Sci Fi & Fantasy / Witts End (Series 1. Pt 1)

INT. WITTS END, CHURCH – NIGHT

POV: we pan around to see there are three women, dressed in black, faces veiled, kneeling separately in their pews.  Underscoring the scene is the music of Billie Holiday.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
Saturday October the Eighth, Nineteen Sixty-Six…

POV SWITCH: close-up on the statue of Christ in his agony on the cross above the altar, lit by amber candle-light.  

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...my name is Doctor Marcus Harrison: Psychiatric Consultant.

CUT TO:

INT. MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR’S STUDY – NIGHT
There is a fire, low in the grate.  The room is lit by multiple candles and a green glass shaded legal lamp on a mahogany writing desk.  Underscoring the scene is the music of Billie Holiday played on vinyl via an old-fashioned record player with gold speaker grille inset in the front.  There is a smoking pipe sat in an ashtray and a glass of whisky beside it.

POV: a male hand reaches out and depresses the “record” and “play” buttons on a reel-to-reel tape recorder.  The spools begin to revolve, feeding the tape through the recording mechanism.

POV SWITCH: a male hand picks up a microphone from the desk: it is connected to the reel-to-reel tape recorder.

POV SWITCH: close-up on a male mouth, framed in stubble, talking into the microphone.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR
The events I am about to place on record…

POV SWITCH: a male hand picks up the glass of whisky and takes a sip.

CUT TO:

INT. WITTS END, CHURCH – NIGHT

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...I find difficult enough to comprehend…

POV: the left hand of the statue of Christ in his agony on the cross.  The club nail in its wrist starts to twist left and right and then slowly eases itself out of the wrist of the statue of Christ in his agony.  It falls in slow-motion to the flag-stoned floor with a resounding, resonant clang.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...let alone to believe.

The three women, dressed in black and veiled all look up in unison towards the altar.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ROADSIDE, THE A1, CAMBRIDGESHIRE – MORNING

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
I do not know her real name or even from whence she came:

POV: long shot as PAT walks along the verge beside the road dressed in a simple white nightshirt.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...she was simply found by the roadside, wandering alone.

POV SWITCH: close-up on PAT, red hair blowing across her face, eyes glazed, expression confused as she looks around her.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
Now?  We know her simply as Pat:

POV SWITCH: a 1960s police car pulls over onto the hard shoulder in front of PAT and stops.  Two uniformed police officers get out of the car and walk back towards PAT.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...the name assigned to her by the local Constabulary on discovering she could not even speak to tell her own name.

POV SWITCH: close-up on PAT’S face, expression confused.  PAT opens her mouth to speak but no sound comes.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
Whether Pat’s inability to speak was a long-standing or recently acquired affliction…

POV SWITCH: a magpie alights on the fence beside the road and turns it head to look at PAT with black, emotionless eyes.  It opens its beak and chatters.

POV SWITCH: PAT looks round and sees the magpie.  She claps her hands over her ears and collapses to the ground on her knees.

POV SWITCH: the police officers rush over to PAT as the magpie flies away.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...I could not say for certain, but in silence she remained throughout her first two years with us.

PAT looks up, hands still over her ears, tears streaming down her cheeks.  The police officers exchange bemused glances, taken aback by the expression they see on PAT’S face.

CUT TO:

INT. MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR’S STUDY – NIGHT

POV: a male hand presses the “pause” button on the reel-to-reel tape recorder and reaches for the glass of Scotch.

POV SWITCH: a male mouth takes a sip of Scotch.

POV SWITCH: a male hand puts down the glass.  A beat.  The “pause” button is released and the recording continues.

POV: a male mouth speaks into a microphone.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
And then one unremarkable day, for no discernible reason, Pat broke her silence.

CUT TO:

INT. TYBURN MENTAL HEALTH CLINIC (PAT’S ROOM) – DAY

PAT is sat in her chair, looking at the sunlight streaming in through the small, barred window.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...only to me and in the voice of one in fear for her very soul.  And the tale she had to tell:

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. WITTS END, CHURCH – NIGHT

POV: behind the crown of thorns of the statue of Christ in his agony, looking towards the Vestry door as it opens.  FATHER SAMAEL ABBADON enters.

SNAP CUT TO:

POV: the three women, dressed in black and veiled all look in unison towards
FATHER SAMAEL ABBADON.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
...the tale which I have no doubt she most fervently believes to be truth, I hereby recount as faithfully as I am able.

POV SWITCH: the hole in the wrist of the statue of Christ in his agony starts to bleed, blood dripping drop by drop onto the flag-stoned floor around the club nail.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR (V.O.)
For it is a tale told by one without friends or family who in all likelihood will end her days in solitude, incarcerated unloved and forgotten…

SNAP CUT TO:

INT. TYBURN MENTAL HEALTH CLINIC (PAT’S ROOM) – DAY

POV SWITCH: close-up on PAT’S face, expression forlorn.

