In Fits and Starts by Kava Palava

22 January 2021 { Script/Screenplay }

SCENE ONE

FX HEELS CLIPPING ON PAVEMENT, TRAFFIC SOUNDS

SAL INTERIOR MONOLOGUE

It was a tricky relationship. Well, I say tricky. The most miserable, stressful and alone I ever felt. It wasn’t all bad - we had a laugh, he brought me tea in the morning. If he made toast he’d let me have a bite. He didn’t cook though, apart from toast. He made his own bread; it was like thick porridge that dried to a hard crust. He didn’t use normal flour. Or read the recipe.

I’m an artist and he’s a scientist: I thought I’d absorb his knowledge by osmosis, but apparently that’s not how it works. I imagined pooling our knowledge to create beautiful installations. But we spent the first year in bed and the next five rowing.

I’m not a control freak as such, but I am organised. Turns out he’s chaotic. I pay attention to clothes, but he’d get dressed from a skip. His cycle gear was trousers too big, a high vis jacket salvaged from the side of the road, a zip up sports top, all of them soaked with rain, sweat or road dirt.

I’m amazed we lasted that long.

FX PUB DOOR OPENING

SAL We met in a pub to sort out loose ends.

FX SAL SITS DOWN

MIKE: You look well

SAL: Thank you. You’re…dressed for the weather

MIKE: I am

PAUSE

MIKE: Did you get that thing about the insurance renewal? I think we /should stay with

SAL: /Mike, about the house. I got three valuations: the middle one looks reasonable

MIKE Don’t I get a say?

SAL Of course you do. You said it wasn’t working, you said we argue too much, then you said you were moving out.

PAUSE

MIKE But selling the house?

SAL What am I supposed to do? Sit there like Miss Havisham?

MIKE Who?

SAL SIGHS. I don’t want to fight. Read these and pick one.

FX SAL STANDS TO GO

MIKE: Did you drive?

SAL: No, tram

MIKE Will you be alright…?

SAL: Yeah, party on the platform, chat with the winos, be great

MIKE: Sally, I’m sorry

FX CHAIR PUSHING BACK AS HE GOES TO STAND, TO SAY GOODBYE

SAL: Mmhmm SHE STALKS OFF CLUMSILY

SCENE TWO

SAL: INT MONOLOGUE

I came home, got drunk and fell asleep on the sofa. Couldn’t face that cold, empty bed. When the phone rang it was mid-morning, but I wasn’t fully awake. It was Jo from Mark’s office –

‘Isn’t he there?’

Yes, except, he’d been taken ill.

There was a pause, so I said I’d pick him up, but Jo said:

No, he’s in A&E.

‘A&E? I only saw him last night’.

The ambulance took him.

‘Ambulance?’ I felt sick.

Jo said: ‘I’ll meet you there’.

I hesitated: we’d split up – and this wasn’t a quick visit.

But Jo didn’t know that, so in I went, round the back where the ambulances go.

Hospitals terrify me, they mean death and bad news.

FX BUSY A&E BEEPS, FOOTSTEPS & TROLLEYS, CURTAINS

SAL: I felt like an intruder, but a nurse pointed the way, and there was Jo, desperate to get out of there. I couldn’t blame him.

When I saw Mike, I didn’t recognise him, face like waxed paper, plasters on his chest, oxygen mask. He was in his office clothes, which looked quite smart. His shoes needed cleaning.

A nurse and a porter came to move his trolley; I didn’t know what to do, but someone else needed the space, so I followed them. They parked him in a side room, and suddenly we were alone.

My face was wet, and I realised I was crying; it seemed incredibly indulgent, when everyone else was working, but I couldn’t stop. I must pull myself together, for Mike.

I took his hand; it was cold and clammy. They’d put a cellular blanket on him, and I worried it’d get dirty, with his shoes still on. Stupid really when Mike was - what? – dying? It didn’t seem possible.

SAL SOBS

FX DOOR OPENS

SAL The porter came back, to take him for tests.

‘It’d be a while’, he said, so I walked out into the street, and started ringing round.

That night I cried myself to sleep and had a horrible dream about being carted off to a lunatic asylum. I woke up, twisted in the duvet cover, and remembered what had happened.

SCENE THREE

SAL They found a bleed in his brain and started treatment. They moved him to acute medica.

FX SHOES SQUEAK ON HOSPITAL CORRIDOR

He was near the nurses’ station, but he sat up in bed. His face looked softer.

FX SHE SITS ON HOSPITAL BED

SAL: How are you?

MIKE: Relieved. Grateful.

SAL: Yeah, they’ve been amazing

INT: I know everyone says that, but I was amazed, I think it was shock.

MIKE: When I was – dying – everything was made of light, it was so beautiful, just light.

I wanted to stay, but I made myself come back. Something drew me back

SAL: Crisps? Football? Crisps.

MIKE: You. I needed to say sorry - to you

SAL: Oh...

MIKE: I didn’t understand how important people were, but they’re Everything. You’re great.

SAL: I was so scared you’d die. I always thought it’d be cycling, not this.

MIKE: No, well.

They said as soon as there’s a bed, I can go to the rehab unit.

I could be home in a week or two

SAL: Home?

MIKE: To you, to us. Like you wanted

FX Oh! Come here

MIKE Mind my cannula

SAL: Sorry, sorry!

