Mr Bailey's Minder Read online

  Mr Bailey's Minder

  Debra Oswald

  Currency Press • Sydney

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Playwright’s Biography

  First Production

  Acknowledgements

  Characters

  Setting

  Act One

  Scene One

  Scene Two

  Scene Three

  Scene Four

  Act Two

  Scene One

  Scene Two

  Scene Three

  www.currencypress.com.au

  CURRENCY PLAYS

  First published in 2005 by

  Currency Press Pty Ltd

  PO Box 2287

  Strawberry Hills NSW 2012

  www.currencypress.com.au

  [email protected]

  Copyright © Debra Oswald, 2004, 2005.

  First electronic edition published in 2012 by Currency Press Pty Ltd.

  Copying for Educational Purposes

  The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10% of this book, whichever is the greater, to be copied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that that educational institution (or the body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act. For details of the CAL licence for educational institutions contact CAL, Level 15, 233 Castlereagh Street, Sydney NSW, 2000. Tel: (02) 9394 7600; email: [email protected]

  Copying for Other Purposes

  Except as permitted under the Act, for example a fair dealing for the purposes of study, research, criticism or review, all rights are reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  Performance Rights

  Any performance or public reading of Mr Bailey’s Minder is forbidden unless a licence has been received from the author or the author’s agent. The purchase of this book in no way gives the purchaser the right to perform the play in public, whether by means of a staged production or a reading. All applications for public performance should be addressed to RGM, PO Box 128, Surry Hills, NSW, 2010, Australia; email: [email protected]; ph: +612 9281 3911

  Printed book ISBN: 9780868197616

  ePub ISBN: 9781921429637

  Set by Dean Nottle. Cover design by Kate Florance, Currency Press. Front cover shows Kate Mulvany as Therese and Martin Vaughan as Leo in the 2004 Griffin Theatre production. (Photo: Robert Mcfarlane)

  Playwright’s Biography

  DEBRA OSWALD is a writer for stage, film, television and children’s fiction. Her stage plays have been produced around Australia. Gary’s House, Sweet Road and The Peach Season were all shortlisted for the NSW Premier’s Award. Her play Dags has had many Australian productions and has been published and performed in Britain and the United States. Gary’s House has been on the senior high school syllabus, and has been performed in translation in both Denmark and Japan. The Peach Season won the 2005 Seaborn Playwright’s Prize. Mr Bailey’s Minder broke the Griffin Theatre’s box office record in 2004, toured nationally in 2006, and was produced in Philadelphia in 2008.

  Debra has written two plays for atyp (Australian Theatre for Young People). Skate was performed in Sydney, on a NSW country tour and at the Belfast Theatre Festival. Stories in the Dark premiered at Riverside Theatre Parramatta in 2007. House on Fire premiered at atyp in 2010. She is the author of three ‘Aussie Bite’ books for kids, including Nathan and the Ice Rockets, and five novels for teenage readers: Me and Barry Terrific, The Return of the Baked Bean, The Fifth Quest, The Redback Leftovers and Getting Air.

  Among Debra’s television credits are Bananas in Pyjamas, Sweet and Sour, Palace of Dreams, The Secret Life of Us and award-winning episodes of Police Rescue. She is the writer and creator of Offspring, and her script for the telemovie won the 2011 NSW Premier’s Award.

  FIRST PRODUCTION

  Mr Bailey’s Minder was first produced by Griffin Theatre Company in association with Riverina Theatre Company at the SBW Stables Theatre, Kings Cross, Sydney, on 29 July 2004, with the following cast:

  MARGO Victoria Longley

  THERESE Kate Mulvany

  GAVIN / KARL Andy Rodoreda

  LEO BAILEY Martin Vaughan

  Director, Christopher Hurrell

  Designer, Jo Briscoe

  Lighting Designer, Stephen Hawker

  Music and Sound Designer, Basil Hogios

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Debra Oswald would like to thank Christopher Hurrell, Michael Wynne, Richard Glover, Karen Oswald, Gillian Higginson, Kerry Laurence, Amanda Higgs, David Middlebrook, David Berthold, Griffin Theatre, Riverina Theatre Company, Currency Press, the cast and creative team of the 2004 production.

  CHARACTERS

  THERESE, mid 20s

  MARGO, late 30s

  LEO BAILEY, late 60s

  GAVIN, 30s

  KARL, about 30

  The play is written for four performers.

  The roles of Gavin and Karl should be played by the same actor.

  SETTING

  Leo Bailey’s house.

  For Nick Nickelby with much love.

  ACT ONE

  SCENE ONE

  Leo Bailey’s house is a fabulous, precarious, ramshackle, brightly-coloured construction. It’s built into the cliff with part of a wall and floor chiselled out of the rock face. The rest of the structure is made up of unlikely materials tacked together—old ferry doors, church windows, car bonnets, packing crates. Most surfaces are spattered with thick gobs of paint. There are many adapted and bowerbirded items, including New Guinea artefacts. A narrow, wonky staircase leads to the upper floor.

  There are a couple of large paintings that have had paint thrown all over them, obliterating the original image.

