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JACKS: Sixty-seven. Good at hiding his selfishness.
ANABELLE: Fifteen. Granddaughter of Jacks. Alone.
SCENE
(Jacks hovers over Anabelle, who sits
hunched on a stool over a drawing, which is
situated on the inadequately small easel
before her. He is not overbearing but as
much concerned with detail and stroke as
she, if not more so. Anabelle is less
concerned with her autonomy as she is with
the annoyance of persisting voice in her ear.
Despite this, she feels empty without his
being right behind her.)
JACKS
Slide the brush to the leftjus' like that. That's right, Anabelle, jus' like that. Gentle now.
ANABELLE
I know, Grandpa.
JACKS
I'm jus' making sure. Nobody ever did a meadow justice by painting it with heavy strokes. It's a delicate thing it is.
(Jacks moves to grab the paintbrush from her hand. She
recoils, offended.)
ANABELLE
Grandpa!
JACKS
I'm sorry Anabelle. It's jus' the lighting is all. How are you ever going to learn if nobody shows you how?
ANABELLE
Well, I think my lighting is fine.
(Silence. Jacks doesn't quite hear her. He speaks to himself.)
ANABELLE
Grandpa, when are you and Grandmums going to adopt me?
JACKS
Jus' like that. Jus' a dabble and a flick of the wrist is all it needs
ANABELLE
Grandpa.
JACKS
I'm sorry, Anabelle. (Pause.) The papers are almost sorted out. Jus' a little more time is all. Some things you can't rush. (Beat.) I know how anxious you are to make your stay official. But you know that signing those papers doesn't mean anything. It's jus' words
ANABELLE
But they're words that mean something, Grandpa.
(Anabelle contorts her face in silent deliberation. She slowly
pulls her brush away from the canvas. Something is brewing
inside her.)
JACKS
Anabelle
ANABELLE
Why haven't you signed the papers?
JACKS
Aw, see, now the stroke is cut midway. The meadow'll never get that back
ANABELLE
Grandpa.
JACKS
You want me to take a stroke? Alright, well then
(Jacks moves to take the brush. He is oblivious to her
seething. She jumps off her stool, astounding the old man.
Her anger subsides rather quickly into despair.)
Anabelle!
ANABELLE
Grandpa, I saw the papers! I saw them on the desk last week. Unopened. They were sitting there in a pile, untouched like they probably were for months before!
JACKS
Anabelle, your grandmum and I, wewell, ever since your mother passed
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