Elaine: Yes, of course I remember the date. I remember the date, the hour, the moment where that man is concerned. He's an old git now, but when I saw him walking up a set of stairs I really was hit by the thunderbolt. I asked my friend: “Who is that guy?” Like Al Pacino, if Al Pacino had been an economics teacher in Edinburgh. Gorgeous, really handsome, dark colouring.

Ooh, it was love at first sight. He didn't notice I was in the room, of course.

Anyway, that night after the meeting we all went off, as teachers inevitably do, to the pub, and I ended up sitting next to Bob. I was full of energy as a new drama teacher, trying to entertain and, yes, impress this crowd of rather po-faced left-wingers with what I thought were some very funny Irish jokes.

Bob said later it was hilarious watching their middle-class, newly politically correct faces not know how to take me. Bob and I kept chatting all the way home, and he came in for a coffee and we talked about politics for two hours.

He was very intense and so was I. And then he shook me by the hand and said: “It was very nice to meet you,” and left. I was raging. But that politeness, that earnestness, it just serves to make people more attractive.

Well, it does to me.

I had been singing in a few bands when I was at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow, but I didn't know people on the Edinburgh music scene and Bob said he'd introduce me to a few people.

For about two years that was it, we were friends. Oh, I didn't like it one bit. There were other girlfriends, we were pals who went out, but never formally in that way. It was a bit torturous for me, to tell you the truth. And the whole time he knew that really I wanted to perform but I was too frightened.

We had a fight once, at the top of Leith Walk, and that changed everything. Everything. He said: “I don't want to know you 10 years from now when it will be, ‘I could have done this, I could have done that, I could have been an actress'. Either do it now or give up on it.” I started writing letters the next day, and suddenly I'd been offered a job in London. I didn't have an Equity card, though, so I wrote to John McGrath and Dave McLennan of 7:84 (theatre group) and they gave me work to get me it. I was in.

Fear had been holding me back, but suddenly I was liberated. I gave up the teaching that I loved for a seven-week contract. And Bob, I think he was a little freaked out at what he'd done. He could see that I was maybe about to go on and have another kind of life, maybe even one without him.

Bob: She was very young when I met her, only 22. The left in Edinburgh at the time was a real mess, and here came Elaine, a breath of fresh air, this vibrant, colourful person. She was a wonderful teacher, but then she has tremendous ability to do whatever she sets her mind to. She's a doer, that's the bottom line. Me, I amble from situation to situation.

I could have been a teacher forever, stayed one of the boys, but I was never committed to it.

When our daughter Katie came along we had decisions to make. One of us had to be at home with her, we knew that was how we wanted it. So I started producing shows for people such as Dorothy Paul, booking venues and striking deals with little Katie on my lap, praying she wouldn't make too much noise while I was doing my businessman bit.

Elaine often says that I made sacrifices for her career, and that she's grateful for it, but it cuts both ways. The sleep deprivation isn't great fun, but for a man to spend time with his children is a great privilege. I adore my girls - if anything I miss not spending as much time with them now that they're growing up.

Because I produce Elaine's shows - we're doing The Rise and Fall of Little Voice at the moment, she's a fabulous monster as Mari Hoff - people are curious about our working relationship. My job is to assist the talent rather than guide it, but Elaine listens to what I say, because she knows I try to remain objective. Elaine's in the public eye in Scotland, which means people say a lot of nice things, but I'm her husband, I need to be solid and help her to be Mrs Morton when she needs to be. She only ever uses that name when she's ringing plumbers, though.

The truth is, she takes my breath away to this day. She works so hard, cares so much. If I try to suggest she takes it easy, she doesn't know what I'm talking about. Elaine's what we call in Scotland a turn. That's someone who can do it all, singing, dancing, writing, comedy, acting, whatever they're called upon to do, and Smithy qualifies for that role. There's insecurity there, and ego, but she has such courage.

You think it's brave to climb a mountain? How about going out on your own in front of an audience of 2,000 paying people for two hours, knowing you have to take them all with you? Knowing that the mike might fail, the lights might go down, knowing that everyone is relying on you to make it all work? That's courage, folks. How can I not be amazed by her?

Smith, 49, and Morton, 56, have two daughters, Katie, 19, and Hannah, 13.The Rise and Fall of Little Voice is at the Perth Theatre until March 29 and then touring until May 31.

The Two Of Us

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