A Different Perspective: Scene 2

Scene 2 - Saturday Morning - Portrait Session.

Edna and Maureen are at their easels. Helen is between them; their sitting model.

Judith sprawls on the floor, drawing. Gus shuffles around looking at their work.

The scene starts quietly with plenty of pauses. They just feel they should fill the silences with conversation.

Gus. How are we doing?

Edna. I wish you'd let me have a rubber.

Gus. Perhaps we'll swap around soon and you can be piggy in the middle. 

Helen. I'm sorry?

Gus. I mean that you and Maureen can draw Edna.

Helen. I didn't come to participate..... I just brought Judith.

Gus. Can't we tempt you to scribble just a little. You're in for a rather boring weekend otherwise. 

Helen. No.... Really.

Gus. Well it's up to you, of course.

Helen. Thank you.

Pause.

Gus looks at Edna's efforts.

Gus. The eye-line is roughly central in the head, remember. And the bottom of the nose halves it again.

Edna. Oh, right.

Gus. You can do all that stuff holding the pencil at arm's length and using it as a measure, if you like. It's something of an artistic cliché, but it does actually work.

Edna. I'll give it a go.

Pause.

Helen. I used to – at one time.

Gus. Sorry?.... Used to what?

Helen. Water colours. I had a Rowney paint box for my fourteenth birthday. It had fourteen tubes of paint. I remember that because it was how old I was. And there was a book on how to do water colours.

Gus. Painting by numbers, eh?

Helen. Anyway, Gordon's the artistic one, not me.

Edna. Is that where your daughter gets her talent from, then?

Helen. Probably.... What's she doing down there, by the way? Is she behaving herself?

Edna. (Spinning round on her chair to look). She's fine. She's just drawing..... (Calling to her). What are you drawing, dear? (There is no response). Oh, well.... No trouble at all, is she really?... Bless her. 

Helen gets up and goes over to Judith.

Helen. (Pulling Judith's dress down to cover an expanse of leg). But I wish she'd sit on a chair. I'm afraid this isn't very lady like, but she draws like this at home.

Gus. I shouldn't worry.

Helen. (Realising that the others have stopped drawing). Oh, of course. I'm sorry.... Sorry.

She sits back down.

Edna. So you're husband's artistic then, Helen?

Helen. Artistic appreciation is his pass-time. He likes classical music and theatre and opera too. Particularly the opera. He goes to Glyndbourne every year.

Gus. Glyndbourne, eh? All right for some.

Helen. It's mainly corporate hospitality for his clients.

Gus. Ah... Hob-nobbing with the hob-nobs.

Helen. Sometimes he takes Judith to the National Gallery in his lunch hour; if he's not too busy that is. She likes going with him – in the winter time, that is, when there's not too many people. But when she's there she doesn't seem to look at the pictures at all. He's tried to interest her in them. Takes endless patience with her - endless. But she'll come away and draw the building or a room or a panelled door or something.... Still.... That's just like her.

Gus comes across Judith's ring of keys, lying on the floor near her.

Gus. (Moving them with his stick). Is there anything significant about these?

Judith immediately grabs them and clutches them in her palms, squeezing them. Over the next few lines she gradually lapses into total inertness, staring into nothing. 

Gus. Ah... Apparently, yes.

Helen. They're her comforter. Like a doll or teddy bear.

Edna. Not very cuddly.

Helen. She likes that, the sharpness of them and the hardness and the shapes. And  dolls don't really mean anything to her. She feels more comfortable with objects you see, she relates to them better.... Well that's what her therapist used to say anyway.

Edna. Her therapist?

Helen. We took her to a clinic for a while. She used to be quite unmanageable; a real wild child, and she had me at the end of my tether once or twice.... Well more than once or twice actually.

Edna. I can imagine.

Helen. All the therapist said was that we were lucky. Judith has her artistic gift that absorbs her, preoccupies her – well most of the time. Ninety nine cases out of a hundred don't have anything, no remarkable talent, nothing – or else their obsession is more destructive...... Yes. I suppose we are lucky.

Maureen. She must have hundreds of keys there.

Helen. Yes. And every so often she takes them all off and rearranges them by colour, shape, size, type. I think she invents personalities for them, gives them names in her head. It can keep her occupied for hours.

Gus. Simple things please simple minds.

Helen. (A little sharply). She's very intelligent. Perhaps too intelligent. I think that can sometimes happen, don't you?

Gus. Yes... Of course.

There is a pause as Edna resumes drawing. Maureen watches Judith, still frozen.

Edna. You should have brought your husband along, Helen. A bit of male company for Gus. (To Gus). Only I expect you find us ladies all a bit of a muchness on some of these weekends.

Gus. Perish the thought, Edna! Although I have to admit, I sometimes leave you all to chat after dinner while I escape to the local.

Edna. I might have guessed.

Helen. Oh, Gordon is much too busy for this type of thing. He often has to work weekends. 

Maureen. Is she all right? She's just frozen. Been like that for a while. 

Helen. She's just thinking – I think – we assume.

Edna. Bless 'er. Looks just like a pretty doll, sitting still like that.

Judith suddenly gets up (still holding her keys) and goes to the drawing of the reclining figure still attached to Gus's easel.

Edna. Oh, she's off.

Helen. Judith? Where are you going?

Maureen. Perhaps she heard us talking about her.

Judith stares at the drawing, she traces the lines again with her finger. Then she just stares at it, frozen again.

Edna. Do you work?

Helen. Looking after my daughter is a full time job. 

Edna. I suppose it must be, dear.

Helen. Joo Joo, don't spoil the drawing, there's a good girl.

Gus. It doesn't matter. And I don't know about the National Gallery, but she's certainly looking at that picture.

Helen. It's the charcoal that interests her.

Edna. Has she got any brothers or sisters?

Helen. No.

Edna. Shame. I always think two or three's nicer than just the one. Nicer for them and nicer for you. That's what I always say.

Helen. Perhaps.

Edna. Did you never think of trying for another then?

Helen. No. We – we thought it wouldn't be a good idea.

Maureen. Did you work at one time?

Helen. (Keen to turn her attention to Maureen). Oh, yes.... I used to be a lexicographer at Oxford University. Do you know Oxford at all?

Maureen. Not really.

Helen. It's wonderful. Wrapped up in all that history, all that tradition..... And the shops just filling the gaps between the colleges, like two places squeezed into one – town and gown as they say. And there were bicycles just everywhere in term time, you wouldn't believe how many. All the time you could hear the clickerty-click of the old cylinder gears as the students cycled around.... All the time. 

Well, it was like that then, in the sixties..... I'm not sure about now.

Judith stops gazing at the drawing on Gus's easel and goes to the projector at the back. During the next few speeches she looks at it, feels its contours, taps its hard and shiny surfaces with her free hand.

