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“The Woman in the Red Dress.” (Set:1943)
SCENE 1: Train/Meeting.
The audience hears the sound of a train rattling (as if about to fall apart) in motion. Two pairs of chairs face each other to represent the seating. Facing the chairs is a 'door' dividing the carriages. The stage is mostly in darkness save the occasional flicker of west deck and overhead lights above the baggage rails. We can see from this that the character of EMILY is dozing, asleep. The train grinds to a halt, waking her. EMILY cannot have been fast asleep as she is hardly disorientated on waking. She opens the purse she has tucked between her thigh and arm, taking out a silver cigarette case. She searches for some matches as the 'door' clicks open on the slides. MARGOT enters:
Margot: (American Drawl) “You got a spare one of those?”
Emily looks up delicately, then a state of shock registers on her face. She becomes confused.
Emily: “I...er,”
She fumbles at the cigarette case in her purse and opens it clumsily. She holds it up.
Margot: “Thanks, doll.”
Margot lights the cigarette, facing a diagonal between Emily and the audience. The strike of the match lights her face, showing startlingly dark blue eyes and the electric lights flicker on to reveal the red dress.
Margot: “All this technology and they can never get it to work.”
Through studying Margot, Emily's cigarette remains unlit. Margot sees this and crosses the space so she stands opposite and replaces Emily's cigarette with her lit one. Emily recovers from her stupor as Margot lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. Margot exhales the cigarette and drawls.
Margot: “The name's Margot.”
Emily takes on the information, but forgets to offer her own name.
Margot: “And you are?”
Emily: “Emily.” (she recovers herself once more) “Where are you bound?”
Margot: “End of the line. And you, Doll?”
Emily: (Stumbling at being called Doll) “V...Victoria. We have a house there.”
Margot: (Her interest is sparked) “We?”
Emily: “Well, my husband does...it's all his, really.”
(Margot takes a reflective drag on her cigarette.)
Margot: “Shame.”
Emily: (Defensive) “Shame?!”
Margot: “Oh, not you, doll. Marriage as an institution, the laws around it, that sort of thing.”
Emily: “Surely you're not suggesting a woman keep her own household?”
(Emily doesn't agree with what she's saying, but is shocked a stranger should speak out so easily.)
Margot: “Sure I am. Men are just a figurehead for what we women are already doing; behind every great man, and all that.”
Margot: “Us women should stick together. We'd have much more fun that way.”
(The insinuation does not register until Margot stands to leave. The train rocks back into motion and the lights flicker off.)
Margot: “See, you can bet a man designed the lighting. Later, Doll.”
When the lights come back on Margot has dissapeared and Emily's cigarette has gone out.
SCENE 2: Victoria
There is noise and bustle. The station is relatively packed with men in uniform, anxious looking women and various 'professional' men, e.g. Doctors. All of whom seem to be frantically moving on and off the train. Emily takes this all in and from the corner of her eye, through a fog of train smoke, sees a red shape moving towards the exit. She is compelled to follow, but hears her name. She turns right to see THEODORE. He is dressed smartly in a navy blue overcoat spats and brogues. Two men stand on either side of him. One is tall and overweight, the other is short and 'mean' looking. Like a terrier. Light cascades down from stained glass windows onto the trio. EMILY notes a certain irony.
Emily: (walking towards Theodore) “You've polished your shoes.”
Theodore: “Could nae've done it without you.” (Embracing her and pecking her on the cheek. While they continue their reunion, the stage is changed from a railway scene to a 'modern' detached London house. The 'soldiers/doctors' etc help to change props. The movement surrounds the four characters – centre stage.)
MARGOT and EMILY are standing under a 'blacked out' street lamp in a moonlit park. The effects of the war are clear on the aesthetics of nearby buildings, but the park itself, indeed, nature is still beautifully intact. We see the women's profiles and they are deep in conversation. EMILY keeps glancing around, expecting a siren or a busy-body night-watchman to usher them into a shelter. MARGOT seems to be staring straight into EMILY'S face and hanging onto every word she can snatch before EMILY's gaze wanders off again.
Margot: “Why did you wear blue this evening?”
Emily: “It reminds me of the sea and I haven't been to Plymouth since I was a child.”
Margot: “I prefer you in green. That cast-off from Betty. You look great, your eyes shining and
those pearls to set off the colour. Trust me. I'm an artist.”
Emily: Distracted, glancing away. “But not a doctor. You could be a doctor of art.”
Margot: Putting a hand on Emily's arm, her voice soft. “Hey, I could make your clothes better. Take care of them when they're sick.”
Emily: Head snaps back to Margot's face, as if electrocuted. “That was terrible.”
Margot: Having kept her hand on Emily's arm, she trails a finger up and down. “It wasn't so bad. I could've told you worse. I could have reminded you that you're married; not out painting the town.”
Emily: Softly, as if afraid of her words. “But you paint it for both of us.”
Margot: slowly, elongating her drawl. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Emily: shivers, which makes Margot move to remove her hand from Emily's arm, but is caught short by Emily catching it and holding it between her hands.
Emily: inspecting the hand, gently. “I remember when I was small, I used to be fascinated by my foster mother's hands. She'd be cooking, cleaning, writing...I don't know, anything and I'd just want to reach out and hold it. Just for a moment. Just to see, for that second what she was feeling as she moved. I thought she could do anything with her hands. I think artists – painters, rather are sometimes so full of power that with one touch they can change your life. They can simply pick up a brush, clasp an idea, hold it so hard and squeeze like there's nothing else in the world and just...rearrange what destiny provided.”
Emily: reverently, to herself, while stroking Margot's palm “Have you ever wanted to change someone's life? To put onto paper a different course of events than was organised and filed away for you? To slip into somebody else's skin through the flicker of an iota of an idea? Derisive snort. I must be mad. I must be mad to think about changing my lovely life. Quieter But I do.
Becoming angry: But you can just pick up a brush. You can pack a suitcase and buy a first class ticket to London with your last 'fast earned bucks' mocking Margot's accent. You go ahead and flirt with a secretary for some free bloody tickets to the Opera, where nobody goes anymore because there's no art. There's no art when everybody's dying. In all the wars of all the world, you pick up your bags and come running into the thick of things. My God, you could have stayed in America and been safe!
Margot has been silent and listening, her face unreadable. Abruptly she quietly responds to EMILY'S anger. “I'm in love with you.”
Emily, who only paused for breath to continue doesn't experience the full impact of what has just been said. “And another thing, what bloody kind of a nickname is...What?”
Margot: at the same level and not changing her stance or face. “I'm in love with you.”
Emily: stunned. In denial. “But, but you can't be.”
Emily: gaining momentum “You can't just, love me...just like that. I mean, you're...we're...Near hysteria, comical. It's disgusting. How on earth do you suppose women will react if you just go around telling them that you....you have those kind of feelings and what if...”
Margot: not pausing to break Emily off with words, she cups Emily's face and without warning kisses her passionately. EMILY struggles and pushes for a second, but relaxes into the kiss. They continue for 2-3 seconds.
Emily: gasping and clapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes like dinner plates. “Jesus.”
Margot: “No. Margot.”
Emily: scowling at Margot's off-handedness “Don't you dare make a joke of this! Do you have any idea of what you just did? What you made me do?”
Margot: finally showing some frustration. “I made you? I made you? Listen lady, I just handed you my heart on a silver-fucking free Opera present platter. I kissed you and YOU kissed me back. The only thing I made you do was open your eyes and you terrified yourself.”
Margot: releasing the physical tension that's suddenly clear “I miss you. Every day I can't be near you because your man's got you locked up and your heart threw away the key. I hear your voice in my prayers, taste your skin that I've hardly touched in every last supper I think I'll eat. America is hot and beautiful and full of liquor, but I still can't get you off my mind. Time paces on and on and on and I can't paint. I can't touch colour and light, because, I think, you're always just out of sight. You duck and dodge and betray my heart, but I know the truth. You're a fucking coward. But I love you. I'll always love you. Please, just tell me the truth. Tell me I'm not alone.”
Emily: swaying slightly, as if drunk, whispering to herself “All these years...all these long years. All the words that don't mean anything, as if saying them will make truth appear. You put things down; your handbag, your keys. Cigarettes. You pick up your glasses and then you're married and everybody thinks you're alright. You finally find a way to break yourself down and then you're set free. I lost my keys. I lost my keys. I lost my keys...”
Margot: shaking her, trying to get through to her “Listen to me. Listen to me now. You can put this right. You can walk into the sunset, into sunlight and live your life. Emily, Emily come back to me.”
