MUM (CONT’D)
This was a mistake.
She stands, helping her husband up - they’re leaving.
Danny allows them to.
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. HALLWAY. DAY
Danny watching his parents leave. He stands at the back of the hall. The front door opens.
Some deeper childhood connection pulls at Danny. He can’t allow it to end like this. Despite his better judgement.
DANNY
Tell me why.
His mum turns to Danny.
DANNY (CONT’D)
Why now?
Maintaining a hard line.
DANNY (CONT’D)
Why today?
MUM
Weeks, that’s all he’s got left.
That revelation causes Danny to rethink.
DANNY
(without conviction)
We’ve said goodbye.
MUM
Want to do a better job of it?
Danny desperately does.
MUM (CONT’D)
There’s something we’d like to show you.
INT/EXT. DANNY’S PARENTS CAR / LONDON. DAY
A beat-up car. Danny’s mum driving. His dad in the passenger seat. Danny in the back.
A family.
Danny snoops through the items in the backseat pocket. A take away menu. A pack of gum. A tatty street map.
Yet at this ordinariness Danny seems to falter, becoming paranoid and unsure.
DANNY
If this a lie please stop the car and let me out. Because I’ve been through too much for this to be another lie.
(beat)
I won’t be angry. It’s not your fault. Just stop the car. And let me out.
(beat)
But if you drive me home, when I gave you this chance...
(beat)
Mum, is this is a lie?
He looks at his mum in the rear view mirror. She looks at him in the rear view mirror. And does not stop the car.
EXT. EAST LONDON. TERRACE STREET. DAY
Danny stands outside his childhood home. A row of terrace houses, once near-worthless now property-boom-gentrified.
Danny follows his parents inside, past the tidy front garden, with some flower pots. A welcome mat.
INT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY
Danny stands in a neat, clean, ordinary room. A television. Some DVDs on the bookshelves. Cookbooks.
Three separate geraniums planted in a single decorative rectangular pot.
His mum helps his dad to a comfy chair, adapted to his physical needs with hospital equipment.
His mum takes up an ordinary digital camera. Busy with the timer. Checking with Danny.
DANNY’S MUM
Alright if I?
Danny can’t form a response, positive or negative.
INT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY
An awkward & bizarre family photo. Danny next to his dad in the chair. His mum on the other side.
The camera on the shelf. The flash --
INT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY
Danny seated near his dad. Larynx or not, these men have nothing to say to each other.
His mum enters with a tray of tea and classy biscuits. She places it on the coffee table.
Danny picks up the porcelain milk urn shaped like a cow. He pours, fascinated, as the milk flows through the cow’s mouth into a dainty cup.
Danny continues to pour until it spills over. Even as it overflows, he doesn’t stop. Milk puddle growing larger.
His parents stare.
DANNY
(gentle)
I wish this could be true.
Danny puts the urn down. He stares at his dad wheezing, with yellow tinged eyes. At his mum.
Danny’s attention concentrates on the geraniums behind her. He stands and walks to them. Touching their leaves.
Then, taking hold of the base of one of the plants, Danny gently lifts the geranium clean out of the decorative pot. It emerges from the loose soil easily.
He places it on the table.
The root system is smooth & precise. It was re-potted recently. And its roots haven’t spread.
Danny repeats this for the other plants so they’re side by side. All three recently moved from plastic pots.
Danny turns to his parents. His mum is about to speak. Danny raises a finger to his lips. No more lies.
Danny studies the room.
DANNY (CONT’D)
People can change this much. For real, I mean.
He looks at his dad.
DANNY (CONT’D)
You’re not dying, are you?
His wheezing, although exactly the same sound, now feels less sad, and a little more menacing.
DANNY (CONT’D)
Not right now. Not next week.
Her respectability slipping. Roughness creeping back in.
MUM
They’re scary people, Dan. They know everything about us. Every thing we ever done wrong. What-did-you-do? This isn’t like pinching stuff from the shops.
DANNY
Why am I here?
And in a flash of anger. Shrill and sharp.
MUM
Why are we here? Being made to do this? Being threatened? What have you dragged us into?
His mum continues speaking, vicious tongued, but Danny stops listening, instead, observing the movement of her lips, her frown, a particular flush to her neck.
He’s seen it countless times before. But this time it has no impact. As she finishes we fade back in.
MUM (CONT’D)
And you have the cheek to ask:
(imitating)
Why am I here?
And in this speech we have a potted history of Danny’s childhood. An angry mum interested only in herself.
Understanding that there’s no way on earth this woman would want a family photo Danny turns to the camera.
He picks it up. Heavier than it looks. He checks the photo on the display.
On screen we see the awkward and bizarre family photo.
