EXT. FIELD OF GRASS - MORNING.
It is summer and the sun is shining. The morning dew is still glistening on the webs of spiders. At the bottom of the small field POPPY, a fat woman wearing a nightdress, is sitting in the long grass beneath a tree. She is in her early thirties. Her gaze is quiet, her face serene. Enjoying a moment’s solitude she caresses the heads of flowers gently, and traces the veins of leaves with the tips of her fingers. She is careful with any insects that happen along. The scene has no sound.
POPPY (V.O.)
I’m wanting to express the feeling of a moment. It doesn’t have to be this one. There are lots I can remember. But I can’t describe any. The flavours and tones and shades, the resonances, the meanings and feelings: all too much for me to convey with my poor stock of uncertain words. I would have to show you, yet not being able to account for your eyes, nor any of your outlooks, I could not be sure that you were seeing what I was showing, feeling what I was being. You would have to be me. But if you were me then we might be lonely...for want of somebody different.
Behind her a part of the tree’s trunk explodes silently and slowly. It has been caught by a shot from a gun. POPPY looks up, startled, revealing the bruising on the side of her face, which has, until now, been out of sight. HARVEY is standing in the grass at the opposite end of the field pointing a gun at her. He is tall and balding and whatever is going on inside his head makes his face ugly. From the condition of his trousers and hair and his crumpled white shirt it would seem that he has been rolling around in a field recently. In his other hand is an almost empty whiskey bottle. Behind him, beyond the field, is a large, solitary house. He shoots again and this time the shot can be heard. POPPY flinches and ducks but she hasn’t been hit. HARVEY is too drunk to keep a steady aim. POPPY runs, frightened, in the direction of some nearby woods.
HARVEY
Hey, you fat sow! Come back! I want your bacon for breakfast!
He shoots again and misses again.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE WOODS - MORNING.
POPPY is rushing through the woods. She is well coordinated and light on her feet but her feet are bare, making it difficult for her to go quickly in places. HARVEY is out of sight but his voice can be heard from time to time, sometimes furious, sometimes taunting.
HARVEY (O.S.)
Sooo-eee! Here, piggy piggy! I can see you, piggy!
The sound of a shot. POPPY rushes on desperately.
POPPY (BREATHLESSLY)
Thank you, Lord...thank you for the gifts you have given me...thank you for loving me...I know you are inside me, Lord...as I am inside you...please guide me...I love you, Lord...I love you...
HARVEY (O.S.)
Poppy! You’re dead! Do you hear me?
POPPY
Please guide me.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE WOODS - MORNING.
HARVEY is having difficulty making his way through the foliage in his drunken state. He trips and falls and rolls, cursing, down an incline.
CUT TO:
EXT. A STREAM - MORNING.
POPPY is too exhausted to run any more. She seems to have lost Harvey. She kneels by the stream and cups water in her hand to cool the bruises on her face.
POPPY (V.O.)
Sometimes I get a hint, out of the corner of my mind, of love, and I can barely stand it, that hint, which is a murky thing, no doubt, next to love looked upon with open eyes, yet it shines brightly all the same compared to what I usually see. It’s beams threaten to pierce my head, because they shine through and through and through. And if I look away from my hint of love it’s only that I fear the death that looking seems to bring rushing. If you are surrounded by light then you must shine to survive. To shine amidst the light of love I would surely need to have my shadows burnt away. The shadows amongst which I hide and cower in shame and fear...for my shadows.
POPPY looks small and alone.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE BACK GARDEN OF HARVEY’S HOUSE - MORNING.
HARVEY’s clothes are in an even worse state as he emerges from the field. He kneels down, exhausted, and tries to catch his breath.
HARVEY
Jesus!
Standing, he begins to make his way to the side of the house. He looks at his whiskey bottle suddenly, remembering that there is no whiskey left.
HARVEY
What the...!
He throws the bottle away, disgusted at having carried it needlessly. Rounding the corner of the house he is hit full in the face by a shovel and falls onto his back, out cold. POPPY raises the shovel, terrified, ready to deliver another blow. Seeing it isn’t necessary she lowers the shovel and tries to calm herself.
POPPY
Thank you, Lord.
POPPY looks down at HARVEY. His nose is broken and bleeding. She is uncertain of what to do next. The washing line catches her eye.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE BACK GARDEN - MORNING.
POPPY rolls HARVEY onto his front. Working quickly and nervously she binds his hands behind his back with the clothes line. Bringing what is left of the line down to his ankles she ties them together also.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE BACK GARDEN - MORNING.
POPPY, still in her nightdress, comes out of the house. She has a bowl of warm water, a flannel and a first aid box. She tends to HARVEY’s wound tenderly, cleaning, disinfecting and dressing it.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE BACK GARDEN - DAY.
HARVEY regains consciousness on the lawn. He has been gagged and is still bound. POPPY is standing before him. She has washed and dressed and has been waiting for him to wake up. Upon regaining his senses he struggles frantically to get free. His gaze is furious and full of hate. The shovel is nearby. POPPY takes hold of it involuntarily. It is not meant as a threat, she is just scared. HARVEY eyes the shovel warily and stops struggling. POPPY is dazed. Her manner is gentle and quiet and vaguely puzzled.
POPPY
I’ve taken all of the money from the house and from your wallet, and I’ve got the keys for the Rangerover. I’ll phone the police later on today, when I’m well out of reach, and I’ll ask them to come over, just in case you haven’t managed to get free.
POPPY looks at HARVEY with sympathy and sadness.
POPPY
I’m going to go over and see Auntie Ray so please don’t follow me. You know how much she hates you - she’d be liable to shoot you. I’ll send you a postcard when I get there.
POPPY feels lost.
POPPY
I’ve made you some sandwiches. They’re in the fridge.
She feels scared.
POPPY
Bye.
She turns and walks away. There is nothing HARVEY can do but wriggle and make muffled noises. POPPY walks around the outside of the house to the Rangerover, which is new and gold. Two carpet bags and a guitar case are waiting for her on the drive. She puts them onto the back seat before getting into the front and driving away.
CUT TO:
INT. RANGEROVER - DAY
POPPY takes a CD she has compiled herself from a pocket, puts it into the Rangerover’s cassette player and starts it playing. The Cranberries’ “DREAMING MY DREAMS” begins to play. POPPY heads North.
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