In the Moss Page 5

  janet: Well, stop it.

  nav: I can’t! He won’t stop screaming!

  janet: That’s you, not him!

  nav: Can you hear him, Janet?!

  (Short pause.)

  janet: Yeah, but I made him stop.

  nav: It was my fault.

  (She looks at his wounds. She winces. It’s bad.)

  janet: Well, it doesn’t matter any more.

  nav: You didn’t do it. (Pause.) I’m scared.

  janet: Me too.

  nav: I don’t want to die.

  janet: Think of your Serge, eh?

  nav: I don’t do this for his fucking approval.

  janet: Then me. Think of me. Or Uganda. Or jamuns or something.

  nav: I don’t want to die.

  janet: You’ll be all right.

  nav: Is that what you told Ryan?

  janet: Yes…

  nav: I’m going to die. Kill me – that’s what you want!

  (He screams again in pain.)

  janet: NO! Now, let me see…

  nav: Ryan borrowed my ELO record, you know that? (Laughing again in pain.) His mum hated anything on Top of the Pops.

  janet: Was Ryan your family?

  (Pause.)

  Nav!

  nav: He… he… I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop it… He wouldn’t stop. None of them stopped. And it it it it it it it it it happened when I thought it could, and I didn’t know where who or what was being thrown, and all I could see through was someone else’s shield. Someone else’s eyes and the Serge and the snarls.

  (Lions can be heard roaring from both sides.)

  It wasn’t like battlefields used to be. It was just our road. Our corner. I was there last week. My one day off. And tonight. The jungle. The fire. The burning. The glass ricocheted off our heads. I just wanted to be the best. The best for the Serge. For my dad…

  janet: I help people.

  nav: I save people.

  janet: That’s right, you save people.

  nav: No, you save people.

  janet: I need you to calm down.

  nav: Don’t tell me to calm down! I’ve a knife in my back!

  janet: It’s not a knife, it’s my front door!

  nav: It’s still in there. I can feel it.

  (janet presses his legs.)

  janet: Can you feel that?

  nav: Feel what? I can only feel it in me.

  janet: OK. I need you to be honest in your replies to what I’m going to ask you.

  nav: We’re with shields. In formation. It’s getting worse. It’s getting like how Pap described Uganda in ’72. They break through. We’ve got to act fast. Contain them. Contain the street. Control the situation. A whistle of a petrol bomb. In the Moss!

  (janet presses higher up his legs.)

  janet: Can you feel that?

  nav: Yes! (Pause.) I trip. I’ve fallen hard on the corner of the curb. And it all happened so quick, and this kid, this boy, is screaming, and we lock eyes. We lock eyes and we know. And there’s a glistening of something in his left hand. A small glitter of the wrist.

  (janet presses his left arm.)

  janet: Does that hurt?

  nav: No!

  (He cries out.)

  janet: Nav…

  nav: I block with my right arm; I throw the knife on the floor.

  (janet continues to check him.)

  He spits in my face and something inside me… My fist came out and through the smoky air. Hard. And… it felt… it felt… But he’s still standing, and I hit him again and again, but he gets me. I fall hard, and my hand nudges the blade on the floor. It’s coming towards me. It’s running at me. I can’t… I… but I snatch it in my hand and hold it up.

  janet: What happened? Nav! What happened?

  nav: I push it hard into something soft. And then it gets sticky.

  (janet runs her hand up his back.)

  janet: Tell me when it starts hurting.

  (She continues to check him over while he speaks. It clearly hurts. She begins to suspect it might be a fatal wound.)

  nav: He falls. It’s the knife. It’s his knife. It’s my bruises on him. And I look down and it’s Ryan. It’s Ryan. From Dad’s shop on Sundays. Does cookery school. Always came in for crispy pancakes. And… I… no one notices. I see nothing. Except Ryan. Except Ryan from our street. Our Ryan in the Moss.

  (He cries out in pain.)

  Now!

  janet: There?

  nav: Yes! There!

  Then horses came! They came like they always do. I didn’t know if he’d survived or not until… you.

  (Something in janet clicks.)

  janet: Look at me.

  Look at me.

  I’m not losing you too.

  (Pause.)

  nav: What’s going to happen now? Janet?

  janet: Yes?

  nav: Janet?

  janet: I’m still here.

  nav: I didn’t mean to. Oh God.

  (He breaks down.)

  They’ll have my badge for this. If this gets out.

  (She takes his hand.)

  janet: He didn’t know who you were.

  (Pause.)

  Nav?

  Nav?

  Come on, now. I need you to focus.

  nav: I’m going to die, aren’t I?

  janet: I’m not going to let that happen.

  nav: You should.

  janet: Stop it.

  nav: I deserve it.

  janet: We… all make mistakes.

  (He yelps again. Pause. janet sees the ornamental lion on the floor, which was knocked there by the brick. She roars weakly as she rushes past it.)

  nav: You are so… bloody… annoying.

  (He tries to get up.)

  janet: Stop it.

  nav (trying to laugh it off): I am, really.

  janet: You’re not. Now, stay still!

  (He tries again.)

  That’s an order! I need to look at it. I’m going to turn you. It might hurt.