SNAP CUT TO:

INT. MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR’S STUDY – NIGHT

As before, MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR’S lips at the microphone.

MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR
...as chilling a fate to me as the tale itself.

SNAP CUT TO:

INT. WITTS END, CHURCH – NIGHT

POV: FATHER SAMAEL ABADDON looks up at the statue of Christ in his agony.

POV SWITCH:  the statue of Christ in his agony above the altar looks almost alive in the flickering candle light.  There is a crack of thunder and lightning that illuminates the stained glass window beyond the statue of Christ in his agony.

POV SWITCH: the three women, dressed in black and veiled all look up in unison towards the altar, a hissing sound coming from beneath their veils.

SNAP CUT TO:

POV SWITCH: The statue of Christ in his agony, left hand now free and bleeding, twists at the waist, right hand still nailed to the cross behind.  Blood pouring from the incisions of the crown of thorns on its head, the statue of Christ reaches out its left hand towards FATHER SAMAEL ABADDON, mouth opening in a silent cry of pain and longing.

POV SWITCH: we zoom in on the screaming mouth of Christ in his agony.

SNAP CUT TO:

INT. TYBURN MENTAL HEALTH CLINIC (PAT’S ROOM) – DAY

POV: as MARCUS HARRISON SENIOR looks on, expression severe, we zoom in on the screaming mouth of PAT as she is physically restrained on her bed by two male orderlies.

SNAP CUT TO:

INT. THE VIEMORT CIRCUS (BIG TOP, CIRCUS RING) – NIGHT

POV: we zoom out from the open, painted, screeching mouth of THE CLOWN to see in one hand he holds a red balloon on a string.

SNAP CUT TO:

EXT. WITTS END – DAY

POV: the aerial view of the cottages look for all the world like an open mouth, teeth exposed, red-roofed schoolhouse on the green like a tongue.

POV SWITCH: pub sign – “THE GOAT AND TYBURN” with a hanging goat painted beneath.

POV SWITCH: close-up on a slavering, bloodied muzzle as a hound rips a screeching white hen apart.

POV SWITCH: a roadside village sign, swinging in the fierce wind and rain of a summer storm: WITTS END.

CRASH IN TITLES:

INT. THE VIEMORT CIRCUS (BIG TOP, CIRCUS RING) – NIGHT

POV: pulling back from inside the open, painted, screeching mouth of THE CLOWN: classic barrel-organ circus music underscores as the audience behind, majoritively made up of children, scream with delight.

POV SWITCH: fast close-in on one child who sits, ashen faced, hands pressed together, wringing whilst all around him are screeching with laughter.

POV SWITCH: red balloons float up throughout the big top, let fly by other clowns.  The sound of the delighted screaming of children distorts nightmarishly.

POV SWITCH: the one child’s ashen face looks up.

POV SWITCH: THE CLOWN’S screeching face looks down, from inside, it’s tongue blows up like a pendulous red balloon, expanding, expanding out of it’s mouth: all the while the delighted screams of children distorting.

The red tongue balloon finally bursts.

SNAP CUT TO:

INT. GARRETT MOLEDOCK’S FLAT (BEDROOM) – MORNING

POV: GARRETT MOLEDOCK bursts into consciousness, sweat-beaded brow dripping down his cheeks, head looking terrified, side-to-side, wild-eyed.  Slowly he takes in his surroundings, calms, drops his head back onto the pillow and exhales.  A beat.  He rolls over to the other side of the bed and comes face to face with a birthday card: it has a home-made, happy smiling clown face on the front complete with glitter.

POV SWITCH: GARRETT jumps back and up into the headboard of the bed, looking terrified down at the card.

GARRETT
(over, terrified)
Jesus H Christ.

TRISHA (O.C.)
(bright, singing)
Happy Birthday to you…

GARRETT starts again and looks up to see TRISHA MARX entering the bedroom with a tray of cooked breakfast, complete with bottle of squeezy ketchup upon it, in her hands.

TRISHA
Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Garrett: Happy Birthday to you!

GARRETT has the look of a man under fire as TRISHA settles the tray down on his lap on top of the quilt.

TRISHA
Sorry about the card: I couldn’t resist: I drew it myself though, pretty good eh?

TRISHA lifts the card from the pillow, looks at it approvingly and turns it round to face GARRETT.  GARRETT is less than enthused.

GARRETT
Coulrophobia is a recognised condition, you know: just like any other.

TRISHA
(shrugs)
Whatever…sounds like a pile of crap to me, always has done now eat your breakfast before it goes cold.

