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Authors: Natasha Farrant
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around an obstacle course. Her pony knocked over two traffic cones and a tub of plastic geraniums. Gloria made her do it again. Crouched over the ponyâs neck, her black hair falling about her face and her cheeks flushed, Jas was like a different person, happy and confident, like she could take on anything. It was strange, looking at her. It made me wonder if this was the real Jas, as she was meant to be, as opposed to the Jas we see every day, who cries and worries and gets cross. It felt almost like I didnât know her. And then that made me think about how well we know anybody, including ourselves.
Jakeâs family have friends over from Australia this weekend, which means I canât see him. I asked him if he couldnât sneak away, just for a little bit, but he said no and he would see me at school on Monday.
Monday feels like an awfully long way away. I think I do like Jake now.
I canât believe I have a proper boyfriend! Mum came into my room tonight after I had gone to bed. She hasnât done that for ages. I thought, maybe mothers have a sort of instinct about these things and she has come to talk to me about Jake, but she didnât say anything at all for a really long time. She didnât get into bed with me, either, like she used to, but instead sat on my window seat, looking out at the garden even though it was completely dark.
âWeâll have to get a Christmas tree soon,â she said at last.
I got a lump in my throat then, because I thought I knew then what was troubling her. Christmas trees are always difficult in our family, because they always remind us of Iris.
âItâll be okay,â I said.
âWill it?â she asked. She looked like she often looks these days, like sheâs about to cry, and I finally screwed up the courage to ask what I havenât asked since she had that secret appointment with the doctor.
âMum, are you sure youâre okay?â I asked.
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou seem so sad.â
âIâm always sad at this time of year.â
âApart from that.â
âThere is nothing to worry about,â Mum said, and I know I should have been nice, but Iâm really tired of her secrets. So instead I said that if there was nothing else she needed could she please get out of my room because I wanted to go to sleep.
âDonât be cross,â she said.
âDonât be annoying,â I replied.
She left, like I asked, but then I wished she hadnât. Iâm not quite sure how you do tell your mum about your boyfriend, but I think it might have been nice to talk to her about Jake. And we used to have this thing in our family, before Iris died, where nobody was allowed to go to bed angry or sad, but that clearly doesnât apply anymore.
THE FILM DIARIES OF BLUEBELL GADSBY
SCENE FIVE (TRANSCRIPT)
The Dinner Party
INTERIOR, NIGHT.
Once again, we are in the Gadsby family kitchen, with MOTHER at the cooking range, this time doing something complicated with prunes. A leg of lamb rests on top of the stove, and an apple tart sits on the side, next to a bowl of custard.
FATHER sets the table. Under strict instructions, he takes unusual care over this, putting out candles and silverware and the tablecloth inherited from Motherâs grandmother, vintage linen with lace trimmings. JASMINE sits on the sofa with her nose in a book and the kittens in her lap. Father places plates of smoked salmon on the table.
FATHER
(irritable)
It would be nice if at least one of my daughters helped me.
Â
MOTHER
(oddly soothing)
Donât be cross, darling. I asked Blue to film this. I thought it would be nice. Jas, give your father a hand.
Â
Jasmine sighs and peels herself off the sofa. The kittens (now over four months old and no longer tiny) start to pad around the room.
JASMINE
(taking in extent of food spread for the first time)
Is anyone coming for dinner?
Â
MOTHER
(sounding
Jakeâs family have friends over from Australia this weekend, which means I canât see him. I asked him if he couldnât sneak away, just for a little bit, but he said no and he would see me at school on Monday.
Monday feels like an awfully long way away. I think I do like Jake now.
I canât believe I have a proper boyfriend! Mum came into my room tonight after I had gone to bed. She hasnât done that for ages. I thought, maybe mothers have a sort of instinct about these things and she has come to talk to me about Jake, but she didnât say anything at all for a really long time. She didnât get into bed with me, either, like she used to, but instead sat on my window seat, looking out at the garden even though it was completely dark.
âWeâll have to get a Christmas tree soon,â she said at last.
I got a lump in my throat then, because I thought I knew then what was troubling her. Christmas trees are always difficult in our family, because they always remind us of Iris.
âItâll be okay,â I said.
âWill it?â she asked. She looked like she often looks these days, like sheâs about to cry, and I finally screwed up the courage to ask what I havenât asked since she had that secret appointment with the doctor.
âMum, are you sure youâre okay?â I asked.
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou seem so sad.â
âIâm always sad at this time of year.â
âApart from that.â
âThere is nothing to worry about,â Mum said, and I know I should have been nice, but Iâm really tired of her secrets. So instead I said that if there was nothing else she needed could she please get out of my room because I wanted to go to sleep.
âDonât be cross,â she said.
âDonât be annoying,â I replied.
She left, like I asked, but then I wished she hadnât. Iâm not quite sure how you do tell your mum about your boyfriend, but I think it might have been nice to talk to her about Jake. And we used to have this thing in our family, before Iris died, where nobody was allowed to go to bed angry or sad, but that clearly doesnât apply anymore.
THE FILM DIARIES OF BLUEBELL GADSBY
SCENE FIVE (TRANSCRIPT)
The Dinner Party
INTERIOR, NIGHT.
Once again, we are in the Gadsby family kitchen, with MOTHER at the cooking range, this time doing something complicated with prunes. A leg of lamb rests on top of the stove, and an apple tart sits on the side, next to a bowl of custard.
FATHER sets the table. Under strict instructions, he takes unusual care over this, putting out candles and silverware and the tablecloth inherited from Motherâs grandmother, vintage linen with lace trimmings. JASMINE sits on the sofa with her nose in a book and the kittens in her lap. Father places plates of smoked salmon on the table.
FATHER
(irritable)
It would be nice if at least one of my daughters helped me.
Â
MOTHER
(oddly soothing)
Donât be cross, darling. I asked Blue to film this. I thought it would be nice. Jas, give your father a hand.
Â
Jasmine sighs and peels herself off the sofa. The kittens (now over four months old and no longer tiny) start to pad around the room.
JASMINE
(taking in extent of food spread for the first time)
Is anyone coming for dinner?
Â
MOTHER
(sounding
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