Angel Page #8
You're at home.
- The grocery.
Not the grocery!
- No, of course
you're not in the grocery.
You're in Paradise House
with me, with Nora.
- Nora... I can't see! My eyes!
I can't see!
- Just go to sleep.
You need rest, that's all.
- Nora...
Do you think...
if I had had a baby...
... that Esme...
would still be alive?
- Of course not.
Don't say such foolish things.
- Nora?
Do you think
Do you think
it's all been a dream?
None of it... was real?
- No.
No, my sweet Angel.
Of course it was real.
Your life has been magnificent.
You live in Paradise House,
and you're a very great writer.
And you were passionately,
passionately loved.
- The only person...
who ever really loved me,
Nora,
was you.
(Nora crying quietly)
I am Angel Deverell.
- Please... please!
Angel? Angel!
No! No! No!
(crying and screaming)
Please... No!
(sobbing)
- Nora, tell me.
What will you do now?
- I don't know.
I've had offers for Paradise.
There's talk of turning it
into a museum for Esme's work;
showing the paintings.
- Well, that would please Angel.
She always believed in him.
- Hmm, perhaps.
But all of her books -
- Fashion changes,
and time can be cruel.
- I'd always imagined her lying
in state in Westminster Abbey.
Speeches and crowds filing past.
- Why don't you write
some kind of tribute to her?
You knew her so well, Nora.
Not just her work,
but her life.
- Her life? Which life?
The life she lived,
or the life she dreamed?
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"Angel" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 19 Jan. 2025. <https://www.scripts.com/script/angel_2850>.
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