Bridget Jones's Baby Page #22

SHOPPER:

Is it a boy or a girl?

BRIDGET:

It’s a boy.

SHOPPER:

When’s it due?

BRIDGET:

Two weeks, more or less, I think!

Just as she gets to the checkout the cashier goes on her

break. Bridget’s long queue shuffles over to the next till.

CASHIER:

Is it a boy or a girl?

BRIDGET:

Boy.

CASHIER:

When’s it due?

BRIDGET:

Um, two weeks, we think.

As the cashier rings up Bridget’s purchases, another shopper

comes up and stares at Bridget’s bump.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

109

SHOPPER 2

Is it

BRIDGET:

Boy. Two weeks.

CASHIER:

(talking to the next cashier)

Did you read about the woman in

Italy who had a baby when she was

sixty-five?

(turns to Bridget)

That will be £40.67 please. Enter

your pin.

Bridget puts her card in machine, she goes blank.

BRIDGET:

I’ve forgotten it. Oh, God.

The other customers in the queue are getting restive.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

I’ll pay with cash.

She fumbles in her purse, and manages to rustle up £29.60.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

I’ll put something back.

She starts to hand back some of the items, one by one,

reluctantly. The unhealthy ones first. The cashier de-scans

them until the total is down to £27.60.

At the last minute Bridget defiantly takes back a carton of

Ben and Jerry’s bringing the total up to £23.10. Bridget

marches out triumphantly passing a lady who is entering the

shop.

160A EXT. MARK’S HOUSE. DAY. 160A

Mark is loading suitcases into a cab. Camilla exits the

house. They BOTH get into the car and drive off.

161 INT. HIGH STREET BANK. DAY.

Bridget is at an ATM in one of those bank lobbies, she’s

still trying to remember her PIN as she attempts to get cash.

BRIDGET:

(mumbling)

Birthday?

INCORRECT PIN flashes.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

Battle of Hastings?...

First shag?.....

INCORRECT PIN flashes and the machine swallows the card.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

110

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

Oh f*** it!

Bridget shuffles out.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

(to her tummy)

Oh, my darling, I’ve gone all crap

all of a sudden.

161A EXT/INT. HEATHROW AIRPORT. SAME TIME. DAY. 161A

Mark and his wife enter the airport with the suitcases. They

pause at the departures board.

161B EXT. HIGH STREET BANK. DAY 161B

It starts to rain very hard. Bridget suddenly realizes, as

the glass doors close, that she has left all of her shopping

inside the bank.

BRIDGET:

Oh! Oh - come on, let’s just get

home.

162 OMITTED 162

162A INT. AIRPORT. SAME TIME. DAY. 162A

Mark is helping Camilla at the check-in desk. He turns

around, just in time to see:

Tom and Eduardo, emerging into arrivals carrying their little

boy. Tom strokes his head. Eduardo fusses with the buggy.

Mark watches this scene. He smiles. He thinks. Unbeknownst,

Camilla's observing him.

163 OMITTED 163

164 EXT. BRIDGET’S FLAT. DAY. 164

The rain is easing off. Bridget feels in her bag for her

keys. She becomes increasingly agitated.

BRIDGET:

Oh, no! Please no.

No keys. No phone.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

Oh, no! I’ve left them inside! Oh,

fuckity fuckity fuckity f*** f***.

(to her tummy)

Sorry.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

111

She presses all the other buzzers. No answer...she slumps,

utterly defeated.

She looks just like a crumpled old street-dweller.

BRIDGET (V.O.)

I’m so sorry, little bean.

Everything that I need to call

someone for help is in my bag, and

I’m just too exhausted to go back

and get it. I bet someone’s

already tucking into my Ben and

Jerry’s right now. I suppose I

could call Jude or Shazzer, but I

can’t remember their numbers these

days, and it’s probably bath time,

bed time, or story time, or some

other inconvenient time. And Tom’s

got my spares, but he’s on his way

back from Ecuador, so that’s no use

to us. Hmm, I wonder if Gianni’s is

open? I’ll just sit here for a

little rest while I come up with a

plan.

She closes her eyes, starts to drift off.

165 EXT. BRIDGET’S FLAT. - TRANSITION TO NIGHT

She comes to, looks up and thinks she’s imagining.... MARK

DARCY coming round the corner.

She watches him as he approaches. He gets near to her and

then.... dips his hand in his pocket and gives her a tenner.

He then rings Bridget’s door bell.

BRIDGET:

Hey!

MARK:

Bridget? My god. What are you doing

there? You’re all wet. You’re

outside!

He kneels down, helps her up.

BRIDGET:

I locked myself out. I lost my

phone... and my keys... and my

credit cards. Like a bloody idiot.

He puts his coat round her.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

What are you doing here?

MARK:

It seems I can never, ever leave

this street.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

112

BRIDGET:

But I thought you were back with

Candida.

MARK:

You know very well she’s called

Camilla...

BRIDGET:

Camilla. I came round to find you

and she was there.

MARK:

She was coming to collect her

things. She’s gone back to The

Hague.

Without a beat he wraps his scarf around his hand and punches

the glass of the front door, before letting himself in.

166 INT. BRIDGET’S FLAT. NIGHT.

They are both now inside the flat, Bridget still reeling.

Mark takes Bridget in his arms.

MARK:

Look you know I find emotional

declarations.... difficult, but the

truth is...

(a beat)

Bridget?

BRIDGET:

Mmm?

MARK:

Why are my trousers all warm?

BRIDGET:

Oh!! Oh!! F***! My waters must have

broken!

MARK:

Jesus Christ!

BRIDGET:

I am so sorry. I’ll get a cloth!

MARK:

No, no. It doesn’t matter. But

you’re not due for another two or

three weeks at least.

A contraction. She winces.

BRIDGET:

Ooh! And that’s a contraction.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

113

MARK:

And we are ruling out “Braxton

Hicks” which tend to be longer and

non - rhythmic in nature...

BRIDGET:

Yes we bloody are. I think we

should go to the hospital, quickly.

Suddenly the mood is all urgent action whilst trying to

maintain calm.

MARK:

Absolutely!

BRIDGET:

We’ll go in your car.

MARK:

I came in a cab.

BRIDGET:

(contraction)

Oh for f***’s sake!

MARK:

Well how was I supposed to know!?

BRIDGET:

Not you - the contractions!

MARK:

We’ll take your car.

BRIDGET:

Can’t, the keys are in my bag along

with everything else.

She lets out a scream.

MARK:

Right. Ok. You just pant and

breathe and relax and count. That’s

what you’re supposed to do, right?

Darcy’s phone starts to ring. Will he answer?

BRIDGET:

41, 42, 43, 44... Should you get

that? It might be work.

Mark marches over to the window and in a dramatic gesture,

goes to throw the phone out.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

Don’t!

But he throws it out triumphantly. He’s proved himself.

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

Great! But we need to get a cab.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

114

MARK:

Oh sh*t... Can I borrow a phone?

She throws him the house phone. He starts to dial.

MARK (CONT’D)

Where’s your overnight bag?

BRIDGET:

... 48 ... 49 ... over there.

MARK:

Hi there. A cab from 7A Stonier

Street.

A great suite of immense luggage.

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