The Magic Toyshop

1. 	Exterior. A London square. Night.

   	But a shabby square. Wet and misty, creating a halo 
	around a street lamp - an old-fashioned, gas one, the 
	period is circa 1954/5. The mist partially obscures 
	the surroundings. Out of the mist emerges a man, 
	gaunt, raw-boned, in a soiled trenchcoat open over a 
	shabby, ill-fitting suit. His five o'clock shadow is 
	just showing. His thoughts are worlds away from his 
	surroundings. His age is indeterminate, anything from 
	mid-twenties to mid-forties.
	He is heading towards the row of shops on one side of 
	the square: fog hides the square itself but the 
	outlines of one or two trees are visible - the 
	diffused light from the street lamp illuminates some 
	The shops comprise a greengrocer's - as FRANCIE 
	approaches, a woman in a blue overall reaches out and 
	pulls down a blind, hiding the piled fruit; and a 
	butcher - closed, nothing in the window but 
	greaseproof paper hanging from meathooks and enamelled 
	metal trays, on which sits a black and white cat. 
	There is also a toyshop.

	The toyshop is old-fashioned, quaint, in fact, almost 
	pastiche. It has a slightly bowed window and above, a 
	very ornate sign in gold on green: Philip Flower, Toys 
	and Novelties. The window itself, closed off from the 
	interior of the shop by shutters, is lit only by the 
	street lights, but we can make out inviting outlines 
	of the toys with which it is crammed - rocking horses, 
	elaborately dressed dolls, a huge Noah's ark.

	As FRANCIE arrives at the door, a light goes on inside 
	the shop. On the door hangs a sign: Closed: stuck into 
	the frame - the top section of the door is panelled in 
	glass - a visiting card, Francie O'Connor, Jigs and 
	Reels, in Irish lettering.
	We glimpse a red-haired woman running through the shop 
	just before she flings open the door. She is tall and 
	skinny, in shabby black dress and lisle stockings, 
	with, around her neck, a barbaric-looking silver 
	necklace as tight as a dog collar. Her very bright red 
	hair is untidily pinned on her head. She is carrying a 
	fiddle case. 

	Cut to:
2.	Interior. Toyshop. Night.

 	MARGARET ushers FRANCIE into the shop, registering joy 
	and relief. 

	A parrot, brilliantly coloured red and yellow, flies 
	up from its perch squawking: No sale, no sale. Then 
	subsides, with a faint clank. We see the chain that 
	chains it to the perch.
	Down one side of the shop runs a long, mahogany 
	counter: behind it, shelves stacked with many inviting 
	cardboard boxes; the lower shelves display a selection 
	of bright and beautiful, mostly wooden, toys. Other 
	toys - masks, hobby horses, jumping jacks etc. - hang 
	from hooks or are propped against the shelves. The shop 
	has a musty, old-fashioned air; lit by a single bulb 
	hanging from the middle of the ceiling, the upper 
	shelves are shadowy, dusty, cobwebby, their contents 
	enticing, mysterious, possibly sinister.

	There is a wooden chair on the customer's side of the 
	counter, no chair on the service side. A huge, ornate 
	metal cash register, registering pounds, shillings and 
	pence (this is pre-decimalisation) dominates the 

	Behind the counter, a blackboard, '7s 6d' is written 
	on it. 

	At the end of the counter, in the side wall, is a doorway, 
	that opens on to the stairs down to the basement workshop.  
	The sound of furniture being moved issues from this 

	MARGARET gives FRANCIE a quick hug and kiss. She 
	mouths: 'quick! quick' and thrusts the fiddle case in 
	his hands, then dives down the stairway to the
	workroom. The door to the passage is open. In comes a
	white bull terrier with pink eyes, it registers 	
	FRANCIE's presence with a wag of the tail. FRANCIE 
	takes off his trenchcoat and hangs it over the back of 
	the chair. FINN rushes through the same door. FINN is 
	a slight, red-haired boy, sixteen or seventeen, in 
	paint-stained overalls. He is pleased to see FRANCIE, 
	but agitated.
		Get a move on, man!
	He vanishes. 

	Cut to:

3.	Interior. Workroom. Night.

	The workroom is a whitewashed cellar running the 
	entire length of the building. Very little is visible 
	of the front end of the workroom. But there are 
	bunches of what appear to be severed limbs hanging 
	from hooks in the ceiling, also figures hanging from 
	There is a scuff of sawdust and woodshavings on the 

	The main focus of the workroom, tonight, however, is a 
	very very large toy theatre which is situated at the 
	back garden end.

	This is a square box, curtained all round in red plush, 
	with an elaborately carved and gilded proscenium arch 
	and red plush curtains in front. From behind the 
	curtains come knockings and bangings. The curtains 
	bulge and part, to reveal a single, glaring eye 
	peering out.

	In front of the theatre, a wooden upright chair, in 
	which sits MARGARET, craning round anxiously. She 
	looks relieved when FRANCIE comes in. FRANCIE takes
	his position in front of the little theatre. Removes 
	fiddle from case. Tucks fiddle under chin. Tunes up. 
	The curtains part further to reveal PHILIP FLOWER's 
	face; it is still shadowed, but the eyes and teeth 
		Now you've deigned to arrive, Mr. 
		Fiddler, we can begin.
	FRANCIE plays. The curtains glide open, revealing a 
	marionette, about three quarters life size, dressed as 
	Coppelia in the ballet, occupying the center of the 
	MARGARET applauds. FRANCIE starts to play again.
	As FRANCIE plays on, the puppet gets up en pointe. The 
	puppet takes a moment or two to absolutely synchronise 
	itself with the music; then begins to dance stiffly, 
	but rather well, culminating in an unstoppable 
	pirouette - she spins like a top. 

	Cut to:
4. 	MELANIE's bedroom. Day.

	MELANIE, fifteen, is pirouetting ferociously to music 
	she hears in her mind. She has tied her long, dark 
	hair back and is wearing a sort of improvised ballet 
	dress, an outgrown liberty bodice over a petticoat, 
	somewhat like a Degas. 

	It is a pretty, rather luxurious young girl's bedroom, 
	featuring a dressing table with silver-backed hair 
	brushes. On the single bed, with candlewick 
	counterpane, a teddy bear with a protuberant paunch 
	looks on. By his side, a glossy art book, open at the 
	reproduction of a Degas ballet dancer. The curtains 
	are pulled to, the sun shines through them, making a 
	vague, dreamy light. The dressing table mirror 
	reflects the room, the bed, the teddy bear. 

	MELANIE glances at herself in the mirror, unbalances 
	and topples forward. The bear watches. A draught from 
	the window blows the pages of the book over.
			(Voice over.) 
 	MELANIE reaches out, unfastens her hair from its 
	elastic band and, watching herself in the mirror, lets 
	it stream around her face. She pulls the bedspread off 
	the bed, dislodging the bear, and drapes herself. She 
	turns slightly from the mirror, so that she's only 
	three quarter reflected. There is a pre-Raphaelite 
	quality to this image. She watches herself perform 
	that Janey Morris pouting frown. A faintly anxious 
	expression crosses her face as her hands slide up and 
	cup her own breasts.
		Physically, I've reached my peak.  
		From now on, I can only deteriorate.
			(Voice over.) 
		Melanie! Dinner's ready!
 	MELANIE, looking rather vague and unpremeditated about 
	it, slides into a simulation of the pose of Botticelli's 
	Venus - she pulls forward one lock of black hair, lowers 
	her right hand to crotch level. She irritably shrugs off 
	the bedspread, to reveal the liberty bodice and petticoat 
	business underneath. She giggles a little and starts 
	unfastening the liberty bodice. Furious banging on the 
		Melanie! Your dinner's getting cold! 
		Whatever are you up to!
 	MELANIE, furiously embarrassed, snatches up shirt and 
	shorts from the floor, clutches them to her.
		Sorry, I'm coming - sorry!
	Cut to:
5. 	Interior. MELANIE's kitchen. Day.

	The country-style kitchen/dining room of a discreetly 
	luxurious house. Sitting at table are MELANIE's 
	brother, JONATHON, nine, flannel shorts, short-sleeved 
	shirt, sleeveless pullover, a characteristic small boy 
	of the period, wearing thick glasses, and her sister, 
	VICTORIA, a fat, cheerful three-year-old. MELANIE, 
	rumpled and childish in aertex shirt and shorts, has 
	just slipped into her place. 

	JONATHON eats steadily, eyes on plate. VICTORIA makes 
	a mess. MELANIE looks at her food with distaste.  MRS 
	RUNDLE, the housekeeper, stately, aproned, very 
	conscious of her aspirates. She takes a postcard out 
	of her apron pocket.
		I thought your dad was supposed to 
		be a writer, but he hasn't written 
		much here.
		Let me see!
	MELANIE tweaks the card from MRS RUNDLE's fingers.
		Melanie! Manners!
 	MELANIE reads the postcard out loud.

		'Have ploughed the stormy seas - ' 

 	As MELANIE reads on, his glasses begin to reflect, not 
	the kitchen but a stormy sea.

	Close-up JONATHON's glasses; reflected within them, a 
	three-masted barque riding huge waves.  Sounds of 
	storm and seagulls etc.  In the background, MELANIE 
	continues to read.
			(Voice over.) 
		Very rough weather, good to be back 
		on terra firma.' 

	Storm and noises fade. JONATHON's glasses clear. He 
	cocks his head to get a good look at the picture on 
	the postcard. It shows an ocean liner of the period. 
	He sighs, bends his head. Begins to eat again.

		'The New York lecture went quite 
		well, now on to Chicago. Daddy. 
		P.S. Be good chicks and lots of 
		love, Mummy.' Do you want the card, 

	JONATHON shakes his head.

		Wrong sort of boat. Almost as bad 
		as an aeroplane.
 	MELANIE moves her cottage pie about on her plate.

		They're going to fly everywhere. 
		Mean things. They should have taken 
		We're too young.
		I'm not too young. Juliet was my age. 

		Juliet who?
		In the play. She was married, by my 
		age. And Mummy. Mummy wasn't much 
		older than me when she got married. 
		Well, not that much older.
	Cut to:
6. 	Interior. MELANIE's house. Parents' bedroom.

	Close-up a bride, in monochrome: it is a bride in a 
	black-and-white photograph, an extravagantly dressed 
	bride in a white-lace crinoline wedding dress and a 
	veil surmounted by an orange blossom wreath. At first, 
	it would seem the bride is MELANIE but the hairstyle 
	- early Forties and the faded condition of the 
	photograph tell us this is MELANIE's mother.

	The camera pans back to show the rest of the 
	photograph - a groom, in tails and topper: and a huge, 
	stern, somehow incongruous man in a suit and a bowler 

	The photograph, in a silver frame, stands on a 
	dressing table that otherwise holds a silver box and 
	a jar or two of cosmetics, in front of a casement 
	winnow. The curtains are not drawn and moonlight 
	floods through, bleaching the colours out of the 
	plushly glamorous bedroom, with its fitted carpet 
	and period touches of Regency stripe wallpaper and 
	Redouté rose prints. A big, white moon hangs directly 
	outside the window.
	The bed is stripped: the pillowcases lack pillows. 
	The room is not in use.
	MELANIE is reflected in the photograph as she opens 
	the bedroom door. 

	Somewhere a grandfather clock finishes striking 

	MELANIE, looking nervous and audacious at the same 
	time, slips into the bedroom.
	Cut to MELANIE holding the wedding photograph in her 
	hands, inspecting it closely.
	She is wearing plain, practical striped pyjamas, a 
	little too tight across the chest. Her hair hangs 
	over her shoulders.
	Looking at the photograph, she absent-mindedly scoops 
	up her hair and holds it on top of her head, in a 
	loose knot. It looks something like the bride's 

	She sets the photograph tenderly down on the dressing 
	table, briefly glancing at her reflection with its 
	piled-up hair in the dressing-table mirror. Then, 
	even move nervous and audacious, she tiptoes to the 
	wardrobe. Tiptoes, although there is nobody to hear 
	her, because she is in a place that is out-of-bounds. 

	She opens the wardrobe door. A huge, sheeted shape 
	looms within the depths of the wardrobe, among the 
	empty metal hangers.
	Nervous, audacious, aware she is handling one of her 
	mother's treasures without permission, MELANIE 
	reaches inside the wardrobe. The metal hangers jingle. 
	She takes the dress off its hook.
	The hooped skirts erupt from the sheet and engulf her 
	in lace. 

	Cut to: 

7. 	Interior. Parents' bedroom. Night.

    	The room is deserted, although the wardrobe door is 
	swinging open and the sheet in which the dress was 
	wrapped and a drifting spoor of tissue paper, lie on 
	the floor, shifting in the draught. Also MELANIE's 
	discarded pyjamas lie on the floor, too, where she 
	has dropped them.
	The wedding photograph is once again propped up on 
	the dressing table. As we watch, a breeze shivers the 
	lace frills on the bride's gown. She raises a hand to 
	clutch her veil.

	Just for a split second, this is not a photograph but 
	a fragment of monochrome actuality. 

	Cut to:

8. 	Exterior. Front of house. Night.

	MELANIE lives in a stockbroker Tudor kind of house, 
	set in a big garden. The front door opens. MELANIE, 
	in the wedding dress, the veil on her head secured by 
	a wreath of orange blossom, stands on the doorstep, 
	an ecstatic smile on her face. The dress is too long; 
	she has difficulty manoeuvering the elaborate skirts. 
	We see her feet are bare as she steps on to the 
	gravel path, wincing slightly. 

	Cut to:

9. 	Exterior. Garden. Night.

 	Huge garden, huge moon overhead, rosebushes with huge 
	roses and huge thorns. And a lily pond.
	She catches sight of her reflection in the moonlit 
	water and stops, rapt. Very lyrical and romantic shot 
	of MELANIE, looking bridal, reflected among the 
	moonlit water lilies.
	As she gazes at herself, the peace is shattered by 
	the ripping roar of an aeroplane overhead. A wind 
	blows across the pool, shattering her reflection. The 
	same wind whips the trees this way and that and blows 
	the petals off the roses in drifts. It lifts up the 
	veil and blows it and the orange blossom wreath up 
	and away. MELANIE makes an ineffectual grab after 

	Bang! Big, reverberating bang. 

	Cut to:

10. 	Exterior. Front of house. Night.

	A gust of wind; the front door slams shut. (This is 
	what has made the bang.) MELANIE swoops up and 
	wrestles with the shut front door, but cannot open it.
			(Under her breath.) 
		Drat and bother and drat, drat, 
		drat and bother and drat...

	She lifts up the knocker, she looks down at the 
	wedding dress ruefully and sets the doorknocker down 
	gently on the door. She gathers up her unwieldy 
	skirts and makes off.

	MELANIE looks up towards the open casement of her 
	bedroom window through the gnarled boughs of the old 
	apple tree. High on an out-of-reach bough have lodged 
	the orange-blossom wreath and the wedding veil, 
	hanging drifting down.

	MELANIE is tense and nervous. The garden is beginning 
	to frighten her. Silence, except for MELANIE's 
	agitated breathing. Nightingale starts to sing. She 
	swings herself out on to a lower bough of the tree. A 
	big moth briefly batters her face, disorienting her. 
	There is a ripping sound; the bodice tears under the 
	arms. MELANIE makes a face of woe, but raises herself 
	up on the bough, clutching at a higher one. A lace 
	flounce catches on a twig and tears. She looks down 
	again; but another flounce has caught somewhere else. 
	Sharp intake of breath. MELANIE swings herself 
	further up, in a cascade of ripping lace. Small, 
	unripe apples, leaves and twigs bounce off her on to 
	the ground. The nightingale continues its serenade. 
	She scrambles up the tree, apple tree debris tumbling 
	round her. The tree itself seems to be against her. A 
	branch catches at her arm.
	She inspects her arm. It is badly scratched and 
	bleeding. A drop or two of blood plops on to the white 
	satin bodice of the dress.
		Oh, no!
	She looks up towards the open window, then back down 
	the way she has come. It seems miles to the ground.

	She reaches up towards the window ledge. A whole 
	section of the dress rips with a rending sound. 

	Cut to:

11. 	Interior. MELANIE's bedroom. Night.

	The open casement, the flapping curtains, the branches 
	against a now darkening sky.

	MELANIE launches herself from the tree and flings 
	herself forward into the room. Her hair is full of 
	leaves and twigs. Her face is streaked with dirt and 
	tears, scratched and torn; her hands and arms are 
	scratched and the dress is in tatters and streaked 
	with blood and dirt.  The only sound is her laboured 

	Cut to:

12. 	MELANIE's front hall. Day.

	MRS RUNDLE in black cloth coat, smooths black gloves 
	over her fingers one by one. On the hallstand, a 
	wicker shopping basket contains a leather purse. 
	VICTORIA, neatly dressed, waits. JONATHON scuttles out 
	of the open front door, with a model ship in his arms, 
	looking out into the garden. MRS RUNDLE calls after 

		Don't fall in the pond is all I ask, 
		Jonathon, dear. 
			(To VICTORIA.) 
		We'll give Madam one last chance. 
			(A call to raise the dead.) 
		Melanie! Victoria and I are going to 
		the village! If you want breakfast, 
		you get it for yourself! And clear 
		up after you!
 	MELANIE, in shorts and blouse, sulks behind the 
	banisters, close behind MRS RUNDLE and VICTORIA. She 
	is carrying a basin of water with a flannel draped 
	over the side.
	The following shots succeed one another very rapidly. 

	Cut to:
13. 	Exterior. Lane. Day.

	MRS RUNDLE and VICTORIA walk down the lane. VICTORIA 
	stops to pick a flower from the hedge. Peaceful summer 
	countryside; sunshine. The peace is interrupted by a 
	motorcyclist, early Fifties vintage, with goggles, in 
	black on a black bike. He is visibly reminiscent of 
	one of Maria Cesare's motorcycle escorts from 
	Cocteau's Orphée. He rips down the country lane. MRS 
	RUNDLE and VICTORIA are forced to jump aside on to 
	the verge. MRS RUNDLE grumbles and mutters.

	Cut to:

14. 	Interior. Parents' bedroom. Day.

   	MELANIE, rubbing at the bloodstains on the dress with 
	a moistened flannel, is startled by the sound of a 
	motorbike and knocks over the basin of water, which 
	spills over both dress and bed, making a big, wet 
	puddle that starts to drip on to the floor.
	Cut to:

15. 	Interior. Hall Day.

 	A loud knocking on the door. MELANIE opens it.
	Framed in the doorway is the motorcyclist, holding a 
	yellow telegram envelope out towards MELANIE. 

	Cut to:

16. 	Exterior. Drive. Day.

   	JONATHON launches his boat on the pond. He blows 
	lightly and a breeze takes hold of the boat's sails. 
	It skims across the pond. He sits back on his heels, 
	looking pleased.
	There is a swan swimming languidly on the distant 
	reaches of the pond. 

	Abruptly, for no good reason, the boat keels over. 
	JONATHON rises from his knees, agitated. 

	Cut to:

17. 	Interior. Kitchen. Day.

   	VICTORIA, kneeling on a chair, is unpacking the basket 
	of groceries on to the kitchen table. MRS RUNDLE, 
	still in coat, hat and gloves, casts an eye around 
	the kitchen, looking for evidence that MELANIE has got 
	up. She finds none. She is irritated, but not with 
		You be a good girl, Victoria, and 
		don't stir out of that kitchen.
 	Cut to:

18. 	Interior. Landing. Day.

 	MRS RUNDLE, panting, irritable, has arrived at the 
	top of the stairs. MELANIE's door is wide open; the 
	curtain blows in the draught from the open window but 
	the room is empty.

	MRS RUNDLE looks around, puzzled. She sees a feather 
	blow out from under the door of the master bedroom. 
	Followed by another feather. She puts her ear to the 
	door. No sound inside.
		Are you in there? Melanie?
 	She opens the door. 

	Cut to:
19. 	Interior. MELANIE's parents' room. Day.

	A gale of white feathers whirls round and round, a 
	maelstrom and, sitting cross-legged on the bed, in 
	the middle of the trashed room, the bolster, empty 
	of its feathers, the wedding dress, jars from the 
	dressing table etc. scattered round her, sits 
	MELANIE, consumed with grief; clutching the yellow 
	telegram envelope in one hand.

	As MRS RUNDLE watches, the feathers subside. MRS 
	RUNDLE plucks the unopened telegram from MELANIE's 
	fingers. MELANIE makes no attempt to stop her.

	MRS RUNDLE opens the telegram. She reads it. She 
	shakes her head sadly. She folds the telegram, puts it 
	in her pocket. She awkwardly clambers on to the bed 
	and clumsily puts her arms round MELANIE.
		You poor things. All on your own.
 	Close-up wedding photograph. Nobody remains, now, but 
	the figure of the man in his bowler hat. 

	Cut to:

20. 	Exterior. Garden. Day.

   	Two months later. Autumn. Mist in the bushes, mist in 
	the branches of the apple tree, from which leaves and 
	ripe fruit are falling. High in the branches can still 
	be seen the orange-blossom wreath and the wraith-like 
	remains of the veil. 

	On the lawn is a tableau; all the glamorous furniture 
	and pictures (Redouté rose prints, old maps, hunting 
	prints) sofas, beds, lamp standards, the kitchen 
	furniture, the parents' four poster bed, MELANIE's 
	dressing table, everything. All draped in dustsheets. 
	Pots, pans, cups, saucers, everything. 

	Before this, as if posed for a photograph, the orphans. 
	MELANIE, in school raincoat, kneesocks, sensible shoes, 
	with her hair in very, very tight plaits, looking much 
	younger than fifteen. JONATHON in school cap and 
	blazer. VICTORIA in what is known as a 'Princess Anne' 
	coat. All with black armbands stitched round their 
	upper arms. JONATHON carries a boat. 

	Beside them, a pile of strapped-up suitcases.
	MRS RUNDLE stands a little to one side, in front of 
	her strapped trunk. She is in coat and hat too. 

	She coughs to hide her emotion. The tableau comes to 
		Families should stick together. Your 
		uncle and his missus are going to 
		look after you.
 	MRS RUNDLE and the children move closer to one another.
		We didn't even know Uncle Philip 
		got married. Mummy never said. He 
		didn't like Daddy. He never visited.
	VICTORIA runs to MRS RUNDLE and butts her head against 
	MRS RUNDLE's knees, weeping furiously. MRS RUNDLE picks 
	her up. Hugs her. Feels in her pocket for a bar of 
	chocolate. Gives it to VICTORIA. VICTORIA begins to 
	open it. MRS RUNDLE puts her in MELANIE's arms.
		You look after your sister, Victoria.
		If they'd stayed on the boat, none 
		of this would have happened.
 	Cut to:
21. 	Exterior. Railway station. Day.

  	Puffs of smoke; hissing of steam engine - we are still 
	in the age of steam. A train has just pulled in, a 
	crowd mills along the platform, disembarking and 
	meeting. Pigeons strut and flutter.
	FRANCIE and FINN are briefly visible through the 
	drifting smoke, leaning against a pillar. FRANCIE 
	wears his trenchcoat, FINN wears a threadbare donkey 
	jacket over paint-stained corduroy trousers. They both 
	look rough, not English, not middle class, hence 
	possibly dangerous or criminal or Irish (which they 

	FINN is smoking a cigarette. He moves with great grace 
	and elegance. 

	JONATHON still clutching his boat, gets out of a 
	third-class carriage far down the train. He is followed 
	by MELANIE, very flustered as she helps VICTORIA down 
	the steps.
	MELANIE looks around the platform helplessly; VICTORIA 
	slips away from her, chasing a pigeon.

	FINN spots MELANIE and puts out his cigarette. FINN and 
	FRANCIE start towards her just as VICTORIA, intent on 
	chasing her pigeon, topples over and sets up a howl.
		There, now ...
 	He stops, kneels, takes out a packet of chewing gum, 
	offers a stick to the crying child. MELANIE, unsure of 
	what is going on, starts after VICTORIA. She comes up 
	short against the monolithic figure of FRANCIE and 
	stares upwards.
		You'll be Miss Melanie.
		I thought our uncle was coming to 
		meet us.
		I'll get your bags.

			(With courtly grace.) 
		He was called away suddenly on 
		business and sent us in his place, 
		even going so far as to give us the 
		necessary taxi fare, an unaccustomed 
		attack of generosity on his part. 

	He heaves cases. The party moves off down the platform. 
	The children are nervous and confused. FINN keeps up a 
	babble of chatter. 

		You'll need to know who we are, 
		we're the brothers of his wife, 
		which makes us in an unsanctified 
		kind of way, your uncles. Me name is 
		Finn, me brother is called Francie -
		But you're Irish!
		There's no law, as I know of, to 
		prevent it.
		As yet.
	The brothers chuckle, to MELANIE's bewilderment. The 
	crowd swallows them up, the three children looking 
	very child-like in the company of the two men, 
	although we register that FINN is about the same 
	height as MELANIE. 

	Cut to:

22. 	Exterior. Square. Night.

   	Taxi draws up outside toyshop. While FRANCIE unloads 
	the cases, FINN pays the taxi driver. JONATHON gets 
	out of the cab, followed by MELANIE, more slowly, 
	assisting the yawning VICTORIA. FINN, having paid, 
	goes to help MELANIE with the baby. She flinches 
	JONATHON's glasses flash with light as they reflect 
	the light from the toyshop, which is dazzlingly lit 
	up, this time. And there is a big toy boat in the 
	window. JONATHON's face lights up. VICTORIA springs 
	to life.
 	The taxi drives away. The doorbell jangles. The door 
	opens. MARGARET stands in the doorway, arms extended 
	in welcome, hair tumbling out of its bun, smiling - 
	she looks very lovely. JONATHON stares. VICTORIA 
	takes first few steps towards her, then stops, 
	puzzled. MARGARET's face falls a little. She looks 
	anxiously, over the children's heads at FINN and 
		Are you our Auntie? 
			(MARGARET nods.) 
		What's your name?
 	MARGARET opens her mouth; closes it again. She looks 
	helpless. FRANCIE moves round and takes her by the 
		Didn't they tell you your Auntie 
		Margaret was dumb?
 	Cut to:

23. 	Interior. Kitchen. Night.

   	MARGARET is nervous and embarrassed, the children 
	anxious. The bleak room looks as festive as it can. A 
	white cloth on the table is laid with an enormous tea 
	- laid for only six places. There is a carving chair 
	at the head of the table, with no place in front of 
	it. MARGARET kneels in front of VICTORIA, unfastening 
	her coat. VICTORIA puts her hand on MARGARET's mouth. 
	They look at one another for a moment. VICTORIA 
	smiles. MARGARET goes on unfastening VICTORIA's coat. 
	JONATHON looks for a place to put his boat; stands on 
	tiptoe to prop it carefully on the mantelpiece. The 
	white bull terrier noses open the door. VICTORIA 
	extends her hand to it joyfully. FRANCIE seats himself 
	in one of the chairs by the fire. FINN sees the boat.
		That's a stylish craft. 

		I made it from a kit. 

		Did you now?
	MELANIE stares vaguely, holding her coat. She feels 
	lost. FINN takes her coat away. She is wearing a 
	plain, grey pleated skirt and a V-necked pullover - 
	almost school uniform.

		We'll get your things upstairs, 
		settle you in. 

	MELANIE pulls herself together with an effort.

		Uncle Philip isn't back yet. 

		One thing at a time. 

	Cut to: 

24. 	Interior. JONATHON's room. Night.

	An attic, with sloping ceilings; it looks like an 
	upturned boat. Plain floorboards, a plain little bed, 
	a table, a chair. One lamp bulb dangling from center 
	of room. Plain, bleak.
	The dormer window, at which the curtains are not 
	drawn, gives a view of the lights, it would seem, of 
	all London. JONATHON runs to look at the view. FINN 
	sets his suitcase down beside the bed, gestures to 
	the window.

		In daytime you can see St Paul's.
	JONATHON's point-of-view shot, the city, all 
	brilliantly lit, lying in a scoop of dark.

		It's like a crow's nest.

	He turns round with a radiant face. From where MELANIE 
	and FINN are standing, the floorboards look like those 
	of the deck of a ship.  JONATHON spreads his feet, so 
	that he looks as if he is standing on the deck of a 
	ship. The deck runs from side to side. 

	Cut to:

25.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Night.

	Wallpaper with red roses and green leaves. A big brass 
	bed, with a chamber pot under it. A chair. FINN opens 
	a cupboard, revealing a few coat hangers.
		You'll put your clothes here. 

		There's no mirror.
		There's not.

	She gulps. 

		Excuse me.
 	She heaves at her suitcase. FINN leaps forward. 

		I can manage. 

			(Heavy irony.) 
		Excuse me.
	He backs away, leans against the chest of drawers, 
	watching with a touch of irony as she heaves her 
	suitcase on to the bed, opens it, takes out Edward 
	Bear, puts him on her pillow. She smiles, tremulous, 
	defensive, at FINN.

		He's a pyjama case, really.
		Do you know you've lovely hair, 
		even if you torment it in those 
		I like plaits.
		You're spoiling your pretty looks. 
		Come here. 

	She tries to take a step backwards but can't because 
	of the bed. So she takes a step forward. He puts his 
	hands on her shoulders. He smiles reassuringly. Very 
	gently, he takes hold of one of her plaits and starts 
	to unplait it. 

	With an effort, MELANIE becomes admirably self-
		Don't you ever wash your neck? 

	FINN chuckles and starts on the other plait.
		Give me your comb. 

	Cut to: 

26. 	Interior. Kitchen. Night.

	View of kitchen through the open kitchen door - the 
	remains of that enormous tea, and JONATHON, yawning 
	enormously. MELANIE, her hair sprayed out around her 
	face, is clumsily holding a big, heavy tea cup in 
	both hands, in a way that suggests she isn't used to 
	such coarse crockery; she looks tired out. 

	Cut to:

27. 	Interior. Staircase. Night.

 	MARGARET, very tenderly, is carrying sleeping 
	VICTORIA upstairs to bed. 

	Cut to:

28. 	Interior. Girls' room. Night.

   	VICTORIA sleeps sweetly on the side of the bed next to 
	the wall, but MELANIE, on her side of the bed, sits up 
	in the dark, crying very, very quietly - we only know 
	because we see the tears on her cheeks glistening. She 
	is holding Edward Bear.
	She sits up, reaches under the pillow for her 
	handkerchief. Faintly, in the distance, she hears 
	fiddle music.
	She blows her nose on the handkerchief. The music 
	starts again. Fiddle and flute. 

	Cut to:

29. 	Interior. Kitchen landing. Night.

   	The music is now very loud; it comes from the kitchen. 
	MELANIE stoops to peer through the keyhole.

	MELANIE's point-of-view shot: FRANCIE and MARGARET 
	are playing, FRANCIE the fiddle, MARGARET the flute. 
	They are playing a jig. FINN sits in the armchair; he 
	gets up and starts very casually to dance.

	The dog sits down on the rug. MELANIE kneels down, in 
	order to look more comfortably. 

	Cut to:

30. 	Interior. Kitchen. Night. 

	The fiddle and flute piece ends.

	MARGARET sits in the armchair, idly holding the flute. 
	FINN sits at her feet. She strokes his hair, smiling 
	at FRANCIE. FRANCIE rosins his how and begins to play 
	a slow air. 

	Cut to:

31. 	Interior. Kitchen landing. Night.

   	A shadow of a large man in a bowler hat falls over 
	MELANIE as she lies asleep, on the floor. Music is 
	still being played in the kitchen. The bowler-hatted 
	man looks thoughtfully down at the sleeping girl; it 
	is her uncle, PHILIP FLOWER, recognisable at once 
	from the wedding photograph. 

	Close-up UNCLE PHILIP's impassive face.

	He bends over her and opens the kitchen door. The 
	music dies away.
		She ought to be in bed.
 	Cut to:

32. 	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Day.

   	Roses; red roses, fat and rich and blowing on the 
	tree and wet with dew - red roses and green leaves 
	and bristling thorns, rustling in the breeze, 
	drenched with sunshine. MELANIE is waking up in a 
	bower of roses. 

	Close-up MELANIE's face, as she wakes up, opens her 
	eyes. She sits up; the roses retreat, flattening out 
	and becoming two-dimensional. She rubs her eyes. The 
	roses are back on the wallpaper, again. 

	Cut to:
33.	Interior. Bathroom. Day.

 	Close-up a pair of false teeth, in a glass of water, 
	on a smeared glass shelf.

	MELANIE, in her pyjamas, stares fascinated at this 
	apparition. There is a mysterious dripping noise.

	The bathroom is a masterpiece of beastliness; a deep, 
	old-fashioned basin, with a crack in it. A cake of 
	household soap, with fingerprints on it. A grubby 
	roller towel.
	The lavatory chain has broken and been replaced with 
	string, to which the original handle - ceramic, 
	inscribed with the legend: Pull - has been reattached. 
	No toilet paper, but, hanging from a loop of string, 
	a number of sheets of the Daily Mail ripped into 
	The bath stands on four clawed feet. Above the bath, 
	a large geyser, the exposed metal of which has turned 
	green, dripping greenish water, the source of the 
	dripping noise. Beside the geyser, a box of matches. 
	MELANIE picks up the matches; puts it down.
	She puts the plug in the washbasin; the basin fills; 
	a long red hair waves out on the water. She puts her 
	hand in the water. She shivers. It is cold. 

	Cut to:

34. 	Interior. Kitchen. Day.

   	The kitchen door opens: FINN comes in, carrying a 
	couple of bottles of milk. He wears his habitual 
	paint-stained trousers, plus an unbuttoned pyjama 
	jacket. He is accompanied by the bull terrier who, 
	barking furiously, leaps up at MELANIE, who has been 
	furtively exploring the kitchen. She jumps. The bull 
	terrier barks and leaps up at her and licks her. She 
	retreats behind the table, which is ready laid for 

	Her hair is in tight plaits again.

		You're the early bird! After the 
		late night you had.
	He clatters the milk bottles down on the table.
		Curled up on the landing like love 
		locked out!
		I did like the music.
		I carried you up to your bed.
 	MELANIE, embarrassed, averts her eyes from his naked 
	breast; her eyes meet those of the painted dog 
	hanging above the mantelpiece. She edges round the 
	table to get a better look at it. The dog winks at 
	her. She jumps again. 

	Now FINN can see she is wearing trousers - black 
	corduroy trousers and a brown polo neck sweater, 
	just what she'd wear for an autumn day at home. She 
	looks gently, youthfully pretty. But FINN is 
	horrified to see the trousers.
		Oh no, no, no! You must go and 
		change your clothes. Now, this 
 	MELANIE turns round, startled, inquiring, scarcely 
	believing her ears.

		He can't abide a woman in trousers. 
		He says a woman in trousers is a 
		sin against nature.
		A sin against what? 

		Slip up and change into a skirt, 
		else he'll create something 
		terrible. Don't you want to make a 
		good impression on your first day? 

	MELANIE pauses with her hand on the doorknob. She is 
	frosty and affronted, but anxious too. She does 
	want to make a good impression.

		Is there anything else I should 
		know about him? 

		Speak when you're spoken to. He 
		likes his women quiet. 

	MELANIE glances at the blackboard. 

	FINN crouches, setting a bowl of chopped meat down 
	for the dog. MELANIE reappears in the doorway, 
	looking mutinous but wearing the same pleated skirt 
	she was wearing the previous night. She used to wear 
	it for school. She no longer looks like a teenager 
	but like a schoolgirl. FINN takes in her appearance.

		I see you've plaited your hair 

	She ignores this.

		I saw his teeth in the bathroom.
		He can take out his smile and keep 
		it on a shelf, but, his bite is
		worse than his bark, isn't that so, 
		old fellow? 

	The bull terrier barks briefly. 

		Mummy was scared of him, I think. 
		He went to her wedding but he was 
		furious, you can see it in the 

		She got away.
	The hands of the cuckoo clock now stand at half past 
	six. The cuckoo clock whirs and emits a stuffed 
	cuckoo. A real cuckoo, stuffed. It goes 'cuckoo' once, 
	then it disappears behind its front door. MELANIE is 
	startled and entranced.

		He made that. In his off hours.
		It's as though he'd trapped a real 
		cuckoo inside. 

		Didn't you know he made things? 

	Melanie shakes her head.
		He's forced to sell the toys, to 
		feed us all. But he keeps the other 
		stuff to entertain himself.

	He looks at her assessingly, comes to a sudden 
	decision, catches hold of her hand and pulls her 
	towards the door. She is startled. 

		Come and see.
 	MELANIE tugs her hand away but goes with him all the 

	Cut to:

35. 	Interior. Toyshop. Day.

   	The parrot sits drowsily on his perch as FINN and 
	MELANIE dash through the toyshop.
		Gooday! Gooday!
		Gooday to you, you old bugger.
 	They disappear down to the workshop. A big doll on 
	the counter turns its head sharply, as if to look 
	after them, or perhaps its head has just fallen 
	forward by chance. A clockwork mouse, its mechanism 
	probably activated by a sudden change in the 
	atmosphere, comes to life and scoots along the 
	counter, squeaking; it falls off and lies on its 
	back, its wheels whirring. 

	Cut to:

36. 	Interior. Workshop. Day.

 	FINN throws a light switch. MELANIE blinks in the 
	sudden light. The basement workshop is a long, white-
	washed room running the entire length of the house. 
	At the far end, a window, caked with grime and 
	cobwebs, gives on to a coal hole; a little daylight 
	could filter in at an angle from an iron grating in 
	the pavement above it.

	Underfoot, on the hard concrete floor, woodshavings.
	A carpenter's bench runs along one wall, covered with 
	a huge variety of pieces of wooden toys and also of 
	limbs and so on in the process of being carpentered. 
	A selection of wood-turning tools, planes etc. A 
	decapitated head, hairless, eyeless, featureless, is 
	immediately noticeable. Next to it, a jar of eyes. 

	There is a painting bench, splattered with paint, 
	holding tins of paint, brushes in jam jars, etc. 
	Above it, a shelf of freshly painted toys waiting to 
	dry. FINN picks up a painted bird and hands it to 
		I'm the sorcerer's apprentice in 
		this establishment.
 	MELANIE takes hold of the bird, caresses it.
		I paint the feathers and the fur 
		and the skin but Himself breathes 
		the life in.
	From the walls hang jumping jacks, dancing bears and 
	bunches of carved painted limbs - arms and legs, also 
	puppets, either fully completed or partially 
	assembled, some almost as tall as MELANIE -- they 
	hang from both walls and from hooks in the ceiling. 
	Some are armless, some legless, some headless, some 
	fully painted with wigs, some only partially painted 
	without wigs. It is a strange sight. Also from the 
	walls hang many brightly coloured masks of wild 
	animals and birds.

	There are also several kinds of curious machines 
	with wheels and pulleys, and other, archaic-looking 
	machines - planes, saws, etc.
	There is also a lot of wood, with a hatchet stuck in 
	it. The atmosphere is that of a toy-maker's shop, in 
	a somewhat sinister fairy story.
	FINN takes her arm and draws her down the room, away 
	from the window, towards a flat, large, box-like 
	construction, hitherto concealed in the murk; it 
	reaches nearly to the ceiling. He flicks a switch in 
	the wall and the lights in the back part of the 
	workroom come on, revealing the theatre. FINN lets go 
	of MELANIE's arm and advances towards it.

	Unbeknown to her, he has donned a mask - the mask of 
	a bird with a fierce beak, a bird of prey. She jumps 
	once again to see it. 

	The bird-man stands before the theatre and bows.
		Ladies and gentlemen, boys and 
		girls, welcome to Flower's 
		Marionette Microcosm.
	He pulls a cord and the curtains open. No scenery 
	except curtains at the back; on the floor of the stage 
	is collapsed, in a tangle of strings, the ballerina 
	doll from the pre-title scene; but the doll is naked, 
	all bare wood and visible joints and dishevelled 
	black wig. MELANIE is upset by this spectacle but 
	tries hard to conceal it. FINN notices, however.

	The bird-man cocks its head to one side; it pulls the 
	cord and closes the theatre curtains again.

		Don't fret. It's only his dream. 
		Dreams aren't catching, not like 
		I didn't know about the puppets. 
		It's a lot to take in, all at once.
	He turns off the light in that part of the workroom. 
	They retreat back to the bunches of dismembered limbs.

	Suddenly, FINN streaks off down the workshop in a 
	series of wonderful cartwheels. MELANIE, amazed, looks 
	up; he lands on the painting bench, takes off the mask 
	with a flourish. She tries to smile but cannot. Her 
	face crumples.
		I want to go home.
			(Heavy irony.) 
		Home is where the heart is.
		I can't go home because there's no 
		home left. 

	A great booming overhead; the gong. MELANIE jumps. 
	FINN is halfway to the stair already.

		Shift yourself, girlie! 

	Cut to:

37. 	Interior. Kitchen landing. Day.

   	A man blocks the head of the stairway, with the light 
	behind him, so only a great block of shadow is 
	visible. He is holding a round watch. The stair 
	lights come on. UNCLE PHILIP is visible, a big, big 
	man, impassive of face, in white shirtsleeves, a 

		Improperly dressed, young Finn.

	He makes as if to aim a blow with the back of his hand 
	at FINN. FINN seizes his jacket from the coat rack, 
	hastily buttons it. PHILIP looks over FINN's shoulder 

		I'm Melanie.
		You're late for breakfast.
 	MELANIE's point-of-view shot through the door, in the 
	kitchen, everybody else - MARGARET, FRANCIE, even 
	VICTORIA -- sit stiffly around the table, waiting, 
	looking like waxworks, in a terrible morning silence. 

	Cut to:
38. 	Interior. Kitchen. Day.

	Breakfast is just coming to an end; knives and forks 
	are being set together on plates greased and curded 
	with bacon and fried eggs. UNCLE PHILIP, a vast, 
	moustached, impressive figure at the head of the table, 
	has a huge white linen napkin tucked into his collar; 
	he seizes this napkin, tears it off, throws it in his 
		This morning's plan of action, is 
		as follows: the big girl to stay 
		with her auntie in the shop, to 
		learn the price of things and where 
		they're kept, the child to stay 
		with them and occupy herself whilst 
		getting into as little trouble as 
		possible and -
 	JONATHON scrapes his chair.
			(Greatly daring.) 
		May I go and work on my boat, 
 	PHILIP casts his eye upon the boat on the mantelpiece.
		That's plastic. You made it from a 
		kit. Not your own creation. Try 
 	JONATHON sits back, shamed. 

		He'll come with me. See how a real 
		craftsman works. Downstairs in five 
 	PHILIP exits. The door slams. FINN lights a cigarette, 
	Sweet Afton.

		He didn't ask our names. 

		He knows your names.
	VICTORIA dissolves in tears. MARGARET cuddles her.

		She's not accustomed to being 
		She'll have to learn.
		What about school? 

	The elder brother and sister exchange troubled looks.

		Too late in the term to start.
 	Cut to:
39. 	Interior. Shop. Day.

  	Montage of selected toys - clockwork toys; painted
	horses on wheels, elaborately dressed dolls; dolls' 
	MARGARET turns the key that sets in motion a cage of 
	clockwork singing birds.

	More toys - a jumping jack, a tambourine. MARGARET 
	produces a wooden model of two men hammering at an 
	anvil. She activates it for VICTORIA. VICTORIA 
	activates it for herself, laughing.
	MELANIE climbs on a chair, to dust the high shelves 
	with a feather duster. A jumping jack hanging from a 
	nail is activated by her activities, or activates 
	itself; at any rate, the grinning wooden figure 
	contrives to hitch her skirt up over her knees. 
	Although there is nobody to spy on her, MELANIE is 

	Cut to:

40. 	Interior. Workroom. Day.

   	PHILIP lifts down the jar of eyes from the shelf and 
	selects a brown one. Holding it in his right hand, he 
	inserts it in the wooden head he holds in his left 
	hand. FINN, at the painting bench, is painting spots 
	on a wooden bird. 

	JONATHON has been sweeping up; he props the broom 
	against the wall.
		Come here, young feller.
 	JONATHON edges towards him. PHILIP puts down the head 
	and picks up a chisel.

		Ever seen one of these?
		No, sir.
		Sir is it? Mark that, young Finn. 
		Here -
 	PHILIP gives JONATHON the chisel. He gestures to the 
	carpenter's bench.
		Here's a bit of wood. Try it!
 	JONATHON nervously attacks a piece of wood with a 
		There. See? Wood's got life in it. 
		Not like plastic.
 	JONATHON gingerly makes his first incision. FINN 
	watches with a touch of irony. The chisel slips and 
	cuts JONATHON a little. He doesn't cry out but says 
	'oh' soundlessly. PHILIP looks smug.
		Butterfingers. Wood's got life in 
		it. Look.
  	He takes hold of the wood and gently touches it with 
	his chisel. It sprouts a twig from the incision; the 
	twig sprouts a leaf. 

	Cut to:

41. 	Interior. Toyshop. Day.

   	The doorbell rings as customer leaves. Next to the 
	blackboard lies the hammering men toy; a hammer has 
	been damaged. MELANIE rings up seven pounds and ten 
	shillings on the till. She looks down at the counter, 
	which is a mass of toys removed from their boxes and 
	tissue paper.
	She starts packing up; she begins with the gigantic 
	and beautiful Noah's ark, with all the animals 
	displayed round about it -- lions, tigers, zebras, 
	kangaroos, etc., two of each.  The ark itself is 
	beautifully and brightly painted, too. She picks up 
	the animals, stows them away inside the ark, smiling 
	and laughing at their charm. Her hands look very big.

	She peeks at the price tag on the mast and is startled 
	to see it reads: 'Seventy five guineas'.
 	PHILIP emerges from the doorway.

		It's a fair price for the work. A 
		man must charge a fair price. 
		That's economics.
 	He walks round the front of the counter.

		And you be careful with them things. 
		They're your bread and butter now.
	He picks up the damaged toy tenderly.
		Did you do this?
		Victoria -
		What? Did you let that child play 
		with one of my toys? I don't like 
		children playing with my toys.
 			(He addresses 
			the broken toy.)
 		Have to fix you up with another 
		hammer, won't we. Give her a 
		saucepan to play with, that'll do.
	Cut to:
42. 	Interior. Bathroom. Night.

   	VICTORIA stands expectantly beside the bath as 
	MARGARET, equipped with a taper, carefully lights the 
	geyser. Bang! VICTORIA squeals, applauds. MELANIE 
	watches. MARGARET turns on the spigot, hot water 
	trickles out. She turns to MELANIE, as if to say: it's 

	MELANIE starts to unbutton VICTORIA's dress.
		Auntie undress me!
 	MARGARET looks at MELANIE with inquiry in her eyes. 
	MELANIE laughing, gets out of the way. 

	Cut to:

43.	Exterior. Front of Toyshop. Day.

   	Close-up a card hanging on the shop door. It reads: 
	'Half day closing, Wednesday'.
	FRANCIE and MARGARET stand at the first-floor window 
	looking out, smiling down at the street below, as FINN 
	and MELANIE, MELANIE in her school raincoat but with 
	her hair flowing down her back, walk off together 
	along the pavement - a considerable amount of pavement 
	between them, but all the same, together. The bull 
	terrier follows them for a little way. 

	FRANCIE and MARGARET turn away from the window, 
	towards one another, still smiling. 

	Cut to:

44. 	Exterior. Park. Day.

   	As woodsy, neglected and romantic a park as may be. 
	Uncared-for bushes and shrubs; tall grass, bracken, 
	FINN takes MELANIE's hand, helps her over a fallen 
	tree-stump blooming with yellow fungi.
		I didn't think London would be like 
	She jumps. A stone Pan, with pipes in hand, is leering 
	at her through the brambles. She drops FINN's hand as 
	if stung.
	The wood is full of statues - dryads, nymphs, Egyptian 
	figures, Victorian philanthropists - any and every 
	kind of statue, overgrown with moss, ivy and lichen, 
	standing among the brambles.

		A hundred years ago, the Queen of 
		England threw a big party and 
		everyone who was still there at 
		cockcrow turned to stone. 

	They pass beneath the boughs of a scrubby tree 
	(hawthorn, covered with red berries) and find 
	themselves on a relatively open hillside, where the 
	mist is gathering. It is already growing dark. Out of 
	the mist and shadows emerges a rococo plinth, daubed 
	with vandals' initials and pierced hearts, etc. The 
	plinth is surrounded by stinging nettles, and bushes 
	and it is empty of its statue.

		Now she's the Queen of the Waste 
	Fallen from the plinth, among the nettles, is a lavish 
	statue of Queen Victoria, broken in two at the waist, 
	overgrown with lichen, muddy. FINN kneels beside the 
	top half, takes out a grubby handkerchief, wipes away 
	some of the mud from Queen Victoria's face. A little 
	stream of water runs out of her eye. 

		She's a fallen woman, poor thing.
	They look extraordinarily lyrical and romantic in the 
	misty park, surrounded by bare trees, the red-haired 
	boy and the dark-haired girl. MELANIE looks at FINN in 
	contemptuous challenge. 

		What are you waiting for?
	FINN kisses her. FINN puts his tongue in her mouth. 
	MELANIE leaps backward. She slaps his face. Hard.

			(Genuinely puzzled.) 
		What was that in aid of? 

		Get away from me...
	She thrusts her hands in her pockets, stamps off 
	across the park.

		You don't know the way home!

	MELANIE tosses her head, strides onwards without a 
	backward look. 

	FINN follows the rapidly departing MELANIE across the 
	field, more slowly, crestfallen. He kicks a tuft of 

		Damn ... damn ...
	Cut to: 

45. 	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Night.

 	MELANIE flings her coat on the bed. She hasn't 
	bothered to turn on the light. She throws herself down 
	on the bed, thrusts her face into the pillow. Her 
	shoulders start to heave.

	She is laughing. She digs Edward Bear out from the 
		Do you think he did it right, 
		Edward Bear? Do you think he knows 
		... how to do it?
 	Having cheered herself up, she now sits up.
	At the heart of one of the roses on the wallpaper, 
	something gleams. 

	Holding the bear, MELANIE leans forward. She sees a 
	hole in the wall. She applies her eye to it.

	MELANIE's point-of-view shot: the two, neat beds. The 
	square of carpet. A chair, with an open fiddle case 
	on it. 

	A painting, hanging on the wall. 

	She squirms, to get a better view.

	Close-up the painting. It is of MELANIE, it is a 
	nude, done with an emblematic stiff chasteness; she 
	is hung about with black hair and has a black ribbon 
	tied round her upper arm. She holds a red apple on 
	the outstretched palm of her hand.

	FINN comes into MELANIE's field of vision, walking on 
	his hands. 

	She gets up soundlessly, pushes the chair against the 
	wall and hangs her cardigan over the back, thus 
	concealing the hole.
	She is half-furious, half-amused, muttering 
	admonitions under her breath.
	Cut to:

46. 	Interior. Kitchen. Day.

 	The bull terrier nudges the kitchen door ajar.
	PHILIP and MARGARET are alone. MARGARET's hair is 
	pinned up. MARGARET wears the same drab black dress 
	she wore in the opening sequence. She bows her neck 
	submissively before PHILIP and he ceremoniously places 
	round her neck the silver collar she wore in the 
	opening sequence. Her head jerks up; the collar is so 
	tight and so constricting she has to hold her head 
	high while she is wearing it. It is a barbaric-
	looking object, studded with precious stones. It looks 
	very old. 

	Cut to:

47. 	Interior. Workshop. Night.

 	A poster advertises 'Performance Tonight'.
	MARGARET descends the ladder last. She wears her black 
	dress and the collar. The children stand in a subdued 
	group, all very neat, clean and smart. Three extra 
	chairs have been provided in front of the theatre, 
	whence emerge bangs and thumps. MARGARET shepherds 
	them to their places. FRANCIE stands in front of the 
	theatre, fiddle under chin.
	FINN emerges from between the curtains tense and 
	preoccupied. He turns off the main lights. Now the 
	workshop is lit only by the footlights of the theatre. 
	FINN ducks back between the curtains.

	FRANCIE tunes up: then waits, fiddle under chin. Bow 
	extended. PHILIP opens the curtains and steps out. He 
	wears a dinner jacket.
		Ladies and gentlemen, boys and 
		girls, welcome.
 	MARGARET applauds; she gestures to JONATHON and 
	MELANIE to applaud. They do so.
		Tonight we celebrate the grand 
		opening of the winter season of 
		Flower's Marionette Microcosm. We 
		present an original drama entitled 
		'An Artist's Passion'.
 	He disappears backwards through the curtains. FRANCIE 
	begins to play something very romantic. 

	Cut to:

48. 	Interior. Theatre. Night. 'Living Statue.'

	FRANCIE is playing beautifully.

	When the curtains open, it is as though a window has 
	opened on to another place - an enchanted place.

	On the stage, it is a night of radiant moonlight. 
	The backcloth is painted with the flowers of a magical 
	garden, the most glorious and unlikely flowers; FINN 
	has had a field day - blue roses the size of cabbages, 
	purple tiger lilies. 

	Centre stage is a cupola, in white, fancy, lace-like 
	ironwork, twined with glorious roses, on which hover 
	a couple of gauzy butterflies. The cupola contains a 
	plinth on which stands the figure of a young woman in 
	a romantic white dress, white stockings, white ballet 
	slippers - a garden nymph out of a ballet; and she is 
	covered in wet white, to simulate marble or plaster. 
	She is a puppet pretending to he a garden statue.
	The only thing wrong with her is, she has no face; it 
	is a blank. Applause over.
	Interior. Auditorium. Night

   	MARGARET applauds furiously. She nudges MELANIE and 
	JONATHON to applaud, too. MELANIE is confused and upset 
	by this faceless girl in the garden but, at MARGARET's 
	urging, she applauds, without enthusiasm.
		Why hasn't the lady got any eyes?
 	MARGARET hurriedly pops a piece of chocolate into 
	VICTORIA's mouth.
 	Interior. Theatre. Night.

   	A young man enters, wearing a white smock and floppy 
	bow tie; he scares the butterflies, they flutter away. 
	He is an artist and carries a big palette in one hand, 
	a paint brush in the other.
			(Out of vision.) 
		The creator adds the last vital 
		tints to his masterpiece.
	The ARTIST is tall enough to be able to pass his hand 
	lightly over the nymph's empty face; when he draws his 
	hand away, she has eyes, nose, a rosebud mouth - all 
	complete. A real face - but everything is still white 
	and stiff; like a death mask.

	The ARTIST dips his brush in the red on his palette 
	and applies the tip of his brush to her lips. Then he 
	stands back. He releases hold of the palette and 
	brush, which whisk off up into the pies. (FINN is 
	operating the artist, whose movements are somewhat 
	clumsier than the nymph's.)

	The face of the nymph and her exposed limbs flood 
	with colour and her eyelashes flutter; but then are 
	still again. She makes no movement. Hand on heart, 
	the ARTIST mimes adoration.
			(Out of view.) 
		How can the Artist transmit life to 
		that which is his own Creation and 
		expresses the very depth of his 
 	The ARTIST takes the statue in his arms, lifts it 
	bodily from the plinth and kisses it on the lips.

	Her eyelids flutter. Her bosom heaves. Her lips part. 
	She awakes. She runs her fingers through her plaster 
	or marble hair - it turns back into black ringlets 
	that she shakes out delightedly. She stretches out 
	her arms, flexes her fingers; she stretches her legs, 
	points her toes.

	The ARTIST sets her down lightly on the ground, to a 
	renewed wave of applause from the auditorium; they 
	begin to dance, an ecstatic pas de deux among the 
	moonlit flowers.
	The gauzy butterflies return.
	Close-up MELANIE watching, childishly sucking her 
	thumb; she is obscurely distressed by this girl in 
	white, in the moonlit garden.
	The pas de deux concludes in a tremendous arabesque 
	for the nymph; there is a tumult of applause. As the 
	applause dies away, the ARTIST turns to his creation 
	and sinks to his knees. He raises his hands; he 
	beseeches her. She hovers en pointe, unsure of his 
	intentions; she retreats, prettily confused. He 

	FRANCIE strikes a moving chord. The ARTIST plucks, 
	out of the air, a golden ring - a big, thick, chunky 
	wedding ring.
 	Interior. Auditorium. Night.

   	MARGARET coughs; she hastily covers her mouth with 
	her hand, revealing her wedding ring.

			(Out of vision.) 
		The Artist offers his creation his 
		heart, his hand, his very being.
	Interior. Theatre. Night.

	The ARTIST offers the nymph the ring.

	She laughs musically. She shakes her head 
	flirtatiously. He rises. He stamps his foot and 
	beseeches again. She shakes her head emphatically, 
	pulls a rose off the pergola and throws it at him.  
	It strikes him in the face. She laughs soundlessly, 
	then runs off and crouches behind the plinth. The 
	ARTIST follows; she darts off, to crouch in a corner 
	of the stage, still laughing.
			(Out of vision.) 
		Each man kills the thing he loves.
	The ARTIST reaches beneath his smock and draws out a 
	knife. The blade of the knife catches the light and 
	flashes. FRANCIE plays a menacing phrase.
	Interior. Auditorium. Night.

	The flashing blade reflects on JONATHON's glasses, 
	that flash with that light, too.

	VICTORIA whimpers and buries her head in MARGARET's 
	lap. MARGARET strokes her hair.
	MELANIE is sitting up very straight, her hands 
	clenched in her lap; her eyes glisten with tension.
 	Interior. Theatre. Night.

   	Knife raised, the ARTIST runs towards the nymph. The 
	nymph mimics fear almost too well: there is a sense 
	of real danger. FRANCIE repeats the menacing phrase.

	The nymph runs around the stage; the ARTIST traps her 
	with his arms. She throws herself at his feet, 
	pleading for mercy. He raises the knife. He brings it 

	Interior. Auditorium. Night.

   	Close-up MELANIE, involuntarily closing her eyes.
 	Interior. Theatre. Night.

			(Out of vision.) 
	The knife, which is perfectly real, perfectly sharp, 
	has, by bizarre accident and FINN's clumsiness - cut 
	through one of the strings that uphold the nymph. 

	What happens next happens in slow motion as the girl 
	turns back into a doll. 

	First, one arm drops to the floor with a dull, wooden 
	thud - the hand splats out and disarticulates.
	She jerks about on her strings; PHILIP is trying to 
	get her away, but her dress is tangled up in the 
	The ARTIST jerks around on his strings; FINN is trying 
	to disentangle the artist - and, in doing so, he 
	slices through another string, so that the other arm
	drops. Then - Bang! The torso; and, as the puppets 
	wrestle, her head falls, too. And shatters. It turns 
	out the head is made of porcelain.

	There are fragments of shattered porcelain all over 
	the stage floor; a pair of blue marbles, the eyes - 
	pearly false teeth - a delicate little ear - masses 
	and masses of silky black hair.
	The ARTIST's arms drop to his sides. He sags forward 
	on his strings, completely inhuman looking, a doll 
	once move.
	From aloft, clear and irrepressible, comes the sound 
	of FINN's laughter. The tension eases immediately; 
	the audience rustles with relief.
 	Interior. Auditorium. Night.

 	MELANIE has opened her eyes, unclenched her fists, 

	VICTORIA removes her head from MARGARET's lap. 

	Then MELANIE's smile is replaced by a look of pure 

	FINN's laughter modulates into a scream. He falls down 
	from the flies, seems to fall endlessly, his long red 
	hair drifting after him as if he were falling through 
	water, somersaulting as he falls.
	He lands with a crash, on top of the dismembered 
	puppet and lies there, looking completely dislocated. 
	The only sound is his terrible sobbing attempt to 
	FRANCIE and MARGARET both knew that something like 
	this was inevitable one day, but are as if transfixed.
	Except that tears flood soundlessly down MELANIE's 
	cheeks. The children are very distressed. VICTORIA 
	wails. JONATHON, jerked into reality, claps his hand 
	to his mouth. MELANIE half-rises.

	MARGARET tries and tries but cannot bend her head 
	down to comfort VICTORIA because of the collar. Tears 
	splash on to VICTORIA's face. MELANIE turns towards 
	them as FRANCIE puts his arm round them both. PHILIP 
	comes on stage, in dinner jacket and bow tie. He is 
	straightening the bow tie. He looks down at prone 
		Won't use him to work the puppets 
 	FINN remains motionless. PHILIP looks out at the 
	audience; suddenly he points to MELANIE.
		I'll use you instead of a puppet, 
	MELANIE is startled but doesn't appreciate fully the 
	implications of this. FRANCIE and MARGARET are 
	horrified and distressed. FINN is the most horrified 
	of all. He moans loudly. He struggles to sit half-
	upright, blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. 
	He collapses again. 
			(almost to himself)
		After all, why shouldn't the girl 
		do something for her keep. God 
		knows she eats enough. She's not 
		too big, she won't be out of scale. 
			(Out loud; firmly.) 
		That's settled.
 	Cut to:
49.	Interior. Girls' room. Night.

   	VICTORIA is having a bad dream; MELANIE is cuddling 
	her in her arms in bed. She wears her cardigan round 
	her shoulders. As VICTORIA quietens down, MELANIE 
	sees a glimmer of candlelight through the hole in the 

	MELANIE settles VICTORIA down and tiptoes to the wall. 
	MELANIE's point-of-view shot: FINN, very pale, lies on 
	the bed, looking like 'The Death of Chatterton'.

	FRANCIE in shirtsleeves has just lit a candle and is 
	cupping the flame with his hand to protect it as it 
	flickers into life. After a moment, FRANCIE dribbles 
	melted wax from the candle on to the floorboards and 
	fixes the candle into it next to FINN's bed.
	FINN's bed is banked by many, many lighted candles. 
	He hasn't moved. FRANCIE, now fully, rather 
	elaborately dressed in his best suit, stands at the 
	foot of the bed, tuning his fiddle.
	We see MELANIE watching through the spy-hole. 

	Cut to:

50. 	Interior. Brothers' bedroom. Night. 

	FRANCIE begins to play.
	At first, FINN does not move. Then he shudders 
	convulsively jerking and twisting. The candle flames 
	shiver, creating grotesque shadows. FRANCIE goes on 
	playing. FINN quietens down, stops struggling, rolls 
	over, knuckling his eyes.
 	The fiddle music comes to an end. 

