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"The Lost Boys"

Script by

Andrew Birkin


Part 1: We Set Out To Be Wrecked




EXT. FROZEN LAKE - SCOTLAND - 1867. DAY

FADE UP on a WHITE SCREEN, gradually resolving into a LOW
ANGLE UPSHOT of snow falling from a bleak winter sky.

Presently a SOUND rises above the low moan of the wind: a
sharp, jarring sound from behind us.

A shape suddenly flashes past us - the head and body of a
BOY who seems to be flying away from us until lost from view
in the mist.
TITLE:
SCOTLAND, JANUARY 1867

A sudden discordant CHORD jabs the moaning wind, followed by
the rushing and swishing as the Boy again looms out of the
mist, flies past us and is gone. The pattern repeats several
times: the stabbing, jarring CHORD, the crescendo of SOUND,
the fragmentary glimpse of the Boy against the sky, his arms
outstretched, bird-like, skimming fast and low, eyes ablaze.

As the SHOTS widen, we gradually realise that the Boy is not
flying at all, but skating on a frozen lake. The whole
winter landscape is bleached white to the point of
surrealism.

The tempo of SOUND and vision builds as the Boy skims faster
and faster -

-- until suddenly his shadow looms huge across the ice - he
pitches forward - the ice rears up towards us -

-- as his head strikes the surface, the whole FRAME
shattering like shafts of black lightning.

CUT TO BLACK.

INT. TENEMENTS COTTAGE - PARLOUR. 1867. DAY

A darkened room, the blinds drawn. In foreground, the dim
shape of an open coffin, standing on a table.

Presently a door opens and a shaft of light falls across the
coffin, revealing a dead child of twelve, DAVID BARRIE. He
is a boy of wayward grace and beauty, with golden blond hair
and a soft, mocking smile, haunting and enigmatic.

A small six-year-old boy, JAIMIE (JAMES) BARRIE, approaches
the coffin from the open door, glancing cautiously over his
shoulder to make sure he is not being followed.

In contrast to his dead brother, Jaimie is a somewhat ill
formed child: his body squat, truncated, with a head too
large for his wiry body, his eyes baggy and puffed about the
edges. He's wearing "mourning blacks" and has a black arm
band on his sleeve.

Jaimie climbs up on a chair and leans over the edge of the
coffin, staring at the dead boy's smile with a look of
bewildered fascination.

JAIMIE
(a whisper)
David ...

Jaimie leans forward, strokes the boy's hair, whispers to
him in a strong Scots' dialect -

JAIMIE (CONT'D)
I 'ain 'ee, David - I 'ain 'ee.

Someone calls from the passage beyond the room.

JANE ANN (O.S.)
Jaimie? Where are 'ee Jaimie?

Jaimie glances round, then hurriedly climbs down from the
chair and hides under the table.

His elder sister, JANE ANN, enters the room. She is about
17, and speaks in the same Scots' dialect, her voice hushed
in the presence of her dead brother.

JANE ANN (CONT'D)
Far hae ye gotten tae?

From Jaimie's nervous POV, Jane Ann moves about the room,
searching for him.

JANE ANN (CONT'D)
Are ve in here hoddin?

Jaimie cowers, tries to suppress a cough but fails. Jane Ann
bends down and discovers him hiding under the table.

JANE ANN (CONT'D)
Jaimie! Coom out o' there at eence!

Jaimie crawls out from under the table, and is dragged to
his feet by Jane Ann -

JANE ANN (CONT'D)
(sharply)
James Barrie, think black burnin' shame o'
yersel'! Does yer deed brither no' mean naethin'
tae ye ava?

Jaimie glances at the coffin, then looks down at the floor.

JAIMIE
I wasna daein' nae hairm.
(pause)
Why do he smile so?

Jane Ann falters briefly, then shoes Jaimie towards the
door.

JANE ANN
Ben the hoose wi' ye before mither hears 'ee.

Jaimie pauses, then suddenly bolts from the room. Jane Ann
follows him out, closing the door behind her.

CAMERA HOLDS on the dead boy in the foreground coffin, his
smile still visible in the semi-darkness.

EXT. TENEMENTS COTTAGE & WINDOW. 1867. DAY

[In Sepia] FOUR MEN carry David's coffin from the cottage.
As they pass foreground, CAMERA HOLDS on Jaimie's face,
watching them through a chink in the window blind beyond
them.

A pause, then he turns away, the blind falling back across
the pane.

INT. TENEMENTS COTTAGE - STAIRS & BEDROOM. 1867. DAY

[Sepia] Jaimie sits huddled at the foot of a narrow
staircase, his head tucked between his knees. A door opens
on the landing above.

DOCTOR
(O.S., barely audible)
Mak shure she taks thae ilka twa hoors. Ye maur
gar her tak a richt diet.

JANE ANN (O.S.)
We've baith tried, faither an' me, but we canna
win through till her ava. We feels liksen she's
no' aiven there inside her ain body.

Jaimie squeezes himself up tight against the wall as Jane
Ann and the Doctor pass him on the stairs.

DOCTOR
Well that's nae uise ava. If she keeps on brakkin'
her hert, there'll be nae betterment. Tell her she
maun puit a stoot hert till a stey brae.

CAMERA remains on Jaimie as the Doctor leaves the house,
closing the door behind him.

Jane Ann is about to walk back upstairs when she notices
that her young brother is crying.

JANE ANN
Fat's vrang, Jaimie?

JAIMIE
She disna care a docken aboot me. She minds aboot
naebody but David.

JANE ANN
Fa?

JAIMIE
Mither. She hes nae thocht for naebody but David.

Jane Ann sits down on the stair beside him. A pause, then a
thought comes to her.

JANE ANN
Ben ye gae tae her, Jaimie. Gae ben. Gaeng ben an'
tell her she has anither laddie left.

Jaimie looks up at his sister; she smiles reassuringly,
wiping away his tears.

JANE ANN (CONT'D)
Awa' ye gae noo ... Gaeng an' tell her that. Gar
her harken til ve, Jaimie.

Jaimie hesitates a moment, then goes upstairs. He knocks
gently at a closed bedroom door. There is no reply. He
glances back down at Jane Ann, who waves him on -

JANE ANN (CONT'D)
Ben ye gae!

A pause, then Jaimie timidly opens the door and squeezes
inside, shutting it fast behind him.

The room is in semi-darkness, lit only by the thin rays of
sunlight filtering in between the drawn curtains. A long
pause, then a thin, listless voice whispers from the shadows
-

MARGARET OGILVY
Is that you?

[Sepia] Jaimie peers into the darkness, dimly discerning the
figure of his mother, MARGARET OGILVY, lying in bed. She
gazes ahead of her as if in a trance, clutching at a small
white christening robe.

MARGARET OGILVY (CONT'D)
(an anxious whisper)
Is that you?

Margaret Ogilvy continues to gaze blankly at the void before
her, as if addressing someone else. Jaimie is evidently hurt
by her question, and tears brim in his eyes -

JAIMIE
(almost ashamed)
No, it's no' him - it's just me.

A pause, then Margaret Ogilvy turns to him, holding out her
arms.

MARGARET OGILVY
Jaimie ...

Jaimie runs to his mother's arms, sobbing his heart out.

MARGARET OGILVY (CONT'D)
Oh, Jaimie, Jaimie! Dinna ye ever laive me! Ye
maun never laive me, my lief aliene. I canna dae
wantin' ve!

JAIMIE
I'll never laive ye, mither - no' ever! I'll gar
ye laugh the way he did, an' whustle the way he
did, an' plaise ye jeest like himsel'. I'll be him
to ye forever, I'll aye dae'd!

Margaret Ogilvy clings to her son, rocking him back and
forth.

MARGARET OGILVY
Aye, laddie - but no' forever.

