National Velvet Page #4

Will you get down off there?

I want my insect bottle.

He'll bolt!

I'll teach him to bolt!

He isn't worth his salt.

Steady there!

He'll stop somewhere, Father.

I'll catch him.

If you hadn't defied me

and bought those tickets...

...we wouldn't have a broken cart.

- Look what you've done!

- It's jam!

I told you not to put

his insect bottle there!

I cut myself.

I only wanted my bottle.

The papa ant's dead.

I'll have you know it's both wasteful

and sinful to destroy good foodstuffs!

You had no call

to take the child's bottle!

I hope it'll teach us not to meddle.

If we'd learned the lesson sooner,

we'd still have a cart.

Did your pa calm down?

He's furious. He won't speak

to anyone. He's gone to bed.

I'm frightened.

Father said he'd send The Pie

to the knacker's yard... for cat's meat.

If anybody ever sells The Pie...

...I might as well die.

He didn't mean it.

He couldn't!

The Pie's too wonderful,

and noble and great.

Great?

You think greatness hatches,

like Mally's canaries?

Someday you'll learn greatness

is the seizing of opportunity...

...with bare hands

till the knuckles show white.

That's all I want for The Pie...

opportunity.

I haven't told you...

...but the fence you said was

as tall as Beecher's Brook...

...three times today he sailed over it.

I should be whipped

for giving you that notion.

You'll talk and dream of it

until I get sacked.

Could The Pie win the Grand National?

Velvet Brown, who do you think you are?

I'm the owner of The Pie.

Does that mean you can

poke your head amongst the stars...

...to take the grandest prize

a horse ever won?

That's for kings! You're just

a butcher's daughter in a stable.

You should be in bed with a doll!

The Pie's a king.

A king without money

or a jockey or a trainer!

And your pa wants him for cat's meat!

Could he win with the money,

the jockey and the trainer?

He could fly with wings!

But with the money, and you

as trainer, could you find a jockey?

You're too lighted up.

You've done something terrible.

Answer me.

I could get a jockey. What then?

Is Weatherby's in London

where horses are entered?

Would this be the letter to send?

"Messrs. Weatherby,

Racing Commissioners...

...Cavendish Square, London.

Dear Sirs, Please,

I am the owner of a horse.

Could you send rules of entry

for the Grand National Race?

Your obedient servant...

...Velvet Brown. "

Is it a proper letter to send?

You're not sending it.

But I did. Last week.

Here's the reply.

You won't tear this up,

till you help me fill it in.

Name of horse, sire and dame...

...where purchased, the owner's colors.

You know you need

100 pounds to enter?

We'll come to that later.

Do you know what you're

bringing on yourself?

To get him fit, summer to winter

you'd be riding, riding, riding.

Hard, heavy going.

Over fences and ditches and walls.

Until you're worn to a shadow.

Up early every day for weeks and months,

till you destroy yourself.

For what, Velvet?

You can't answer that, can you?

It's his chance to be great.

And your chance too.

My chance will come

when your pa sends me packing.

- Did Mi put you up to this?

- No, he's against it.

He begged me to change my mind.

- Are you sure?

- It's the truth, Mother.

Many times today you might've talked

to me and you waited till now. Why?

Because large dreams come easier

when it's dark and still?

I didn't think of that, Mother.

- What will you win, if you win?

- Money and a cup.

But it's not for that.

It's for The Pie.

For the glory of it for him.

He'll prove he belongs

in the history books...

...not in the knacker's yard.

The Grand National.

Large dream for a little girl.

Fetch Mi.

Mi! Mother wants to...

Well, you've done it.

If it's about that National business,

it's me that said it was folly.

It's me that was against it.

- The expense?

- A fortune of expense.

100 pounds to enter, jockey fees,

money for a van, lodgings at Aintree...

All folly for nothing.

- The horse not good enough?

- The Pie?

It's not only The Pie, nor the money.

It's other things.

30 jumps, the world's hardest course.

The greatest race on earth.

Training him month on month.

It'd just be folly for nothing.

Tell me...

...what's wrong with folly?

Come along, Velvet.

- Did Mi say jockey fee?

- Yes, Mother.

Doesn't he ride?

Did. Had a spill once, though.

I nearly drowned once in the firth.

But I swam the very next day.

He must have had a nasty fright.

So did I. That wears off.

Mi had more than a spill.

Dan Taylor?

My trainer.

You thought a heap of him,

didn't you?

There was greatness in him.

In you too, Mother.

Often I just sit and wonder about you.

I wonder what you're thinking.

You don't think like us, Mother.

You think back here.

I've seen you do the same.

We're alike.

Everyone should have a chance

at a breathtaking...

...piece of folly, once in his life.

I was 20 when they said a woman

couldn't swim the Channel. You're 12.

You think your horse...

...can win the Grand National.

Your dream has come early.

But remember, Velvet...

...it'll have to last you

all the rest of your life.

Make a lap.

It's your prize money

for swimming the Channel.

You knew I still had it.

Be truthful.

Yes, Mother.

I always hoped I'd find

the right use for it.

There's paper money for other expenses,

but this is your entry money.

We'll use the gold sovereigns for luck.

We'll win for you!

Win or lose, it's the same.

It's how you take it that counts.

And knowing when to let go.

When it's over and time

to go to the next thing.

The next thing?

Things come suitable

to the time, Velvet.

Enjoy each thing,

forget it and go on to the next.

There's a time for everything.

A time for a horse

in the Grand National...

...being in love, having children.

Yes, even for dying.

All in proper order at the proper time.

Tuck the coins under your pillow.

Say your prayers and sleep.

But who is going to tell Father?

I'll do the telling.

I don't think your Father believes

in the importance of folly.

Clean collar for Weatherby's.

Brush and comb.

Your hands don't even tremble.

Why should they?

I've been in London before.

The hundred quid?

Heavy, isn't it?

I can't complain.

There's an extra

half crown in the bag.

I saved it.

It's for you to spend.

I'll finish alone. We'll talk on

and the train will leave me.

All right. I'll saddle The Pie

and see you off.

Good luck to you.

Thanks to you.

My lad...

...your big chance came to you

in the village of Sewels.

Going to London town with a hundred

golden sovereigns in your pocket.

Mrs. Brown wishes you good luck.

I wish you a good time.

Goodbye, Mi.

Goodbye, ma'am.

400...

...500...

...600...

Making calculations, Mr. Brown?

I am.

Calculating how many chops I must

hack to make 100 golden sovereigns.

Because I'll lay both ears on this block

if you ever see your money again...

...or the hide of Master Taylor

this side of doomsday.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes