A WOMAN FOR ALL REASONS
BY PAUL CHANDLER AND NICK GOODMAN
EPISODE EIGHT: I HEARD A RUMOUR...
BY NICK GOODMAN
MAIN CHARACTERS
MATTHEW - AN ASSISTANT LIBRARIAN
BOB - A DEPUTY THEATRE MANAGER
DEBS - BOB'S WIFE
AUNTIE ALICE - DEB'S AUNT
EMILY - SENIOR LIBRARY CLERK
KIRSTEN - LIBRARY CLERK
OTHER CHARACTERS - TO BE UPDATED SOON
THE STORY SO FAR:
MATT IS TRYING TO HELP HIS BEST FRIEND, BOB, THROUGH A WRITER'S BLOCK - INVOLVING HIM IN A LOCAL MYSTERY INVOLVING AN INHABITANT WHO APPEARS TO BE OVER-150 YEARS OLD... THEY BEGIN TO PIECE TOGETHER A NUMBER OF CLUES BY SPEAKING TO A RATHER ECCENTRIC LIBRARIAN CALLED EMILY - MEANWHILE, BOB'S WIFE - DEBS - ISN'T COPING SO WELL WITH HER HUSBAND GALLIVANTING AROUND THE TOWN AT ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT AND SHE HAS CONFIDED HER CONCERNS TO HER TRUSTY AUNT ALICE... MUCH TO DEBS'S DISMAY ALICE TAKES A FAR DEEPER INTEREST IN THE WHOLE MATTER THAN HAD BEEN EXPECTED - TRACING BOB AND MATT'S FOOTSTEPS TO TRY AND DISCOVER WHAT EXACTLY THEY HAVE BEEN UP TO!
SC. 23. DEB'S LIVING ROOM, DAY
(It is morning at long last. Deb is slumped in a chair asleep, so tired she never made it to bed. Alice enters in a dressing gown, fresh as a posy and holding a cup of tea which she offers to Deb. She shakes her niece awake with her free hand)
ALICE: Wakey, wakey, sleepy bunny. I've brought you a cuppa.
DEB: (Stirring, stretching) uh wah! What time is it?
ALICE: 7 O'clock.
DEB: Oh Aunty, I've only been asleep two hours!
ALICE: We've work to do.
DEB: Oh dear, have we?
ALICE: My grey matter has been buzzing after last night.
DEB: (Hugging a pillow) It’s like a bad dream We should never have got involved!
ALICE: There are still questions to be answered. Where do you keep your laptop?
DEB: (Without looking up) Oh is that all, I could have told you that any time. It’s in the cupboard by the telly. What are you doing?
ALICE: That message. We must decode it. I have the oddest feeling if the police haven't finished with us, neither have other people.
(Matt enters in a dressing gown, half asleep)
DEB: Oh Matt, be a love and make us some breakfast. Bacon and eggs? It’s all in the fridge.
MATT: Yes me lady!
(Matt walks sleepily
back out to the kitchen. He and Bob pass, barely aware of each other. He too is
zonked)
ALICE: (Reaching into the cupboard and pulling out the laptop) Bob, spare room. Deb still has a Girl Guide book I gave her
(Looking at Deb)
At least I think you have.
(Debs nods)
Please can you go and get it.
BOB: Whatever for?
ALICE: (Sitting at the table and switching on the laptop) You’ll see.
(Bob stumbles off)
DEB: “Whatever for?” would be my question too!
ALICE: (Impatiently, signing in) Morse code. It’s from the same time as our friend Miss Walsh.
DEB: (Moving closer) Did you know her?
ALICE: Mmm?
DEB: Aunty, you seem to be throwing yourself into this mystery. When you talked to that crystal set that send CB curly wurly...
ALICE: Yes?
DEB: Well, you seemed to know who you were talking to.
ALICE: (Feigning innocence) Did I?
(Alice turns back to the computer as she logs on)
Well I'm like that. I'm well-disposed to people. Even the great disembodied.
(Bob enters with a moth-eaten Girl Guiding book and place sit on the table)
BOB: There it is. I don't know why, but there is it.
ALICE: Splendid. It’s for Morse Code.
BOB: But are you sure it was?
ALICE: (Holding up fingers in the Girl Guide salute) What do you think?
DEB: Is the Internet on, love?
BOB: It's never off, you make sure of that.
DEB: Good isn’t it? That Aunty and I are helping with your mystery.
BOB: Actually Deb, to tell you the truth..
ALICE: Yes...