Edna.  A lexi-what? did you say?

Helen. Lexicographer. Dictionaries, etymology, word derivation.

Edna. Oh.

Helen. I did my degree there too; classics. And my MA and PhD. I was there for eight years.

Gus. Well, well, well. Didn't know we had such an academic in our midst.

Maureen. A PhD? Does that mean you're a doctor then?

Helen. Yes.

Gus. But also a graduate of the swinging sixties, eh?

Helen. I graduated in sixty eight, yes.

Gus. The summer of love.

Helen. Yes, well, that's what they say, don't they.

Maureen. It must have been fantastic back then. I've got all the music, you know, The Beatles especially. I went out and bought them all on CD. Sergeant Peppers and The White Album and everything.... And John Lennon?.... Brilliant.

Edna. Her karma's back there, isn't it dear?

Maureen. Yes.

Gus. Really?

Pause. They work on.

Judith  comes and looks at what the others are drawing, but at a distance.

Gus. (Looking at Maureen's drawing). That's good Maureen.

Maureen. Thanks.

Gus. You've captured Helen's nervous gaze most adroitly.

Helen glances at him. Gus starts to get out a cigarette.

Gus. Don't worry, Helen. When I sit and model for these things I'm sure I look bloody petrified. Afterwards, when I examine the pupils' efforts, there's this totally alien individual staring out from the paper at me... Wild eyes, twisted grin, barking mad – talk about ‘non compus mentis’. They then tell me it's a very good likeness..... Worrying really.... (He becomes aware of Judith). And what do you think, young lady?

Judith breaks away and returns to her drawing position on the floor.

Gus. Oh well.... Yes. Very good, Maureen. But the lips a little thinner. 

Maureen. Right.

Pause.

Helen. Compos, not compus.

Gus. Sorry?

Helen. The Latin, non compos mentis... Not having possession of the mind. Compos – having possession, or control.

Gus. Ah, yes... Compos. Thank you.

Pause. Helen nervously gets a packet of peppermints from her bag and takes one.

Gus. Anyway, talking of going to the pub after dinner –

Edna. Were we?

Gus. Yes. A while ago. You see, Laura doesn't like me tottering off down the lane to the pub in the dark; thinks I'll career over into a ditch or something. (With a laugh). Can't imagine why, eh?.... So sometimes I take along an escort; some intrepid pupil willing to brave the night air and the gimlet gaze of the locals... You can hear them whispering in corners, you see. (Imitating a Suffolk accent).  "At's one o' them there arty-tarty-girls with Gussie an it?... Does she mo-dal for 'im in the nuddie d'y think?"

Edna. (A little mock shock). They don't do they?

Gus. "Wouldn't mind a few le-ssons up at the 'all meself."

Edna. You're pulling our legs.

Gus. (Indicating his lighter). Maureen. Be an angel, would you?

Maureen. (Standing up). Of course.

She lights his cigarette.

Gus. Thanks.... Care to volunteer?

Maureen. (With a nervous glance at the others). What?

Gus.  For the pub trip? Not the modelling in the nuddie I mean.... Tonight perhaps? Hold my hand going up the lane? Carry me back after?... I'd buy you a drink or two.

Maureen. (After a pause and a slight smile). All right..... Yes. Why not.

Gus. Good. Look forward to it.

There is a pause

They work on. Occasionally Gus remembers to flick his cigarette ash in a convenient ash tray. At others it just goes on the floor.

Helen. Does any body want a peppermint?

Edna. Oooh, yes please, dear.

Helen moves to Edna who takes one.

Edna. Ta.

Helen. Mo?

Maureen. No thanks, they're not good for the teeth.

Helen. Oh.

Edna. Doesn't bother me... They're not mine anyway.

Helen. (Offering one to Judith). Joo Joo?... Do you want one of my peppermints?

Judith takes one with scarcely any recognition of Helen.

Helen. (Resuming her place). Sorry. I keep moving, don't I?

Edna. I don't think it's going to make much difference to be honest. Not to mine, anyway. I keep telling him I need a rubber.

Gus. I hope you don't mind the smoke by the way, Helen. So many people are paranoid about it these days one gets to feel like a leper.

Helen. No.... Actually Gordon smokes.

Gus. Good for Gordon.

Edna. Yours have got a strange smell though. What are they? herbal or something?

Gus. Sort of.... Actually, my GP's suggestion. A little additive to soothe my battered brain cells. 

Edna. Oh, yes? What's that then?

Gus. Cannabis.

Edna. What?! Pot?! But isn't that –

Gus. Illegal? Yes. But what I say is if I'm going to be lumbered with this bugger of a body, I might as well be merry in it. Laura does the cultivating and produces the handy packaging; bless her..... So breathe in and hang loose ladies. (Breathes in and blows out smoke). Doctor's orders.

There is a pause as Edna and Helen exchange glances. Helen has another peppermint.

Edna. You were going to tell us how you got it.

Gus. Got it?

Edna. The bang on the head or whatever.

Gus. Ah, yes... Well now, you mustn't laugh, Edna, but under the influence of too much John Jameson whisky, I – er – fell out of a window.

Edna. Really?

Gus. In Venice it was. But as fate would have it, it was one of the few windows in that fair city without a canal underneath it.

Edna. Never. That was unlucky.

Gus shuffles round to view Edna's drawing.

Gus. No, lucky actually.

Edna. Why?

Gus. I can't swim.

Edna. Get away.... I think you're having me on.

Gus. Perish the thought.

Edna. Actually a little bird told me you're a walking miracle and a bit of a hero to boot.

Gus. A hero?.... Ah, well now. You shouldn't always listen to little birds, Edna – (with a wink at Maureen) – however sweetly they sing.... It's a long story. But I'll tell you what – I'll tell it to you when it's your turn to walk me up the lane.

Edna. You're on.

Gus. (He shuffles over to Judith). Now then. Let's see what our prolific young scribbler seems to be drawing.... Ah, the slide projector. Obviously rather more fascinating to her than you, I'm afraid, Helen.

Helen. Oh, that's quite typical.

Pause.

Gus. Very nice.... If one likes drawings of slide projectors, that is. But we'll have to see if we can move you on to something a little more challenging. After all it's why you're here, isn't it? 

Edna. (To Gus). Do you really think you can get through to her?

Gus. Let's see shall we? (To Judith). Judith?..... Can you draw your mother?

There is no response.

Helen. She won't.

Gus. We'll see.... (To Judith again). Can you draw Helen?

There is still no response.

Edna. I'll have a go. (Imitating Helen's intonation). Joo Joo?

Judith stops drawing, but doesn't turn round.

Edna. We're drawing Helen. (Glancing at her own drawing). Well, trying to draw Helen.... Can you draw Helen?

After some hesitation Judith nods, turns over her paper and starts on a new drawing.

