Archive of Our Own ^beta

Act 1

Scene 1

David, the milkman, is making a delivery to the Steven house. As he sets the bottles of milk down on the front steps, Jemima Steven opens the door to greet him.

Jemima. Hello, David.

David. (stands up, startled) Oh! Miss Jemima, you startled me. I’ve just, uh, delivered you your three pints.

Jemima. Semi-skimmed?

David. A- As always, Madam.

Jemima. (hint of a smile) Very nice.

Mr. Steven. (calling from inside) Who’s that at the door, Jemima?

Jemima. (over her shoulder, mood seemingly dampened) Just David, the milkman.

Mr. Steven. Oh, how is he?

Jemima. (to David) How are you?

David. Alright, you know, early start as always, you know, milkmen.

Jemima. (back to Mr. Steven) Alright, you know, as always, early start as milkmen.

Jemima’s young son walks up to the doorway next to her, not quite coming up to her shoulders, due to being on his knees.

David. All right there, little Peter, how you doin’?

Jemima begins running her fingers through Peter’s hair.

Peter. Oh! I’m doing fine.

Jemima. Peter.

Peter. Aah?

Jemima. I said go and play PlayStation, didn’t I?

Peter. I wanted to go outside, and be a healthy child!

Jemima. (shakes her head) We’ve got a back garden for that, Peter.

Peter. Oh..

Jemima. But someone dug it up with their toys, didn’t they?

Peter. Ohh, I did do that, ‘cause I’m a scamp.

David. (crouches down to Peter’s level) Don’t worry, Peter. I did the same thing when I was your age.

Peter. Ahaha!

David. What kind of toys you got? You got a digger?

Peter. Yeah, I use it to dig things up, like the back garden.

David. Ah! Did you find anything exciting?

Peter. Oh, I did.

David. What’d you find?

Peter. I found a condom.

David. Oh! That’s a big word for a boy your age.

Peter. I know, it’s got two syllable-bles!

David. (standing up straight) Adorable.

Jemima. (to Peter) Off you go.

Peter. (running outside) Oh, yayy!

Jemima. No, wrong way, wrong way! Back in the house, thank you!

Peter stops running and turns around to reluctantly go back inside. On his way back, he bumps the milk bottles on the steps.

David. Mind the milk, son, mind the milk.

Peter. One day I’ll go outside.. (goes back inside)

David. Strapping lad you got there.

Jemima. A condom he found, David. A condom.

A crash is heard. Jemima and David turn their attention towards it.

Peter. Ow! I’ve been hurt in the garden!

Mr. Steven. (from inside) I’m coming, Son, I’m coming!

Jemima. I said play PlayStation, don’t go in garden!

Peter. Oh, sorry Mum!

Jemima. (turning back to David) A condom, David. You told me you left no evidence.

David. I’m sorry, Miss Jemima. You’re the one who insisted I wear one.

Jemima. (jaw drops, appalled) Well, of course I fucking did, David. I don’t need any more evidence like that little one in there. (points in toward the house)

Mr. Steven comes up to the door.

Mr. Steven. Hiya, Jeffrey!

Jemima. (caught off guard) Hi- Oh, oh!

David. Hiya, how are you?

The men shake hands.

Mr. Steven. Good to see you. Looking well, eh?

David picks up the case of milk bottles, handing it to Mr. Steven.

David. Good, yeah, got your semi-skimmed for you.

Mr. Steven. (takes the case and puts his arm around David’s back) Oh, as usual?

David. There you go, two lovely jugs-

Mr. Steven. You mean-

David. I mean pints.

Mr. Steven. Yeah. How’s your mother?

David. She’s well, she’s well. 

Mr. Steven. Yeah, good.

David. You know, her hips, you know, still playing up a little bit-

Mr. Steven. Yeah?

David. -but we got her to the old physio.

Mr. Steven. Brilliant. Tough lady, different, uh- different generation.

David. That’s how mothers work.

Mr. Steven. Yeah. Very tough, you know, they could get through the most horrible things, that generation. Truly. (takes arm from around him and goes back toward the door) They were just very, uh- down to earth, honest people, weren’t they? If there was an issue, if there were secrets, they would just tell people. They didn’t give a fuck. Sorry, excuse my language.

David. That’s alright, you know, milkmen, you know, part of the trade.

Mr. Steven. Yeah. Just like you, mate. You’re just like her. (pats David on the back) Good lad. Right.

David. Still got that conference this weekend?

Jemima glares at him, motioning for him to shut up while her husband isn't looking at her.

Mr. Steven. Sorry?

David. Nothing.

Jemima smiles up at her husband as if nothing happened.

Mr. Steven. Oh, the conference?

David. Yeah, I just- Your wife, when I was dropping off the milk yesterday, said you’ve got a big conference down in London.

Mr. Steven. Yeah, going off to London, I am. Look at me, eh?

Jemima. Yeah.

Mr. Steven. Look at me, eh?

Mr. Steven wraps his arm around Jemima and she returns the gesture.

Jemima. To London.

David. Two days.

Mr. Steven. Yeah, two days. Two-

David. Nice.

Mr. Steven. Two days without this one. (smiles down at Jemima)

David. I’ll make sure to.. bring your wife some milk.

Mr. Steven. Please do, keep her fed.

David. Oh, I will.

Mr. Steven. Right, I’m gonna be, uh, upstairs getting ready, okay?

Jemima. Alright.

Mr. Steven. I love you. (kisses her temple)

Jemima. I love you, too.

Mr. Steven. (once more, to David) Good lad. (goes inside)

Jemima. (sighs) I don’t know why he always called you Jeffrey. Your name is David, he calls you by your last name. I’m sorry, it’s so impersonal.

David. It’s alright, it’s alright, you know.. (vague hand motions) part of the trade. No one really remembers the milkman’s name.

Jemima. (steps toward him, suddenly serious) We’re playing a risky fucking game.

