The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane Page #6

Synopsis: Rynn Jacobs is a thirteen-year-old girl who lives in a secluded house that she and her father have rented in a quiet seaside community. But whenever anybody from the town tries to satisfy their curiosity, Rynn's father is never around, and it seems as if the girl is all alone. Rynn's resourcefulness is put to the test as several people try to find out what she might be hiding, including the snobby landlady and her sleazy son.
Director(s): Nicolas Gessner
Production: Rank Film Distributors
  2 wins & 4 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.1
Rotten Tomatoes:
90%
PG
Year:
1976
91 min
273 Views


the way he becomes, you know?

That may sound stupid,

but you don't know my...

Yes, Rynn, what is it?

Father, I'd like you to meet

Officer Miglioriti.

- You know, the one I told you about.

- Good evening, sir.

- Sorry to bother you.

- Yes, quite all right. Quite all right.

I'm the one to apologise.

I confess to being a bit tired.

So how can my daughter and I help you?

No, no problem, no problem.

Rynn, nip into my study,

get one of my books, will you?

And a pen, please.

Rynn tells me we've promised you

an autographed copy.

If you'd be good enough

to spell Miglioriti.

"Ron" will be okay.

Yes, Ron, okay. Here.

Ron, from Lester.

Well, it's really been nice

to meet you, sir.

Yes, it's a pleasure. Good night.

- Good night, sir.

- Good night.

- See you later, Rynn.

- Good night.

Guess I owe you an apology, huh?

That's all right. Don't worry about it.

- Good night.

- I hope you enjoy the book.

Thanks.

You were great. Your voice was so deep.

Yeah.

Yeah, it's this damn cold.

How do you spell Miglioriti?

How would I have known

if you hadn't come back?

- I would have come back anyway.

- I hoped you would.

Remember? You said

I don't trust anybody.

You know, we should have told

Uncle Ron what he was interrupting.

A gentleman never tells.

Well, maybe in England they don't...

but here they never shut up about it.

I'll bet half... Well, hell,

most of the football team...

that's all they ever do,

is talk about it.

You know, I won't tell anybody.

You know, we have to trust each other...

because most people don't

go through as much as we have.

Not even in a whole entire lifetime.

No one will know about us.

I never knew how much I needed you.

Ever think maybe I'm playing your game?

Because you want to?

No. Because I love you.

Thank you.

- You're gonna catch my cold.

- I don't care.

You know, when I told you

I didn't mind being alone, I lied.

Don't ever leave, okay?

With all this snow,

it's a good time to see...

if you and your father

have had any visitors.

I love detective stories.

Do you read Agatha Christie?

All her murder mysteries take place...

in the most beautiful

old English country houses.

See these?

Footprints. They're mine

and my father's, I expect.

They're not very clear.

As long as you're here,

you wanna give me a hand?

You know, I can't figure you out at all.

You haven't even asked me about Mario.

- What about him?

- He's in the hospital.

Pneumonia.

How bad?

Well, without the antibiotics,

he would've died.

I've gotta see him. I've gotta see him.

Can you go now?

- You've seen him?

- Yeah.

He was delirious and talking out loud.

About the two of you.

Yes?

Saying how much he loves you.

Mario.

Mario?

Mario, I love you.

My father worked it all out.

How I'd live.

What I'd do.

But it can't work.

It can't work without you.

He was wrong.

No...

Oh, Mario.

Anything for a trick.

You weren't sick at all.

- Get out of here!

- Trick or treat.

Mr. Hallet, if you leave right now,

I won't say a word, okay?

Call the police? No?

Why don't you call your father.

The least you could do is offer me

a cup of tea after I got all dressed up.

If anybody came by...

naturally they'd assume I was

your little friend, don't you think?

I even limped.

Officer Miglioriti's gonna be coming by.

Officer Miglioriti

is at his stupid raffle.

It's awful dirty down there

in the cellar.

I had no idea what I'd find.

Certainly not those damn jelly jars.

I'll show you what I did find,

if you're interested.

A hairpin.

Not yours, though. No.

You wouldn't wear pins

in that pretty hair.

- Could've been down there for years.

- No, it would've rusted.

Besides, it still smells

of the perfume...

I gave my mother

for Christmas last year.

One more thing.

A bright-red broken fingernail,

wouldn't you say?

I wonder who that belongs to.

Not my mother's colour at all.

No telling what the police

could come up with down there.

Or out in the garden.

At least I should thank you...

for bringing the Bentley

back to the office, though.

- What do you mean?

- You know what I mean.

Had to call a locksmith.

Any idea where the keys might be?

Perhaps on that chain

around your pretty neck.

- Where are you going?

- You said you wanted some tea.

There are some details

still to be worked out, of course.

Not to worry.

I'll enjoy figuring them out

on our long winter nights together.

Hello?

Officer Miglioriti. What? Oh, really?

That's great.

No, no, not now.

I'll manage.

Okay, thanks. Bye.

Rule number one:
No secrets.

I won the stupid Thanksgiving turkey.

Congratulations.

And you told him not to bring it by.

Very wise.

You know...

there's no reason you shouldn't go

right on living the way you have been.

Only now, of course,

we'll be friends, you and I.

Just us two, huh?

We could become very good friends.

I like the way you handled yourself

on the phone.

You are brilliant.

You're inventive and resourceful...

very cool under fire.

You know how to survive, don't you?

I thought I did.

What about Mario?

- He's in the hospital.

- He knows. Everything.

- Maybe he'll die.

- The doctor says no.

It really doesn't matter, you know.

He's an accomplice.

- Mr. Hallet?

- Yes, my dear?

Will you tell your wife?

What?

Will you tell your wife?

Well, suppose you let me

take care of that, okay?

The fire's catching.

It's nice and cozy now, huh?

- What are we listening to?

- Chopin. Piano Concerto No. 1.

Yes.

It's lovely.

- You want milk?

- Yes, please.

Thank you.

- Would you like some sugar?

- Just one, please.

I'll expect you to remember that.

That's easy. It's the same as I take.

Nothing like a nice

hot cup of tea, is there?

No.

- Something wrong, my dear?

- No.

Why aren't you drinking your tea?

I'm waiting for you. You're the guest.

You put more milk in yours.

Did I?

Actually, that's the way I prefer mine.

I'd prefer yours.

Look at me when I talk to you.

I want yours.

Gives us more a feeling of sharing,

don't you agree?

Ladies first.

No, wait.

Is it good?

Just right.

You know why I switched cups, don't you?

- No.

- Oh, now, think.

Some sort of test?

Just so you remember,

none of your little tricks.

Tea tastes like almonds.

Must be the almond cookies.

Oh, yes.

Excuse me.

You should see the way the fire...

lights up your hair.

All yellow and gold.

Such lovely hair.

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Laird Koenig

Laird Koenig (born September 24, 1927 in Seattle, Washington) is an American author. His best-known work is The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane, a novel published in 1974. The novel was adapted into a film of the same name starring Jodie Foster. He also wrote a play based on the novel. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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