Red Riding Page #4

Eddie back in his crib. The telephone buzzer goes.

MOLLOY:

You haven’t got a story, son. Best

we find a body and quick. Check the

bins, see who’s got themselves an

early Away Day...

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EDDIE:

Right. Pull in the local Gypos and

Paddies...

MOLLOY:

Who said anything about Gypos?

EDDIE:

Well, I just thought... They’d be

likely suspects, wouldn’t they...?

MOLLOY:

Have we met before, son?

EDDIE:

Don’t think so, sir, no...

The buzzer goes again. Molloy’s on his feet.

MOLLOY:

Good. You do your digging, son, and

I’ll do mine. Now f*** off.

Watching Eddie go is Maurice Jobson in his heavy rimmed

specs... He switches on a smile for Molloy.

MAURICE JOBSON:

Problem?

MOLLOY:

New boy. Come in, Maurice.

25 INT/EXT. VIVA / MORLEY STREETS & JUNCTION - DAY 25

Eddie driving. Heater and radio on - the missing girl story

growing on National. Peering out at the dark world: PEOPLE

wrapped against the biting cold, dark factories, silent

mills, torn election posters Wilson, Heath -“Who Governs

Britain?”

Eddie pauses at the traffic lights. Across the street is

MORLEY GRANGE JUNIOR AND INFANTS SCHOOL. KIDS come out,

laughing and screeching. Eddie stares...

RADIO LEEDS:

...Clare was wearing an red kagool

and red Wellington boots. When

Clare left Morley Grange Junior and

Infants School...

He sees CLARE KEMPLAY. Red kagool, red Wellington boots, Coop

plastic bag. She’s standing apart from the others, smiling

at him across the street.

Eddie can’t hear the angry car horns behind him.

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Clare begins to skip along the road. Going home. Eddie drives

slowly - keeping pace with her. Traffic horns blare. Clare

pauses on the corner, waving at Eddie.

Eddie signals to turn up the road. A car angrily roars past

him. Screamed abuse. Clare’s little figure vanished.

26 INT/EXT. WINTERBOURNE AVENUE - DAY 26

Eddie drives up Winterbourne Avenue. A cul-de-sac of mixed

old and new semis. He pauses - looks across to: A POLICEMAN

stands on duty outside number 3. Mrs. Kemplay is at the

window, staring vacantly out, waiting in vain for her

daughter to return home. She never will.

26A EXT. MOTORWAY/ROCHDALE STREETS - DAY 26A

Eddie drives the Viva - exits the motorway and into Rochdale.

27 OMITTED 27

28 EXT. ROCHDALE, RIDYARD’S STREET - DAY 28

Eddie leaves his car. It’s a quiet street. Over the road are

spanking new houses: A DAWSON UK DEVELOPMENT. Eddie goes to

the front door of a semi opposite. Rings the bell...

An ancient missing poster of Susan Ridyard - smiling against

blue skies and fluffy clouds -is taped inside the window.

Eddie’s drawn by her smiling eyes... A NEIGHBOUR looks out.

NEIGHBOUR *

Reporter, are you? *

EDDIE *

That obvious, is it? *

NEIGHBOUR *

Seen a few round here. Ridyards *

aren’t in, love... *

EDDIE *

You don’t know when they’ll be *

back, do you? *

NEIGHBOUR *

Gone away for a few days. Can’t *

blame them. Brings it all back -*

what with them finding that new one *

over in Morley... *

The world stops. *

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EDDIE:

What?

NEIGHBOUR:

That young lass. They found her.

Just on news.

EDDIE:

They found Clare Kemplay?

NEIGHBOUR:

Dumped on a building site at

Devil’s Ditch.

29 OMITTED 29

30 INT. YORKSHIRE POST, OPEN PLAN OFFICE - DAY 30

Eddie marches through the clatter of typewriters and chatter.

Kath nervously gets to her feet. She looks terrible.

KATH:

Eddie...

EDDIE:

Thanks for telling me about the

Press Conference, Kath.

KATH:

F*** you, Eddie.

Ahead, a slick, sharp man with a shark smile, leans against a

desk, drawing on a cigarette. JACK WHITEHEAD.

EDDIE:

Jack Whitehead! Crime Reporter of

the Year. Fancy you being here.

JACK:

Glad you could join us, Scoop. Boss

wants to see you. Asap.

31 INT. YORKSHIRE POST, OUTSIDE HADLEY’S OFFICE - DAY 31

Fat Steph greets Eddie with a knowing smile.

