VICAR
The parish council will be delighted.
BECK
Though what he’s not saying is that you’d get considerably more than that if they didn’t take ten per cent for the privilege of selling it for you.
VICAR
Oh. Is that so?
BECK
Not to mention the ten per cent they take from whoever buys it. May I?
Beck tries to take the framed drawing but Cresswell snatches at it.
CRESSWELL
No.
The drawing falls to the floor.
BECK
That was his fault, did you see?
VICAR
Well, I don’t know.
BECK
Of course it was, you old fool.
Cresswell signals for help.
CRESSWELL
I do apologise.
The Vicar picks it up.
VICAR
The glass is broken.
BECK
What does it matter? It’s rubbish. Trash. And even if it weren’t rubbish it would still be trash because it’s English. They don’t produce artists, they produce decorators. Rowlandson, Cruickshank. Dreck. This place exists to elevate the second-rate. A temple to the second-rate.
Veronica arrives with Beck’s photograph as all this is going on.
Second-rate is the customers, second-rate is the art, second-rate is the staff.
The Commissionaire has appeared and takes Beck’s arm.
Take your hands off me.
The Commissionaire propels him towards the door.
Hat. I have, where is it?
Cresswell thrusts him his hat.
Rag I may lose, hat no. Stick? And photograph.
Beck snatches it from Veronica.
Rubbish this? What did he say? Rubbish? Yes? No. This is not rubbish. But you don’t know. None of you know.
Ranting and raving Beck is bundled out of the room. Moberley coming in sees this expulsion.
Cresswell signals for Chris.
CRESSWELL
Huggins. Get this swept up.
CHRIS
I’ll get this swept up, sir.
CRESSWELL
I do apologise …
VICAR
He wasn’t English. I knew that as soon as he opened his mouth.
Chris leaves the valuation department to get a broom, and this takes him near the front door of Garrard’s.
EXT. GARRARD’S – DAY
The Commissionaire is pushing Beck out and we see Steiner still standing in the doorway, waiting for his car. Norman has the car ready and is about to get in, sees Beck coming out. As Beck walks up the street Steiner indicates ‘Catch you later’ to Norman and goes after Beck.
EXT. LONDON STREET GALLERY WINDOW – DAY
Beck stares into the window of a nearby gallery. Vaguely reflected behind him we see Steiner.
INT. GARRARD’S, VALUATION DEPARTMENT – DAY
Chris is sweeping up the glass. Among the debris on the floor, he sees a billfold and finds that it is a bus pass with a photograph of Beck. He is about to approach Cresswell with it.
CRESSWELL
Yes?
CHRIS
Finished sweeping up, sir. (He puts the pass in his pocket.)
INT. CITY SQUASH CLUB – NIGHT
Chris is meeting one of the younger partners whom we have seen in the board meeting, Dunlop. Ollie watches from a gallery.
Marryatt-Smith is playing one of the other partners on an adjacent court.
Chris and Dunlop rest before the final game.
DUNLOP
Where’d you learn to play squash, Huggins? School?
CHRIS
No.
DUNLOP
Wasn’t it a squash school?
CHRIS
I learned down the Sports Centre.
DUNLOP
You’re quite good.
CHRIS
No. But I’m going to thrash you.
DUNLOP
You’re not supposed to say that, Huggins. It’s known as sportsmanship. Did they not teach you that at the Sports Centre?
CHRIS
No. All they said was that squash is good because there’s no fucking about.
We wait long enough to see Chris win the next point and it’s plain he is going to thrash Dunlop.
INT. SQUASH CLUB LOCKER ROOM – NIGHT
Ollie marks up the squash ladder on the noticeboard as Chris is changing. Marryatt-Smith comes through with Grigg, one of the partners.
OLLIE
Who won, sir?
Marryatt-Smith’s attempt at a modest smile indicates that he has.
MARRYATT-SMITH
There’s no need to call me sir here, Barnes. This is sport, not work.
Yes, sir. Yes.
Marryatt-Smith and Grigg go on into the locker room where Chris is changing and Dunlop is in the shower.
MARRYATT-SMITH
(to Dunlop)
Success? Oh dear. So much for Printed Books. I can see we shall have to look to our laurels.
Chris, who is changing on the other side of the bank of lockers with Ollie waiting, makes a wanking gesture towards the invisible Marryatt-Smith.
Chris now transfers his money from his locker to his pocket, comes across the leather wallet he has picked up in the valuation department. He looks more closely at it, and going through it finds a five-pound note and the photograph of a girl. He looks at the photograph of the girl, unseen by Ollie. He locks his kit in his locker and they leave.
EXT. CITY SQUASH CLUB – NIGHT
Chris is pushing his bike with Ollie walking beside him. Chris stops.
CHRIS
I’m going to have to v.s. on the pizza.
OLLIE
Why? I’ve waited.
CHRIS
I’m shattered.
OLLIE
You’re not shattered.
They walk on, Ollie moody and silent.
It’s sex, isn’t it?
CHRIS
Why should it always be sex?
OLLIE
You tell me.
He gets on his bike and begins to ride off.
Chris!
CHRIS
(shouting back)
And anyway, why shouldn’t it always be sex?