BOB: Nothing. I'll just check Facebook on my phone
DEB: Matt is making us all a spot of breakfast. (Stretching) Can we put the news on, Aunty?
ALICE: (Staring hard at the laptop screen) No! I need absolute quiet to concentrate. Now, with luck, my email will have come through.
BOB: (Looking up) Email?
DEB: Yes. I did tell you last night. Before we were herded away. Aunty emailed herself the sound file to her Google account then deleted the original.
BOB: Ah, we hoped you'd do something like that.
ALICE: Then we must delete this version after we decoded it.
BOB: Because of the police?
ALICE: I think they will be licking their wounds after last night. Contrary to popular belief, they do need a valid reason to burst in.
BOB: So we're safe.
ALICE: No one is safe online any more. Security, Malaware, the whole boiling lot. I get the distinct impression there is someone very clever on our trail.
DEB: Who?
ALICE: Well, I wouldn’t trust that madam Emily. Bit tool sharp for her own good that one. I'd like to know what's she up to.
BOB: We’re way ahead of her, that's for sure.
DEB: I wonder.
ALICE: (Reaching here emails and opening them) Here we are.
(Clicking the vital email)
Sound file. It’s okay. Now Deb, I need something to write with.
BOB: (Passing Alice a pen) Allow me!
(Alice takes the pen and clicks in)
ALICE: Right, total silence whilst I listen
(The audio file sounds out. There is a crackle and oscillation and the sound of a Morse beat can be heard. Alice scribbles down what she hears, referencing the book. There is a notification sound alert from Bob’s phone. Alice hisses as she writes. A few seconds later, Matt drops something hot in the kitchen and expletives can be heard. Alice mutters “Silence” under her breath. The message continues for several minutes. Then it stops. Alice scans through what she has read and double checks with her Guide book)
BOB: (To Deb) Can we talk yet?
ALICE: (Absorbed by her work) No, I’ll say when.
(Deb and Bob exchange “That told us” looks and Alice studies what she has put down. More mobile notification alerts sound out)
Bob!
BOB: I can’t help it! The world and his wife seem to have sent me a message. I’ll put it on silent.
(Matt comes through the door with cooked breakfast)
MATT: Come and get it!
(Everyone shushes Matt, who shrugs and put the plates on the table)
Well, I’m starting.
(Bob and Deb move to the table and start to eat, all the time watching Alice. She eventually turns, her face creased in thought)
ALICE: Okay, it goes something like this…”…Why else would I be doing this. I am the life blood and the pulse. I need you. Lots of eyes but not many hearts. Everyone wants but not many give. I am reaching. The way is fuzzy. Who is that man? What does he want? Lead. Follow. There is a world to hold together. Above all, avoid…”
(There is a stunned silence)
DEB: Avoid what?
ALICE: That’s when Madam arrived with the police.
(More thoughtful faces)
Well, leave some brekkers for me.
(Alice joins them at the table. A curious Bob is checking Facebook on his phone)
DEB: Bob! Manners! Can’t you just eat!
BOB: Sorry I just want to see who needs me so badly (Checking) Friend request! Dozens of them! Who are these people? Never heard of them. There aren’t even any mutual friends. Do I know a Georgio?
SC. 24. REFERENCE LIBRARY, DAY
(Back to the library. Emily is sat at her desk, glaring at her computer, very tired and very fed up. She mutters to herself and hops between Goggle and social media. Neville, head librarian, pops his head round the door of his office. He is a non-descript, worried looking man in his early fifties)
NEVILLE: Emily, you’re not using Facebook again. I want that cataloguing finished today. You’ve had three weeks.
EMILY: (Without looking up) That’s why Kirsten was seconded to us.
NEVILLE: (Closing his eyes) Not quite.
EMILY: Well why else is she with us?
NEVILLE: (Tightly) She is supposed to be doing all the tasks that haven’t been attended to since…since you’ve been promoted!
EMILY: (A little too hotly and a little too loudly) Look, this is important. There is something I’m missing!
NEVILLE: (Raising an eyebrow) Research?
EMILY: Yes, if you like!
(Many of the silent readers sshhh Emily. But one or two remain looking at her, a look of curious recognition coming over them)
NEVILLE: I’ll leave you to it.
(Neville disappears into his office. Emily looks at two simultaneously displayed screens, one to the other in mounting bafflement, alarm and frustration. She fails to notice a figure enter the library: shades, raincoat, trilby, trying and failing to look inconspicuous. The figure moves stealthily around the wall of the room until it reaches Emily’s desk. It then ducks down under her desk and shuffles to towards her. Only then does she notice it)
EMILY: Can I help you?
