Fallen Petals Read online

  SALLY: Hollow has things that you can’t get in the city. Hills. Fields. Clean air. Community and friendliness—most of us know what’s going on for other people. Service clubs. We like that. We’ve got plenty of the kind of things that the city’s got too. We’ve got a Maccas.

  TANIA: You’ve got to be kidding.

  SALLY: Don’t you like Maccas?

  PHIL: Jay-suss.

  TANIA: Here, the definition of a new library book is one that’s gone out of print in the last five years.

  PHIL: We can’t get the kind of school results we need unless we try twice as hard as the city kids.

  SALLY: Well, if that’s stopping you, maybe that’s telling you something.

  TANIA: Like what?

  SALLY: You should stay here.

  PHIL: Oh, crap. What it’s telling us is this place is Nowhere Central. It’s forgotten. It’s not just forgotten, it’s worth forgetting. It’s failing. It’s drought-ridden.

  SALLY: We’ve always had droughts. Why should a smart kid from here run away to become a lawyer in the city? Or even become a lawyer to come back here to be one? How many lawyers do we need in Hollow?

  TANIA: How many sheep get fucked?

  SALLY: That was a one-off.

  PHIL: Sal, why do you even bother to go to school at all when you don’t want to go to uni?

  SALLY: It’s interesting.

  PHIL: What?

  SALLY: The subjects.

  PHIL: What?

  SALLY: The subjects are interesting.

  PHIL: And?

  SALLY: And what?

  TANIA: Where will that get you?

  SALLY: The subjects are interesting.

  PHIL: So you’ve said, but what does that lead to?

  SALLY: If they’re interesting, they just are.

  TANIA: For fuck’s sake.

  PHIL: Look. It’s simple. How can you do good work, when you’re not motivated? You won’t get anywhere.

  SALLY: Who said anything about getting anywhere?

  PHIL: You just like being stupid.

  SALLY: No, I don’t.

  PHIL: Aha! So you admit to being stupid!

  SALLY laughs.

  SALLY: I confess! You got me!

  TANIA’s mobile rings.

  TANIA: Ah fuck, what does Deano want? [She answers it.] Hello?

  SALLY: [to PHIL] Phil, I think Economics is interesting.

  PHIL: We need the marks to get to Melbourne, Sal. We have to get very intensive in our revision; spot-on definitions, clear graphs, succinct understandings. We can’t just chase the ‘interesting’ bits and pieces around like butterflies.

  SALLY: S’pose not.

  PHIL: You don’t want that kind of intensive revision. It would bore you. You don’t need us.

  SALLY: No.

  PHIL: I’ll miss you.

  TANIA finishes her call.

  TANIA: [to SALLY] Party.

  SALLY: When?

  TANIA: Saturday night. Deano’s. We’re invited.

  PHIL: Really?

  TANIA: Well. Sally and me.

  SALLY: Deano wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.

  TANIA: He’ll be surprised.

  SALLY: You’ll have to drink if you don’t want to get bashed.

  PHIL: Great. Never been bashed up before, but.

  TANIA: So get drunk and sow some seeds instead, you big virgin.

  TANIA exits. Three more petals fall to the ground.

  SALLY: Three. Three more.

  PHIL: Leave the little dead hicks alone.

  SECOND

  At the sakura.

  Two figures sit close together, either back-to-back or side-to-side, leaning against one another. It is night. Drought nights are clear nights, and it is a full moon. In the bluish dim light we see PHIL and TANIA. PHIL switches on a dolphin torch. He shines it on the mound of petals.

  They are very drunk.

  PHIL: Yep. Still there.

  TANIA: You still spinning?

  PHIL: Yep. Why did I come out tonight?

  TANIA: It’s a party.

  PHIL: It’s a crap party. It’s a crap eighteenth.

  TANIA: You could have at least put in for the present.

  PHIL: Why should I? Deano won’t be in Melbourne when I turn eighteen.

  TANIA: S’pose not.

  PHIL: And he listens to Troy Cassar-Daley. These are formative years. I’ll have country music forever imprinted in my soul.

  TANIA: Don’t worry. In Psych, some say that your identity is infinitely flexible until you’re around twenty. Identity links up with memory. So when you’re no longer a ‘country’ boy, you won’t remember the ‘country’ music.

