with her goldfish. Her mother is in the next room. She takes a shopping list from her pocket. Reads.
JOY: Fish food.
Paracetamol.
Daz.
Neutradol.
Tomato soup.
Tomato soup.
She adds ‘stain remover’ to her list.
JOY: Stain remover.
Potatoes.
Milk.
Bread.
Eggs.
…
Crosses out ‘eggs’.
Beer.
Crisps.
Banging on the wall.
JOY: OK Mum, OK.
***
Morning. HOPE has a knitting pattern, a circular needle and a tangle of wool. She’s distraught.
JOY: What are you doing?
HOPE: I don’t know. I’ve never used a circular needle before.
JOY: Well what’s it supposed to be?
HOPE: It’s an egg warmer. Apparently it’s not safe to have him in the bed beside me.
JOY: Who told you that?
HOPE: The experts.
JOY picks up the knitting pattern and rips it up.
HOPE: Now I’ll never know what I’m doing!
JOY: (Shouts.) None of us knows what we’re doing Hope!
Least of all the experts!
A moment.
JOY: Sorry. I’m really sorry. I haven’t slept. I think I’m losing it.
Pause.
HOPE: I can ask the psychologists for a questionnaire if you like.
To see if you’re feeling shite.
JOY: I can tell when I’m feeling shite.
HOPE: They’ll be able to tell how shite you feel … a wee bit shite or a big bit shite. And if you’ve always felt shite. Apparently I’m feeling shiter than before but not clinically shite.
JOY: You’ll feel different when it hatches.
Beat.
JOY: Do you smoke cannabis?
HOPE: No!
JOY: Pity.
Do you have a bath?
HOPE: Shower.
JOY: You’ll need to get a bath put in. It’s the next best thing after cannabis. And probably better for you in the long run.
HOPE: How do you relax?
JOY: Give my mum a sleeping tablet, open a bottle of beer and watch ‘So You Want to Be a Midwife’.
HOPE: ‘So You Want to Be a Midwife’? Is that a thing?
JOY: It’s like ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ meets ‘The Apprentice’ meets ‘DIY NHS’.
‘I liked the way Team A handled the ventouse, but let’s face it, they really fucked up on the stitches.’
HOPE: Ouch.
JOY: It sounds better on the telly.
HOPE: You should go on. You’d be great.
JOY: Pedro’s not keen. He thinks I should have stuck in at school and been a real midwife.
HOPE: It’s never too late.
JOY: I thought about it, but you need Higher English.
HOPE: You should go for it. You show Pedro it’s never too late.
Pause.
HOPE: They want to do tests.
JOY: What for?
HOPE: I don’t know. I don’t think they know.
JOY: They’ll probably all want a bit of him right enough. To prove how clever they are.
The room is suddenly too small for HOPE.
A moment.
JOY: Here … give me that knitting.
Exit JOY.
***
JOY at home. Her goldfish is beside her. Her mother is in the next room. She reads a letter.
JOY: Dear Service User, in line with the government’s independent living reforms, we are reducing your mother’s care package from seven minutes to four minutes a day. This does not apply at weekends or on public holidays when no service is provided.
JOY puts the letter in her pocket.
JOY: (To goldfish.): ¿Qué vamos a hacer?
JOY picks up the knitting.
Banging on the wall from the next room.
***
The egg hatches.
***
The hospital room. The next morning. Enter JOY.
JOY: So … ?
HOPE: So?
JOY: So … what is it?
HOPE: It’s got wings.
Webbed toes.
Slight fusion of the nose and jaw, but not so you’d notice.
JOY: Is it a girl or a boy?
JOY looks in the incubator.
HOPE: Boy.
JOY: Oh my! Look at you! You are GORGEOUS!
(To the baby.) You are gorgeous. Yes you are. Aren’t you gorgeous? Did you tap your way out? Did you? Did you?
HOPE: The tapping thing is a myth. They uncurl.
JOY: (To the baby.) Aw that is cute. Isn’t that cute?
HOPE: It’s actually quite messy.
JOY: Can I hold him?
HOPE: If you like.
JOY lifts the baby.
JOY: (To the baby) You are lovely. Aren’t you?
What’s your name?
What’s your name?
What is your name?
JOY looks to HOPE.
HOPE: I thought maybe Magnus?
JOY: (To the baby.) You look like a Magnus. Yes you do. You look like a Magnus.
HOPE: He looks like an alien.
Pause.
JOY: (To HOPE.) Are you OK?
HOPE: It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, is it?
Pause.
JOY: Here.
JOY gives HOPE the baby to hold.
HOPE holds the baby.
JOY: Look at you.
You will both be grand.
Trust me.
A moment.
The baby starts crying. A miauling cry – like a cat. Or a seagull.
HOPE: He’s hardly stopped crying since he hatched.
JOY: Have you tried a dummy?
HOPE: