Hope and Glory Page #20

BILL:

They're scared of old fatty.

The GUARDS form up again and fire at the balloon. It bursts

into flames. The shreds of burning cloth, followed by the

spiralling cable, plunges into the street. There are cries if

regret and the family and others step forward to inspect the

smouldering remains with the same sadness that is felt at the

end of a firework display.

BILL:

Why did they have to go and do

that?

INT. W.V.S CENTRE - DAY

A make-do-and-mend session, where clothes are exchanged,

repaired, altered and cut down. It is swarming with women and

children. MOLLY and GRACE rummage among the racks of

clothing. SUE and BILL, bored and resigned, are obliged to

try on items of used clothing.

MOLLY:

God, how I hate all this scrimping

and squalor.

GRACE:

I don't mind it. It was harder

before the war. Trying to keep up

appearances. Now it's patriotic to

be poor.

In the absence of men, women are everywhere stripping down to

their underwear to try on the clothes. BILL tries not to

watch, acutely embarrassed.

MOLLY:

I don't know how you cope, Grace.

Three kids, army pay. On your own.

GRACE:

You know something, Molly? I like

it on my own. I never got used to

sharing a bed, not really.

MOLLY pulls of her dress and suddenly, inches from BILL'S

face, are those mysterious few inches of white suspendered

leg between the stocking-tops and the camiknickers.

MOLLY:

I love a man in bed, the smell of

him, the hairiness rubbing against

you, the weight of him. And when

they do it to you in the middle of

the night and you don't know if

you're dreaming or it's really

happening to you. That's the best.

No guilty feelings. Not that I

should have any, wide awake.

MOLLY pulls on a flowered silk dress that clings to her

figure. She smooths it out.

GRACE:

Molly!

MOLLY:

Well! I'm not talking about Mac. He

hasn't toughed me for ages. And not

often ever. My life started when

Mac went on nights.

She dissolves in a fit of giggles. GRACE helps SUE with a

sensible navy-blue coat. It is heavy and dull. SUE doesn't

like it. Her face creases and tears well up.

GRACE:

You're having me on, Molly.

MOLLY:

Am I? Maybe I am.

GRACE:

You've been drinking. Your tipsy.

MOLLY:

Tipsy, topsy, turvy.

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - CHILDREN'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

BILL and SUE each have a torch, which serve as a searchlight.

BILL smokes a woodbine and he blows the smoke around the

suspended model aircraft.

Spitfires, Hurricanes, Messerschmitts, Heinkels are picked

out in turn. As they appear,BILL simulates their engine

noise. With considerable dexterity, he uses his free hand to

fire his ack-ack guns, and papier-mache pellets, pre-soaked

in ink, fly through the air. BILL animates a distressed plane

plummeting to earth. His triumph is interrupted by a TAP at

the window. Expertly he dogs his Woodbine then goes to the

window. He opens it and DAWN steps through. He is about to

close it after her when BRUCE'S face appears. BILL lets fly

an ink pellet catching BRUCE square on the forehead. DAWN

holds up a threatening hand and the children shrink back as

BRUCE clambers in. The two of them tiptoe into the next

bedroom, DAWN throwing a warning glance over her shoulder.

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - LANDING - NIGHT

BILL and SUE share the keyhole, which affords a partial view

of Dawn's bed. Complicated combinations of limbs cross the

field of view, offering a tantalizing version of events

within. The children give up and return to their room,

whispering.

SUE:

I suppose they're still learning,

that's why they keep moving about.

BILL:

It's easy. I've done it.

SUE:

Who with?

BILL:

Pauline.

SUE:

Liar. Mummy keep still and Daddy

moves on top of her. That's what

they do when they know how.

INT. ROHAN HOUSE - DAWN'S ROOM - NIGHT.

BRUCE turns on his back with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

BRUCE:

(whispering)

Boy, that was some air-raid.

DAWN:

Air-raid?

BRUCE:

Didn't you feel the house rock? You

must have seen all those shell

bursts.

She sticks the pillow in her mouth to stop laughing. BRUCE

turns and whispers in her ear.

BRUCE:

Let's get married. We'll live in

Montreal. I'll teach you French. Je

t'aime, mon petit chou.

Even when he's serious, his manner is teasing.

DAWN:

Don't get smoochy. You'll spoil it.

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