Sheila. A short monologue

Sheila, 55, is in a dressing gown, trainers and reading glasses. She has just had a shower. It is 4 a.m. and dark outside. She is stood in her kitchen, reading yesterday’s horoscope from a tabloid newspaper. Her laptop is on the table; next to it is a mug of strong black coffee. Her washing machine is washing a few clothes. It rattles, there is a belt and bag in there. Sheila is anxious.

Reads aloud

Hold onto your hats, dear Librans, because you are in for a few surprises. Try to keep your cool today or things could get a bit bumpy. Remember good friends are hard to find. Want to know more? Get my premium rate horoscope… blah blah

Throws paper down again and takes off reading glasses..  

I should have read it yesterday. What a bloody nightmare! No, worse than a nightmare. Is there anything worse? Oh god oh god, I wish it was just a dream.

She peeps through the curtains. Looks up and down the street. Washing machine kicks into loud full spin.


I’m washing him out of my knickers. I thought I might burn them, but at this point I think it’s usual to act normal. I chucked all of my clothes and my bag in just to be on the safe side… I doubt the bag will survive. (Shudders)

I’m cold, (feels forehead) I think I might be in shock. Come on Sheila pull yourself together. You’re cool in a crisis. Think… think…

Right. I’ve watered the plants. Set a rule on my inbox, set the video up for Orange is the New Black, Corrie, Strictly, Call the …

Ginger cat walks in to the room.


Oh Toots, come here. (scoops cat up) Mummy might have to go away. She’s ever so sorry… she didn’t mean it… (sad) She only wanted a cuddle… (cat jumps down) Please yourself.


Picks up mug


I’ve seen him around, with his mates. Nice smile, smart clothes, good arse for a man of his age. Fit, you know, like a runner. I’d got separated from the others. They all went out for a fag, I expect. Anyway we got talking, bit of a laugh, bit of a drink, bit of a dance. He was well gone; so I said I would drive him home.

Puts mug down

Do you think four will do it … I really can’t drink anymore?

Holds out hands, they shake.


Nice house. Good taste. I had to help him upstairs. He was slaughtered!

Looks at watch then with a sad smile


The sex was pretty bad… messy…. I don’t score… but from a possible 1 to 10 with 1 being bad and 10 blowing your mind… he was a… 0.75…

I can’t remember the last time I got held in someone’s arms…

She checks the street again


(To self) How long do these things take?

(To audience) Anyway, he said he felt sick and he thrashed his way to the en suite. I was still being nice, you know… optimistic… so I picked up the tissue box from the bedside table… there was a photograph frame underneath… face down.

She picks some fluff off her dressing gown


Well you’ve got to look, haven’t you?


Oh God, Tracey, I am so sorry.

Looks at the audience fiercely


The hours that I have spent listening to her telling me that she thinks he’s up to something. The hours… when we should have been doing stuff at work… watching her crying in the stock room… texting him…

Me? I’ve been saying that he was probably working too hard. Depressed…

Was he bollocks!


I could hear him throwing up into the lav… then he fell against the door, heavy like. So I got up, stuffed my clothes in my bag, put my coat on tight and left. It was dark. I came out of that estate like a bat out of hell.

Poor Tracey.

I was so disgusted… so guilty… so embarrassed… so fucking angry with myself. Well, I just put my foot down, I wanted to be at home, doors locked, in a scalding hot shower… scrubbing….


I didn’t see him… the drunk… lying in the road… he made a pretty loud bang.


How do you get blood off your engine block?

Turns to look out of the window





About Linda Nicklin

Live in the East Midlands with two cats and a dog. Occupational Therapist and serial course taker. Trying to find my voice through song, creative writing and this week block printing. Next week who knows...
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