NARRATOR
Back at the bedside Charles sits with his dead father.
Door opening, footsteps.
HARRIET
Hello, Charles.
CHARLES
Do you die from pneumonia?
NARRATOR
Charles looks at his sister and she snaps him, a two-shot with the corpse.
Digital click of mobile phone camera.
NARRATOR
Charles lays his head on the bed and finds his forehead is resting against something hard.
He feels under the bedclothes and brings out an empty bottle.
HARRIET
(knowingly)
What did you expect?
SCENE 5: INT. HOUSE
Bottle clinking into sack of other bottles.
NARRATOR
Charles and Harriet go through the house.
CHARLES
Here’s one.
HARRIET
Here’s another.
CHARLES
Mum never knew.
HARRIET
(sceptically)
Umm …
SHED
She didn’t.
SCENE 6: GARDEN
Birdsong, creaking door of shed, footsteps, unscrewing of bottle etc., to accompany narration.
NARRATOR
Charles and Harriet take their finds to the garden hut where they find more bottles and put them in the sack. As they are leaving Harriet spots three or four gin bottles on a shelf. She is about to put them in the sack too when Charles opens one and sniffs it.
CHARLES
No. Weedkiller.
NARRATOR
And he puts the bottles back on the shelf.
Bottle back on shelf. Creaky door of shed opens and they leave.
SCENE 7: GARDEN/GARDEN SHED
French windows opening,
NARRATOR
Meanwhile George and Gwen are on the same trail.
GEORGE
Coast clear.
Footsteps on gravel.
NARRATOR
Gwen reaches into a bird house and gets a bottle out, handing it to George. They go on up the garden to the shed.
GWEN
The children must never know –
Creaky door of shed opening.
He was happiest here.
Aerosol spray, bottles to accompany dialogue.
NARRATOR
She picks up a plastic garden spray and idly squirts some, smells it, then wordlessly hands it to George, who puts it with the rest.
GEORGE
Some good stuff here. No sense wasting it. Never know. Rainy day.
GWEN
Yes, there are more gin bottles here on the shelf. Bless.
NARRATOR
She hands them to George, who just checks that they have liquid in them without checking what that liquid is, and puts them with the other bottles in the shed cupboard against the rainy day.
Creaky door of shed opening. They leave.
GWEN
I did love him, George.
GEORGE
Of course you did, my dear.
Panting Labrador comes up to them. Gwen pats dog.
GWEN
Poor Whisky.
Music.
SCENE 8: SITTING ROOM
Music starts to fade out.
NARRATOR
It’s evening. In the sitting room Gwen and George are looking at books, strewn across the table. Harriet is doing her homework. Charles is stretched out on the sofa ostentatiously taking no interest.
GEORGE
Tennyson?
GWEN
Oh yes, Tennyson! Tennyson, children!
CHARLES
Why?
GEORGE
I love Tennyson.
CHARLES
It’s not you, it’s him.
HARRIET
In which case why not the Stock Market report?
Pause.
GEORGE
I never knew you loved Tennyson.
GWEN
Oh yes, I’ve always loved Tennyson.
‘I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils.’
She gives a little sob.
HARRIET
That’s Wordsworth.
GWEN
CHARLES
That doesn’t entitle you to play ducks and drakes with The Oxford Book of English Verse.
GEORGE
As a veteran of several of these occasions, take it from me you can’t go far wrong with Shakespeare.
GWEN
Oh yes! A sonnet, say.
CHARLES
The sonnets are homosexual.
HARRIET
Actually some are and some aren’t. Miss McArthur thinks it would be wise to reserve judgement.
GWEN
Perhaps you could ask Miss McArthur for one of the respectable ones. Or George could ask Mr Nightingale.
CHARLES
Birdie? Why should a bank manager know which of Shakespeare’s sonnets are homosexual?
GWEN
(vaguely)
Oh, I don’t know. They have computers.
GEORGE
We lack ceremony. There is no decent way nowadays of saying to the dead, farewell. Know what I mean? It’s all in the melting pot.
Gwen suddenly bursts into tears.
GEORGE
My dear.
GWEN
It’s with you saying melting pot. Cremation was what he wanted, you’re sure?
GEORGE
(as he leaves)
Cherish her, Charles. (To Gwen.) Goodbye, my dear. Keep your pecker up.
Door opening.
Cherish her.
Gwen and George leave the room, George leaves the house.
CHARLES
This Miss McArthur. Do you fancy her?
HARRIET
Up to a point. It’s only a stage I’m going through.
Door opening. Gwen returns.
GWEN
We’ll have to give people something to eat. Grief always makes people ravenous. And I could make a cup of some sort. I can dip into my quiche store.
CHARLES
I think if I have to eat another wedge of quiche I will take a red hot spoon and force it slowly up the nostrils of the woman who made it.
GWEN
Well, I don’t care much for cheese and onion.
HARRIET
I can do a nice spinach.
CHARLES
Dad hated spinach.
