by David Mamet
ANGLE. IN A NICHE IN THE WALL.
RONNIE reads the letter, then puts it in his pocket.
ANGLE. IN THE GARDEN, IN THE RAIN.
The MAID, hurrying out to close the gate, turns back, spying RONNIE. Camera takes her up to RONNIE.
13. INT. WINSLOW DRAWING ROOM. DAY.
ANGLE. INT. THE DRAWING ROOM. JOHN AND CATHERINE.
CATHERINE: Was it an ordeal?
JOHN: … scared to death.
CATHERINE: My poor darling—
JOHN: The annoying thing was that I had a whole lot of neatly turned phrases ready for him, and he wouldn’t let me use them.
CATHERINE opens the door onto the terrace and steps out.
14. EXT. WINSLOW TERRACE. DAY.
CATHERINE glances behind her, into the house, takes out her cigarettes, and lights one. JOHN follows her out.
She gives him a kiss, takes the ring box from her pocket, and hands it to him. He smiles, takes the ring out, and starts to put it on her finger.
ANGLE, CATHERINE’S POV.
The MAID and RONNIE, walking across the terrace. The MAID turns and goes back into the house at the kitchen level, off the screen.
JOHN: (Cont’d. Turning)… what?
CATHERINE steps over to the edge of the terrace. Camera takes her through.
ANGLE. EXT. ON THE TERRACE, CATHERINE AND THE BEDRAGGLED-LOOKING RONNIE.
CATHERINE: Ronnie. What is it?
RONNIE: Where did Father go? Is he gone?
CATHERINE: I’ll go get him.
She leads RONNIE into the drawing room.
15. INT. WINSLOW DRAWING ROOM. DAY.
RONNIE: (Urgently) No, don’t. Please, Kate, don’t!
CATHERINE, halfway to the door, stops, puzzled.
CATHERINE: What’s the trouble, Ronnie?
Pause.
RONNIE, trembling on the edge of tears, does not answer her. She approaches him.
CATHERINE: (Cont’d.) You’d better go and change.
RONNIE: No.
CATHERINE: (Gently) What’s the trouble, darling? You can tell me.
RONNIE looks at JOHN.
CATHERINE: (Cont’d.) You know John Watherstone, Ronnie. You met him last holidays, don’t you remember?
RONNIE remains silent, obviously reluctant to talk in front of a comparative stranger.
JOHN: (Tactfully) I’ll disappear.
CATHERINE: (Pointing to study) In there, do you mind?
JOHN goes out quietly. CATHERINE gently leads RONNIE into the hallway and settles him near the backstairs.
16. INT. WINSLOW HALLWAY/BACKSTAIRS HALLWAY. DAY.
CATHERINE: (Cont’d.) Now, darling, tell me. What is it? Have you run away?
RONNIE shakes his head, evidently not trusting himself to speak. CATHERINE gently removes RONNIE’s wet cap and puts it on the newel post.
CATHERINE: (Cont’d.) What is it, then?
RONNIE pulls from his pocket the document we have seen him reading earlier and slowly hands it to her. CATHERINE reads it quietly.
CATHERINE: (Cont’d.) Oh, God!
RONNIE: I didn’t do it.
CATHERINE rereads the letter in silence.
RONNIE: (Cont’d.) Kate, I didn’t. Really, I didn’t.
CATHERINE: (Abstractly) No, darling. (She seems uncertain what to do.) This letter is addressed to Father. Did you open it?
RONNIE: Yes.
CATHERINE: You shouldn’t have done that—
RONNIE: I was going to tear it up. Then I heard you come in from church and ran into the garden—I didn’t know what to do. We could tell Father term had ended two days sooner.
CATHERINE: No, darling.
RONNIE: … I’m back for the Christmas Holidays, I …
CATHERINE: No, darling …
RONNIE: I didn’t do it. Kate, really. I …
CATHERINE: You’re drenched to the Skin, come on.
They encounter DICKIE, coming downstairs.
DICKIE: (Cheerfully) Hello, Ronnie, old lad. How’s everything? Back early, eh?
RONNIE turns away from him.
CATHERINE: I’ll find Mother.
DICKIE: All right.
CATHERINE watches them go upstairs and hurries into the dining room, where the MAID is setting the table. RONNIE’s wet clothes have left a puddle on the floor.
ANGLE.
On RONNIE walking DICKIE upstairs.
DICKIE: (Cont’d.) What’s up, then, old chap?
RONNIE: Nothing.