SAL INT MONOLOGUE We held hands, the left one, bit awkward, and we lived happily ever after.

SCENE FOUR, LIVING ROOM

SAL Yeah, right.

It was bound to be bumpy: in hospital, meals arrived, and medication appeared on time with a glass of water. All he did was sleep, and physio. I found myself with double the washing, three times the cooking and every glass and cup in the house gravitating to his bedside.

And then there were the visitors, like Mike’s sister who turned up with

SAL: A baby? Who brings a baby to a…

MIKE: Look, she’s out now, walking the dog

SAL: That she also brought. Fucksake. “Wayne”?!

MIKE: (SIGHS) Please calm down, I’m meant to avoid stress

SAL: Your stress? “Ooh Sally let me take you out to lunch, you must be shattered!

I know, I’ll bring a baby and a random puppy for the ride.”

And expect catering

MIKE It’s only a cup of tea

SAL You make it then, and stop playing on your phone

MIKE I’m replying to emails

FX MIKE’S PHONE PINGS

MIKE READING Julie says, have you got any poo bags?

SAL: For the baby?

MIKE: The dog, I think. Maybe? She’s coming back

I’ll tell her we’ve got lots of bags

SAL: I’ve got bags Mike, but they’re for shopping, not for wrapping dog poo

FX DOG ENTERS BARKS RUNS AROUND

MIKE: Wayne! “Who’s a good boy?”

“Where’s your ball? Where’s your ball?”

FX DOG BECOMING INCREASINGLY EXCITED

SAL What about staying calm?

SAL: INT.MONOLOGUE I’m jealous of a dog

FX DOG BECOMING INCREASINGLY EXCITED

SAL: Is he meant to froth?

FX WAYNE VOMITS COPIOUSLY

PAUSE

MIKE: He’s still a bit car sick

SAL: In a house?

PAUSE

MIKE: Have we got any kitchen roll?

SAL Yes I have. It’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.

FX RIPS OFF MARIGIOLDS

FX SAL STALKS ACROSS ROOM

FX DOOR SLAMS

CONTINUES INTO SCENE FOUR B - OUTDOORS, THE PARK

SAL INT MONOLOGUE, I stormed out before I throttled him. Mike I mean, it wasn’t the dog’s fault, he shouldn’t have wound him up.
Why was I so frustrated? He nearly died.
I was shattered; he had this army of support from occy health and six months leave on full pay and loads of cards. I had…him?

Go back and apologise. And check he cleared up the sick.

SCENE FIVE LIVING ROOM

INT MONOLOGUE He was lying on the sofa, Julie had gone but she’d left some biscuits - M&S - nice. Mike was on the sofa, curled up like a hedgehog under his coat.

SAL: Mike? Mike?

FX SAL SITS ON SOFA, LEANS IN FOR A CUDDLE

FX MIKE, ON REFLEX, KICKS OUT & CATCHES SAL’S FACE

SAL: Jesus!

MIKE: Don’t Touch My Feet!

SAL: Mike! You drew blood, your toenails are lethal!

MIKE: I was asleep

FX HE LIES BACK DOWN

SAL: Ow. NUDGES HIS LEG. Ow!

PAUSE.

FX SHE CURLS UP TO HIM: THEY BREATHE, IT’S COSY

SAL Let’s go away for a bit, have a break from all this

MIKE: I’ve got Outpatients.

SAL: At the weekend?

MIKE: I’m seeing my folks.

SAL: I’ll come with you

MIKE: You’d be bored.

SAL: The week after?

MIKE: I’m in Norwich

SAL: You’re still going to that?

MIKE I’ve got a lift

BEAT

SAL: INT MONOLOGUE Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask

SAL Um, Mike, you know you said you wanted to ‘come home’, did you mean to me?

Or just here?

MIKE: I’m tired.

SAL INT MONOLOGUE

We both were.

SCENE SIX

SAL INT MONOLOGUE

So, that was it. The house sold within three days. Six months later…

FX LIVING ROOM EMPTY, ECHOES:

FX SAL ROLLS PACKING TAPE ONTO BOX

FX WRITES ON TAPE

FX MIKE ENTERS

SAL: You got your stuff then

MIKE: It was on the street! Anyone could have taken it. The bin men!

SAL Can’t think why.

MIKE: Where is Wayne?

SAL: Wayne? He went ahead, like a tracker dog

MIKE: On his own?

SAL: He’s in the car

MIKE Will he be alright?

SAL: Probably, we’ve done some dummy runs

MIKE: I didn’t think you wanted a dog, all that mess

SAL: He’s company

PAUSE

MIKE Sal,

FX SAL’S PHONE BEEPS. SHE CHECKS THE SCREEN

SAL: The money’s gone in. It’s theirs.

MIKE: CHECKS PHONE Mine hasn’t

SAL: Well then.

FX SHE PLACES A DOORKEY ON THE FLOOR

SAL: There

MIKE I hope it works out – with Wayne.

SAL: Thank you.

MIKE: I am grateful

SAL: Goodbye

FX SAL WALKS OUT

SAL INTERNAL MONOLOGUE

The thing is, if I am clearing up, it may as well be for someone who is really pleased to see me

FX DOG BARKS

SAL Who’s a good boy? You! Yes, you are!

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