Hope and Glory Page #18

GRACE:

Come away, children. I don't want

you to stand too close while he's

opening it.

They retreat to the corner of the room. CLIVE has it opened

and bends back the top to reveal a deep-red jam. GRACE

ventures forward and peers at it.

CLIVE:

Well?

GRACE:

It looks....foreign.

CLIVE:

Jam is jam! It's just jam!

DAWN:

Well, I'm not having any. Even if

it's not poisoned. I don't think

it's right. It's not patriotic.

BILL:

You don't like jam. You hate jam.

You never eat jam.

DAWN:

That's not the point.

There is an impasse. They stare at it gloomily. CLIVE waves

grandly at the jam.

CLIVE:

Taste it. Why don't you taste it?

GRACE:

You taste it.

The eyes turn on CLIVE. The situation forces their resentment

for one who has not shared in their hardships, who abandoned

them, in fact. The jam has become a test. He looks into the

faces of his family. Resolutely, he takes up a teaspoon,

picks up the can and begins to eat. Grimly and steadily he

ladles the jam to his mouth. They watch him carefully for

signs of pain. Before their doubts are dispelled, he has

consumed a third of the can. BILL is the first to crack.

BILL:

Give us some, Dad.

CLIVE stops eating, puts the can back on the table and they

all dig in. The tension is dispelled. SUE climbs on CLIVE'S

lap and he feeds her himself. They laugh and chatter and

stuff bread and jam in their mouths.

GRACE:

You mean they let you go through

the officer training course and

then said you were too old for a

commission?

CLIVE:

That's it.

GRACE:

Why didn't they say that before you

started?

CLIVE:

I wasn't too old when I started the

course. I was too old when it

finished.

GRACE:

What are you going to be then?

CLIVE:

A clerk. I'm doing a typing course.

I'll be typing for England.

GRACE goes to him, puts an arm around him.

GRACE:

Poor Clive. You wanted it so much.

He looks up at her, beaten, uncomprehending. She kisses him.

GRACE:

You're such a baby.

The DOORBELL SOUNDS. DAWN scoots out to answer it.

BILL:

It's lovely jam. It's nearly as

nice as English jam.

CLIVE grins, quickly recovered from his bad moment.

CLIVE:

You know what I always say? Jam is

jam, the world over.

DAWN reappears with BRUCE. CLIVE darts a querying look at

GRACE. He winces at the sight of his little girl looking up

adorningly at a Canadian soldier.

DAWN:

Bruce, this is my father. Dad, this

is Corporal Bruce Carey.

CLIVE laughs awkwardly, outranked.

BILL:

Bruce, look! Dad got some German

jam.

SUE:

We thought it was poison.

They laugh. BRUCE looks at it with mock suspicion, then

tastes it with his fingertip. His eyes bulge and he clutches

his throat.

BRUCE:

The poison was at the bottom.

He falls to the ground in the most agonized convulsions. The

children scream with laughter and jump on top of him.

EXT. ROHAN HOUSE - KITCHEN STEPS - DAY

The kitchen door is open, admitting thin winter sunlight.

GRACE works within. Outside, CLIVE is cleaning his kit,

helped by BILL. Belt and gaiters are balanced and laid out to

dry. CLIVE is sitting on the steps, putting dubbin on his

boots, BILL polishing his father's hat badge, totally

absorbed in its beauty. GRACE appears, outs a hand on CLIVE'S

shoulder, closes her eyes, let's the sun caress her face.

GRACE:

When do you think you'll get leave

again?

CLIVE:

Not till Christmas, I don't

suppose.

SUE appears and sprawls herself across her father's lap.

CLIVE:

I'm glad you didn't send them to

your aunt.

GRACE:

I've had a letter from her. They've

moved house.

CLIVE:

Where to?

She smiles, eyes still closed.

GRACE:

Woolamaloo.

CLIVE splutters with amusement.

CLIVE:

Not Woolamaloo?

BILL looks up, grinning.

BILL:

Woolamaloo? We would have lived in

Woolamaloo?

CLIVE starts to sing the old music-hall song.

CLIVE:

(singing)

W-O-O-L-A-M-A-L-O-O, oo.

Upon my word, it's true.

It's the way to spell

Woolamaloo.

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