Scene one

A small coach is making its way through the narrow lanes of the Cornish countryside.

Among the dozens of passengers, two strangers look absently through the window. A young blonde woman, with a newspaper on her lap, seems deep in thought. The man opposite her, late twenties, tall with dark hair and emerald eyes, looks around in recognition of the surrounding places he used to go when he was a child. He eventually sets his eyes on the blonde facing him, who herself had started to look at him with curiosity. At first the young man smiles at the woman, but when her look becomes a stare, he gets nervous, turns his head back to the window, then back to the girl.

Girl: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous."

Man: "That's ok, I get that all the time."

Girl: "Do you?"

Man: " Well, yes. And if you're still wondering, then yes it's me…"

Girl: "I'm sorry?"

Man: " I'm Mark Glasson, from the British Olympic Rowing Team"

Girl: "Oh, sorry, I'm not British, well I mean I am British, I've got a British passport, but I'm not from Britain, so I'm not really… sorry, but I don't know you."

Man: "Oh, I see, it's just that I'm used to people looking at me like you were, trying to make sure it's me before they ask… so why were you looking at me so intensely? "

Girl: "That scar on your face, on your cheek."

Man: "Oh, it's just a rowing accident, while we were disembarking, the guy in front of me was getting scull on his shoulder, a bit too high, and he knocked me out."

Girl: "There is something you could put on the scar to ease it out…"

The two strangers keep talking for the rest of the journey, which ends for both in a little village on the coast, they both get down at the bus stop next to the local pub, The Crab & Lobster.

Mark: " All right, Lysa, thanks for the advice, and good luck! The surgery is this way"

Lysa: " Thanks for the map, Mark, it was nice meeting you."

They both make their way to the opposite side of the harbour, Mark towards the old school, and Lysa towards the surgery.

Scene two

Saturday evening. Sun is setting on Portwenn. Heavenly shades of pink, orange, purple colour the sky and shine through the windows of the local Surgery. Doctor Ellingham is looking, deep in thoughts, towards one of the cottages across the bay. His concentration is disrupted by a noise coming from the road leading up to his house. A young woman, in her mid twenties, is dragging a wheeled sport bag behind her, and seems to be looking for something. She looks at the piece of paper in her hand, and climbs the few steps in front of the surgery. Martin, puzzled, gets closer to the window and awaits. The door bell rings. He opens the window:

Martin: "The Surgery is closed for the week end."

Lysa: "Dr Ellingham?"

Martin: "Yes."

Lysa: "My name is Lysandra . I believe you knew my mother, Cheryl Scott. You met in Brunei in 198…"

Martin: "Yes, I remember her."

Lysa: "I need to speak to you, urgently… Please?"

Martin: "I'm coming."

Martin shuts the window, and quickly makes his way to the front door. He opens the door and looks at the woman in front of him. The doc is at first more interested in the bumpy and rosy skin on her cheeks which reminds him of Rosacea; her blond tousled hair probably makes her look younger than she really is, but the blue eyes that light up her face have something definitely familiar that Martin can not figure out.

Martin: "Please come in. He shows her to the living room You said you wanted to talk to me about your mother. How can I help you two?"

Lysa: "I don't think you can help my mother, Doctor Ellingham, she passed away last month."

Martin: "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Lysa: "On her death bed, though, she admitted something I longed to hear since I was a kid."

Martin: "Yes…"

Lysa: "Who my father was…"

Martin still not seeing where the conversation is going: "Yes…"

Lysa: "You are Doctor Ellingham, former surgeon in London, right?"

Martin: "Yes I am, what has it got to do with your father?"

Lysa: "Well, you… are my father."

Martin looks astounded, his mouth opens, but no sound comes out of it. He quickly comes back to his senses, shuts his mouth and slightly turns his face and frowns.

Lysa: "It took me a while to track you down, with all the different hospitals you worked at, and then you suddenly moving back to Cornwall, but it at least confirmed what my mother said about you being from around here."

Martin: "I'm sorry, can you go back to the part about me being…"

Lysa: "…my father?"