DICKIE: You can tell me …
17. INT. WINSLOW HOUSE, RONNIE’S ROOM. DAY.
An Edwardian boy’s room. A poster on the wall of the Royal Naval Academy, Osbourne, an oar hanging on the wall, a rack with various naval hats.
DICKIE leads RONNIE in.
DICKIE: (Cont’d.) Have you been sacked?
RONNIE nods.
DICKIE: (Cont’d.) Bad luck. What for?
RONNIE: I didn’t do it.
DICKIE: No, of course you didn’t.
RONNIE: Honestly. I didn’t.
DICKIE: That’s all right, old chap. No need to go on about it. I believe you.
He takes a towel from the washbasin and gently rubs down RONNIE.
DICKIE: (Cont’d.) I say—you’re a bit damp, aren’t you?
RONNIE: I’ve been out in the rain—
DICKIE: You’re shivering a bit too, aren’t you? Oughtn’t you to go and change? I mean, we don’t want you catching pneumonia—
RONNIE: I’m all right.
DICKIE: What is it they say you did, by the by …?
GRACE comes in, with CATHERINE following. GRACE comes quickly to RONNIE, who, as he sees her, turns away from DICKIE and runs into her arms.
GRACE: There, darling! It’s all right, now.
RONNIE begins to cry quietly, his head buried in her dress.
RONNIE: (His voice muffled) I didn’t do it, Mother.
GRACE: No, darling. Of course you didn’t. I know that you didn’t—Now let’s get out of these nasty wet clothes.
RONNIE: Don’t tell Father.
GRACE: No, darling. Not yet. I promise. Come along now. She leads him toward the door, held open by CATHERINE.
GRACE: (Cont’d.) Your new uniform, too. What a shame!
GRACE motions CATHERINE out and closes the door.
18. INT. WINSLOW HALLWAY/BACKSTAIRS HALLWAY. DAY.
CATHERINE comes down the backstairs and finds JOHN waiting.
JOHN: Bad news?
CATHERINE nods.
JOHN: (Cont’d.) Expelled, I suppose?
He gets his answer from her silence, while she recovers herself.
CATHERINE: God, how little imagination some people have! How can they torture a child?
JOHN: What’s he supposed to have done?
She reads him the letter, hands him the letter. JOHN takes it.
ANGLE, INS. THE LETTER READS:
Royal Naval Academy, Osbourne
To Mr. Arthur Winslow, 431 Greystock Lane.
I am commanded by My Lords’ Commissioners of the Admiralty to inform you…
CATHERINE: (VO)—Ten days ago. Just think what that little creature has been going through these last ten days, entirely alone, no one to look after him, knowing what he had to face at the end of it!
ANGLE.
JOHN and CATHERINE, as JOHN folds up the letter. He passes the letter back to CATHERINE, and she puts it in her pocket.
JOHN: It does seem pretty heartless, I admit.
CATHERINE: It’s cold, savage inhumanity.
JOHN: But, you must remember, darling, he’s not really at school. He’s in the Service.
CATHERINE: What difference can that make?
As the MAID passes behind them and goes into the dining room, they move across the hallway toward the morning room.
19. INT. WINSLOW MORNING ROOM. DAY.
JOHN: Their ways of doing things may seem to an outsider brutal—but at least they’re always fair. There must have been a full inquiry before the
y’d take a step of this sort. What’s more, if there’s been a delay of ten days, it would only have been in order to give the boy a better chance to clear himself—
Pause.
CATHERINE is Silent.
JOHN: (Cont’d.) I’m awfully sorry. (After a pause) How will your father take it?
CATHERINE: (Simply) It might kill him—
There is the sound of the front doorbell. VIOLET crosses the hallway toward the front door to greet DESMOND.
CATHERINE: (Cont’d.) Oh heavens! We’ve got Desmond to lunch. I’d forgotten—
CATHERINE moves closer to JOHN and whispers.
JOHN: Who?
CATHERINE: Desmond Curry—our family solicitor. Oh, Lord! (In a hasty whisper) Darling—be polite to him, won’t you?
JOHN: Am I usually rude to your guests?
CATHERINE: No, but he doesn’t know about us yet—
JOHN: Who does?
CATHERINE: (Still in a whisper) Yes, but he’s been in love with me for years—it’s a family joke—
CATHERINE and JOHN enter the hallway.
20. INT. WINSLOW HALLWAY. DAY.
VIOLET: (Announcing) Mr. Curry.
