Hope and Glory

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - BACK GARDEN - SEPTEMBER 1939 - DAY

COLOUR:

Raking down a line of suburban gardens lit by a late-summer

sun. Heads move back and forth above the fences that divide

the narrow strips of land, moving to the sound of unseen

lawn mowers.

In one of these gardens two children, BILL (aged eight) and

his sister SUE (aged six) disport themselves. They are

sprawled out on the lawn, heads and hands intent on

something hidden from view in the lush vegetation of a

rockery garden. Beneath those flowers and plants is a dark

and mysterious forest, shaded by huge leaves, and broken up

by towering boulders. Mounted figures of medieval knights

ride in, guided by BILL'S gigantic hand. A wizard appears

in the path of the riders who draw up sharply. BILL gives

an impression of neighing horses. SUE'S face looms up

between large leaves. She makes the sound of spooky wind.

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - DINING/LIVING ROOM - DAY

In the penumbra of the room, the mother, GRACE, in droopy

flowered frock, crosses, floats towards the walnut wireless

and, with trembling hand, switches it on. Its green dial

glows with stations like Droitwich and Hilversum. She

glides back and drapes herself behind an armchair in which

her husband, CLIVE, sits solemn and motionless.

EXT. ROHAN HOUSE - GARDEN - DAY

The sound of the lawn-mower ceases abruptly. BILL looks up

sharply. The neighbours' heads come to rest on top of the

garden fences. They turn, listening. BILL inclines his head

towards the french windows, sensing the dread moment. He

walks towards the door and is framed there. He regards his

parents.

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - DINING/LIVING ROOM - DAY

They look back with unseeing, inward-turned eyes. Young

BILL gathers confused fragments of the fateful

announcement.

CHAMBERLAIN (V.O)

...those assurances... by eleven

o'clock... a state of war... that

this country... at war with

Germany.

The boy catches his mother's eye. She smiles en embarrassed

smile. The boy is embarrassed by her embarrassment. His

father's glassy solemnity angers him. In the garden, SUE

sings.

SUE (O.S.)

(singing)

Flat foot floogie with a Floy

Floy.

BILL turns to his sister.

BILL:

Stop that, Sue!

CLIVE is startled out of his funereal reverie.

BILL:

She just sings it. She doesn't

know what it means.

An older sister, DAWN, a tumescent fifteen, stumbles into

the room in a nightdress.

DAWN:

Where are my stockings? I can't

find my stockings!

Her mother, GRACE, interrupts her with outstretched arms.

GRACE:

Dawn, darling. They've started a

war again.

GRACE says it as though announcing that dinner is served,

but her voice is torn by a sob as she holds DAWN in her

arms.

GRACE:

(Whispering and sobbing)

We mustn't frighten the little

ones.

DAWN is appalled by her mother's display of sentiment. She

wrenches free.

DAWN:

I don't care! I want my

stockings!

CLIVE get's up, blazing. He seizes DAWN and shakes her.

CLIVE:

Stockings? War! Don't you

understand! War!

DAWN:

I don't care!

CLIVE:

War! War!

GRACE inserts herself between them.

GRACE:

Clive. Don't. Dawn, please.

EXT. ROHAN HOUSE - GARDEN - DAY

BILL calls out from the garden. He is jumping up and down,

pointing at the sky.

BILL:

German planes! German planes!

They run out. GRACE sweeps little SUE into her arms, buring

her face in her bosom and rushing back into the shelter of

the house. DAWN and CLIVE scan the sky for planes, There

are none.

BILL:

I did see them. I did.

DAWN:

He's the worst liar.

DAWN swings a fist at BILL and chases him inti the room,

raining savage blows upon him.

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - DINING/LIVING ROOM - DAY

Father is white with rage. He seizes them, one in each

hand. Mother cowers with SUE.

CLIVE:

These are the fruits of my loins?

DAWN lunges at BILL. The GRANDMOTHER enters, tall, frail,

elegant, ga-ga, deaf.

GRANDMA:

Is it peace in out time?

GRACE:

(shouting)

No, Mother! It's War! War!

GRANDMA:

Or what?

GRACE:

War! War! War!

The wireless begins to play 'God Save the King'. Father

immediately lets go of the children and stands rigidly to

attention.

The others simmer down and shuffle into stiff and still

poses. GRANDMOTHER, who perhaps cannot hear the Anthem, is

baffled, shakes her head.

EXT. ROSEHILL AVENUE - DAY

The sirens sound. A shocking blast of noises, the sickening

ululations of the air-raid warning. They call out over the

rows of bow-fronted semi-detached, lower-middle-class

houses. Some of the occupants, more daring or more confused

than their neighbours, burst out of their front doors,

turning in frenzied circles, craning at the heavens.

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