Baking Day. Eternal love of a mother . Read online

(H8) “Is it time you got back to your steeds?”

  Thick fingers pointing towards the doorway, as rain pelted against its coloured glass panes.

  (LM) “Well we have not lost our good nature and morning sweetness, tubby.”

  His reply angered the stout man but he was not going to wake the whole house with his reply.

  (LM) “Well, ladies shall I leave you in peace?”

  His pathetic attempt at a cold and hungry begging face made the women laugh.

  YES!!! Was the united reply, as the man opened the door, he timed his exit perfectly as the first batch of sultana biscuits had emerged steaming hot from the oven. Scurrying back inside, his lightning fast fingers grabbed two scalding hot treats.

  (LM) Crying out, as he juggled the molten treats from hand to hand. “ouchhhhhhhhhh, tata—

  OUT!!!! The group yelled.

  (PA) “Ssssssssssssssssshh the children are sleeping.”

  Whilst the group were trying to rid the warm kitchen of the large bickie munching pest, they failed to notice another older woman(PA) European and striking in appearance who slowly started to dress in a traditional cooking smock and head piece.

  (H8) “At last a woman thats not afraid to put a jigger of rum in my favourite biscuits.”

  (PA) “Brandy! Today brandy and honey snaps to a traditional recipe.”

  (H8) “BRANDY!!!!swill of the poor, Rum and honey thats the stuff, Do you hear me?|”

  (PA)Yes! perfectly now, and No! Brandy it is! If you dont like, dont eat, or make your own.”

  Her laughing voice knew he was in no place to argue

  (H8) “Maybe, the youngest chef will make my favourites? Where is she?”

  His eyes searched the darkened room.

  (QMS) “Your impatience will not get these wee biscuits ready and eaten, now will it?”

  From a room at the rear of the kitchen, a distinctive Scottish voice cold and graveled, cuts through the man like an old blade on a tree saw.

  (QMS) “Stop bullying women to get your way. That young lassie will soon work you out, that your love is for little else, and only living to extend that massive girth.”

  She enters the kitchen, a severe woman, short, pale with skin like sour milk and moldy bread, teeth browned and hair like an ancient straw broom, with a gaze that could rust metal.

  (QMS) “I will make your damn rum and honeyed biscuits, and you can rub my ulcerated toes.”

  As she waved her feet under the nose of the fat man, the elderly woman (QV) raised up from her chair and started to extract her dough from her steel bowl.

  Dipping her cooling treats in the warmed white chocolate, placing them on the silver cooling platter in the centre of the table.

  (QV) Placed small mounds of almond buttons covering the trays. Soon she pushed the last of her trays into the glowing oven.

  She turned to see the fat man, slobily licking her bowl and timber spoon of its residue of almond batter

  (QV) “There€is some on the floor over there too, beast!”

  Between the almond batter and a mouthful of chocolate coated treats, he was in male bliss. He pulled a small flask of rum from his robe and added a good swig to the warmed milk in the large ceramic glass in his fat left hand, guzzling and laughing talking with food and milk running down his chin, he was a sight.

  (PA) Was intently laying thin oval sheets of brandy snaps around a thin tube to give them an exquisite hollow shape.

  (H8) “What type of sausage grind and gruel will you ram in there?” he cheekily asked.

  (PA) “Fool! I vill fill theeze wit a blend of whipped cream and dark chocolate sprinkles once the shells have cooled.”

  (H8) “Anyone that touches that bowl and spoon will find me a very bad humoured bowl cleaner.”

  Slurping his drink he refused to remove his gaze from the white porcelain bowl that the woman was now busily whipping the cream for the centers and laying out the dark chocolate strips to be grated.

  (QMS) “Hand me that flask of rum and I will put it in some of these shortbreads, no wonder yee foots a glow wit the gluttonies ways of yee.”

  Hitting his swollen foot with a damp linen towel from her hip, caused a howl of pain from H8.

  A voice came from behindH8. It was LD.

  (LD) “Are they mistreating you again, poor man?”

  LD giggled, as she snuggled up against H8 giant girth, taking a clean towel and mopping the excess food and drink from his chin and beard.

  (H8) “Finally you âre here to save me from these dull old women and their boring slabs of chocolate covered cow pats.”

  He sneered towards the elderly women. knowing his protectoress had at last arrived.

  Only when he felt the harsh snap of the wet linen towel again on his erupted foot, did he quieten down.

  Before them stood the new biscuit chef, young, fair, pretty and sweet already dressed in starched white linen with matching hat to protect the food from her thick hair.

  (LD) “Sorry I âm late,I was checking on the children. They are sleeping soundly. So hard to keep up with them.”