(The figure hurriedly removes its sunglasses. He is an arrogant looking, finely boned man in his mid-20s. Emily recognises him instantly and warms into a smug smile)
MAN: (Harsh whisper) It’s me!!
EMILY: Well, well, well! So you’ve got interested in reading again have you?
MAN: You’ve got to help me!
EMILY: You ran away remember. Not up to it. It was all too freaky.
MAN: This is different, my whole world has gone mad!
EMILY: Go and read something. I’m not interested!
MAN: I’ve had death threats!!
EMILY: (Interested, despite herself) Really? Why?
MAN: People know I’m involved. Or was involved. They know everything about me!
EMILY: What are you babbling about?
MAN: Death threats from the parents of girls I’ve worked with.
(Emily ducks under the desk and the two confront face to face on haunches, talking in arch whispers)
EMILY: Girls? Oh you mean your filmic exploits. I know about that.
MAN: How for Pete’s sake?
EMILY: Too freaky was it? In too deep? I don’t think so. The police had you by the balls over your films. That’s why you got out.
MAN: But how did you find out about that?
EMILY: Kirsten told me.
MAN: And who is Kirsten?
EMILY: If you take so little interest in your groomed stars, its little wonder their parents aren’t happy!
MAN: What does she look like?
EMILY: Shortish, spiky hair, Kiss T shirt
MAN: Oh yes. Right snotty cow. Mind you, get that T-shirt off and…
(Emily slaps the man)
EMILY: Far too much data. What are you doing here?
MAN: How did all this get out? I didn’t say anything. Did you? What did Kirsten do, go to the paper???
EMILY: Don’t be a fool. She only told me to score a point off me. She’s like that. She certainly wasn’t proud of it.
MAN: Oh… so what’s going on? People seem to know about the films. The wrong kind of people. They know I was involved in the Walsh hunt. What has happened?
EMILY: (Letting go the smug for a moment) I don’t know. I’ve had a stream of messages about it too. A select number of people seem to know all about us.
MAN: Oh hell, what am I going to do? I’m the Marquis of Hamilton. I can’t have death threats!
EMILY: Pull yourself together, man!
MARQUIS: What’s happened to us?
EMILY: Somehow we seem to have become online stars. (Moving closer) Our live are known. Someone is watching us.
MARQUIS: Has anyone ever told you, you have a lovely complexion.
(Emily slaps the Marquis and hold him by the chin like a Victorian urchin)
EMILY: You can leave that at the door. Now listen, I can get you out of this. It’s lucky for you I need friends right now.
MARQUIS: But you got me into this!
EMILY: The death threats would have happened anyway. You’re randy and careless. You thought with your knob and now someone has got hold of it. You are going to do as I say. You are going to sell your soul to me. You are going to man up!
MARQUIS: I’m surprised you haven’t got someone else helping you.
EMILY: There were two of them. They were coming along nicely. Then a wife got involved. Worst still an aunt got involved.
MARQUIS: Never a good idea.
EMILY: They cocked everything up and got away with information I needed.
MARQUIS: What do you want?
EMILY: I want it back.
MARQUIS: Just like that?
EMILY: Just like that, your Grace. You’ve got my number?
MARQUIS: Of course (Checking a pocket diary) Ah no.
(Emily scribbles down her number on a Post-It and thrusts it into the Marquis’ top pocket)
EMILY: I’m disappointed, your Grace. You’ve got to learn to treat women with respect. Starting with Miss Walsh. Now go to it.
(The Marquis goes to leave then Emily pulls him back)
We can turn this round very nicely. Give the public what they want.
MARQUIS: (Head in hands) Don’t say that word “public”.
(The Marquis gets up from under the desk, hastily puts his shades back on and makes urgently for the door. Emily also rises from under the desk and relaxes. She faces a middle aged woman at the desk who has been waiting for ages for attention)
EMILY: Yes, can I help you?
WOMAN: I’m trying to return this book but the check-in doesn’t work.
EMILY: What makes you say that?
WOMAN: There was no bleep when I put the book under the scanner.
EMILY: Oh you’ve brought it back haven’t you? Just go “Bleep”.
(The woman looks nonplussed. Emily bursts out laughing, enthused by her change of fortune)
Can you believe him? What is he going to do? That was the Marquis of Hamilton, you know.
(Raising her voice to the room in general)
And I know you know!
(To the woman)
Bleep?
WOMAN: (Utterly bewildered) Bleep.
SC. 25. PLAY-ALL-DAY NURSERY. DAY
(The once proud Rook
Theatre is now a day centre for pre-school children. Its doors are open and
children with their parents are walking in. Its Victorian architecture now
looks bizarre with a brightly coloured and sterile interior environment. Just
outside the front door is a large oak tree. A bedraggled CB and Darcy lie
asleep underneath it. As they pass, some of the parents look on in distain,
some with amusement. CB’s slumped form is gently nudged by a tiny hand. CB
stirs and wakes. Standing over him is Chloe, a happy looking four year old
girl. Standing behind her is Miss Jameson, a perky nursery teacher, who hands
Chloe a bowl of hot porridge.)
MISS JAMESON: (To Chloe) Go on Chloe, don’t be shy.
CHLOE: (To CB) Good morning. Would you like some breakfast?
(CB groggily raises himself on one arm, taking in his observers)
CB: Breakfast? Oh er yes. Thank you.
(CB takes the bowl)
Who are you then?
CHLOE: (after a few shy seconds) Chloe.
MISS JAMESON: (To CB) That’s confidential. You don’t need to know that.
CB: (To Miss Jameson) Don’t I? (To Chloe) To hell with conversation then, eh Chloe. Not to mention “Don’t talk to strangers!”
(CB pokes Darcy awake)
(To Darcy) Oi come on you, we’re being fed!
(Darcy wakes with even more disorientation)
MISS JAMESON: (To CB) Enjoy your nutritious meal, sir. After you’ve finished, just pop in, I have a few forms for you to fill in.
(Miss Jameson ushers a giggling Chloe away and they both go indoors).
(CB digs into his porridge with the provided spoon while Darcy levers himself up)
DARCY: What happened?
CB: You already told me. The Tories closed it down.
DARCY: No I mean last night?
CB: I think we had a noglet too much under this tree in the wee small hours.
DARCY: How undignified!
CB: Never mind, they fed us. That was Chloe, you know.
DARCY: What is it?
CB: Porridge.
DARCY: Revolting.
CB: Too damn working class for you. And I thought actors worried where the next meal was coming from!
DARCY: Lidls I expect. Why give us brekkers?
CB: (Scoffing porridge) Look, it might have been closed down by greedy capitalists but these days it’s been colonised by do-gooders.
(CB finishes his porridge and places the spoon in the empty bowl)
But never mind about that. We have a job to do.
DARCY: What?
CB: That plaque, man. You said it was in this building (Pointing at the nursery)
DARCY: Well I suppose it still is. But won’t it look dodgy if we just waltzed in?
CB : (Getting to his feet, dusting himself off) Ah no, “Miss” has invited us in. Something about forms to fill in.
DARCY: Probably some security crap.
CB: Receipt of porridge. That’s our ticket in.
(Helping Darcy up, CB makes for the front entrance. Darcy follows behind him. They wade through arriving children. A slight bend past the main entrance brings them to the old ticket office. Only its Victorian facia remains. Inside the office are dozens of coloured inflatable balls. Darcy reacts in shock)
DARCY: Sacrilege!!
CB: Helium more like.
DARCY: Poor Jack would turn in his grave.
CB: Well he certainly wouldn’t be able to sit anywhere. Now where’s the plaque?
DARCY: Every season we would come up to Jack at this desk and ask him what’s on this season. What can we go for?
CB: So?
DARCY: If we liked it, we would kiss the nearest performer.
CB: Jack remained firmly behind the glass I take it.
DARCY: Her never left his station. But if we didn’t like what was on offer, we turned at spat behind us – it was a kind of actors’ ritual - and the plaque was put where we spat!
CB: Quite charming. So that means it’s behind us.
(They turn. Behind them is the plaque at knee level. Unfortunately it is obscured by a boy of three chatting animatedly to an unseen companion. Language unknown)
I didn’t expect a queue.
(Miss Jameson trots towards them, clipboard in hand)
MISS JAMESON: Coooee! I’ve got the forms.
CB: (Taking the clipboard and studying the forms attached to it) Oh good. Tell me (Pointing to the boy) Can anyone join in this conversation?
MISS JAMESON: That’s Christopher and his imaginary friend. They seem to like that corner.
DARCY: Christopher or his friend? You encourage imaginary friends?
MISS JAMESON: Oh yes. It increases their social skills.
CB: (Reading the forms) Tell me, do imaginary friends have to be safe-guard checked these days?
MISS JAMESON: There’s no need to be facetious!
CB: You may laugh (Pausing only to look at a not-laughing Miss Jameson) ..but give it time! (Looking closer at form) It says here we are persons of no fixed abode!
