Apologia (NHB Modern Plays)

CLAIRE. Did I ever tell you about my father?

CLAIRE. It’s about you, Kristin.

what had happened before we arrived. I came up with quite a few upsetting scenarios. I had a vivid imagination.

CLAIRE. I watched him slowly drown in a mountain of unpaid bills. When I was thirteen he was declared bankrupt. I used to come home every day after school and the bathroom door was always closed and the sound was always the same – the sound of my mother’s stifled sobs. Then she’d come out with a smile on her face and cook dinner. One day, he left and never came back. My mother and I moved to a small rented flat and lived on benefits. The first day I moved my bed and there was a whole lot of blood on the wall. I spent all my time in that flat wondering

CLAIRE. ‘Why does she demonise me like that?’ I kept asking myself. ‘Why does she vilify me? Why does she scrutinise everything I do and then condemn it without a second thought?’

CLAIRE. And then I decided it’s got nothing to do with me really. It’s not about me.

’s my individual story. But something tells me that somewhere along the line you’ve stopped listening to people’s individual stories. I wonder when that happened.

held onto the things you’ve believed in. But your idealism has turned into hardness, Kristin. It has a thick, thick shell. You do. A carapace. Isn’t that the word?

Since then most of my life I’ve been running away from unpaid bills, stifled sobs and those dark-red stains. That may have affected some of my artistic choices.

It’s funny. When you said last night that you thought I was good in A Doll’s House, my heart missed a beat. I nearly leapt for joy. How do you do that?