TRISHA turns and places the birthday card on the side as GARRETT gives her a quelling look.  She turns back to GARRETT, oblivious.

TRISHA
Eat!  It took three attempts not to break the egg yolk in the pan so I want appreciation at least.

GARRETT looks down at the breakfast and nods appreciatively.

GARRETT
Consider yourself appreciated.

TRISHA
Thank you.  Right, I’ve got to dash: Meg’s outside waiting in the car and there’s no way we can be late again this month or the shit’ll hit the fan for sure.

TRISHA leans over and kisses GARRETT on the forehead.

TRISHA
Love you, oddball: see you tonight.

TRISHA turns to go.

GARRETT
Trisha?

TRISHA turns back.

GARRETT
(tender)
Thanks.

TRISHA
(smiles)
Any time.  Bye.

TRISHA goes.  GARRETT looks down at his breakfast as though wondering where to start.

POV SWITCH: out on the birthday card, clown face smiling out.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. A PARK – LUNCHTIME

TRISHA and MEG STEWART are walking along by the boating lake.  TRISHA is smoking, MEG is eating a cornish pasty in a paper napkin.

MEG
(mouth full)
I always said he was a poof.

TRISHA
(mock appalled)
Meg!

MEG
What?  Loves musicals, writes for a living, scared of clowns and spends more time in the bathroom than you do preparing for a night on the town: do the maths, Trish!

TRISHA
Garrett is not gay.

MEG
Eh, correction: you hope Garrett’s not gay.

TRISHA
I’d know.

MEG
Of course you would.

TRISHA
Thank you.

MEG
Just like you knew that Nathan was a kleptomaniac.

MEG finishes her cornish pasty and screws up the napkin, wiping the corners of her mouth with it.

TRISHA
Recovering kleptomaniac.

MEG
Or that Dimitri’s parents were in fact crack cocaine dealers.

TRISHA
Which I could hardly blame him for.

MEG
Incidentally have you ever dated a man with a normal name?

TRISHA stops suddenly, stubs out her cigarette under her boot heel and rounds on MEG.

TRISHA
(irked)
Is there a point to this piss-taking or are you just using me to relieve the lunch time blues?

MEG
The point, Trish, is that your record on the man front to date is hardly impressive and now you’re telling me you want to go swanning off into the middle of nowhere with the latest in a long line of weirdos.

TRISHA
It’s Cambridgeshire, Meg: hardly the Gobi Desert.

MEG
(dismissive)
It’s still the countryside and you’re still a metropolitan girl and as for this graveyard tour he’s got planned: that’s just plain creepy.

TRISHA
He’s tracing his family ancestry.

MEG
Whatever: it’s still an accident waiting to happen and you won’t convince me otherwise.

TRISHA tries to give MEG a defiant glare but almost immediately begins to wilt under the weight of the look she receives in return.

TRISHA
(sighs)
You’re right.  I know you’re right.  But I like Garrett: I like him a lot…I may even be falling in love with him for all I know and I just think some time away together, just the two of us will help us realise exactly where this is all going so how about a little support, eh?

MEG looks at TRISHA as she lights another cigarette and an affectionate smile comes to her lips.  MEG puts an arm around TRISHA and gives her a squeeze.

MEG
Hey, just because I think you’re dating a gay fruit-loop doesn’t mean you don’t have my unquestioning loyalty and support.

TRISHA can’t help but break into a smile at this.

TRISHA
Cow.

MEG
(laughs)
Come on: we don’t want to be late back again, Radner will have a fit.

With her arm still around TRISHA, MEG moves off again towards the park gates before them.

POV SWITCH: the CLOWN is standing motionless, a bunch of helium-filled red balloons on strings held in one hand.

POV SWITCH: close-up on the CLOWN’S miserably made-up face as it cocks it’s head mechanically to one side.

POV SWITCH: watching TRISHA and MEG receding towards the park gates together.

POV SWITCH: the CLOWN plucks a balloon from the bunch, holds it out for a beat and then lets it go.  It floats slowly upwards into the cloudless sky.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. GARRETT MOLEDOCK’S FLAT (LIVING ROOM) – AFTERNOON

GARRETT is seated at his computer desk.  On the computer screen there is a Family Tree clearly visible and we begin close-in on the name PATRICK MOLEDOCK being typed into one of the boxes followed by: B. 14th February 1945 D. ?

POV SWITCH: GARRETT has a cordless telephone tucked under his chin.

GARRETT
(on telephone)
I don’t understand your problem, mum: I thought you’d be pleased I was finally taking an interest in the family.

CUT TO:

INT. LINDA MOLEDOCK’S HOUSE (KITCHEN) – CONTINUOUS

LINDA MOLEDOCK is leaning against a breakfast bar, a conventional corded wall telephone to her ear.

