Red Riding

1 OMITTED OMITTED 1

2 EXT. LEEDS - DUSK 2

Blue blue skies. Fluffy white clouds drift... Down through

the clouds to the dusk over the doleful city. The red sun

sinks. Darkness draws in.

RED RIDING:

NINETEEN SEVENTY FOUR

3 EXT. DAWSON CONSTRUCTION SITE, DEVIL’S DITCH - NIGHT 3

A silent, frozen night. We are drawn as in a nightmare - down

a lane signposted to: DEVIL’S DITCH... Past half-built houses

and dormant earth moving vehicles. Everything iced over... A

white feather flutters on the ground... Down into the

building site...

To the black trough of the foundations. We glimpse: in the

very bottom amongst the rusting rods embedded in concrete -

the lovely head, shoulders and wing of A DEAD ANGEL.

WAKEFIELD:

The Year of Our Lord 1974

The image scratches. The colour bleeds.

4 OMITTED 4

5 INT/EXT. VIVA / M1 MOTORWAY - DAY 5

Rain sluices across the windscreen. Sparks on the radio:

“This town ain’t big enough for the both of us...”

A stuffed holdall on the back seat. A black jacket sways from

a hook. 5 inch lapels. An old wrist watch on the dash. Fag

smoked down to the tip - used to light a fresh one.

EDDIE DUNFORD - youthful, ambitious, libidinous. Elongated

shirt collar and kipper tie. Booming down the M1. Headed

North. Singing along.

He checks the time.

EDDIE:

F***.

F***ed and he’s only just started. He drives like a demon.

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6 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM, WAKEFIELD POLICE STATION - DAY 6

Eddie, late and sweating. Editor, BILL HADLEY, grey beard,

grey eyes, is talking to an owlish, bespectacled man -

DETECTIVE SUPERINTENDENT MAURICE JOBSON. Hadley looks

pointedly at his watch.

HADLEY:

Sorry to hear about your father,

Edward.

EDDIE:

Thanks, Mr. Hadley. He had a good

innings.

HADLEY:

(to Jobson)

This is Detective Superintendent

Jobson. Mr. Dunford’s hoping to be

the Post’s new Crime Correspondent.

They shake hands.

MAURICE JOBSON:

I’ve always got along very well

with Jack Whitehead...

EDDIE:

(gritted teeth)

Good old Jack.

HADLEY:

Mr. Dunford’ll be standing in.

Trial period.

Jobson watches Eddie head through the smoky room packed with

beery JOURNOS. TV lights, notebooks, memo recorders.

MAURICE JOBSON:

Local man?

HADLEY:

Cut his teeth at our Yorkshire

Post. Been down South.

MAURICE JOBSON:

Young Turk, then.

HADLEY:

Made a pig’s ear of it down there

as I understand.

Eddie shoves his way down a row of chairs. Faces he knows and

who we’ll meet later. An old girlfriend mouths ‘hello’ spaniel

eyes - KATHRYN TYLER.

EDDIE:

Kath.

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Eddie sits beside BARRY GANNON - skinny, single, obsessed.

BARRY:

She’s serious. Sad eyes never lie.

EDDIE:

F*** off, Barry. That’s history.

BARRY:

Here, funeral’s in 2 hours. It’s

going to be tight.

EDDIE:

We’ll make it.

BARRY:

How’s your mother?

EDDIE:

You know, bearing up.

BARRY:

Yorkshire lass through and through.

EDDIE:

(checks round)

Where’s Whitehead?

BARRY:

Jack? On the piss probably. Don’t

worry, son, you got your legs well

under the table. Just do the job.

EDDIE:

Yeah. F*** him. He’s not getting in

on this one.

BARRY:

Aye up, the Owl’s on.

Up front, Maurice Jobson takes the stage with DETECTIVE CHIEF

SUPERINTENDENT BILL MOLLOY - late 50s, a big man, a dangerous

man. They flank a POLICE WOMAN and a crumpled couple: MR. and

MRS. KEMPLAY.

Beside them is an enlarged school photograph of a smiling 10

year old girl against a backdrop of a blue sky with fluffy

white clouds. We recognise her as the Dead Angel. Eddie

switches on his memo recorder.

MAURICE JOBSON:

Gentlemen, it’s been a long night

for everyone, especially Mr. and

Mrs. Kemplay. So we’ll keep this

brief. At about 4 p.m.