Martin: "Yes. There must…I mean, it is absolutely impossible…Your mother made a mistake…"

Lysa: "I don't think that it was the kind of things she would have mistaken. My mother was a doctor, you're a doctor, you know how these things happen. How can you be so sure you're not my father?"

Martin: "Simply because your mother and I, we never…"

Lysa: "She wouldn't lie to me, especially not on her death bed!"

Martin: "Well it could be somebody else!"

Lysa: "How many men from Cornwall, called Ellingham, were in Brunei in the mid eighties?"

Martin: "I was there with my father…"

Lysa: "Your father? He's a surgeon as well?"

Martin: "He was a surgeon in the Navy. I wanted to take a holiday abroad before starting university so I followed him during the summer. He was posted in the Far East, moving along from port to port. We stayed a few weeks in Madras, Medan, Brunei. That is where we met your mother. Her father was working at the British Embassy, and she was training to be a doctor. They invited us for dinner, they kindly showed us the busy town and markets. But …my father and I fell out, and I decided to come back to London and started studying medicine soon after."

Lysa: "Why did you fall out with your father?"

Martin: "My father is a charmer. He likes being with people, seduce them with long talk and tales of the old Empire. He could mingle with all sorts of people, he'd spent evenings out, drinking in probably insalubrious places, or… other things, not thinking twice about my mother at home or myself."

Lysa: "So when did you leave?"

Martin: "Mid August, I think."

Lysa: "And your father?"

Martin: "Stayed in Brunei for another month if I remember. Obviously it was a long time ago…"

Lysa: "Oh…."

Martin: "When were you born?"

Lysa: "June 26th."

Martin: "Well it rules me out of the equation then."

Lysa: "But not your father…"

Martin: "No…"

Lysa: "So you and I could be brother and sister?"

Martin: "It is a possibility, yes. But until any test has been done, it is only an assumption. We can sort this out next week if you want. It is getting rather late now…"

Lysa:" Yeah I should get going, got to check in at the local b&b."

Martin: "Or, if you want…, you could… stay here… I have a guest room."

Lysa: "Thank you Martin."

Scene Three

Martin and Lysa are in the village, buying fresh fish from the stand next to the pub. Martin turns his head when he hears a familiar laugh, and sees Louisa walking with a tall man by her side, his arm around her shoulder. Martin freezes and his eyes gets dark. Louisa's smile vanishes when she sees the blonde woman being close to Martin.

Martin: "Louisa."

Louisa: " Good morning, Martin!"

Martin: "Er, yes, good morning."

A few seconds pass, and the two other people feel uncomfortable, Lysa looks down, and Mark clears his throat.

Martin: "Oh, er, sorry, Lysa, this is Louisa, and er, Louisa this is Lysa!"

Lysa: "Nice to meet you."

Louisa: " Likewise… Er, Martin this is Mark; Mark, this is Martin, and… Lysa."

Mark reaching out to shake hands: "Martin, nice to meet you, Louisa has told me a lot about you. Lysa, nice to see you again, you must have found your way then?"

Lysa: "Yes, I did, and Martin invited me to stay with him, so that was a bonus as well."

Louisa puzzled and jealous when hearing that the blonde had stayed at Martin's: "You two know each others?"

Lysa: "Mark and I met in the bus yesterday, and he kindly showed me the way to the surgery."

Louisa: "Oh, I see."

Mark: "Yes you know me, always saving a damsel in distress."

The three of them start laughing. Martin has kept silent, but his look has grown darker. His first impression of the man was that he was a bit too familiar with Louisa, and now he was playing the heroic figure in front of her as well.

Mark: "We were going in for a drink, would you like to join us?"

Martin and Louisa look at each other, a bit nervous.

Louisa: "Mark, I don't…"

Lysa: "Sure, I'm up for it, aren't you, Martin?"

Martin: "Er, well, I'm not.."

Lysa: "Come on, just one…"

Martin Looking towards Louisa, the beginning of at smile on his lips: "Er, all right… just one then."

Mark: "Great, first round is on you, Lou!"

Louisa: "Hu? Why's that?"

Martin is not smiling any more, the use of the diminutive of Louisa's name reminding him of Danny, and the instant dislike he had of the man is now growing.