Beloved Infidel Page #4

The beautiful, rich mother,

Sir Richard in his pink coat...

Even the pictures, they're all fake.

Even my name.

It isn't Scotch, it isn't German.

It's just common.

Lily Shiel. That's my name - Lily Shiel.

Sheil-o... Sheil-o, why on earth...?

What difference does it...?

Because I didn't want to be drab.

Because I was afraid.

Sheil-o, that's enough. That's enough.

Lots of people don't like their lives

so they make up better lives.

That's all you did.

And all of it, every bit of it...

Everything that you were

and everything that you are

makes you that much dearer to me.

Oh... But, Scott, I couldn't go

through life being Lily Shiel.

You... you asked me if I wore pigtails.

Pigtails! Our heads were shorn!

They were shorn to the bone.

And I was so ugly

and I didn't want to be.

- I wanted to be beautiful and clever...

- You are.

I wanted to be accepted

and to be loved and to be safe.

You are, Sheil-o.

All those things you are.

I wish I had known you then.

I would have taken care of you.

- You could have come to me.

- Yes, where were you then?

There was no one to tell me

right from wrong. No one!

Stop crying, Sheil-o.

I love you very much.

I love you as you are.

As you are.

My days only begin

when you come into this house.

I'm jealous of every second

spent with anybody else.

That's fine with me.

Let's be hermits together.

We won't go out again

till New Year's Eve.

Not even then.

I felt so lost this evening at dinner

when you and Stan and Bob and everybody

were all discussing the Thirty Year War.

I'm English, and you're discussing

English history and I can't even join in.

I never even went past elementary school,

and I'm hideously aware of the fact.

My column isn't even grammatical.

I'm beginning to hate the whole thing.

Every self-respecting writer feels

that way

about his work sometime or another.

I've been working for two weeks

on the copy of my first radio broadcast.

I've got to send it

to John Wheeler in New York.

I don't know - every time I rewrite it

it seems more rubbishy than the last.

Let's have a look at it.

- Would you, darling?

- Sure.

Would you?

Here it is.

You don't mind if I reword it

here and there?

No. No, of course not.

Here. Put the magazine under it.

- Just for instance, huh?

- Mm-hm.

That's funny.

That's good.

Don't you think it'll be

a bit over their heads?

Don't you believe it, Sheil-o.

If you give them your best,

they'll love you for it.

A little gossip is all right,

but mix it up.

Toss in an idea once in a while. Don't be

afraid to make people use their minds.

I wish I could learn to use mine.

It hasn't been exposed to

a serious idea or book in its life.

How would you like it if I were to...

make out a sort of a reading list?

We could go through

some of the really good books.

Literature, politics,

modern and ancient history.

You can make notes

and we can discuss them together.

- Could we, darling? I would love that.

- Of course we could.

Do me good too.

The beauty of literature is

that it's ageless.

You discover that your longings

are universal longings,

that you're not lonely

and isolated from anyone.

You belong.

Oh, I do so want you to be proud of me.

You know, up until now,

I've always felt the only thing

I had to be was beautiful... pretty,

that people would accept me

for no other reason.

And there's always been that fear

of being discarded when I grew old.

Beautiful young people

are accidents of nature, Sheil-o.

Beautiful old people create themselves.

One of the most attractive women

I've ever met was a belle of 80 winters.

Oh, heavens! Then the sooner

I start my lessons the better.

All right.

Let's start on English literature.

Say... a good rousing

play by Shakespeare.

Well, for the first night,

could the pupil make the choice?

What have you got in mind?

Well, current literature.

With special reference

to a passage from Tender is the Night,

by my favourite author,

F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I'd hardly call him current,

but nevertheless,

my loyal little public... proceed.

"Nicole smiled at him,

making sure that the smile

gathered up everything inside her

and directed it toward him, making him

a profound promise of herself

for so little,

for the beat of a response. "

"Minute by minute, the sweetness drained

down into her out of the willow trees. "

Sounds better now than when I wrote it.

It's those damn willow trees.

They'll do it every time.

Oh, I suppose women from eight to 80

have been throwing themselves at you

as long as you can remember.

You little witch.

I suppose you think a writer has to

experience everything he writes about.

I sweated blood getting that on paper.

All you do is...

Listen. " She stood up,

and stumbling over the phonograph,

was momentarily against him... " Ohh...

"... leaning into the hollow

of his rounded shoulder. "

Lay off Fitzgerald and

start on Shakespeare.

I'll take a living author any day.

I knew it.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

I absolutely must find the little hollow

in that rounded shoulder.

Oh, you must?

- Well, lesson number one.

- Oh, no...

Ow!

Don't needle the professor.

- Is the conference over?

- Are they ever?

I'll be right back.

This is...

...Hitler's troops goose-stepped

into Vienna.

Ex-Chancellor Kurt von Schuschnigg

was reported to be under arrest.

Following an ultimatum

by the Austrian Nazi leader,

the Fatherland Front forces were

disarmed

and the swastika flown

over public buildings.

- That's the world news today.

- Ten seconds, Miss Graham.

You have to allow 30 seconds

for the switchover from Chicago.

Wait for my hand signal.

Now to Hollywood and Miss Sheilah Graham

with the latest news from filmland.

G- good evening.

This is Sheilah Graham from Hollywood.

Mr. Sam Goldwyn, who is as well known

for his wit as for his excellent films,

was hunting for a comedy

to star Eddie Cantor.

He received a call from a writer

who told him

he had the perfect comedy

for Cantor.

Not only was it a good comedy, the writer

insisted, but it also had a message.

"Just write me a comedy,"

said the witty Mr. Goldwyn.

"Messages are for Western Union. "

- Sheil-o?

- Scott!

Oh, Scott...

It was a shambles. I'm so miserable.

- Don't be silly, darling. You were fine.

- You're lying and I love you for it.

I wish you'd been with me.

Anybody would be nervous

the first time.

- Next week you'll be over it.

- There isn't going to be a next week.

Mr. Robinson of the network

called from Chicago.

They liked the material,

but not my voice.

They're going to use a radio actress.

- That's ridiculous.

- I know. I argued with them.

I told them that what made me nervous

was the wait, that 30-second delay,

but he's set on it -

he's going to use an actress.

Oh, he is, is he? Over my dead body.

You'll go right back to Chicago, Sheilah,

and do the show from there.

Sheilah, there are times

when you just have to fight back.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes