London Spy
Page 9
FRANCES
Beyond anything you could possibly imagine.
She gently shuts the door.
Danny sits on bed - exhausted.
EXT. MANSION GROUNDS. EVENING
Danny exits the house. Surveys his surroundings.
He spots the man who pretended to be Alex’s father. In fact, he’s the lone groundsman. With the impossible one-man task of trying to keep the savage gardens in order.
He’s now wearing his regular clothes.
Danny sets off, in the opposite direction.
EXT. MANSION GROUNDS. ENTRANCE TO MAZE. EVENING
Danny stands at the entrance to the maze. Before him is a tunnel of hedgerow, entwined with brambles.
Only a smudge of light left in the sky. Danny enters.
EXT. MANSION GROUNDS. MAZE. EVENING
Danny reaches the first junction. He turns. He comes to a brambly dead-end. Danny backtracks --
FLASH TO:
EXT. MANSION GROUNDS. MAZE. DAY (PAST)
Little Alex, running through the maze, his tiny legs moving at speed, turning right and left with the utmost confidence. Navigating it expertly.
The dark passage way brightens, opening out into --
BACK TO:
EXT. MANSION GROUNDS. MAZE. EVENING (PRESENT)
Danny at the centre of the maze, standing before a stone statue - a male statue with arms missing at the elbows, facial features eroded to smooth-anonymity.
Danny reaches out, touching the stump of the statue’s outstretched arms. He turns to the house.
Frances stands at the window of Alistair’s room. Watching Danny. Upon being seen she pulls back.
INT. MANSION. ATTIC ROOM. NIGHT
Danny changing for dinner. He looks at the clean white shirt, picks it up and reconsiders.
INT. MANSION. GRAND STAIRWAY. NIGHT
Danny dressed in a T Shirt - bright, tight, appropriate for a sweaty club. Scruffy jeans. White sneakers.
A wilfully incongruous figure in this mansion.
Passing an antique mirror he regards his reflection. He has doubts. Mustering courage he continues.
INT. MANSION. GROUND FLOOR HALLWAY. NIGHT
Danny arrives at double height doors. He pushes them open and enters --
INT. MANSION. DINING ROOM. NIGHT
This room has not been refurbished. Rotten wood panelling. Cracked floor. Rusted, ancient radiators.
No art on the walls. Just sad shadow marks where paintings once hung. Implication of artwork sold off.
A formal dining table at the centre.
Frances is at one end. Charles at the other. A place is set for Danny in the middle. Candles the only light.
Danny walks to his seat. Every step under scrutiny. Though deliberately dressed as a rebuttal of tradition he finds his entrance awkward, regretting his decision.
Frances is inscrutable. Danny takes his seat.
FRANCES
Did you realize your provocation was infantile before, or after, you opened those doors?
Spot on. And crushing.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Before, I see. And yet you didn’t decide to change?
Danny accepts his miscalculation.
DANNY
Would you like me to?
FRANCES
No. I think, I prefer you like that.
Charles is already eating, fast, slurping, and without pleasure. Something wrong with his demeanour.
The woman who pretended to be Alex’s mum serves Danny food. She wears a sad tatty uniform.
Danny finds her reversed position sad and strange. He’s polite rather than hostile.
DANNY
Thank you.
She studiously avoids meeting his eye. Around Frances the woman is rigid with formality.
Danny peers down at the chipped china plates. The starter is fussy. But not expensive.
FRANCES
Alistair completed that maze, unassisted, three months before his fifth birthday.
DANNY
When did you realize he was so smart?
Frances considers this.
FRANCES
I always knew. Others consider him to be ‘disturbed’. But what they saw as a disturbance of the mind was, in fact, an exceptional gift. However, it’s not enough, in this world, to be born brilliant - you need direction and discipline.
You need someone who reminds you, day after day, never to waste your talent on triviality.
The word ‘triviality’ hangs over Danny.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
How many brilliant minds are out there, right now, rotting in squalor or neglect? It took every ounce of my strength to make Alistair realize his potential. He hated me for it, in the end. You guessed that already?
Danny doesn’t reply. Frances accepts it as confirmation.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Children are often the worst judges of their own destiny.
DANNY
Your son was murdered.
Danny lets the statement sit.
Charles stops eating. Frances stops eating.
DANNY (CONT’D)
The attic was staged.
Suddenly Charles slams a fist against the table, rattling every item of crockery, demanding silence.
Danny’s baffled.
Charles goes back to his food. Head down.
Danny turns to Frances. She’s quite calm.
FRANCES
After dinner perhaps you’ll join me for a drink?
Danny nods. Frances delicately continues eating.
Danny turns, catching the ‘fake mother’ slipping out of the room. She’d been listening to their conversation.
INT. MANSION. DINING ROOM. NIGHT
At the end of dinner Charles throws down his napkin and leaves the table without a good-night.
He exits, throwing open the doors, shuffling into the darkness of his decaying house.
FRANCES
It’s very sad. He was once an important man.
DANNY
What did he do?
FRANCES
He was head of MI6.
She stands.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Shall we?
INT. MANSION. GRAND HALL. NIGHT
Danny and Frances have retired to the Grand Hall. A formal and formidable space.
A fire burns.
Danny is seated in a cracked leather chair. Frances pours him a brandy. She brings it to him.
FRANCES
Your number is 82.
Danny doesn’t understand.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
The sum of the coins you dropped on the ground.
Frances pours herself a large scotch.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
When he was a child Alistair would amuse our guests with a trick --
FLASH TO:
INT. MANSION. GRAND HALL. DAY (PAST)
Five year old Alex sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, eyes upwards as a man throws a shower of coins.
In the air - coppers, silvers - of various face values - rising up, catching the light from the fire.
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. MANSION. GRAND HALL. NIGHT (PRESENT)
Danny is hungry for these glimpses of Alex’s past.
FRANCES
In a glance he could add up all the coins. He’d rarely bother to remember anyone’s name. But he’d never forget their number.
Frances offers Danny a cigarette from a silver box. He accepts. She also takes one. And sits.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
You would’ve been 82.
(considers)
An easy one.
While she smokes Danny merely holds the cigarette, waiting to see how this will play out.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
My son wasn’t gay.
Danny tenses: the cigarette disappears into the palm of his hand.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Before you hold some sort of ‘parade’ through the house, hear me out. My son was
n’t gay. But I wish he had been.
Danny senses a trap. But is unsure of its nature.
Frances speaks with lethal precision that somehow sounds casual, fluid and easy.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Alistair didn’t think like ordinary people. And he didn’t feel the way ordinary people feel. In his eyes everyone was a puzzle. He took immense satisfaction from figuring out what a person wanted and then giving it to them. As if we were all computers waiting for the correct code.
The provocation is subtle. Danny holds his tongue.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Alistair could be anything a person wanted him to be. In your case, it appears that you craved romance. A good-old-fashioned love story. He gave it to you. Meanwhile, he continued giving other kinds of stimulation to other kinds of people. Men and women.
Danny’s finding it harder to control his emotions.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
If he was involved with someone who hankered after risk he will have provided it. Danger. Pain. Submission. Domination. You see, my son was a mirror to the desires of others - completely free of inhibition. How do I know? It was always this way. Alistair was as precocious sexually as he was intellectually. To him, they were one and the same. Sex was just another form of decryption.
Frances speaks without enjoyment or relish.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
You think I’m cruel? Perhaps I am. But not in this instance. I wanted to preserve your illusions. We had hoped you’d go home and mourn in the belief that your relationship was perfect. You loved him, I see that. Your love was real, of course it was. As his mother I appreciate your love for my son. However, I cannot allow you to be unaware of the facts in case you blunder further into a situation you simply do not understand.
Frances finishes her cigarette.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
I’m not surprised he used a different name. He was playing a part - the part of a conventional lover. Ordinary would have been a challenging role for such an extraordinary mind. Soon, he would’ve become bored. Once he was bored he moved on. And he always became bored in the end.
She is quite brilliant. And with a concluding flourish:
FRANCES (CONT’D)
I don’t know what went on in that attic. And, the truth is, neither do you.
Danny broods, taking it all in - overwhelming.
He opens his closed fist and removes the crushed cigarette. He stands, carefully placing it back in the antique silver box.
He sits back down: opposite Frances. Finally he collects his thoughts enough to speak. With a quiet anger.
DANNY
I haven’t read many books. I haven’t been to many places. But I have fucked a lot of people. And there’s one thing you just can’t fake...
(beat)
Inexperience. The body’s tense when it should relax. It hurts when it should be fun. And it’s dirty when it should be clean.
Frances is inscrutable.
DANNY (CONT’D)
I don’t care how smart you are, your muscles don’t lie. I’m talking about feeling his inexperience as clearly as I can feel this glass.
Danny raises the tumbler up, on the palm of his hand. His fingers coil around the glass, forming a fist.
DANNY (CONT’D)
Do you follow me, Frances?
Frances hasn’t moved. Rigid poker face. For the first time since his arrival Danny has her on the back foot.
DANNY (CONT’D)
I can see that you do. So, I know, for a fact, that you’re lying. I know, for a fact, that your son - the man I loved - was a virgin. What I don’t know is why you’re so keen to convince me otherwise.
Danny necks his brandy. Puts the glass down. He stands.
Danny turns his back on her. And Frances is not an easy person to turn your back to.
As he’s walking towards the door --
FRANCES
Daniel?
Danny stops and turns. Frances is standing, staring directly at him. The full force of her eyes on him.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Amongst all the lies told here this weekend recognize one truth -- ‘No fuss’ was the best piece of advice you will ever be given.
DANNY
When he told me you were dead, he wasn’t lying, was he?
She has no reply.
Danny leaves.
INT. MANSION. CORRIDOR. NIGHT
Alone, Danny leans against the wall, steadying himself.
INT. MANSION. ATTIC ROOM. NIGHT
Danny sitting on the edge of the bed. Not even trying to sleep. He waits, looking at the clock.
INT. MANSION. STAIRWAY. NIGHT
Danny descends, barefoot, in the darkness.
INT. MANSION. CORRIDOR. NIGHT
Danny approaches a door, quietly. He opens it.
INT. MANSION. ALEX’S BEDROOM. NIGHT
Danny enters - shutting the door behind him.
He stares at the bed. Surprisingly he climbs into it.
In contrast to the ‘fake’ bed in the hunting lodge, which meant nothing to him, Danny becomes emotional.
INT. MANSION. ALEX’S BEDROOM. MORNING
Danny wakes. He’d fallen asleep in Alex’s bed.
The other side, Alex’s side, is untouched and empty.
INT. MANSION. DINING ROOM. MORNING
Danny enters.
The table is set for breakfast. For one. He sits, alone, in this absurdly formal room.
He can’t take it any more. He stands, leaves.
INT. MANSION. LOWER STAIRWAY. MORNING
Danny follows the sounds of pots and pans to --
INT. MANSION. KITCHEN. MORNING
An enormous kitchen that once made meals for hundreds of guests. Now only a tiny area is being used.
A vast empty larder. Rat bait. Appliances out of date and broken. A losing fight against disarray and decay.
The woman who pretended to be Alex’s mum is preparing Danny’s breakfast. She’s alone.
In a reversal of roles Danny watches her unobserved. Eventually she turns, shocked to see him.
DANNY
I prefer it down here.
Without waiting for permission he sits at the table. She’s nervous. He’s deviating from plans.
NANNY
She won’t like it.
DANNY
No. I don’t think she will.
She reluctantly allows him to remain there, readying his breakfast. Danny ponders and speculates.
DANNY (CONT’D)
You cared about him?
She tries not to react but now we realize why she was largely silent in the hunting lodge. She’s a lousy actress, a rotten liar, and she hated playing the part.
Danny sees the gap opening. And he takes it.
DANNY (CONT’D)
You cared for him?
Danny‘s intuition is exceptional. And he’s so easy to talk to. Good at inspiring confidential conversation.
DANNY (CONT’D)
When he had a problem, he came to you - didn’t he?
(points upstairs)
Not her?
The nanny has stopped cooking altogether. Eggs and bacon blacken and burn behind her. She allows them to.
DANNY (CONT’D)
You loved him?
Her lips tremble with a desire to speak.
NANNY
Alex.
Danny stands.
DANNY
Alex?
She nods. A stunned moment. Then happiness and relief.
NANNY
He hated the name Alistair.
DANNY
What happened here?
NANNY
Get as far away from these people as you can.
Danny’s about to speak when --
The groundsman enters.
The nanny radically adjusts her interaction with Danny from confessional to functional - serving breakfast. Much of it burnt. Her guard is up. Her face impassive.
NANNY (CONT’D)
He insisted.
Her movements are clumsy with nerves.
She’s afraid.
Danny obliges her performance, mechanically eating the burnt eggs and bacon.
The groundsman watches the two of them.
EXT. MANSION. DRIVE. MORNING
Bag over his shoulder, Danny approaching a small beat up car, not the vintage vehicle.
Neither Frances nor Charles are there to say goodbye. Or the nanny. Just the groundsman.
Danny looks back at the many gloomy windows. No one is standing in any of them.
INT/EXT. CAR / MANSION. MORNING
Danny in the cramped back seat. Groundsman in the front. Danny catches a glance in the rear view mirror.
EXT. RURAL TRAIN STATION PLATFORM. MORNING
The groundsman gives Danny a new set of tickets.
He leaves. Danny watches him go.
INT. MANCHESTER TRAIN STATION. PLATFORM. DAY
Danny walks the length of the busy platform. The Intercity train is full. A ruckus of passengers.
Reaching his designated carriage a weary Danny boards.
INT. INTERCITY TRAIN. CARRIAGE / STATION. DAY
His carriage is empty.
Every seat is reserved. Paper slips stick out from the seat tops. As yet no one sitting in any of them.
Checking his ticket, Danny finds his seat. Part of an arrangement of four. By the window.
INT. INTERCITY TRAIN CARRIAGE / STATION DAY
Danny resting against the window.
The train pulls out.
It dawns on him that he’s still the only person in the carriage. He stands, curious.
The adjacent carriages are completely full.
INT/EXT. INTERCITY TRAIN CARRIAGE / COUNTRY. DAY
A ticket inspector enters the carriage. Apparently also surprised that the carriage is empty.
He checks some of the reservations slips, finding nothing amiss. Danny assesses the man carefully.
The Inspector’s uniform is suitably drab. Shoes scuffed.