OH, EILEEN!

by

Pam Gems

Copyright © Pam Gems
Pam Gems is hereby identified as author of this work in accordance with section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. The author has asserted her moral rights. 

All rights whatsoever in this play are strictly reserved and application for performance etc. should be made before rehearsal to Rose Cobbe, United Agents, 12-26 Lexington Street, London W1F 0LE, UK. Tel: +44 (0) 20 3214 0800.
http://unitedagents.co.uk/agents/rose-cobbe/. Assistant: Dan Usztan. Email: dusztan@unitedagents.co.uk Tel: +44 (0) 20 3214 0873. No performance may be given unless a licence has been obtained.

OH, EILEEN!

Street noises.  The sound of a key in the lock.  A door opens and closes.  The sound of a canary singing.

			EILEEN
		(Arriving, tired)  Placido, shut up.  Ooh!

		(Sounds as she unpacks shopping)  The trouble with Safeways is you keep seeing things.  Salmon quiche - I mean!

		And there's enough for four, it won't keep, it'll go all fridgy.

		Next door's cat again.

		She keeps telling me off.

		He's not fat!

		Kettle - kettle...kettle...

Sound of kettle.

Chink of teacup and spoon.

		Lemon...lemon...lemon.

Sounds as she makes her mug of tea.

		(Sits)  Ahh.  That's better.  Ooh - so bloody hot without milk!

		Never mind, Eileen.  Cholesterol.

She sips.

		You must eat.

		There's nothing wrong he says.

		It's stress.

		Tablets made me cross-eyed, stupid fool of a doctor.

		If he clipped Placido's claws he'd have his foot off.

		It could be an ulcer.

		Or a lump.

		No.  (Puts down the cup.)  Bloody man's right for once.

		It's tension.

		Damned copier on, day after day - right through your head!

		Headache Dispenser, Mark One.

		THEY don't even notice it.  Too busy yelling.  No wonder I'm not hungry!

		HE'D eat donkey's bum so long as the menu was in French.

		Eat anything.

		What must it be like to have an appetite?

		Must be like feeling young all the time.

		A bit of fruit.  No, you'll get the runs again.  Ohh, you cunning little devil - you know what you're after!

		Ginger biscuit!

Sound of chair as she rises.  Crackle as she opens the packet of biscuits.  She eats.

		Mmmmm - oh go on, have two.

		That's better.

Pause.

		Oh dear.

		Here - none of that - steady as you go - come on now...

		Oh God...oh God, oh God please help me, I don't like it, it won't stop, I can't and it frightens me.

		I want to push a knitting needle in her face, in her eye, I want to kill her.

		It's this voice...telling me - no, I won't!

		I won't!

		(Groans)  Ohhh...

Crackle of the biscuit packet.  She eats and talks at the same time.

		I ca-

She groans quietly, subsides.

		All right, Eileen.

		You're all right.

		You'll be OK in a minute.

She breathes deeply several times.

		OK now -

		Watch your programme.

She switches on the television, changes programme from loud pop, to US soap, to programme on motor racing, programme on chat presenter showing off, to rap.

		(Savagely)  Oh great.  (Switches off.)  There must be something.  (Sound of paper as she looks at the Radio Times.)

		Cooking...

		Makeover...

		Your garden glamorised in a day - 

		Cooking - incest ...well I'll mark that.

		Ooh, my hip!  That Fool of a doctor - it's no good, I'll have to go back.

She groans, the chair creaks as she sits.

		Bloody doctors.

		You can see it in their eyes.

		"Here she comes - Miss Frigidaire - spinster of the year.

		Couldn't even get herself a man.

		Not one.

		Ever.

		Not even a grope.

		A cuddle.

		A shove-up against the wall.

		Zilch.

		Nothing.

		Zero.

		Why didn't you make a fool of yourself like the rest of them?  Who do you think you are?

		You should have used make-up, done all the silliness, that's what they wanted, what they went after.

		You weren't that bad - better than a lot of them.

		Nice thin legs.

		But oh no.

		(Mimics herself)  "I want to be loved for myself."

		Doesn't bloody work that way, mate.

She laughs, grimly.

		There was just the once.

		Nearly.

		Face like a bum.

		I thought, oh you poor bugger.

		I wouldn't have wasted all that time with him if he hadn't been so awful.

		Listening to that voice.

		Eating curry.

		Then he goes off and marries a dwarf.

		I should have settled for him, I could have shut my eyes shut and pretended it was Bruce Willis.

She strikes a match, lights up, draws on her cigarette, exhales with pleasure.

		Eleven years.

		Eleven years we'd have been married.

		Three children - Rachel - Jake - little Davy.

		Oh, what must it be like?  Ecstasy.

		That's what I've missed...ecstasy.

		They're getting it all right - if he's not with his wife or that Belgian piece he's with Her, the dirty devil.

		And Rob and Maggie in Sales, and now Josie with Brian.

		Why couldn't I have met a nice boy like that - falls into her lap at nineteen, lovely boy like that.

		Ohh! they ought to pay people to cuddle you.

		If they gave it on the National Health there wouldn't be nearly so many stoppages.

		PUT THAT OUT AND STOP BUYING THEM!

Sound as she crushes the cigarette out onto a saucer.

		I wouldn't mind if they left it alone.

		We're supposed to be there to work, God knows what would happen if I wasn't running that office - it would collapse, at least I've got the satisfaction of knowing - oh balls to that, Eileen!

		You're getting as coarse as the rest of them.

		There's no romance!

		No sensitivity!

		The way they - it makes you ashamed to be a woman.

		Treating me like a gauleiter.

		I'd love a chat now and then about clothes... hair.

		I'm no different because I'm older.

Sound of chair as she gets up, looks in the glass.

		You know, you could look ten years younger.  Write to that magazine, get them to do a transformation, what is it they call it - makeover - they've done women worse than you.

		Oh Christ.  I've forgotten again.

She moves chairs.

		Right.

		Breathe in -

She breathes in and out deeply.

		Left right, left right - three four...

		Now relax...it's no good if you don't relax -

		You could (pants with effort) join a club.

		Like that woman.

		(Panting)  Signed up all the clubs where she'd meet men.

		Snooker - golf - rifle club.
		Even (puff) bloody fishing.

		It worked.

		Even if it did end in divorce she got a kid.

		(Puffs)  Get out and meet people.

		Stay stuck in here, who's going to come up five flights to winkle you out?

		Get your skates on...take a chance on life.

Slight pause.

		I offered to babysit...ooh this shoulder's stiff -

		I suppose they didn't want to be beholden.

		It's since SHE came.

		Completely different atmosphere.

		I've always taken him his tea, I know how he likes it, full-cream and infused properly, gnats' pee the way she does it.

		I'm not telling her.

		It was me found the laundry for his shirts...oh, I wish we were back in the old days.

		One office, all mail order - I didn't mind the stairs.

		We Made that place.

		I never begrudged a minute of the extra time, it was exciting.

		He's not like his father - He never forgot, a bunch of anemones every birthday - even tulips once.

		They sit there, painting their nails, changing the subject when I walk through the door.

		It's very...

		...think I was something the cat brought in... (She assumes a simpering male voice)...

		"Ew, we don't talk about problem and solution now, Miss Arnold, it's all challenge and response...", giggle, giggle, giggle.

		Oh - I've stopped.

		A few more stretchy ones, then on the floor with you, Eileen - where's the yoga book?

		No, that's enough.  They all get arthritis, athletes - you don't want to overdo it.

		That's your story.  (Laughs at herself.)

		Now.

		Let's see.

		Done the ironing...

		I'll keep my book for tonight or I won't have anything to read.

		I could tidy my drawers.

		Oh, it's all so Silly!

		Why should I have to live like this?