MISS JAMESON: Yes?
DARCY: Homeless?
MISS JAMESON: Yes?
CB: (With disgusted resignation) Oh well, we might as well be, the pair of us. What is this by the way?
MISS JAMESON: (Proudly) It’s part of Chloe’s Citizenship Merit Profile.
CB: For the love of Gertrude! She can only be about four!! Does she understand a word of that?
MISS JAMESON: That’s not really the point is it?
(A gushing young mother suddenly comes up to CB)
MUM: I thought you were wonderful last night. You were so dominant in the pub. Can’t wait to see what happens next!
(Darcy and Miss Jameson look on amazed. The Mum dances away down the corridor, chatting excitedly to her child)
DARCY: Well you’re a dark horse. You were wonderful last night, were you?
CB: I was not! I was humiliated, dirtied and with my feet in a bucket. You were there! I’ve never seen that woman before in my life!
(Miss Jameson takes the completed form on its clipboard from CB, looking unsure of herself)
MISS JAMESON: Well I mustn’t detain you.
(Miss Jameson taps Christopher on the shoulder and ushers him away)
Come along Christopher, you’ll see Miss Walsh at break time.
(Christopher waves to his invisible friend and allows himself to be led away down the corridor with Miss Jameson. CB and Darcy exchange “Oooh that was a clue” looks then dash for the vacated corner. CB takes out an eye glass and examines the plaque)
CB: (Reading) “Constance Louisa Patience Walsh. Patron and mother to the Arts, owner of the Rook Theatre.
(To Darcy) She owned you, Darcy!
(Back to plaque) Your legacy feeds the soul and cheers the intellect”. Bit florid isn’t it.
(Swinging round on Darcy)
Dates! There are no bloody dates. You’ve wasted my time!
DARCY: Now wait a minute
(Marching up the plaque and examining it)
This is new one! Someone has changed it!
CB: What do you mean?
DARCY: Look at it! I’d say this was no more than ten years old.
CB: So the other one was scrapped?
DARCY: Don’t look at me. I’ve not seen this gaff since the 80s.
CB: (Getting up in haste) Let’s get out of here. We have some council heads to knock together.
(As the two turn, they face Kirsten, looking astonished at them. She is not the bored, despondent or aggressive Kirsten as before. She is serious and self-conscious. At her heels is a boy toddler)
KIRSTEN: Oh it’s you. Hello.
CB: Young Kirsten. What brings you here?
KIRSTEN: Well (Looking down at the boy) I have a two year old. Emily doesn’t know. She’d get funny with me. You don’t know her. She’d be a cow about it.
DARCY: Our lips are sealed young lady.
KIRSTEN: Promise you won’t tell? What brings you here?
CB: (Pointing to the wall) The plaque down there. It’s that Walsh woman. I thought it might give us a clue to where she is or who she is.
DARCY: Or even if she is!
KIRSTEN: (Suddenly frightened) You don’t know do you? You don’t know what’s happened?
(Two more mums pass by, staring at Kirsten, noticing her as if for the first time. They go saucer eyed with recognition. Kirsten flinches)
CB: What’s wrong?
KIRSTEN: We’re being watched! Somehow. By the public. Internet I think. It’s gone viral WE HAVE GONE VIRAL!
(Picking up her boy) I wanted Lewis kept out of this. You’re brought them here, haven’t you!! Just go now, please just go!!!
(Kirsten hurries down the corridor with Lewis in her arms, upset. CB and Darcy look gravely at each other then follow)
END OF CHAPTER 8
FACT FILE
Work on chapter eight was heavily delayed by work on a long term book project that was coming to an end. I began planning the chapter in early February 2018 on a week off from work. The legacy of Chapter Seven is the revelation that our protagonists are being watched. I was keen to develop this, with a different example of it in every scene. Scene 25 cheats a little in being set both just outside and just inside the nursery. Were it a stage, the scenery could have easily presented both as the actual area is in close proximity.
With Emily and Kirsten’s story having come to a stop in Chapter Six, I
was keen to take them in a new direction so they could still contribute to the
story. I thought it was time we met The Marquis who once becomes Emily’s tool.
Also to see a vulnerable side to Kirsten as she fears for her own privacy as
“Big Brother” – or rather online – is watching them. Miss Jameson is named
after the actress Louise Jameson whose first TV role was as a school teacher in
Cider With Rosie.
Heavy snow and a couple more days off ensured I wrote the last two
scenes at home, finishing the hand written draft on Monday 5th
March. I enjoyed it very much and look forward to the next instalment!