JAIMIE
(hotly)
Dae'd aye, mither!

MARGARET OGILVY
No, Jaimie. One day ye maun grow up an' become a
man, but he'll stay my bairn forever.

Jaimie responds with a look of anguish, slowly transforming
into one of grim, silent resolve.

FADE OUT.

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS. 1897. DAWN

FADE UP on the deserted Kensington Gardens in the autumn of
1897. THEME MUSIC filters in over a series of dawn images, a
montage of anticipation, conveying the mystery of the
Gardens during Lock-Out Time: an elusive sanctuary from the
urban sprawl of London, devoid of human intrusion.

Each image lingers into the next, ending with the MAIN TITLE
over a pair of parish boundary markers: two worn stones,
said to mark the graves of two children who fell out of
their perambulators while their nurse was looking the other
way.

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS - MAIN GATES. 1897. DAY

The dawn tranquility ends with the unlocking of the park
gates, allowing patrons to enter the Gardens: morning
STROLLERS, NURSES wheeling perambulators, CHILDREN on their
way to school.

Conspicuous among the arrivals are two spectacularly
attractive young boys, GEORGE and JACK LLEWELYN DAVIES, aged
eight and seven respectively. They are dressed in white fur
coats and bright red tam-o'shanters, and both carry large
wooden hoops. Their eagerness to reach the Gardens is held
in check by their nurse, MARY HODGSON, who wheels their baby
brother Peter in an ornate perambulator.

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS. 1897. DAY

Once inside the Gardens, Mary Hodgson relinquishes her rein
on George and Jack, allowing them to join the other children
rolling hoops along the Broad Walk.

Watching them from the other side of the Broad Walk is a
small pocket-size edition of a man - J M BARRIE. He is
barely five foot tall, and though now in his mid-thirties he
looks older, a gnomish creation huddled inside an overcoat
several sizes too big for him.

His wife, MARY BARRIE, accompanies him: a slight, attractive
woman, scarcely taller than her husband. They are both
dwarfed by the presence of their huge St Bernard dog,
PORTHOS, who bounds to and from Mary, fetching sticks. But
Barrie's attention is held by the children, particularly
George ...

George and Jack rejoin Mary Hodgson, who has been conversing
with another NURSE on the business of babies. As they turn
to leave, Barrie catches George's eye. The boy smiles at
him, then saunters off.

Mary Barrie senses her husband's preoccupation, but not the
object of his gaze; he answers her mild curiosity by
pointing his stick at some inconsequential diversion. Mary
Barrie smiles, throwing another stick for Porthos.

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS - MAIN GATES. 1897. DAY

Mary Hodgson buys Jack a balloon from a portly BALLOON WOMAN
stationed outside the park gates. George stands nearby,
already equipped with a large blue one. His attention is
once again caught by the strange little man in the large
overcoat: Barrie, leaving the Gardens with Mary on his arm
and Porthos by his side.

Barrie pauses a moment in response, then slowly raises one
eyebrow at him while simultaneously lowering the other.
Again George smiles: the careless, faintly arrogant smile of
one who knows his own charm.

The others in both groups remain unaware of the silent
exchange: Mary Hodgson leads her two charges off down the
road in one direction while Mary Barrie accompanies her
husband and Porthos in the other.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GARDENS - HALLWAY. 1897. DAY

The hallway of a large, upper-middle class London house. The
CAMERA remains in LONG SHOT throughout the scene, SHOOTING
along the hall towards the closed front-door.

Presently George and Jack can be heard arguing in the street
outside as they approach the house.

GEORGE (O.S.)
I wanted the red one!

JACK (O.S.)
Well you can't, so snubs!

GEORGE (O.S.)
I'm the eldest, so it's mine!

JACK(O.S.)
Who says?

GEORGE (O.S.)
I do. It's my mess of pottage, that's what Miss
Fairfax says -

George opens the front-door with an air of righteous
superiority, followed by Jack and Mary Hodgson, who hauls in
the pram from the pavement while the two boys continue to
squabble over their balloons -

GEORGE (CONT'D)
She says the eldest always has a birthmark ...

MARY HODGSON
(slight Northern accent)
That's enough, George. If you won't talk sense,
don't talk at all.

The boys' mother, SYLVIA LLEWELYN DAVIES, wanders out from
the adjoining morning-room. Formerly a Du Maurier before her
marriage, she is a woman of unconventional beauty. Her mouth
is quite crooked, her nose tip-tilted, her eyes grey,
searching, and very mischievous.

There is something wistful, almost tragic, in her
expression, particularly when she smiles, which is often,
"as though the mystery and sadness and serenity of the moon
were in it".

Sylvia greets her boys with vague nonchalance -

SYLVIA
Hello boys.

GEORGE
'llo mother -
(to Jack)
- so if you don't mind I'll have my birthmark
now...

George snatches the balloon from Jack, and Mary Hodgson
hands it back to him as promptly -

MARY HODGSON
(to George)
Any more of that, my young man, and you'll get a
smacked b.t.m.

SYLVIA
Are these two being as plaguey as usual, Mary?
(to George and Jack) )
Go and say hello to your father.

George and Jack disappear into the morning room where their
father, ARTHUR LLEWELYN DAVIES, is standing by the
fireplace, barely visible. He is a young barrister, recently
called to the Bar;
his good looks are no less striking than those of his wife
and children, though his manner is inclined to be stiff and
a little severe.

Arthur's background of intellectual austerity is in marked
contrast to Sylvia's gay and somewhat Bohemian upbringing,
though they have both adapted well to each other's nature,
and are still very much in love.

While George and Jack pay their respects to Arthur, Sylvia
continues to talk to Mary Hodgson, the two conversations
being OVERLAPPED -

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
I'll be taking George and Jack down to Ramsgate
for the week end, so will you be sure to have
their suitcases packed for Friday morning?

MARY HODGSON
Very good, Mrs Arthur.

SYLVIA
Thank you, Mary.

ARTHUR (O.S.)
Had a good day at school?

JACK (O.S.)
Passable. Did you get him off?

ARTHUR (O.S.)
After a fashion.

GEORGE (O.S.)
You mean he's not going to swing?

ARTHUR (O.S.)
No, my boy, he's not.

Sylvia goes into the morning-room, turning back to Mary
Hodgson on her way in -

SYLVIA
Oh, and Mary I wish we didn't have to leave the
pram in the hallway - there's no room for my
flowers.

MARY HODGSON
Very good, Mrs Arthur.

ARTHUR
(to Sylvia, lightly)
I think the pram more beautiful than the flowers.

Sylvia closes the morning-room door behind her.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - BARRIE'S STUDY. 1897. DAY

A large, studio-styled drawing-room, overlooking the
Bayswater Road and the Kensington Gardens beyond. Barrie
sits at his desk, writing a letter; he is accompanied by two
inseparable companions: his pipe and his cough. This latter
affliction, the result of an early illness, has given his
voice a deep, grating resonance, at times almost a growl.

Barrie's accent is still markedly Scots, but ten years of
living among London society have produced curious anomalies,
certain words being pronounced with a correctness that would
do most Englishmen credit. He writes, or rather scrawls,
with his right hand, dragging the pen across the paper in a
series of compact, illegible jerks.

Porthos lies beside him on the floor, his mournful eyes
focussed on a well-chewed doll several inches from his nose.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Dear Sir, Thank you for the copy of your article
about my works. Your estimate of the importance of
my stories and plays is a ridicul... is an
absurdly high one, and does more credit, my dear
sir, to your heart than to your head. But it is
all very kind.

Barrie re-stokes his pipe from a tin of John Cotton #1
tobacco, padding down the level with a match-box. The
refuelling ceremony over, he continues the letter, his tone
reflecting the ambiguous modesty of one who can afford to
be.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And now turn your pen to an author of real worth,
such as Ibsen, whom I assure you is a mighty man.
Yours Sincerely, J M Barrie.

While Barrie finishes the letter, Mary Barrie coasts into
the room, laden with shopping parcels. Barrie takes no
notice of her whatsoever, and it is left to Porthos to greet
her.

Mary Barrie deposits her parcels on the sofa with character
istic flamboyance. As a former provincial actress of
mediocre talent, she still retains traits of her old
profession. A degree of somewhat self-conscious exuberance
attempts to mask her deep frustration resulting from three
years of singularly unfulfilled married life.

For this her husband is almost entirely to blame. Her
tolerance and patience towards him has been remarkable, and
it is perhaps these qualities that led a contemporary to
describe her as being "commonplace, second-rate, and
admirable."

Barrie continues with his correspondence, seemingly
oblivious to his wife's presence. She takes off her hat,
adjusts her hair in the looking-glass, talking all the
while.

MARY BARRIE
Oh, what an exhausted day! I've never seen so many
people in Whiteleys ... Can't think what they were
all doing there. It's like Ascot week - in
September!

Mary returns to the sofa, fooling with Porthos.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
Darling Porthos - yes, yes, my darling ...
(to Barrie)
Do you think it's all to do with the Jubilee?
(no response)
I suppose it must be. Well at the risk of sounding
unpatriotic, I can't wait for London to return to
normal.

Mary punctuates her chatter with nervous giggles. She
wanders over to Barrie, kissing him on his hair, as of
habit.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
Finish the chapter?

Barrie pauses in his writing, but again makes no reply.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
(sensing his mood)
What is it, Jim?

Barrie responds by handing her a magazine opened at a
particular page. Mary takes it from him, well aware of its
contents.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
(defensively)
Well?

BARRIE
(without looking up)
I thought we'd agreed, no interviews.

MARY BARRIE
Well it wasn't an interview. He just asked me a
few questions, that's all.

Barrie makes no response, carries on writing.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
Oh, Jim...
(a nervous giggle)
A few harmless questions about gardening - why
make such a fuss?

BARRIE
(sharply)
I do not wish ...
(softer)
I do not wish to have our lives paraded in public.

MARY BARRIE
(sarcastic laugh)
Good God, you're a fine one to talk! What do you
spend your entire life doing?

BARRIE
I've never given an interview in my life.

MARY BARRIE
Well there wouldn't be much point - there's
nothing left to interview. You spread us like jam
on every page you write.

BARRIE
That's my affair.

MARY BARRIE
And what about me? You might at least warn people -
(imitating his accent)
"You needn't say anything, but anything you do say
may betaken down and used as grist to my mill."

A pause, then Mary relents -

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
Oh, I'm sorry. Darling, the fact is I was as angry
as you when I read the article. I asked him not to
refer to me as an actress. I said
I was your wife ... and a very loving one at that.

Mary puts her arm around Barrie, but he remains cold.

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS. 1897. DAY

Late afternoon, and the Gardens are beginning to empty as
Lock-Out Time approaches. A military Brass Band can be heard
playing in the far distance.

Barrie strolls among the trees bordering the Broad Walk,
jotting down ideas into a little notebook, while Porthos
pads behind him, snuffling rabbit-holes.

In the background, a group of children race their hoops
along the Broad Walk. George and Jack are again conspicuous,
distinguished from the common herd by their loosely-cut blue
blouses, high-laced boots and bright red tam-o'shanters.

Suddenly Porthos spots a rabbit; he bowls after it across
the Broad Walk, swiftly entangling himself in Jack's hoop.
Jack falls over, and the resulting pile-up of boys and hoops
enables George to win the race.

George and Jack return to Mary Hodgson, who is sitting on a
bench, minding their baby brother PETER in his pram while
talking to another NURSE. Porthos saunters back to Barrie,
who has watched the incident with mild amusement - though
his reactions and moods are hard to gauge since he rarely
smiles. Side by side, Porthos is almost as the height of his
master; standing on hind legs, the dog is taller by several
inches.