  (H8) “Dont apologise, just tell me what sweet treats today will bring”

  (L8) “Well as one child likes chocolate and the other macadamia nuts, I will make a triple chocolate and nut cookie, their favourites. I have not made those for them for such a long time.”

  Now the kitchen was a scene of contentment as each woman worked together and soon the silver platter on the table was full of a cooling variety of delicious treats. The smell was heavenly.

  In front of H8 was an ever growing mound of bowls, dishes and utensils to be licked clean. He dipped his hot rummed treats into the batters, savouring every drop. His girth seemed to have doubled during the morning. His foot now glowed hotter than the fires that surrounded him.

  A steady stream of people came through the kitchen during that dark morning. They were all drawn by the sweet smells, the warmth of the room and its people. H8 growled protectively over his culinary treasures, but eventually most of the mornings works were happily devoured by the visitors.

  Now the final act of the morning was to occur, the filling of the biscuit tins.

  On the table in front of each woman a different set of metal, decorative tins lay opened, with their shapes and sizes differing greatly.

  From the smooth silver domed tin of QM to the elegant book shaped tin of PA.

  In front of LD sat two tins. One of a London double decker bus, red and shiny with large black wheels that worked. The other a plane, a fighter jet with a glowing red tail light.

  She giggled and laughed as she first placed small satin pillows into the bottom of each tin to absorb any moisture and to protect from breakages.

  Having filled her tins to the brim she placed them beside the other women's tins on the shelf.

  The damp night gave way to a damp morning, the sun's rays bravely fighting a loosing battle.

  H8 ) “Ladies would you do me the honour of strolling on this fine dawn morning with me down to the lake?”

  (LD) “To skip some stones?”

  (H8) “Yes we can use QVs biscuits, if you are strong enough to lift one.?”

  A sharp twang of wet linen on swollen skin followed by a distinctive yelp is heard as they wander out of the stable doors into the rain.

  Final Scene

  8.00a.m. A well dressed waiter knocks on an elaborate double door and enters the room. In his hand are two breakfast trays. He arranges the trays on the side of the beds as two boys lay sleeping.

  The waiter calls out to the boys.

  (Waiter) “Master William. Master Harry, breakfast!”

  A small voice sleepily asks is it baking day?

  (Waiter) “Yes, Master”.

  With that both boys sit bolt upright and sleepily each grabs their respective tins from the tray.

  Struggling they pull off the metal lids and reach inside, they pull out packet after packet of prepackaged commercial biscuits tipping the tins upside d
own to ensure that none remain.

  Their young fingers delving inside and release the small satin pillows.

  Slowly they lift the pillows to their faces, deeply inhaling the secret aromas from within, enthusiastically they speak.

  (William) “Mines double chocolate!”

  (Harry) “Mines Macadamia!”

  Each boy cuddling their small satin packages, lay back on their beds, inhaling its sweet aromas and the memory of a mothers love.

  The waiter knocks on another ornate door with a large crest on its panels, then enters.

  (Waiter) “Baking day your Majesty

  As he places the trays on a small stool and retires from the room the lights dim.

  End

  Writers note:

  Characters and cast:

  The true identities of the characters in the play are only revealed at its conclusion.

  The actors are to relax the parts and not make references to a title or install a overtly grand manner.

  Therefore, we see some MOTHERS making treats for their loved ones, no more no less.

  With the main characters being subjective as too the audience interpretations.

  The true identities must remain secretive and not displayed prior to the end or on any promotional material.

  The script may be extended at the directors requests, as many new characters may be introduced.

  There is no direct addressing by name of any main players to each other. Only the character of the waiter identifies other players ( William and Harry) at the end.

  LEGEND OF CHARACTERS AS PER THIS SCRIPT

  LM----LORD MOUNTBATTEN

  H8----HENRY V111

  QV----QUEEN VICTORIA

  QM----QUEEN MOTHER

  QA----PRINCE PHILLIPS MOTHER Princess Andrew

  QMS----MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS

  LD----LADY DIANA

  PRINCE HARRY

  PRINCE WILLIAM

  WAITER

  Baking Day

  A play for ten plus actors comprising of

  five male actors and five female actresses with a support cast of four or more of either gender.

  The running time is estimated at

  18mins-25mins dependent on cast and settings.

  The story is based around the love a mother has for her children and the manner and lenghts she will go to let them know she will always love and care for them.

  Written by Robert Renshaw

  contact,

  [email protected]

  [email protected]

  0431301426 (Australia)

  +61431301426 (overseas enquiry)

  this play remains the property of the author and no part may be reproduced

  without written permission.

  If you have received this as a submission for a play festival or sent for your appraisal

  please know that the author has sent this and read all the submission guidelines agrees to same,