London Spy
Page 22
DANNY
Alex was the last person to hold your hand.
FRANCES
(with delicate lethality)
A question?
DANNY
A statement.
Frances casts her mind back --
FRANCES
Yes. Yes he was.
FLASH TO:
EXT. MANSION. GROUNDS. MAZE. DAY (PAST)
Close on Frances’s hand around Alex’s little hand.
They walk side by side through the maze.
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. MANSION. GRAND HALLWAY. NIGHT (PRESENT)
Still holding Frances’s hand Danny moves to his question.
DANNY
You blame me for his death.
FRANCES
(with delicate lethality)
A question?
DANNY
A statement.
FRANCES
Yes. I do.
DANNY
How can you blame me unless you know why he was killed?
Frances takes back her hand. She’s impressed.
FRANCES
It is... a good question.
Danny picks up the research manuscript as though it were vital evidence. He hands it to Frances.
Wanting to see what she’ll do with it.
Frances takes the manuscript.
And without examining it, tosses the papers into the fire. The meaningless numbers burn, turning to ash.
They both watch them burn for a moment. An admission.
Frances stands and pours herself a measure of brandy. She looks to Danny to see if he wants one.
Danny stands, slowly - unsure what the implications are. He joins her but refuses a drink.
DANNY
(changing his mind)
Actually, I will.
She pours him one. They sip.
FRANCES
(without anger)
For all your efforts, all your loss, all your grief. And sacrifice. You have nothing.
The reference to Scottie is tremendously painful.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
You accept that I’m continuing this conversation solely for my own personal reasons?
DANNY
Which are?
FRANCES
It’s very important to me that you understand how much I loved my son.
Danny wonders if she’s quite sane.
DANNY
Show me his room.
Frances doesn’t react.
Danny’s eyes concentrate on the necklace we glimpsed in episode two, which Frances would occasionally and instinctively touch, unaware she was doing so.
Danny reaches out, slowly, carefully towards her neck.
Frances doesn’t flinch.
He takes hold of the silver chain around her neck. He pulls it up, from beneath her shirt, revealing --
An aged silver key.
In a mirroring of the action, Frances reaches out, slowly, towards Danny’s neck.
Danny doesn’t flinch.
She lifts the string from around his neck, pulling from under his shirt the silver cylinder.
The two stand, examining each other’s prized possession. Frances admires the cylinder, proud of its craftsmanship.
Danny’s fingers are on the key --
INT. MANSION. HALLWAY. NIGHT
The silver key slots into a lock.
We’re at a door we’ve never seen before. A corridor we’ve never seen. In near darkness.
Frances, looks at Danny, offering him a last chance.
FRANCES
You’ve always underestimated the task ahead of you. A peculiar strength, as it turns out.
(beat)
If we go inside I cannot promise to know where we’ll end up.
The door unlocks. Danny walks through to --
INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT
A remarkable study.
Across all the walls - floor to ceiling - are blackboards, covered in chalk equations.
Even more notable there are blackboards across the ceiling, also covered in equations.
The writing should be precise and small so that the overall effect is beautiful. Numbers, numbers everywhere.
A desk in the middle of the room - modern, steel, austere. A steel chair in front of it.
On the desk a glass filled with sharp pencils. A stack of papers. Each paper filled with more neat numbers.
In this space, this room, nothing soft. Nothing comfortable. And nothing high tech.
Several ladders, of different lengths, to reach the top of the blackboards. And the ceiling.
Frances is proud and scared of this room.
FRANCES
Alistair spent more time in this room than any other.
Frances walks to the boards, covered with Alex’s writing, his numbers, equations are preserved: we see how precious they are to her. Many years old. A museum to his mind.
With each footstep chalk dust falls from the numbers on the ceiling.
Danny tilts his head upwards, watching the dust fall --
FLASH TO:
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT (PAST)
At night, Danny and Alex are in bed, on their back, looking up at the cracked plaster ceiling --
A light white dust falls due to the sex going on in the room above. Rhythmic vibrations.
Danny finds it ridiculous, embarrassed by the state of his abode. But Alex seems to react differently --
Solemn, he closes his eyes, allowing the dust to settle on his face --
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT (PRESENT)
As the first particles of chalk dust settle on Danny’s face he’s hit by grief & anger.
Moving sharply, he picks up one of the board cleaners, intending to wipe the blackboards clean.
Frances moves swiftly, grabbing his wrist, stopping him.
DANNY
How do you know?
She’s not strong enough to hold his arm. The board cleaner touches the blackboard, Danny begins to wipe, the precious numbers reducing to chalk dust.
