31 Plays in 31 Days, #13 - "Waiting"
Aug. 13th, 2018 09:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11I've been posting a lot of scenes from part V: Mrs. Frost, mostly to prove to myself and others that I'm working on it. But I'm feeling like the majority of that piece is one huge spoiler— shockingly, even more so than part IV, which practically had a twist ending —if only because of a structural oddity it's developing where the climax is protracted and builds up over the course of many scenes. I kind of don't want to post many scenes for fear of spoiling that.
I find myself writing a lot of scenes from Mrs. Hawking's past, specifically during the course of her marriage to the Colonel. There's just so much deliciously twisted drama to be wrung from their situation, a miasma of resentment, unrequited love, and silence. I've been toying with the idea of collecting the scenes I write about it and recording them as a formal, polished audio drama about their marriage, just because I think I've gotten a lot of really good stuff out of it. It's a bit out of the tone of the normal plays, but it would be cool to be able to do something with these scenes that I'm actually pretty pleased with. Today's piece might be one of the ones I would include in such a thing. I'll have to think on this more.
Day #13 - "Waiting"
From Mrs. Hawking
By Phoebe Roberts
MAJOR REGINALD HAWKING, decorated soldier and expectant father, mid thirties
AMBROSE HAWKING, his older brother, late thirties
London, England, December 1864
~~~
(REGINALD sits alone, smoking a cigarette, with an ashtray full of them beside him. Enter AMBROSE, who coughs when he enters the room.)
AMBROSE: My God, Reginald— so much smoke.
REGINALD: Sorry. It's been hours.
AMBROSE: I thought it might have come by now. Of course it is her first, and she is a tiny thing.
(He sits beside REGINALD.)
AMBROSE: How's it gone?
REGINALD: Who knows? They've told me nothing.
AMBROSE: Nothing?
REGINALD: They all keep saying not to worry. But I don't think it's good.
AMBROSE: How do you know?
REGINALD: The look on the midwife, for one. And when one of the girls went into change the sheets. When she came out, they were soaked with blood.
AMBROSE: From what I hear, that's not strange.
REGINALD: What would you know of it?
AMBROSE: They say the process can be quite gory.
REGINALD: Yes, but so much of it? I've seen men bleed out, Bo. I know what it takes.
AMBROSE: Surely you've had someone from Harley Street come.
REGINALD: Come and gone. Useless blighter. Disappeared for all of five minutes before tearing out again.
AMBROSE: Well, what's he got to say?
REGINALD: Patted my shoulder, told me to let nature take its course. Sounds as if she tossed him out of there.
AMBROSE: She did?
REGINALD: Useless bloody coward. I might have tossed him out myself.
AMBROSE: I take it she's not been feeling well.
REGINALD: Oh, she’s been miserable. It didn’t suit her. Gravity, I mean. She was ill the whole way through.
AMBROSE: It might keep some meat on her at last.
REGINALD: Excuse me?
AMBROSE: Oh, that’s right, you like that she’s a rail.
REGINALD: Is this really the time?
AMBROSE: You are quite worried, aren’t you?
REGINALD: It just— it's been so long. And those damned sheets.
(He reaches for the cigarette.)
AMBROSE: Put that out, Reg, that's quite enough.
(REGINALD sighs and stubs it out.)
AMBROSE: No man ever made a difference in this by fretting. Sit through it once or twice and you'll see. Take it from me.
REGINALD: What was it like with your boys?
AMBROSE: I was away when Justin was born. But they tell me he took two full days.
REGINALD: And how was Margaret?
AMBROSE: Well enough, I think. Her sister was there.
REGINALD: And was there blood?
AMBROSE: I don't know. But it sounds as if that's usually the case. And the next time with Nathaniel, it was just a matter of hours, between the stirring and the birth.
REGINALD: I remember that. He caught us unawares.
AMBROSE: Strong little fellow, right from the start.
REGINALD: Strong lungs, for certain. I could hear him all the way down the hall.
AMBROSE: Until you got your hands on him. Nobody could quiet him but you.
(Pause.)
AMBROSE: You're good with him, Reg.
REGINALD: You know I love him.
AMBROSE: And he you. You've got the touch. You'll be good at this, too, I think. Imagine—little Alice or Gabriel dandled on your knee. You've settled on those, haven't you?
