DIALOGUE IN EDINBURGH
By Susanna Roxman
Cast:
ANDREW, a classical musician in his 40’s.
DAVID, an actor in his 50’s.
WAITER, in his 30’s. A silent rôle.
At a smart, rather cosy, at the moment quiet restaurant
in central Edinburgh. It’s an August evening towards the end
of the Edinburgh Festival. Andrew and David, both a little
tipsy, are sharing a (second) bottle of wine. When we first
see them, the last bars of some traditional Scottish song,
played on a piano, is heard. The dialogue has already begun,
so to speak; we’re tuned in gradually.
ANDREW: She’s lovely as a person, as a partner.
DAVID: You seem happy together, it’s
heartening to watch.
ANDREW: I never thought love would
unfold so late.
DAVID: You were fated to meet. I’m
envious, you know.
ANDREW: What happened to John?
DAVID: I don’t know. He’s gone.
ANDREW: How do you mean, gone?
DAVID: With the wind and snow.
ANDREW: You were together at our
wedding.
DAVID: Yes, I know. I must say it
rather hurts to remember.
ANDREW: December, that wasn’t very long
ago. So what happened in between?
DAVID: God knows.
ANDREW: And what will happen?
DAVID: Remains to be seen.
ANDREW: He seemed so boyish, had a
great sense of fun.
DAVID: People sometimes thought he was
my son.
ANDREW: Didn’t you help him a lot in
his career?
DAVID: He was dear to me, Andy. Very
dear.
ANDREW: When did you two split up?
DAVID: I wish this cup would pass from
me.
ANDREW: He left you very recently, I
think.
DAVID: Since then I’ve been standing on
a kind of brink.
ANDREW: An extreme situation, yes. I
understand.
DAVID: Never had a dream as bad.
ANDREW: But you should look ahead.
DAVID: More dead than alive, I often
feel.
ANDREW: If that’s any comfort, you look
very well.
DAVID: Hell, let’s talk about something
nice. (Raises his glass.) Prue’s clearly superior to
your earlier girls.
ANDREW (Raises his glass): She’s a
precious pearl, body and mind.
(The men drink simultaneously, then put
their glasses down.)
DAVID: The others appeared unfinished, crude, like pottery
not yet fired and glazed. Facing the future, Prue moves
unfazed.
ANDREW: You’re in a strange mood.
DAVID: Life’s weird, as all things
prove.
ANDREW: Love and art make it
worthwhile.
DAVID: Art alone for me, love is passé.
ANDREW: For my poor part, I disagree.
Women and men admire you, as you’re aware.
DAVID: No woman could quench my fire.
You know that very well.
Let me tell you this: if you hadn’t
been straight I’d asked you for a date ages ago.
ANDREW (a little amused): So this isn’t a date?
DAVID: Don’t be naïve.
ANDREW: I’m flattered. It grieves me I
can’t comply.
DAVID: I wouldn’t force you.
ANDREW (ironically): Thoughtful and
kind.
DAVID: And love’s not blind.
ANDREW: It’s partly your fame. Your
more than familiar name scares people off.
DAVID (drily): I realize as much.
ANDREW: Such glory as you possess cuts
two ways, attracts and repels.
DAVID: I don’t like dwelling on
unpleasant facts.
ANDREW: You know you’re always welcome
to Prue and me.
DAVID (maudlin) You two, I confess, are
my best friends. The rest are bores, or only want my help in
their careers.
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