Gus. Well done. The grandmotherly touch, no doubt.

Edna. (Very pleased with herself). And did you see that? She nodded, ‘yes’. Bless 'er.

Helen. But that's the limit of her communication I'm afraid.

Gus. Still, we're making progress.

Helen. And she won't be drawing me. She never draws people, only things.

Gus. Really?

Helen. Only things. Never people.

Gus tries to see what Judith is starting to draw.

Maureen. That must be significant, mustn't it?

Judith senses Gus's gaze and freezes.

Gus. All right, my love. Uncle Gussie won't watch. (He moves away).

Maureen. Psychologically I mean. A kind of statement; not drawing people.

Helen. As I said – she feels more comfortable with objects, that's all. But that's okay isn't it? I mean there are plenty of famous landscape painters and still life artists.

Maureen. Do they know what causes it?

Helen. No, not really.

Maureen. Is it inherited?

Gus. Oh, for the tact of the young.

Maureen. I'm sorry I didn't mean – I wasn't implying – or anything.

Helen. It's all right. People ask all sorts of questions, I – well I get used to it.... (Rather evasively). There are some cases where autistic traits can be seen in relatives, male relatives usually. An insular personality with obsessive interests, but few social skills and bad at forming relationships.

Gus. Sounds like most of the male population..... But not Gordon.

Helen. No, not Gordon.

Gus. But usually male?

Helen. Yes.

Pause.

Edna. Has she never spoken?

Helen. No, never.

Edna. But she seems to understand what we say.

Helen. Some of what we say. Simple statements. The names of objects. Instructions. But real communication is impossible.  And it's not just words – it's everything. Body language, intonation, even facial expressions. Smiles, frowns, laughter, tears. She just doesn't understand them.

Gus. That's incredible.

Helen. But it's true. She really is profoundly different from how she seems.... She's not like the little doll, the fairy child she might appear to be. She's not like sleeping beauty, just waiting for some prince to come and wake her up. We can't know what will reach her because we're not her. I'm not her, you're not her, nobody is her, she's like nobody you've ever known or likely to know.

Edna. No harm in trying though is there?

Helen. I brought her here to improve her drawing, to get a second opinion, to see if it might be something she can develop. I didn't bring her here to be ‘got through to’. 

Edna. Surely there's always hope, dear.

Helen. You think so?.... You asked her to draw ‘Helen’.... Do you think she has? After all, she nodded, ‘yes’.

Edna. I don't know.

Helen. She won't have. Go and look.

Maureen. She might. You never know.

Helen. I know. Go and look.

Pause.

Maureen. Okay.

There is a pause as Maureen moves and looks at the drawing.

Helen. Well?

Maureen picks it up and shows it to the others.

Maureen. I think it's your handbag.

There is silence.

Helen. There, you see? There's Helen..... I've fed her, bathed her, clothed her, cleared up her messes, apologised to strangers for her strange behaviour. Looked after her twenty-four hours a day for twenty years, and no cuddles or kisses in return, never; not even as a baby. And how does she see me?.... Helen is a handbag for her tissues and comb. The psychologists would have a field day with that one, don't you think?...... Of course, actually she knows exactly who Helen is, that much she does know, I assure you. But drawing my bag is just about as close as she gets to formally acknowledging my existence, that's all.

Pause.

Laura enters with a tray of coffee.

Laura. Coffee!..... Now. Maureen I know takes it black these days. How about you, Edna?

Edna. Milk, no sugar, please.

Laura. Fine. Helen?

Helen. (Trying to recover her composure). I'm the same.

Laura. And what will Judith have? I've got milk, fruit juice, whatever.

Helen. (Sharply). She has coffee like everyone else. Black, with sugar – one.

Laura. Fine.

Helen. She's not a child.

Laura. Of course.

Laura prepares the coffee. Judith watches her out of the corner of her eye.

Silence descends.

Laura. Say, you're all very quiet in here.

Pause. Then Gus takes back control.

Gus. Tongues are bitten – in concentration. Now, I was going to give you some helpful hints, wasn't I? The magical herbal extract has done its stuff... Look. (Holding out his shaking right hand). Steady as a rock – on the San Andreas fault.

Gus shuffles to his easel, takes off the top sheet of paper (still with the outline figure) and lets it fall. Judith shifts it to her own territory on the floor.

During the following demonstration she looks intently at the outline of the nude figure, then sets to work on adding detail to the outline. All this is unnoticed by the others who are watching Gus.

Gus. The eye..... Let us do what all great artist's do and examine it's anatomy.... It is not some almond shaped slit through which we peep at the world.  It is a sphere, an ‘eyeball’.

Let us imagine that the eye is an orange. (He draws a large faint circle. Again, he can go over fine pencil lines). The lids are the peel and the eyeball is the fruit inside. And let us open the eye; let us cut and remove a segment of the peel..... (He adds the appropriate lines). Comme ça.... Now we give it substance, remembering what it is – a sphere. (He adds a highlight with white chalk and shadow with charcoal) And thus it begins to take shape. But it is still an orange in isolation. Not much like an eye.... So let's add in the shadow of the nose at the side and the brow above, and the highlight of a cheekbone below, putting the eye in it's socket, as it were. (He does so). Add a pupil and iris, noting that its top is nearly always obscured by the lid; the whites of the eye; a few eyelashes...... And voilà!.... I spy with my little eye something beginning with eye.

Maureen. Brilliant.

Edna. That's very clever.

Gus. Always think of the structure that lies beneath. Don't just draw what you see; draw what you know.

Laura. (Going to Judith). Here's your coffee, Judith...... My that's good; really lovely!..... Look, she's drawn me.

The others immediately stop what they are doing.

Pause. 

Helen. You?

Laura. Sure.... Like I was last night when you arrived.

Gus. She's drawn you? The life class figure?

Laura. Sure..... What's the big deal? I don't mind her drawing me in the raw. Everybody else has. In fact she can draw me again; it's very flattering.

Edna. But Helen said she never draws people.

Laura. She has here. And it's really good. Come and look.

Gus. So, Joo Joo can't be reached?... Let's not even try.... (He goes to look at the drawing). And it's really rather good.

Helen comes to join the group gathering round Judith.

Helen. But that's your drawing, not hers; the one you did last night.

Gus. The outline, yes..... But she's made it into a complete figure, given it life.... Admit it. She's drawn a person. That's a human being; flesh and blood.

Laura. You mean this is the very first time she's drawn a person?

Gus. Yes.

Laura. Wow.... And it's me..... I'm flattered.

Gus. (Looking at the drawing). Yes, you certainly are..... But do you think Judith knows what flattery is?

Helen. What do you mean?

Gus. Would your daughter draw a younger, slimmer more nubile figure to flatter someone? Or would she draw exactly what she sees? (To Laura). I hate to disappoint you my darling, but I don't think this rather desirable creature she's drawn is you at all.