  There are empty bottles and plates with half-rotten food strewn around the house.

  MARGO ushers THERESE in from the front door. MARGO is in her late thirties, wearing expensive business clothes.

  MARGO: Watch your step. Foot’s just as likely to go straight through a rotten board.

  THERESE is in her mid twenties, a bit of a scrag, boisterous, defensive, volatile. She carries two cheap sportsbags.

  Did the employment agency explain what the job is?

  THERESE: Yeah. Well, y’know, they said—

  MARGO: I don’t want to waste my time and yours if you’re not serious.

  THERESE: Oh no, no, I’m serious. I mean, I want the job, if you want me.

  MARGO: You realise you would have to live here full-time?

  THERESE: Yep. Yep. Is that the door off a ferry?

  MARGO: There’ve been magazine articles about the house if you’re interested. You would have to live here as is. My father won’t have anything changed.

  THERESE: Yeah. Whatever.

  MARGO: Water runs down the wall when it rains.

  THERESE: Is that real rock or fake rock?

  MARGO: That wall is the cliff face.

  THERESE: Yeah? It’s up so high, eh. View’s incredible. The harbour and all those rich dickheads’ boats tied up out there—

  THERESE rouses on herself under her breath, wanting to control her mouth.

  MARGO: Have you got a resume? References?

  THERESE: Oh, yeah.

  MARGO flicks through the papers THERESE hands her.

  I’m not a nurse or anything so if you need like an actual nurse, I�
�m not.

  MARGO: My father can’t stand having a nurse in the house. But he needs a live-in carer. We tried having people come in on a daily basis but he was up half the night setting fire to things.

  THERESE: Is he mental? Oh—s’pose it sounds rude, asking straight out like that.

  MARGO: You need to know if you’ll be the one cleaning up the vomit.

  THERESE: Cleaned up bucketloads of vomit in my time.

  She laughs. MARGO looks at her.

  Oh—I mean—I’ve had a few friends who—well, not so much friends as—I’m just saying I’m not fazed by stuff like vomit.

  THERESE curses herself for losing control of her mouth.

  MARGO: Leo has alcohol-related dementia. Aggravated by various sub-dural haematomas from falling down various sets of stairs when drunk. Also chronic obstructive airways disease, chronic alcoholic hepatitis, cirrhosis of the liver and ulcers. He’s a wet-brain.

  THERESE: Okay… so is he out somewhere right now?

  MARGO: He doesn’t leave the house anymore. Except for visits to medical specialists.

  [She bellows towards the stairs.] Leo! Come out! Come and meet—!

  She looks at the references.

  THERESE: Therese.

  MARGO: Therese!

  No response.

  He’s hiding.

  THERESE glances nervously at the papers in MARGO’s hands.

  THERESE: Look, if you wanna know how come I left the last job, the guy was a total arsehole. Some mongrels’ll never give you a decent go. The guy had it in for me—

  MARGO: I’m really not interested—

  LEO: [yelling down the stairs] Get out! Get out of my house!

  THERESE: Oh—uh—should I—?

  MARGO: He’s talking to me, not you.

  LEO: I can hear you! I can hear you down there, you lying bitch!

  MARGO: [to THERESE] It’s me.

  THERESE looks at pictures up high on the wall.

  THERESE: He’s a famous artist, right? He did those paintings?

  MARGO: Well, they’re the remains of murals. He threw tins of house paint on the parts lower down. Up there, he couldn’t reach.

  THERESE: Does he do it anymore?

  MARGO: He stopped several years ago. Even back then, he was only doing the odd scribble when he needed cash.

  THERESE screws up her face at the pictures, embarrassed.

  THERESE: I don’t know what’s supposed to be good or—

  MARGO: The man you’d be looking after is a drunk, not an artist. You don’t need to know anything for this job.

  THERESE: [indicating the resume] Are you gonna ring the employers on there?

  MARGO: Well, I don’t know if I’ll ring any—

  THERESE: You’ve gotta ring them. I know that’s how it works. But if you ring that second guy, don’t believe a word that comes out of his poxy, lying mouth. He’ll badmouth me and—But hey—not one person’d tell you I ever bashed up old guys or anything like that. Fuck. Switch off your mouth, Therese.

  MARGO: I don’t think you’re going to have—

  THERESE: You don’t think I’m right for the job. Big surprise. Why did you bother getting me to come down here, if you were never gonna—? Ohhh… I better just go.

  THERESE grabs her bags.

  MARGO: Look, Ms Laurence—

  THERESE: Hey. I wasn’t asking anyone to do me any favours.

  MARGO: I wasn’t planning to do you any favours.

  THERESE: Yeah, der. People like you always reckon—Oh, bugger it, I’ll get out of your way. [She starts to leave again.] I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to the job people about me stuffing this up.

  MARGO: Well, I was actually hoping to—

  THERESE: Yeah? It’s your business. I can’t stop you. I was asking you to give me a break but if you want to be a total bitch about it then fuck it. [She turns to go but then spins back.] I dunno why you think you can look down your nose at me. I mean, you’re the one who wants to pay a total stranger to look after your dad. Jesus.

  There are hissing noises from the stairs.

  LEO: Viper!

  THERESE jumps in fright but MARGO is matter-of-fact.

  MARGO: If you want to meet Therese, you’d better hurry. She says she’s leaving.

  LEO comes down the stairs. He is in his late sixties, rheumy-eyed, with a face battered and bloated by years of boozing. He’s wearing grubby pyjamas.

  LEO: [to THERESE] Step away from her. Very slowly and calmly. They can smell fear.

  THERESE: Sorry?

  LEO: Viper! She’s a viper! Step away from her!

  MARGO: This is Leo Bailey.

  THERESE: Hi. I’m Therese.

  LEO circles MARGO, making snake hissing noises. MARGO ignores him and goes through papers in her briefcase.

  LEO: Did The Viper tell you she works in investment banking? Investment banking! The dead hand. Feast your eyes! She’s a dried-up bitch. Have you asked her why she’s got no children?

  THERESE: Uh…

  LEO: Because she’s a dried-up bitch—I just told you! She had one grotesque marriage to a shrivelled-up loser of a bloke and she couldn’t even hang onto him. Ask her why.

  THERESE: None of my business, really.

  LEO grabs Therese’s bags and thrusts them into her hands.

  LEO: Hang onto your purse. Soon as you look away, she’s pinching stuff. Oh yes, oh yes. Ask The Viper where she’s hiding all my paintings she stole!

  MARGO: Ask me.

  THERESE: Oh, right. Where are all the paintings you stole?

  MARGO: I’ve never stolen any paintings.

  THERESE: Right.

  LEO crumbles into incoherent muttering, retreating to a corner. MARGO hands THERESE back her resume.

  MARGO: Okay then.

  THERESE: I’ll bugger off and you can interview the other desperates.

  MARGO: The other desperates weren’t interested. I meant ‘Okay then, the job’s yours’.

  THERESE: Oh.

  MARGO sees THERESE’s stunned mullet expression.

  MARGO: Do you want the job? If anything’s changed your mind, tell me now before—

  THERESE: Uh—yeah. I mean, no I haven’t changed my mind. Y’know—Yes, I want the job.

  MARGO: I’m due at an appointment so I can’t go through everything with you now. Do you need time to move out from where you are?

  THERESE: No. No. Ready to roll.

  MARGO: You don’t need to collect the rest of your luggage?

  THERESE: No. This is it.

  MARGO glances at Therese’s two pathetic bags then gets a folder of papers out of her briefcase.

  MARGO: Information about doctors’ appointments and medications. Bills are paid through my office. An agency nurse will come Sundays nine to four to give you a day off. It’s a different one every time so do your best to fill them in. Anyway, it’s all in there. [Her mobile phone rings and she looks at the display.] Look, any questions you really can’t sort out on your own, leave a message with my assistant. Okay?

  THERESE: Okay. And, y’know, don’t worry or anything. I can work things out.

  MARGO: I’m sure.

  THERESE: And thanks for—y’know—

  MARGO jerks an awkward smile and leaves, answering her mobile phone. THERESE takes a deep breath. LEO peers at her from his corner. THERESE starts tidying up the room.

  LEO: You’re an art student.

  THERESE: No.

  LEO: They tried that. Getting art students in here. ‘Ooh, Mr Bailey, you’re so brilliant.’ Nauseating.

  THERESE: I’m not an art student.

  LEO: Overseas student. Backpacker. You don’t sound foreign.

  THERESE: Not unless you count Cessnock as foreign.

  LEO: Aaahhh… you’re a penniless writer.

  THERESE: No.

  LEO: I know. I know. You’re a—

  THERESE: I’m Therese. I’m not anything.

  LEO snatches a plate of half-eaten food from THERESE�
�s hand.

  LEO: Oy, I’m still eating that.

  THERESE: Give us a break. There’s hairy stuff growing on it.

  LEO grumble, but lets her take it.

  LEO: You look nothing like my third wife. She was a flame-haired goddess.

  THERESE: Third wife?

  LEO: I married five of the most beautiful women in Australia.

  THERESE: Five?

  LEO: Women who could have had any man they wanted. They picked me. I don’t find you attractive at all.

  THERESE: Yeah? Bingo. I don’t find you attractive either. So that’s lucky, eh?

  LEO: What? What are you squawking about? You’ve got an ugly voice. Ugly.

  THERESE: It’s lucky because this arrangement wouldn’t work if we were hot for each other.

  LEO: My wife was a hot woman. Like sleeping next to an open fire.

  THERESE: Maybe it was something to do with being a flame-haired goddess.

  LEO: Not that wife! The one before! Are you stupid stupid stupid?

  THERESE: Hey. Don’t give me shit, Leo. Are you this nasty to everyone? Not surprised you’re on your own.

  LEO grabs paint and a brush. He daubs a family tree on a wall or window pane.

  LEO: How many times do I have to go through this? First I married Phyllis. Children: Margo. Second wife—

  THERESE: Margo who was here before?

  LEO: The Viper, yes. [Painting odd letters and symbols] Second wife: Patricia. Three children: Henry, Greta, Roland. Wife number three—