A Touch of Love

Hello, Rosamund.

Oh, we've come to take you out to the movies.

What?

Yeah, we're gonna see that new film

- with the curfew. - No, I've seen it.

- I told you. - You can't see it again?

- No. - What's the matter?

You're not ill, are you?

Aren't you gonna ask us in?

Yes.

I expect to, of course, I'm sorry.

What's going on with her?

Well is gone, now look darling,

if you don't want to go to the pictures,

why don't you come and have a drink?

No.

Oh come on, Ros, don't be unkind to us.

- No. - It's six a pair on summer.

Or better still, why don't you offer us a drink here?

That's a present, that gin,

from my Director of Studies.

It's his birthday.

Yes, well you can't drink it all by yourself, can you?

Yes, well, that's just what I've been wondering.

I've nothing to put in the gin but orange.

Do you mind?

It's fine for me.

I thought I had some tomato juice

but I seem to have drunk it.

Who one earth is Mrs. Lester Baud Bowden?

Ros, you do have some odd friends.

Oh they're not my friends at all.

They're friends of Roger's.

They would be.

Why does Carlotta write to you and not to me?

What's all this about a short stowing in Calder?

She never tells me anything.

She is a cow.

You shouldn't read other people's letters.

You might find something you don't like.

No worse than reading other people's novels.

I find my novels are far more intimate

than my letters.

Well that's because you write feminine novels, Lydia.

Actually I got stuck in my new book,

don't have anymore to say.

No more to reveal, you mean.

Well, and what are you going to do about it?

I don't know, I just have to wait

for something else to happen that's weird.

Waiting for a new crisis,

there must be one just around the corner.

Don't you think, Ros, don't you think?

A new crisis, yes, I imagine so.

Or you could always manufacture one.

Why don't you get yourself a television set, Ros?

Then we could all sit here and watch it

instead of dragging ourselves out into the night.

Can't really afford it.

Can't afford it?

Come off it, Ros.

I bet you really don't like television, don't you?

Our Rosamund's a puritan at heart, you know?

She doesn't like anything that's fun.

That's true, Ros, isn't it?

Yes.

Funny, isn't it?

You should have gone with the others.

I wish you were mine.

No you don't.

You enjoy my platonic admiration.

It sets a higher value on you.

I just don't like to think of you

preferring that terrifying product of Eton and Cambridge

to me, that's all.

Who, Roger?

Poor Roger.

Unlike you, he's rich,

he's serious, and he's got a real job.

You're only good for decoration, you know?

Well why don't you marry him then?

Well why?

Nobody seems to enjoy being married very much.

You didn't, did you?

No.

But it had to be done just the same.

Bastard you all are, you drank my gin.

It's empty!

Why don't you sleep with me?

You ought to, you know?

No.

You like to be my good friend.

Lydia thinks that I sleep with both of you, you know?

You and Roger.

Well that's because she just can't believe anyone

could prefer him to me.

Give me a kiss, Ros.

Give me one of your lovely kisses.

All right.

Close your eyes.

Rosamund, you're decadence itself.

You really are, you know?

That's spiral flower.

Not at all.

The fault lies in you for soliciting such gifts.

Come on, come on, you've got to go.

You've got to get off, come on.

Well, not really.

Yes.

Do you mean you're expecting someone?

Yes, that might be the reason.

Oh, Christ, Ros, you could have said so,

then I could have gone with Mike and Lydia.

Look, I really didn't mean to...

Well, you know what I mean.

Thanks for the drink.

It was nice to see you.

Will you give me a ring?

Well I'll see you on Saturday anyway at Mike's.

Yes, I expect so.

Well.

Well it's my turn to kiss you.

Have I time?

Just about.

Close your eyes.

Good night, Ros.

Sorry, I didn't notice what the time was.

But where were you?

We waited for 15 minutes.

No, we had to go on, I mean.

But we have all those things to cross.

How awful, how awful.

You should have stopped him, Ros.

What could I have done, what could I have said?

Please, don't drink my gin.

I'm just about to drink it all myself

and jump into a bath with boiling water.

It's a rotten method, you know?

It's very unreliable.

Yes, is it then?

Well it's what they do in books, you know?

Come to think of it, you couldn't very well

have said anything, not with Joe there.

You haven't told him yet, have you?

Well it's not his, as a matter of fact.

Oh I see.

So what are you gonna do now?

I don't know, have it, I suppose.

Have what?

The baby.

What about your thesis, Ros, you can't!

No, I expect you are right.

You're absolutely certain?

Yes, of course I'm certain.

Tell you what.

I can give you an address.

It might not be any good.

It was given to me by a friend

to pass on to somebody.

But you could always give him a ring anyway.

She said say you're a student.

Yes, well so I am, after a fashion.

All right?

It's not bad.

I'm going to have a baby.

Oh, I thought you were.

What?

I said I thought you were.

What do you mean you thought I was?

Who told you?

Oh, nobody told me, I could see it for myself.

And frankly, in that dress.

Don't be rude, Roger.

It was the only one that was appropriate

for those respectable friends of yours.

My, my, my Rosamund,

don't get cross and don't start abusing my friends.

And do, in all our defence

did you getting all pregnant so casually,

what are they gonna do about you?

That's what comes with knowing a lot

of pseudo-intellectuals and layabouts.

I could never tell when you're joking.

He's married already, isn't he?

Who?

Your friend Joe.

Joe Hurt, who else?

Who else indeed?

Why isn't he going to marry you?

Because I don't want him to.

I haven't told him.

I only told you because I thought I ought to.

I mean it wouldn't have been fair, would it,

to let you go on taking me out

and me getting bigger and bigger every day,

and my not saying anything.

You don't feel like getting married?

Not to any man?

Not particularly.

As a matter of fact, not at all.