GWEN
That doesn’t matter, dear, surely?
CHARLES
If we have to have a poem he liked why should we have a quiche he disliked?
GWEN
That is a point. I should have asked George. Perhaps I’ll call him, later on.
Music.
SCENE 9: SITTING ROOM
NARRATOR
Charles sits waiting, in the drawing room, dressed in a grey suit and black tie, but with white trainers.
Door opening.
George comes through, obviously masterminding the proceedings. He notices Charles’s trainers.
GEORGE
Wouldn’t wear those, honestly old son. Black’s more the norm.
SCENE 10: BEDROOM
Brushing hair.
NARRATOR
Gwen is brushing her hair in front of the mirror.
She takes off her negligee to reveal she is dressed in black slip, bra and panties.
Door opening, footsteps.
HARRIET
Is black right?
GWEN
Oh. I thought it was.
SCENE 11: INT. CAR
Sound of funeral car engine.
HARRIET
What I’ve never understood about funerals is why people hold on to these straps as they invariably do. It isn’t as if it’s a bumpy ride, yet pe
ople cling on. For dear life, I suppose.
A passing car with election loudspeaker on the roof passes, garbling electionese.
GWEN
George should have come in this car.
CHARLES
No he shouldn’t. George isn’t family.
Sound of a passing loudspeaker van.
CANVASSER
It’s time to make a new start. Time for the people to make their voice heard. Vote Ryecroft to get things moving.
SCENE 12: CHURCH PORCH
Sombre church bell tolls.
NARRATOR
In the porch of the church two tellers, a man and a woman, take the names of those going in. A mourner enters.
Footsteps on stone flags.
MOURNER 1
A.S. Hopton representing Frobisher, Rendell and Ross.
More footsteps passing through.
NARRATOR
As the woman takes down his name, some wreaths are carried in. One in the shape of a pound sign.
Footsteps coming to a stop.
ROGERS
Rogers.
GILLIATT
Gilliatt.
WOMAN
Representing anybody?
ROGERS
Just our good selves.
Bell fades out.
SCENE 13: INT. CHURCH
NARRATOR
The family sit in the front pews, Gwen, Charles and Harriet; George; Mr Nightingale, Nicola his daughter and Gary his son, who is in army uniform, sit behind. The church is crowded. The coffin stands on the chancel steps. A youngish clergyman addresses the congregation.
VICAR
We are gathered here today to say farewell to our friend Frank Davenport. I didn’t know Frank, but I gather God was not his strong point, so I’ve kept the form of service pretty loose in the hope there’ll be something here to suit all tastes. Someone who did know Frank was his chaplain in the army, Canon Everest.
CANON EVEREST
Dear, dear hearts. And Frank. Because he’s here. Not here in the coffin. (He slaps the coffin.) Knock knock. (He knocks on the coffin.) Who’s there? Not Frank. Oh no. But he’s here in our hearts. (He slaps his chest.) And here. And here. In my heart, young man. In yours, young lady. Yours and yours and yours. Oh yes, in all our hearts, Frank.
Canon Everest’s halting footsteps down the aisle and sound of him slapping those nearest in the congregation on the back.
I can’t preach. I can’t. Not for Frank. Oh come off it, padre, he’d say. We know the score. Had a good innings. Time’s up. Come in, No. 17. So long, Frank. Let’s thank God. Let’s thank God for his plucky little wife. Let’s thank God she’s got someone like George to lean on. Let’s thank God Frank had a fine son, Charles, who’s going to be every bit the man his father was. Not forgetting Harriet, that little bundle of mischief. Dear man. You wouldn’t like me blubbing, but forgive me, old son, if I brush away something that looks suspiciously like a tear. Because damn and blast you, Frank, we shall miss you, you old reprobate. Nuff said. Sit down, padre.
Congregation rise and a hymn (‘Abide With Me’) is begun which fades away.
SCENE 14: INT. CHURCH
VICAR
Now before we go our separate ways and take up once more the burden of our particular lives, shall we sit for a moment and remember the life and work of Frank Davenport. And if anyone has a memory or thought of Frank they would like to share, please do.
CANON EVEREST
That’s right. Anybody wants to put their spoke in. ‘Frank as I knew him’ type thing, go ahead. Floor’s open.
Coughing. Finally a member of the congregation stands.
MOURNER 1
(mumble, mumble)
I remember him in those desperate days of Arnhem.
CANON EVEREST
Can’t hear.
MOURNER 1
Arnhem.
CANON EVEREST
Where? Farnham?
MOURNER 1
Arnhem.
CANON EVEREST
Still can’t hear. Dead loss.
Nightingale stands up.
NIGHTINGALE
I was Frank’s bank manager, Birdie, for my sins. No easy task and knowing old Frank I’m sure I’m not telling any tales when I say he was more often in the red than out of it. Still, no skin off our nose … That’s how we banks make our money … we do have to make money, people often forget that. Though in fact the profits from private depositors are actually rather small. Most of our income comes in the form of investment.