Helen takes the drawing from Gus with growing realisation.

She stares at it for a second then tears it up.

Laura. Hey!

Helen. She mustn't draw pictures like that. Not like that.

There is a shocked silence.

Gus. Brilliant, Helen.... You've just destroyed your daughter's first self portrait.

Pause.

Suddenly Judith throws a tantrum.

The change is dramatic. From angelic beauty to wild animal in an instant. She kicks and pummels the floor with her feet and fists, banging her head repeatedly on the boards, almost like a fit.

Helen. No! Please, Joo Joo, stop it! Stop it!... You'll hurt yourself!

She tries to contain Judith's movements but is met with flailing limbs.

Helen. Please.... Please!..... I didn't mean it. Really I didn't.... Only you shouldn't draw pictures like that.... Please stop! You're hurting yourself and that's hurting Helen!.... (Grabbing some new paper). Look. Look... Here's some more paper and charcoal... Draw a nice picture for us.... (But Judith rips it up and throws it away). (Pleading). Joo Joo, please!... All right.... I'm sorry.... Draw what you want. Helen won't tear it up again, she promises..... Only please stop!.... Please, Joo Joo!.... Please stop!!

But Judith continues her wild tantrum.

Helen. Her keys.... Where's her keys?..... Helen get Joo Joo's keys. (Pleading through tears). Please, Joo Joo. Please stop! You're hurting yourself and I can't bear it. You know I can't. Please, Joo Joo!

Laura. (Handing them to her). Here.

Judith snatches them, holds them to her and curls up into a tight ball.

Suddenly all is quiet.

Helen puts her arms round her.

Helen. There now.... There now... That's better.... Everything's all right now. (She kisses her head and strokes her hair). Helen won't do that again... Never again.... Never... I promise.

A Different Perspective: Preview

Scene 1. Friday Evening - Breaking The Ice.

Two easels face each other. At one sits Edna, at the other, Maureen. They are sketching each other.

Edna is in her sixties. Open in manner and with no pretensions of being artistic.

Maureen is in her twenties and is dressed in a self-consciously artistic manner. She has a skinny, girlish figure.

There is a long silence as they draw. Then Edna speaks.

Edna. I don't think you're going to like this, dear.

Maureen. (Graciously). Oh, I don't suppose it's any worse than mine.

Edna. I shouldn't bet on it..... I've seen better efforts from my grandson, and he's only five.

Maureen. Well, we all have to start somewhere. That's what I say.

There is a pause as they draw.

Edna. Lovely hair... You've got lovely hair.

Maureen. Thank you.

Edna. (Confidentially). I'm all right on hair. The hair looks quite good...... Just a pity about the face.

Maureen. Yes, well, they are difficult.

There is another long pause.

Edna. Do you think there'll be more of us? Only I was expecting quite a few.

Maureen. Probably.

Edna. And very quiet here isn't it?..... But I suppose that's all part of it.

Maureen. Yes.

Edna. (Looking at her drawing again). No... That's worse. Your nose is all crooked now. Have you got a rubber?..... Maureen, wasn't it?

Maureen. That's right, but Mo for short. Friends call me Mo.

Edna. Oh, right.... Mo.

Maureen. But I'm afraid not.

Edna. What?

Maureen. No rubber.

Edna. Oh.... Never mind. I expect there'll be one here somewhere.

Edna gets up and pokes around on the other easels.

Maureen. I shouldn't think so. Gus doesn't really approve of them.

Edna. Doesn't approve of them?

Maureen. He says that no part of the creative process should be erased. It dilutes the emotive content. And I tend to agree.

Edna. Dilutes the what?

Maureen. Every line on the paper expresses something you see. Makes a statement, conveys a message.

Edna. Oh.... (Coming back to her drawing). Well the only message this is conveying is that you're in need of plastic surgery, dear.

Gus enters.

Gus is about fifty, and he walks with the aid of a stick, his limb movements being somewhat unco-ordinated. He throws his legs out in front of him to move, having to lift his knees high to stop his feet dragging. This makes him look rather like a string puppet and at times - rather drunk. His left hand is more or less permanently in his pocket, the arm being partially paralysed, but it can just about hold his walking stick and provide support when he wants to use his other hand. One can see that in his hay days he probably struck quite a handsome figure, and although he now makes no attempt at elegance, he is still quite attractive, especially to young and impressionable females. There is a slight trace of Irish background and certainly Irish whiskey in his manner of delivery.

Gus. Greetings good ladies! and welcome to the summer residence and weekend art class of Augustus O'Casey RA. Bit of a mouthful, so just call me Gus.... Now, I must first apologise for not being here to receive you, only two of your fellow pupils seem to have gone astray.... Telephone calls going backwards and forwards like nobody's business.

Edna. Not an accident I hope.

Gus. No, no. Bit of a domestic crisis or something. Laura's on the phone even as we speak.

Maureen. So it might be just the two of us?

Gus. Well, hopefully not..... It's the husband on the line now. Says he's just packed them off in a taxi. All the way from Surrey, too. God knows what that cost..... Anyway: introductions.... Maureen I know, so -

Maureen. Mo, Gus.

Gus. Sorry - Mo I was forgetting. So you must be - don't tell me - er......

Edna. Edna.

Gus. Edna, Edna, of course, Edna. Forgive me for not shaking hands, Edna, (indicating his stick) only if I let go of this thing I tend to go arse over tit - pardon my French.

Edna. That's all right.

Gus. I expect our regular here has told you all about my little difficulty?

Edna. Well actually -

Gus. A crack on the nut. I won't bother you with details of the how, why and wherefore; the blow by blow as it were. Save it for a rainy evening or something. Anyway, that's what did it. Dodgy on the old legs and the left arm's pretty useless.

Edna. Oh dear.

Gus. It wouldn't be so bad, but I was left handed.

Edna. Really?..... That's unlucky.

Gus. Yes..... Leonardo Da Vinci was as well, of course.

Edna. Unlucky?

Gus. (Pause, then a smile at Edna). No, left handed..... Might have been unlucky too, of course; don't think so though.... Anyway, so as the saying goes - ‘those that can't do it - teach it’.... Well, never was much good anyway if the truth be known.

Maureen. Don't listen to him, he was brilliant.

Gus. Thank you - Mo (Looking at the drawings). I see you're scribbling straight away.

Edna. Yes. But it's pretty awful.

Gus. Never mind. Everybody's got to start somewhere. Anyway, it doesn't really matter. It's only what I call an ‘ice breaker sketch’.

Edna. (With a laugh). Still. I don't suppose it's meant to look like one.

Gus. (Another polite smile). No... Anyway, if you'll excuse me - just passing through on my way to the cellar to look out the plonk for tonight's dinner.

