Picnic at Hanging Rock Page #4

unless they're weak in the head.

You heard the bell.

Go and wash for supper.

Aren't you hungry?

Then you'd best go straight to bed.

Quickly.

Tell Mam'selle I don't want it.

Thank you.

But you must eat.

You'll get sick if you don't.

lm sick already.

If I eat that, I'll be even sicker.

Nonsense. Now come on, Miss Sara.

Do you know what, Minnie?

No. What?

I was in an orphanage once.

Were you, Sara?

I had a brother then...

...called Bertie.

I told the matron I wanted to be

a lady circus rider

on a white horse in a spangled dress.

She was afraid ld run away,

so she shaved my head.

I bit her arm. It bled.

So she painted my head

with gentian violet.

All through the forest

The north wind brings me no rest

And death is in the sky

I love you, Minnie.

I love you, darlin'.

I feel sorry for them kids.

The ones on the rock, you mean?

Yeah, them too.

I was thinkin' of them other poor

little devils... here at the college.

Them. They're all right.

Rollin' in cash, most of them.

Or at least their mothers and fathers are.

Some of them are orphans,

or wards or...

You know.

Now I know.

What do you know?

I know that Miranda is a Botticelli angel.

Hold it right there, thanks, gentlemen.

That's it.

Smile, please. Come on. Big smile.

Thank you, thank you.

Get those women

over here, please.

Now they crossed the creek

down there?

The rope.

Not that stuff. The other.

Give me that rope

over here.

What about

a cup of tea up here?

Ah, tea.

Hello!

Good, good.

As if looking up. Right up.

That's it. Looking for a cave

or something like that.

Little more expression in the face, sir.

Hello, Irma.

Madame Fitzhubert showed me in.

How do you feel?

Oh, Irma! Oh, Irma.

We thought you had gone for ever.

Let me look at you, chrie.

You are so pale

but prettier than ever.

Has the nephew paid you a visit yet?

The one who found you?

Yes.

And then the policeman.

And you couldn't...

I, I remember...

...nothing.

Nothing! I remember nothing!

Morning.

Send that reporter packing.

Girls, girls, get inside at once!

There you are,

Miranda dear.

You like these best.

Mr Whitehead gave them to me,

to give to you.

My dear...

...my sweet Miranda.

She likes daisies best of all.

Oh, Sara! Oh, Sara!

You do know that Miranda

might not come back.

Miranda knows lots of things

other people don't know.

Secrets.

She knew she wouldn't come back.

Fanny, you are ridiculously out of step.

Pay attention to the music, please!

Excuse me, Miss Lumley.

Voil, mes enfants!

See who we have with us today?

Our dear Irma is with us

but for a few hours.

She is leaving soon

to join her parents in Europe.

Alors, mes enfants. For ten minutes,

you may talk as you choose.

If you approve, Miss Lumley.

- Tell us, Irma! Tell us!

- Yes, Irma, tell us!

- Tell us, Irma! Tell us!

- What happened to Miranda, Irma?

- You know what happened. Tell us!

- Tell us, Irma!

Tell us, Irma!

- Why won't you tell us, Irma?

- You know where they are.

Just tell us, Irma, tell us.

They're dead! All dead and gone, Irma!

She's going to you know where!

You are a liar and a fool!

Mam'selle?

Its for her own good!

To cure her terrible stooping!

Come in.

Well? Come in.

My notice, ma'am.

Have we an invalid in the house?

Miss Sara's supper, ma'am.

Mademoiselle asked me,

seeing as the child's feeling poorly.

Minnie.

Kindly tell Miss Sara not to put her light

out until lve had a word with her.

Yes, ma'am.

This is not

a charitable institution.

You recall our recent discussion, Sara.

Answer me when I address you, child.

Yes.

I have considered your situation

most carefully,

and I have searched my mind and

my conscience for a solution.

But this is not a charitable institution.

And as your fees have not been

forthcoming, I have...

...been forced to make certain

arrangements on your behalf.

You will be returned to the orphanage.

God, help me!

You still thinking about that bloody rock?

I can't help it.

It comes back at night in dreams.

I had a funny dream last night.

There was this smell. Real strong.

It was like... like I was wide awake.

Dead quiet.

Pansies. That's what it smelt like.

And the whole place was all lit up,

bright as day.

Pitch black outside.

And there she is.

Who?

Who was it?

It was only a bloody dream!

My kid sister.

Haven't seen her since the orphanage.

She always liked pansies.

And she went... all sort of...

...misty-like.

I calls out,

'Sara, don't go yet. '

'Goodbye, Bertie,' she says.

'lve come a long way to see ya,

and now I must go. '

And she went.

Clear through that wall over there.

- Sit down, please, Mademoiselle.

- Merci.

We were speaking last night

about the Waybourne girl.

You expressed concern over

the state of her health.

Yes, Madame.

We have been relieved of

any further responsibility.

Her guardian, Mr Cosgrove, arrived

this morning and took her away with him.

But...

But was she fit enough to travel?

Apparently.

I should have been here

to supervise her packing.

I, myself, helped Sara put a few things

she especially wanted

into her little covered basket.

Mr Cosgrove was in a hurry to get away.

I shall not be coming

into luncheon, Mademoiselle.

Kindly tell them not to lay

a place for me.

Nor for Sara?

Nor for Sara.

Is that rouge I see on your cheek,

Mademoiselle?

Powder, Madame. I find it becoming.

Oh, God!

Thank you very much for

the lovely breakfast!

Bye-bye! Au revoir! Bye-bye!

Hope you have a nice holiday!

Bye-bye! Bye-bye! Au revoir!

Au revoir, mes enfants.

Frre Jacques, Frre Jacques

Dormez vous? Dormez vous?...

Au revoir!

Arthur, my late husband, and I,

always took our annual holidays

in Bournemouth.

Mmm. Its a delightful place.

Absolutely delightful.

Nothing changed. Ever.

For 40 years.

The pier, the sands and the people.

And that guest house. So dependable.

Completely and utterly dependable.

A little more, Mam'selle?

No, Madame.

As you wish.

I came to depend so much

on Greta McCraw.

So much masculine intellect.

I came to rely on that woman. Trust her.

How could she allow herself

to be spirited away?

Lost.

Raped.

Murdered in cold blood

like a silly schoolgirl on that...

...wretched Hanging Rock.

Will Sara Waybourne be coming back

this term, Madame?

.... Now where was I?

Oh, yes! Bournemouth.

What a delightful place!

Nothing changed. Ever.

Dirty kids.

Sara!

The body of Mrs Arthur Appleyard,

principal of Appleyard College,

was found at the base of Hanging Rock

on Friday 27th March, 1900.

Although the exact circumstances

of her death are not known,

it is believed she fell while

attempting to climb the rock.

A search for the missing schoolgirls

and their governess

continued spasmodically for

the next few years without success.

To this day, their disappearance

remains a mystery.

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