My Beautiful Launderette, Page 2

  JOHNNY is an attractive man in his early twenties, quick and funny.

  OMAR doesn’t see JOHNNY but JOHNNY sees him and is startled. To avoid OMAR, in the middle of the road, JOHNNY takes GENGHIS’s arm a moment.

  GENGHIS stops suddenly. MOOSE charges into the back of him. GENGHIS drops the newspapers. GENGHIS remonstrates with MOOSE. JOHNNY watches OMAR go. The traffic stops while MOOSE picks up the newspapers. GENGHIS starts to sneeze. MOOSE gives him a handkerchief.

  They walk across the road, laughing at the waiting traffic.

  They know the collapsed BUSKER. He could even be a member of the gang. JOHNNY still watches OMAR’s disappearing back.

  GENGHIS and MOOSE prepare the newspapers.

  JOHNNY: (Indicating OMAR) That kid. We were like that.

  GENGHIS: (Sneezing over MOOSE’s face) You don’t believe in nothing.

  INT. UNDERGROUND GARAGE. DAY

  Uncle Nasser’s garage. It’s a small private place where wealthy businessmen keep their cars during the day. It’s almost full and contains about fifty cars – all Volvos, Rolls-Royces, Mercedes, Rovers, etc.

  At the end of the garage is a small glassed-in office.

  OMAR is walking down the ramp and into the garage.

  INT. GARAGE OFFICE. DAY

  The glassed-in office contains a desk, a filing cabinet, a typewriter, phone etc. With NASSER is SALIM.

  SALIM is a Pakistani in his late thirties, well-dressed in an expensive, smooth and slightly vulgar way. He moves restlessly about the office. Then he notices OMAR wandering about the garage. He watches him.

  Meanwhile, NASSER is speaking on the phone in the background.

  NASSER: (Into phone) We’ve got one parking space, yes. It’s £25 a week. And from this afternoon we provide a special on the premises ‘clean-the-car’ service. New thing.

  (From Salim’s POV in the office, through the glass, we see OMAR trying the door of one of the cars. SALIM goes quickly out of the office.)

  INT. GARAGE. DAY

  SALIM stands outside the office and shouts at OMAR. The sudden sharp voice in the echoing garage.

  SALIM: Hey! Is that your car? Why are you feeling it up then? (OMAR looks at him.) Come here. Here, I said.

  INT. GARAGE OFFICE. DAY

  NASSER puts down the phone.

  INT. GARAGE OFFICE. DAY

  NASSER is embracing OMAR vigorously, squashing him to him and bashing him lovingly on the back.

  NASSER: (Introducing him to SALIM.) This one who nearly beat you up is Salim. You’ll see a lot of him.

  SALIM: (Shaking hands with OMAR) I’ve heard many great things about your father.

  NASSER: (To OMAR) I must see him. Oh God, how have I got time to do anything?

  SALIM: You’re too busy keeping this damn country in the black. Someone’s got to do it.

  NASSER: (To OMAR) Your papa, he got thrown out of that clerk’s job I fixed him with? He was pissed?

  (OMAR nods. NASSER looks regretfully at the boy.)

  Can you wash a car?

  (OMAR looks uncertain.)

  SALIM: Have you washed a car before?

  (OMAR nods.)

  Your uncle can’t pay you much. But you’ll be able to afford a decent shirt and you’ll be with your own people. Not in a dole queue. Mrs Thatcher will be pleased with me.

  INT. GARAGE. DAY

  SALIM and OMAR walk across the garage towards a big car. OMAR carries a full bucket of water and a cloth. He listens to SALIM.

  SALIM: It’s easy to wash a car. You just wet a rag and rub. You know how to rub, don’t you?

  (The bucket is overfull. OMAR carelessly bangs it against his leg. Water slops out. SALIM dances away irritably. OMAR walks on. SALIM points to a car. RACHEL swings down the ramp and into the garage, gloriously.)

  Hi, baby.

  RACHEL: My love.

  (And she goes into the garage office. We see her talking and laughing with NASSER.)

  SALIM: (Indicating car) And you do this one first. Carefully, as if you were restoring a Renaissance painting. It’s my car.

  (OMAR looks up and watches as RACHEL and NASSER go out through the back of the garage office into the room at the back.)