Maureen. Can I help, Gus?

Gus. No - Mo.... Can't have one of the guests falling down the cellar steps, can we? Despite appearances, I'm used to them..... Now. We'll have drinks and dinner in a while. (To Edna). Laura's in charge of the food - magnificent. Then after that we'll throw you in at the deep end with a little figure drawing exercise... See you both in a bit.

Maureen. Okay Gus.

Gus. And if you hear an almighty crash, don't worry - but you'll have to send out for the Sainsbury's Sauvignon.

Edna. Right.

Gus lurches out at an alarming speed.

There is a pause.

Edna. I didn't know he was - er....

Maureen. Disabled? No.... They don't put it in the brochure.

Edna. No, well they wouldn't I suppose. I mean it might put some people off.

Maureen. Yes..... Some people.

Edna. I didn't quite catch what it was he - er....

Maureen. A head injury. His co-ordination is gone.

Edna. Oh, head injury... Nasty.... I don't know why it is but - well, the head - that's always a bit - you know.... Not like a broken leg or something.

Maureen. And he was a brilliant artist. I've seen some of his work.

Edna. Oh yes?

Maureen. He doesn't let many people see them, you know.... Just - well - you know..... And like I say, they're brilliant. He was into Post Modernism and Pittura Culta long before Mariani.

Edna. Was he? Fancy.

Maureen. There's a Caravaggio influence, I suppose - but they're mainly nudes.

Edna. Oooh.

Maureen. His mother was Italian, you see.

Edna. (Not entirely seeing the connection). Ah.

Maureen. And his father was Irish.... I think that's brilliant.

Edna. (Even more lost). Yes.

Maureen. When he came here from Italy in the 60's he influenced a lot of the artists of the time, David Hockney and everything.

Edna. Oh, I think I've heard of him.

Maureen. And it must have been fantastic back then, really fantastic. (In awe). ‘The 60's’... Actually I feel my karma is sort of back there.

Edna. Your what, dear?

Maureen. My karma, my spiritual being - because I can feel all that mood and atmosphere of that era pulling at me. (Putting her hands to her abdomen). I can feel it pulling at me right here..... I was born too late, you see.

Edna. (A polite smile). Well I never.

Pause. They work on.

Edna. How did it happen then? I mean his head injury. Car accident or something?

Maureen. Actually he doesn't like to talk about it, or just brushes it off making up some story about falling out of a window. But actually (Quietly). Well actually - he's a bit of a hero.

Edna. Really?

Maureen. He doesn't like people knowing, of course. He's very modest about it.

Edna. Yes?

Maureen. And actually he made me promise not to tell anyone else.

Edna. Oh well... I wouldn't want to pry, dear.

Maureen. But he's a walking miracle. You see he has - well ‘something’ still lodged in his brain. They couldn't remove it, too dangerous.

Edna. Never. What is it?

Maureen. Well that would sort of give the game away.

Edna. Oh.... Right.

There is a long pause while Edna waits hopefully for more clues. She is disappointed so changes the subject.

Edna. What is it you do then, by the way? Day to day, that is?

Maureen. Well, I'd like to get into art school, Goldsmiths College, actually. Make a career out of this.

Edna. Oh yes?

Maureen. And Gus says I've got the potential. He's trying to pull strings. But at the moment - just at the moment that is, just till I can get in somewhere... Well, I'm in orthodontics and dental hygiene.

Edna. Oh. (Not entirely sure what this is). That's nice, dear.

Edna gets to work on her drawing again.

Edna. So - Mo. You've been on these things before then?

Maureen. Yes. This is my fourth weekend.

Edna. Fourth!.... You'll be quite a dab-hand then.

Maureen. Well, I hope I've improved.

Edna. I've had a go at everything, you know, since my husband died. Pottery, sculpture, basket weaving, even car maintenance - which is a bit daft because I haven't got a car.... Still - might come in handy sometime..... Evening classes they were, of course. This is my first live-in weekend thing. Give it a go, I thought. Well why not?

Maureen. Yes.

Edna. (Looking at her drawing). Not very good at it mind.

Maureen. Oh, well.

Edna. Still... Keep at it, eh?

Maureen. Yes.

Edna. (Looking at her drawing and shaking her head). But I'm definitely going to need a rubber.

The lights fade and Laura enters. She is in her thirties and is American. She is wearing a brightly coloured silk wrap. She addresses the audience.

Laura. It's kind 'a weird.... The first thing she asked was "how many other people had made reservations and how many we accommodated in total?".... I told her that two had booked and we catered for six to eight depending on room sharing. Well, she said there'd only be two of them but she'd pay double so long as I didn't take any more bookings. Well, I thought - fine by me, sweetheart..... Fewer mouths to feed, fewer beds to make, less crap to take. She said the money was not important to her and she wanted a small group because her daughter was ‘sensitive’..... Now I am used to the strange clientele that Gussie seems to attract like flies to a fly paper, but -

Oh, I'm Laura, by the way. I kind 'a come with the wallpaper - but, as Gussie puts it, I strip more easily.

She turns with her back to the audience and slips out of the silk wrap and takes up a semi-reclining modelling pose. Her body twisted so that her head is in profile.

The lighting comes up: warm and intimate.

Edna and Maureen have turned their chairs slightly to face the recumbent figure. Gus has a high easel and stool, customised to his physical requirements. Particularly noticeable is a shelf, wide enough to take a tumbler of whisky. Just at present he is shuffling around examining his pupils' work.

It is after dinner and everyone is ‘relaxed’ after their meal and wine, Edna in particular. There is also a slight sense of forced humour to cover the embarrassment of naked flesh on display. Laura herself, however, is not in the least embarrassed.

Laura. It's quite simple, you just fold the liquefied fruit and sugar mixture into the whipped cream. But the trick is to drain off some of the juice first and refrigerate the remainder to thicken the dissolved sugar.

Edna. (Writing this down on her drawing). Ah.

Laura. That way it all stays nice and stiff and the cream doesn't separate like it would if the fruit was warm.

Edna. Perhaps that's where I've been going wrong.

Gus. Remember, Maureen, keep the lines flowing nice and free, then really think hard about the light and shade.

Maureen. Right.

Laura. And I used the left-over juice with more sugar to make the syrup of course.

Edna. (Writing all this down). Right.

Gus. Your chalk is light; your charcoal shadow. And it's the use of light and shade that separates the sphere from the circle, Leonardo from Giotto.

Maureen. Yes.... Right.

Edna. And how much sugar did you use, in total then?

Laura. Well about eight ounces in the fruit and another four in the syrup.

Maureen. That's an awful lot. It's not good for the teeth you know.

Laura. It's not good for the waist-line either, honey, but it tastes divine.

Maureen. Some of the children's teeth we get at the surgery are just terrible, and it makes it much more difficult to create a really nice smile.

