In the Moss Read online

janet: And it’s not even finished, is it?

  nav: Janet?

  janet: Yeah?

  (nav looks at her.)

  nav: Nothing.

  janet: How many brothers you got?

  nav: None.

  janet: Sisters?

  nav: Two.

  janet: Uh oh. I’m from here, by the way – well, sort of, but anyway, yeah.

  nav: Uganda, me.

  (He joins her. The following should be fast.)

  janet: Heck. Thought you were going to say Bradford then. But well, wow. Did you always want to be a—?

  nav: No.

  janet: Okaaaay…

  nav: I wasn’t meant to be there.

  janet: What, Bradford?

  nav: Be real. No. In the riot.

  janet: Thought… well… OK, then. Be careful with mine! That’s cotton and viscose. I’m not having it shrink on me again! Bloody sizing is all over the place.

  nav: All over the place. Yeah. That’s me.

  janet: You don’t look like you’re from—

  nav: Oh God. Don’t say that. Oh, OK, fine. But don’t say that.

  janet: You can ask me too! If you fancy.

  nav: One day we’re at home, and the next, Dad says Amin has given us just days to get out. Days. And that was it. We left. With nothing but each other. Or… you know.

  janet: Sure.

  (Pause.)

  I’m shit at caring about people. I thought you should know that.

  nav: Yeah, you really don’t need to share that with me.

  janet: I’m the over-sharer type. Always have been. Let me know if it starts annoying you.

  nav: I will.

  (They stare at each other.)

  janet: Why do you always feel just a little bit less scared when there’s two of you scared together?

  nav: Yeah, but why does it have to happen here? In the Moss?

  (Pause.)

  What if…

  janet: Is he—

  nav: And I’m a—

  janet: What would that make me? You know?

  both: He was my first and I can’t even—

  janet: You’re a flaming nurse. You’re surrounded by death every day, and you’re going to be for a very, very long time. You can’t be like this.

  (They both catch a strange scent and smell themselves.)

  both: I smell of blood.

  nav: I need a shower.

  janet: I need a Valium.

  both: Pull yourself together!

  nav: You just need to hold it together a little while longer.

  janet: I know.

  nav: I was talking to myself.

  (The radio crackles again from his belt. He picks it up.)

  radio voiceover: WHAT IS GOING ON, GUPTA? IT’LL BE GOING ON YOUR REPORT IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO THAT NURSE!

  (He turns the volume down frantically and ignores it.)

  janet: Maybe I should change. I’m really sticky.

  (He wipes himself down. She’s terrified. He’s blank. She inhales. He inhales. She continues to clean ferociously. He tries to concentrate. There is an awkward silence between them.)

  nav: There’s a story we were told, back in Uganda. Before I’d even heard of a place called Moss Side. And Manchester. And everything here.

  (She doesn’t look up. During the following, she cleans faster and faster.)

  So one day, in a village outside of Darjeeling which no one can find, there was a Brahmin, a holy man, who passed a tiger in a trap. The tiger pled for his release, promising not to eat the Brahmin. ‘Let me out of this cage, oh kind one!’ cried the tiger. The man, see, sets the tiger free out of pity, but no sooner is the tiger out of the cage than he says he is going to eat the man after all. The man is horrified, outraged, and tells the tiger just how unjust he is; so they agree to resolve the issue by asking the judgement of the first three things they encounter. The first thing they meet is a tree, who has suffered greatly at the hands of humans, and answers that the tiger should eat the Brahmin. Next, they come across a buffalo, who has been exploited and mistreated by humans, and agrees it is fair and just that the Brahmin should be eaten. Next, they meet a jackal, who is more sympathetic towards the man. Feigning ignorance, he asks the tiger to show him the trap. When he is taken to it, he still claims not to understand, so the tiger gets in to demonstrate – at which moment the jackal leaps over and shuts him in. He tells the man that he should never see the tiger again, and he should forget all about the incident. (Pause.) Janet? Hello?

  janet: It’s the same blood on us both, isn’t it, when you think about it?