LINDA
I’d prefer you directing your interest towards the living, Garrett: the dead are just dead, let them stay that way, can’t you?

CUT TO:

INT. GARRETT MOLEDOCK’S FLAT (LIVING ROOM) – CONTINUOUS

GARRETT sits back in his chair, expression darkening.

GARRETT
(on telephone)
“The living” kind of just means you, mum: every one else is dead…or missing presumed dead: I mean okay, it makes for a nice, cheap Christmas every year but even so…

CUT TO:

INT. LINDA MOLEDOCK’S HOUSE (KITCHEN) – CONTINUOUS

LINDA is leaning as before.

LINDA
(on telephone, cutting in)
If you’re going to insist on falling back on that irksome sarcastic streak of yours: I shall in all likelihood hang up the telephone.  Birthday or no birthday.

CUT TO:

INT. GARRETT MOLEDOCK’S FLAT (LIVING ROOM) – CONTINUOUS

GARRETT rolls his eyes and gives a silent sigh.

GARRETT
(on telephone, resigned)
I’m sorry…look, let’s just agree to differ on this: alright?  I’m having fun: it’s interesting tracing back all these ancestors of ours, half of which I never even knew I had and like I said before, I promise faithfully to leave any skeletons I find firmly in their closets where they belong, okay?

CUT TO:

INT. LINDA MOLEDOCK’S HOUSE (KITCHEN) – CONTINUOUS

LINDA’S expression suggests she is anything but happy.

LINDA
(on telephone)
Is there any point in my objecting further?

LINDA reaches round behind her and picks up a cup of coffee from the breakfast bar as she listens.  She raises it to her lips and then freezes, her expression darkening in an instant.

LINDA
(on telephone, concerned)
Witts End?
(listens, cutting)
But Garrett: you can’t…not there!

LINDA listens for a moment and runs a hand through her hair, visibly relaxing slightly.

LINDA
(on telephone)
Exactly…it doesn’t exist any more…it hasn’t for decades and besides…
(taking control)
...there was nothing much there in the first place…
(listens)
...because…because it’s like every other backwater English village: that’s how I know, don’t be obtuse, Garrett.
(listens, then irked)
Oh of course I meant “was like” now if you don’t mind: I’d like to get on.
(softening)
Happy Birthday again…bye.

LINDA hangs up the telephone and exhales deeply once again running a hand through her hair.  A beat.  LINDA moves away from the breakfast bar and exits.

CUT TO:

INT. LINDA MOLEDOCK’S HOUSE (HALLWAY) – CONTINUOUS

LINDA comes through from the kitchen.  There are old, framed advertising posters for the “Viemort Circus” on the walls either side of the hallway.  LINDA walks down the hallway and turns into:

CUT TO:

INT. LINDA MOLEDOCK’S HOUSE (LIVING ROOM) – CONTINUOUS

LINDA enters and crosses to the marble fireplace immediately.  On the mantlepiece are a number of framed photographs: GARRETT at various ages from baby onwards and PETER MOLEDOCK.  In the centre, there is a silver, triptych photograph frame, the left hand wing folded in to cover the centre, the right hand showing a photograph of PETER giving it the look of an open book as LINDA takes it from the shelf.

POV SWITCH: LINDA’S face looks rueful as she traces a finger down the image of PETER.  A beat.  She slowly uses her forefinger to find and depress a secret but that clicks open the left hand side of the silver, triptych frame.  She unfolds the triptych to reveal in the centre panel, the black and white image of a group of garishly made-up, grinning clowns (including THE CLOWN at the centre).  Traditional barrel-organ circus music fades in to underscore.

CUT TO:

INT. THE VIEMORT CIRCUS (BIG TOP, BACK-STAGE) – NIGHT

THE CLOWN is putting the finishing touches to his make-up before a mirror surrounded by open light-bulbs.  In the BG, as seen in the mirror behind THE CLOWN, other CLOWNS are preparing for their show: the traditional barrel-organ circus music continues to underscore.

FATHER ABADDON (V.O.)
(whispered, distorted)
Patrick.

THE CLOWN stops, greasepaint stick still at his cheek.

FATHER ABADDON (V.O.)
(whispered, distorted)
Patrick.

POV: THE CLOWN slowly lowers the greasepaint stick from his face and puts it on the dressing table in front of him.

POV SWITCH: THE CLOWN looks up into the mirror.  The traditional barrel-organ circus music distorts and fluctuates as does the image of the other CLOWNS reflected in the mirror behind THE CLOWN.  THE CLOWN’S face remains stable in the mirror as darkness descends behind him and FATHER ABADDON appears standing, looking down hawk-like.

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