David. (steps closer to her, putting a hand to the side of her face) I know we’re playing a risky fucking game-

Jemima. Listen- (pushes him away) Stop it, not here! Too many eyes! (strange hand motions behind her)

David. (smiles, holding back a laugh) 

Jemima. What?

David. (mimics her motion) How many eyes?

Jemima. (slightly more distinct, numbering hand motions) Two plus two, four! (firmly) Keep it under control.

David. He’s away for the whole weekend, then?

Jemima. Aye.

David. Wanna come and have a ride on the float?

A pause as Jemima looks out to the side, cracking a smile

Jemima. (turns back to him) Can I jingle the bell?

David. You know you can. (more seductive) It goes real slow, that float.

Jemima. Oh.. I like it slow. (her chest rises and falls with her rapid breathing)

David. (stepping closer to her again) Oh, I know you do. It’s really good at getting in all the tight nooks and crannies in this village. It’s got quite a small width, but.. surprising length.

Jemima. My boy could be listening, you- (sets head against her hand)

David. He’s upstairs, love.

Jemima. I can’t trust him, he’s often out in the garden. And I know we keep it to-

David. Hey, well, I know you say your boy..

Pause.

Jemima. Don’t. (shakes her head firmly) Don’t, we’ve had this conversation.

David. Does he like the digger I got him?

Pause.

Jemima. Aye.

David. Who did you say it was from?

Jemima. (hesitant) Santa.

David. Santa. It’s fucking July! (momentarily puts his head in his hand) Every time I see him and he runs up next to your knee, I can see my eyes in his eyes. And not just ‘cause of those fucking thick glasses he’s got. (mimes glasses on his face)

Jemima. I love your glasses. Dead sexy.

David. He’s never gonna know, is he?

Jemima. Sorry, we made our choices a long time ago.

David. What if we were wrong? (closes some distance between them, repeating himself in a whisper) What if we were wrong?

Jemima. (shakes head repeatedly) No, no! (puts finger to David’s mouth) No. That boy needs to grow up in a stable home.

David. Milk is stable.

Jemima. (shakes head) It perishes. Quite quickly! Especially if you leave it out in the open!

David. We could get some of that extra long-life stuff. Condensed milk.

Jemima. That is not what you sell, and you know it.

David. I know!

David steps back just in time for Mr. Steven to come back down.

Mr. Steven. Alright, love, I’m off to work. I’ll see you later. (gives her a hug)

David. Oh, right on.

Jemima. Goodbye, darling.

Mr. Steven. (kisses her temple again) Alright. Little one? (looks back for Peter)

Peter. (coming to the door) Oh! My bedroom’s so small.

Mr. Steven. Right, you’re coming with, then?

Peter. Oh, I’m-

Jemima. You’re not taking Steven with you.

David. Peter.

Peter. My name’s Peter! Why are you using my surname, Mum? Peter Steven is my full name.

Mr. Steven. I just thought-

Jemima. Your teacher said you were misbehaving at school and to bring the discipline of school into home. (leaning down to him) So Steven, your last name, it is, until you behave mister, okay?

Mr. Steven. Alright, well listen, you listen to your mother, alright. I’m gonna go to work and I’ll- I’ll see you later.

Jemima. (jokingly) I will listen to my mother. She’s got- She talks sense, that woman.

Mr. Steven goes to get into his car.

Jemima. (to Peter) You listen to your mother.

Peter. I will, Steven.

Jemima. No! I called you by your surname.

Peter. But it’s your surname, too.

Jemima. I know! You just call me Mum.

Mr. Steven. (calling from the car, with a ‘come here’ motion) Darling, can I borrow you just for a second with the car?

Jemima. With-?

Mr. Steven. Just two seconds, can I borrow you within the car?

Jemima. With the car?

Mr. Steven. No, it’s just something for the car.

Jemima. You- You’ve got the car.

Mr. Steven. I know I’ve got the car.

Jemima. What-

Mr. Steven. I was just- Yeah, just- I just want to-

Peter. Mum, I think you should stop being so difficult for no reason.

David. Hey, Peter, don’t-

Mr. Steven. (shouting) WOULD YOU HURRY UP?

Jemima. Alright! (pointing to Peter) Stay there!

Peter. Sorry, Mum!

Jemima. (walking down the front steps) Chat to nice Mr. Jeffreys. 

Peter. I will do.

Jemima. David. (nods at him)

Jemima meets Mr. Steven at the car, leaving Peter and David to talk one-on-one. David opens his mouth as if to say something to her, but is interrupted.

Peter. Hello- Hello, David.

David. (turns back to him and leans down to his height) Hiya, Peter.

Peter. (walks a couple steps closer to be in the doorway) I wanted to play in the garden and they won’t let me.

David. I know.

Peter. They say I’ve got to play PS5 and I don’t want to. No kid will choose the PS5 over the fun and rambunctiousness of running around the village.

David. (puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder) You like running around the village, do you?

Peter. (excitedly) Oh, I do. I wish I could run ever so slightly faster, but not much faster. (puts his hand on top of David’s) And that I could carry a series of dairy products whilst I did it.

David takes his hand away. He instead places it on his own chest as he turns away, attempting to get his emotions under control.

Peter. Sometimes, I get six to twelve Babybels, and I put them in a sack on my back, and I run around. (mimes running) But then Mum says ‘no, get back inside.’

David. (turns back around, somewhat composed) Peter, that’s- Peter, that’s one hell of a dream you’ve got there, kid. (leans down to him again) You’ve got the makings of a real milkman in you.

Peter. Oh, I could never. (playfully hits him on the shoulder) That’s a family trade.

David takes another moment to process.

Peter. And my dad is an unspecified businessman. That’s what I’ll do when I grow up. I’ll have a briefcase and a car, and a series of conferences in various cities. (smiles at David)

David. You know, you still got a long time to grow up, maybe uh- this weekend you could come for a ride in the- in the float with me.

Peter. Oh, well, I’m going off to boarding school soon.

David. What?!

Peter. Aye!

David. Boarding school?

Peter. Aye, I won’t be around here any longer. I suppose I won’t see as much of you anymore.

David. (hurt audible in his words) Guess not..

Peter. Oh.

David. Peter, there’s something I want you to have.

Peter. Okay, bye! (turns to go inside)

David. (stands straight) No, Peter, no, wait, Peter-

Peter. Oh, sorry! (turns back)

David. There’s something I want you to have.

Peter. Oh, I thought you-

David. What do you- What did you thought I said?

Peter. (makes a shrug-adjacent motion) I’ve got ADHD. It’s all the PS5, you know.

David picks up a milk bottle he had sitting behind him and brings it to Peter.

David. (leans down) This here-

Peter. I’m the God of war! (quickly quietens down) Sorry.

David. This here, (sets the milk down in front of Peter) that’s Jersey Gold, that is. That is the best milk that England can produce.

Peter picks up the milk.

David. It’s for you.

Peter. (confused) Me?

David. I want you to hold onto that through all your years at boarding school.

Peter. (pointing to the bottle cap) Should I open it?

David. No, no. (holds hand out to stop him) You keep that sealed. You keep that, and whenever you think about it, you remember your old pal, the milkman.

Peter. Feels like quite a lot to- (pause) Yeah, of course.

David. I lov- (stops himself) I like seeing you every day, Peter.

Peter. (copying) Well, I lov-like seeing you too.

David. Don’t be s- Don’t be smart with me.

Peter. Oh- (shakes head) I’m never smart.

Scene 2

Mr. Steven shows up for his work conference in London, holding his briefcase. Two Londoner employees of the company are in the room waiting for him.

Coworker #1. (sees Mr. Steven walking in) Aah! Good to see you at this conference! (holds hand out to shake)

Mr. Steven. Sorry, my briefcase (moves it into his left hand, and using his right to shake his coworker’s) Hiya.

Coworker #1. (grabs Mr. Steven’s wrist so he’s shaking with both hands) Great to have you. (lets go of his hand) Remind me of your name again?

Mr. Steven. Uh.. Oh, um- Uh, uh-

Coworker #2. (enters the conference room) Ah, Steven, right? Steven! Mr. Steven!

Mr. Steven. Yeah.

Coworker #2. Good to have you down here in London, the Big Old Smoke.

Mr. Steven. (awkwardly) Yeah, great. How are you lads? How’s- You alright?

Coworker #1. (about his accent) Ah, listen to him! (laughs) Refreshing!

Coworker #2. It’s like something out of Game of Thrones!

Both coworkers laugh.

Mr. Steven. Good show that, yeah.

Coworker #2. Shut up! (goes to sit down)

Coworker #1. (mimicking the northern accent) “Winter is coming.” 

Coworker #1 laughs some more as Mr. Steven uncomfortably nods along.

Coworker #1. I meant to say, man, seriously, (slaps a hand on Mr. Steven’s shoulder) it was really good to connect with all the business around the country. Yeah?

Mr. Steven. Yes, absolutely.

Coworker #1. Yeah? (takes his hand down)

They both suddenly take notice of the third man in the room.

Coworker #3. I’m- I just take notes.

Mr. Steven. Alright, uh, so yeah, in fact I’ve got a room. Apparently you’ve booked me a room in-

Coworker #1. Holiday Inn!

Mr. Steven. Oh, right. Oh. I thought all the company was staying in the- (motions vaguely outside)

Coworker #3. I- I was asked to do yours on booking.com. 

Mr. Steven. Well, that’s fine. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.

Coworker #1. Is there a problem?

Mr. Steven. No. No problem at all. I’m just a- just a man with a job and a briefcase. (lifts it up slightly for emphasis)

Coworker #1. (points at him) You’re not just a man! You’re our junior associate (pats his chest a few times) and representative up north.

Mr. Steven. (not feeling any better) That’s wonderful. That’s great.

Coworker #3. (leans in to Coworker #1) Sir, the- the meeting for senior associates, it’s just about to begin.

Coworker #1. Oh yeah, that’s me. (smiles proudly at Mr. Steven)

Mr. Steven. (reaches out a hand) You have a good meeting, Sir.

Coworker #1. I will, yeah. (takes and firmly shakes his hand)

Mr. Steven. See you in the next couple of days.

Coworker #1. (still shaking) Aha! Firm handshake!

Mr. Steven. Yeah.

Coworker #1. It’s important, you need to get one! (pause as they keep shaking) Alright?

Mr. Steven. Oh, sorry. (tries to let go, only to be held tighter)

Coworker #1. Don’t let go first!

Mr. Steven. Oh, Jesus.

Coworker #1. It’s a challenge.

Mr. Steven. Aagh-

Coworker #1. Letting go first is a weakness!

Mr. Steven. (pained noises)

Coworker #1. (lets go) You’ll get it. (grabs him from the back of his head) You’ll fucking get it. (walks away)

Coworker #3. I- I’m so sorry. (goes to sit down, before stopping himself) Oh, they’ve taken all the chairs again.

Scene 3

David pulls into his driveway after his day at work. He steps out of the float and closes the door.

Mrs. Jeffreys. (calling out from inside) Son?

David. (surprised to be hearing her already) Mum?

Mrs. Jeffreys. Is that you?

David. Yeah, Mum, I’m home.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Why’re you-

David. Let me just park the float.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Turn the lights on!

David. (walking up to the front door) Mum, I-

Mrs. Jeffreys. Turn the bloody lights on!

David. I’m not in the house yet, Mum!

Mrs. Jeffreys. What?

David. I’m not in the house yet!

Mrs. Jeffreys. Oh, okay.

David puts the key in the lock and opens the door, flicking the light switch as he steps inside.

David. Why are you here in the dark, Mum? Your hip, sit down, come on! (sets a chair down in front of her)

Mrs. Jeffreys. Have you turned the lights on?

David. I’ve turned the lights on.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Oh, you have.

David. You’re just fucking blind.

Mrs. Jeffreys. You know, I- I was just watching a, uh-

David. How were you watching?

Mrs. Jeffreys. What? On the TV, Son!

David. You can’t fucking see, Mum!

Mrs. Jeffreys. You can see a television in the dark! (pause) You fucking can.

David. So you’re not a- (breaking the fourth wall) Okay, we’ve established that you’re not actually blind, let’s just move on.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Oh right, that’s what you- Okay.

David. Yeah.

Mrs. Jeffreys. (sits down in the chair, facing away from David) I used to be blind.. at the beginning of the scene. But no longer. (back in character, puts head in hands) Oh, no, so I was watching something on TV.

David. Yeah, Mum?

Mrs. Jeffreys. (lifts head) It was one of those shows.

David. That’s what they have on TV.

Mrs. Jeffreys. You know, the ones about lineage, and how somebody goes back.

David. You mean like Who Do You Think You Are?

Mrs. Jeffreys. No, no..

David. Alright. What one were you thinking of?

Mrs. Jeffreys. I don’t like that, that’s a terrible show. Who Do You Think- No, that’s the- that’s the one- that’s the, uh, with Paul Merton.

David. No. That’s Have I Got News For You. Who Do You Think You Are is when they get a celebrity and they trace their lineage.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Oh, and they- and they put you, and they dunk you in the, uh-

David. No, no. That’s Live And Kicking.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Oh.

David. That’s not been on for twenty years.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Anyway, anyway, I was watching it and it was-

David. What was it called?

Mrs. Jeffreys. It was called (pauses to think) Oo’s Yer Dad?

David raises his eyebrows, amused.

Mrs. Jeffreys. It was incredible! (stands up) It was talking about all these people-

David. (supporting her back) Mum, your hip.

Mrs. Jeffreys. (sitting back down) Sorry. (resumes) Going back. And they go up to them, and they go (arms reaching in front of her) ‘Oo’s yer dad?’

David pours and takes a sip of a drink, preparing for a story.

Mrs. Jeffreys. And they go ‘Oh, it’s this guy over here’. And they go to the next per- they go to them and they go (arms outstretched again) ‘Oo’s yer dad?’

David. Where are you going with this, Mum?

Mrs. Jeffreys. Well, I’m just saying, it goes back. They went all the way back (motions behind her) in time.

David squints his eyes in doubt.

Mrs. Jeffreys. They moved into kind of a recreational thing. (cyclical hand gesture)

David. (crosses arms) How far back did they go?

Mrs. Jeffreys. Uh, the beginning of time. (looks distantly at nothing) It turns out, we’ve all got the same.. (matter-of-factly) dad.

There’s a pause and Mrs. Jeffreys does an incorrect variation of the sign of the cross by going back to the forehead at the end of motion.

David. Alright.

Mrs. Jeffreys. (turns to David) Anyway, how have you been? What have you been doing? How’s the milk?

David. All delivered as always, Mum.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Oh, great. Uh, you know, your father used to be a milkman.

David. Yes, I do know. I don’t need to be on that show, I know who my dad is.

Mrs. Jeffreys. (reaches her arms out to him) Oo’s yer dad??

David. (pointing to the photo on the wall behind him) Him.

Mrs. Jeffreys. Aye.

David. God rest his soul.

Mrs. Jeffreys. God rest his soul. Yeah, he was a good- good man.

David. Do you think I’d be a good dad, Mum?

Mrs. Jeffreys. You?

David. Yeah.

Mrs Jeffreys. (stands up and takes his face in her hands) Let me have a look.

David. Mum, your hip! 

David guides her back down with his hands on her shoulders and leans down for her to put her hand on his.

Mrs. Jeffreys. I know that if you had a son-

David. Yeah.

Mrs. Jeffreys. -just like me.

David. Y- Just like you?

Mrs. Jeffreys. (clarifying) I have a son.

David. Oh, right. Sorry. If I had a son who was just like you, I’d be deeply concerned.

Mrs. Jeffreys. I have a son, your dad-

David. Yeah, no, I’m your son. (points to the painting) That was your husband. Mum, you’re getting confused.

Mrs. Jeffreys puts her head in her hand, rubbing her forehead.

David. I’m your son. (points) That’s dad, he’s dead.

Mrs. Jeffreys. (looking up at him again) Yeah.

David. I’m saying, do you think I’d be a good father, Mum?

(pause)

Mrs. Jeffreys. I’m saying-

David hangs his head in resignation.

Mrs. Jeffreys. (pats the back of his head and tries to formulate a sentence) Just like.. You, uh, you- (gives up) Yes, you’d be fucking good.

Scene 4

Peter is at boarding school. Next to him sits a fellow student who appears to be trembling in fear.

Peter. (begins singing) ~The sun’ll come out, tomorrow! Bet your bottom dollar that- ~

Headmistress. SILENCE! (pacing back and forth behind the two) We don’t allow joy at boarding school. You’re new here, aren’t you, boy?

Peter. Aye.

Classmate. (whispering urgently) Don’t look at her! Don’t. Look.

Headmistress. Steven, isn’t it? Peter Steven.

Peter. Who knows at this point?

Headmistress. I do, for I have the register here. (takes it out from behind her back)

Peter. Oh, good. Can I have a look?

Headmistress. (holds up the register for Peter to read, pointing to his name) Peter Steven.

Peter. That really helps, thank you.

The headmistress puts the register away and continues pacing.

Classmate. (whispering) Just do whatever she says. Okay?

Peter. Oh, okay. (picks up the milk) I’m gonna hold on to my bottle of milk.

Headmistress. Don’t hold on- What- What is that?

Peter. (attempting to hide it from her field of view) Nothing! Nothing.

Headmistress. What is that?

Peter. Nothing at all, schoolmarm.

Headmistress. (pauses, sniffing the air) do I smell.. lactose?

Peter. No, because it’s- it’s perfectly sealed. There’s no way you could smell it. That would suggest a broken seal. And, as I know, a broken seal means your milk goes teal.

Classmate. (whispering) Stop talking.

Peter. But talking’s all I’ve got!

Classmate. Stop!

