-Original Screenplay By Richard Hine

INT. NIGHT A BEDROOM

A YOUNG MAN is sitting at a desk asleep, slumped on the
keyboard of a laptop. The lighting is cold, stark and
fluorescent and the music is dark, brooding and industrial.
The desk is a mess. An alarm goes off and he awakes with a
start. He looks at the time displayed on the alarm.

YOUNG MAN
Fuck… Oh, fuck me.

He gets up from the desk and quickly leaves the room.

INT. NIGHT THE SAME BEDROOM

A pretty YOUNG WOMAN is drawing something with a pencil on
paper. It doesn’t matter what she’s drawing, but whatever it
is, she’s drawing it well. The music is classical, calm and
ambient and the light is bright and soft. The Young Woman is
softly humming along. She looks up at her clock, smiles and
gets up, walking happily towards the door.

INT. NIGHT A BATHROOM

The Young Man plunges his face into the basin of cold water.
He withdraws and takes a moment to stare at himself in the
mirror. He picks up a bottle from the shelf underneath the
mirror and empties out some pills. He necks them.

INT. NIGHT THE SAME BATHROOM

The Young Woman is looking at herself in the mirror as she
applies her makeup. The lighting is still soft and bright.

EXT. NIGHT A STREET

The Young Man slinks along the street, hands deep in
pockets, taking large strides as though he were in a rush.

EXT. NIGHT THE SAME STREET

The Young Woman trots along the street. She is just
strolling, taking her time, enjoying herself.

INT. NIGHT A BAR

The Young Man enters and goes straight to the bar, where a
BARMAN is stood. The bar is pretty quiet and 80s rock music
is playing quietly in the background.

YOUNG MAN
A pint of Slendy’s, please.

The Barman nods, pulls a pint from a tap and carelessly sets
it down on the bar. He never makes eye contact with the
Young Man.

BARMAN
Three quid, mate.

The Young Man drops the coins on the counter, takes his
drink and shuffles off to a table.

CUT TO ULTRA CLOSE UP OF COINS ON THE BAR.

The barman’s hand sweeps the coins out of shot.

CUT TO THE DOOR OF THE BAR.

The Young Woman enters through the same door as the Young Man. She approaches the bar.

YOUNG WOMAN
Hi, could I get a glass of the
house white, please?

BARMAN
Certainly.

The Barman smiles, pours her a glass from a bottle and hands
it to the Young Woman. She sets it down and places a ten
pound note in his hand

BARMAN
Ah, thank you.

The Barman puts the note into the till and retrieves her
change, which he places into the Young Woman’s outstretched
hand. The Young Woman smiles at him and turns, going to sit
at the same table as the Young Man.

YOUNG MAN
Cecilia. Alright?
The Young Woman sits opposite the Young Man.

YOUNG WOMAN
Good, thanks. How are you doing
these days?

YOUNG MAN
Nowt in particular to complain
about.

YOUNG WOMAN
Lovely little bar, isn’t it?

YOUNG MAN
It’s alright, I suppose…

YOUNG WOMAN
You don’t like it?

YOUNG MAN
Nah, s’nothin’ like that. Just
nothin’ special, y’know?

YOUNG WOMAN
That doesn’t mean it can’t be
lovely.

YOUNG MAN
Not for you, it doesn’t.

YOUNG WOMAN
And that means?

YOUNG MAN
It means that ’lovely’ is clearly
nothing special for you…

YOUNG WOMAN
(shaking her head)
Is that a compliment or an insult?
I never can tell with you…

YOUNG MAN
Part of my charm, innit?

YOUNG WOMAN
I suppose that’s one word for it…
They both break out into a smile and there’s a brief,
awkward silence.

YOUNG WOMAN
Like the good old days…

YOUNG MAN
Is that what you’re calling ’em,
now? Wasn’t what you called ’em
then.

YOUNG WOMAN
Oh, Jack. You always have to go and
sour things, don’t you?

YOUNG MAN
And suddenly ’the good old days’
come flooding back…

YOUNG WOMAN
(getting irate)
Honestly, I don’t know why I
bother!

YOUNG MAN
Because sometimes, ’lovely’ gets
boring, dunnit?

YOUNG WOMAN
I’m almost certain -that- was an
insult.

YOUNG MAN
Always a 50-50 chance, love.

YOUNG WOMAN
Why must you always insist on
making things this way?

YOUNG MAN
Maybe ’this way’ is just how things
are?

YOUNG WOMAN
What are you babbling on about?

YOUNG MAN
It don’t matter. Not to you.

YOUNG WOMAN
And how would you know what matters
to me?

YOUNG MAN
S’not lovely enough for it to
matter to you, is it?

YOUNG WOMAN
It’s always about this with you!
Every damn conversation is just
another way to make it clear. Poor
little working class hero; I’m so
sorry I slighted you by being born
who I am

YOUNG MAN
You genuinely don’t get it, do you?

YOUNG WOMAN
Oh no, I’m sure I don’t. I’m sure
it’s the kind of thing they only
teach at comprehensives. I’m sure
that my private school spent too
long teaching us all secret ways to
get rich to teach me your
half-baked, home-spun wisdom! You
know what you are; you’re a snob!

YOUNG MAN
A what?

YOUNG WOMAN
You heard me. You spend all your
time thinking you’re better than
me, because if we’re at the same
level and I was more privileged
than you, then you must be cleverer
to have caught me up. You have
contempt for me because of the
amount of money my parents have,
and that makes you as much of a
snob as anyone who looks down on
people for being poorer than them!

YOUNG MAN
Oh, poor little rich girl! Poor
little middle class, suburban rich
girl! You’ve been through so much
persecution, right? Everyone should
cut you slack because they have no
idea how ’ard it is ’aving all the
breaks!

You wanna know the difference
between me and some posh twat who
’as a go at the poor? I ’ave a go
at you because you ’ad all these
fucking opportunities I never did.

YOUNG WOMAN
You must be joking! Do you think
just emerged from the mines? Stop
being so naive. You’re no more
working class than the rest of us.
We’re all middle class now, and you
know it. Get down from your high
horse.

YOUNG MAN
What, so you think that just
because we’re not in the mills or
the mines now, everyone is jus’ the
same? You think that jus’ because
your dad don’t own mine, that makes
us equals? Don’t be so fucking
daft. It’s not one or the other;
it’s not equal or feudal- ’owever
you wanna put it, you’ve ’ad an
easier life than me, and that’s why
you’ll never understand.

YOUNG WOMAN
Never understand what?

YOUNG MAN
What it’s like to be on the other
side of it all. Go back to your
fucking bubble.

YOUNG WOMAN
(welling up)
Fine. But before I do, I want to
tell you something. The reason -wenever
worked out wasn’t because of
how many opportunities I’ve had. It
was because of you, and your
ridiculous crusade against anyone
who happens to be luckier than you.
You’re not fighting for justice;
you’re just bitter it wasn’t you.

YOUNG MAN
Not everyone -wants- to be like
you. Maybe one day, you’ll realise
that.

YOUNG WOMAN
And maybe one day, you’ll grow up.
The Young Woman gets up and leaves, leaving a half-drained
glass of wine on the table. The Young Man downs the
remainder of his pint, gets up and leaves too.

SPLITSCREEN LEFT - INT. NIGHT A BEDROOM
A Young Woman sits at her desk and a teardrop falls on her
drawing from earlier. The lighting is bright and soft. She
begins to cry softly.

SPLITSCREEN RIGHT - INT. NIGHT THE SAME BEDROOM
A Young Man sits at his desk with his head buried in his
arms. The lighting is cold, stark and fluorescent.

SPLITSCREEN LEFT - INT. NIGHT A BATHROOM
The Young Woman brushes her teeth in the bathroom, staring
at herself in the mirror. The lighting is now neutral and
the only sound is the scrubbing of the brush on her teeth.

SPLITSCREEN RIGHT - INT. NIGHT THE SAME BATHHROOM
The Young Man brushes his teeth in the bathroom, staring at
himself in the mirror. The lighting is now neutral and the
only sound is the scrubbing of the brush on his teeth.

SPLITSCREEN LEFT - INT. NIGHT A BEDROOM
The Young Woman gets into bed and lies there leaving space
for another, staring as though she desperately wished that
there was someone there.

SPLITSCREEN RIGHT - INT. NIGHT THE SAME BEDROOM
The Young Man gets into bed and lies there leaving space for
another, staring as though he desperately wished that there
was someone there.

On both sides, the Young Man and Young woman, now staring at each other across the split screen sigh simultaneously and
close their eyes. The screen fades to black

THE END