ScriptFrenzy 2011: "Dead and Breakfast", pages 18-25

by Diane Duane



 
(back to pp. 12-17)
 

[scrippet]INT. HARRODS FOOD HALL — DAY

The two of them wander through the place, among the painted tiles and displays of food.

JOY
So if you don’t have family here, or business, why do you stay in London?

GUNTER
I suppose I am the eternal tourist. These people, their lives and surroundings…they fascinate me. I cannot seem to leave.

JOY
These surroundings? They’re a little commercial.

Gives her an appraising look.

GUNTER
True. But there are many places less so.

JOY
So show me someplace uncommercial.

EXT. ST. CLEMENT DANES CHURCH — DAY

The Royal Air Force’s little church in Fleet Street. They ENTER.[/scrippet]

[scrippet]INT. ST. CLEMENT DANES CHURCH — DAY

They walk up the silent center aisle, past the slate tablets carved with the names of RAF units, up to the stained-glass window commemorating the RAF’s war dead.

JOY
What a beautiful place…

GUNTER
Saint Clement Danes is where the Royal Air Force remembers their people who died in the wars. I come here sometimes, to think, and hear the bells.

JOY
Odd kind of place for a young tourist to hang out.

The church’s bells start to RING the hour, the familiar “Oranges and lemons…” nursery tune.

GUNTER
Hear them? “Oranges and lemons, say the bells of Saint Clements…”

JOY
And Dick Whittington heard them and became Lord Mayor, right?

GUNTER
A different story.
(beat)
They fought such a tremendous battle, all those young men, at the start of the great war. But many of the people who remember what they did are dying now… It’s important not to forget.

Joy is troubled by his somberness.

JOY
Did you have relatives who —

GUNTER
No. I simply feel the loss. So many stupid mistakes made then. So much youth and loyalty wasted, so many lives cut short…and maybe it didn’t have to be. All very sad.

JOY
But it’s just history now.

He looks at her sadly, as if not entirely convinced.

GUNTER
You’re right, of course.

They walk out, slowly: not touching: he won’t let her that close. Joy notices: looks thoughtful as she follows him out.

INT. ORMONDE HOTEL — NIGHT

Gunter and Joy go to the desk: Gunter gets his key.

GUNTER
Perhaps we will see each other tomorrow?

JOY
Uh, not tomorrow, there’s some dumb husband-and-wife thing Harry and I have to do at the computer show.
(beat)
Maybe the day after?

GUNTER
That would be delightful. Guten abend, then —

He bows to her again, actually clicking his heels, and heads off. Joy pauses by the front desk to talk to Mrs. Lewisham: then her cellphone RINGS. Joy ANSWERS, and Mrs. Lewisham watches with covert understanding as Joy’s face changes during the call.

JOY
Hello?
(listens)
Oh, hi! Listen, when are you — Oh. No, of course not — no, I’m fine. It’s OK. I went out and — sorry, sure, what time tomorrow? — Fine, I’ll see you then. Yeah. Bye.

She hangs up, DISAPPOINTED.

DORIS
He’s not coming back tonight?

JOY
He has to go to York for a sales meeting. He’ll stay there overnight and come back tomorrow.

DORIS
I’m so sorry. I know how it can be.

JOY
Does Mr. Lewisham have to travel much?

Nervously, Doris starts tidying behind the desk.

DORIS
Oh, no. He’s retired now, you know.

JOY
That must be nice for you, having him around all the time again.

DORIS
Yes, yes of course… it’s hard when they can’t be with you.
(musing, distant look)
Though it could be much worse —

JOY
(just being polite)
Oh? How?

DORIS
(snaps out of it, shocked)
Oh, goodness, excuse me, I’ve got to get the laundry ready…

She hurries off. Joy watches her go, bemused.

INT. ORMONDE HOTEL ROOM — NIGHT

Joy is in pajamas, in bed, pillows punched up behind her. The TV is on; she’s reading another guidebook. An Erickson commercial comes on.

COMMERCIAL ANNOUNCER
Only Erickson brings you so much computing power for your pound. With the world-beating speed of the new Arion ten-fifty processor —

Joy drops the book in exasperation and pitches a pillow at the screen.