  PHIL: Thank Christ I’ve still got time.

  TANIA: You fuckhead. What were you drinking?

  PHIL: That spumante shit.

  TANIA: Should have done the shots of vodka.

  PHIL: But that doesn’t taste of anything. Does it?

  TANIA: Dunno. Had it with cordial.

  PHIL: Yuck. I don’t want to lose brain cells.

  TANIA: You’ve got plenty left over.

  PHIL: But have I? Troy Cassar-Daley, for crying out loud.

  TANIA: Some country music is all right.

  PHIL: No. Nothing good can come of it. They don’t have it in Melbourne.

  TANIA: They have shops full of country music in Melbourne.

  PHIL: And other stuff. That’s the point. There’s other stuff. There’s choice.

  TANIA: I like Troy Cassar-Daley.

  PHIL: Then why did you leave the party?

  TANIA: There are other things I like.

  PHIL: Like what?

  TANIA: I like the idea of you being on your own out here.

  PHIL: Leave me alone, then. Let me study the effects of flashlight on flora. What’s happened to Sally?

  Silence.

  Tania.

  TANIA: What?

  PHIL: Have… have you completed your tertiary choices form?

  TANIA: What do you reckon?

  PHIL: Did you get it past Mr Syme?

  TANIA: Mais oui.

  PHIL: Did he give you shit?

  TANIA: Of course he did. ‘You might like eating pie-in-the-sky, but down here on Earth you have to earn a living. Look, it’s great to have dreams, I dream of Jeannie, but in reality I have to make sure that your needs are met.’

  PHIL: Really?

  TANIA: Yep.

  PHIL: Imagine if he told that to a kid at Melbourne Grammar. Needs.

  TANIA: Wouldn’t get away with it.

  PHIL: And?

  TANIA: And what?

  PHIL: Did you get it past him?

  TANIA: It’s my choices.

  PHIL: Choices. Yes. Good. [Beat.] You put Melbourne at the top.

  TANIA: Yes.

  PHIL: You didn’t put any TAFE in it.

  TANIA: No.

  PHIL: Just wanted to make sure.

  TANIA: It’s going to happen, Phil.

  PHIL: Yeah.

  TANIA: You, me, Melbourne, a flat.

  PHIL: Eventually I want something by myself.

  TANIA: Really?

  PHIL: I like the idea of a studio apartment. Have you been reading the classifieds?

  TANIA: Not really.

  PHIL: You have to, Tan. There are classifieds, and there are houses and flats for rent. At first, maybe I’ll share with other people, maybe including you. But when I get established I can get a studio apartment. Everything in the one place.

  TANIA: That’s all you’d come home to.

  PHIL: There’d be work, too. There’s places open after six in Melbourne. Places that are open all night. Home would be just a place to sleep.

  TANIA: You can have fun at home.

  PHIL: But there’s a choice.

  Beat.

  TANIA: It’s going to happen, Phil.

  PHIL: Really? You’ll do well.

  TANIA: Everybody is capable of anything. With positive thinking especially. Only three per cent of people wr
ite down their goals; but of those who do, they achieve eighty per cent of them.

  PHIL: Is that true?

  TANIA: Listen to the MindPower CDs, read the booklet. It’s all in there. It’s changed my life.

  Footsteps.

  Shh.

  PHIL: Who’s there?

  SALLY: [from offstage] Me.

  SALLY enters and steps into the mound of petals which PHIL’s torch continues to illuminate.

  Shit.

  PHIL slowly trails the torchlight up from her feet to her face. She is looking down at the ground. She is very drunk.

  TANIA: You stepped on your petals, Sal.

  SALLY: It’s terrible. How could I do such a thing? They’re just children. I’m just pissed. It’s not my fault. They were there. And now I’ve stepped on them. Crunch, splosh, crunch crunch the kiddies—

  TANIA: It’s all right, Sal—

  SALLY: No, it’s not—

  TANIA: Come here and sober up—

  SALLY: I’m ruining them forever—

  She starts to cry.

  TANIA: Phil, take that torch off her face.

  PHIL: No. She’s entertaining me.

  SALLY: [crying] I stepped on them.

  PHIL: She is so pissed.

  TANIA: So are you.

  PHIL: You’re pissed, aren’t you, Sally?

  SALLY: Yes, I’m pissed.

  TANIA: It’s okay, Sal. It’s only blossom.

  SALLY: But I stepped on them.

  TANIA gets up, goes to her, hugs her and tries to shush her.

  I drank too much at the start. I just spent the last thirty minutes wandering out of town to get here. Before that I didn’t know where you’d gone. I didn’t know. And I spent half an hour with my eyes shut pashing the wrong bloke. I turned to get my drink and felt his hand on my face and I thought it was him…

  PHIL: Thought it was something like that.

  SALLY: I stepped in them.

  TANIA: It’s okay, Sal.

  SALLY: My feet stink.

  PHIL: Of what—pot pourri?

  SALLY bursts into tears.

  TANIA: Stop being mean to her.

  PHIL: Well, she’s the one upset about it.

  TANIA: She’s drunk and in heels. She’s got a right.

  SALLY still cries.

  SALLY: I was alone.

  PHIL switches off the torch.

  PHIL: It’s all right. When we’re in Melbourne, it’ll be just like this. Get used to it. You’ll be alone / all the time.

  TANIA: [overlapping] Phil—what’s that? / Can you hear that?

  TANIA grabs the torch off him and turns it on the tree.

  PHIL: [overlapping] But you’ll be able to get pissed, pash plenty of wrong blokes and then stumble like a slut up the highway, it’s only a four-and-a-half-day walk to Melbourne. If you fuck some speeding trucker you might get there in five or six hours, if he’s going the same way. But we’ll be there, Sal. Don’t forget that we’ll be there at the end. Just like tonight.

  TANIA points the torch at the branches above. A petal falls down. She follows the trajectory.

  TANIA: See, Sal. There’s always more.

  SALLY: Who is it now?

  PHIL: What?

  SALLY: Which one of the little bastards died now?

  TANIA: Come on. There’s only been three deaths. It’s just coincidence. That’s what the paper said.

  SALLY: It’s another one. Another one’s dead. Hey, Phil. You should have stayed at the party.

  PHIL: With those losers?

  SALLY: There were some pretty Year Elevens. Talking about which, one of them was going to fuck you.

  TANIA: [laughing] Really?

  SALLY: They wanted to hold a virgin raffle.

  TANIA cackles.

  You should have stayed. Could have got your rocks off. Learnt what it’s really all about. Another one’s dead. Which one of the little fucking kiddies is gone now?

  THIRD

  In this section, the action breaks out all over town, and incorporates the two other actors as various ‘adult’ personages. As indicated.

  In the general practice of DR GEORGE FRANZ. There is a local journo with him, SARAH GODDEN.

  GODDEN: So three more kids have died—

  FRANZ: Yes—

  GODDEN: And it’s from the same thing, but—

  FRANZ: It appears—

  GODDEN: But you’re not ready to call it a disease.

  FRANZ: We don’t know what it is, that’s what I’m telling you.

  GODDEN: But it’s the same thing.

  FRANZ: All the patients died displaying similar symptoms.

  GODDEN: But?

  FRANZ: From differing complications.

  GODDEN: So they died of the same thing or not? What do I put in the paper?

  FRANZ: Okay. Once more. They all displayed similar, almost exact symptoms, but the exact causes of death were different in each case. What happened before each death was this. First, a rash appears.

  GODDEN: So parents should report any rashes to you?

  FRANZ: I don’t want to cause any unnecessary hysteria. But it would be a good idea, if it is accompanied by flu-like aches and pains.

  GODDEN: And anything else?

  FRANZ: You’d think there was some simple virus—don’t quote me that it might be a virus. Don’t even quote me as saying it might be blood-borne.

  GODDEN: It’s neither?

  FRANZ: Of course it could be either. That’s how little we know of the causes. What I do know and have observed is the following—now you can quote me.

  GODDEN: Gee, thanks.

  FRANZ: The organs of the body stop working for the body.

  GODDEN: Wouldn’t that mean an instant death?