REGINALD: Yes. I thought she hated them at first, but she never gainsaid them.
AMBROSE: Soon you'll get to meet the little rascal in person.
REGINALD: I can't think of that now. Not until it's over.
AMBROSE: You've got to, old boy. It'll hold you together.
I find myself writing a lot of scenes from Mrs. Hawking's past, specifically during the course of her marriage to the Colonel. There's just so much deliciously twisted drama to be wrung from their situation, a miasma of resentment, unrequited love, and silence. I've been toying with the idea of collecting the scenes I write about it and recording them as a formal, polished audio drama about their marriage, just because I think I've gotten a lot of really good stuff out of it. It's a bit out of the tone of the normal plays, but it would be cool to be able to do something with these scenes that I'm actually pretty pleased with. Today's piece might be one of the ones I would include in such a thing. I'll have to think on this more.
Day #13 - "Waiting"
From Mrs. Hawking
By Phoebe Roberts
MAJOR REGINALD HAWKING, decorated soldier and expectant father, mid thirties
AMBROSE HAWKING, his older brother, late thirties
London, England, December 1864
~~~
(REGINALD sits alone, smoking a cigarette, with an ashtray full of them beside him. Enter AMBROSE, who coughs when he enters the room.)
AMBROSE: My God, Reginald— so much smoke.
REGINALD: Sorry. It's been hours.
AMBROSE: I thought it might have come by now. Of course it is her first, and she is a tiny thing.
(He sits beside REGINALD.)
AMBROSE: How's it gone?
REGINALD: Who knows? They've told me nothing.
AMBROSE: Nothing?
REGINALD: They all keep saying not to worry. But I don't think it's good.
AMBROSE: How do you know?
REGINALD: The look on the midwife, for one. And when one of the girls went into change the sheets. When she came out, they were soaked with blood.
AMBROSE: From what I hear, that's not strange.
REGINALD: What would you know of it?
AMBROSE: They say the process can be quite gory.
REGINALD: Yes, but so much of it? I've seen men bleed out, Bo. I know what it takes.
AMBROSE: Surely you've had someone from Harley Street come.
REGINALD: Come and gone. Useless blighter. Disappeared for all of five minutes before tearing out again.
AMBROSE: Well, what's he got to say?
REGINALD: Patted my shoulder, told me to let nature take its course. Sounds as if she tossed him out of there.
AMBROSE: She did?
REGINALD: Useless bloody coward. I might have tossed him out myself.
AMBROSE: I take it she's not been feeling well.
REGINALD: Oh, she’s been miserable. It didn’t suit her. Gravity, I mean. She was ill the whole way through.
AMBROSE: It might keep some meat on her at last.
REGINALD: Excuse me?
AMBROSE: Oh, that’s right, you like that she’s a rail.
REGINALD: Is this really the time?
AMBROSE: You are quite worried, aren’t you?
REGINALD: It just— it's been so long. And those damned sheets.
(He reaches for the cigarette.)
AMBROSE: Put that out, Reg, that's quite enough.
(REGINALD sighs and stubs it out.)
AMBROSE: No man ever made a difference in this by fretting. Sit through it once or twice and you'll see. Take it from me.
REGINALD: What was it like with your boys?
AMBROSE: I was away when Justin was born. But they tell me he took two full days.
REGINALD: And how was Margaret?
AMBROSE: Well enough, I think. Her sister was there.
REGINALD: And was there blood?
AMBROSE: I don't know. But it sounds as if that's usually the case. And the next time with Nathaniel, it was just a matter of hours, between the stirring and the birth.
REGINALD: I remember that. He caught us unawares.
AMBROSE: Strong little fellow, right from the start.
REGINALD: Strong lungs, for certain. I could hear him all the way down the hall.
AMBROSE: Until you got your hands on him. Nobody could quiet him but you.
(Pause.)
AMBROSE: You're good with him, Reg.
REGINALD: You know I love him.
AMBROSE: And he you. You've got the touch. You'll be good at this, too, I think. Imagine—little Alice or Gabriel dandled on your knee. You've settled on those, haven't you?
REGINALD: Yes. I thought she hated them at first, but she never gainsaid them.
AMBROSE: Soon you'll get to meet the little rascal in person.
REGINALD: I can't think of that now. Not until it's over.
AMBROSE: You've got to, old boy. It'll hold you together.
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