Looking Over: The Edge of Love Page #3

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Coppers used to move you on.

I'll come again, if I may.

Free world.

Keeping those rums to yourself?

We're in danger of breaking a thirst.

I don't melt at the sight of a uniform, that's all.

- Sod it. I don't like nosy parkers.

- It was a civil question.

I could have said,

"Are you after my husband?" But I didn't.

Heartache, that's what I see in a uniform.

I won't love someone

just to have them die on me.

Who's talking about love?

Don't you ever get lonely?

- My work's all I need.

- I used to think I'd be a dancer.

Danced night and day.

I know, you're one of those.

No. No! God!

Not one of those, for God's sake!

Not that I'm averse.

One of the ones

that never got over her first love.

Course I am.

Didn't your mother

teach you any manners?

- All I said...

- You can walk on your own, I know.

Keep your hand on your ha'penny,

that's what my mother taught me.

- I'm not touching you.

- Well, don't look at me either.

Fine.

No, don't do that!

What have you got against me,

Vera Phillips?

You might be dead tomorrow.

Live while you can, live all you can.

- I won't see you again.

- Of course not.

I'd like my torch back.

Please.

Don't let the light out!

Light of your life.

Has to wipe its feet

before it comes back in again.

No!

Cat! Cat!

Little dog needs the toilet.

Go bark somewhere else.

Come on, Catty.

Have you got a poem for me?

You still owe me for the last one.

I am not a sodding deposit box, Dylan.

What do you think this is?

- It could be a scribble!

- Could be.

- It could be a bloody limerick, Dullun!

- Could be.

Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid

Was A Man Aged A Hundred.

- Happy piece, is it?

- Do you want to hear it?

Do you?

Do you want to hear it?

Oh, heavy!

When the morning

was waking over the war

He put on his clothes

and stepped out and he died

The locks yawned loose

as a blast blew them wide

He dropped where he loved

on the burst pavement...

- Lived.

- What?

Lived.

Oh, no, it's loved.

You can't read your own bloody writing.

Lived! Lived!

- Loved!

- He's a hundred sodding years old!

He can't remember love.

The bloody word's only

there because I wrote it!

Dropped where he loved

- on the burst pavement stone

- Shh!

It's mine, isn't it?

What you write.

All my words.

And every heartbeat.

They're all for you.

Me?

Come here, then.

Come on, you!

Get out of bed and come and see

what he's done this time!

Oh, dear. Naughty doggy Dylan.

Do you know what that is?

That's animal behaviour, that's what it is.

Nicolette, I'm...

I'm...

Is Vera Phillips there, please?

- Just a moment.

- Thank you.

- Hello?

- Hello, darling.

- Dylan?

- Course it is.

There was a young hero called Killick

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