  INT. ROOM AT BACK OF GARAGE OFFICE. DAY

  RACHEL and NASSER, half-undressed, are drinking, laughing and screwing on a bulging sofa in the wrecked room behind the office, no bigger than a large cupboard. RACHEL is bouncing up and down on his huge stomach in her red corset and outrageous worn-for-a-joke underwear.

  NASSER: Rachel, fill my glass, darling.

  (RACHEL does so, then she begins to move on him.)

  RACHEL: Fill mine.

  NASSER: What am I, Rachel, your trampoline?

  RACHEL: Yes, oh, je vous aime beaucoup, trampoline.

  NASSER: Speak my language, dammit.

  RACHEL: I do nothing else. Nasser, d’you think we’ll ever part?

  NASSER: Not at the moment.

  (Slapping her arse) Keep moving, I love you. You move … Christ … like a liner …

  RACHEL: And can’t we go away somewhere?

  NASSER: Yes, I’m taking you.

  RACHEL: Where?

  NASSER: Kempton Park, Saturday.

  RACHEL: Great. We’ll take the boy.

  NASSER: No, I’ve got big plans for him.

  RACHEL: You’re going to make him work?

  INT. GARAGE OFFICE. DAY

  OMAR has come into the garage office with his car-washing bucket and sponge. SALIM has gone home. OMAR is listening at the door to his uncle NASSER and RACHEL screwing. He hears:

  NASSER: Work? That boy? You’ll think the word was invented for him!

  INT. COCKTAIL BAR/CLUB. EVENING

  RACHEL and NASSER have taken OMAR to Anwar’s club/bar. OMAR watches Anwar’s son TARIQ behind the bar. TARIQ is rather contemptuous of OMAR and listens to their conversation.

  OMAR eats peanuts and olives off the bar. TARIQ removes the bowl.

  NASSER: By the way, Rachel is my old friend. (To her.) Eh?

  OMAR: (To NASSER) How’s Auntie Bilquis?

  NASSER: (Glancing at amused RACHEL) She’s at home with the kids.

  OMAR: Papa sends his love. Uncle, if I picked Papa up–

  NASSER: (Indicating the club) Have you been to a high-class place like this before? I suppose you stay in that black-hole flat all the time.

  OMAR: If I picked Papa up, uncle –

  NASSER: (To RACHEL) He’s one of those underprivileged types.

  OMAR: And squeezed him, squeezed Papa out, like that, Uncle, I often imagine. I’d get –

  NASSER: Two fat slaps.

  OMAR: Two bottles of pure vodka. And a kind of flap of skin. (To RACHEL.) Like a French letter.

  NASSER: What are you talking, madman? I love my brother. And I love you.

  OMAR: I don’t understand how you can … love me.

  NASSER: Because you’re such a prick?

  OMAR: You can’t be sure that I am.

  RACHEL: Nasser.

  NASSER: She’s right. Don’t deliberately egg me on to laugh at you when I’ve brought you here to tell you one essential thing. Move closer.

  (OMAR attempts to drag the stool he is sitting on near to NASSER. He crashes off it. RACHEL helps him up, laughing. TARIQ also laughs. NASSER is solicitous.)

  In this damn country which we hate and love, you can get anything you want. It’s all spread out and available. That’s why I believe in England. You just have to know how to squeeze the tits of the system.

  RACHEL: (To OMAR) He’s saying he wants to help you.

  OMAR: What are you going to do with me?

  NASSER: What am I going to do with you? Make you into something damn good. Your father can’t now, can he?

  (RACHEL nods at NASSER and he takes out his wallet. He gives OMAR money. OMAR doesn’t want to take it. NASSER shoves it down Omar’s jumper, then cuddles his confused nephew.)

  Damn fool, you’re just like a son to me. (Looking at RACHEL.) To bot
h of us.

  INT. GARAGE. DAY

  OMAR is vigorously washing down a car, the last to be cleaned in the garage. The others cars are gleaming. NASSER comes quickly out of the office and watches OMAR squeezing a cloth over a bucket.

  NASSER: You like this work? (OMAR shrugs.) Come on, for Christ’s sake, take a look at these accounts for me.

  (OMAR follows him into the garage office.)

  INT. GARAGE OFFICE. NIGHT

  OMAR is sitting at the office desk in his shirt-sleeves. The desk is covered with papers. He’s been sitting there some time and it is late. Most of the cars in the garage have gone.

  NASSER drives into the garage, wearing evening clothes. RACHEL, looking divine, is with him. OMAR goes out to them.

  INT. GARAGE. NIGHT

  NASSER: (From the car) Kiss Rachel. (OMAR kisses her.)

  OMAR: I’ll finish the paperwork tonight, Uncle.

  NASSER: (To RACHEL) He’s such a good worker I’m going to promote him.

  RACHEL: What to?

  NASSER: (To OMAR) Come to my house next week and I’ll tell you.

  RACHEL: It’s far. How will he get there?

  NASSER: I’ll give him a car, dammit. (He points to an old convertible parked in the garage. It has always looked out of place.) The keys are in the office. Anything he wants. (He moves the car off. To OMAR.) Oh yes, I’ve got a real challenge lined up for you.

  (RACHEL blows him a kiss as they drive off.)

  INT. PAPA’S FLAT. EVENING

  PAPA is lying on the bed drinking. OMAR, in new clothes, tie undone, comes into the room and puts a plate of steaming food next to PAPA. Stew and potatoes. OMAR turns away and looking in the mirror snips at the hair in his nostrils with a large pair of scissors.

  PAPA: You must be getting married. Why else would you be dressed like an undertaker on holiday?

  OMAR: Going to Uncle’s house, Papa. He’s given me a car.

  PAPA: What? The brakes must be faulty. Tell me one thing because there’s something I don’t understand, though it must be my fault. How is it that scrubbing cars can make a son of mine look so ecstatic?

  OMAR: It gets me out of the house.

  PAPA: Don’t get too involved with that crook. You’ve got to study. We are under siege by the white man. For us education is power.

  (OMAR shakes his head at his father.)

  Don’t let me down.

  EXT. COUNTRY LANE. EVENING

  OMAR, in the old convertible, speeds along a country lane in Kent. The car has its roof down, although it’s raining. Loud music playing on the radio.

  He turns into the drive of a large detached house. The house is brightly lit. There are seven or eight cars in the drive. OMAR sits there a moment, music blaring.

  INT. LIVING ROOM IN NASSER’S HOUSE. EVENING

  A large living room furnished in the modern style. A shy OMAR has been led in by BILQUIS, Nasser’s wife. She is a shy, middle-aged Pakistani woman. She speaks and understands English, but is uncertain in the language. But she is warm and friendly.

  OMAR has already been introduced to most of the women in the room.

  There are five women there: a selection of wives; plus Bilquis’s three daughters. The eldest, TANIA, is in her early twenties.

  CHERRY, Salim’s Anglo-Indian wife is there.

  Some of the women are wearing saris or salwar kamiz, though not necessarily only the Pakistani women.

  TANIA wears jeans and T-shirt. She watches OMAR all through this and OMAR, when he can, glances at her. She is attracted to him.

  BILQUIS: (To OMAR) and this is Salim’s wife, Cherry. And of course you remember our three naughty daughters.

  CHERRY: (Ebulliently to BILQUIS) He has his family’s cheekbones, Bilquis. (To OMAR.) I know all your gorgeous family in Karachi.

  OMAR: (This is a faux pas) You’ve been there?

  CHERRY: You stupid, what a stupid, it’s my home. Could anyone in their right mind call this silly little island off Europe their home? Every day in Karachi, every day your other uncles and cousins are at our house for bridge, booze and VCR.

  BILQUIS: Cherry, my little nephew knows nothing of that life there.

  CHERRY: Oh God, I’m so sick of hearing about these in-betweens. People should make up their minds where they are.

  TANIA: Uncle’s next door. (Leading him away. Quietly.) Can you see me later? I’m so bored with these people.

  (CHERRY stares at TANIA, not approving of this whispering and cousin-closeness. TANIA glares back defiantly at her. BILQUIS looks warmly at OMAR.)

  INT. CORRIDOR OF NASSER’S HOUSE. DAY

  TANIA takes OMAR by the hand down the corridor to Nasser’s room. She opens the door and leads him in.

  INT. NASSER’S ROOM. EVENING

  Nasser’s room is further down the corridor. It’s his bedroom but where he receives guests. And he has a VCR in the room, a fridge, small bar, etc. Behind his bed a window which overlooks the garden.

  OMAR goes into the smoke-filled room, led by TANIA. She goes.