Peter. I’m not good-

Headmistress. That sounded an awful lot like a rhyme, Peter. (leans down to his eye level) And you know what rhymes bring?

Peter. Crime. (smiles at her, proud of himself)

Headmistress. No.

Classmate. (normal volume) Fine.

Peter. That doesn’t rhyme.

Classmate. A fine!

Peter. That doesn’t rhyme, though.

Headmistress. (leans in between the two of them, to the classmate) You shut up. Remember what happened to Toby?

Classmate. You put him in the room.

Headmistress. I put him in the room. Have you seen Toby?

Classmate. (distressed realization) No.

Headmistress. No.

Nervous whimpers are heard from a small, closed room in the back of the class.

Headmistress. Let me open up the flap, so you can hear how Toby’s doing in the room.

She walks to the back corner of the room and opens it so there’s a hole, large enough for sound to come through, but too small for anything more than maybe a hand to fit through.

Toby. (screaming desperately, voice damaged and hoarse) Let me out! Let me out!

The headmistress closes the flap once again, returning to the two boys.

Headmistress. He’s got so terrified, that his voice broke. That was the screaming of an 8 year old boy. Even though it sounded like a 45 year old plumber from Essex. (leaning down even closer, into the classmate’s ear) You wanna hear more, boy??

Classmate. No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t speak or rhyme again.

Headmistress. What about you, Peter Steven? Milk boy? (walks to his side and leans back down) Why do you have a pint of milk with you at boarding school? What- What sort of a weird, gangly freak are you?

Peter. I’m- I’m not- Well, it’s because of- My- My mom always said I had too-

Headmistress. No, the milk!

Peter. I was gonna explain!

Headmistress. Go on.

Peter. (subtly fidgeting with his hands) My mum always said I’m gangly ‘cause I’ve had the right amount of calcium in my diet. And I was like ‘oh, that must be down to the milkman’, so then I made friends with the milkman and he- (picks the bottle back up) he gave me some Jersey-

Headmistress. The milk!

Peter. I was almost there, but if you want me to stop-

Headmistress. (stands up) No, no.

Peter. The milkman gave me some Jersey Gold, which is the- the best milk that England can produce. And here it is, and I’ve been looking after it-

The headmistress begins singing a soft, wordless tune, as she slowly approaches his eye level.

Peter. (finishes his sentence, despite being confused) -for weeks.

Classmate. Oh shit, she’s singing. This is bad. (panicked) It means she’s gonna put somebody in the room!

The headmistress lays a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Classmate. Quick-!

Peter. No- No, she looks peaceful.

Classmate. Whenever she starts singing, it means she’s gonna put somebody in the room! I think she-

Toby. (loud enough to be heard from inside the room) THERE’S NO SPACE IN THIS FUCKING ROOM! NO ONE ELSE, PLEASE!

Headmistress. (stops singing) Jersey Gold.

Peter. (awkwardly) Mhm.

Headmistress. White oil.

Peter. (nods) Yes.

Headmistress. Creamy gold.

Peter. (becoming uncomfortable) I think this is starting to get problematic.

Headmistress. (smacks her lips)

Peter. Aye, it’s problematic.

Headmistress. Peter.

Peter. Aye?

Headmistress. Peter, perhaps you would do better with some one-on-one tutelage. Maybe you and your milk could come visit me?

Peter and his classmate look at each other, thoroughly uncomfortable and disturbed.

Peter. You know, I’m not sure boarding school’s for me.

Act 2

Scene 5

The business meeting has ended and Mr. Steven enters a bar of a local inn. The bartender is behind the counter, cleaning glasses.

Bartender. (in a Texan accent) Welcome to the Holiday Inn!

Mr. Steven. Oh, you alright?

Bartender. Alright there.

Mr. Steven. Of course. Good, yeah.

Bartender. You look like some sort of businessman.

Mr. Steven. Oh, yeah, I’m just a- just a businessman with- with a briefcase.

Bartender. You’re not from around her, are you? (referencing his own accent) Neither am I.

Mr. Steven sits down on one of the barstools.

Mr. Steven. Yeah, I’m just um..

The bartender slides a drink to Mr. Steven, which he catches.

Mr. Steven. Just like in the wild west, this is.

Bartender. Yeah, just like where I’m from, you know, we always slide the things, you know, we slide things back, you know, we slide drinks back, we sli-

The bar’s manager walks in behind the bartender.

Gareth. We’ve actually talked about not aggressively sliding pints to the customers.

Long pause. Mr. Steven gets a start on his drink, while using his other hand to text Jemima on his phone.

Bartender. I’m sorry, Gareth, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to get the Texan, you know, to stay down in me, you know what I’m saying now?

Gareth. Not really, no. (walks away)

Bartender. So, uh.. you just in town on business?

Mr. Steven. (puts phone back in his pocket) Yeah, yeah, just doing some business, uh- And then I’ll be going back actually (repeating, not unlike a broken record) tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

Bartender. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow? So uh, Monday?

Mr. Steven. Monday. In three days time. (puts up three fingers)

Bartender. Got it.

Mr. Steven. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Bartender. You got a family back where you’re from?

Mr. Steven. Uh, oh, yeah. Yeah, I do, yeah.

Bartender. It’s nice. You keep hold of that family.

Mr. Steven. Oh, I do.

Bartender. Never know what could happen.

Pause.

Mr. Steven. Wh- what do you mean?

Bartender. How do you think I ended up here? (pours a drink)

Mr. Steven. What happened to your- Something happened to your family?

The bartender looks around aimlessly, holding the full glass.

Mr. Steven. Who’s that for?

The bartender sets the drink down in front of Mr. Steven, carefully this time.

Mr. Steven. Thanks, mate.

Gareth reenters.

Gareth. Much better. (leaves)

Bartender. Fuckin’ hate that guy. Yeah, you know, while back in Austin I had myself a, you know, quite a little nice setup. I had the prettiest wife and two little kids just running around, it was absolutely delightful.

Mr. Steven. What are their names?

Bartender. Penelope was my wife, and we had Thaddeus.

Mr. Steven. What?

