Testament of Youth Page #2

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His wife is both more delicate and more level-headed - once

less conventional than her husband, now the subservient wife,

she flaps on the surface, but underneath exerts complete

domestic control.

MR. BRITTAIN

(seeing her)

Vera! Come and see your surprise!

Her mother comes over and takes her arm.

MRS. BRITTAIN

I’ve been dying to tell you, but I

just couldn’t. Mrs. Ellinger’s been

in on the secret, she wants to hear

you play!

Mr. Brittain opens the piano lid with a flourish. Vera holds

back, her expression is tight and sullen.

MR. BRITTAIN

She’s an absolute beauty - so I’m

told. Come on darling, give us a

taste of what we can look forward

to!

As the delivery men finish and leave, Mrs. Brittain takes a

seat next to a very proper Mrs. Ellinger and her daughter.

Victor sits too.

An expectant silence. Edward gives Vera a pained look - he

understands her feelings. She goes and sits at the piano

- Stares at the keys for a long beat

Hands raised

Then brings them CRASHING down, BANGING out a CACOPHANY!

She stops - stark silence. Her mother and Mrs. Ellinger look

shocked. Vera leaps up and heads for the door, her father

immediately on her trail

11 INT. LIVING ROOM DOOR/HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS 11

Mr. Brittain stops her before she can go any further.

MR. BRITTAIN

Vera! Come back and apologise now!

Vera’s expression is defiant. Mrs. Brittain hovers anxiously

in the background with the others.

MR. BRITTAIN (CONT’D)

If you can’t show me the respect I

deserve, then at least show some

for our guests!

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Their faces are close, Vera’s pent-up anger and hurt almost

bursting out.

VERA:

I don’t want a piano. You knew I

didn’t want one and still you

bought it! I won’t be bullied by

you!

Mr. Brittain turns to his wife, looking incredulous.

MR. BRITTAIN

I buy her the most expensive gift

of her life, but no, I’m bullying

her!

MRS. BRITTAIN

Your father hoped you’d be happy,

dear

VERA:

That piano could pay for a whole

year at Oxford!

MR. BRITTAIN

Ah, here we go again!

VERA:

(bursting)

All this time you said you couldn’t

afford for me to go!

MR. BRITTAIN

I can’t afford to waste money, no!

Vera glowers at him in speechless fury - turns and STOMPS

upstairs.

He glances at his wife, who gives him an admonishing look

MR. BRITTAIN

Vera - I didn’t mean - VERA! Come

back here!

MRS BRITTAIN:

Oh dear. (to Mrs Ellinger) I do

apologise...

11A INT. VERA’S BEDROOM, BUXTON - A SECOND LATER 11A

Vera is in her room, looking round for an outlet for her fury

and frustration

She sees a pile of papers on her desk, covered in her

scrawled hand writing, and a small pile of books - she

gathers up the whole lot, marches over to the window, chucks

it all out -

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11B INT. HALLWAY - SAME TIME 11B

Edward is starting up the stairs after Vera, when they hear

the thud of objects falling - - they turn to see, through the

open doorway behind them, a shower of papers floating down to

the ground.

Mr. Brittain groans in exasperation. Vera charges back down

the stairs.

VERA:

I’ve thrown my work out, you can

take it to your factory and pulp it

for all I care!

MR BRITTAIN:

Now stop it! I’m simply concerned

you’re turning yourself into a

bluestocking, because they don’t

find husbands!

VERA:

I don’t want a husband!

On VICTOR - a little crestfallen at this.

VERA:

How many times do I have to spell

it out?! I’m sorry you didn’t have

a daughter whose sole purpose in

life is to hitch herself to a man,

but there it is! I’m not getting

married, not now, not ever!

A sound makes them all turn. ROLAND stands there, holding

his luggage; well-built, with an intense gaze and a self-

assurance beyond his 19 years, he’s a physical, sensual

person. We see him from Vera’s perspective.

Everyone is caught by the moment. After a pause -

ROLAND:

(small smile)

Well. That’s clear, then.

Vera glares at him for a moment, then turns and stomps

upstairs. Edward and Victor descend on him, shaking hands.

12 INT. LIVING ROOM - EVENING 12

A maid lights an oil lamp as Edward sits at the piano, his

musician’s hands running along the keys, playing a gentle

melody. He hears a sound, looks up, sees Vera watching him,

as the maid slips out.

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EDWARD:

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve

wanted one of these.

Vera comes and sits next to him at the piano.

VERA:

(contrite)

Oh Edward, I was so caught up in

myself - I didn’t think what this

must be like for you.

EDWARD:

(the piano)

She certainly didn’t deserve the

treatment you gave her.

VERA:

Well - I got you your piano, that’s

something to be happy about at

least.

EDWARD:

Oxford really means a lot to you,

doesn’t it?

VERA:

(heart felt)

I can’t breathe here...

Edward smiles in understanding, he plays a few bars.

VERA (CONT’D)

We’ll escape marriage and the paper

factory yet!

He carries on playing - a beautiful melody. Vera is lost in

the music for a moment, gazing at her brother with love and

awe at his talent.

A sound makes them look up. Roland and Victor come in. Edward

keeps playing. They come over and listen to the music, Roland

watching Vera.

Something in his gaze makes her feel self-conscious. She gets

up, walks to the other side of the room.

Victor joins Edward at the piano and they switch into a

jaunty duet. Then Roland joins them - they all play together,

a fun routine that’s obviously familiar.

Vera watches them, chuckling - seeing how united they are.

13 EXT. GARDEN, MELROSE - TWILIGHT 13

Vera is outside in the dark, searching in the shrubbery for

her books and papers.

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From inside, we can hear the piano still being played. A

sound makes her start - she turns to see Roland, smoking a

cigarette, quietly watching her.

VERA:

You frightened me!

ROLAND:

Can I help?

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VERA:

No thanks.

But he stubs his cigarette out, starts searching anyway.

VERA (CONT’D)

Please, I’d rather be by myself.

ROLAND:

(playful)

It’s the books I’m worried about,

I’ve never seen anyone beat them up

that way!

Roland finds a few battered books. Then picks up a piece of

paper, glowing white in the dusk. He sees it’s a hand-written

poem, and makes the snap decision to pocket it.

ROLAND:

(looking at the books)

Wordsworth, Shelley. Poor Byron.

All these romantics aren’t good for

you, you know.

She snatches them from him, examines them for damage, then

leafs through the pages, as though looking for something.

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