A startling new hurdle

INTERIOR. Late afternoon. A COMELY MAIDEN dozes on a sofa under a duvet. It is LUCY, heroine of our piece.

PHONE RINGS: Rrrrring! Blip-whirr-click!

LUCY: Bleurg. Hello?
MARIE: Hellllloooo!
LUCY: Ugh.
MARIE: Are you asleep?
LUCY: I was trying to...

M: Well, it's five o'clock, you really shouldn't be.
L: Sigh. I'm terribly tired. I was dreaming...of facebook.
M: Good grief.
L: Yeah. Don't tell anyone.
M: Good night?
L: Very much so. Possibly still drunk.
M: Where is Mags? She's not answering any of her phones.
L: She's probably asleep too, if she knows whats good for her. Also her house has ridiculously bad coverage.
M: Ah-ha.
L: Why did you ring me looking for Mags? I'm not her minder.
M: You were my next choice.
L: I'm flattered.

[LUCY coughs loudly and at length]

M: That's attractive.
L: Thank you. I was saving it for ya. Where are you, standing in the rain? I can hear water noises.
M: The bath.
L: Ah, dude! The bath! Stop fecking ringing me from the bathroom, it's starting to make me uncomfortable.
M: I am very comfortable.
L: I don't doubt it.
M: So...tell me stuff.
L: I couldn't be bothered.

M: I'll tell you stuff so. We did the guest list.
L: For...?
M: My wedding? Like, hello?
L: Seriously? It's in two years dude, you surely won't like the same people in two years as you like now.
M: Yes I will! Anyway, mine comes to 150, and Aled's got 60.
L: Am I invited?
M: Like, duh.
L: On which list? Can I be on both?
M: ...
L: And get two dinners and two chairs? That would be deadly.
M: You'll get no dinner and no chair if you're not careful.
L: Well! That's a lot of people! You don't have 150 friends!
M: Yes I do, and anyway, that's people's 'plus one's aswell.

L: Fuuuuck. Do I get a plus one?
M: Of course!
L: Fuck you. Where am I going to find a plus one? The Internet?
M: Londis Corner?
L: Shit shit shit. Will Sally do? Shit shit shit.
M: Ah now. Dial it down, it's in two years.
L: You're saying there's a possibility I might meet and speak to a member of the opposite sex in the next two years?
M: Of course!
L: You're hopeful.

I verily believe...

I verily believe all that is desirable on earth- wealth, reputation, love- will forever to you be the ripe grapes on the high trellis: you'll look up at them; they will tantalize in you the lust of the eye; but they are out of reach: you have not the address to fetch a ladder, and you'll go away calling them sour.



Charlotte Bronte, The Professor (Ch. 22)