(Margaret is in hospital, injured in an air raid, and David has come to visit her.)

DAVID ASHTON
Hey, the Wingco's* put me up for a commission, by the way. Yep! So they're sending me to Group for a session with the AOC...day after tomorrow.

*[Wing Commander]

MARGARET PORTER
Who's he, when he's at home?

DAVID
Air Officer Commanding. Well, aren't you going to congratulate me?

MARGARET
Don't you think I'd better wait until you've got it?

DAVID
(smiling)
Ah, it's a piece of cake, Maggie...the interview. I tell you, it's in the bag. Well, it will be in a couple of weeks.

MARGARET
Now, don't build yourself up too much.

DAVID
(annoyed)
Oh, you sound just like Sheila. I tell you, it's a certainty.

MARGARET
What does Sheila think about it?

DAVID
(shaking his head)
Ah, I haven't told her yet. She'll say the same as you, I suppose: "Don't build yourself up too much, David."

MARGARET
She'll be very proud of you, I'm sure.

DAVID
(doubtful)
Will she?
(shaking his head)
Oh, Mag, I can't seem to do anything right for Sheila these days.

MARGARET
Oh, now, David...

DAVID
Look, uh...that chap of yours will be getting impatient to come in. I'd better go. It's time I was going anyway.

(He picks up his overcoat from the bed.)

MARGARET
The war won't last forever, you know. It'll be over one day, and you'll have the kids back again, and...everything will be just the same as it was.

DAVID
But I don't want that, Mag. I don't want everything to be just as it was. Do you?

(Margaret looks sad but does not reply.)

(Michael comes into the ward, carrying a small cup of liquid medicine.)

MICHAEL ARMSTRONG
The sister asked me to make sure you drank this.

(Michael hands the cup to Margaret, who lays it on the end table.)

DAVID
(laying his overcoat back on the bed)
Yeah, well, I'm just going. Bye-bye, then, love.

(He kisses her on the cheek, and they hug.)

DAVID
Take care.

MARGARET
Hey, and...don't you worry so much about things, hey? It'll all be all right again, you'll see.

DAVID
Oh, yeah.
(turning to Michael)
Well, uh...ciao, mate.

(They shake hands.)

DAVID
Maybe see you in Liverpool sometime.

MICHAEL
Maybe.

(David picks up his overcoat again and leaves.)

 

(from "We Could Be a Lot Worse Off" by John Finch)