STEPH:

Early bird and all that.

EDDIE:

Is it true you like it up Trap 2

from Jack?

STEPH:

You’re the one who’s f***ed, Scoop.

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32 INT. YORKSHIRE POST, HADLEY’S OFFICE - DAY 32

A copy of the Yorkshire Post hits Hadley’s desk:

CLARE KEMPLAY MURDERED

BY JACK WHITEHEAD, CRIME REPORTER OF THE YEAR.

HADLEY:

I hope there’s no bad feeling. I

mean I hope you don’t think you

were in any way bumped off the

story...

EDDIE:

I’m off the story?

HADLEY:

Not at all, not at all. You

couldn’t be reached. So I sent

Jack.

EDDIE:

So, now it’s Jack’s story?

HADLEY:

Look, I have a couple of other

things I want you to follow up. A

favour.

EDDIE:

A what? A favour?

HADLEY:

I want you to go to "Shangrila".

EDDIE:

Come again?

HADLEY:

“Shangrila”. It was a silver

wedding present apparently. Her

favourite film...

(Eddie still doesn’t get

it)

The Dawson place. John Dawson? The

construction magnate?

EDDIE:

What about him?

HADLEY:

Barry’s got a theory - local

corruption...

EDDIE:

No, not that! Not Barry Gannon’s

Dawsongate.

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HADLEY:

I want you to hold his hand.

EDDIE:

No one gives a f*** about local

government corruption.

HADLEY:

Barry seems to think Marjorie

Dawson will corroborate everything

he’s dug up on her husband...

(confidentially)

Look, Mrs. Dawson isn’t a well

woman. It’s ethically dubious to

bother her. I want you to make sure

Barry doesn’t go off the deep end.

EDDIE:

And what about Clare Kemplay?

HADLEY:

It’ll get solved in the next few

days or never.

EDDIE:

Who found her?

HADLEY:

Builder’s mate. Lad from

Fitzwilliam. Edward, I’m asking you

to drop it.

EDDIE:

Okay.

HADLEY:

Good. We’ll let Jack handle it for

the most part, shall we.

EDDIE:

Right. Team effort.

HADLEY:

That’s it. So, you’ll stay away

from Fitzwilliam, then...

EDDIE:

Absolutely, Mr. Hadley.

33 EXT. FITZWILLIAM, NEWSTEAD VIEW - DAY 33

Eddie drives the Viva through the rundown mining town - under

the daubed iron bridge: F*** FITZWILLIAM, F*** THE IRA. Into

the rundown mining town. The pit wheel, terraced houses,

burned out bus stops and closed-down shops...

Down Newstead View; a line of terraced houses.

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Standing at the road side, a car exhaust pipe in his hands,

is a SIMPLE MAN in overalls. He stares at Eddie as he passes.

His name is JOHN MYSHKIN.

*

*

Off Newstead View is a cul-de-sac that ends at the foot of a

great grassed-over slag heap. Netherton Close. Allotments,

abandoned cars, sheds and caravans dot the slope. Ponies,

rusting tractors, white vans, packs of dogs. KIDS playamongst the piles of scrap metal. Beyond are the bleak Moors.

34 EXT. 7 NETHERTON CLOSE - DAY 34

Eddie looks around. A GANG OF BOYS watch him whilst absentlysmashing an abandoned car. Eddie heads for number 7. A neatlawn. Empty garage.

The door is opened by a hard beauty in her late 30s.

EDDIE:

Mrs. Cole? Edward Dunford.

Yorkshire Post.

MARY COLE:

To see our Leonard, isn’t it?

EDDIE:

Just a quick chat.

MARY COLE:

He’s had enough with the police. Hedoesn’t need to keep going overit...

A gentle, commanding voice from inside the dark house:

MARTIN LAWS O/SMary. It’s all right. Go fetch your

son.

MARTIN LAWS. A tough, lean man in his early 40s. Shirtsleeves, muddy boots and dog collar. Watchful anduncompromising.

MARTIN LAWS:

We’ve all had enough of the policeround here, Mr. Dunford...

(shakes his hand)

Martin Laws. Better come in. Excuse

the mud. Allotment work.

35 INT. 7 NETHERTON CLOSE - DAY 35

A SIXTEEN YR. OLD BOY in tracksuit bottoms sits on the floor

before Eddie. He flicks lank hair out of his eyes. He’s got abruise over his eye. The front room is small and dank. Eddie,

Martin Laws and Mary Cole watch the boy.

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