Emily: “I was always yours. Even before I knew you existed. Even before I could forget how to dream. Your face was hovering at the back of my mind as I sleep-walked into Theo's arms. No. No more excuses. No more lies. I'm not even surprised. There were clues, perhaps. But you...You just...”
Emily: “How?”
Margot: soft again “I just saw you and I knew. Now I realise why.”
Emily: beguiling, reaching out to touch Margot's cheek “How many times have you thought about this moment?”
Margot: “I don't know.”
Emily: “Show me. Show me why you love me. I can't believe it 'till you do.”
MARGOT cups EMILY'S face as the moon appears from behind a cloud, illuminating the scene. Every natural thing around them seems harmonious. Visually, the image of the stage including all the props (like flowers, grass, trees etc) are immaculate and picturesque. EMILY AND MARGOT are the 'only two people in the world.' EMILY leans forward and kisses MARGOT as MARGOT begins to cry. It is important that the audience notices MARGOT crying. Silently, the scene fades to black/changes.
The stage is now bare but for 1 chair and 2 figures. EMILY is standing centre stage and forward. Her hair is in loops and strings, completely unkempt and cut short but pushed back from her face. Her clothes have been replaced by institutional brown cloth. Her eyes are very dark and hollow. A light shines on her face making her seem ghost-like and empty. She is smoking a cigarette that she holds in her left hand, which is shaking. She stares into space, as if she is not in any place. To her left hand side and slightly back from her PETER her psychiatrist is watching her like a hawk, glasses on his nose, pen poised. PETER is wearing a brown suit, which, in contrast to EMILY'S rags is beautifully tailored. He carries a small black notepad.
“Mon Dieu,” By Edith Piaf swells in the background as we see MARGOT walking towards EMILY in the red dress. As the song reaches its climax, the psychiatrist hands EMILY a pistol from underneath his chair, where he picked the whiskey canteen from.
EMILY: in time with the chorus, just as Margot reaches her to touch her shoulder “And the Atheist died in a puff of green smoke.”
PAUSE. To capture the image, MARGOT'S hand is on EMILY'S heart.
BANG.
BLACK-OUT.
APPLAUSE.
SCENE 1: Train/Meeting.
The audience hears the sound of a train rattling (as if about to fall apart) in motion. Two pairs of chairs face each other to represent the seating. Facing the chairs is a 'door' dividing the carriages. The stage is mostly in darkness save the occasional flicker of west deck and overhead lights above the baggage rails. We can see from this that the character of EMILY is dozing, asleep. The train grinds to a halt, waking her. EMILY cannot have been fast asleep as she is hardly disorientated on waking. She opens the purse she has tucked between her thigh and arm, taking out a silver cigarette case. She searches for some matches as the 'door' clicks open on the slides. MARGOT enters:
Margot: (American Drawl) “You got a spare one of those?”
Emily looks up delicately, then a state of shock registers on her face. She becomes confused.
Emily: “I...er,”
She fumbles at the cigarette case in her purse and opens it clumsily. She holds it up.
Margot: “Thanks, doll.”
Margot lights the cigarette, facing a diagonal between Emily and the audience. The strike of the match lights her face, showing startlingly dark blue eyes and the electric lights flicker on to reveal the red dress.
Margot: “All this technology and they can never get it to work.”
Through studying Margot, Emily's cigarette remains unlit. Margot sees this and crosses the space so she stands opposite and replaces Emily's cigarette with her lit one. Emily recovers from her stupor as Margot lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. Margot exhales the cigarette and drawls.
Margot: “The name's Margot.”
Emily takes on the information, but forgets to offer her own name.
Margot: “And you are?”
Emily: “Emily.” (she recovers herself once more) “Where are you bound?”
Margot: “End of the line. And you, Doll?”
Emily: (Stumbling at being called Doll) “V...Victoria. We have a house there.”
Margot: (Her interest is sparked) “We?”
Emily: “Well, my husband does...it's all his, really.”
(Margot takes a reflective drag on her cigarette.)
Margot: “Shame.”
Emily: (Defensive) “Shame?!”
Margot: “Oh, not you, doll. Marriage as an institution, the laws around it, that sort of thing.”
Emily: “Surely you're not suggesting a woman keep her own household?”
