ACT 2, SCENE 8

LOCATIONS SIGNAGE: OXFORD, 1912

HARRY AND ESME’S FRONT ROOM

ESME: Da? You’re still up? It’s way past your bedtime.

HARRY: Who are you lecturing about bedtimes, young woman?

ESME: Not so young, Da.

HARRY: Am I so old?

ESME: Of course not.

HARRY: Just tired.

ESME: Yes.

HARRY: That is an extremely pleasant young-ish man who brought you home.

ESME: Don’t, Da.

HARRY: I should note that, as foreman, Gareth Owen is one of the few people Mr Hart trusts to convey concerns about style.

ESME: I’m tired, too, Da.

HARRY: And James Murray also. I think the word is respect.

ESME: It was late. Gareth walked me home after tonight’s suffragist meeting. Is all.

HARRY: As he’s done for the last two months that your fiery friend has been in town.

ESME: Is. All.

HARRY: I fear. You may be punishing yourself, Esme.

ESME: Perhaps I am. Perhaps I have done something deserving of punishment to give such beauty away.

HARRY: But you are certain that she’s in good hands.

ESME: Oh yes. Better than my own. Utterly certain. But that doesn’t change the act, does it?

HARRY: Isn’t love the cure for pain?

ESME: Da! Look at me! I have neither education nor money and my reputation relies on secrets and lies.

HARRY: Esme.

ESME: I have made choices. And one of those choices was not to seek marriage.

HARRY: Lily would like him very much.

ESME: Da! Mama is dead!

HARRY: (beat) I still take her flowers, you know. Rush daffodils when I can. Or lily-of-the-valley. I leave them for her down at the Oxford Canal. I chat to her at Walton Well Bridge. About you, mostly.

ESME: Why there?

HARRY: I would have thought it was obvious.

ESME: It’s not.

HARRY: She was visiting Oxford. I came down from Edinburgh. We walked the canal. We got to the bridge. And I asked for her hand.

ESME: (beat) Please, Da. I would have to tell him, wouldn’t I? And thus lose his respect. Which I confess I value. So, if I have your love –

HARRY: Always!

ESME: – and Ditte’s. And Lizzie’s. With no secrets. You all just – love me. That’ll be enough.

HARRY: The joy of my life you are, Esme Nicoll.

ESME: The burden.

HARRY: Tush!

He shuts his eyes.

ESME: I’ll make supper.

HARRY: No. Let me. (he walks to the door – stops; something has changed) Esme.

ESME: Da?

HARRY: I can’t open the door.

ESME: Oh. Let me.

ESME opens the door for him. Goes back to prepare the tea.

HARRY: Thank you. (he goes through the door) (shocked call) Esme!

ESME: Da?

Sound of falling.

The teacup knocks over, the water spreads on the paper as she runs to the door, looks in.

ESME: Oh no! No! Da!

FX: ‘LOCH LOMOND’ STARTS …

ESME returns to her previous position, very slowly pats the spilt tea dry.

FX: ‘LOCH LOMOND’ PLAYS OUT …

A beat. Perhaps she very carefully wipes her face dry of tears.

Walks very slowly downstage, straightening as she goes.

LIGHTS DOWN