  (A siren goes past.)

  nav: Well, I—

  janet: So, the tiger just gets tricked back into the cage?

  nav: I—

  janet: What’s the point in that?

  (nav scrubs a bit harder.)

  I think the jackal should eat the man instead.

  nav: What?

  janet: The riot.

  nav: Yeah?

  janet: How many tigers were with you?

  nav: I guess there were—

  janet: More than you.

  (Pause.)

  nav (looking down at the clothes): It’s not your fault.

  (She scrubs harder. He tries to catch up with her.)

  janet (smirking): It’s never the nurse’s fault, remember?

  nav: It wasn’t, though.

  (She scrubs harder.)

  janet: I know.

  nav: No, you really—

  janet (snapping): Here’s a story for you. Once upon a time, a girl was born in Manchester. Her daddy was born somewhere else. But Manchester broke him apart. Into so many pieces – they were scattered so far. And all she wanted was to put him back together. And she couldn’t find all the pieces of him to make him better again. So he went to go find those pieces for her. And her mum still loved her. And wanted her to grow up and do the things she couldn’t do. So she did. Her best to, anyway.

  (nav looks at her, concerned. She reacts with a shrug.)

  Blah blah blah. The bloody end! How’s that for a flaming fairy tale for you? No tigers, no princes, no nothing. I’m still here. I’m still here!

  nav: So am I.

  janet: Ow!

  nav: What?

  janet: Your button. It scratched me!

  nav: Mine? You mean yours!

  janet: It was yours, and ow, that really hurt!

  nav: You shouldn’t have been—

  janet: I have plasters in the bathroom.

  nav: I’ll get one.

  (He leaves for the bathroom. janet is left with the uniform jacket and basin. The water is tinged a sludgy crimson.)

  Where are they?

  (She plunges her hand in the basin of water.)

  janet (to herself): It was your fault. Your fault. Get over it, stupid girl. Come on, stupid bitch, not with a police constable! (To nav:) Bottom shelf!

  (She rises quickly and clears the basin to the side and hangs the scrubs and jacket on the back of two chairs. They hang, dripping a little, throughout the scene.)

  nav: None left!

  janet: Oh well. Not that bad if you look at it, see? Fancy a drink?

  nav: I can’t. I’m on duty.

  janet: I’m not. You ever been on a night out with a group of student nurses? Wow, that’s messy!

  nav: No.

  janet: Shame.

  nav: Seen ’em, though. You lot can put them away.

  janet: Sure can, Constable!

  nav: Don’t say it like that.

  janet: Like what?

  nav: Like that.

  janet: Yes, sir!

  nav: Constable Gupta.

  janet: Do you do this often?

  (She chuckles sarcastically. He doesn’t.)

  nav: Maybe we should just get through this as professionally as we can.

  janet: Yes, sir. I mean, Constable.

  nav: Well, someone’s got to be professional in all of this. Someone has got to stop it.

  janet: We
tried that all ready tonight.

  nav: Just have to wait it out.

  janet: A drink would be nice. Helps you to forget.

  nav: Maybe we should remember, all right?

  janet: What’s worth remembering about 1981?

  (Pause.)

  nav: You’re a good person, Janet.

  janet: Fuck off.

  (They laugh.)

  I messed up. I can’t keep making mistakes any more. All I’ve ever done is fuck up stuff. And I get the one job where if you make a mistake, people die. PEOPLE. DIE.

  nav: You’re a good person, I can tell. You have pink hair.

  janet: Could you stop being so bloody nice? I need you to be the pig you are. I want a policeman in here to take me out there.

  nav: We don’t arrest people for doing their job.

  janet: But I killed someone tonight. I did. I did. Me. And you should do something about that. I’m sick, sick, sick of being told I’m a good person. You know, they laugh at us behind our backs. Trying to make a difference, and I’m only making it worse. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t!

  nav: I don’t believe you.

  janet: I didn’t give a toss about making a difference.

