One Chance Page #14

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Paul shuffles along beside Braddon as they walk along the

road outside the mill and its towers of belching steam.

PAUL:

What’d you do, cook the books again?

BRADDON:

I’m quite capable of honest advancement,

thank you very much.

PAUL:

Somebody died?

BRADDON:

The former South Western District Sub-

Manager. Cholera. On safari or something.

Anyway, I start Monday in Croydon.

PAUL:

(fumbling with the keys)

Honestly, I don’t really think I’m up to

it.

BRADDON:

Bollocks. You’re on disability for over a

year, they’ve cut up most of your credit

cards and poor Julz-

PAUL:

Do you have any idea how many pills I

have to take every day? I didn’t choose

this!

BRADDON:

Believe that life is worth living, and

your belief will help create the fact.

PAUL:

What?

BRADDON:

Henry James...or Mighty Mouse, I’m not

sure which.

They arrive at Braddon’s new/used motorcycle, barely

standing what with the various cases and bags strapped to

it at all angles...

86.

PAUL:

You’re leaving now?

BRADDON:

Commerce waits for no man. Gonna miss

you, laddie. You’re me best mate. There,

I said it.

PAUL:

Rubbish. Uber-district-sub-under-managers

don’t have time for such emotions.

BRADDON:

It’s District Sub-Manager, and I’ll be

poppin’ round every now and again to

check up on ya. Make sure there’s no

funny business goin’ on.

PAUL:

You couldn’t spot funny business if it

was tattooed to your eye-lids.

BRADDON:

You know that, and I know that, but-

PAUL:

Give us a ring when you’re settled.

BRADDON:

I’m told the women in Croydon shag like

wild ferrets.

PAUL:

Might want to think about a rabies shot.

(Braddon considers this

before they hug)

Thanks, Brad.

BRADDON:

Give the missus a good squeeze for me.

PAUL:

No, but I’ll tell her you said bye.

Braddon kicks-starts the motorcycle which ROARS powerfully

to life...

BRADDON:

May the-

...then stalls immediately. He tries to start it again...

BRADDON (CONT’D)

May the-- Crap. May the-

87.

PAUL:

Bit more clutch, maybe.

Braddon scoffs until the bike roars to life.

BRADDON:

May the-

The bike suddenly jerks forwards, zooming him out of

earshot.

PAUL:

--flame of Arveron sustain you.

He watches Braddon’s motorbike teeter away down the road,

before turning and shuffling back home.

EXT. CAR PHONE WAREHOUSE - DAY

Looking in through the windows as the lights come on

inside. Paul walks to the window, looking up at the gray

Welsh sky that’s reflected in the glass and on his face as

he pulls the chain on the neon “OPEN” sign.

INT. CAR PHONE WAREHOUSE - DAY

He turns to face the store which is, predictably, in

shambles.

DISSOLVE TO:

THE NEON SIGN; BEING SWITCHED OFF

EXT. CAR PHONE WAREHOUSE - EVENING

As Julz waits patiently at the front door as Paul locks

up.

JULZ:

Good first day?

PAUL:

(unenthusiastically)

Yeah. Brilliant.

She walks slowly as he shuffles along the arcade of shops.

JULZ:

Any luck with the hiring?

PAUL:

(distracted)

Only a few applicants. Be better once we

get an ad going in the paper.

88.

She follows his eyes as they linger on a display in the

music store window, a life-size stand up of Palacido

Domingo, promoting a new album.

She takes his hand as he looks away, sensing her pity but

not wanting to talk about it...

PAUL (CONT’D)

How was your day?

CUT TO:

INT. FISH BAR - NIGHT

Where Paul and Julz sit over baskets of skate & chips with

Yvonne and Roland.

ROLAND:

...pressure caused a the number five

furnace to literally split down the side.

YVONNE:

Oh my lord.

ROLAND:

Bunch’a the molten steel got out.

Eighteen hundred Celsius, damn near

melted half the machinery before we got

the fire out.

JULZ:

Was anyone hurt?

ROLAND:

Billy Watkins almost got incinerated, but

lucky for him Paul’s friend Matthew

managed to hoist him out of the pit

before the soup got ‘im.

PAUL:

He’s not my friend.

ROLAND:

He’s a bloody hero.

PAUL:

Good for him.

YVONNE:

(diverting...)

Anything exciting down at the shop?

89.

ROLAND:

Hang on, love.

(to Paul)

What ever disagreements you had when you

were in school, don’t you think it’s time

you-

PAUL:

Disagreements? Do you see that, Dad?

He shows him a scar starting just at the edge of his

hairline.

PAUL (CONT’D)

That’s from a bicycle chain, wrapped

around his fist while two of his droogs

held me down. I was twelve.

ROLAND:

I don’t remember that happening.

PAUL:

What was it you told me, dad? Maybe if I

lost a few stone, I wouldn’t provoke

them.

ROLAND:

Look just because you’ve had a run of bad

luck... You’ve had plenty of

opportunities to sort yourself out.

PAUL:

(not backing down)

All those years wasted on that singing

nonsense.

ROLAND:

You’re not singing now, are you?

YVONNE:

Roland.

ROLAND:

You’re wife’s working two jobs to pay

your hospital bills and all you do is

mope about.

JULZ:

He’s back at Car Phone Warehouse.

ROLAND:

Oh, well, that’s a step in no direction,

isn’t it.

(MORE)

90.

ROLAND (CONT'D)

We may not have a lot in common, but

you’re my son and I’ve never been prouder

of you than when I heard you perform in

Bath. That was heroic. You want to give

it up, anyone would understand after what

you’ve been through...but you haven’t

have you. You’re afraid to sing, but

you’re afraid to move past it. That’s not

life.

Julz and Yvonne stare at their hands, trying to hide their

agreement...

INT. PAUL & JULZ TINY APARTMENT - NIGHT

Paul sits at the computer, pouting while working on their

pitiful finances while Julz watches Coronation Street on

ITV.

PAUL:

Three hundred pounds paid, another thirty-

seven thousand to go.

JULZ:

We’ll be all right.

PAUL:

How do you know.

JULZ:

It’s just money, isn’t it. As long as

we’ve got each other.

PAUL:

And Coronation Street.

JULZ:

Well, yeah.

Paul turns back this his computer as a series of pop-up

advertisements appear.

PAUL:

Bloody pop-ups.

He closes several of them, then stops on the last, an ad

for Britain’s Got Talent.

JULZ:

(attention on the TV)

What’s that darling?

91.

PAUL:

Nothing, just... There’s this new

contest. A hundred-thousand quid to the

best performer in Britain.

JULZ:

Robbie Williams’ll win that for sure.

PAUL:

It’s for amateurs.

JULZ:

Too bad you don’t sing. You’d’ve won it

laughing.

Paul stares at the window then minimizes it... After a

moment, he brings it back up on the screen and starts

entering his details...

PAUL:

It’s cheaper than a lottery ticket.

JULZ:

Are you seriously giving it a go?

PAUL:

You’re right. I’m such a plonker.

JULZ:

No, do it!

PAUL:

It’s stupid.

He moves to close the window when-

JULZ:

Heads or tails?

PAUL:

Ay?

JULZ:

(with a 50p coin)

Heads you forget all about it, tails you

push send.

PAUL:

Julz.

JULZ:

I was at work today, chatting with my

girls, who asked after you as they do now

and again. And do you know what I said?

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