Bartender. Thaddeus.

Mr. Steven. (incredulous, unsure if he heard correctly) Thad- Thaddeus?

Bartender. Thaddeus.

Mr. Steven. Thaddeus!

Bartender. Thaddeus, yeah. And little Betsy Sue.

Mr. Steven. Lovely names.

Bartender. Yeah. Turns out, though, Betsy Sue wasn’t mine.

Mr. Steven. (eyebrows raise, sympathetic) Oh my god.

Bartender. Yeah.

Mr. Steven. That’s- That’s awful.

Bartender. I was a.. a businessman before I became a bartender.

Mr. Steven. (lightly tapping his arm) With a briefcase?

Bartender. With a briefcase. I didn’t really know what I did. Just turned up at various cities and people would mock my accent, but you know, it put bread on the table and bacon in the belly.

Mr. Steven. Yeah, I know it too well, mate. Know it too well.

Bartender. Turns out, though, I’ve got my wife this- I’m gonna sit down.

Mr. Steven. I know, man. Sit.

Bartender. (sits down next to him) I’ve got my wife this-

Gareth reenters.

Gareth. Like fuck you’re not! Get back behind the bar!

The bartender stands back up, back to cleaning glasses. Gareth walks away.

Bartender. I got my wife something for her Christmas present.

Mr. Steven. Oh, yeah?

Bartender. An Amazon Prime subscription.

Mr. Steven nods.

Bartender. She was as happy as a- as a cat in a cornfield, chasing down mice.

Mr. Steven. I bet she- I- I bet.

Bartender. Ordering things.. Ordering things day in, day out. A grey van would arrive, give my wife package after package. We even got friendly with our delivery driver, Keith.

Mr. Steven. Oh.

Pause.

Bartender. Turns out, Keith was delivering more than essential household goods, if you know what I mean.

Mr. Steven. (sighs) That’s rough. That’s really rough. It’s actually funny you say that, actually, ‘cause, uh, we got a milkman, who uh- who comes over. (quick to clarify) Obvi- Obviously nothing’s happening there, but-

Bartender. You sure about that?

Mr. Steven. (nods) I’m sure. You know, I’ve known him for a long time. Actually, uh, uh, we used to- we used to work together, a long time ago.

Gareth reenters once again.

Gareth. Alright, this is your third warning. We have talked about sharing disturbing details of your failed personal life, and causing customers to run off before they’ve had their full stay at the Holiday Inn.

Bartender. I’m sorry, Gareth. It won’t happen again.

Gareth. I am watching you. (does the correlating hand gesture)

Bartender. We still goin’ bowling on Friday?

Gareth. Of course. (leaves)

Mr. Steven. Out of interest, um, not that I- It’s obviously fine, how did you find- how did you find out?

Bartender. It was in the eyes of Betsy Sue. They weren’t my eyes.

Mr. Steven. Sorry, what?

Bartender. (comes back around the counter, starting to lean down) They were the eyes of the Amazon delivery driver. I looked deep into those eyes-

Gareth reenters.

Gareth. You are dangerously close to that seat! Back behind the bar!

The bartender stands straight back up, returning to his place behind the counter. Gareth leaves.

Mr. Steven. You mean, you looked into your son’s eyes?

Bartender. Daughter’s eyes. Betsy Sue.

Mr. Steven. Daughter’s eyes, Betsy Sue. (trailing off near the end) I’m getting confused, it’s remarkably similar to my own life. Um..

Bartender. Oh, nevermind then, I’ll just leave.

Mr. Steven. No, no, no! No, I-

Bartender. I’m just your barman-

Gareth reenters.

Gareth. Why would you just leave in the middle of a shift?

The bartender lays his head in his hands.

Gareth. Total lack of work ethic here.

Bartender. I’m sorry! I’ve only been a barman for like two days! I used to be a businessman with a briefcase, I don’t know the rules!

Gareth. I’ve heard your failed personal life before. It’s not appropriate for the workplace!

Bartender. I only found out about Betsy Sue two days ago!

While they argue, Mr. Steven takes his phone out from his pocket and tries to get the bartender’s attention by tapping his arm.

Gareth. I’m sorry, deal with this in your own time, alright? (leaves)

The bartender turns his attention back to Mr. Steven, who’s holding his phone out to show him photos.

Mr. Steven. This is uh, this is my son. (holds the phone up higher so the bartender can see) This is him, this is my wife.

Bartender. (studies the photo for a moment, looking between Jemima and Peter) Check the eyes.

Mr. Steven. (turns the phone back to himself) Oh, come on, stop-

Bartender. Check the eyes.

Mr. Steven. Stop it now, none of that. None of that! (takes the phone back down into his lap)

Bartender. Check the eyes.

Mr. Steven looks closely at the photo, lowering his face closer to the phone. His smile slowly fades.

Mr. Steven. Well, no, I- I’ll call her now. I’ll call her now. 

He types her number into the phone and holds it up to his ear. In a simultaneous scene, Jemima picks up the phone, leaning against the wall. It’s dark, but noticeable to the audience that she’s in her bedroom.

Jemima. Hello? How ya doin’?

Mr. Steven. It’s me, you alright?

Jemima. Yeah, yeah, I’m grand, how are you?

Mr. Steven. Yeah, grand.

Jemima. Good, how’s the conference?

Mr. Steven. Yeah, it’s going good, I met this lovely man. What are you- What are you doing?

Jemima. Oh, uh- nothing, nothing. Nothing at all, I’m not naked.

Mr. Steven. You’re not naked?

Bartender. Whohohoho!

Jemima. No, as in like, you know- you know, if you’re ringing up because you want me to talk dirty to you on the phone, now is not appropriate. I have me hands full.

Mr. Steven. You’ve got your hands full?

Jemima. Yeah.

They hear the sound of glass clinking.

Mr. Steven. What was that?

Jemima. Uh, I think that was your end, actually.

Glasses clink together as the bartender cleans and puts them away. 

Mr. Steven. Just hold on- hold on a minute! Hold on- hold on a minute.

Jemima. What’s that?

He stands and reaches over the counter to stop the bartender’s hands, and by extension the glasses, from moving. The clinking, though much more subtly, persists on the other end of the phone.

Jemima. (nervously) Uh- (clears throat)

Mr. Steven. That’s the sound of some, uh- some milk bottles. (sits back down) Are you having some milk?

Jemima. Oh, yeah, I think that’s just, um-

Mr. Steven. Some late night milk?

Jemima. Uh.. Not late night milk, I just- just fancied a glass late at night, that’s all. You know, like I’m- as I’m wont to do on occasion. Sometimes, late night glass of milk. Doesn’t do any harm, does it?

A grunting noise is vaguely heard on Jemima’s end. Alarmed, she covers the phone’s mic and turns back to David, in her bed.

Jemima. (whisper yelling) Fucking shut up! Fucking shut up, what are you doing? I said I will finish you in a minute! (uncovers microphone)

Mr. Steven. You alright there?

Jemima. Yeah, I left the telly on. Sorry.

Mr. Steven. What’re you watchin’?

Jemima. Uhhh-

Mr. Steven. ' Oo’s Yer Dad'?

Scene 6

Peter has made his escape from boarding school and is running away, while he and his classmate are being chased down by the school’s staff. Peter starts singing as he runs.

Peter. ~The sun’ll come out, tomorrow! Bet your bottom dollar that~

Classmate. (running behind him) RUN!

Peter. ~tomorrow,~

Classmate. RUN, MY FRIEND!

His classmate and friend is shot through the back of the chest, yelling in pain as he goes down. Peter only briefly looks back, deciding to focus on getting home rather than the boy who was killed just behind him.

Peter. (terrified) ~Tomorrow, tomorrow! I love you, tomorrow! You’re only a bus ride away!~

Scene 7

David and Jemima are laying naked together on her bed, both out of breath and satisfied. David takes a drag of a cigarette.

David. Had a close one.

Jemima. (nods) Yeah, I-

David. Sorry, I just felt so good. What you did- What you did with that cream..

There’s a long pause as they lay together in silence. This silence is interrupted by knocking at the front door.

Jemima. (startled) Oh?

David. Why’d you send- Oh?

Jemima. Someone’s at the door.

David. Oh, uh- I should- I- (motions to the closet) Closet?

Jemima. Obviously get in the closet! (shoos him away)

They both rush out of bed. David gets in the closet, closing the door behind him. Jemima quickly puts on a robe to cover herself before going downstairs. She opens the front door and sees Peter waiting outside.

Peter. (relieved) Mum. Mum! They were doing like a- a Matilda - Mrs. Trunchbull kinda situation. (vague motioning as he explains) And there’s like this cupboard they put- I abandoned all of them. Mum, there’s a lot of child abuse happening at that school.

Jemima. What?

Peter. I think we- There’s a lot of child abuse happening at the school, Mum!

Jemima. (worriedly hurrying him) Get- Get- Get inside, get inside, get inside!

Peter. (walks inside) Thanks, Mum!

Jemima. Did you run here all the way? (closes the front door)

Peter. Oh, no. Uh-

Jemima. On your knees?

Peter. I’ve got- (looks down, then back up at Jemima) You mean I’m allowed to stand up now, Mum?

Jemima. Yes, Peter!

Peter. (getting off his knees and standing up for the first time in the show, now much taller than his mother) Oh wow, thank fuck for that! Whew! 

Jemima sets her hand on his shoulder.

Peter. You know, they called me gangly over there, Mum.

Jemima. Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. (hugs him)

Peter. (hugging back) But being tall’s a good thing!

Jemima. Yeah. Yeah, of course it is. (lets go from the embrace)

David. (heard from upstairs) It’s great thing.

Peter. (looks upward toward the voice) Is Dad home?

Jemima puts her hand over her mouth, embarrassed and unsure what to say.

David. Yes!

Jemima. What?  

Peter excitedly runs up the stairs to see his father, Jemima unable to stop him. She silently curses both David and herself, covering her face with her hands as she follows him up to their bedroom. Peter looks around the empty room, unclear on where the voice is coming from.

Peter. Hi, Dad! I- I thought you were doing a business!

David. No-

Jemima. He is, he is!

David. No, Peter, I came back ‘cause I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I sent you to boarding school, and I think-

Peter. That doesn’t s-

David. I think you’re the specialist little boy in the entire world.

Jemima is anxiously stepping in place, wanting to stop this from playing out.

Peter. That doesn’t sound like Dad!

Jemima. (calls to David) We haven’t- We haven’t discussed this!

Peter. That sounds like a milkman in a cupboard.

David. (opening the closet door and stepping out behind Peter) OO’S YER DAD?

Peter. (backs away, surprised) OH!

Peter looks back and forth between them, still a bit stunned.

Peter. Mr. Milkman!

David. Sorry, I should put some clothes on.

Jemima puts her head in her hands, embarrassed. David puts his pants back on.

Peter. That reminds me, I brought the Jersey Gold back.

He holds it out to David, who takes it from him.

David. Thank you very much. (sets the bottle down on the floor)

Peter. Wh- Why is he here, Mum? Why is he here, and why was he naked?

David. I’ve been here many times before.

Jemima. No! Don’t- Don’t you- Don’t you dare.

David. Peter, your mum is not happy.

Peter. (looks down at Jemima) I’m sorry, Mum!

David. (puts his hand on Peter’s back) No, it’s not you, Peter. She’s very happy with you. It’s just that (pause) Your mum needs some excitement in her life.

Peter. We were gonna go go-karting. You wanna go go-karting now, Mum?

Jemima. I always want- I always want to go go-karting with you. (puts her hands lightly on his shoulders)

Peter. I thought you didn’t wanna go out ‘cause you made me play PS5, and it’s like you didn’t wanna see me, like I was a shameful secret.

David. Peter, you are- There’s no-

Peter. I’m so sorry that you’re ashamed of me, Mum.

Jemima. (moves her hands) I’m no- I’m not- I’m not ashamed of you! I’m-

Peter. I’m sorry I’m so tall!

Jemima. No, Peter-

Peter. (looks between the two of them again) I know it’s not in the family genes, but-

Jemima again lays her head in her hands, feeling terribly guilty.

Peter. (apologetically, fidgeting with his hands) I didn’t mean to be born wrong with this- this- this weird dark hair-

Peter inadvertently moves nearer to David. David puts his arm around Peter’s back.

Peter. -unlike the blonde or baldness of you and Dad.

David. Peter!

Peter. Yes, Mr. Milkman.

David. (takes his arm away) Look at me.

Peter. Okay. (pause) I don’t wanna look below, (awkwardly gestures downward) it’s still partially-

David. No, no. I’ve still- Yeah, yeah. I know. Yeah.

Peter. There’s a bulge.

David. Aye, there’s a bulge. But that bulge is important. (puts hand back on his shoulder)

Peter. No. (to Jemima, pointing) This is what happened with the headmistress.

David. No, no!

Jemima. (motions to stop David) I’ll- I’ll tell- I’ll tell him.

David. (moves hand from his shoulder) You’re gonna tell him?

Jemima. I will.

David. ‘Cause if you don’t tell him, I’m gonna tell him, ‘cause I- My heart can’t take this anymore. I’d be a great dad!

Jemima. I know!

David. (to Peter) I’d let you play in the garden every day!

Pause.

Peter. (to Jemima) I think he just told me.

Jemima nods.

Peter. (back to David) You’re my.. dad!

The sound of a car engine is heard throughout the house.

Peter. Are you watching TV? Is it Live And Kicking?

David. No, it’s not Live And Kicking, that show has been off the air for twenty years.

A car door slams shut.

David. Oh, shit. It’s now or never. If you want me to leave and never come back, I will. I’ll go find a different village. I’ll become a bartender with a Texan accent.

Jemima shakes her head.

David. You know I could be a better dad than him. I’ll never leave for a conference, I’ll be here every day with milk and-

Jemima. (stressed and overwhelmed) I know, I know, I know! Let me talk to him, he deserves to hear it from me.

Keys jingle downstairs as they speak.

David. Back in the cupboard?

Jemima. Please.

Peter. (following David as he closes himself in the closet) Okay, off we go.

Jemima. (stops him by taking his arm) No, not you, Peter.

Peter. Not me? I don’t wanna be present for this.

Jemima. Go to your room and play PS5.

Peter. (disappointed) Aww..

Mr. Steven. (calling up the stairs) Darling, it’s me! It’s me, darling!

Jemima. (stops Peter on his way out) Play in the garden, do whatever you want.

Peter. (hopefully) In the garden?

Jemima. Whatever you want, darling.

Peter. Thanks, Mum!

They hug each other.

Jemima. I love you. (cups his face in her hands) And I’m not ashamed of you.

Peter. (putting his hands over hers) I love you, too. And some of your question- Some of your choices have been questionable, but I’m not ashamed of you, either.

Heavy footsteps come up the stairs.

Jemima. (kisses Peter on the forehead and lets him go) Off you go.

Peter. I mean, there’s one door, so.. (points backwards) I’ll have to go past.

The bedroom door opens behind him and Mr. Steven walks in.

Mr. Steven. (arms outstretched) Hello, mate! (turns Peter around by his shoulders) Hello, mate! (hugs him)

Peter. (only partially reciprocating, wildly uncomfortable) Helloo..

Mr. Steven. How you doin’? (goes over and hugs Jemima) Oh, thanks fuck I’m back, honestly.

Jemima. (to Peter, as she lets go of Mr. Steven) Off- Off you go.

Peter backs away slowly and leaves the room. Jemima looks down, ashamed of herself.

Mr. Steven. They’re all, uh, they’re all- (pause) Why- Why is he standing up?

Jemima. (shakes her head) Because he’s got nothing to be ashamed of.

Mr. Steven. What do you mean he’s got nothing to be ashamed of? (moves toward the closet)

Jemima. I’m the only one who has anything to be ashamed of. (stops him with a hand on his chest) No, don’t go in- don’t take your clothes off yet.

Mr. Steven steps back to be in front of Jemima.

Jemima. I’ve been lying to you.

Mr. Steven. What do you mean you’ve been lying to me?

Jemima turns up her head and closes her eyes tightly, her hands stretching out at her sides, her whole body tense as she emotionally prepares to tell him the truth.

Jemima. He’s not your son. He’s David’s son. (drops her head to a normal angle, still avoiding eye contact)

Mr. Steven. I know.

Jemima. (looks at him, surprised) You know?

Mr. Steven. When I was out there.. The bar guy told me. The bar guy told me to-

Jemima. How did he know? Who’s this bar guy?

Mr. Steven. Don’t worry about it. I got out my phone-

The Texan bartender enters the room.

Bartender. It’s an awful nice home you’ve got here. Thanks for inviting me up!

Jemima. Who’s this? Who is this?

Mr. Steven. (pulls out his phone) I looked into my son’s eyes in the picture, and the two of us, we stared at it for ages and ages.

Bartender. We did, we bonded. We bonded deep. I think I know what you’ve been up to, missy.

Mr. Steven. I know the truth.

Jemima. I’m sorry.

Mr. Steven. I know, and you should be. It’s really bad.

Bartender. (pats Mr. Steven’s shoulder) It’s okay man, it’s okay. I remember how I felt.

Jemima. I feel like in a way you’ve always known.

Mr. Steven. Yeah. Kinda felt like that.

Jemima. You never even kiss me on the lips anymore, it’s only ever on the cheek.

Bartender. You gotta kiss your wife on the lips, man!

Mr. Steven. (goes over to the closet again, reaching to open it) I just-

Jemima. Don’t go in there!

Mr. Steven. What?

Jemima. (quietly) Just- 

Jemima doesn’t finish her sentence, allowing him to open the closet door. David is there to greet him.

David. (holding up a bottle) Milk?