On a cold January evening, a man is standing in an archway, one of many on the pavement outside a bookstore overlooked by Nelson's Column at the corner of The Strand and Trafalgar Square.
Our man is wearing a suit and tie, and a heavy overcoat because of the cold. Time has passed since he arrived at around 5 o'clock that Thursday evening, and there has been a continuous stream of passers-by, mainly office workers heading home at the end of their working day. The man's eye has been fixed on the entrance to an office 20 or 30 yards further up the Strand. There is an intensity about his expression which reveals that he has his mind set on a certain course of action, right or wrong. He has been tempted to give up a number of times, shifting from foot to foot to keep warm while keeping his gaze on his target.
He looks at his watch intermittently. By 7.30, much of the pedestrian traffic has died down, it is too early in the year for many tourists milling around Trafalgar Square.
The man draws a quick intake of breath as out of the door in question emerges a woman, like all the other pedestrians, intent on getting home. Dark haired, she too is wrapped up in scarves and a dark green coat, under which are trousers and sensible shoes. She heads directly for the entrance to the London Underground which ultimately leads to Charing Cross, but initially is made up of a set of 20 or 30 stairs down to an underground passage which crosses the Strand to other stairs which lead up to the pavement as well as a tunnel which leads to the trains.
The man steps out from the cloisters and moves towards the lady. She sees him coming and shock and fright register on her face.
He opens his account:
“Hello"
“What are you doing here? Have you been waiting for me?" She carries on towards the stairs, and descends, clearly in shock.
"I just wanted to have a few minutes…I just wanted to say something to you" He follows, a few stairs behind.
“Leave me alone" – her tone is increasingly distressed.
“Please, I just want a minute…” His tone is increasing in intensity, he is pleading.
By this stage the pair, and that is obviously an inaccurate word in the circumstances, have descended into the underground passage and almost crossed the Strand, he is pursuing her and she is clearly looking for ways to get away. The lady abruptly turns around and starts to hurry back to the safety of her office and the security and comfort that her colleagues offer.
“Leave me alone!”
As they reach the bottom of the steps again, the man lightly places the back of his left hand on the lady’s right upper arm, a touch with no particular strength but a touch nevertheless.
"Don't touch me!"
"I won't touch you"
She visibly shudders, and rushes up the stairs that she has just descended. He stays where he is.
As she reaches the top of the stairs, in an anguished fashion" he shouts up the stairs, "I'm in love with you”.
She shudders again.
"Oh God” she moans. He stands at the bottom of the stairs while she disappears from sight. After a short pause, he bounds up the stairs, two steps at a time. By the time he reaches the top of the stairs she's gone.
He stands there, trembling with the emotion of the moment and stupefied by the response. After a moment, he slowly walks away back down to the underground.
Half an hour later, he walks into his own apartment. It is on the top floor of an old block which has one of these old lifts with manual doors. The apartment has outdated carpets and decor, but spectacular views over London from the windows.
He walks along a short corridor and into a living room. There is a girl there, very pretty, blonde, watching TV and eating dinner. She has a soft Irish accent and they obviously get on.
He sits down on a sofa and slumps down. He empties the right coat pocket that was the object of his fidgeting hand earlier in the evening, pulling out a small item wrapped in tissue which is flicked on to the low coffee table with a tinkle.
"Wow, Dick!" the item in the tissue is revealed as a diamond ring with three main stones which is overall of sufficient size to prompt the girl's response.
"Who's that for?" she asks. As far as she knows, her flatmate has no girlfriend, and hasn’t taken a girl out for months.
"She didn't want it". He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. After a while, “I’m going to have a bath.”
He goes further along the corridor, and into the bathroom. The décor is similarly dated and poorly equipped. He starts running a bath, goes into the kitchen next door. He rolls a joint.
His last act is to climb into the bath, tears running down his face.
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Hurt and Harassment is an episodic comedy drama showing how far two people can fall out through uncorrected misunderstandings and disappointed expectations.
There are two principal characters, two supporting actors and a number of extras. The action visits many well known landmarks in London, in Paris, and ends where the story begins.
Interested readers will be able to experience the story in real time, and will be able to express their views of the rights and wrongs of the actions of the characters.
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