  NASSER is lying on his bed in the middle of the room like a fat king. His cronies are gathered round the bed. ZAKI, SALIM, an ENGLISHMAN and an American called DICK O’DONNELL.

  They’re shouting and hooting and boozing and listening to NASSER’s story, which he tells with great energy. OMAR stands inside the door shyly, and takes in the scene.

  NASSER: There’d been some tappings on the window. But who would stay in a hotel without tappings? My brother Hussein, the boy’s papa, in his usual way hadn’t turned up and I was asleep. I presumed he was screwing some barmaid somewhere. Then when these tappings went on I got out of bed and opened the door to the balcony. and there he was, standing outside. With some woman! They were completely without clothes! And blue with cold! They looked like two bars of soap. This I refer to as my brother’s blue period.

  DICK O’DONNELL: What happened to the woman?

  NASSER: He married her.

  (When NASSER notices the boy, conversation ceases with a wave of his hand. And NASSER unembarrassedly calls him over to be fondled and patted.) Come along, come along. Your father’s a good man.

  DICK O’DONNELL: This is the famous Hussein’s son?

  NASSER: The exact bastard. My blue brother was also a famous journalist in Bombay and great drinker. He was to the bottle what Louis Armstrong is to the trumpet.

  SALIM: But you are to the bookie what Mother Theresa is to the children.

  ZAKI: (To NASSER) Your brother was the clever one. You used to carry his typewriter.

  (TANIA appears at the window behind the bed, where no one sees her but OMAR and then ZAKI. Later in the scene, laughing and to distract the serious-faced OMAR, she bares her breasts. ZAKI sees this and cannot believe his swimming-in-drink eyes.)

  DICK O’DONNELL: Isn’t he coming tonight?

  SALIM (To NASSER) Whatever happened to him?

  OMAR: Papa’s lying down.

  SALIM: I meant his career.

  NASSER: That’s lying down too. What chance would the Englishman give a leftist communist Pakistani on newspapers?

  OMAR: Socialist. Socialist.

  NASSER: What chance would the Englishman give a leftist communist socialist?

  ZAKI: What chance has the racist Englishman given us that we haven’t torn from him with our hands? Let’s face up to it. (And ZAKI has seen the breasts of TANIA. He goes white and panics.)

  NASSER: Zaki, have another stiff drink for that good point!

  ZAKI: Nasser, please God, I am on the verge already!

  ENGLISHMAN: Maybe Omar’s father didn’t make chances for himself. Look at you, Salim, five times richer and more powerful than me.

  SALIM: Five times? Ten, at least.

  ENGLISHMAN: In my country! The only prejudice in England is against the useless.

  SALIM: It’s rather tilted in favour of the useless I would think. The only positive discrimination they have here.

  (The PAKISTANIS in the room laugh at this. The ENGLISHMAN
looks annoyed. DICK O’DONNELL smiles sympathetically at the ENGLISHMAN.)

  DICK O’DONNELL: (To NASSER) Can I make this nice boy a drink?

  NASSER: Make him a man first.

  SALIM: (To ZAKI) Give him a drink. I like him. He’s our future.

  INT. THE VERANDAH. NIGHT

  OMAR shuts the door of Nasser’s room and walks down the hall, to a games room at the end. This is a verandah overlooking the garden. There’s a table-tennis table, various kids’ toys, an exercise cycle, some cane chairs and on the walls numerous photographs of India.

  TANIA turns as he enters and goes eagerly to him, touching him warmly.

  TANIA: It’s been years. And you’re looking good now. I bet we understand each other, eh?

  (He can’t easily respond to her enthusiasm. Unoffended, she swings away from him. He looks at photographs of his Papa and Bhutto on the wall.)

  Are they being cruel to you in their typical men’s way? (He shrugs.) You don’t mind?

  OMAR: I think I should harden myself.

  TANIA: (Patting seat next to her) Wow, what are you into?

  OMAR: Your father’s done well.

  (He sits. She kisses him on the lips. They hold each other.)

  TANIA: Has he? He adores you. I expect he wants you to take over the businesses. He wouldn’t think of asking me. But he is too vicious to people in his work. He doesn’t want you to work in that shitty laundrette, does he?

  OMAR: What’s wrong with it?

  TANIA: And he has a mistress, doesn’t he?

  (OMAR looks up and sees AUNTI BILQUIS standing at the door. TANIA doesn’t see her.)