  FRANZ: Normally. But it’s about two weeks to four months. So far. In that period, these organs appear to work—if you examine each in isolation. That’s what had me stumped with the first one. You get the test results back for individual organs and you’d think, well, it’s a little bit down, but that wouldn’t cause this. But what seems to happen is that the organs do enough to make themselves function.

  GODDEN: What’s the problem then?

  FRANZ: Well, they’re a part of a system. You can’t have kidneys just purifying blood for the kidneys. They have to do it for the body. And in this, this…

  GODDEN: Child-ridding disease…

  FRANZ: For God’s sake, don’t call it that.

  GODDEN: Only the kids are getting it.

  FRANZ: That sounds awful.

  GODDEN: That’s the headline. So—

  FRANZ: It could be a bacteria, disease, infection—I don’t know yet.

  GODDEN: Tell me when you find out and I’ll change the headline.

  FRANZ: Gee.

  GODDEN: So—after that?

  FRANZ: After what?

  GODDEN: The kidneys. Blood. Purifying. What goes wrong?

  FRANZ: A body can’t sustain itself if the organs are working selectively. And they seem to get more and more selective. Depending on which part of the body you take the blood from, there are different counts of white cells. You don’t normally get that. And in a cancer or an immunosuppressant virus you often get the majority of white cells turning bad, whereas in these cases it sort of… spreads.

  GODDEN: I can’t seem to make a good quote out of that.

  FRANZ: Don’t call it a child-ridding disease.

  GODDEN: Why not?

  FRANZ: I’ve heard around the village that you want to get back into Melbourne. This is not a story to try and make your name with.

  GODDEN: Haven’t made up my mind. ‘Townspeople standing up in times of tragedy.’ Or ‘town in fear of mystery illness’.

  FRANZ: Child-ridding… it’s just… You don’t have to write this. The town doesn’t need it. You lot don’t report the local crime. You don’t have to report the local illness.

  GODDEN: Here’s my card. When the story breaks, the sharks who’ll descend from Melbourne and Sydney to pounce on my turf w
ill be ringing you when you’re trying to sleep. You’ll need someone like me to refer them to. Help you deal with all the attention.

  FRANZ: I’ll try to get you more information if you hold off for a few weeks.

  GODDEN considers it.

  GODDEN: All right. For a while. But it had better not break anywhere else. Or you’ll really owe me. [Pause.] Have any more children come down with the child-ridding disease?

  FRANZ: I told you. I don’t even know if it is a disease.

  GODDEN exits.

  SALLY enters the consulting room.

  SALLY: Reception said I could see you now.

  FRANZ: Hello, Sally. What’s your poison?

  SALLY: Just a prescription for the pill.

  FRANZ: I’ll need to take your blood pressure then.

  SALLY: You did that last time. Last time you said only every six months.

  All I need is a prescription.

  FRANZ: Why don’t you lie down?

  SALLY: I’d rather just get the prescription and go.

  FRANZ: So you’ve got good use out of the first? You should think about having a pap smear soon. [He writes out a script, tears it off, but holds onto it.] By the way. You might want to watch out for some symptoms that are going around town. Any speckled rash on the upper arms. Listlessness. Uncontrollable urge to suck in lots of air. You come see me straight away.

  SALLY: Why do you think I should watch out for those symptoms?

  FRANZ: I’ll take your blood pressure.

  SALLY: Do you think I have their sickness?

  FRANZ: It’s actually a syndrome, because it’s a collection of symptoms, with no as yet identified cause. I’m going to give it a name.

  SALLY: You don’t think I have it, do you?

  FRANZ: The Hollow Syndrome? No, no, but blood pressure and a pap smear might help warn us.

  SALLY: No pap smear.

  FRANZ: Your pressure’s up a little.

  SALLY: What?

  FRANZ: I’ll take it again. Relax and think of it as another exam to pass.

  Relax. Good. Where are you planning to study next year?

  SALLY: Nowhere. In the shop.

  FRANZ: Smart girl like you? Not going to university?

  SALLY: Can’t afford it.

  FRANZ: There’s, what, youth allowance.

  SALLY: Get that if I stay here and I don’t have to pay rent. Besides, there’s HECS.

  FRANZ: That’s for later.

  SALLY: No. It’s not. It’s for now, and it costs more if you can’t afford it.

  FRANZ: Hmm. Not how I understood it.