(Margaret and Michael are lying in bed, but all is not well between them.)

MICHAEL ARMSTRONG
Something's happening to us, isn't it? When I touch you, you... Oh, I don't know, but you...

MARGARET PORTER
I'm sorry. I don't mean to.

MICHAEL
It won't get any better...will it?...the way things are.

MARGARET
I... I do want you, but it... It's just the part of me...

MICHAEL
(suddenly angry)
Which part, Margaret?

MARGARET
Well, the, uh...the part that was made before I met you, I suppose...

MICHAEL
(almost shouting)
The part I barged in on this morning...

(Michael's anger causes Margaret to sit on the side of the bed, close to tears.)

MICHAEL
Oh, I'm sorry I did that. I just thought...

MARGARET
Yeah, well, did it help you to understand?

MICHAEL
Yes.

MARGARET
Yes, well, perhaps it's just as well you did, then. You know, when I first met John, all that I'd ever wanted... I mean, the...uh, you know, the kind of life I'd ever wanted was, uh...well, a bit like Mum and Dad, I suppose. Well, how I saw them, you know... I mean, a house and children. I thought all that meant love.

MICHAEL
Well, perhaps that's what it is.

(She stands up and walks across the bedroom.)

MICHAEL
You know, perhaps we're the ones who are kidding ourselves.

MARGARET
No. No, I... I don't think so. I mean, what we feel, we feel, and...
(laughing at the irony)
Well, if it's what we feel, it's what we feel, and...for us, now, it's real, but...
(becoming exasperated)
Well, I mean, in ten years' time, I'll be a middle-aged Liverpool schoolmistress, and you'll be... Well, how are we going to feel then?

(Overcome with emotion, she walks to the other room.)

MICHAEL
(shouting to her)
The same...I hope!

MARGARET
Well, suppose we don't?
(beginning to wash the cups and kettle)
Suppose, looking back, it...it all seems as unreal as if it never happened, and...all the pain, you know, of being...being torn this way...

(She slams the kettle, out of frustration, and Michael joins her in the other room.)

MARGARET
...this way and that, and...at the end of it all, it's just...
(crying)
Oh! It's just nothing!

MICHAEL
Now, don't say that.

(Beginning to sob, Margaret throws her arms around him, and Michael holds her close to him.)

MARGARET
(sobbing)
And then there's the baby that we nearly had, and it...and it's gone, and it's...it's not quite gone. I mean, it's like a little ghost walking between us for the rest of our lives.

MICHAEL
I love you. I do...really.

MARGARET
I know. Oh, Michael!

(She holds him tightly and continues to cry.)

 

(from "Into the Dark" by Jack Ronder and John Finch)