While Mary Hodgson tends to Jack's scraped knee, George
stands idly by. His attention is caught by the singular
spectacle of Barrie and Porthos in the distance: the dog is
on his hind legs, waltzing with his master, his front paws
resting on Barrie's shoulders as they move out of sight
behind an old oak tree.

Round the back of the tree, Barrie kneels on the ground and
produces a clockwork soldier from his pocket while Porthos
watches with a melancholy air, his huge tail wagging in
anticipation. Barrie winds up the spring, then releases the
soldier to its fate. Porthos watches as it marches towards
him - as does George, who has crept up unnoticed by Barrie -
or so he thinks.

Suddenly the great hound pounces on the soldier: he paws it
into the air, then proceeds to dismember it limb from
painted limb, until it is reduced to mechanical shreds and
tatters. Porthos pauses a moment to survey the carnage, then
catches sight of George, standing behind Barrie on the
gnarled roots of the oak tree, and lets out a low, menacing
growl.

GEORGE
(defiantly, to Porthos)
You're not going to bite me, so you needn't think
it.

Porthos growls louder.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
(to Barrie)
He's not going to bite me.

The growl becomes a bark.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
(faltering)
Is he going to bite me?

BARRIE
(without turning round)
Not unless you ask him agreeably.

GEORGE
(nonplussed)
Why not?

BARRIE
Because he's uncommon fussy about whom he bites.
He doesn't just bite any old whippersnapper.

GEORGE
(deflated)
Oh. Am I a whippersnapper?

Barrie is still kneeling on the ground. He turns slowly
round to regard George, who is standing above him, leaning
against the tree. Barrie looks at him a moment, then slowly
raises one eyebrow while lowering the other.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
How d'you do that?

Barrie produces a pocket-dictionary from his overcoat.

BARRIE
Let's see ... Whinny - Whip - Whipper -
Whippersnapper. Hmm.
(reading)
"Small boy; young and insignificant person;
presuming or intrusive child. Orig. unkn."
(snaps dictionary shut)
Couldn't have written it better myself. Well,
small boy, does that answer your question?

GEORGE
No, small man, it does not. You still haven't told
me how you do that thing with your - your you know
- your thingamegig.

BARRIE
Pluck out the heart of my mystery, would you? Very
well, I'll tell you - but on one condition.

GEORGE
Yes?

Barrie glances about him, as if to make sure that no one is
eavesdropping.

BARRIE
Have you a good memory?

GEORGE
No. I mean yes.

BARRIE
And you come here every day?

GEORGE
Most days - except for Thursdays - that's Mary's
day off. Now go on, show me how you.....

BARRIE
(interrupting)
Mary?

GEORGE
She's our nurse. Now show me how you do it.

BARRIE
Just a minute - we haven't struck our bargain yet.
Now listen to me carefully. The next time you're
in the Kensington Gardens, just before Lock-Out
Time, I want you to leave four safety-pins, a
piece of chocolate, and an acorn wrapped up in a
penny stamp, under this root - this one here, just
by the rabbit-hole.

GEORGE
What for?

BARRIE
Don't ask questions, boy - just do as I say.

GEORGE
But what d'you want them for?

BARRIE
(lowering his voice)
Did I say they were for me?

George stares at Barrie, puzzled but intrigued.

MARY HODGSON
(calling, O.S.)
George?

GEORGE
Coming!
(to Barrie)
Alright. Now tell me how you do it.

BARRIE
Very well. But this was taught me by a pirate, by
the name of Swarthy - as villainous a creation as
one could ever hope to meet in the South China
Seas - and if you should ever cross his path, God
forbid, don't tell him that I.....

Barrie breaks off as Mary Hodgson calls out again -

MARY HODGSON
(calling sharply)
George!

GEORGE
Co-ming!