		Nobody should, staying in fifty weeks a year to scrape enough for two weeks off, it's not worth it!

		All that way for a room next to the gents'.

		What chance have you got, woman on your own they see you coming.

		I know!

		I haven't put my lovely big wooden button on my sweater!

Sounds as she opens a drawer, takes out her newly knitted sweater.  Grunts as she tries it on.

		Slip you on...

		Now - let's see how we look.

		Ooh.  Now that...mmm...mohair...

		I knew the dark mauve was right -

		Every time I sew up I think that's it, no more knitting.  I won't do another one, you're not an old lady yet - (she laughs.)

		Come on, you know you've got your eye on that bronzy brown wool!

		Oh, walk the other way home!

		Keep passing the shop.

		How do you think you're going to get to Spain if you spend, spend, spend!

		Never know, I might have my veins done by then.
		I must be near the top after three years -  then I could walk and walk!

		Spain!

She clicks her fingers, singing a bit of the Habanera from Carmen.

		I like Spain.

		Quieter than Italy.

		More reserved.

		And cheaper.

		These welts could have done with another inch.

		Pity about the bullfighting.

		Mmm - serves you right for following a pattern, better when you work it out for yourself.

		Still - not bad.

		Perhaps I'll just pop out for a breath of air - give you a little outing - good idea.

		Bag...bag...

		Coat -

		Yes - it looks great, that stand-up collar. Right...

		You turd.

		You rat.

		Off to the bloody pictures, that's what you were up to!

		And welsh rarebit and a pot of tea after!

		Who do you think's going to look at you, you bloody twerp.

		Bloody stand-up collar and all...

		Get your coat off.

		Now.

		You've got your books.

		You've got your television...your radio.

		You're as greedy as the rest of them - and cunning with it.

		Honestly, you'd fritter the lot.
		Make up your Mind!

		Do you want to go on holiday or don't you?

Sounds as she sits.

		I must have a holiday.

		Something to look forward to.

		Otherwise I can't...

		If only Serie A wasn't on so late.  If I try to video Inter or Latzio I get some porn film.

		Such lovely, lovely men.

		Zidane.

		The Insaghis...Pippo and Simeone.

		Little Raul.  Rivaldo.

		Del Piero!...Alessandro! - face off a Renaissance painting.

		And Figo.

		Luis Figo.

		Portuguese.

		Frightening - a frown like MichelAngelo's David.

		Figo.

		I could just go out for a walk.

		Not take my purse.

		You might feel bad, have to take a taxi - get one of your panics.

		Oh, I feel rough!

		Why?  Why do I feel so rotten all the time?

		Maybe if I had more guts - it's so sore - right across here - right across the liver.

		The area of the firm decision - that's what the Chinks call it.

		"How's life?"

		"That depends upon the liver!"

		Toughen up.

		Stand up to them.

		Look at Madonna!

		Joan Collins!

		Barry Manilow!  Try and put him down he just smiles.

		I should have gone on that course with Phyllis Barnes.

		Her own shop now.

		And you can stop feeling jealous and polish that fire surround before it grows a fur coat.

Sounds as she gets the brasso and rags.  Groans as she gets down.

		Right, fender.

		You're going to get it.

She rubs, humming "Putting on the Ritz" -

		Putting on the Ritz!

		Dada da dada da da da dooper -
		Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper, super-duper -

		That leather seat could do with some beeswax.

		Funny the way soldiers spit on their boots to get a shine.

		You don't have to be that shiny, it's repellent.

Rubs, humming.

		(Snarls suddenly)  Macrobiotic Food!

		He sits there nodding, never gone hungry in his life and I should know I do his credit cards.

		Of Course she can live on lemongrass when he's treating her to fillet steak and salmon three times a week.

		I've a good mind to drop a word in Elaine's ear, there are those little girls to think of.

		Stop it Eileen.

		Jealous and you know it.

		I wish it was me.