DESMOND CURRY approaches. He is a man of about forty-five. VIOLET exits, having put away his umbrella and coat.
CATHERINE: Hullo, Desmond. I don’t think you know John Watherstone—
DESMOND: No—but, of course, I’ve heard a lot about him—
JOHN: How do you do?
Pause.
DESMOND: Well, well, well. I trust I’m not early.
CATHERINE: Oh, no, dead on time, as always.
DESMOND: Capital. Good.
Pause.
Everyone starts to speak at once.
DESMOND: (Cont’d.) I see you’ve got your tree…
JOHN: I’m sorry …
DESMOND: No, Catherine, please …
CATHERINE: It’s quite all right. I was only going to ask how your shoulder was.
DESMOND: Not too well, I’m afraid. The damp, you know.
CATHERINE: I’m sorry to hear that.
DESMOND: Old cricket injury.
Another pause.
DESMOND: (Cont’d. At length) Well, well. It seems I’m to congratulate you both—
CATHERINE and JOHN exchange a look.
DESMOND: Violet told me, just now—at the door. Yes—I must congratulate you both.
CATHERINE: Thank you so much, Desmond.
JOHN: Thank you.
DESMOND: Of course, it’s quite expected, I know. Quite expected. Still it was rather a surprise, hearing it like that—from Violet.
CATHERINE: We were going to tell you, Desmond, dear. It was only official this morning, you know. In fact, you’re the first person to hear it.
DESMOND: Am I? Am I, indeed? Well, I’m sure you’ll both be very happy.
GRACE comes downstairs.
GRACE: Hullo, Desmond, dear.
DESMOND: Hullo, Mrs. Winslow.
GRACE: (To CATHERINE) I’ve got him to bed—
CATHERINE: Good.
DESMOND: Nobody ill, I hope?
GRACE: No, no. Nothing wrong at all—
ARTHUR comes in from the backstairs, with bottles under his arm. In the BG we see the MAID laying the dining room table.
ARTHUR: Grace, when did we last have the cellars seen to?
GRACE: I can’t remember, dear.
ARTHUR: Well, they’re in shocking condition. Hullo, Desmond. How are you? You’re not looking well.
DESMOND: Am I not? Threw my shoulder out, you know—
ARTHUR carries the bottles into the dining room. JOHN steers DESMOND into the drawing room, followed by CATHERINE and GRACE.
21. INT. WINSLOW DRAWING ROOM. DAY.
JOHN: Are you any relation of D. W. H. Curry who used to play for Middlesex?
DESMOND: I am D. W. H. Curry.
GRACE: Didn’t you know we had a great man in the room?
JOHN: Curry of Curry’s match?
DESMOND: That’s right.
ARTHUR wanders in and rings the bell.
22. INT. WINSLOW BACKSTAIRS HALLWAY. DAY.
ANGLE. ON VIOLET.
She is appearing to supervise the laying of the table. She points to the MAID and points down to the floor. The MAID nods and hurries off.
The MAID hurries back with a mop and begins to mop up the puddle on the spot where RONNIE was standing. In the BG we see and hear DESMOND and JOHN.
JOHN: Hat trick against the Player, in what year was it…?
DESMOND: Eighteen ninety-five at Lords.
JOHN: You were a hero of mine.
DESMOND: Was I, was I indeed …?
23. INT. WINSLOW DRAWING ROOM. DAY.
VIOLET comes in, in response to the bell rung by ARTHUR some moments before.
VIOLET: Sir.
ARTHUR: Yes, Violet. Bring some glasses, would you?
VIOLET: Very good, sir.
She goes out. CATHERINE wraps a shawl around herself.
ARTHUR: I thought we’d try a little of the Madeira before luncheon—we’re celebrating.
GRACE jogs his arm, furtively, indicating DESMOND.
CATHERINE: It’s all right, Father. Desmond knows—
DESMOND: Yes, indeed. It’s wonderful news, isn’t it? I’ll most gladly drink a toast to the—er—to the—
ARTHUR: (Politely) Happy pair, I think, is the phrase that is eluding you—
DESMOND: Well, as a matter of fact, I was looking for something new to say—
ARTHUR: (Murmuring) A forlorn quest, my dear Desmond.
GRACE: (Protestingly) Arthur, really! You mustn’t be so rude.
ARTHUR: I meant, naturally, that no one—with the possible exception of Voltaire—could find anything new to say about an engaged couple—
DICKIE comes in.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d.) Ah, my dear Dickie—just in time for a glass of Madeira in celebration of Kate’s engagement.
VIOLET comes in with a tray of glasses. ARTHUR begins to pour out the wine.
DICKIE: Oh, is that all finally spliced up now? Kate definitely being entered for the marriage stakes. Good egg!
ARTHUR: Quite so. I should have added just now—with the possible exception of Voltaire and Dickie Winslow. (To Violet) Take these round, will you, Violet?
VIOLET goes first to GRACE, then to CATHERINE, then to JOHN, DESMOND, DICKIE, and finally ARTHUR.
CATHERINE: Are we allowed to drink to our own healths?
ARTHUR: I think it’s permissible.
GRACE: No. It’s bad luck.
JOHN: We defy augury. Don’t we, Kate?
GRACE: You mustn’t say that, John dear. I know. You can drink to each other’s healths. That’s all right.
ARTHUR: There is no Augury in Israel—our superstitious terrors are allayed? Good.
The drinks have now been handed around.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d. Toasting) Catherine and John!
All drink—CATHERINE and JOHN to each other. VIOLET lingers, smiling, in the doorway.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d. Seeing Violet) Ah, Violet. We mustn’t leave you out. You must join this toast.
VIOLET: Oh, nothing for me, sir.
He pours her a glass.
VIOLET: (Cont’d.) Well, perhaps. Just a sip.
ARTHUR: Quite so. Your reluctance would be more convincing if I hadn’t noticed you’d brought an extra glass—
VIOLET: (Taking glass from ARTHUR) Oh, I didn’t bring it for myself, sir. I brought it for Master Ronnie—(She extends her glass.) Miss Kate and Mr. John.
ARTHUR: You bought an extra glass for Master Ronnie, Violet?
VIOLET: (Mistaking his bewilderment) Well—I thought you might allow him just a taste, sir. Just to drink the toast. He’s that grown up these days. (She turns to go.)
ARTHUR: Master Ronnie isn’t due back from Osbourne until Tuesday, Violet.
VIOLET: Oh no, sir, he’s back already. The girl said.
ARTHUR: Christmas holidays don’t begin till Tuesday.<
br />
VIOLET: Well, the girl saw him with her own two eyes. Isn’t that right, mum?
Pause.
ARTHUR: Grace, what does this mean?
CATHERINE: (Pause) Alright, Violet, you can go.
VIOLET: Yes, miss.
She goes out.
ARTHUR: (To CATHERINE) Did you know Ronnie was back?
CATHERINE: Yes—
ARTHUR: And you, Dickie?
DICKIE: Yes, Father.
ARTHUR: Grace?
GRACE: (Pause) We thought it best you shouldn’t know for the time being. Only for the time being, Arthur.
ARTHUR: (Slowly) Is the boy very ill?
No one answers. ARTHUR looks from one face to another.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d.) Answer me, someone. Is the boy very ill? Surely I have the right to know. If he’s ill I must be with him—
CATHERINE: (Steadily) No, Father. He’s not ill.
Pause.
ARTHUR: Will someone tell me what has happened, please?
GRACE looks at CATHERINE with helpless inquiry. CATHERINE nods, and hands the letter to her mother.
GRACE: (Timidly) He brought this letter for you—Arthur.
ARTHUR pats his pockets, looking for his eyeglasses—he cannot find them.
ARTHUR: Read it to me, please—
GRACE: Arthur—not in front of—
ARTHUR: Read it to me, please.
GRACE again looks at CATHERINE for advice, and again receives a nod. GRACE begins to read.
As GRACE reads the letter, intercut are CUs of the family, and an INS. of the letter itself.
GRACE: (Reading) “Confidential. I am commanded by My Lords’ Commissioners of the Admiralty to inform you that they have received a communication from the Commanding Officer of the Royal Naval College at Osbourne, reporting the theft of a five-shilling postal order at the College on the seventh instant, which was afterwards cashed at the Post Office. Investigation of the circumstances of the case leaves no other conclusion possible than that the postal order was taken by your son, Cadet Ronald Arthur Winslow. My Lords deeply regret that they must therefore request you to withdraw your son from the College.” It’s signed by someone—I can’t quite read his name—
She turns away quickly. CATHERINE puts an arm on her shoulder. ARTHUR has not changed his attitude. There is a pause, during which we can hear the sound of a gong in the hall outside.
ARTHUR: (At length) Desmond—be so good as to call Violet.
DESMOND does so. There is another pause, until VIOLET comes in.