Edna. Yes. I suppose so..... I thought I tasted some lemon in there too.

Laura. Just the zest, it takes the sweetness off.

Edna. Right. I'll have a go at making it next time my Glory and the kids are over. (Writing). Add the zest of a lemon.

Gus. I hate to interrupt this little domestic science lesson, but are you going to start soon, Edna?

Edna. Sorry, yes...... I just wanted to jot that down..... Right.... Now then..... Hoo, hoo... (Singing to herself). "If they could see me now - "... Makes me feel like a real artist, all this. You wait till I tell my Glory. Her old mum doing a spot o' ‘life class’. I hope you're not getting cold there, dear.

Laura. I'm fine.

Edna. And I think you're very brave. I mean you must get all sorts along to these weekends.

Laura. By that you mean men.

Edna. Well, yes.

Laura. Actually, not often.

Gus. We had a spotty faced youth back in the spring, on holiday from public school with his big sister. I needn't tell you which of Laura's little mouth watering delicacies he was interested in.

Edna. Tch, tch, tch.

Gus. No doubt his descriptions kept him in fags for months back at school.... Speaking of which, does anyone mind if I er......

Edna. No, no.

Gus is quite expert at propping himself up with his stick in his bad hand, taking out a packet of cigarettes with his good hand, selecting one from the bunch and pulling it out of the packet with his lips. Finding the end with the lighter is another matter.

Gus. She's modelled for the greatest, you know..... Hockney - in delicate pastel pinks, Bacon - looking like bacon, the streaky variety, and even Andy Warhol. Only you couldn't see her for the soup.

Laura. It's not the modelling I mind, it's Gus's elitist and very old jokes.

Gus. I know, I know..... You weren't even born in that era.... Well, just. (He is struggling with the lighter). Bugger it.... Maureen - I mean Mo, be an absolute angel and.....

Maureen. Of course.

Maureen holds Gus's hand steady while he lights up.

Gus. Thanks...... (Pulling on the cigarette). Ah..... Yes. (Indicating the recumbent Laura). The female form in its natural state. The artist's greatest challenge.

Laura. Not to mention the plastic surgeon's. But gravity wins out in the end, the bitch.

Gus. Quite. (Moving to his easel to take a swig of his whisky and speaking with his cigarette between his lips). The male figure is easier of course - functional, like a machine, and strangely anonymous - but the female of the species?.... There is always something elusive there, yes?... We want the image to say something more. Young, old, beautiful, ugly, it doesn't matter, it holds an interest, a fascination.

Laura. Well it does for men.

Gus. (Raising his glass). Cheers.

Edna. They're very difficult to draw. I'll tell you that though.

Gus. Oh, absolutely. (Returning to his eccentric perambulations about the room). But I like to throw my pupils in at the deep end - eh, Maureen? Always have.

Maureen. And we repeat the life class on the last evening you see. And you'll be surprised at how much progress you can make in just two days. It's brilliant; gives you a real sense of achievement.

Gus. Don't give all my secrets away, my love.

Maureen. Sorry.

Gus. (Looking at Maureen's drawing, steadying himself on her shoulder) That's very good.

Maureen. Thanks.

Gus. But look at the hands again. Try not to think of them as five fingers and a thumb stuck on the end of each arm. That way they always end up like a bunch of bananas.

Maureen. (Rather deflated). Oh.

Gus. Just capture the overall shape. Think of a slender mitten.

Maureen. Right.

Gus. But your breasts are lovely.

Maureen. (Colouring up). What?..... Oh, thanks.

Laura. Is that a compliment to me too, Gussie? Or just a suggestive remark to the blushing young Maureen?

Gus. Oh a compliment to you, my dear. Gravity - ‘the bitch’ hasn't won yet.

Laura. Who are you kidding?

Gus. "To you is given a body more graceful than the other animals. To you power of apt and various movements, to you most sharp and delicate senses, to you wit and reason like an immortal god......."

Laura. Well thank you, Gus. I never knew you cared.

Edna. Was that Shakespeare or something?

Gus. Alberti

Edna. Who was he?

Gus. An architect.

Laura. (With sarcasm). Great.

Gus. So he knew all about gravity.

Laura. Makes me feel like a bridge or something.

Gus. (He is now looking at Edna's drawing). Well now......

Edna. I know.... Awful isn't it.

Gus. No, no..... Well yes... But I've seen worse efforts win The Turner, and nothing we can't improve upon with a few simple techniques..... Rule number one - don't worry about the detail. It's not the detail we want, you see, it's the form, the line, the curves, not the detail.

Laura. Please... Spare me the detail, honey, I'd rather not know.

Gus. I will attempt to demonstrate. Right handed, I'm afraid, so make allowances.

Gus moves to perch on his stool and takes up a stick of charcoal.

Laura. Here comes his party piece. Get ready to throw him grapes. He catches them in his teeth for an encore.

Gus. Now.... Let's see what we can do with just six lines, shall we?..... We can do this..... (He draws an upright match stick man - head, body, arms and legs). One, two, three, four, five, six..... Not very convincing.... Or we can do this..... (With just a few lines he draws a very elegant semi-reclining figure. But he can trace over faint pencil lines invisible to the audience). One, - two, - three, - four, - five, - six.

Maureen. Isn't he brilliant?

Edna. It's not fair... You make it look so easy. How do you do it?

Gus. Years of practice, that's all. Watch a good brickie, my love, his skill is no less miraculous. (Indicating the drawing). This is within reach of you all.

Edna. I shouldn't bet on it.

There is a voice off-stage.

Helen. Hello?.... Any one at home?

Gus. Ah.... (Singing softly to the others). "Our two little sheep who have gone astray"...... (Calling). Through here!

Helen. (Still off). Judith? Where are you going?.... Judith?!

Judith enters.

Judith is about twenty but looks younger. Her fragile beauty and far away look combined with curly blond hair and child-like but delicate movement is quite riveting to the eye. When relaxed she walks lightly, sometimes on tip-toes, tracing the contours of objects with her delicate fingers and tapping shiny surfaces. When alarmed she stands stiff and frozen. The clothes she wears are differing shades of yellow and she carries a truly huge bunch of keys of differing shapes and sizes threaded on to linked rings. She never makes eye contact, wears a constant blank expression and appears to live in a world of her own; which is exactly correct, or at least, the world she lives in is quite different from ours. She looks out at our world with half averted eyes.

She enters the stage as though it were empty of people and comes well in before she sees the naked Laura. She stares at her figure, not her face.

The others stare at this curious visitor for several seconds.

Laura. Hi.

Helen enters.

She is a middle class, middle age woman, smartly dressed and attractive. The first impression is that she is intelligent but somewhat nervous, and at times her natural reserve and well educated voice can give an air of superiority. Underneath there is something not quite right about her.