(Emily doesn't agree with what she's saying, but is shocked a stranger should speak out so easily.)
Margot: “Sure I am. Men are just a figurehead for what we women are already doing; behind every great man, and all that.”
Margot: “Us women should stick together. We'd have much more fun that way.”
(The insinuation does not register until Margot stands to leave. The train rocks back into motion and the lights flicker off.)
Margot: “See, you can bet a man designed the lighting. Later, Doll.”
When the lights come back on Margot has dissapeared and Emily's cigarette has gone out.
SCENE 2: Victoria
There is noise and bustle. The station is relatively packed with men in uniform, anxious looking women and various 'professional' men, e.g. Doctors. All of whom seem to be frantically moving on and off the train. Emily takes this all in and from the corner of her eye, through a fog of train smoke, sees a red shape moving towards the exit. She is compelled to follow, but hears her name. She turns right to see THEODORE. He is dressed smartly in a navy blue overcoat spats and brogues. Two men stand on either side of him. One is tall and overweight, the other is short and 'mean' looking. Like a terrier. Light cascades down from stained glass windows onto the trio. EMILY notes a certain irony.
Emily: (walking towards Theodore) “You've polished your shoes.”
Theodore: “Could nae've done it without you.” (Embracing her and pecking her on the cheek. While they continue their reunion, the stage is changed from a railway scene to a 'modern' detached London house. The 'soldiers/doctors' etc help to change props. The movement surrounds the four characters – centre stage.)
MARGOT and EMILY are standing under a 'blacked out' street lamp in a moonlit park. The effects of the war are clear on the aesthetics of nearby buildings, but the park itself, indeed, nature is still beautifully intact. We see the women's profiles and they are deep in conversation. EMILY keeps glancing around, expecting a siren or a busy-body night-watchman to usher them into a shelter. MARGOT seems to be staring straight into EMILY'S face and hanging onto every word she can snatch before EMILY's gaze wanders off again.
Margot: “Why did you wear blue this evening?”
Emily: “It reminds me of the sea and I haven't been to Plymouth since I was a child.”
Margot: “I prefer you in green. That cast-off from Betty. You look great, your eyes shining and
those pearls to set off the colour. Trust me. I'm an artist.”
Emily: Distracted, glancing away. “But not a doctor. You could be a doctor of art.”
Margot: Putting a hand on Emily's arm, her voice soft. “Hey, I could make your clothes better. Take care of them when they're sick.”
Emily: Head snaps back to Margot's face, as if electrocuted. “That was terrible.”
Margot: Having kept her hand on Emily's arm, she trails a finger up and down. “It wasn't so bad. I could've told you worse. I could have reminded you that you're married; not out painting the town.”
Emily: Softly, as if afraid of her words. “But you paint it for both of us.”
Margot: slowly, elongating her drawl. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Emily: shivers, which makes Margot move to remove her hand from Emily's arm, but is caught short by Emily catching it and holding it between her hands.
Emily: inspecting the hand, gently. “I remember when I was small, I used to be fascinated by my foster mother's hands. She'd be cooking, cleaning, writing...I don't know, anything and I'd just want to reach out and hold it. Just for a moment. Just to see, for that second what she was feeling as she moved. I thought she could do anything with her hands. I think artists – painters, rather are sometimes so full of power that with one touch they can change your life. They can simply pick up a brush, clasp an idea, hold it so hard and squeeze like there's nothing else in the world and just...rearrange what destiny provided.”
Emily: reverently, to herself, while stroking Margot's palm “Have you ever wanted to change someone's life? To put onto paper a different course of events than was organised and filed away for you? To slip into somebody else's skin through the flicker of an iota of an idea? Derisive snort. I must be mad. I must be mad to think about changing my lovely life. Quieter But I do.
Becoming angry: But you can just pick up a brush. You can pack a suitcase and buy a first class ticket to London with your last 'fast earned bucks' mocking Margot's accent. You go ahead and flirt with a secretary for some free bloody tickets to the Opera, where nobody goes anymore because there's no art. There's no art when everybody's dying. In all the wars of all the world, you pick up your bags and come running into the thick of things. My God, you could have stayed in America and been safe!
Margot has been silent and listening, her face unreadable. Abruptly she quietly responds to EMILY'S anger. “I'm in love with you.”
Emily, who only paused for breath to continue doesn't experience the full impact of what has just been said. “And another thing, what bloody kind of a nickname is...What?”
