The Iron Lady Page #18

The STREAK of countryside, FLEETING and ABSTRACTED, a BLUR of

light and colour beyond.

Then just visible in the glass, NELLY’s reflection indistinct

yet rippling in the glass

Blue Revisions dated 11th June 2012 95.

PULL OUT TO REVEAL NELLY, quietly absent, face pale, staring

out of the train and seated opposite her-

PULL OUT TO AT LAST TO REVEAL THE SHADOWY FIGURE CAUGHT THE

GLASS AS DICKENS lost in correcting papers, blotted with

familiar scrawl, the title Our Mutual Friend just visible.

A distant GUFFAW, from the neighbouring compartment.

DICKENS looks over at NELLY

DICKENS:

Sleep and when you wake we shall

be home.

NELLY catches on this, she looks at him. Then closes her

eyes, trying to sleep, grief ever present, the ruby

bracelet on her wrist.

92 EXT. TRACK. COUNTRYSIDE. STAPLEHURST. DAY. 1865. 92

The train, pistons pumping, whistling along the track

93 INT. CARRIAGE. TRAIN. NEAR STAPLEHURST. KENT. DAY. 1865. 93

The TEARING STEADY RHYTHM OF TRAIN WHEELS AGAINST STEEL AND

TRACK-

The SCRATCH SCRATCH of his pen, against paper.

CLOSE UP ON NELLY looking out of the window, trying to sleep,

eyes catching on the fleeting landscape.

DICKENS lost in total concentration-

Suddenly, the train violently jolts-

The scream of PASSENGERS and screech of metal as carriages

visibly buckle-

The smash of glass, hands reaching out, NELLY, at once,

WHIPPED out of her seat arms thrown forward in useless

protection, FLUNG through a split carriage, and HURLED

through splinters of glass, a world upturned-

DICKENS OOV:

(shouting out)

Nelly

94 EXT. GRASSY BANK. NEAR TRACK. STAPLEHURST. DAY. 1865. 94

NELLY, eyes flickering open, her body twisted, her arm at an

odd angle, perhaps broken-

Around, the scatter of luggage, a trunk split open; silk

undergarments caught on a rowan bush.

Blue Revisions dated 11th June 2012 96.

NELLY’s POV of the buckled wreckage of the train. DICKENS

clambering out of a severed carriage, scrabbling down the

grassy bank, towards her.

Around him the TWIST OF WRECKAGE, BODIES LITTERED, the

GROANS OF THE WOUNDED, SMASHED UP SEATING, LUGGAGE HURLED

ACROSS THICK GRASS AND BRAMBLES, CHAOS ALL AROUND.

PORTER:

Sir-

Beyond the screams and shouts of the injured, a PORTER

dazed, but in charge, moving amongst them.

PORTER (CONT’D)

We are asking everyone able

bodied if they could help with

the most injured.

DICKENS:

Yes of course. I must help. Water.

People will need water.

PORTER:

(beat)

Is it Mr Dickens, Sir?

DICKENS hesitates, nods looking to NELLY, concerned not

wanting to leave her-

DICKENS:

Yes.

PORTER:

Were you travelling alone, Sir?

NELLY’s eyes catching on DICKENS, willing him to turn away.

NELLY:

(hushed/exhaled)

Go..go.

NELLY’s heart beat, thumping in her head until-

DICKENS OOV:

Yes..Yes. Quite alone. This young

lady is in need of assistance.

DICKENS turns, with a look of absolute despair as he walks

away, as he turns his head away from view.

PORTER:

We are dealing with the most

injured first.

NELLY’s vision fades, the blurry figure of DICKENS walking

away.

Blue Revisions dated 11th June 2012 97.

DICKENS OOV:

I’ll do what I can...

NELLY’s hands clasp the PORTER, not wanting to let him go,

slipping in and out of consciousness.

PORTER:

Madam, I will get one of the

ladies to attend to you as soon

as.

The PORTER nods to two YOUNG LADIES on the approach.

PORTER (CONT’D)

(moving off)

This way, Sir.

The two YOUNG LADIES pass, coming quickly to NELLY’s aid

with DICKENS seen following the PORTER.

YOUNG LADIES:

You poor dear.

Beyond the young TICKET COLLECTOR, wide eyed and dead,

thrown across the twisted track. NELLY, with the two YOUNG

LADIES, comforting her.

YOUNG LADIES (CONT’D)

We are here...We are here.

DICKENS moving amongst the dead, the dying and the wounded

offering brandy.

A page of Our Mutual Friend caught in the grass of the

embankment. DICKENS flattens it out, splattered with ink

and blood, pocketing it before moving on

95 INT. SCHOOLHALL. MARGATE. DUSK. 1885. 95

A thin pamphlet/ programme No Thoroughfare: A Drama in Five

Acts by Mr Wilkie Collins placed down on a chair by a

SCHOOLBOY methodically moving a long a row of seats. The rows

of chairs being laid out by two SCHOOLBOYS beyond-

The back of the hall, a MAID hurries to finish last minute

decorations, polish glasses and light lamps and candles on a

table laid out with a magnificent buffet-

The first PARENTS arriving led by MARY, GEORGE coming forward

to greet them, offering brief exchange, gesturing towards a

table.

CLOSE ON GEORGE turning to LAMBOURNE

GEORGE:

(hushed)

Where is my wife?

Blue Revisions dated 11th June 2012 98.

96 EXT. CHURCH. MARGATE. 1885. DUSK. 96

NELLY walking fast. A small church ahead of her. We might

sense the sea. Spiky winter trees, her breathing as she

walks.

97 EXT. CHURCH. MARGATE. 1885. DUSK. 97

NELLY enters a small graveyard. She is a lone figure

standing amongst the gravestones.

BENHAM (O.S.)

Ellen Ternan.

NELLY turns, surprised. BENHAM standing near the entrance of

the church, caught in the half light. His face slightly

shadowed by a hat.

NELLY:

(nods)

Yes. That was my name. You have

always known this?

BENHAM:

Suspected. Things you said,

comments, memories of Mr Dickens

that were not a child’s memories.

NELLY stands, distracted, BENHAM sensing she needs something

from him. BENHAM gestures to a bench to one side of the small

cemetery.

BENHAM (CONT’D)

I saw him read once. It was

magical. Row upon row craning

forward, marvelling at this

transformation. One forgets that he

was more than writer, more than

actor. He would pull you soaring,

spinning into the heart of another

world.

BENHAM smiles, betraying his utter admiration.

BENHAM (CONT’D)

I have lived my life in the pages

of those novels.

BENHAM smiles, suddenly moved.

BENHAM (CONT’D)

I should not have expected their

author to live so quiet a life.

BENHAM quietly considers NELLY.

Blue Revisions dated 11th June 2012 99.

BENHAM (CONT’D)

You inspired him.

NELLY:

Perhaps. I don’t know. I would say

Maybe we inspired each other. It

was not easy our friendship. Never

quite knowing when one would see

him, when or even if he would

arrive. It was often fragile -And

yet there were days of such

joy..such celebration..When we

would talk..laugh together..But

there were moments towards the end

when I dreaded his visits...perhaps

even his touch. But we needed each

other. In our secret life. I was

his magic circle of one.

(beat)

There was a day, when he took me to

the house, where I was to live.

She gets lost in her thought.

BENHAM:

Mrs Wharton Robinson-

NELLY, trying to make sense of it, searching for words.

NELLY:

I have thought about it often. The

moment when I finally accepted what

our life was to be.

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