Helen. I'm sorry we're late. I do apologise, but we had trouble getting my daughter ready, and..... (She takes in the scene). Oh, I do beg your pardon... I didn't know you'd be..... I'm sorry....

Gus. Greetings, good lady, and welcome to the summer residence of Augustus O'Casey RA.

He lurches alarmingly towards Helen who looks even more put- out.

Gus. It's all right. I haven't had one over the eight. The old balance isn't what it was. I won't bother you with the details, save it for a rainy evening or something.

Helen. I see.... I didn't -

Gus. Glad you made it after all, though. And as you can see we took the liberty of starting our first lesson without you. I hope you don't mind.

Helen. Yes.... No.... So I see..... Judith..... Don't stare, it's impolite.... Joo Joo, please.

But Judith is still absorbed in Laura - as a curious object, not a person; now squatting down next to her.

Helen. Sorry. I just didn't expect...... Well not straight away, anyway.... Joo Joo, please.

Judith's stare finally makes Laura rather uncomfortable. She rises and puts the silk wrap back on.

Judith explores the room. Her curiosity is drawn to Maureen and Edna's drawings. These she looks at out of the corner of her eye, flicking glances back at Laura. She clutches the keys to her. Maureen and Edna are rather embarrassed, not knowing whether to look at her or not.

Gus. Yes, well.... Perhaps we'll carry on with this later. On this weekend, dear lady, we emulate the great masters of antiquity in attempting to capture that most elusive of images, the human figure. Sometimes clothed and sometimes unclothed. I hope it won't embarrass you.

Helen. (Regaining her composure with a nervous smile). No, of course not.

Gus. This isn't a page three photo session. This is art.

Helen. Yes. I quite understand.... (With another nervous smile). And after all, it's not as if it was a man.

Gus. No. (Enjoying her discomfort). That comes later.

Helen. Oh.

Laura. Gussie?.... (To Helen). Ignore him, he's just teasing... Now, I expect you want to go to your rooms. I'll show you. (To Helen - extending her hand). I'm Laura by the way.

Helen. (Shaking hands). How do you do.... I'm Mrs Taylor - Helen. Well, naturally you know that... We spoke on the telephone.

Laura. Sure. ... Several times.

There is a pause as their attention goes to Judith.

Helen. Yes.... And this is Judith.... Shake hands, Joo Joo.

Judith goes round the group formally shaking hands. Her eyes are fixed on their hands, not their faces. She grips the keys to herself with her other arm and holds her breath while making contact.

Helen. She's autistic. I tell everyone straight away. It's easier. Then they know.

Judith reaches Edna.

Edna. (A little embarrassed). Oh... Hello, dear.

Helen. You mustn't mind if she's rather far away, detached. It's just the way she is.

Judith reaches Maureen.

Maureen. Hi. I'm Maureen, but you can call me Mo.

Helen. I'm afraid she doesn't speak.

Maureen. Oh.

Helen. She never has.

Judith reaches Laura. She nearly makes eye contact, but then turns her attention to Laura's coloured silk wrap.

Laura. Hello, Judith. I'm Laura..... Do you like my gown? Colourful isn't it?

Judith breaks away from this warm and friendly approach.

Helen. Actually she's very intelligent and draws very nice pictures. Well, that's why I brought her, naturally.... I've got some here. I thought you might like to see them.

Gus. (Sceptical). I can't wait.

She has them folded in her handbag.

Judith is standing in front of Gus patiently holding out her hand, but she is still looking at Laura out of the corner of her eye.

Gus. Hello, my angel. I'm sorry I can't shake hands. If I let go of this I'm likely to fall on top of you.

Helen. I'm sorry. (To Judith). It doesn't matter, Judith. He can't.

Judith still stands in front of Gus patiently holding out her hand.

Gus. Oh well, I'll have a go then.

He swaps over the stick and unsteadily takes her hand.

Helen. Joo Joo. It doesn't matter; the man can't.

Judith reacts to the larger hand and firm grip, particularly since Gus is using it to steady himself. She is very unsure of this curious man who can't walk properly.

Gus. Yes he can. Augustus O'Casey at your service..... Pretty little thing isn't she?

Gus holds on for some time before letting go. This does not go unnoticed by Helen.

Helen. The drawings.

Gus. Yes.

Judith turns and sees the folded drawings coming out of Helen's handbag. She takes the first and with some concern and a deep frown, tries to flatten out the creases by spreading it on the floor and smoothing it with her hands.

Helen. Well that one is the big house just across the road from us. And here's a car and a lorry.

Laura. Hey! They look really good.

Gus. (Genuinely impressed). Certainly quite accomplished.

Helen. And this is Northampton House in London. It's where her father works, so we go there sometimes. It's the headquarters of his company. He's in the travel business - cruises.

Laura. Really?

Edna. But they're marvellous, dear. I wish I could draw like that. (To Judith). Who's a clever girl then?

Gus. The perspective is very impressive.

Maureen. A little bit clinical perhaps, but -

Judith snatches the drawings and flattens out the creases again.

Helen. Don't snatch, Joo Joo...... Sorry... And here's - well as you can see they're just electricity pylons.... But they're very good. I mean one can see what they are.

Gus. Yes... Electricity pylons.

Judith snatches the drawing and flattens out the creases again.

Helen. Joo Joo. Please!.... She's not always terribly well mannered I'm afraid. And she's possessive about her drawings, always sorting them out and gets upset if one goes missing...... Oh, and this is the one she does the most.

She takes out a much larger drawing, folded like a map. She unfolds it.

Helen. There.

Pause.

Judith now takes her pile of drawings and pins them to an easel

Gus. It's the underground map.

Helen. That's right.... She likes maps, especially the coloured ones. But this is her favourite. She does lots of these.

Laura. Lots of them? You mean she copies it again and again out of a diary or something?

Helen. Oh no.... (This is her proud moment). She does it from memory.

There is a pause as they take this in.

Gus. She does that from memory?!

Edna. But it's got all the stations and names and everything.

Helen. Oh yes. They're all there. You could find your way by it if you wanted to.

Laura. It's fantastic.

Maureen. Amazing.

Judith wanders across to examine Gus's charcoal sketch.

Helen. All her drawing is done from memory. She just looks at something very carefully for a minute or two then she can draw it. Sometimes days later, weeks later.

Gus. Extraordinary.

Helen. Yes.... It's Joo Joo's special talent.

Judith is intrigued by the stick of charcoal. She rubs it on her fingers, smells it, etc.

Edna. You mean she's one of them- oh, what is it they call them?

Laura. An autistic savant.

Edna. That's it.

Helen. (This touches a nerve). I don't like the word..... Its a label. She's not an exhibit.... She's my daughter. (She looks across to her). Joo Joo, mind that charcoal on your clean clothes. (She goes to her). Look it's all over your hand. Here, Helen wipe it off with a tissue. (She gets one from her handbag). I've brought a smock for her to wear when she's painting, but I don't suppose she'll wear it because it isn't yellow.....