With curiosity, not aggression, Danny breaks the camera apart snapping the shell, revealing a high tech interior.
We can’t be sure & Danny can see that neither of his parents know what it really is. He puts it down.
About to leave. But a thought strikes him.
DANNY
I always wanted to know...
Wouldn’t it have been easier to love me?
His mum is less aggressive now.
MUM
I can’t say why we never did.
Danny puts a gentle hand on his mum’s cheek. She’s surprised.
DANNY
(emotional)
I’m not angry anymore.
But he is sad. At the confirmed absence of real parents.
He walks towards his dad. The man is frail, and afraid, expecting to be punched, to reap what he sowed.
Instead, Danny kisses his cheek. And sheds a tear.
EXT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. FRONT GARDEN & STREET. DAY
Danny walking away from the house. When he glances back his mum has already shut the front door.
They’ll never see each other again.
Understanding that fact, Danny takes a beat to say goodbye to this street - this place - before continuing on his way. He takes out his phone.
It’s stopped working. The screen is blank. He tries to turn it on. Nothing. Takes out the battery, tries again.
The phone’s dead. Danny’s troubled.
He touches the cylinder around his neck --
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY
At the computer Danny slots in the data stick. Only to discover it’s been wiped clean.
Danny accesses his e-mail. His account has been purged. None of the sent messages. Nothing in his inbox.
Nothing remains.
And then an email appears. The only one in his inbox. Sender: unknown. No text. Just an attachment.
Danny presses on t
he attachment.
On screen we see the bizarre family photo taken only a few hours ago. Danny. Mum. Dad.
A provocation. An explanation.
Suddenly the printer comes to life. And prints a colour copy of the family portrait.
Danny sits back, tight with anger. And notices that --
Every book on the shelves has been turned upside down.
Amazed, Danny stands, walking down the length of the bookshelves, only to find, incongruous among Scottie’s first editions -- the photo album of press cuttings.
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY
Danny ripping out pages from the album of press cuttings. He feeds them into the shredder.
The black and white text spews out in thin lines. “This is a lie” reduced to thin red streaks.
Danny feeds in his family photo.
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY
Danny sitting on the floor. Opposite him is a mountainous heap of shredded press clippings.
And now - truly - nothing remains.
Danny’s exhausted. A spent force. It’s over.
INT. COMMUNITY CENTRE. ROOM. EVENING
Danny at his regular HIV support group meeting. On the whiteboard we see info about employment laws and HIV.
A new attendee. A young man, only 17 years old, shy and embarrassed. The friendly chair addresses this young man.
CHAIR
I’d like us to welcome Ryan.
There’s applause.
CHAIR (CONT’D)
A lot of people don’t speak until they’ve been a few times. So you shouldn’t feel any pressure. But I wanted to give you the chance.
Most eyes on Ryan - friendly - a few don’t look, deliberately, not wanting him to feel under pressure.
Ryan struggling with what to say. Such a familiar reaction no one is surprised. Everyone empathetic.
CHAIR (CONT’D)
And remember there’s no point talking unless you feel able to tell the truth.
(beat)
Maybe you’re not ready?
Ryan shakes his head. Not ready.
Danny sits forward.
DANNY
I’ll go.
Everyone in the group is pleasantly surprised, as though these were among the first words Danny has spoken.
GROUP CHAIR
Danny.
Danny considers where to begin.
FLASH TO:
EXT. VAUXHALL BRIDGE. DAWN (PAST)
Danny on the bridge, that morning. He turns to see Alex.
The first time. That first look.
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. COMMUNITY CENTRE. ROOM. EVENING (PRESENT)
The group in stunned silence. They all believe him.
Danny has finished his summary. He’s holding the cylinder. He puts it back, around his neck.
Finally, the oldest member of the group, a black man in his seventies, speaks out, with gravitas.
OLDEST GUY
What are you going to do now?
The first time he’s articulated his defeat aloud:
DANNY
I’m going to do nothing.
INT. COMMUNITY CENTRE. CORRIDOR. EVENING
Danny leaving the session.
In the corridor, waiting for their seventeen year old son, are Ryan’s parents.
Mother and father side by side, as if waiting to pick their child up from after-school music practice.
We wonder if they’re angry, disapproving, ashamed.
The parents walk with their son, silently. And as they walk out, the mother rests a hand on her son’s shoulder.
A family.
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT
Danny crouching over the heap of shredded pages. He picks out the shredded colour lines of his family photo.
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT
On a flat sheet of card Danny’s positioning the strips.
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT
Danny has assembled and glued down all the vertical strips of his ‘family photo’.
Except he’s wilfully misaligned the strips. Mum is mingled with Dad is mingled with Danny.