(MORE)

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yesterday evening, 3rd September,

Clare Kemplay disappeared on herway home from Morley Grange Juniorand Infants. Clare is ten yearsold. She was wearing an red kagool,

a dark blue turtleneck sweater,

pale blue denim trousers and redWellington boots. When Clare leftschool, she was carrying a plasticCo-op carrier bag containing a pairof black gym shoes... Mrs. Kemplaywould now like to read a short

statement. Thank you.

MAURICE JOBSON (cont'd)

Jobson turns the mic towards MRS. KEMPLAY. Camera flashes.

Poor cow.

BARRY:

EDDIE:

“If it bleeds, it leads,” right?

(a nasty thought)

Reckon dad did it?

MRS. KEMPLAY

I would like to appeal to anybodywho knows where my Clare is or whosaw her after yesterday teatime toplease telephone the police. Clareis a very happy girl and I know shewould never just run off withouttelling me. Please, if you knowwhere she is or if you’ve seen her,

please... please... please...

Chokes. Can’t go on. The POLICEWOMAN comforts her.

Eddie is transfixed by Mrs. Kemplay’s distress.

7 INT. VIVA, M1 MOTORWAY - DAY 7 *

Eddie’s watch ticks away the seconds on the dash. Back on the

M1. Barry alongside him. He works out his copy aloud:

*

*

EDDIE:

“The mother of missing ten year oldClare Kemplay made an emotionalplea...”

*

*

*

*

Barry stills him with a brotherly hand. *

BARRY:

“As fears grew, a mother made anemotional plea...”

*

*

*

8 OMITTED 8 *

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9 INT. DEWSBURY CREMATORIUM, CREMATOR - DAY 9 *

A coffin slides into the incinerator. Gas ignites. Everything

is turned to smoke and ash.

10 OMITTED 10

10A OMITTED 10A

11 INT. EDDIE’S MOTHER’S HOUSE, HALL - LATE DAY 11

Eddie and Barry are let in by ANCIENT AUNTY WIN. They get out

of their coats.

EDDIE:

Aunty Win.

AUNTY WIN:

Eddie. We were worried about you,

love.

BARRY *

Traffic was appalling, Win. *

AUNTY WIN *

Let’s get you both a cup of tea. *

Come on through. *

Barry goes with Aunty Win. Eddie is left alone for a brief

moment. There’s the sound of the MOURNERS chatting from the

front room.

Eddie checks his watch - looks back down the hall to see...

HIS FATHER. Impeccably suited. Standing in the coloured light

filtering from the front door window. Winding his watch. The

same watch Eddie now wears.

EDDIE’S MOTHER O/S

Edward?

EDDIE’S MOTHER, care worn, bearing up. His tight-lipped

sister, SUSAN, beside her. Eddie kisses his mother. *

EDDIE *

Mum. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry *

I’m late. *

EDDIE’S MOTHER *

“Business before pleasure” he *

always said... *

SUSAN *

She means dad. You remember dad. *

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No dad in the hall. Just motes. Eddie’s mother holds him. *

EDDIE’S MOTHER

It’s good you’re home, son.

12 INT. EDDIE’S MOTHER’S HOUSE, FRONT ROOM -EVENING 12

UNCLE ERIC holds court amongst the GROUP OF RELATIONS ANDFRIENDS. Cups of tea, slices of cake.

UNCLE ERIC:

...So, then Southern bloke asks Old

farmer if he knows the way to town.

Old farmer says he don’t know. SoSoutherner says, you don’t knowbloody much, do you? Old farmer

says...

*

*

*

EDDIE:

...that’s as may be, but am not theone that’s lost!

*

*

UNCLE ERIC:

One of your father’s. He was a goodman, your father. You knew whereyou were with him. Reliable.

*

*

*

*

A chill... Aunty Win waves the evening paper. *

AUNTY WIN:

Well now, would everyone look atthis! Edward Dunford, North of

England Crime Correspondent.

(reading)

“Mrs Sandra Kemplay made anemotional plea this morning...”

EDDIE’S MOTHER

Did you write that, son?

BARRY:

Our new Byline Boy, is Eddie.

SUSAN:

We’ll be asking for his autograph

next.

AUNTY WIN:

He’ll always be Little Eddie to me.

EDDIE:

Thanks Aunty Win.

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