Philomena Page #11

As she says this MARTIN finds his eye resting on a ‘Madonna

and Child’ above the optics.

MARTIN (cont’d)

So how did they decide who got a

baby?

MUM:

If you were a Catholic with a

thousand pounds you could buy a

baby. Jane Russell bought one to

take home with her. But my lips are

sealed on the subject...

CUT TO:

50AA INT. MARTIN’S ROOM, GUEST HOUSE - DAWN 50AA

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MARTIN works at his computer.

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CUT TO:

50A EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - DAWN 50A

MARTIN has gone for another jog, by the dry stone wall and

field with the distant high hills from earlier. He seems

energized this morning, bounding along like a spring lamb.

CUT TO:

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PHILOMENA - Final Shooting Script 47.

51 INT. MARTIN’S ROOM, GUEST HOUSE - DAWN 51

MARTIN paces around his chintzy little room speaking on his

mobile.

MARTIN:

... yes, well you said to give you

a ring if I found something Sally,

and it just fell into my lap

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really.

He sits on the edge of a cheap attempt at a four-poster bed,

ducking under the burgundy fringe hanging from it.

MARTIN (cont’d)

Hope it’s not too late but I’ve got

myself pretty fired up - I think

there are some interesting themes,

people tracing their family

trees... the whole Irish

Diaspora...

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CUT TO:

52 INT. SALLY’S OFFICE - DAY 52

Sally Mitchell has a glass fronted office looking out onto a

hi-tech, open-plan newsroom dotted with JOURNALISTS working

the night shift. SALLY is pouring herself a coffee from a

percolator as she speaks to Martin; from the paper and memos

scattered across her desk it’s been a busy day.

SALLY:

Don’t use words like Diaspora

Martin. I can’t spell it and people

don’t know what it means.

[INTERCUT between these two scenes]

MARTIN:

Well, it just means-

SALLY:

No no - I’m genuinely not

interested in what it means.

She pours two sugar sachets into her coffee.

SALLY (cont’d)

Who are the goodies, who are the

baddies?

Her direct manner wrong foots him for a moment.

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PHILOMENA - Final Shooting Script 48.

MARTIN:

Erm... okay, it’s about a little

old Irish lady, retired nurse,

trying to find her baby son who was

taken... ripped away from her at

birth, by...

(Suddenly comes to him)

... evil nuns.

SALLY looks around for a stirrer, can’t find one so uses her

finger.

SALLY:

So how does it end?

(Before he can answer)

-and it’s got to be really happy or

really sad. What I don’t want is

some in-the-middle bullshit, yeh?

MARTIN:

Well... what I’d suggest is an

emotional reunion. It’ll cost a

little bit in flights and hotels,

but we win either way. We find out

he’s the chairman of IBM, or he’s a

hobo - hooray or boo-hoo - doesn’t

matter. ‘The years melted away as a

fifty year silence was broken with

two simple words: ‘Hello mum’.’ I

could write it now.

SALLY:

I didn’t know you were so cynical.

MARTIN:

I’ve been practising.

SALLY:

(Pause to sip her coffee)

Okay, do it.

MARTIN:

(Not quite believing it)

Really?

SALLY:

My assistant will call tomorrow to

make the arrangements - and no bar

bills.

MARTIN:

Thanks Sally, I really

appreciate...

He realises she’s already hung up. But he smiles to himself,

nonetheless.

CUT TO:

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PHILOMENA - Final Shooting Script 49.

53 INT. BREAKFAST ROOM, GUEST HOUSE - DAY 53

PHILOMENA, MARTIN and JANE sit at a table having breakfast.

MARTIN, now in full-on journalist mode, has his laptop open

and consults an A4 pad full of scrawled notes.

MARTIN:

-I am almost certain that Anthony

was taken to America after he was

adopted. The Abbey seems to have

dealt exclusively with American

customers.

JANE:

Customers? What do you mean?

MARTIN:

(Taking a sip of his tea)

They were the only ones who could

afford the fee.

She still looks confused so MARTIN clarifies things.

MARTIN (cont’d)

Anthony was sold.

JANE:

(Outraged)

But... that’s appalling.

PHILOMENA:

They were trying to give him a

better life.

JANE:

They were making money out of him!

A beat; they’re all silent for a moment. MARTIN takes a bite

of his soda bread.

MARTIN:

I got through to the Sacred Heart

Adoption Society in Cork first

thing this morning, but they just

referred me to the Irish Adoption

Board, who referred me back to the

Sacred Heart Adoption Society.

JANE:

Sending you round in circles!

MARTIN:

Yes - but I spoke to a few contacts

from my Washington days last night,

and there are avenues that can be

pursued there.

(MORE)

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PHILOMENA - Final Shooting Script 50.

MARTIN (cont'd)

The stumbling block, of course, is

that I can only get so far doing

things on your behalf Philomena.

But as you’re his mother, they are

duty bound to provide you with the

information.

Silence. PHILOMENA and JANE absorb this for a few moments.

JANE:

Are you suggesting my mother goes

to America with you?

MARTIN:

(Nervous, but trying to

sound ‘casual’)

If she wanted to. My editor has

agreed to pay for flights and

hotels for the two of us.

JANE:

(Turning to PHILOMENA)

How would you feel about that,

going to America?

PHILOMENA:

I don’t know.

MARTIN can’t resist a little bit of salesmanship.

MARTIN:

All I’d say is it’s an amazing

opportunity Philomena.

PHILOMENA turns this over in her mind. She looks at JANE;

then MARTIN.

JANE:

I could come with you if you like?

PHILOMENA:

No no no - you’ve got your work.

I’m more worried about Martin going

all that way with a daft old Irish

lady like me.

MARTIN:

I don’t think you’re daft... or

old.

PHILOMENA:

Oh go’way with you.

MARTIN:

Well maybe a little bit.

He says this as a joke but it doesn’t land quite as he

intended - PHILOMENA looks a little offended for a moment.

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PHILOMENA - Final Shooting Script 51.

PHILOMENA:

I’d like to go. I want to know if

he’s ever thought about me, ‘cos

I’ve thought about him every day...

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OUT on MARTIN, silently euphoric.

CUT TO:

54 INT. CHECK-IN, STANSTED AIRPORT - DAY 54

We establish the busy concourse: noise, movement, bustle.

Amongst this we FIND PHILOMENA and MARTIN at a check-in desk.

MARTIN is heaving their cases onto the conveyor belt.

CHECK-IN OPERATOR

Can I have your passports please?

MARTIN produces his passport from his jacket; PHILOMENA

searches for hers in her wheelie.

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