sitting on his legs, immobilising him. She switched the Dettol bottle to her right hand, holding it, not upright this time, but almost horizontally
with her thumb over the top. It hovered menacingly above his lower midsection.
'This stuff stings. Don’t it just?’ she said.
Bob laughed involuntarily, taken by surprise. He looked at the bottle, unsure of what would happen next.
'Was that really how you scraped your leg, big boy?’ she said, mock menace in her tone.
The grin stayed on his face. 'Well, no. The truth is, I was at the zoo, and I got too close to the alligator. Naw, that’s not it, I was crossing Princes Street, and I was run over by a bus. Or maybe it was when I tried to jump the food queue in Marks and Spencer.’
'Ok, ok, ok! I give up already.’ She jumped to her feet and put the bottle on the bedside table.
'Now, for God’s sake, get a move on. It’s almost seven and we have to be at the theatre for eight.’
His grin grew wider. 'Exactly. So what’s the rush.’
He reached up and drew her to him.
FOURTEEN
They arrived at the Pleasance theatre complex with only three minutes to spare.
For eleven months of the year, the Pleasance is used by Edinburgh University and its graduates as a leisure and recreational facility, and thus makes little or no impact on the life
of the city. But during August it is transformed into a cosmopolitan centre for the performing arts, throbbing with activity eighteen hours a day. Bars, cafeterias and two theatres are set around a central courtyard filled with benches, chairs, and tables. Around one corner of the cobbled yard, rows of canvas seats are set out, making the area into a third and impromptu
theatre, used by the ragbag of idealists and solo performers who, unable to find or fund a venue, flock to the Fringe regardless, ready to make use of even the crudest stage to further their dreams of glory.
Bob and Sarah saw Alex before she spotted them. Wearing her stage make-up, she stood at the top of the stairway which led into Pleasance Theatre 2. Her eyes scanned the crowd; her arms were folded tight across her chest and her brow was knitted with impatience – and gathering disappointment. Even caught off guard, the girl still looked stunning: tall and slim, with big, round blue eyes and a jumble of long dark hair, shining with natural highlights, which fell around her wide shoulders like a shawl.
As they approached. Bob and Sarah saw her rise on her toes, stretching up to peer as far into the crowd as she could. Then, with a shrug of frustration, she dropped back on to her heels and made as if to turn away.
“Alex!’
At Sarah’s cry, she turned and caught sight of them at last, as they reached the end of a snaking queue of around forty people leading towards and then up the stairway entrance.
'Where have you two been?’ she called down to them. 'I was beginning to feel like I’d been stood up. Listen, when you get in, do me a favour and sit well to the back. I don’t want to be able to see either of you, or catch your eye during the show, in case it makes me freeze. Wish me luck!’
Bob smiled up at her. 'Break a leg, kid, or whatever!’ he shouted. Sarah blew her a kiss. Alex waved to them and disappeared into the theatre.
There were only a few of the steeply tiered seats left when they entered, but they found two in the third row from the back, close to a spotlight. None of the cast would look in that direction for fear of being blinded.
Alexis Skinner was five weeks short of her twenty-first birthday. She was the only child of Bob’s youthful first marriage, which had been cut tragically short by the death of his wife in a simple car accident when Alex was only three years old. She had no clear memory of her mother, and Bob had brought her up virtually alone – with the occasional help of his parents – in the cottage in Gullane, the East Lothian golfing village, where he and Sarah now
shared their off-duty time. Myra, Alex’s dead mother, had left a
with her thumb over the top. It hovered menacingly above his lower midsection.
'This stuff stings. Don’t it just?’ she said.
Bob laughed involuntarily, taken by surprise. He looked at the bottle, unsure of what would happen next.
'Was that really how you scraped your leg, big boy?’ she said, mock menace in her tone.
The grin stayed on his face. 'Well, no. The truth is, I was at the zoo, and I got too close to the alligator. Naw, that’s not it, I was crossing Princes Street, and I was run over by a bus. Or maybe it was when I tried to jump the food queue in Marks and Spencer.’
'Ok, ok, ok! I give up already.’ She jumped to her feet and put the bottle on the bedside table.
'Now, for God’s sake, get a move on. It’s almost seven and we have to be at the theatre for eight.’
His grin grew wider. 'Exactly. So what’s the rush.’
He reached up and drew her to him.
FOURTEEN
They arrived at the Pleasance theatre complex with only three minutes to spare.
For eleven months of the year, the Pleasance is used by Edinburgh University and its graduates as a leisure and recreational facility, and thus makes little or no impact on the life
of the city. But during August it is transformed into a cosmopolitan centre for the performing arts, throbbing with activity eighteen hours a day. Bars, cafeterias and two theatres are set around a central courtyard filled with benches, chairs, and tables. Around one corner of the cobbled yard, rows of canvas seats are set out, making the area into a third and impromptu
theatre, used by the ragbag of idealists and solo performers who, unable to find or fund a venue, flock to the Fringe regardless, ready to make use of even the crudest stage to further their dreams of glory.
Bob and Sarah saw Alex before she spotted them. Wearing her stage make-up, she stood at the top of the stairway which led into Pleasance Theatre 2. Her eyes scanned the crowd; her arms were folded tight across her chest and her brow was knitted with impatience – and gathering disappointment. Even caught off guard, the girl still looked stunning: tall and slim, with big, round blue eyes and a jumble of long dark hair, shining with natural highlights, which fell around her wide shoulders like a shawl.
As they approached. Bob and Sarah saw her rise on her toes, stretching up to peer as far into the crowd as she could. Then, with a shrug of frustration, she dropped back on to her heels and made as if to turn away.
“Alex!’
At Sarah’s cry, she turned and caught sight of them at last, as they reached the end of a snaking queue of around forty people leading towards and then up the stairway entrance.
'Where have you two been?’ she called down to them. 'I was beginning to feel like I’d been stood up. Listen, when you get in, do me a favour and sit well to the back. I don’t want to be able to see either of you, or catch your eye during the show, in case it makes me freeze. Wish me luck!’
Bob smiled up at her. 'Break a leg, kid, or whatever!’ he shouted. Sarah blew her a kiss. Alex waved to them and disappeared into the theatre.
There were only a few of the steeply tiered seats left when they entered, but they found two in the third row from the back, close to a spotlight. None of the cast would look in that direction for fear of being blinded.
Alexis Skinner was five weeks short of her twenty-first birthday. She was the only child of Bob’s youthful first marriage, which had been cut tragically short by the death of his wife in a simple car accident when Alex was only three years old. She had no clear memory of her mother, and Bob had brought her up virtually alone – with the occasional help of his parents – in the cottage in Gullane, the East Lothian golfing village, where he and Sarah now
shared their off-duty time. Myra, Alex’s dead mother, had left a
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