CANON EVEREST
(impatiently)
Yes, yes, Birdie. Quite so.
NIGHTINGALE
What I’d like to say is that I’m very sorry, and the bank is very sorry. Overdraft or no overdraft. It’s a personal sympathy because I was a personal friend, but at a time like this a bank manager can offer more than sympathy. He can offer all the back-up facilities of a great institution.
CANON EVEREST
Jolly good.
Congregation rises and hymn (‘Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory’) begins.
SCENE 15: DOWNSTAIRS ROOMS
Hymn fades into general hubbub of talking.
GEORGE
I thought that was very civilised.
GWEN
Can I replenish you?
Drink being poured into glass.
CANON EVEREST
Splendid turn out. Place packed to the gills. It was always a three-line whip where Frank was concerned.
GEORGE
(to someone else)
Is there a sense in which your glass is empty?
GWEN
(to Rogers and Gilliatt)
It was so good of you both to come.
GILLIATT
No. No. The more the merrier.
ROGERS
All hands to the pumps.
GWEN
Charles’s chums.
GEORGE
Jolly good. Swell the ranks. Oxford?
ROGERS
Cambridge.
GEORGE
Sad business. Sterling chap. Plucky lady. Up till two a.m. buttering bridge rolls. Deserves a medal. Still, correct me if I’m wrong, life has to go on.
GILLIATT
Absolutely.
ROGERS
Onwards and upwards.
GEORGE
One day at a time.
ROGERS
Was he your first husband?
GWEN
(weeping)
Yes.
GEORGE
Let it come, old girl. Better out than in.
GWEN
I’ll be all right.
GEORGE
That’s the spirit.
GWEN
Now. Have I got this right? You’re Rogers. He’s Gilliatt.
ROGERS
No. I’m Rogers. He’s Gilliatt.
GEORGE
The boy, your chum, Charles. World of his own right now. Can’t reach him. Dad’s dead, true. But dads do die. That’s show business. No need to go overboard. He’s going round with a face like the cat’s bottom. Pretty poor when you consider that Missus Widow Lady is turning in such an award-winning performance. Do me a favour. See if you can’t lodge a hand grenade up his rectum. Jolly him up a bit.
GWEN
What George means is, take him under your wing a fraction.
GEORGE
He’s young. I have this vision of us playing badminton together.
ROGERS
Message received and understood.
GILLIATT
(moving off)
Over and out
GEORGE
Are they nancies?
GWEN
I don’t know. They’re very well-mannered.
NARRATOR
Rogers and Gilliatt thread their way across the room. Nicola, Nightingale’s daughter, is helping with the food, moving round with a tray.
ROGERS
And who are we?
NICOLA
I’m nobody.
GARY
Nobody? Don’t talk like that. You’re my sister.
GILLIATT
(sotto voce)
She the one who’s in and out of the bin?
NARRATOR
Harriet takes a glass of punch and goes up to Gary.
GARY
Should you be having that?
HARRIET
No. You killed anybody yet, Gary?
GARY
No. We aren’t there to kill people. We’re there to stop people killing each other.
HARRIET
When you do kill somebody will you drop me a postcard?
GARY
No.
HARRIET
Why? We’re supposed to take an interest in current affairs. Miss McArthur says it has all the features of a classic colonial war.
Hubbub of conversation.
NARRATOR
Nightingale, Gary’s father, comes up behind him and Harriet and puts his arms round them both, his hand slightly too close to Harriet’s bum, and saying for the benefit of Gwen and George …
NIGHTINGALE
The children! The children! This is where the future lies!
GWEN
Dear Birdie!
Hubbub of conversation.
NARRATOR
Rogers and Gilliatt now home in on Charles.
ROGERS
Cheer up. It may never happen.
CHARLES
You forget. It already has.
ROGERS
I lost my father.
GILLIATT
I lost my mother.
ROGERS
You do get over it.
GILLIATT
I never got over it.
CHARLES
I can’t get it up.
ROGERS
Who with?
CHARLES
Anybody.
GILLIATT
In particular?
CHARLES
No, just as a general principle. In the abstract. Under laboratory conditions. I can’t get it up.
ROGERS
Did you get on well?
CHARLES
Who?
ROGERS
You and your dad.
CHARLES
On and off.
ROGERS
So it’s guilt.
GILLIATT
Oh, guilt. I invented it.
ROGERS
We’ve been given a brief to cheer you up. Fancy an evening out? Entertainment laid on?
CHARLES
Sex?
GILLIATT
Art …
Charles groans.
ROGERS
They come round and do plays in the home. Art in familiar surroundings.
GILLIATT
We’re going to see them doing Streetcar next week.
ROGERS
Tennessee Williams.
CHARLES
I hate the theatre.
GILLIATT
Oh, so do they!
ROGERS
They’re terrible.
GILLIATT
You’ll love it.
ROGERS
He’s got a new joke. Tell him your joke.
GILLIATT