Ginger & Rosa Page #3

all the time, everywhere.

I mean, nothing was secure.

Nothing.

What's the difference?

We could all die tomorrow.

We could, Ginger.

For sure.

We could.

- Bella.

- Well, she's right.

It is getting serious.

But I don't want to die.

I want to grow up

and do things.

And you will, honey.

You will.

My darling Ginger...

can't you be a girl for

a moment or two longer?

You'll be a woman soon enough.

Roland replied to my letter.

Did he?

What did he say?

He said he was very touched.

He has such deep feelings.

- Such fierce feelings.

- I know.

- And he's a pacifist.

- I know.

Well, I think it's really noble.

- It's eviI to kill.

- Well, exactly.

It's one of the

Ten Commandments.

Thou shalt not,

et cetera, et cetera.

- You sound a bit cynical.

- Absolutely not.

But I don't need a commandment

to work that one out.

I think there are

times for action...

to stop total death.

Look, Rosa.

I totally admire my

father in every way...

but I'm just not sure...

Is it really so noble to decide

not to fight someone like Hitler?

- Mark says...

- You're always quoting Mark.

And you're always

quoting Roland these days.

Mark told me he chose

not to fight in the war...

because he didn't

want to kill anybody.

He was an ambulance

driver instead.

But Roland was in prison...

for being a conscientious

objector.

I know.

He's my father.

And I'm going to go live with

him starting this week.

And I'm going sailing

with him next weekend.

Do you want to come?

Actually, he thought

you should, probably.

What do you mean, should?

Best room in the house.

Small, but...

perfectly well-formed.

Happy?

I'll put the kettle on.

"This is the way the world ends.

This is the way the world ends"...

"Not with a bang"...

"Not with a bang"...

Bella will not be parted from her work

in progress under any circumstances.

Well, there are certain things

that one must hold on to.

But don't you think occasionally

there's an argument for letting go, dear?

Don't be fooled by such

phony modernity, Ginger.

Letting go.

Please.

But surely even a poetess...

should be able to relax enough

to enjoy her soup...

especially if it's been

made by Mark.

But one is not a poetess,

Mark Two...

just as one is not a "doctoress"

or a "physicistess. "

Here we go.

No, this is not a

matter of principle...

but one of precise language.

Names are word objects

and must be given due respect.

Well, that's an interesting

concept, Bella.

By the way, I am curious.

I understand why you have

this adorable nickname... Ginger.

But what's the name

on your birth certificate?

My father named me...

Africa.

Africa!

Any particular reason?

He said it was in honor of Freud's theory

of the dark continent of woman.

Oh, dear.

Freud.

Is this the famous Roland who

holds us all in his theoretical spell?

Well, let's just stick

with Ginger then, shall we?

Although you could always

move on to Scarlet in due time.

As in flame, not O'Hara.

That's a good name

for an activist.

How's all that going,

by the way?

I'm thinking of joining

the Committee of 100, actually.

I agree with Bertrand Russell.

And what do you agree with?

About direct action.

He says the danger of nuclear war

is too great for lawful protest.

So you think marching's not enough?

It may not be enough

to save us...

you know...

from total extinction.

Where are you going?

To a restaurant.

Where are you going?

To a meeting.

See you later then.

So you're coming back here?

Maybe.

Do you want to try?

This crisis is taking the world...

to the brink of catastrophe.

The Russians have put their

missiles on Cuba, as we know...

as part of this deadly battle...

with the United States

for world supremacy...

that could end with

no world at all.

And what is our government

doing about it?

They tell people to put sandbags

over their windows and stay indoors.

Meanwhile, the government have built

top secret bomb shelters underground.

But only enough space

for themselves.

Then who will be left for them to govern?

Everyone else will be dead.

Burnt to cinders.

I think it's immoral.

You know,

to use precise language.

Let me guess.

You shouldn't really be in here.

You're still at school,

aren't you?

Some of the time.

Don't worry.

I'll buy you a drink.

A pint and a half, please.

Thanks.

Anyway, I learn more at these

meetings than I ever do at school.

That goes without saying, I think.

Thanks.

Thanks.

Are you a student?

I'm at art school.

Do you draw?

Yes, definitely.

Sometimes.

But I think I'm more

of a poet, actually.

Are you?

My mum used to be

a painter though.

What's her name?

You wouldn't know it.

She gave it up,

you know, to have me.

I live with my father

now anyway.

He's a pacifist.

He writes articles and stuff.

Anything I might have read?

"The Idea of Freedom. "

He's your father?

Ginger, want to try it?

Think it might be done.

You sure you don't want any?

No, I'm fine, thank you.

I've already eaten.

- That's not bad.

- Who's the chef?

We made it together...

me and Ginger.

Mutual aid.

This is good.

Communist cooks.

How marvelous.

- Anarchists, I think.

- It's Italian, actually.

Bolognese.

Oh, there's lots of

anarchists in Bologna.

You...

are a thing of beauty, Rosa.

Oh, Ginger.

Ginger.

- Look, Mum...

- How is everything?

Can I stay the night tonight?

I'm not moving back or anything.

You're painting again.

Yes, I am.

And a bit of studying...

now that...

Well, that's good.

But I could make up your bed.

Aren't you happy

at Roland's...

after going on and on about wanting to

live with him instead of boring old me?

I never said that,

about being boring.

But of course I'm

happy over there.

It's really interesting.

It was just a thought anyway.

Don't bother with the bed or anything.

I was just passing.

Made you some supper.

What time is it?

About 2:
00...

or so.

Somewhat late.

But I cooked it.

You said you were hungry.

Well, I was.

You're not going to eat it?

Oh, yes.

Yes.

Looks delicious.

I didn't know you could cook.

Nor did I.

Look, I know it's all

got a bit complicated.

Perhaps I can never be the

kind of father you really want.

I'm not sure I'm

father material, really.

Oh, but you are.

I never said I wanted

anything different, did I?

You've never complained

about anything, really.

You're not a moaner,

as a rule, thank God.

But look.

Things have been difficult

for me with Nat...

for a long time.

One day you will

understand that...

real love...

when it comes...

is like a siren call.

One simply has no choice...

and one must surrender.

But listen.

I am aware...

that...

perhaps you might

not be entirely happy...

with the situation.

How could anyone be happy...

when you know

about the bomb?

Happiness is not

really an option...

when you know the whole world

could be blown to pieces any minute.

You are a good girl.

You're a born radical...

unsurprisingly.

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