The English Patient Page #7

CLIFTON:

The team is in mourning, darling.

KATHARINE:

Oh really?

MADOX:

I'm afraid we're not having much luck

obtaining funds for the expedition.

KATHARINE:

How awful. What will you do?

MADOX:

A more modest expedition, or even wait a

year. Remind our families we still exist.

CLIFTON:

(astonished)

Good heavens, are you married, Madox?

MADOX:

Very much so. We are all, save my

friend here.

He nods at Almasy. Clifton appears tremendously relieved.

CLIFTON:

I feel much better, don't you darling?

We were feeling rather self-conscious.

Let's toast, then. To absent wives.

D'AGOSTINO

(toasting Katharine)

And present ones.

KATHARINE:

(toasting Alm�sy)

And future ones.

53INT. SHEPHEARD'S HOTEL. NIGHT.

THE BALLROOM. A dance finishes. Alm�sy takes over from D'Agostino to

partner Katharine. They dance beautifully. The others remain on the

terrace in deep conversation.

KATHARINE:

Why did you follow me yesterday?

ALM�SY

Excuse me?

KATHARINE:

After the market, you followed me

to the hotel.

ALM�SY

I was concerned. As I said, women in

that part of Cairo, a European women,

I felt obliged to.

KATHARINE:

You felt obliged to.

ALM�SY

As the wife of one of our party.

KATHARINE:

(sardonic)

So why follow me? Escort me, by

all means. Following me is

predatory, isn't it?

The dance finishes. They walk back to their table, where Alm�sy leads

Katharine back to her seat next to Clifton.

CLIFTON:

I was just saying, I'm going to cable

Downing Street, see if I can't stir up

a few shillings - Katharine's mother

and the PM's wife are best -

KATHARINE:

(interrupting)

Darling, for goodness' sake!

CLIFTON:

Well, she is!

54*.INT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DAY.

Hana, having already replaced the bedlinen, is standing on a stepladder

trying to hang home-made drapes around the bed as Caravaggio knocks

tentatively, then comes in.

CARAVAGGIO:

Hello.

THE PATIENT:

Finally! So you're our

Canadian pickpocket?

He goes to help Hana, they work as he talks.

CARAVAGGIO:

Thief, I think, is more accurate.

THE PATIENT:

I understand you were in Africa.

Whereabouts?

CARAVAGGIO:

Oh, all over.

THE PATIENT:

All over? I kept trying to cover

a very modest portion and still failed.

(to Hana)

Are you leaving us? Now's our

opportunity to swap war wounds.

HANA:

Then I'm definitely going.

And she exits. The men consider her.

CARAVAGGIO:

Does she have war wounds?

55*.INT. THE MONASTERY. HANA'S ROOM. DAY.

As Hana walks up her stairs she finds herself overhearing their

conversation as it threads up through the hole in the ceiling. She

strips her own bed of the curtain she uses for a sheet.

THE PATIENT:

I think anybody she ever loves

tends to die on her.

CARAVAGGIO:

Are you planning to be the exception?

THE PATIENT:

Me? You've got the wrong end of

the stick, old boy.

(a pause)

So - Caravaggio - Hana thinks you

invented your name.

CARAVAGGIO:

And you've forgotten yours.

THE PATIENT:

I told her you would never invent

such a preposterous name.

CARAVAGGIO:

I told her you can forget everything

but you never forget your name.

56*.EXT. BEACH CABIN. ITALY. DAY. 1944.

HANA IS STILL LISTENING BUT NOW SHE'S OUTSIDE A CABIN. She's in her

uniform, clearing things away. The Cabin door is ajar. An OFFICER

moves around, then sits to make notes.

OFFICER (O/S)

What about your rank or serial number?

THE PATIENT (O/S)

No. I think I was a pilot. I was found

near the wreckage of a plane by the

Bedouin. I was with them for some time.

THIS CONVALESCENCE HOSPITAL HAS BEEN FASHIONED FROM A LONG ROW OF

BATHING CABINS ON THE COAST, complete with Campari Umbrellas and metal

tables, at which are seated the bandaged and the dying and the

comatose, staring out to sea or in slow, muted conversation. Hana

walks up to the Patient's cabin. He is propped up with a view of the

sea, which is interrupted by the pacing Officer. Hana has a blanket

and a chart for the Patient's bed. She busies herself.

OFFICER:

Do you remember where you were born?

THE PATIENT:

Am I being interrogated? You should be

trying to trick me. Ask me about

Tottenham Hotspur. Or Buckingham Palace.

About Marmite - I was addicted. Or make

me speak German, which I can, by the way.

OFFICER:

Why? Are you German?

THE PATIENT:

No.

OFFICER:

How do you know you're not German if

you don't remember anything?

THE PATIENT:

You tell me. I remember a lot of things.

I remember a garden, plunging down to

the sea - the Devil's Chimney we called

it - and there was a cottage at the

bottom, right on the shore, nothing

between you and France.

OFFICER:

This was your garden?

THE PATIENT:

Or my wife's.

OFFICER:

Then you were married?

THE PATIENT:

I think so. Although I believe that

to be true of a number of Germans.

Might I have a glass of water?

Hana pours him a glass of water. He notices her.

THE PATIENT:

Thank you.

(he sips)

Look - my lungs are useless -

(makes a small gap with

his fingers)

I've got this much lung...the rest

of my organs are packing up -

what could it possibly matter if I

were Tutankhamun? I'm a bit of

toast, my friend - butter me and

slip a poached egg on top.

Hana leaves, smiling at the Patient's irascibility, sharing this with

the Officer, who frowns. The interview continues.

57EXT. BEACH CABIN. DAY.

Hana walks between the cabins. STUART steps out of the shade. He is

drawn, older than last seen.

STUART:

My leave is canceled. I can't

meet you later.

Hana frowns, helpless. As if to emphasize this, a Staff Nurse comes

by, carrying a bowl and a withering look.

58*.INT. BEACH CABIN. DAY.

Hana enters, approaches the Patient. She's circumspect.

HANA:

Excuse me -

THE PATIENT:

Yes?

HANA:

Can I ask - my friend, can he come in?

Just for a few minutes?

THE PATIENT:

Your friend?

HANA:

He's going back to the front this

evening. I can't see him otherwise.

THE PATIENT:

Just go off. I'll be quite all right.

HANA:

No, I can't go, but if it, if you weren't

offended, it would be very good of you

to allow us - every other cabin is crammed.

This is as private as we'll get.

THE PATIENT:

Well then - yes. Of course.

HANA:

Thank you. Thank you.

She hurries out, returns with Stuart. They stand awkwardly.

HANA:

This is Captain McGann.

THE PATIENT:

Please, don't waste your time on

pleasantries -

STUART:

Thanks.

THE PATIENT:

I'm going to sing. If I sing I shan't

hear anything.

And with that he bursts into a raucous, coughing version of Yes! We

Have No Bananas. He changes language each verse. The couple stand,

formal, then edge round to the back of the bed.

HANA:

(touching his lip)

You've got a mustache.

STUART:

A bit of one.

HANA:

I was looking forward to this evening.

STUART:

(whispers)

I had a hotel room.

HANA:

(whispers)

I thought that was for when we

were very very old?

STUART:

I'm feeling old.

They EMBRACE, fiercely, hardly making a sound, or moving. THE PATIENT

ROARS THE SONG.

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