent me this letter. Her fella, he’s knocking seven bells out of her, I reckon. And there’s a baby an’ all. A woman’s refuge? Where is it? Cos if it isn’t far enough away, he’ll find her. And he’ll bloody kill her.

Andrea is searching through her papers, to no avail. Young Andrea looks up.

Young Andrea You won’t find it.

Andrea It’s here, somewhere.

Young Andrea No it’s bloody not. Remember?

They look at each other. Andrea does remember.

Andrea Oh yeah. I had to burn it. In case Yousaf found it. Cos if he had . . . It were a great letter an’ all.

Young Andrea Eileen’s big escape plan.

Eileen throws her a small overnight bag. Young Andrea catches.

Eileen Get your stuff together.

Young Andrea looks around. She looks at Andrea who hands her The Arbour manuscript.

Eileen Just the essentials.

Young Andrea Just the essentials.

Young Andrea puts the manuscript in her bag and stashes it under her chair.

Eileen Make sure you’re ready to go.

Young Andrea sits on the chair, fidgeting with nerves. She starts when the doorbell rings.

Young Andrea I wonder who that could be. I’ll get it.

She gets up to answer but . . .

Andrea (as Yousaf) What do you think you’re doing? I answer the door in my house, not you.

Young Andrea nods.

Andrea (as Yousaf) Can’t bloody trust you. Can I?

Young Andrea’s hands are forced behind her back as if tied to the chair.

The doorbell rings again.

Young Andrea is incapacitated. Her head snaps back as she is slapped for good measure.

Andrea (as Yousaf) Keep your mouth shut if you don’t want another.

(To the audience.) It’s okay. This is how it were meant to go.

Eileen So, it’ll be our kid at the door. He’ll be reckoning that there’s summat wrong with his car.

(As her brother.) Got any jump leads, mate?

(Back to herself.) He’s just got this Ford Escort with new alloys. Spends half his time under its bonnet. And every time he does he ends up with a crowd of slack-jawed lads around him talking about spark plugs and shit. And I remember you saying that Yousaf is obsessed with cars and that. He won’t be able to resist.

Andrea (as Yousaf) Nice motor that. How much you pay for it?

We hear the front door shut. We hear the sound of them trying to unsuccessfully start the car.

Eileen And whilst he’s round the front. I’ll be round the back letting myself in.

Eileen frees Andrea. They embrace but freeze as they hear the Escort’s engine turn over and rev.

Eileen Time we weren’t here.

Young Andrea gets her bag.

Eileen Is that all you’re taking?

Young Andrea You said, just the essentials.

Eileen Yeah, I meant nappies and baby clothes and toys and that.

Young Andrea I never thought . . .

They freeze again as they hear the beep of the car’s horn.

Eileen Too late now. He’s coming back.

Young Andrea Kitchen door.

Eileen Come on. Make sure you don’t forget the baby an’ all!

They dash out.

Andrea I’ve never run so fast. All the way down Killinghall Road without looking back. Not even once. I’d no idea what Yousaf would do when he found me gone. And I didn’t bloody well want to find out.

Eileen’s brother was round the corner with his car doors open and his engine running. As he drove away, Eileen asked me if I were alright. I told her I’d never felt better.

Andrea smiles before searching through her papers for a letter.

At the bar, Alma takes one from her handbag and opens it and reads.

Andrea Dear Mum, I don’t reckon it’ll come as much of a surprise, but I’ve left Yousaf and I’ve taken our Lorraine with me. We’re both fine, but I can’t tell you where we are. It’s the rules where am I staying. And anyway, if I don’t tell you, you won’t have to lie to him when he comes round to yours to look for me. And if he does, then I’m sorry. Love Andrea.

An upset Alma holds the letter to her chest for a moment. Young Andrea and Eileen sit by the jukebox. They are joined by Claire who hands them a copy of The Telegraph and Argus.

Claire Morning, ladies. Here you go. All the news that’s fit to print.

Young Andrea picks up the paper.

Young Andrea Looks like he’s done another one in.

Eileen Who?

Young Andrea Ripper. Who the bloody hell else?

Eileen I don’t know. Shut up.

Young Andrea Well, stop being so thick.

Eileen Fuck off!

Eileen sulks.

Claire Going a bit stir crazy are we?

Young Andrea Can you blame us? There’s nowt to do here but fratch with each other.

Eileen She’s only maungy because she can’t sleep.

Claire Sorry to hear that.

Young Andrea Not your fault.

Eileen Up all hours, pen scratching away at her bloody note pads.

Claire (a bit too surprised) You write?

Young Andrea nods.

Claire What is it that you write?

Young Andrea hesitates but decides to be bold.

Young Andrea Plays. I write plays.

Claire Really? I didn’t know that.

Young Andrea Don’t allus tell folk.

Claire You know I work for a theatre company in Bradford.

Young Andrea So?

Claire So, if you wanted me to read something of yours . . .

Young Andrea is tempted but suspicious. She is annoyed when Eileen nudges her – go on!

Young Andrea No. It’s nowt really.

Eileen Nowt? It were only thing you packed when you legged it. No nappies, no bootees, no clean knickers . . .

Young Andrea For fuck’s sake, Eileen!

(To Claire.) It’s just stuff I’ve heard and seen and done. It’s probably a load of crap.

Claire Well, it’s up to you.

Young Andrea thinks for a moment . . .

Young Andrea Hang on.

She gets up from the table and approaches Andrea at hers. Andrea hesitates before handing over a pile of notepads and school exercise books. Young Andrea nods as she takes them. Young Andrea comes back to her table.

Young Andrea I’ll need ’em back, Claire. Swear on your life you won’t lose ’em.

Claire I’ll do my best. Here, you’ve had some post.

Claire hands her a letter and leaves with Eileen. Andrea finds a copy of it on her table. They both read.

Alma Dear Andrea. I hope this finds you and Lorraine well. I’ve been sending your postcards on to Yousaf, like you asked. Anyway, he came up here. Shouting the odds until every curtain on the street were twitching.

Our David had to chase him off with a plank of wood in the end. Pamela reckons she’s seen his car hanging about by Patel’s since then. So, it’s probably best you stay put for the time being. Love Mum.

Andrea and Young Andrea get out their fags and light up. Young Andrea leans against the jukebox drinking a can and lets out a deep sigh as . . .

Andrea Ten miles to Buttershaw from the refuge. Might as well have been ten thousand. Thought about walking it when the weather got better. Nights got a bit lighter. I used to walk about at all hours. Never bothered me, but after Yousaf . . . Just didn’t feel safe. I just felt trapped.

Young Andrea spots someone and waves to them.

Young Andrea Alright, Mick?

She laughs at something he says. Eileen joins her.

Eileen (contempt) God, he fancies himself. What’s with the tight trousers? Must be cutting his circulation off. And half his shirt buttons open like he’s Barry bloody Gibb or summat.

They both laugh, but Young Andrea is keeping her own counsel. They wave at Mick again.

Eileen Knocking forty and still dyeing his hair. I reckon his wife does it for him over the kitchen sink.

Young Andrea I don’t. That woman’s got a mouth like a cat’s arse.

Eileen I don’t blame her. Married to that.

Young Andrea Wonder what she’d say if she knew he’d invited me up to Baildon Moor.

Eileen You’re not going to go with him are you?

Young Andrea Nowt else to do.

Andrea But that was about to change.

She finds a letter and holds it up to look at it. Thoughtful, as if she is not sure she wants to go down this stretch of Memory Lane.

Andrea Max.

She takes a long drag of her cigarette before . . .

Andrea I couldn’t believe it when he said he liked my play. Couldn’t believe it when he said he’d come up to Bradford to see me. Couldn’t have the meeting at the refuge. No men allowed. So, we told him to come to one of the volunteer’s houses. He was already making himself at home when I got there with Lorraine in the pushchair. He shook my hand. His big hot hands around my cold blue ones.

Young Andrea, her coat on, stands with the pushchair. Andrea takes on the role of Max. It is an affectionate but satirical portrayal.

Andrea (as Max) How marvellous to meet you! It really is an honour.

(To the audience.) Aye, alright. Hair to his collar, long legs, long nose and this big leather diary in front of him. Couldn’t take me eyes of that. It were a bit better than my old school books.

(As Max.) Love the play. Did it take long to write?

Young Andrea No.

Andrea (as Max) And have you ever been to London before?

Young Andrea Never been anywhere.

Andrea (as Max) Well, we’d like to offer you an opportunity to come to the Royal Court. Writers are incredibly important to us and we endeavour to find the very best young playwrights in the country. And I sincerely believe you’re one of them. So, what do you say?

Long pause.

Young Andrea Will I get paid?

Andrea (as Max) There’s a small fee . . .

Young Andrea Small?

Andrea (as Max) Well, writers really are at the core of our philosophy . . .

Young Andrea How much?

Andrea (as Max, losing patience) The office will sort all that out. As I was saying . . .

Young Andrea See, the thing is, if you send it to Brafferton, my dad’ll spend it down the Beacon. So, you’ll have to sort it with the post office or summat. Cos I don’t have a bank account.

Andrea (as Max) I’ll see what I can do.

Young Andrea accepts this.

Andrea (as Max) The important thing is that you have written one of the best scripts I’ve seen by a young writer in quite a long time. You have an extraordinary gift for dialogue. I showed your play to a friend of mine and she agreed. You have talent spilling over . . .

The compliments make Young Andrea uncomfortable.

Young Andrea Look, I’ve stuff to be getting on with. And it’s getting dark.

Andrea (as Max) Andrea, I have driven quite a long way. I was hoping we could discuss the play? It will need some work . . .

Young Andrea Baby needs feeding and I’ve shopping to get in.

Andrea (as Max) But you will come to London?

Young Andrea Aye. If you send me some train tickets.

She makes to leave but . . .

Young Andrea But send me the money first.

End of Act One.