The Two of Us [antikvár]

Prologue 3 September 2000 Walking in our field. A soft mist of rain. The sun shining behind the drizzle. A rainbow forms across the sky behind me. It reflects in the raindrops on grass and trees. Millions of multicoloured baubles, iridescent, extraordinary. John, quick, come and look. Racing back over the wooden bridge, into the conservatory, I toss aside his script, grab his hand and pull him, limping and protesting, to my magic vision. It's gone. Oh, great. Miserable wet trees, pissing rain and soaking wet trouser legs - thanks a bunch. But it was beautiful. Well, you daft cow, why didn't you stay and enjoy it? I couldn't enjoy it properly without you. Oh, come 'ere, Diddle-oh. Arms pulling me tight, hands on bum, wet faces nuzzling, laughing. An aging man and woman, happy in a wet field. You should have known it wouldn't last, kid. He meant the rainbow.