	Cut to:
51. 	Interior. Kitchen. Day.

   	The entire family are assembled around the table, 
	having tea. PHILIP, especially, is making a hearty 
	meal from the spread - shrimps, a bowl of mustard and 
	cress, bread and butter ... and drinking 
	enthusiastically from his tea cup. 

	MARGARET wears her black dress and the big, heavy, 
	jewelled collar and can only eat with the utmost 
	difficulty. She looks wonderful, beautiful and strange 
	as some pagan deity, but one shrimp alone lies on her 
	plate and she pulls off its whiskers one by one. She 
	tries a swallow of tea, and chokes. FINN darts up, 
	pats her on the back.
	PHILIP watches her, relishing her discomfort.
	MARGARET finishes peeling her shrimp, then slips it to 
		Ain't you having a bite more to eat, 
 	She looks at him with wounded eyes. There is a terrible 
	silence. FINN is deathly pale.
		Pour us more tea, Margaret.
	MARGARET quivering with nerves, slops tea into the 
	saucer of the cup she passes to PHILIP.

		Live with the Irish; live like pigs.

	MARGARET makes a wild, conciliatory gesture that 
	knocks over a cup. It spills tea all over the 
	tablecloth. PHILIP clicks his tongue against his 

		Tut, tut.
		Excuse me.
 	He gets up, limps out, in very bad shape, still. 
	MELANIE watches him leave. Her face is full of 

	Cut to:

52. 	Interior. Toyshop. Day.

   	A very elegant woman, who looks like Barbara Goalen, 
	the great Fifties model, in a winter white-tweed suit 
	and hat, a startling apparition in the cobwebby shop, 
	is having the Noah's Ark packed in a box. 

	She is leaning on a furled umbrella; she looks bored. 
	MELANIE, packing the Noah's Ark, steals the elegant 
	woman a sidelong look; her mother looked like that. 
	The elegant lady does not like to be looked at by 
	MELANIE, who is lank-haired and grubby, in her worn, 
	grubby skirt and sweater, her knee socks, her lace-
	MELANIE ties the string and strikes the cash register 
	with a clang. It shows seventy-five guineas.
 	The lady takes the huge parcel in her arms; she 
	balances on her high heels, opening the door while 
	grubby MELANIE watches ironically. So does the parrot. 
	JONATHON is lurking in the basement doorway, waiting 
	for the lady to be gone, full of suppressed excitement. 

	The doorbell clangs behind her; JONATHON rushes into 
	the shop. He hands MELANIE a beautiful toy boat, not a 
	three-master but a very fashionable sailing boat. He 
	is bursting with pride. MELANIE admires the boat. 

	PHILIP looms up behind them.
		Put it in the window. It ought to 
		fetch at least ten guineas. 

		I'm earning my keep, sir! 

		Not yet, you're not.
	He brushes JONATHON aside and descends into basement. 
	JONATHON lingers, hurt. He picks the boat up, 
	doubtfully. MELANIE scribbles Fifteen Guineas on a 
	price ticket and ties it on to the mast. 

	JONATHON reads the ticket, looks up, smiles at 

	Cut to:

53.	Interior. Kitchen. Night.

   	MELANIE is unfolding lengths of white chiffon from a 
	paper bag on the table. Other paper bags lie on the 
	MARGARET dips into a paper bag, produces an armful of 
	flowers - real flowers, roses and carnations - and 
	throws them over MELANIE. MELANIE spins round and 
	round, unfolding the chiffon, flowers whirling, and 
	emerges in a chiffon tunic, crowned with flowers, her 
	black hair flowing everywhere, laughing. Looking 
	wonderful, and like a Victorian painting of a nymph. 
	In soft focus.
	We see JONATHON standing in the doorway.
		Uncle Philip wants Melanie 
		downstairs straightaway.

	MELANIE comes back into hard focus. The crown of 
	flowers is obviously artificial. MELANIE is sulky.
		Can I keep my shoes on? I'll need my 
		coat to go downstairs, it's freezing 
		away from the fire -
 	Cut to:

54. 	Interior. Workshop. Night.

   	The entire workshop is brightly lit. The curtains of 
	the theatre are open; FINN is onstage, in overalls, 
	surrounded by paints, painting a backcloth showing a 
	brightly coloured sunset over the sea.
	On the carpenter's bench, a big, ominously sheeted 
	shape. PHILIP squats on the floor with a mound of 
	white feathers on a spread sheet before him. He is 
	sorting the feathers into smaller piles. There are 
	feathers and down caught in his moustache.
	MELANIE, flowers in her hair, huddled in her school 
	raincoat, bare feet in sensible shoes stands sullenly 
	in front of him.
	JONATHON goes and stands beside PHILIP. PHILIP ignores 

		Take off that wrap.
	She does so. The only sound is the slap, slap of 
	FINN's paint brush as he fills in an area of the sky.
		You're well built; how old are you?
		Sixteen. Well, nearly sixteen.
		I wanted my Leda to be a little girl. 
		Leda and the swan. See?
 	He gestures towards the sheeted shape on the 
	carpenter's table.

		Big swan, little Leda. But you're a 
		big girl. Do you have periods? 

	MELANIE is aghast. FINN continues painting, but 

		What's that to do with swans?
 	JONATHON moves away from PHILIP, scared, anticipating 

		Keep your mouth shut, Finn. I'll 
		talk to her how I please.
	FINN suspends painting. 

		I can say what I like.
	PHILIP looks at him thoughtfully, stroking his 

		Oh no you can't. Get on with the 

		It's all right, Finn.

	PHILIP looks smugly at FINN. FINN looks mutinous, 
	then defeated. FINN picks up his brush and carries on 

			(To MELANIE.) 
		I suppose you'll do. Turn round. 
			(MELANIE turns round.) 
			(MELANIE smiles.) 
		Not like that. Show your teeth. 
			(MELANIE smiles and 
			shows her teeth.) 
		You've got a bit of a look of your 
		mother. None of your father, thank 
		God. Should have seen his face when 
		I turned up at the wedding. Thought 
		I'd come to drag her away with me. 
		But I knew she was gone for good. 
		You've got a fair bit of your mother 
		in you, though.
	Momentarily, he seems almost sentimental and MELANIE 
	is bewildered, a little scared, but he soon snaps out 
	of it and orders briskly.

		Walk up and down.
	MELANIE clumps up and down in her tunic and her lace-
	up shoes.

		Not very graceful, are you. Finn 
			(FINN looks around.) 
		Teach her how to shift herself.
 			(FINN stops painting, 
			staring at PHILIP.) 
		You used to fancy yourself at the 
		light fantastic. 
			(FINN stares.) 
		Get on with it.
 	MELANIE looks from PHILIP to FINN, puzzled: she 
	starts to move towards the theatre.

		Not down here. You'll spoil the set. 
	He goes back to sorting the feathers. FINN lays his 
	paint brush across the tin of paint.
	Cut to:

55.	Interior. Brothers' bedroom. Night. 

	They are shy and nervous with one another.

	FINN opens a drawer in the chest of drawers, takes out 
	a shell - a beautiful, rosy pink, tropical shell.
		Where did you get that?
	She looks in the drawer. It is crammed with precious 
	shells, lumps of coral, pieces of glittering minerals.

		We brought them with us from over 
		the sea. 

	He sets the shell down on an empty strip of linoleum.

		That's your beach. This is the 
		story. Leda walks by the shore, 
		gathering shells. 
			(He indicates 
			the shell.) 
		Night comes on. She hears the 
		beating of great wings and sees the 
		approach of the swan. She runs away 
		but it bears down and casts her to 
		the ground. Curtain. 

		Is that all?
			(With irony.) 
		Ah, you should see the swan! His 
		masterpiece. Now, walk along the 
		beach and stoop to pick up the 
 	MELANIE takes her shoes off. As she does so, a wave 
	breaks on the linoleum, swishing around the legs of 
	the furniture. 

	Cut to:

56.	Interior. Beach. Dusk.

   	The furniture remains, huge and outlandish, on a 
	desolate expanse of wet sand. MELANIE, watched by 
	FINN, walks along, bends down, retrieves the shell. 
	She is nervous and walks clumsily.
	Neither she nor FINN give any indication they are 
	not still in the bedroom.
		That won't do. Make it flow.

	He walks along the imaginary beach, but he is no 
	longer graceful; he hobbles. He stops short.

		Try again. 

	She walks a little more gracefully. 

		That's a bit better. Now do it 
		again. I'll be the swan.

	She walks gracefully along the imaginary beach. He 
	stands on tiptoe, raising and lowering his arms. He 
	is purposefully grotesque.
		Swish, swish, that's the beating of 
		my wings. When you hear that, you 
		put a spurt on.
	He limps along, beating his arms in the air. She 
	looks behind her, runs a few steps. She can't help 
		He'll turn you out if you don't do 
		what he wants, Melanie! 
			(Sobered, she runs.) 
		You run, you stumble and I bear 
		you to the ground with my enormous 
 	She runs, she stumbles, she falls on the sand, she 
	opens her arms to receive FINN as he does a neatly 
	choreographed dancer's fall on top of her. She 
	welcomes him.
	FINN lies with his face pressed into MELANIE's 
	shoulder, so that we cannot see his expression. His 
	hand lies on the sand. She picks it up, examines it 
	- calloused, paint stained.
	She caresses and kisses the hand, very tenderly. 

	Cut to:

57.	Interior. Brothers' room. Night, as before. 

	FINN has vanished.
	MELANIE slowly sits up, angry, hurt and puzzled. She 
	looks round the room. She looks under the bed. Smoke 
	drifts out of the keyhole of the cupboard. She opens 
	the cupboard door. A suit hangs on a hanger; some 
	white shirts on a shelf on top of the cupboard, his 
	head and body concealed by the clothing. His hand 
	comes out and taps ash on to the floor from his 
	cigarette. MELANIE inspects the soles of his feet.
		Finn, there's a splinter in your 
		left foot. 
		If you don't let me take the 
		splinter out, it will fester.
			(Muffled by clothing.) 
		Go away.
			(A wail.) 
		What did I do wrong?
 	FINN parts the shirts and looks out. He is angry and 
		I won't do it because he wants me 
		to do it, even if I want to do it.
		Do what? 
		Oh, I see. 

		You're only a young thing.
		You're not so old yourself! 

		Living with him put years on me.
	He pulls the shirts together again, hiding himself. 
	The agitation of the coat hangers disturbs the 
	paintings on the top shelf; they slither to the 
 	A formal portrait.
	It shows PHILIP, naked but for his bowler, sitting in 
	the same pose as the white bull terrier in the picture 
	in the kitchen, wearing MARGARET's silver collar round 
	his neck.
	A leash is attached to this collar. MARGARET stands, 
	holding the leash, looking spectacular - brilliant 
	green cloak around her shoulders, on her head, a 
	spiky crown. MELANIE directs a remark at the smoking 
		Wishful thinking.
 	FINN makes no response. She stows the picture away on 
	top of the wardrobe. She picks up another; it is the 
	nude of herself that she only glimpsed through the 
	spy-hole. It remains unfinished.
		You never finished it.
 	FINN parts the shirts again, not angry now, but 
		That was wishful thinking, too.
 	MELANIE touches her own painted breast.
		All the same, I'd like to keep it 
		... in my room ... if you don't mind 
		... There aren't any mirrors in the 
 	FINN looks at her directly and, after a moment, he 

	There is a sudden flurry of rain on the bedroom 

	Distracted from one another, both glance at the 
	window, the incipient tenderness between them 

	Cut to:

58. 	Exterior. Square. Day.

    	It is raining. Rain lashes against the shop window.  
	In the shop window, fireworks are piled in decorative 
	piles: also many more masks than usual are hanging.
	In the square garden, a huge bonfire is under process 
	of construction; chairs, tables etc. stick out from 
	the pile of rubbish.
	Two shouting kids trundle past the window with a limp, 
	floppy guy dragging behind them in an orange box 
	fitted up with pram wheels. They hold newspapers 
	over their heads to keep the rain off.
	PHILIP, rain dripping off the brim of his bowler, 
	crosses the road to reach the shop. The kids accost 
		Penny for the guy, guv -
 	PHILIP brushes past brusquely, jangling the shop-door 
		Mean bastard.
 	Cut to:

59.	Interior. Kitchen. Night.

 	The blackboard reads 'Special performance. Tonight. 
	MELANIE's debut.' 

	Towels are warming over the fireguard. MARGARET 
	removes them. 

	Cut to: 

60.	Interior. Bathroom. Night.

   	MELANIE sits in the bath. She scrubs her elbows 
	vigorously with a nail brush; then she raises her 
	left leg and scrubs the hard skin behind her heel. 
	Then the right leg. Then she plunges right under the 
	water and comes up streaming and gasping. She has 
	brought her portrait with her and propped it against 
	the geyser. She scrutinizes the nude image earnestly 
	- there isn't a hint of her earlier, dreamy self-
	obsession; now she really wants to know what she 
	looks like. The geyser has done its work well. The 
	window has misted up with condensation. 

	MARGARET brings in the towels. She holds a towel open 
	for MELANIE to step into, as if she were a little 
	girl. MELANIE raises herself in the bath; the portrait 
	tips up and tumbles into the water. MELANIE snatches 
	it up; the colours are running, her features are 
	already blurring. She looks up at MARGARET with a 
	frightened face. MARGARET quickly scrawls with her 
	finger in the condensation on the window: '- Silly -' 
	She envelops MELANIE in a towel and rubs her briskly, 
	drying her at the same time, tickling her to make her 

	Cut to:

61.	Interior. Theatre. Night. 

	We are inside the curtains, onstage.
	The stage is heaped with real sand, shells, starfish 
	etc. The backcloth is painted with a lugubrious 
	PHILIP and MELANIE are onstage. She is dressed and 
	ready, with flowers in her long, loose hair. PHILIP 
	nods. He climbs the ladder to the catwalk. 

	MELANIE kicks at the sand with a bare foot. She looks 
	upwards; she sees FINN, foreshortened, squatting on 
	the catwalk above the stage. He does not smile at her. 
	Next to him, resting on the catwalk, is a huge bundle, 
	wrapped in a sheet.
			(Voice over.) 
 	Outside the curtains, FRANCIE begins to play 
	selections from Swan Lake. 

	The stage lights go off leaving a brownish gloom. 
	Then MELANIE is transfixed by a brilliant spotlight; 
	she blinks and jumps.
		Get started!
 	The curtains open but MELANIE can see nothing beyond 
	the stage because of the lights. PHILIP, overhead and 
	unseen coughs. MELANIE spreads out her skirt, bends, 
	picks up a shell, puts it in her skirts.

			(Reciting over.)  
		'Leda gathers shells by the shore 
		in approaching dusk. Little does 
		she know that Almighty Jove has 
		picked her out to be his mate.' 


	Aloft, PHILIP beats on the metal gong which has been 
	transferred above. Startled, MELANIE drops her shell.
		'The sound of thunder announces the 
		presence of the majestic visitant.'
 	Enter the swan, lowered down from above. MELANIE 
	giggles in spite of herself then clamps her hand over 
	her mouth.
	MARGARET smiles, to encourage MELANIE. MARGARET's 
	point-of-view shot: from the audience, it looks as 
	though a beautiful, very stylized swan is descending 
	in a piece of clever stage magic. But, from MELANIE's 
	point-of-view shot, there is no illusion.
	The swan is an egg-shaped sphere, painted white, 
	coated with glued-on feathers. The neck lolls 
	comically. The wings are like those of model 
	aeroplanes, again coated with glued-on feathers. Its 
	black, rubber legs are tucked up underneath it.
	MELANIE remembers to mime astonishment.
	The swan's feet come down and it lands on them with a 
	thud. Its head points towards MELANIE. MELANIE is 
	frozen in her mime of horror; she is fascinated by 
	the ingenuity and vaguely suggestive ugliness of the 
	swan. The swan's wings heat steadily up and down, 
	disturbing MELANIE's hair. A rose blows away.
			(Voice over.) 
		'Leda attempts to flee her heavenly 
		suitor but his beauty and majesty 
		bear her to the ground.'
	The swan's beating wings blow the sand around. 
	MELANIE remembers to run a few steps; she looks back 
	- splat, splat! on its rubber feet; the swan is 
	following her.
	Up above, PHILIP, smiling narrowly, is directing the 
	swan's movements.
		'The innocent girl's thighs tremble. 
		Her loins melt. She falls.'
 	MELANIE's point-of-view shot: a white, monstrous 
	shape is advancing upon her in the floury glare of 
	the spotlight. The light is in her eyes and she 
	cannot see it properly. The swan's head rears up and 
	towards her.
	MELANIE tries to run and falls. The screen is filled 
	with the image of the great, beating wings.
			(Voice over.) 
		'Almighty Jove in the form of a swan 
		wreaks his will.'
 	MELANIE screams. Roaring of the beating wings. No 
	other sound - the music has stopped, no sound from 
	the audience.
 	Cut to:

62.	Interior. Theatre. Night.

   	From aloft, PHILIP is looking down with satisfaction 
	at the girl lying on her back, dress dishevelled, eyes 
	closed. The swan dangles beside her harmlessly, on its 
	strings.  The stage curtains are closed, again. 

	FINN has covered his eyes.
	The applause from the outside begins. MELANIE slowly 
	sits up and looks around.
	FINN looks down from the catwalk as PHILIP, the swan 
	and a shaken MELANIE take a bow. PHILIP puts his arm 
	proudly round the swan. The little audience applauds 


		I didn't like that play.
	MARGARET passes him a toffee. Her eyes do not leave 
	MELANIE, who still looks stunned.
	Close-up MELANIE, looking stunned. 

	Cut to:

63.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Night.

   	A nightlight is burning. VICTORIA is asleep; MELANIE 
	lies still but wakeful, open-eyed unable to sleep. A 
	withered geranium falls off the plant in the window.
	There is a scratching at the door. Renewed scratching. 
	MELANIE sits up.
		Who's there?
			(Voice over. Whisper.) 
		Let me in.
 	MELANIE is visibly relieved.
		The door's not locked.
 	FINN, haggard, sidles in.

		Can I come into bed with you for a 
		little while, I feel terrible.
		Well ... yes. All right. But -
		Ah, come on now!
	He kicks off his shoes. MELANIE moves VICTORIA over 
	to the wall, to make room for FINN.

		Would you mind holding me in your 
		arms for a little while?
		Finn -
		I'm cold.
	She puts her arms round him, clumsily. His teeth are 

		You are cold. Where have you been? 

		I finished it off. 

		You did what? 

	Cut to: 

64. 	Interior. Theatre. Night.

			(Voice over.) 
		I chopped it into little pieces.
	The swan hangs by its strings in the middle of the 
	stage. The scene is lit by a huge, ominous-looking 
	yellow moon; night has arrived on the beach, with 
	moon and stars on the backcloth. The swan looks huge, 
	ugly, ridiculous and malign, with its neck rolling a 
	little from side to side.
	FINN, with one blow from a hatchet, strikes off the 
	head at the base of the neck. It falls to the 
	floorboards which are still covered with sand, where 
	it writhes like a snake.
	FINN stamps on the swan's neck and head, trampling it 
	until it stops writhing. 

	Now the wings open and beat frenziedly, the swan's 
	body agitates itself dreadfully on its strings.
	FINN lops off a wing. It drift to the ground. The 
	other wing beats and beats on the air; he grabs hold 
	of it, lops that one off too.
	The little rubber feet are still going up and down. 
	More and more slowly. 

	FINN raises the hatchet, splits the swan open down 
	the back with a rending sound of chopped wood. The 
	little feet stop moving.
	With one blow of the hatchet, he slices the mutilated 
	swan away from its strings.  It falls to the ground 
	with a thud. 

	FINN, surveying the wreckage, begins to laugh. 

	Cut to:

65.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Night, as before. 

		He'll murder you when he finds out. 

		He'll be looking for another 

		I hope he doesn't pick on Jonathon. 

		Can you move over a wee bit?

	MELANIE gently nudges VICTORIA towards the side of 
	the bed.

		The swan was so ridiculous. All the 
		same, it did scare me.
		Almighty Jove in the shape of a 

	The bed begins to shake. MELANIE rears up.
		Stop it!
		I've got a present for you...
		Finn ...
		In my pocket.
 	He hands her a painted egg, with a pair of naked 
	lovers painted on it in the naive style. MELANIE cups 
	it in her hands, wondering.
		It's a swan's egg.
	He yawns, his eyes close, open again. He smiles at 
	MELANIE. Hesitant at first, she smiles back. They hug. 
	FINN'S eyes close again, he sleeps. MELANIE stows away 
	the egg safe under the bed.
	Close-up MELANIE's face, on the verge of sleep. 

	Cut to:

66.	Interior. JONATHON's bedroom. Night.

   	Close-up JONATHON's glasses, lying on his chair beside 
	the bed. These reflect MELANIE's face.
	MELANIE in her pyjamas, is standing by JONATHON's bed, 
	looking down at him.
	JONATHON stirs and murmurs. JONATHON opens his eyes. 
	JONATHON's point-of-view shot: the room is blurred and 
	myopic. He reaches out for his glasses, puts them on; 
	the image clears.
		I think you should go, now, 
 	Jonathon sits up in bed.
		What do you mean? Run away to sea? 

	A seagull flies in through the bedroom door. JONATHON 
	looks up. 

	Cut to:

67.	Interior. Workshop. Night.

    	The workshop is full of the crash of breakers. The 
	theatre is a square box glowing with light. MELANIE 
	and JONATHON run towards the theatre. JONATHON is 
	fully dressed, MELANIE in pyjamas. The curtains fly 
	open; the light of brilliant day floods into the room 
	from FINN's painted seashore, which transforms itself 
	into a real beach under JONATHON and MELANIE's eyes. 

	LEDA's shell, and a pile of splintered wood and 
	feathers lie on the stage, but they look like silly 
	stage props, now.
	It is brilliant early morning on the beach, now. 

	Cut to:

68.	Exterior. Beach. Day.

   	JONATHON and MELANIE run along the beach until they 
	come to a small rowing boat with a pair of oars ready 
	in the rowlocks beached on the sand. 

	Cut to:

	Exterior. Sea. Day.

   	JONATHON in the rowing boat, sculls out to sea; his 
	blazer bothers him; he slips it off.
	JONATHON's glasses mist over with spray. T'sking with 
	irritation, he snatches them off and throws them into 
	the sea.
   	JONATHON's point-of-view shot: MELANIE, clear and 
	distinct, stands waving on the beach. 

	Cut to:
69. 	Interior. Staircase. Morning.

 	MELANIE, very anxious, races upstairs to JONATHON's 

	Cut to:

70. 	Interior. JONATHON's bedroom. Morning.

   	Window open, curtain flapping; the wind blows through 
	the room. The bed is rumpled and empty. A pair of 
	cracked spectacles trailing a little seaweed lies on 
	the floor.
	MELANIE rushes in and looks round. She sees the 
	spectacles and picks them up. She looks first puzzled, 
	then oddly reassured. 

	Cut to:

71.	Interior. Bathroom. Morning.

   	MELANIE enters, turns on the tap, splashes her face 
	with cold water. As she looks up, she sees PHILIP's 
	tooth glass empty, except for cloudy water. 

	Cut to:

72. 	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Day.

   	FINN is sitting up in bed, smoking meditatively, 
	while VICTORIA attempts not without difficulty, to put 
	on her own sweater. MELANIE comes in, bearing aloft 
	PHILIP's tooth glass. She offers it to him with a 
		Philip's gone and taken his teeth 
		with him.
 	She empties the contents of the tooth glass into the 
	geranium pot.
		I know for a fact he didn't take 
		Jonathon. Jonathon went off by 
 	FINN looks sharply at MELANIE, as if she's stumbled on 
	something important she doesn't understand; MELANIE 
	doesn't notice. VICTORIA has begun to exhibit distress 
	in her struggle with the sweater and MELANIE turns to 
	help her. 

	Cut to:

73.	Interior. Kitchen. Day.

   	Sizzle! MARGARET breaks an egg into a frying pan full 
	of bacon, sausages, black pudding, mushrooms, 
	tomatoes, fried bread.
	FINN, dazzling clean, MELANIE in trousers, her hair 
	loose, and VICTORIA, are taking their places round the
	table where FRANCIE already sits.
		Dammit, I'm going to sit in his 
			(Sudden silence. 
			Concern, even fear.) 
		Don't fret, it can't swallow me up.
	All the same, he sits down with extreme caution. 
	Then, with more confidence, he sets his hands on the 
	arms of the chair, looking patriarchal. MARGARET 
	passes plates heaped with breakfast. All eat hungrily.
		I am seized with a great and 
		glorious notion. 
			(Pause. Inquiring looks.) 
		Let's make today a holiday.  
		Himself being absent.  And the 
		swan destroyed.
	All stop eating, knives and forks in mid-air in some 
	cases. All but MELANIE, who remains composed.

		He chopped it up.
 	She goes on with her breakfast. 

		I shifted it out there. On the 
		bonfire. Tonight it will burn.
 	He puts unusual emphasis on the word 'burn'.