		Why didn't I play daft and helpless like the rest of them, instead of working my ass off?

		Why didn't I giggle...laugh at the jokes...show off my tits?

		You have to play your cards.

		I should have Pretended.

		Been cunning, like Odysseus.

		Worn red.

		Nobody ever noticed you.

		I hate them.

		All of them.

		I hate the lot of them.

		No you don't.

		Pull yourself together.

		And watch your back.

		They'll have you out of it.

		I've seen him looking for a way to pay me off, then remembering what a bargain I am.

		If only they'd pull their weight!

		Mad panic by Wednesday, nightmare Thursday...by Friday I think I can't go through this one more week!

		We're understaffed!

		No - not if they worked, if they pulled their weight.

		If anything we're overstaffed.

		Just remember, they'll have you out.

		Don't give them an excuse.

		Be pleasant...friendly.

		If you can't like them for themselves, pretend they're somebody else.

		Somebody lively like Liz Hurley.

		Or Joanna Lumley.

		She'd be there in a crisis.

		Sue Lawley should let you choose a favourite chap to take on the Island - wow!  That wonderful Ian Bostridge who looks like young Lochinvar - I'd knit for him!

		Thomas Allen?

		Bryan Terfel?

		Lovely voices echoing off the trees!

		Gerard Depardieu - oh, he's the one.

		He'd get the vines growing and pull the flotsam off the beach and make salads out of sorrel and garlic.

		Oooh...vive la France!

		Yeah?

		Trouble is - your imagination goes too far, Eileen.

		Be reasonable.

		Stay in the ball park.  Young Jeff could be Keanu Reeves - he's got the twinkle for it - I could pretend Josie's my favourite niece and I have to look out for - well you do that anyway, all she does is misfile.

		And what about Messalina?

		Eileen - cut it out.

		Whether you like it or not she's part of the team.

		Enough bad feeling already - if you don't nip it in the bud - he's as weak as piss.

		Just when you think you're safe, out.

		I wouldn't get placed easily - not now.

		Watch out for yourself, my dear.

		Suck up to the little snake.

		Why should I?

		Why should I have to?

		Listen to rubbish hour after hour - and if it isn't about her, is she listening? - is she hell.

		That's it.

		Flattery.

		Tell her she's gorgeous - puts Catherine Zeta Jones in the shade - best legs in the business - great hair - lovely eyes - amazing bloody beauty spot.

		And listen!

		Nod and smile - look dazzled - I can shut my mind off, it's the same drivel every day all you have to do is say ooh, wonderful - nothing to it.

		After all, she is pretty.

		She is a pretty girl.

She groans.

		I knew there'd be trouble when she came for the interview.

		Funny, I thought it would be Mr Lionel - not Him.

		I keep thinking they're laughing at me!

		Stop poisoning yourself, Eileen.

		Keep thinking she's threatening me, it's got to stop, it's paranoia. 

		No more bad thoughts.

		They're a bunch of kids, you can't expect them to have your experience...loyalty to the job - let's face it, none of us would be doing it by choice.

		Get a healthier attitude.

		You're the senior it's up to you to create the ambience, set the pace.

		Be encouraging, not critical - lead by example.

		Lay back - good grief, I don't suppose one of them gives me a thought once they're out of that door, little devils -

A knock on the door.

		Hullo!  (Going)  Who on earth can that be?

		(Voice distant)  Sorry?  Oh, thank you for bringing it in - thank you...sorry you've been troubled, I'm not expecting anything - thank you.

She returns.

		Some wretched free gift I suppose, well, it goes straight back without a stamp.
		The thing is not to get bitter.

		Keep going - they've made a good job of this wrap - I must show it to Packaging.

		If there IS bad feeling - ask yourself Eileen -

		Is it you?

		Being on your own you imagine so much...(sounds of package being unwrapped)... what on earth's this?

		There must be some mistake.

		Where's the leaflet...it looks like some sort of -

Sound of rustling.