JOY
Oh, go away!

She grabs the remote and channel-surfs rapidly through various unacceptable alternatives: news on CNN (all bad), a dull documentary on the BBC, something on ITV that’s dull, something on Carlton that’s dull…

JOY
So much for the land of quality television.
(beat: unhappy)
Oh, Harry…

She chucks the remote onto the table and starts reading again, leaving the TV on.

INT. ORMONDE HOTEL ROOM — NIGHT

Joy is ASLEEP, propped against the pillows, book lying open on her lap. All lights are off except the one on the bedside table. The TV, still on, is showing yet another truly awful infomercial.

A hand reaches into shot and turns the TV off —

Joy WAKES WITH A START and sees George standing in the room…mostly. He’s leaning RIGHT THROUGH THE WALL to shut the TV off — and here he stands caught in the act, literally half-in and half-out of the room.

Joy SCREAMS and pulls the covers up around her in a slightly absurd protective gesture. George flinches, starts to retreat. But then Joy POINTS at him, terrified but now also indignant, like someone catching a pet doing something naughty.

JOY
Don’t you dare move! You stay right where you are!

George does, looking both upset and bemused.

JOY
What are you doing?

GEORGE
Turning off the TV. It wastes energy.

JOY
I mean what are you doing in my room?!

GEORGE
It’s a long story.

JOY
(beginning to get it)
You’re — you’re a ghost! You’re a real English ghost!

GEORGE
I don’t know if ghost is the word.

JOY
Will you please either come in all the way or get out?
(hurried beat)
Never mind “out”, just get in here!

George steps all the way in, abashed.

JOY
You really are a ghost! Oh my gosh –what do I — Do you need me to do something so you can rest?

GEORGE
I am resting. Thirty years, I worked for Bletchley and Coone. You want punishment, try forty years of being a chartered accountant! Hardly any holidays! No pension plan! Now I finally get to relax, and it’s very nice, thank you.

JOY
But you’re dead.

GEORGE
It happens to the best of us.

JOY
But most dead people don’t — stay.

GEORGE
Some do. Hardly anybody notices.

JOY
I guess not. You don’t look transparent or anything.
(suspicious but interested)
What kind of ghost things can you do? Go invisible or something!

GEORGE
You mean turn myself off like a lightbulb? That’s just fairy tales. Some people see us. Some can’t until someone convinces them to. Some never can at all.

JOY
Are there a lot of you?

GEORGE
Here? Twenty rooms… eighteen “ghosts.”

JOY
My gosh. No wonder this place looks so…

GEORGE
“Dead?” Yes.
(beat)
I must say, you’re taking this very well.

Joy jumps up out of bed, throws a robe on over her pajamas.

JOY
No I am not! As soon as I can get in touch with my husband —

GEORGE
(not provocative: just sad)
— and tell him that the hotel is haunted —

Joy stops and looks at him.

JOY
You said “eighteen ghosts”.

GEORGE
You and your husband are the only “live ones” at the moment, yes. Except for my wife.

JOY
Gunter…

GEORGE
Gunter’s been around this neighborhood since August 1940. The bomber he was flying crashed just a few streets from here.

Joy is flabbergasted. Then the reaction turns to anger.

JOY
You just get out of my room. And stay out of my way. I need to have a talk with your wife.
[/scrippet]
 
(to pages 26-31)
 

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5 comments

ScriptFrenzy 2011: “Dead and Breakfast”, pages 26-31 | Diane Duane's weblog: "Out of Ambit" April 8, 2011 - 11:09 am

[…]   (back to pp. 18-25)  […]

Garrett Fitzgerald April 11, 2011 - 8:29 pm

Ooh, now I’m really starting to like this. Think you’ll get a chance to make it?

Diane Duane April 12, 2011 - 9:58 am

I have absolutely no idea. 🙂

Garrett Fitzgerald April 11, 2011 - 8:29 pm

Ooh, now I’m really starting to like this. Think you’ll get a chance to make it?

Comments are closed.

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