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

  Your father is dead.

  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