		Oh.

She gasps deeply.  Chair sound as she sits.

		Their idea of a joke, I suppose.

		Now hold on -

		Breathe deep - in...out...in...out...in...

		Oh God!

		So much for good will.

		You bloody fool - when will you learn?

		Oh God.

		You know.  You know what they are - never a day without spite - oh, they'll have had fun dreaming this up.

But she breaks down.

		So mean!

She cries.

		Come on.

		You've got your flat...you've got your set - for God's sake!

She cries.

		You're NOT lonely.

		You've got the library, the whole of the world's literature down the road.

		You're not starving, there's the park.

		There's your holiday... your holi - you've got......

But she sobs.

		Oh, I don't want it...I don't like it!

		Please, I can't bear it any more.

		I don't want it...

		You have to be so brave all the time on your own.

		I'm tired.

		I can't go on fighting.

		I fight every day, I don't give in to it.

		I keep on, I don't give up, but I'm tired!

		I want to go to bed.

		I don't want to wake up any more (she cries)...

		I don't want to wash...

		I don't want to do my teeth...

		I don't want to get dressed any more ...

		I want to stay in bed.

		Please God...

		(Shuddering sobs)  The food churns up inside...

		I can't stand the noise of the traffic...

		You get pushed about on the tube......

		I'm Frightened!

		I can't even go in the lift - I'm too frightened!

		I don't want to go there any more.

		Please God, don't make me!

		They hate me.

Silence.

		What a joke.

		All that stuff about God.

		He's not there.
		What do they want to tell you all that for?  (She sniffs.)  Oh, now look what you've done, you'll have to wash that.  Can't have a snotty cushion.

She tries to laugh but it ends in a sigh.

		It's bad.

		Monday morning!  How can I...?

		Tablets.

Sounds of drawer - tap as she gets a glass of water, clink of glass.

		There.

		I'll take two more tonight, that should black me out.

Rustle of paper as she inspects the gift.

		What a waste of money.

		They've got it to burn - I wish I had the money to play filthy jokes!

		It was her.

		Oh, it was her.

		They'll all have joined in, they'll have had a good laugh but we know whose idea it was - she never leaves it alone!

		Stupid waste.

		I wonder if I could take it back.

		You Would have to tear the box, Eileen.

		That would do them in and turn the tables, talk about the last laugh.

		I've half a mind to do it.

		I know where they bought it, they never stop about the place.

		Marital aids!

		You wouldn't have the nerve to go through the door.

		Probably want me to take a credit note -

		- exchange it for a thong.

		Forget it.  Forget it, Eileen.

		What a shame.

		What a shame.  I bet they aren't cheap.

Rustle of paper as she looks for the price.

		Oh - batteries and all!

Sounds as she puts them in.

		So you put - oh!  (Jumps at the sound of the vibrator.)

		Well I never.

		They've made it a good size - value for money.  Mmmm - (switches it off.)

		Good grief - imagine going about with all that stuck on the front of you.

		I suppose you get used to it.

		Weird though.  "If I were crested, not cloven" - wonderful woman, Queen Elizabeth - Cate Blanchett had a good stab at her.

		Being Australian helps, I daresay.

		Oh Christ, it's Lawrence of Arabia!

The television is switched on.  The Maurice Jarre music.

		Ahh!  Stunning!  Never mind the music, Eileen ...the desert!...oh, it makes you feel...and Peter O'Toole...magic!

Music.

		What a useless thing.

		Honestly, I do hate waste.

She turns on the vibrator.  Screen music.

		I wonder how long the battery lasts.

		Wonderful desert......

Sound of vibrator, louder, against the music.

		Oh, Peter......

		(Squeals)  Ooh!

		Ah!  Peter!

		Well I never!...

Music increase in volume.

		Oh. Eileen...

		Peter!

		Oh!

		Oh, Eileen!!!  Eileen!!

		Ahh!!!!

Music, loud.