Joan is in her kitchen preparing the tea. There was some nice plaice in the shop today, but she chose hake for a change, and now she can’t decide what sort of potatoes to cook with it. She’s not getting far because she’s preoccupied with concerns over her daughter April, and as we meet her she’s poring over a letter from a solicitor.
In comes her friend Sharon. Sharon appears to like grapes in every form, whether from the fruit bowl or from a wine bottle, and the latter she can drink as though it were water. What she likes more than anything though is a good natter and putting the world to rights. It’s not like her to gossip of course, but she’s good at reading other people’s correspondence and at getting them to dish the latest news. Handy for her that Joan’s resolutely sealed lips can easily be made to leak secrets.
Joan is worried because April is being sued by a man from work who she’s accused of sexual harassment. It’s clear that Joan is more than sceptical about April’s claims, on account of the fact that she has made a habit of it in the past. Joan clearly doesn’t believe a word of it but, aware that she has already said too much, she exhorts Sharon to keep it all to herself. Sharon’s face tells us that it’ll be halfway round town in no time, as she drains the rest of the wine from the bottle.
Sharon leaves and April arrives, and begins helping her mum with the tea. She’s unable to calm her down, as she gets more and more worried that dad expects tea on the table like clockwork. The only evidence of dad is the blaring TV in the next room, and the increasing unease in April’s voice tells us that all isn’t quite right. With Sharon’s return it becomes clear that April’s story is making its way round the local community at speed, thanks to Sharon’s brand of discretion. After a heated exchange about this we finally return to the vexed question of dad, the TV, and the importance of tea time.
Graham Edgington’s play is brought to the stage here by James Edgington, who previously directed the work in an online version. It feels like one of those vignette episodes of a TV soap which focuses on a small group of characters. The two threads of story – April’s legal problem and dad, the elephant in the other room – seem to overshadow each other. It feels as though there is more to be said about April’s historical accusations and how they compare to the one that has brought her to face a court case. Has she been crying wolf before, making her unable to get a genuine case of harassment to stick, or is it more complicated than that? There is a frustrating sense that we’re not getting the full story either from Joan or April here. Meanwhile the truth about dad, revealed in the last few breaths of the text, is almost thrown away, and again more could be made of this issue that hangs like a cloud over the entire piece.
Denice Hope, Samantha Power and Elise Carman all put in strong performances as the distracted mother, the gossip hungry friend and the frustrated daughter. They revel in the wit of the writing and are also clearly attuned to the emotional backstory of the characters that we, as an audience, don’t get to explore.
Tea Time is a warm and funny snapshot of a family trying to heal itself, and perhaps an extended version enabling the characters to flesh out their issues in more detail would be a valuable project to consider.
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