  (She twists him slightly. nav cries out.)

  nav: Stop! Stop!

  janet: Done now.

  nav: Where is it?

  janet: There’s some shrapnel in your right shoulder.

  nav: I can feel it.

  janet: I think it’s your scapula.

  nav: It feels huge.

  janet: It’s good. It means it’s not an artery. And it’s not your left side. You’re lucky.

  nav: I’m lucky?!

  janet: Shut up! I’m going to take it out.

  nav: You’re what?!

  janet: I think I can do this.

  nav: You think?!

  janet: It needs to come out.

  nav: But—

  janet: It’s better that I do.

  nav: No! Don’t! I remember first aid and blades – you’re not supposed to pull them out! I’ll bleed out!

  janet: That’s blades. This isn’t.

  nav: Don’t!

  janet: You’re not him!

  nav: Janet!

  janet: Stay there.

  (She goes to the bathroom.)

  nav: Where are you going?!

  (She returns with a panty liner. She rips open the packaging as she runs back.)

  janet: Nav?

  nav: I’m still here.

  janet: Nav, what colour’s my hair?

  nav: Huh?

  janet: What colour is my hair?!

  nav: Um, pink?

  janet: Wrong.

  nav: Hot pink.

  janet: Right. What do you eat at Diwali? Gulab something, right?

  nav: Gulab jamuns!

  janet: They sounded yummy. What was in them?

  nav: Rose water, pistachios—

  janet: Is anyone waiting for you at home? They’ll miss you.

  nav: Hang on, you’re doing the questions on me!

  (janet moves behind him. She puts her hands on his chest.)

  janet: …you can beat him, you can cheat him… you can—


  nav: —treat him bad!

  (She pulls it out fast, efficiently and throws it across the room. nav cries out.)

  What colour is it?

  (She stretches the panty liner and holds it on the wound.)

  janet: Light red. Not dark and pulpy.

  nav: Put it back in!

  janet: I can’t!

  nav: Try!

  janet: You know I can’t do that.

  nav: It feels hot… And sticky. I know what this is.

  janet: You’re not Ryan.

  nav: Hard.

  Sweaty.

  Sticky.

  Hot.

  both: I know what this is.

  janet: Both hands on. As I was trained.

  nav: As I was trained.

  janet: Remember.

  nav: Remember what you’re here for.

  janet: Remember, remember… Please, just please to God, please don’t let this be my first.

  nav: I’m yours tonight, eh, Nurse?

  janet: Shut up. You’re going to walk away from this.

  nav: Do you think they’re going to let me stay on the force after this? Do you really think they’ll still want the Paki on the job after this?

  (The radio breaks through. It crackles.)

  radio voiceover: Gupta. Constable Gupta. Come in, Gupta. Are you still flaming alive there? The station’s still happening here!

  (nav looks up at the radio. He flinches away from it.)

  Constable?!

  (janet thinks.)

  janet: Keep putting pressure on it!

  (She thrusts his left arm on to the pad and holds it down. She runs to the radio. She flicks it on. The ECG machine thumps fade in, slow and hard.)

  Um, hello! Hello? Gupta here… I mean Janet. Yes, that nurse. He’s here with me. Sorry, I’ve never done this before.

  (She gestures to nav. Slight pause.)

  Urgent backup required at 56 Tabbard Road. And hurry!

  (Radio cuts out. Silence. janet turns back to nav.)

  Nav?

  nav: Yeah?

  janet: When they come for you, and they’ll come, I don’t think we should talk about what happened tonight.

  (nav looks to her.)

  I mean it.

  (Sirens begin distantly. They lean against the wall together. He turns his face from her, looking forward again.)

  Nav?!

  (Pause.)

  NAV?!

  nav (weakly): I’m still here, Hot Pink.

  janet: I could still kill you!

  nav (weaker): At least wait until we’ve had that drink. Wish I’d had one now.

  janet: I’m on duty tomorrow. I forgot.

  nav: I’ll wait.

  janet: We’ll see.

  nav: Keep calm and carry on.

  janet: And all that.

  nav: Isn’t it? Keep that lip up.

  janet: If you’ve still got it, eh?

  (She laughs weakly. nav doesn’t answer again.)

  nav: I don’t want to die.

  janet: You’re not going to.

  (Silence. Sirens and roars grow in a crescendo while janet and nav wait for the police to arrive. The ECG machine continues to thump. They take each other’s hands. The thump of the ECG fades.)

  He can’t be my first.

  (She leans against his shoulder. Still. Blackout.)

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Charlotte Everest, Francis Grin and Jennie Eggleton at Mrs C’s Collective for your dramaturgical support and trust. I’d also like to personally thank Georgi McKie for her directorial, personal and creative support in Manchester.

  Thank you to my Mum, who was a student nurse during the Moss Side riots, to whom I owe inspiration and thanks for her accounts of the events. She’d like to add that this play is not based on her life story.

  These acknowledgements can’t be considered complete without a nod to Harlem Spirit, whose single ‘Dem a Sus (In the Moss)’ – a reference to sus law, the stop-and-search laws in effect at the time, widely condemned for allowing for racial profiling – was a huge inspiration, and their words, ‘Don’t let them pressure us’, echo through time.

  also by emma zadow

  Alice hasn’t been home for a while – for seven years, in fact. But when her little sister Lo tries to take her own life, she has to return to the life she left behind. The change of scenery from London to Norfolk proves quite the culture shock, however, and Alice has to confront what she left behind all those years ago.

  The sisters’ relationship hasn’t evolved in Alice’s absence, and when she steps through the door she’s plunged back into the same world she escaped from. Set against Norfolk’s bleak landscapes, but masquerading as childhood nostalgia, Fridge is an all-too-familiar exploration of the broken promises of youth, and a bitter exposition of a generation left behind.

  ISBN: 9781913724238 • 96pp • £10