DANNY (CONT’D)
How?
More precious numbers disappearing.
FRANCES
(desperate)
Please!
But Danny doesn’t stop.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
Because he’s my spy!
Danny stops. No more numbers destroyed.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
I made him. A spy.
Frances collects herself. She moves away from Danny. And then, composed again:
FRANCES (CONT’D)
I told you that my husband was an important man. An important man, with a second rate mind. We were at Cambridge together. The tutors who recruited him were as blind to my talents as they were to his flaws. None-the-less, in the gentlemen’s club of MI6, Charles flourished. While I was relegated to hosting dinners and cocktail parties for his spies.
FLASH TO:
INT. MANSION. DINING ROOM. NIGHT (PAST)
A grand spy dinner.
From Frances’ point of view, looking out, down the full length of this silver service table.
Servants. Art on the walls. The house in splendour.
At the far end of the table, a distant blur, is Charles.
The men seated either side are discussing, entertaining, some flirting with other men’s wives.
We follow Frances’s glance from man to man, from spy to spy, picking out their gestures, their manner.
One of the men, a heavy drinker, large-set, laughs raucously. Everyone turns to look.
Except for two men who continue their conversation and do not react. Frances notices. No one else does.
INT. MANSION. LIBRARY & HALLWAY. NIGHT (PAST)
Frances’s retreating point of view as she retires from the library crowded with the spies smoking cigars.
Backing out, ignored, her hands close the doors, catching a faint wisp of cigar smoke.
&nb
sp; We remain outside these antique doors staring upwards at the wisp of cigar smoke, listening to the hum of their confidential chatter.
Cigar smoke and chatter. All that we’re privy to.
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT (PRESENT)
Frances toys with a stick of chalk. She cracks it into three uneven chunks. And places them on the steel table.
FRANCES
Three spies at the heart of his organization. And Charles didn’t see them. Worse still, he defended their reputations when suspicions arose. They were men like him, dressed like him, spoke like him, fucked like him. Well, two did, anyway. They were his friends. Agents were lost. Operations compromised. When the three finally defected we were disgraced, removed from the service, exiled from power, left to rot, in this place, guarded night and day by agents for fear that we too might be traitors.
(beat)
I took to drink. For a while. I became promiscuous. For a while. Scandal engulfed me. But it couldn’t go on. Behaving like that. You either step into the abyss. Or step back from it. You cannot walk along its edge for long.
Danny reacts. Frances observes him. They’ve shared this.
FRANCES (CONT’D)
You know this... edge?
DANNY
Yes.
FRANCES
Alex was your step back? He was mine too. I decided to have a child. He’d be my future. My saviour. My second chance. I’d make him the spy I should’ve been. My spy. Made by me.
(beat, upset)
It was a mistake.
Danny considers carefully.
DANNY
Not a lie. Not the truth.
FRANCES
For once your intuition lets you down.
DANNY
(musing)
“You decided to have a child”.
(beat)
Fuck old Charles and see what happens? Not much of a plan, considering how stupid you think he is. But luck was on your side. Your child was a genius?
FRANCES
Be very careful what you say next.
DANNY
I want to tell you a story.
Frances is off balance. Sensing danger.
DANNY (CONT’D)
About a man.
FLASH TO:
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT (PAST)
Late at night.
Danny and Alex are sitting cross-legged on the floor of the darkened bedroom, opposite each other.
The apartment’s quiet. With the giddy zeal of a new couple they’re sharing stories and secrets.
ALEX
While other people were laughing. And drinking. This man would just walk.
EXT. THAMES. SOUTHBANK. DAY (PAST)
Dusk on the river. A warm summer evening. Crowds drinking in bars and restaurants.
Alex walks alone, smartly dressed, as if he were on route to meet a partner or a date.
He appears confident, assured, content.
Alex weaves through, reaching the railings by the river, opening the gate leading to the steps down to the water.
ALEX (V.O.)
Until he reached the exact same spot --
He descends the steps and sits on the lower level with the air of someone who has done this before, looking out at the sunset behind Waterloo Bridge.
Cut off from everyone else. Unapproachable.
ALEX (V.O.)
Where he’d sit, with his back to all those people --
Unseen by those on the promenade, Alex’s melancholy eyes concentrate on the fading sunlight.
ALEX (V.O.)
While he did everything to signal to the world that he wanted to be left alone --
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT (PAST)
Danny opposite Alex.
ALEX
(continuing)
-- more than anything, he hoped someone would understand that what he really wanted, was the exact opposite, and that this ‘someone’ would sit next to him. And strike up a conversation.
(beat)
I was that man. You were that someone.
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT (PRESENT)
Danny has finished telling Alex’s story.
Both Frances and Danny are upset. For once, Frances is unable to fully conceal her emotion.
DANNY
Why was he so lonely?
FRANCES
(weak)
I put too much pressure on him. I made him too important in my life. It was unfair. I realize that now. No child can redeem their parents.
Danny takes out the reassembled family portrait. The messed up vertical strips - Dad. Mum. Danny. Mingled.
DANNY
Hard to connect to people. When you’re not sure how they’re connected to you.
He shows her the family photo. She holds it, perplexed.
DANNY (CONT’D)
For an hour or two I hoped my real parents were real parents.
Danny studies Frances’s reaction. And she understands what he’s talking about but pretends not to.
Danny walks to the door. He leaves the study.
INT. MANSION. CORRIDOR. NIGHT
Danny walking away.
Frances stands in the doorway.
FRANCES
Daniel!
Danny continues walking. Frances follows.
He reaches the stairway and descends.
INT. MANSION. DECAYING KITCHEN. NIGHT
Danny enters the enormous decaying kitchen.
The room is completely dark. Except for a solitary gas ring. A blue circle of light in the corner.
The Nanny sits on a wooden stool, her back to Danny, a pitiful figure, face part illuminated by the blue.
On the gas ring is a saucer: she’s warming some milk. She registers Danny in the room. But does not turn around.
Danny walks forward, reaching the stove, looking down at her. She looks up at him.
And she knows that he knows.
She stands, ashamed, unable to hold his look, stirring the milk, diverting her energy into menial tasks.
NANNY
I was a state, Danny. I didn’t deserve to be his mum.
Frances catches up, entering the kitchen. And assesses in an instant that the secret is out.
The nanny finishes the milk. Pours it into a mug. She puts it down, ready for Danny.
And now takes up a subservient position behind Frances.
The master. And the servant. The two mothers.
FRANCES
Surely you can’t be so conventional as to think there’s only one way to bring up a child? We are both his mother. Neither one less real nor more real than the other. I took care of his mind. She took care of his other needs.
The Nanny seems content with this insane description.
DANNY
He didn’t know?
FRANCES
Of course not.
DANNY
Except he did. Didn’t he? He knew.
FRANCES
On some level... maybe... He was very young when it happened. At the time she was working for me. And stealing. I went to her house, to threaten her with the police if she didn’t return the items.
(remembers)
I’ve never seen anything like it.
FLASH TO:
INT. SQUALID HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY (PAST)
From Frances’s point of view:
The most wretched conditions. Damp & dirt. Empty booze bottles. Heroin paraphernalia. Savage poverty.
And then the sound of a child crying --
INT. SQUALID HOUSE. BEDROOM. DAY (PAST)
A cold bedroom, as wretched as the living room.
Little Alex at the back of the room. Three years old. Eyes red, sniffling, he’s no longer crying.
Instead, at the large three panel window, he draws on the condensation formed because of the cold.
The entire window is filled, not with numbers, but with patterns and shapes. They’
re intricate & self taught.
As beautiful as any church stained-glass window.
INT. SQUALID HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY (PAST)
From Frances’s point of view:
We open a silly children’s colouring book. Instead of blocks of crude crayon colour, we see more remarkable lattice patterns. Mathematical precision.
Not the product of education. An expression of raw genius. Page after page after page.
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. MANSION. KITCHEN. NIGHT (PRESENT)
Frances continues.
FRANCES
If you’d seen him... if you’d seen the conditions... No father. No mother to speak of. She thought the boy disturbed. Damaged by her drink. And drugs. I saw how precious he really was.
(beat)
We came to an arrangement.
DANNY
“An Arrangement?”
FRANCES
I would be the boy’s mother.
For the first time Frances turns to the Nanny. She nods at her and allows her to speak.
NANNY
I’d be his nanny.
Frances turns back to face Danny.
FRANCES
He’d be provided for in every way. Every opportunity. Every comfort.
DANNY
Charles agreed?
FRANCES
He resisted, initially.
(beat)
He was persuaded.
DANNY
You can persuade anyone. Of anything. Can’t you?
Danny stares at the Nanny but she does not look him in the eye, keeping her glance down, at the floor.
No hint of sexual relations between these women.
FRANCES
In this society it’s not enough to be born brilliant.
FLASH TO:
INT. MANSION. ALEX’S BEDROOM. DAY (PAST)
Little Alex’s vast bedroom. With the four poster bed.
He’s dressed for boarding school. Blazer. Tie. Cap.