The Lady in the Van – Devonport Repertory Theatre Society Inc.

Miss Shepherd

No, there was never love. But the soul in question, frustrated in her vocation through want of seeing by the sisters, has loved thee and striven to serve thee as a nun on her own, as it were, solo, living under a rule, with diet restricted, her cell this van, sustained only by supplementary benefit and the sale of the occasional pencil. If sin there was it was by omission only, as on the day in question the lady-seller was stationary in her. vehicle and scrupulous as thy servant has always been in the employment of hand signals and the correct use of the mirror, nevertheless the young man in question, through having had too much to drink, on an empty stomach, possibly, contrives to collide with the van. As was claimed, fatally. The lady-seller was blameless, though she did make her confession later- in France, it was, and even if the priest was well stricken in years and deaf, he did understand English, possibly. And even if he didn’t, being a consecrated priest the words of his mouth alone would suffice to absolve me, the lady-seller, of this offence of which in any case she is innocent not only by the laws of God but also by the Highway Code. So, 0 Blessed Mother, untaint me of all sin so that I may stand before thee undefiled- Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy ……

Alan Bennett

The smell is sweet, with urine only a minor component, the prevalent odour suggesting the inside of someone’s ear. Dank clothes are there too, wet wool and onions, which she eats raw, plus what for me has always been the essence of poverty, damp newspaper. Miss Shepherd’s multi-flavoured aroma is masked by a liberal application of various talcum powders, with Yardley’s Lavender always a favourite, and when she is sitting down it is this genteel fragrance that dominates, the second subject, as it were, in her odoriferous concerto. It is only when she rises that the original theme returns, the terrible primary odour now triumphantly restated and left to hang in the room long after she has departed.

Alan Bennett 2

starting out as someone incidental to my life, she remained on the edge of it so long she became not incidental to it at all. As home bound sons and daughter looking after their parents think of it as just marking time before their lives start, so like them I learned there is no such thing as marking time. And that time marks you. In accommodating her and accommodating to her, I find twenty years of my life has gone, This broken-down old woman, her delusions and the slow abridgement of her life with all its. vehicular permutations – -these have been given me to.

Underwood

Lady. (He taps lightly on the side of the van) Lady. Are you there, lady? I like the new vehicle. A real spanker. Not a mark on it. Particularly as regards the bodywork. That’s clever, Margaret. That’s very clever. (He gives the van a great bang) Not a fucking scratch. Are you saying your prayers still? How’s the piano?

Mam

Mam: Alan. Can I ask you a question?

Alan Bennett: The answer is, I’ve no idea.

Mam: You don’t know the question yet.

Alan Bennett: I do know the. question. The question is, where does she go to the lav?

Alan Bennett2: Lavatories always loom large with my mother. What memory was to Proust the lavatory is to my mam.

Mam: Well, where?

Alan Bennett: The answer is, I don’t. know.

Mam: You don’t know, with that smell? Well, I know, and l haven’t been to Oxford. Her knickers. She does it in her britches.

Rufus & Pauline

Rufus: You are a saint.

Pauline: An angel.

Rufus: Who else would do it? Pauline Well, we might.

Alan Bennett: It’s not permanent. Rufus No, no; no.

Alan Bennett: It’s only until she decides where she’s going to go. Three months at the outside.

Rufus: Quite. The open road. The distant highway. I can’t see her staying long.

Pauline: And it’s not as if your garden is much of a feature.

Alan Bennett: It’s a wild garden.

Pauline: Of course it is. Darling. (She kisses him) She’ll be so grateful.

Rufus: I’m right in thinking that large many-contoured stain on the back of her frock denotes incontinence?

Alan Bennett: Well, don’t think it’s a fashion statement.

Pauline: Oh, darling. What you must be hoping is that one of these days she’ll just slip away.

Rufus: Don’t you believe it. That’s what happens in plays. In life going downhill is an uphill job.

Pauline: How’s your mother?

Alan Bennett: Same. Sits. Smiles. Sleeps.

Pauline: Are you all right?

Alan Bennett: Me? Yes, why?

Pauline: Not upset about your play?

Alan Bennett: No.

Pauline: I saw a good review the other day.

Alan Bennett: I was told they were all good.

Pauline: Oh, they are, I’m sure.

Rufus: We enjoyed it. I’m amazed how you remember it all. Pauline The one I saw was particularly perceptive about you.

Alan Bennett: Really? Saying what?

Pauline: That you couldn’t make your mind up.

Alan Bennett: What about?

Pauline: Anything really. It meant in a good way.

Leo Fairchild

Leo Fairchild: Mr Bennett?

Alan Bennett: Yes?

Leo Fairchild: You’ve written to me about a Mary Teresa Shepherd, a seventy-nine-year-old woman who has died. I have to tell you I know no such person.

Alan Bennett: She names you as her next of kin. She has left some£; 7,000.

Leo Fairchild: It’s obviously my sister. Though Shepherd was not her name. She was born Margaret Fairchild. I am Leo Fairchild, her brother. Her brother who had her put away. In Banstead, which was, of course, an asylum. £7,000!

Alan Bennett: Why did you have her put away?

Leo Fairchild: God. God, sin, hell. The whole bag of tricks. Morning, noon and night. My poor mother took refuge in the attic. I don’t regret it. Though in any case first chance she got she was over the wall and out. And, the important point, stayed free for a year and a day, which meant they couldn’t put her back. Odd length of time. A year and a day. Like a fairy story. Well, let me set your mind at rest. I don’t want the money. Give it away. Or keep it, why not?

Social Worker

Social Worker: No. They can pursue a career or whatever. Homemaking is not the only option. Because her chosen lifestyle is less conventional than yours … we must try not to be too judgmental. You see, a carer will often feel that he or she has the right to dictate —

Alan Bennett: Excuse me. May I stop you? Do not call me the carer. I am not the carer. I hate caring. I hate the thought. I hate the word. I do not care and I do not care for. I am here; she is there. There is no caring.

Social Worker: It’s interesting that she irritates you and yet she stays. When you are saying she should be in hospital, is it really a way of saying something you can’t admit: namely that you want to be rid of her? Unmarried daughters, single sons … they often have this problem —

Alan Bennett: She is not my mother.

Social Worker: and it isn’t one a doctor can always solve.

Alan Bennett: I don’t particularly want to be rid of her.

Social Worker: Why? It would be entirely natural if you did.

Alan Bennett: You’re saying that the problem is I want her to go, and when I say I don’t want her to go you say that’s a problem too. Is this what’s called counselling?

Social Worker: Alan, I’m sensing that hostility again.

The Lady in the Van
Audition Information

Show Information

Proposed Rehearsal Schedule

The Story

The Characters