  (Pause.)

  nav: Maybe we should have some tea…

  janet: Don’t go through my cupboards!

  nav: Bit of vodka, maybe? (Trying to distract her.) A dribble of something that resembles shandy? Well, someone’s classier than they seem.

  janet: I can’t do this any more.

  nav: Oh, now.

  janet: What? You always dreamt of being a little PC Plod doing the rounds, with your little hat and little baton, whistling down the road?

  nav: This is the stress talking.

  janet: Stop talking to me like we’re friends.

  nav: Would you rather a prison guard?

  janet: You can’t keep me here.

  nav: And I’m protecting Moss Side.

  janet: From what? What if it’s you, not me, they’re throwing shit at?

  nav: We can’t be sure, but we need to stay here. And, by the way, your bedside manner must be really, really outstanding.

  janet: I just want to keep going,

  Going…

  Going…

  Going…

  Until it can…

  nav: Stop.

  Stop it.

  (They move and begin making the tea together during the following; only the mugs should be real. janet makes a little roar as she passes the ornamental lion.)

  janet: I was trained to care. I’m in the corner. Doctors do the mains. They drive home to the detached and the dog. We’re not paid enough to take too much time. I lost that boy today.

  nav: If you really didn’t care, you’d have forgotten about Ryan. But you haven’t. Let’s get that tea going.

  (Pause.)

  janet: Ryan? That was his name, yeah.

  (Pause.)

  I just completely and royally fucked up. When we do something right, it’s like we don’t exist, but when we do something wrong, the whole world comes crashing in on us and it’s all our fault.

  nav: Um, any sugar?

  janet: Shit. Tea. Right. No. I’ve only got what’s left. Haven’t had time for the shop this week. Do you like it black?

  nav: Black is fine.

  janet: Thank God.

  (Pause.)

  I just feel like everything’s going wrong.

  (nav is silent.)

  What was I—

  nav: You were royally messing up.

  janet: Yeah! All that… I dunno, um… blood… all that noise in there? With that stupid paper toilet cover on my head! I just couldn’t hear myself think!

  (She goes to get some pink wafers.)

  I mean, if you can’t think, what can you do?

  (He sips during the following.)

  (She sips.) And I could see the disappointment…

  (He takes a pink wafer and dunks it in his tea.)

  …in Matron’s eyes. Like, Why have I wasted my time with this one? I knew she’d be trouble. I knew she’d the ‘problem case’ this year. She’s just like all of them from homes like that. Broken in the head, that girl.

  (nav looks down into his tea.)

  nav: Oh no.

  janet: What?

  nav: I lost my pink wafer. Well, half of it.

  janet: Oh, I’m so sorry.

  (nav throws the remaining half into his mouth and starts trying to fish the lost half out of the tea. He struggles to do this during the following.)

  I was supposed to be better than they thought I was, blood under my nails, bags under my eyes, pounding my rhythm by focusing on the lyrics to ‘Another One Bites the Dust’.

  (nav sips a bit more of the tea, which still has half a wafer in it.)

  nav: I thought you nurses used that idiotic little elephant, Nelly the—

  janet: The Elephant. Yeah. (Sings half-heartedly.)

  (nav rolls his eyes, increasingly annoyed.)

  nav: And, you just had to sing it, didn’t you?

  janet: So, I came up with using ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ instead.

  nav: What, Queen?!

  janet: Shut up!

  nav: No judgement here. You do you.

  janet: But I couldn’t do it. Something inside me stopped working. Cos it goes into that bit, doesn’t it? That… (Badly, slightly embarrassed:) …You can beat him, you can cheat him… you can—

  (nav has found the wafer at the bottom of the tea.)

  nav: —treat him bad.

  (They smirk together. He doesn’t know where to put the wafer.)

  janet: I looked down and there was nothing. I saw the dirt under my nails, and I thought, No one deserves to have me here. I’m—

  nav: Gone…

  (He shows her the mug, which evidently contains a mess of dissolved biscuit.)

  janet: That’s disgusting. You’ve made a mess of that.

  nav: Sorry. I didn’t mean to.

  janet: I know.

  nav: I’m really, really sorry. Janet, I…

  (Pause.)

  janet: How’s that jacket coming on?