MARY HODGSON
You'll be locked in for the night if you don't
come right this minute!

BARRIE
Go on then, I'll tell you some other time.
(George hovers)
Go on, run along. If they catch you in here after
Lock-Out Time, there's no saying what mischief
they'll do to you.

GEORGE
They?

MARY HODGSON
(impatiently)
George! I'm not going to call you again.'

GEORGE
Co-ming!
(to Barrie) )
Aren't you coming too?

BARRIE
Er, no - I've, er - some matters to attend to.

GEORGE
But it's Lock-Out Time.

BARRIE
Just so. Now good-night to you.

Barrie turns to walk away, but forgets his walking-stick.
George picks it up and hands it to him.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(as to a servant)
Thank you.

Barrie whistles to Porthos, and the two set off south across
the Gardens towards the distant trees. George watches him
go, then glances down at the large root, resembling the
entrance to some underground tunnel.

MARY HODGSON
(calling)
You'll get no tea if you don't come right this
instant!

George runs back to Mary Hodgson, who is standing pram in
the Broad Walk, ready to leave.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
It's high time you learnt to do as you're told.
Who was that anyway?

GEORGE
Oh, just a man with a dog.
(to Jack)
Come on, I'll race you to the gates!

George and Jack race their hoops towards the gates, watched
by Barrie from a distance. He pauses a moment, then takes
out his little pocket note-book and jots down an idea.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Story about a boy who disappears? Hmm. The reader
never knows who or what he was.

Barrie tucks his note-book back in his pocket, then turns
and walks away with Porthos into the gathering twilight.

INT. 88 PORTLAND PLACE - DINING ROOM. 1897. NIGHT

A New Year's Eve dinner party at the home of SIR GEORGE
LEWIS, the most distinguished society lawyer of the day. The
annual occasion is one of the highlights of the season, and
the GUESTS consist of fashionable actors and actresses,
artists, writers, musicians, lawyers and politicians.

Guests are seated at numerous small tables, drinking coffee
and liqueurs. Barrie dominates the conversation at his own
particular table, which includes Mary Barrie, Sir George and
LADY LEWIS, and a MR and MRS JOHN ARDEN. He is evidently in
fine humour, lolling back in his chair and smoking a cigar
instead of his pipe.

BARRIE
(breezily)
... I was absolutely sure I'd hate it, and when we
arrived in New York I had to hide in my cabin
there were so many reporters. It was only when
Charles Frohman told me they'd come to see Ellen
Terry that I consented to leave the boat at all.
Rather red-faced too, I can assure you.

Barrie rocks with laughter.

MARY BARRIE
Between you and me, Lady Lewis, they looked on him
as rather a swell. Except that his socks didn't
match, I'm happy to say.

BARRIE
Mind you, they were rather struck by the beauty of
my voice. Strange to relate, I've only ever met
one other person who loved my voice -
(indicating Mary Barrie)
- and I'm sure you can all guess who that is.

Barrie's implication is clear enough, but the effusive Mrs
Arden takes the remark as an invitation to speculate.

MRS ARDEN
(brightly)
Your mother?

There is a brief titter of laughter, swiftly curtailed by a
paralysing raised eyebrow from Barrie.

MRS ARDEN (CONT'D)
(perceiving her blunder)
I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend - it's just
that I read your delightful book all about her and
I - uh - well ...

Mary Barrie casts the unfortunate woman a scowl lest she
make matters any worse. Barrie's exuberant mood has vanished
at a stroke, and he now graces the dinner-table with the
silence of a tomb. Mary tries to brighten the atmosphere.

MARY BARRIE
I, er - I remember when I was an actress, I once
told a reporter I'd been starring in London for
six weeks, and when I read what he'd written next
day he'd put "Mary Ansell has been starving in
London for six weeks"!
(adding)
And I didn't think anybody knew!

