Hope and Glory Page #15

They laugh derisively.

ROGER:

Well say that one then.

BILL cannot get himself to say it, try as he will. They

groan and jeer. BILL forces it out, the one that he heard

on the bomb site.

BILL:

F***!

They fall respectfully silent, exchange covert looks.

ROGER:

That word is special. That word

is only for something really

important. Now, repeat after

me... Bugger off.

BILL:

Bugger off.

ROGER:

Sod.

BILL:

Sod.

ROGER:

Bloody.

BILL:

Bloody.

ROGER:

Now put them together. Bugger

off, you bloody sod.

BILL:

Bugger off, you bloody sod.

ROGER:

OK. You're in.

He gets up, leading them out of the room.

ROGER:

Let's smash things up.

They go into a newly bombed house and, armed with stout

sticks and iron bars, indulge in an orgy of destruction.

ROGER has an air-gun and specializes in picking of light

bulbs. BILL is tentative at first, but the violence is

infectious. Pent-up aggression bursts and his is wilder and

worse than the others.

EXT. BUILDER'S YARD - DAY

ROGER leads the way, clambering over a damaged wall and

dropping into an enclosed yard. The others tumble after him

and ROGER raises a warning arm and addresses the gang

solemnly.

ROGER:

This is top secret.

He points to a corner where dozens of sign-posts, uprooted

from crossroads, have been piled against each other, their

arms spread out forlonly announcing the names of towns and

their distances.

ROGER:

They pulled them up from all the

crossroads, so when the Germans

land they'll lose their way.

BILL:

Won't they have maps?

ROGER:

They'll have to go to a shop to

buy a map, stupid. Then they'll

give zemselves avay viz ze vay

zay tork.

One BOY starts to goose-step and sing.

BOY:

(singing)

Ven der Fuhrer says

Vis iss der master race,

Ve vart, vart, vart,

Right in der Fuhrer's face.

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - LANDING AD STAIRS - NIGHT

DAWN, watched by BILL, tiptoes down the stairs. She opens

the front door as silently as possible. Vera Lynn dispenses

sexy sentimentality on the wireless ('Sincerely Yours').

GRACE appears. DAWN is caught in the act.

GRACE:

And where do you think you're

going?

DAWN:

Out.

GRACE:

You go to bed this minute and

take off that lipstick.

DAWN:

No, I won't.

GRACE files at her, enraged, and slaps her head and face.

GRACE:

You wouldn't dare defy me if your

father was here.

DAWN covers her head with her arms until GRACE stops,

exhausted.

DAWN:

If you've finished, I'm going.

She steps out of the door. GRACE grabs her, tearing her

blouse, and swings her back inside. They wrestle wildly,

both whimpering and moaning. BILL watches from above as the

fight imperceptibly transforms and mother and daughter are

finally hugging each other and crying.

DAWN:

I want him. I want him so much.

I'll kill myself if I can't have

him.

GRACE:

There, there, my baby.

GRACE lets go and turns towards the living room where Vera

Lynn wails a lament.

GRACE:

Go if you want. What does it

matter? We might be all dead

tomorrow.

DAWN'S make-up is smudged, her clothes torn.

DAWN:

I can't go like this.

GRACE turns back and takes DAWN'S hand.

GRACE:

You better bring him home, if you

really love him. Don't kill love.

You'll regret it for the rest of

your life.

DAWN:

Who said anything about love?

EXT. BOMBED SITE - EVENING

The gang's H.Q. is even further improved. They have put in

some expensive furniture.

They have a wireless and a cocktail bar that opens to reveal

a nest of mirrors reflecting the bottles within. The gang

fool's around, in and out of the room, smoking and drinking

beer. A girl walks past, throwing them a flirtatious look. It

is PAULINE the girl who lost her mother in an air-raid. They

whistle and shout at her.

BOY #1

Want to see our den?

BOY #2

We got a bed.

They laugh bawdily and she turns up her nose. One of the boys

starts to wrestle with her. She starts to struggle. They pin

back her arms and try and kiss her. Her breasts push up

against her blouse like little apples. ROGER whispers

something in her ear. She protests.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes