The Wicker Man Page #3

here in this very schoolroom.

I was unaware that the police had

any authority in matters of education.

Aye, aye, well,

we'll see about that.

Girls, could I have

your attention, please?

Now, I am a police officer.

Well, as you can see.

I have come here

from the mainland...

to investigate the disappearance

of a young girl.

I have a photograph here-

excuse me-

which I would like you to pass

around amongst yourselves.

Meanwhile, I'll write her name

over there on the blackboard.

Rowan Morrison.

That's her name.

Now, do any of you recognize either

the name or the photograph?

- No.

- There's your answer, Sergeant.

If she existed, we would know.

- Whose desk is that?

- No one's.

Thank you.

The little old beetle goes round and round,

always the same way, you see,

till he ends up right up tight

to the nail, poor old thing.

"Poor old thing"?

Then why in God's name

do you do it, girl?

I'd like to see the

school register, please.

I'm afraid you'll have to have

Lord Summerisle's authority.

This is a police matter.

I'm afraid you'll have to have

a search warrant or permission

from Lord Summerisle himself.

I'm afraid you'll just have to

bear with me, won't you?

You're liars. You are

despicable little liars.

Rowan Morrison is a schoolmate

of yours, isn't she?

And that is her desk, isn't it?

- Well, isn't it?

- I think you ought to know-

And you are the biggest liar of all.

I warn you,

one more lie out of you,

and I will charge you

with obstruction,

and, believe me, Miss Rose,

that is a promise.

Now, for the last time,

where is Rowan Morrison?

I would like to speak

to you outside, Sergeant.

Girls, get on

with your reading.

It's the Rites and Rituals of May Day,

chapter five. I won't be long.

Well?

You don't understand, Sergeant.

Nobody was lying. I told you plainly.

If Rowan Morrison existed,

we would know of her.

You mean,

she doesn't exist?

She's dead?

You would say so.

Oh, come on, come on.

She's either dead,

or she's not dead.

Here, we do not use

the word-

We believe...

that when the human life

is over,

the soul returns

to trees, to air,

to fire, to water,

to animals,

so that Rowan Morrison

has simply returned...

to the life forces

in another form.

Do you mean to say you teach

the children this stuff?

Yes. I told you,

it is what we believe.

They never learn anything

of christianity?

Only as

a comparative religion.

The children find it

far easier to picture...

reincarnation

than resurrection.

Those rotting bodies are a great stumbling

block for the childish imagination.

Why, of course.

And may I ask,

where is the rotting body

of Rowan Morrison?

Right where you'd expect it to be-

in the earth.

You mean,

in the churchyard?

- In a manner of speaking.

- No.

In plain speaking.

The building attached to the

ground in which the body lies...

is no longer used

for christian worship,

so whether it is still

a churchyard is debatable.

But forgive me. I must get back to my girls.

Good morning to you.

"Here lieth Beech Buchanan,

protected by the ejaculation

of serpents. "

- Morning.

- Morning.

I see you plant trees

on most of the graves here.

- Aye, that's right.

- What tree is that?

That's a rowan.

- And who lies there?

- Rowan Morrison.

- How long has she been dead?

- Oh, six or seven months.

They're just a wee bit late

with the headstone.

What on earth's that?

It looks like a piece of skin.

- Why, so it is.

- Well, what is it?

The poor wee lassie's

navel string, of course.

Where else should it be but hung

on her own little tree?

Where does your minister live?

Minister?

Minister.

Oh, what a silly girl you are

to make all this fuss.

It's just a little frog.

It'll do that poor

sore throat good.

Now, anyone would think

you didn't want to get better.

Now, in he goes.

And out he comes. There. Now,

that didn't hurt much, did it?

- It tasted horrid.

- Never mind, darling. It's all over now.

Here's your sweet for being a brave girl.

Come on. Which one would you like?

There. He's got your horrid old sore

throat now, hasn't he, poor creature?

Can't you

hear him croaking?

Can I do anything for you, Sergeant?

I doubt it,

seeing you're all raving mad.

Doctor, tell me, did you sign Rowan

Morrison's death certificate?

Uh, Rowan Morrison.

Yes, I did. Why?

Could I see it,

please?

You, of all people, should

know that death certificates

are kept in the public

records office.

Now, if you

will excuse me.

Doctor.

Tell me,

how did Rowan Morrison die?

She was burnt to death,

as my lunch will be

if I continue talking to you.

- Good day.

- Good day.

- I'd like to see your index of deaths, please.

- Do you have authority?

- No, I meant from his lordship.

- I don't need it.

I'm afraid you have to get

permission from Lord Summerisle.

Miss, if you don't cooperate

with me here and now,

you may well find yourself inside a police

cell on the mainland tonight.

Have I made myself

quite clear?

Please.

Thank you.

"M."

"m," "m," "m," "m. "

"Benjamin and Rachel

Morrison. "

- Rachel and Benjamin- names from the Bible.

- Yes.

They were very old.

But, there's no record

of Rowan Morrison's death,

which means, of course,

there is no death certificate.

- Did you know her?

- Yes, of course.

- Is that her?

- Yes, that's her.

How did she die?

- I don't know.

- I don't know anything about her. Nothing.

Thank you.

Are you mr. Lennox,

the photographer?

Oh, I'm firstly a chemist,

secondly a photographer.

I understand that you take the harvest

festival photographs every year-

the ones I saw

in The Green Man.

Yes, it's rather humdrum work,

I'm afraid.

Do you know what happened

to last year's photograph?

Isn't it with the others?

No, no, it's not. No, apparently it's been

broken or damaged in some way.

- Oh, what a pity.

- Would you have a copy of it?

Oh, no, I don't keep copies.

Mr. Lennox, you were among the people

to whom I showed the photograph

in the Green Man.

Is that the girl?

- It's difficult to say.

- Oh, come on, man!

It was only eight months ago. Surely

you remember if it was that girl or not.

Thank you.

Corn rigs and barley rigs

And corn rigs are bonnie

I'll not forget

that happy night

Among the rigs with Annie

Take the flame inside

you burn and burn below

Fire seed and fire feed

and make the baby grow

Take the flame inside you

Burn and burn belay

Fire seed and fire feed

and make the baby stay

Take the flame inside you

burn and burn belong

Fire seed and fire feed

and make the baby strong

Take the flame inside you

burn and burn belie

Fire seed and fire feed

and make the baby cry

Take the flame inside you

burn and burn begin

Fire seed and fire feed

and make the baby king

- His lordship is expecting you, sir.

- Expecting me?

That's what his lordship told me, sir.

Would you please come this way?

In there, sir.

Good afternoon,

Sergeant Howie.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote