Red Riding Page #2

1974.TG.170808 Locked Draft - 1st Revision

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UNCLE ERIC:

It’s a step up. Pity your father’s

not here to see it. He’d’ve been

proud.

EDDIE:

(not so sure)

Thinks so?

Uncle Eric looks inside Eddie’s jacket.

UNCLE ERIC:

That’s not one of his, is it?

EDDIE:

Lord John, this. Carnaby Street.

SUSAN:

Oh, aye.

Aunty Win’s shaking her head over the newspaper report.

AUNTY WIN:

It doesn’t look good, does it? This

Kemplay lass.

BARRY:

24 hours and not a thing...

AUNTY WIN:

There’s been a couple now, haven’t

there?

EDDIE:

Have there?

EDDIE’S MOTHER

Going back. Wasn’t there a little

lass, in Rochdale?

AUNTY WIN:

That is going back. There was one

not long ago. In Castleford.

Jeanette, was it?

BARRY:

Jeanette Garland. Never found her

neither.

EDDIE:

Didn’t they?

Eddie is suddenly interested.

BARRY:

Hear them wheels...

1974.TG.170808 Locked Draft - 1st Revision

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AUNTY WIN:

Never caught no one.

BARRY:

Never do, though, do they?

13 INT. YORKSHIRE POST, RECORDS - EVENING 13

Microfische flashes from reel to reel. Opened boxes at his

elbow, Eddie stares at the screen. Stops. Flashes forward.

Too far. Forward. Names and events from the past flash:

BERNADETTE DEVLIN - HAROLD WILSON - THE MOON SHOT. Then:

APRIL 1969.

JACK WHITEHEAD, NORTH OF ENGLAND CRIME CORRESPONDENT.

“Susan Louise Ridyard, aged 10, has

been missing since 20th March. She

was last seen outside Trinity

Grange Junior and Infants School,

Rochdale...”

Eddie spins on. A photograph of “Detective Chief

Superintendent Bill Molloy”. Eddie makes notes. The

Microfische flashes forward in time.

JULY 1972.

JACK WHITEHEAD, NORTH OF ENGLAND CRIME CORRESPONDENT.

A school photograph of another smiling 9 year old - again

against a sky of fluffy white clouds...

“Jeanette Garland from Castleford went missing yesterday...”

A photo of the mother - PAULA GARLAND - blonde, hard-

beautiful. Dark glasses. Head down.

14 INT. YORKSHIRE POST, OPEN PLAN OFFICE - EVENING 14

Eddie comes through the busy open plan office. Clatter of

typewriters and chatter. GEORGE GREAVES - an old hand -

gossips with GAZ FROM SPORT. He nods at Eddie.

GEORGE GREAVES:

It’s the Prodigal returned.

Eddie juggles ‘V’ signs at George.

15 INT. YORKSHIRE POST, OUTSIDE HADLEY’S OFFICE -EVENING 15

From behind her desk, FAT STEPH gives Eddie a sour face.

EDDIE:

Here to shee the old man, Mish

Moneypenny...

1974.TG.170808 Locked Draft - 1st Revision

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STEPH:

Didn’t cut it down South, then.

16 INT. YORKSHIRE POST, HADLEY’S OFFICE -EVENING 16

A magnifying glass moves over a black and white photo of

footballers. Gordon McQueen goes for a cross. No ball in the

photo. Editor, Bill Hadley studies ‘Spot the Ball’ photos.

Eddie sits opposite - ambitious, impatient.

EDDIE:

Three missing girls. Aged between

eight and ten. 1969, 1972 - and

then day before yesterday. All of

them go missing within miles of one

another. It’s the A34 Murders all

over again.

HADLEY:

Oh, let’s hope so, Mr. Dunford.

EDDIE:

Fingers crossed, eh.

HADLEY:

I was being sarcastic, Edward.

EDDIE:

Sorry.

HADLEY:

Did you talk to Jack Whitehead

about this?

EDDIE:

This is my story, isn’t it, Mr.

Hadley.

HADLEY:

“Spot the Ball’ is the reason 39%

of working-class males buy this

paper...

EDDIE:

(wants to kill him)

Interesting...

HADLEY:

What do you honestly think?

EDDIE:

About working class males?

HADLEY:

Do you think it could be the same

man?

1974.TG.170808 Locked Draft - 1st Revision

EDDIE:

Yeah. Yes, I do.

Hadley appraises Eddie - seen that ambition before.

HADLEY:

All right. I’ll arrange for you to

have a one to one with DCS Molloy

first thing.

EDDIE:

(set to go)

Thank you, sir...

HADLEY:

He’ll ask you not to write the

story. You’ll agree, And he’ll

appear grateful.

EDDIE:

Mr. Hadley...

HADLEY:

But you’ll go ahead and do all the

background work anyway. Human

Interest. Five Years On or

whatever. So if you’re right, we

won’t be left in the starting

stalls.

EDDIE:

Right...

HADLEY:

Might as well tell you, Bill Molloy

suspects itinerants.

EDDIE:

Itinerants?

HADLEY:

Gypsies.

EDDIE:

There’s a surprise.

HADLEY:

Don’t push him. This paper has an

excellent relationship with our

newly amalgamated Police Force. I’d

like to keep it that way.

EDDIE:

(f*** that)

Of course, sir.

Eddie heads for the door.

1974.TG.170808 Locked Draft - 1st Revision

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HADLEY:

You really ought to have a go at

these. Right up your street.

EDDIE:

Thank you, sir, I will.

Eddie’s bright face. Murder in his heart.

17 INT. THE PRESS CLUB - NIGHT 17

Eddie - Jumping Jack Flash - heads through the red darkness

of a bar in hell. Genuine Formica veneer, booze, fag smoke, a

small stage where A WOMAN IN A FEATHERED DRESS belts out

“We’ve Only Just Begun”.

A table of CRONIES: Barry Gannon, George Greaves, Gaz.

Snatches of journo chat:

GEORGE GREAVES:

They’d hacked f***ing swan’s wings

off. Clean off! Left poor bastard

lying there...

GAZ:

You’re joking!

GEORGE GREAVES:

Still alive apparently. Kids, they

think...

Eddie glad-hands as he passes. Doesn’t veer off True North:

the bar decked in fairy lights. Barry tags along with Eddie.

They shove through the CROWD.

BARRY:

How’d it go with Hadley?

EDDIE:

He doesn’t want me pushing the

unsolveds with Molloy.

BARRY:

Right. Background sh*t. Interview

the families. Mr. and Mrs. Parents

of the Missing, Presumed Dead.

EDDIE:

They’ll be following Clare Kemplay.

Be back there anyway.

BARRY:

And you’ll help them. Catharsis.

EDDIE:

F*** off.

1974.TG.170808 Locked Draft - 1st Revision

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The bar-woman, BET, has Eddie’s drink ready for him. Pint and

a whisky. Eddie downs the scotch, quenches it with the beer.

EDDIE:

Same again for me, Bet. And a...?

BARRY:

Scotch and water.

EDDIE:

Large scotch and water.

BARRY:

One thing is for sure - they’re

linked all right. I know it.

EDDIE:

Yeah...? Linked to what?

BARRY:

How long have you got? Everything’s

linked, Eddie. Show me two things

that aren’t.

EDDIE:

Stoke City and f***ing

Championship?

BARRY:

Eddie, it’s a conspiracy. We’ve got

MI5 keeping an eye on our Harold.

And Mountbatten waiting in the

wings with a military junta...

EDDIE:

Bollocks.

BARRY:

There are Death Squads out there.

They give them a taste in Northern

Ireland, then bring ‘em back home

hungry.

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