A family messed up.
EXT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. NIGHT
Danny getting into Scottie’s car. He has the copy of fake research manuscript. And the mixed up family photo --
EXT. MOTORWAY. NIGHT
Danny driving along the motorway at night.
EXT. MANSION. NIGHT
Danny driving towards the mansion.
EXT. MANSION. GARDENS. DRIVEWAY. NIGHT
Danny getting out of car, holding a copy of the research manuscript and the messed up family portrait.
The mansion is in darkness.
Danny turns towards the intimidating front doors.
EXT. MANSION. FRONT DOORWAY. NIGHT
Frances opens the doors, inscrutable as ever, except, perhaps for the faintest trace of admiration.
FRANCES
I rather thought it might be you.
She looks him over, registering his seriousness of purpose. And the man himself - older, wiser, sadder.
DANNY
Is it too late to talk?
FRANCES
(with sadness)
Too late? Perhaps it is.
She steps back, leaving the doors open for him.
Danny enters the mansion.
INT. MANSION. GRAND HALLWAY. NIGHT
Frances less formally dressed compared to episode two. Not hiding behind any imposing outfit.
At the top of the stairs, looking down, stands Charles, dressed in moth-eaten British country tweed.
The nanny appears to the other side, staring at Danny with grave concern.
Behind Danny, the powerful figure of the groundsman arrives from outside.
He shuts the main doors.
Danny waits, pinned between these four sets of eyes.
A noise: a crack like thunder.
Charles has brought the tip of his walking stick down hard on the floor as if to cleave this house in two.
Frances is untroubled by her husband’s anger, turning to him, soothing an agitated child:
FRANCES
What harm can it do?
Charles speaks. For the first time. Slowly. Like a rusted machine coming to life.
CHARLES
What good can it do?
Frances responds, partly to him, partly to herself.
FRANCES
What good? What possible good? What good can any of us do? Better leave him be? He’s just a boy?
Is she even speaking about Danny?
To their surprise Charles begins to laugh. Horribly.
CHARLES
Just a stupid boy.
Charles disappears into the gloom, taking his horrible laugh with him. Frances appears shaken.
She looks at the groundsman, some signal given.
The groundsman steps forward and pats Danny down. Car keys. Wallet. The fake research manuscript.
And the reassembled family photo on the card.
The manuscript and photo are handed to Frances. She’s regained her composure.
FRANCES
I take it there’s something you wish to discuss?
(studying Danny)
More than that...
(amazed)
You intend to accuse me?
Deliberate resonance, in Danny’s mind, with the funeral:
DANNY
I have a question.
FRANCES
A question.
(considers)
I’ll permit you a question.
(beat)
But just one.
Danny understands that she means to enforce it literally.
She turns, walking towards the Grand Hall.
Danny passes the Nanny. He stares at her.
She observes the intensity of his glance, fearful of Danny’s venture, but unable to intervene.
She turns and leaves, disappearing into the darkness. Danny watche
s her go.
The groundsman remains close behind.
INT. MANSION. GRAND HALL. NIGHT
They pass through the plastic sheeting, shadows and scaffolding into the other half of the room.
The Groundsman has followed them, standing at the back, intending to stay. Frances dismisses him.
FRANCES
That will be all.
He doesn’t want to leave. The master-servant power dynamic becomes ambiguous.
Danny wonders if this man is merely a Groundsman.
Frances holds her stare. On the verge of repeating the order. A touch of humiliation about the necessity.
Reluctantly the Groundsman retires. Into the shadows.
Yet they do not feel alone.
Danny has the theatre of this space. Frances waits for him to speak. And suddenly Danny’s confidence falters.
In a remarkable reversal from their previous encounter, Frances is no longer hostile.
She starts to build a fire in the old fireplace.
Danny watches. She glances back at him.
He walks forward, joining her.
INT. MANSION. GRAND HALL. NIGHT
The two of them building the fire. She observes the way he methodically spirals the fire-starting coils of paper.
FRANCES
I see some of his technique.
They light the fire together from opposite sides. The flames spread quickly.
Frances sits beside it, on a low cushioned stool. Danny does the same. They’re close to the fire and each other.
An intimate corner in this vast strange house.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
We both loved him.
DANNY
Yes.
FRANCES
Can’t we pretend, for a while, that’s all we need to say?
But the silence cannot hold.
Danny’s eyes rest on her hands. He reaches out for one.
She’s surprised. But after consideration she allows him to take it. He concentrates on her palm, not for any literal reason, as if trying to get closer to her.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
You always did have something of the mystic about you. Fortune teller-soothsayer, a person who knows nothing yet sees everything.
London Spy Page 21