HOME OF THE BRAVE

ACT II

Still rubbing his eyes, Winston shuffles into the kitchen, to find a morose-faced Kurtis sitting at the table, staring at the empty jar in front of him as if he were trying to make it fill up by sheer force of will.

"You're up early, Sir."

"So I am," Kurtis grunts. "And it's Kurtis, man. Plain Kurtis."

"Would you care for a nice cup of tea?"

"No. I'd care for a nice cup of coffee, but there's none left."

Winston clucks sympathetically. "She's not buying any until you've worked up the cost of replacing that windowpane."

"It wasn't even me who shot it."

"You ought to be glad she shot the window and not you, Sir. Er, Kurtis."

"Yeah, and I was standing right behind it. How come you Brits are believed to have a great sense of humour? She certainly don't have one…" Kurtis scowls at the jar and stirs on his chair. "Damn. My back is killin' me…"

Winston decides not to comment on this topic, since he knows why the American's been spending the last few nights on the library couch.

"Winston… Can I borrow a couple of bucks from you?"

"You owe me seventy six pounds already."

"Seventy six?! It was only sixty nine yesterday!"

"Yes. Before you added…" Winston searches the pockets of his dressing gown for the incriminating piece of evidence, "...'Fags' on the groceries list."

"Fags are only six pounds!"

"The additional pound is for not telling her you'd done so," Winston reminds him.

"Man, you're ten times worse than her." Pushing back his chair, Kurtis gets up and heads for the door, shaking his head.

"Mr. Tr… Kurtis. There's something you could do. To gain back her favor…"

"And that'd be?" a suspicious Kurtis asks, throwing the butler a wary look over his shoulder.

"You could get up on the roof and clean the eaves, for example. They're badly clogged."

"I'm scared of heights."

"From the west wing roof, it's only a short drop to her balcony…" Winston muses, stirring milk into his mug and smiling shrewdly.

Kurtis frowns, considering this. "She won't let me in through the door, why would she welcome me through the balcony?"

"You could try something romantic. Maybe sing her something."

"A serenade?" Kurtis asks, looking dubious. "Nah, better not. It's only seven thirty."

"Try Shakespeare. She's got a weakness for it. I bet you she'll bite."

"How much?" an eager Kurtis jumps at the idea, his face lighting up with hope.

"A fiver. And I'll throw in a jar of Maxwell House on top if she's let you move back into the bedroom by tonight…"

"Deal."

"Come on, then. I'll lend you my tea tray. You know, just in case…"

With a sigh of satisfaction, Lara sinks back into the pillows, spreading the morning paper on top of her legs. She's barely read past the headlines when a sluggish noise on the roof makes her look up. Something that appears to be a rubbish bag full of wet leaves lands with a thud on the balcony, before a pair of feet follow, dangling on the upper half of her window. Her initial surprise is soon replaced by a cunning narrowing of the eyes when he lets himself drop down, missing the rail by inches, and knocking over a flower pot in the process.

"Morning," he says, or rather, shouts, smiling sheepishly on the other side of the glass.

She gives a slight nod, before returning her attention to the paper.

"Your gutters are spot-clean now," he adds, full of hope, gesturing towards the rubbish bag.

"Hmm."

"Am I still in the doghouse?"

"You are on the balcony," she points out, unable to suppress a grin.

"Can I come in? You won't believe some of the stuff I've found up there…"

"No."

Kurtis ponders this briefly, wondering if she means the stuff he's found, or the coming in part. "Please?"

"No."

He scratches his head and looks over the rail at the garden, far below. Way too far below to jump down. He shouldn't have listened to Winston. Shaking his head, he weighs his options. At least, it looks like he's after winning himself five pounds. Fuck the coffee. Thinking of Winston reminds him of something, so he roots through his pockets until coming upon the hurriedly scribbled scrap of paper. He reads quickly through it before straightening in what he hopes is a convincing Laurence Olivier-ish stance.

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun…!"

"Good Grief…" she folds the paper and puts it aside, rolling her eyes.

"Arise, fair sun..." he checks his notes surreptitiously, "...and kill the envious moon..."

"Enough, Kurtis." Surrendering, she gets up and unlocks the balcony door. "You'll never make it to the West End. Give it up." With two jumps she's back on the bed, pulling the covers up quickly.

"Shit, it's freezing. Thanks." He stumbles into the room, shivering. That's so long to the fiver, then. But maybe he'll still get a coffee after all. Slumping on the edge of the bed, he gives the duvet a longing glance. "Can I slide in there as well? I can't feel my toes…"

"No."

She opens the paper again, ignoring his disappointed expression.

"No?"

"No."

"Okay."

He sighs, staring at his hands. No point remarking on what a job it was to shove all those loudspeakers back in place.

"Any chance I could borrow some money off you?"

"What for?" she asks, her eyes never leaving the newspaper.

"Winston wants me to drive down to town and get a few things. I'd pay for them myself, you know, but I have to get to a cash machine first…"

Without comment, she signals to the bedside table's drawer. He quickly retrieves a ten pound note before she changes her mind. "Thanks."

With a last mournful glance at the bed, he gets up and heads for the door. Maybe he could try humming God Save the Queen to improve the mood, but then, it might be not such a good idea to remind her what caused her to lock him out in the first place. "See you later, then."

"And…?" Lara asks, sneaking into the kitchen.

"Nothing yet." Winston whispers back, pointing at the door that leads to the garage. "He's just about to go out."

Together they wait, holding their breath. And are rewarded by a sudden, very loud thump.

"He's fainted."

Winston raises his hand, gesturing her to lower her voice.

"He has," Lara insists, barely able to control her giggles. "Giving that bike a Union Jack paint-job was a terrific idea."

"Thank me no thanks…" Winston winks knowingly, before Kurtis' scream interrupts him.

"AAAGGHHYOUBITCHOUTOFHELL!"

"See? He's not fainted."

"I'd better be off, then," says Lara, hurrying to the door.

"You owe me a fiver," Winston calls after her.

FINIS... for now

"But soft! what light through yonder window breaks?..." and "Thank me no thanks, nor proud me no prouds", from William Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet'

Thanks again to Jordy for all the help, and for making me laugh so much.

And, last but not least... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LARA!