			(With admiration.) 
		You mad bugger.
	FRANCIE, slow reaction, now throws down his knife and 
	fork and claps FINN on the back.

		He chopped it up!

	He chuckles. Then he begins to laugh. VICTORIA, seeing 
	him, is quickly overcome with laughter. FINN laughs. 
	MELANIE, it takes her a little longer time to see the 
	funny side but soon she too laughs.
	MARGARET slowly smiles. Then chuckles. Then we hear a 
	musical sound, cymbalon or celesta. It is her laughter. 
	At the sound of her laughter, the men's voices die 
	away. VICTORIA stops laughing too; she looks solemn 
	and puzzled.
		Go and fetch my silver necklace, 

	VICTORIA, laughing, runs in with the necklace on her 
	head at a rakish angle. MARGARET lifts the necklace 
	from the little girl's head and drops a kiss there. 
	The kitchen window is wide open. With some ceremony, 
	MARGARET goes towards it and throws out the silver 
	necklace. It turns over and over, catching the light 
	and shining. It whirls off, into infinity.

	Cut to:

74.	Interior. Kitchen. Day.

 	Some time later. The bull terrier is lapping Guinness 
	from a saucer. FRANCIE is playing a slow air, MARGARET 
	sits in PHILIP's chair, wearing Cleopatra's gorgeous 
	The room is a mess, breakfast still uncleared and so 
	is lunch - the remains of fish and chips in newspaper.  
	There are several empty bottles of Guinness. 

	VICTORIA, surrounded by the choicest toys from the 
	shop, is asleep on the rag rug, with her head on the 
	sleepy bull terrier. FINN sits in the armchair by the 
	fire. MELANIE sits on the floor at his feet. He is 
	playing with her hair. 

	A rocket goes by outside. Whoosh!
		Somebody couldn't wait until dark.
		Nothing ... You shouldn't have given 
		Victoria that Guinness.
		It was only a mouthful!
		Do you think we should take her up 
		to bed? 

	FINN is galvanised into life.

		Oh yes, I think we should.
	MELANIE dissolves in giggles. The slow air ends. FINN 
	leans forward, puts his finger on MELANIE's lips to 
	quiet her giggling.

	FRANCIE and MARGARET are locked in an embrace. 
	MELANIE's eyes grow huge. FINN draws her to her feet. 

	Cut to:

75.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Day.

   	It is growing dark. FINN tucks VICTORIA into bed. 
	When she stirs, he gives her Edward Bear. She snuggles 
	down again, content. 

	MELANIE sits down on the edge of the bed, brooding. 

	Cut to:
76.	Exterior. Square. Dusk.

 	PHILIP crosses the square; he looks disapprovingly at 
	the bonfire. The swan's head and beak are visible 
	among the sticks and broken chairs but PHILIP does 
	not see them. 

	Cut to:

77.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Dusk.

   	FINN and MELANIE sit on the edge of the bed, not 

		I thought she was fondest of you, 
		because you were the youngest.
		Did you now.
		Surely she is older? 

		What difference does that make?
	MELANIE is hugging her arms round herself, as if 
	she's cold. Whoosh! Another rocket flies past the 

	Cut to:

78.	Exterior. Front of shop. Dusk.

   	PHILIP stares in blank disbelief at the 'closed' sign 
	on the door. He fishes in his pocket, produces an 
	enormous key, starts to unlock the door. 

	Cut to:

79.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Dusk, as before. 

		How long has -

		All the time.
	Whoosh - bang! 

	Cut to:

80. 	Interior. Kitchen. Dusk.

    	There is no light in the kitchen, except for the 
	glowing embers of the fire. PHILIP flicks the switch. 
	He registers shock and horror at the mess. 

	Cut to:

81. 	Interior. Girls' room. Dusk.

   	MELANIE cranes forward to look out of the window.
		All that rain is making it hard for 
		the fire to catch. And I don't see 
		the guy. They haven't put the guy 
		on the bonfire yet.

	FINN approaches her from behind.

			(Sly, yet tender, 
			sexual teasing.) 
		Shall you take all your clothes off 
		now, and I'll finish off your 
 	She dissolves in giggles again, seizes him firmly by 
	the shoulders, thrusts him back on to the bed.
		Careful! Mind the little girl!
	They lie without touching, gazing at one another. 
	They suddenly become serious, even grave, as if 
	deliberating the effects of what they may be about to 

	Cut to:
82. 	Interior. Landing, Dusk.

   	PHILIP's hand lies on the doorknob of the room 
	opposite the kitchen - the master bedroom. It lies 
	for a moment, as if PHILIP is unwilling to open the 
	door and see what it might contain: then he turns the 
	doorknob. The door opens. 

	A beam of unearthly light falls on PHILIP's face, 
	which is a mask of shock and horror. The mask 
	shatters, like glass, as his mouth opens. 

	Cut to:

83.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Dusk.

   	At the sound of a shriek from below, FINN and MELANIE 
	start up from the bed. Crash from below. Such a crash 
	the dangling light bulb dances, flowers fall from the 
	plant. VICTORIA awakes.
	Then bang, crash. Shriek again. FINN hugs the sisters. 
	All cower together on the bed. Crash. 

	Cut to: 

84. 	Interior. The master bedroom. Night.

   	The wedding photograph showing the children's parents 
	and PHILIP falls to the ground from the top of a chest 
	of drawers. Its glass shatters as PHILIP lunges across 
	the room at MARGARET, who darts away from him out on 
	to the landing. 

	MARGARET is screaming. PHILIP tries to follow but 
	FRANCIE makes a flying tackle and brings him to the 
	ground. PHILIP bellows. His bowler hat falls off and 
	rolls across the floor. He reaches inside his coat and 
	produces a chisel. He twists round and threatens 
	FRANCIE with the chisel. 

	Cut to:

85.	Interior. Girls' bedroom. Night.

   	The door flies open; MARGARET stands there. Bodice 
	ripped, hair streaming. She brings with her a huge 
	wind that makes the curtains flap, the bedcovers flap, 
	the windows rattle - the room seems about to take 

	VICTORIA scrambles forward, clutches MARGARET.
		Auntie Margrit, Auntie Margrit...
		Would I part with you, my treasure?
 	She scoops up the little girl. She looks with 
	infinite sorrow at FINN and MELANIE.
		Kiss me before you go.
 	MARGARET kisses him on the mouth; for the first time, 
	we register she is much taller than he. She kisses him 
	in a very formal and stately way. Her hair billows out  
	round them, concealing him for a moment. Then MARGARET  
	kisses MELANIE. We are swept up into the red storm of 
	her hair and let down again. The wind increases in 
	strength. The red storm of hair fills the room. 

	MARGARET and VICTORIA vanish. Literally. When the wind 
	dies down, they are no longer there.
	The noise from downstairs continues unabated. 

	Cut to:

86. 	Interior. Master bedroom. Night.

	FRANCIE, menaced by the chisel, backs away against the 
	bed with its disordered sheets. PHILIP is winded and 
	breathing heavily; FRANCIE, quicker on his feet, 
	manages to rush past him. PHILIP lunges at him and 
	sprawls across the bed.
	Cut to:

87.	Interior. Kitchen. Night.

   	There is now a terrible silence. Devastation, smashed 
	crockery. The cuckoo hangs out of the cuckoo clock, 
	mutilated by a knife; they are bleeding. The table is 
	smashed. The chairs are smashed.

	The bull terrier has leapt up on to the mantelpiece 
	and, as FINN and MELANIE enter, jumps into the 
	portrait of itself and disappears. 

	FINN and MELANIE look round the room and see nobody. 

	Cut to:

88. 	Interior. Workroom. Night.

   	Brandishing the chisel, PHILIP descends into the 
	workroom, in pursuit of FRANCIE.
	The curtains twitch; FRANCIE disappears inside the 
	theatre. The puppets, hanging from their hooks stir 
	and tremble.
	PHILIP, on his way to the theatre, overturns FINN's 
	workbench. Toys, paint tins and brushes fall to the 
	floor. The puppets rattle even more.
 	He strides to the theatre, ignoring the sand 
	crackling under his feet. From inside the theatre 
	comes a mocking phrase of fiddle music. PHILIP roars. 

 	He tears open the curtains. The painted beach is there. 
	The sand and shell are there. But the swan's strings 
	dangle, empty, and below them, is a pile of splinters 
	and feathers.

89.	Interior. Shop. Night.

    	The parrot is free of its chain and is flying round 
	the shop squawking: No sale!
	The shop is in the throes of change; as FINN and 
	MELANIE slip through, a jack-in-the-box pops up and 
	roars with laughter. Dolls stir and titter. The toys 
	are coming to life. FINN and MELANIE go out through 
	the door. The bell jangles for the last time. The 
	parrot flies out above their heads. FINN calls after 
	the parrot: 
		I served my time, and so did you.
 	Cut to:

90.	Interior. Workroom. Night.

    	FRANCIE sits on the catwalk in the flies, fiddle under 
	his chin, looking down at PHILIP, who is stirring the 
	refuse of the swan with his foot. The hatchet lies 
	among a pile of splinters and feathers.
	FRANCIE plays a mocking, ironic phrase on the fiddle. 
	PHILIP looks up at him, and hisses.
		Who touched my swan?
 	FRANCIE plays another mocking ironic phrase. PHILIP 
	lunges for the ladder to the catwalk, trips over the 
	hatchet and thumps on to the stage. 

	There is a rustling and a clicking in the workroom. 
	Slowly, out of the shadows, come the puppets: they 
	descend from their hooks, 'The Artist', the Coppelia 
	doll, some with faces and clothes, many uncompleted, 
	featureless ones. They move towards the theatre, with 
	a clattering, wooden sound. They start to climb up on 
	to the stage.
	PHILIP looks up at a circle of wooden faces, all of 
	which he has created himself.

	FRANCIE strikes up a lively air. The puppets begin to 
	clap in time. The ballerina doll hauls PHILIP to his 
	feet and pushes and prods him into dancing with her. 
	The puppets continue to clap.
	The ballerina whirls PHILIP round in a succession of 
	pirouettes. The music goes faster and faster. The 
	surrounding, clapping puppets whirl into a blur. 

	Cut to:

91. 	Exterior. Square. Night.

   	The bonfire in the square garden is now so big it 
	threatens to topple over. Dozens of children mill 
	round it excitedly, engaged in forming a rough circle 
	round the fire. Amongst the old sofas and floorboards 
	we catch a brief glimpse of a white neck and a yellow 
	FINN is kneeling by the fire with a box of matches in 
	his hand. To the unspoken question of a curious child, 
	he says:

		Me brother's fetching the guy.
 	He lights a match, touches a twist of paper. At 
	another part of the bonfire, MELANIE kneels, too. She 
	strikes her match and touches the bonfire with it; a 
	little flame ripples up.

	The children continue to assemble in a circle round 
	the fire, watching it catch with solemn eyes. FINN 
	and MELANIE retreat until they are together again. 
	Absent-mindedly they hold hands. They are on 
	tenterhooks with anxiety. The circle of children eye 
	them with faint suspicion; the children could easily 
	turn against the two adolescents if they do not keep 
	their promise. FINN and MELANIE peer anxiously at the 
	Behind them, the shop suddenly lights up with 
	brilliant light and all the fireworks in the window go 
	off, bursting through the glass. FRANCIE emerges from 
	the door, carrying a limp puppet, trailing strings. A 
	full size puppet. 

	The puppet is the image of UNCLE PHILIP.
	The children see FRANCIE and start to laugh and cheer. 
	Some break away from the bonfire to take a closer look 
	at FRANCIE's armful, forming a rough and ready 
	procession behind him as he walks towards the fire.

	FRANCIE's fiddle case is lodged precariously under his 
	arm; a child takes it and carries it safely for him. 

	Cut to: 

92. 	Exterior. Square. Night.

   	The children have liberated the toyshop and, as the 
	bonfire dies down, enthusiastically play with hobby 
	horses, masks and dolls from PHILIP's store. There is 
	much noise and laughter.
	FRANCIE stands before the embers, playing the fiddle. 
	His outlines waver; it could he the effect of the 
	heat of the fire. He goes on playing. 

	His outlines waver. He goes on playing. He dissolves. 

	The fiddle remains, suspended in the air, playing 

	Cut to: 

	FINN and MELANIE silhouetted against the blazing 
		I already lost everything once.
		So did I.
		But then I had a brother and a 
		sister left.
		So had I.
		Everything is gone, now. 
		Nothing is left but us.
 	As if both gripped in the same instant by the same 
	revelation, they turn urgently to one another. But 
	freeze before they touch, at the moment at which the 
	movie ends.


Screenplay by Angela Carter