Judith stands passively looking at Gus's drawing while Helen wipes the charcoal off her fingers.

As you can see she has rather a fixation with yellow just at the moment. She's always very fussy about her clothes, you wouldn't believe the time we spend in shops finding things she likes. Hours and hours.... Days even...... There now, all gone.

But Judith immediately picks up the charcoal and begins to add a rope and gallows to the stick-man.

Helen. No, Joo Joo, I've just cleaned your hands. And you mustn't do that. That's the man's drawing, not yours. I do beg your pardon.

Gus. It doesn't matter.

Helen. Yes it does. She shouldn't do that.

Gus. But tell me. Has she seen someone hung recently then? Or in the past few weeks?

Judith makes six dashes, then writes ‘Joo Joo’ over the top of them.

Helen. (Missing the humour completely). No, of course not, they don't hang people now do they? She used to play the word game with my husband - you know, hangman - when we were trying to get her to understand words.

Gus. I see.

Helen. She never really comprehended the principals, or just lost interest, I don't know which. It's always very hard to tell when there's so little communication. She can read though. Well, enough for sign-boards. And her name, as you can see.

Gus. Very clever.

Helen. (To Judith). Look, black fingers again. (Taking more tissues from her bag). You'll be using up all of Helen's tissues. (She cleans Judith's fingers again). Still, I packed plenty more in the top compartment of my case. Best to be prepared, as Gordon always says..... There now. (As Helen puts the dirty tissues back in her bag Judith takes out a comb). Yes. Helen's comb. That's right. But your hair doesn't need combing just now. (She takes the comb and puts it back in the bag, but Judith immediately takes it out again). Joo Joo, please..... Oh, very well then..... (To the others). Sorry. I'm sorry. A little ritual. Helen's tissues then Helen's comb.

Edna. She's very tidy.

Judith stands patiently looking at Gus's drawing waiting for her hair to be combed.

Helen. (Combing Judith's hair). Yes. We like things to be tidy... But goodness, gracious, she wasn't always though.

Laura. And lovely hair.

Helen. Oh, yes.

Gus. Quite a beauty.

Judith glances across at Laura then back at the drawing, then reaches out to touch and trace the charcoal lines.

Helen. No, Joo Joo! (Pulling her quite vigorously away). Now stop it!

Judith is totally passive to this sharp reprimand. More unperturbed than the others.

Helen. I'm sorry but she has to be told off sometimes. She has to know that there are rules. It's very important. Because rules are important aren't they, we all know that. Knowing what to do, what's expected of one. I always find it helps - (She breaks off). Well..... We'd better unpack before she does any more harm.

Laura. I'll show you your rooms.

Helen. Thank you..... We are near each other aren't we, as I requested? Only I don't like to be too far away.

Laura. Sure, just like you asked.

Helen. And there is a light in the corridor, isn't there? She keeps her door ajar, you see. She likes just a glimmer.

Laura. Sure.

Helen. Come along then, Judith.

But Judith doesn't move. She just stares at the charcoal sketch.

Gus. We'll see you both later then.

Helen. Yes. We'll look forward to it, won't we, Judith?

Gus. And I'm sure we can do something to help your daughter.... As Aristotle said - "Art completes what nature cannot bring to a finish".

Helen. (Rather blankly). Does it?..... Joo Joo? We're going to find your bedroom.

Judith comes to and walks out with purpose.

Laura and Helen follow.

Helen. (As she goes). Judith? Don't wander off now..... Judith?

The others watch them go.

Pause.

Maureen. Well.

Gus. As you say Maureen.... Well.

Edna. She's very strange isn't she?

Gus. Do you mean the girl or the mother?

Edna. I mean the girl. But don't they have special schools for them?.... I mean, I don't mind her bringing her or anything, but......... Well.

The lights fade to black.

The lighting changes to show just Laura and Helen coming on with cases.

Helen. I've brought lots of her own things. Only it's best if she has familiar surroundings. Rules and routines; they help us get through each day.

Laura. Fine.

Helen. Judith is very sensitive, and she can find strangers frightening. (Looking off). Judith?

Laura. We're quite normal you know. We don't shoot heroin or dance naked for Beelzebub or anything - honest.

Helen. No, I don't suppose you do. (Preoccupied, still looking off). Joo Joo? It's just that.... Well, I can't help feeling that bringing her here is perhaps a mistake after all.

Laura. Of course not.

Helen. I'm just not sure.

Laura. Look. I know what it is.... It's Gus... But you mustn't mind him, honey. He's an artist. They're all like that, or get like that. They teach it in art school along with perspective.... Tell you what, if he gets too much for you, do what I do. Just kick his stick away and watch him collapse in a heap, it's very funny.

Helen looks shocked.

Helen. Oh, I'd never do that. Not to someone with a disability.

Laura looks at her quizzically.

Laura. I was joking, honey.

Helen. (With a nervous smile). Oh.

Judith wanders on and past Helen and Laura without a glance.

Helen. Ah, Judith, there you are. Can you help, please?..... Judith?... Joo Joo? (But she is gone). Oh dear.

Laura. (Picking up a case). Don't worry, we can manage these.

Laura starts to go until she realises that Helen is not following but just standing staring into nothing. She turns back.

Laura. Helen?.... Mrs Taylor?

Helen. (Still staring at nothing). I thought I ought to do something about her drawing. I felt it was what other mothers would do in the circumstances...... So when I saw this weekend advertised I thought I ought to bring her. And Gordon said it was okay, so that was fine.... I was right wasn't I?

Laura. Sure..... Look, you're tired after your journey. Have a bath and relax. I'll have a meal ready for you that'll blow you taste buds, promise. Does Judith like home made ice cream? Real ice cream?

Helen. Well....

Laura. She'll adore it. She will.... You've got a very talented daughter there, you know? And beautiful. You're a lucky woman.

Helen. Joo Joo is very - special.... That's what I say to myself.

Laura. Sure..... And you - er.... You say your husband's in the cruise business?

Helen. Yes.

Laura. I've always thought it looked idyllic. Cruising in the South Pacific. I bet you've been on loads.

Helen. Well, one or two, but it's difficult with Judith.

Laura. Yes, I suppose it must be.

Helen. And I don't like travelling.

Laura. Pity. (Pause, then she puts her hand on Helen's arm). It'll be fine.

Helen stiffens just very slightly.

Helen. Yes... Well... If you say so.

Laura. You'll see.

Pause.

Helen. Yes.... I'd better find Judith.

Helen walks out of the light leaving Laura to shrug her shoulders.

Laura. Don't they believe in therapy over here?

Laura struggles off with the cases.