  (She goes to where the jacket and scrubs are hanging. She freezes.)

  (In a sing-song voice:) It’s not quite ready!

  (He looks at his jacket. He runs over to it.)

  nav: What have you done to my uniform?!

  janet: I cleaned it!

  nav: You’ve bleached it!

  janet: It’s just toothpaste!

  nav: What am I going to do when I walk in tomorrow?

  janet: Nothing, because nothing is wrong with it.

  nav: Look at it! It’s all white!

  janet: That’s what happens!

  nav: I can’t believe you.

  janet: Nav, it’s just a uniform.

  nav: It’s not just a uniform!

  (Pause.)

  What are they going to say at the station? I’m already the outsider. What’s Serge going to say?

  (He recovers quickly, controlling his temper.)

  janet: All right! (After glancing at him, she says, in the voice of the Serge, exaggerated:) You’re under my roof, son. My rules.

  nav: What?

  janet: You heard me.

  nav: Janet, I’m not—

  (janet grabs his constable’s jacket and swings it over her shoulders. It drowns her, but it looks rather good on her. nav looks at her.)

  What are you doing?

  janet: What does it look like?

  nav: There are many things I could say.

  janet: I’m him! The Serge!

  nav: Well, I wasn’t thinking that.

  janet (impersonating the Serge again): That’s not how to talk to a superior constable, Gupta!

  nav: This isn’t funny.

  (janet walks up to him confrontationally, still in the style of the Serge.)

  janet: Was that a question? I’ll just have to make a terrible joke at your expense in order to feed my enormous… ego! Ha h
a ha.

  nav: This really isn’t as funny as you think it is.

  janet: Really, Constable? I thought better of you. And what’s this? A stain?

  nav: From a nurse, last night.

  (janet raises her eyebrow.)

  Oh, grow up, will ya?

  janet: This is still a stain. A stain. We can’t have that. Not in my unit. I won’t stand for it. And stains are mistakes. Stains are signs of sloppiness, inadequacy and…

  nav: That’s enough! I know what they’ll say. You don’t need to…

  janet: So what are you going to say to them, then?

  nav (smiling venomously): Thank you, sir. For your… observation. I will do better next time.

  (Pause. She shifts.)

  janet: Where are you going?

  nav: Oh, it’s not over. This thing you think is so funny.

  janet: Don’t take that tone with me.

  nav: I see what you’re doing.

  janet: I’ve decided to stop and search you, due to the stain on your blazer. I won’t have it. I’ve not stopped you because of any other reason. I’m a modern man, see. The sus law states I can stop or arrest you if I suspect you of loitering with intent to commit an arrestable offence.

  nav: All right. Enough.

  janet: I don’t care if you’ve had enough. We’ve all had enough! Enough of you. I don’t care if your mum sent you to the corner shop for milk. I don’t care if you’re on your way to Alexandra Park, school or the dentist. I’m going to stop you. Because I want to. Because I can. I’m going to arrest you if you refuse. Y’hear? Only way to teach you lot to never have a stain again.

  nav: OK, I get it!

  (Pause.)

  janet (still in the voice of the Serge, but sounding more genuine): Gupta. What I meant to say was… you’re… doing a fine job. And any constable in this station would be lucky to have you as their partner. You’re… doing us proud, son. Constable, it’s an honour to have you. Now, get back to work before we make the others jealous.

  (nav looks at her.)

  (As herself again:) Don’t look at me like that.

  nav: Like what?

  janet: Like I just told you I had a boyfriend.

  (Pause.)

  You know what they do. They stop boys. In the Moss. I’ve seen how they do it. Walking to school. Then they’re late. Again and again and again. In the Moss. Then their mum gets a call. Then sometimes they stop going to school altogether. Then the sus laws come on them hard. In the Moss. On suspicion of… well, whatever they want. Some boys get arrested for standing with their friends. Playing kerby. No one sees them for a bit. They come back with a bruise, a broken something. Have you seen the graffiti on Claremont Road? ‘Help the police, beat yourself up.’ Classic.