Ollie’s miserable face.
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET, BECK’S HOUSE – NIGHT
A street of semi-detached suburban houses, one more unkempt than the others. Chris checks from the bus pass that this is the house.
EXT. BECK’S HOUSE – NIGHT
BECK
(out of view)
So put it through the letterbox.
CHRIS
I’m not the one you had the row with. (Pause.) I think he’s a prick personally.
Beck opens the door cautiously.
INT. BECK’SHOUSE – NIGHT
The house is dark and the pictures that cover every surface make it darker. There are pictures everywhere, stacked against the walls, folios piled on chairs.
BECK
(checking the wallet)
The money too. Here.
He offers Chris a coin. Chris refuses.
Take, take. People offer you money, young man, you take.
Chris shrugs, looking round for any sign of the girl. There is a sound upstairs. Chris looks. Beck says nothing
So. What is your function in that terrible organisation? Garrard’s.
CHRIS
Oh. I’m just a porter. Point A to Point B type of thing.
BECK
There is hope for you then. Come, I’ll show you my collection.
He takes a large torch.
CHRIS
I know nothing about pictures.
BECK
So. You know more than they do. You have the honest ignorance. They have the expert foolishness.
Beck takes him on a tour. As he shines the torch on his prized possessions he scans Chris’s face for any sig
n of disbelief in his attributions. Chris is bored.
Another Rembrandt.
CHRIS
That’s three.
BECK
Four.
CHRIS
You seen ours?
BECK
Dreck. Doesn’t compare. Look at the flesh tones. Look at the brushwork … who else could it be? Do you know what Garrard’s said it was? Nineteenth century. Nineteenth century!
CHRIS
No!
BECK
Dürer. I can tell you, the National Gallery has none. The Queen has one. I have two.
CHRIS
I bet she’s kicking herself.
BECK
Hals. Do you know how much? A sale at Bury St Edmunds. All the London dealers were there. Agnews, Wildenstein. Colnaghi. Nobody spotted it. I have bought this picture for £40 only. (With another picture.) A small country sale in Suffolk. Job lot. Three pictures. £70. Two Palmers and a Holbein.
CHRIS
They saw you coming.
BECK
What?
CHRIS
Joke. No they’re great. Great. Is it luck, Mr Beck?
BECK
That’s just what I never had, luck. This is my luck. (Tapping his eye.) And this. (His head.)
CHRIS
(yawning)
Yeah. Then there’s charm, of course.
They are now upstairs and go into a bedroom. In the room the Girl is sitting sewing, Beck ignores her and shows Chris another picture.
BECK
De La Tour.
The scene itself, a low light shining up on the Girl, is not unlike de La Tour.
Chris steals a look at the Girl but she gives no hint of what she is thinking.
CHRIS
Hi!
She says nothing.
INT. BECK’S HOUSE FRONT ROOM NIGHT
Chris is sitting in the front room. Beck still showing him treasures when the telephone rings. Beck talks to the caller, whoever it is, in Russian, and it swiftly turns into an argument. The Girl comes in and listens. When he has slammed the phone down there is another exchange between them in Hungarian; he shouts at her and she goes out.
BECK
I am the worst enemy of myself. They say to me, sell, sell! Test the market, they say. Sell a Rembrandt. Meaning they want to see if anyone else thinks it’s a Rembrandt. I say sure, sell it. Only put a reserve on it. Two million pounds. You’re crazy, they say. I say if it is a Rembrandt, I am crazy. It’s worth ten times that.
CHRIS
I hope you’re insured, Mr Beck,
BECK
You don’t believe me, do you?
CHRIS
Why not? They all look fine to me.
BECK
Nobody does. Well I’ll show you something.
The Girl has come in with a tray of coffee. Maybe she is older than she seemed in the bedroom, and certainly older than in the photograph. Chris can’t quite see.
BECK
Did you just make this coffee?
She nods.
It’s cold. I say to Mr Marryatt-Smith: who are you? I tell you who you are. A gentleman. A Mickey Mouse.
Beck is getting a parcel out of the drawer.
CHRIS
I’ve got to go soon.
While Beck’s back is turned the Girl suddenly touches Chris’s hand, and whispers:
GIRL
Believe. Pretend.
BECK
What did you say?
GIRL
Nothing.
BECK
You spoke to him.
GIRL
No.
Beck says something to her in Russian. She replies angrily.
Beck takes off the brown paper and opens a folder of drawings and takes out the Study of Hands we have seen in the photograph at Garrard’s. He shows it to Chris, but doesn’t let him hold it.
BECK
You don’t know what you are looking at, do you?
Chris looks at him, then at the Girl.
Beck reaches for a volume on Michelangelo, the same volume we have seen in Marryatt-Smith’s office. In doing so Beck staggers and holds his chest.
GIRL
(in Hungarian)
Are you all right?
BECK
(in Hungarian)
It’s nothing.
Chris tries to help but he brushes him away.
GIRL
It’s all right.
She helps Beck next door and Chris is left alone. He touches the drawing, a version of the hand he has touched on the Sistine ceiling, though without realising the connection. He opens the album of photographs, then, looking round to see the Girl is still busy next door, slips the photograph of the drawing out of the album. He hides this under his jacket, then suddenly and more frantically he removes the drawing from its folder, opens his bag, takes a copy of Time Out (or whatever) and slips the drawing into it. Then he shuffles the other drawings in the folder, puts the folder back into its envelope and just manages to finish the operation when she returns.
CHRIS
Shouldn’t you get a doctor?
GIRL
His heart is tired. It happens.
She sees the envelope there and puts it away, along with various other things Beck has been showing him.
GIRL
Thank you. For bringing his wallet.
Chris wants to kiss her but doesn’t.
CHRIS
I’d like to help.
GIRL
You’re sweet.
CHRIS
What is your name?
She smiles and shakes her head, and takes him to the door.
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET, BECK’S HOUSE – NIGHT
Chris cycles off. The Girl goes back inside.
INT. BECK’SHOUSE – NIGHT
Beck is behind the door as she comes in. He looks at her, angrily.
INT. CHRIS’S BEDSITTER – NIGHT
The drawing is on Chris’s bed as he gets ready for bed. He kneels by the bed and looks at it. The photograph of the drawing is also there.
INT. GARRARD’S, SALEROOM – DAY
A sale has just concluded, Contemporary Art, say, and Chris and Ollie with other porters are shifting lots: life-size papier mâché figures maybe, which they have to embrace, so their conversation is spasmodic and interrupted by their duties.
OLLIE
Where is it now?
CHRIS
My locker.
OLLIE
Shit.
They shift some lots.
I don’t want to be seen talking to you.
CHRIS
I’m taking it back tonight.
OLLIE
He doesn’t know that. You’re in dead trouble. I’d never seen you as a thief.
CHRIS
I’m only borrowing it. I thought maybe I could show it to Mr Jelley.
OLLIE
Why? It’s not genuine.
CHRIS
It might be. We can pretend. He’s an old man. It would be a nice present.
OLLIE
We? We? Besides, how can it be a present? It’s his already.
CHRIS
To tell him it’s genuine. Tell him it is what he thinks it is.
OLLIE
But he thinks it is genuine.
CHRIS
Have somebody else say so. Besides, there’s something about it …
The sale ends.
INT. GARRARD’S, LOCKER ROOM – DAY
CHRIS
I just wanted to do them a favour.
He is putting the drawing away.
OLLIE
Them? I thought it was an old man.
CHRIS
There’s a girl. His daughter. I don’t fancy her.
OLLIE
You disgust me. I’m not having anything to do with this.
By this time they have left the locker room and are coming into the sales clerk’s office.
What will you do when you retire, Mr Moberley?
MOBERLEY
Once upon a time, Oliver, I thought I’d just get in the car and tour the country, looking for bargains, small country sales, little antique shops.
CHRIS
Dealing?
MOBERLEY
No, no. A hobby. But those days are over. Sotheby’s, Christie’s … they’ve shaken the country down. Nothing left. People know too much now; they know what things are worth. Mind you, that’s all they do know. Not a nice place any more, England.
OLLIE
How much would a Michelangelo fetch?
MOBERLEY
Michelangelo? Well. Are you buying or selling? But the answer to your question is ‘priceless’.
CHRIS
Mr Marryatt-Smith says nothing’s priceless.
MOBERLEY
Oh well. I’m wrong then. Which reminds me … (He rummages in his drawer.) Your postcard came. What does it look like, the ceiling, now it’s cleaned?
One of the partners has been consulting the computer catalogue; he now leaves.
PARTNER
Bit shrill if you ask me. Preferred the grime.
As Moberley is pinning the card to the board Chris focuses on it and realises now why the Beck drawing is familiar.
OLLIE
Chris touched it, didn’t you, Chris?
CHRIS
What? Oh yes. Yes. He’s not very good on women. They look as if they’re on steroids.
MOBERLEY
Well, it was all done lying on his back, wasn’t it?
Ollie and Chris are leaving.
Oliver. ‘Priceless’ doesn’t mean you can’t put a price on it, or that there isn’t someone ready to buy. ‘Priceless’ means even if you could buy it, it still wouldn’t belong to you.
INT. GERRARD’S, CORRIDOR – DAY
Chris and Ollie come out and go along the corridor
CHRIS
I know what it is. I know what it is. Or what it’s supposed to be.
OLLIE
I’m not going to have anything to do with it. You’re on your own.
INT. GERRARD’S, MARRYATT-SMITH’S ROOM – DAY
Ollie is bringing Marryatt-Smith his coffee. The book on Michelangelo is on his desk. Marryatt-Smith is working, ignores Ollie who puts the tray on top of the Michelangelo books, takes the cup of coffee and puts it on the desk. He lifts the book and the tray together and heads for the door.
MARRYATT-SMITH
Barnes.
OLLIE
Sir.
MARRYATT-SMITH
Bring it back.
OLLIE
Sir?
He turns and comes back.
MARRYATT-SMITH
The sugar, Barnes.
He sugars his coffee from the bowl, Ollie still holding the tray and under it the book. Ollie heads for the door again.
Barnes.
OLLIE
Sir.