Margot: at the same level and not changing her stance or face. “I'm in love with you.”
Emily: stunned. In denial. “But, but you can't be.”
Emily: gaining momentum “You can't just, love me...just like that. I mean, you're...we're...Near hysteria, comical. It's disgusting. How on earth do you suppose women will react if you just go around telling them that you....you have those kind of feelings and what if...”
Margot: not pausing to break Emily off with words, she cups Emily's face and without warning kisses her passionately. EMILY struggles and pushes for a second, but relaxes into the kiss. They continue for 2-3 seconds.
Emily: gasping and clapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes like dinner plates. “Jesus.”
Margot: “No. Margot.”
Emily: scowling at Margot's off-handedness “Don't you dare make a joke of this! Do you have any idea of what you just did? What you made me do?”
Margot: finally showing some frustration. “I made you? I made you? Listen lady, I just handed you my heart on a silver-fucking free Opera present platter. I kissed you and YOU kissed me back. The only thing I made you do was open your eyes and you terrified yourself.”
Margot: releasing the physical tension that's suddenly clear “I miss you. Every day I can't be near you because your man's got you locked up and your heart threw away the key. I hear your voice in my prayers, taste your skin that I've hardly touched in every last supper I think I'll eat. America is hot and beautiful and full of liquor, but I still can't get you off my mind. Time paces on and on and on and I can't paint. I can't touch colour and light, because, I think, you're always just out of sight. You duck and dodge and betray my heart, but I know the truth. You're a fucking coward. But I love you. I'll always love you. Please, just tell me the truth. Tell me I'm not alone.”
Emily: swaying slightly, as if drunk, whispering to herself “All these years...all these long years. All the words that don't mean anything, as if saying them will make truth appear. You put things down; your handbag, your keys. Cigarettes. You pick up your glasses and then you're married and everybody thinks you're alright. You finally find a way to break yourself down and then you're set free. I lost my keys. I lost my keys. I lost my keys...”
Margot: shaking her, trying to get through to her “Listen to me. Listen to me now. You can put this right. You can walk into the sunset, into sunlight and live your life. Emily, Emily come back to me.”
Emily: “I was always yours. Even before I knew you existed. Even before I could forget how to dream. Your face was hovering at the back of my mind as I sleep-walked into Theo's arms. No. No more excuses. No more lies. I'm not even surprised. There were clues, perhaps. But you...You just...”
Emily: “How?”
Margot: soft again “I just saw you and I knew. Now I realise why.”
Emily: beguiling, reaching out to touch Margot's cheek “How many times have you thought about this moment?”
Margot: “I don't know.”
Emily: “Show me. Show me why you love me. I can't believe it 'till you do.”
MARGOT cups EMILY'S face as the moon appears from behind a cloud, illuminating the scene. Every natural thing around them seems harmonious. Visually, the image of the stage including all the props (like flowers, grass, trees etc) are immaculate and picturesque. EMILY AND MARGOT are the 'only two people in the world.' EMILY leans forward and kisses MARGOT as MARGOT begins to cry. It is important that the audience notices MARGOT crying. Silently, the scene fades to black/changes.
The stage is now bare but for 1 chair and 2 figures. EMILY is standing centre stage and forward. Her hair is in loops and strings, completely unkempt and cut short but pushed back from her face. Her clothes have been replaced by institutional brown cloth. Her eyes are very dark and hollow. A light shines on her face making her seem ghost-like and empty. She is smoking a cigarette that she holds in her left hand, which is shaking. She stares into space, as if she is not in any place. To her left hand side and slightly back from her PETER her psychiatrist is watching her like a hawk, glasses on his nose, pen poised. PETER is wearing a brown suit, which, in contrast to EMILY'S rags is beautifully tailored. He carries a small black notepad.
“Mon Dieu,” By Edith Piaf swells in the background as we see MARGOT walking towards EMILY in the red dress. As the song reaches its climax, the psychiatrist hands EMILY a pistol from underneath his chair, where he picked the whiskey canteen from.
EMILY: in time with the chorus, just as Margot reaches her to touch her shoulder “And the Atheist died in a puff of green smoke.”
PAUSE. To capture the image, MARGOT'S hand is on EMILY'S heart.
BANG.
BLACK-OUT.
APPLAUSE.
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