Everyone laughs with relief, except Barrie, who stirs his
coffee in silence, his whole body rotating with the motion
of the spoon. While the background conversation continues,
Barrie notices a BALD-HEADED MAN sitting at another table.
He fishes out his ubiquitous notebook from his waistcoat
pocket -

BARRIE (V.O.)
"Tommy and Grizel". Revise. Bald-headed man with
few hairs carefully spread over his head like
fiddle-strings.

MRS ARDEN
(to Barrie)
I hear you're, er - you're writing a sequel to
"Sentimental Tommy"?

Barrie continues to write without looking up from his
notebook.

BARRIE
Am I?

MRS ARDEN
(soldiering on)
Oh do tell, does Tommy marry Grizel?

Barrie finishes the note, all the while surveying the GUESTS
at the table behind.

BARRIE
(without looking at her)
I haven't the faintest idea.

MRS ARDEN
Oh, do let them - I'm sure they're absolutely made
for each other!

While Mrs Arden prattles on, Barrie's attention is caught by
a lady sitting with her back to him, at a slight angle -

Sylvia Llewelyn Davies. She is listening politely to a
GUEST, while at the same time surreptitiously slipping some
of the after-dinner chocolates into her silk reticule.
Arthur is further along the table, separated from her by
another GUEST.

MRS ARDEN (O.S.) (CONT'D)
I read "Tommy" three times, simply couldn't put it
down. John's read it too, haven't you, dearest? I
think it's a real masterpiece.

Barrie watches Sylvia, intrigued by her pilfering. Mrs Arden
leans forward -

MRS ARDEN (CONT'D)
I mean it.

BARRIE
(watching Sylvia)
I didn't contradict you, ma'am.

Barrie leans back on his chair so that he can whisper to
Sylvia -

BARRIE (CONT'D)
You're being watched.

Sylvia looks momentarily embarrassed, then smiles.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Who are they for?

SYLVIA
For Peter.

BARRIE
A bird?

SYLVIA
A boy.

BARRIE
Baby boy?

SYLVIA
Ten months.

BARRIE
Then I was right: they're for a bird.

SYLVIA
Really?

BARRIE
But of course. All babies are birds if they did
but know it.

SYLVIA
You seem to know a lot about it.

BARRIE
You could say I'm something of an authority.

SYLVIA
You have children yourself?

BARRIE
Yes, one or two. No, I exaggerate. One.

SYLVIA
A boy?

BARRIE
A dog.

SYLVIA
I see. And that makes you an authority?

BARRIE
Oh, decidedly. I've always held that boys and dogs
have much in common - only dogs have a keener
sense of humour.

The GUEST sitting between Sylvia and Arthur leaves the
table, allowing Arthur to hear Sylvia's conversation with
Barrie.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
What else can I tell you?

SYLVIA
(after giving it thought)
What do you say to a boy when he won't take his
Castor Oil?

BARRIE
Oh, that's easy. Just tell him he'll squeak if he
doesn't. He might even rust up altogether.

SYLVIA
(laughing)
Now why didn't I think of that?

ARTHUR (O.S.)
Because you're not a writer.

SYLVIA
I'm sorry - this is my husband, Arthur.

Arthur stands up to shake hands with Barrie.

ARTHUR
(pleasantly) )
Llewelyn Davies, how d'you do.

BARRIE
Barrie.

SYLVIA
(to Barrie)
I'm Sylvia - Llewelyn Davies. You know my brother?

BARRIE
Do I?

SYLVIA
Gerald du Maurier?

Sylvia indicates where GERALD DU MAURIER is sitting at a
nearby table with his escort, ETHEL BARRYMORE.

BARRIE
Ah yes. No, I've never had the pleasure.

SYLVIA
Would you like me to introduce you?

BARRIE
No, no. To tell you the truth, I don't get on too
well with actors. Better off with dogs.

SYLVIA
And children.

The other Guest returns to his seat between Arthur and
Sylvia, allowing Sylvia and Barrie to resume talking between
themselves.

BARRIE
Oh, not all children by any means. Some of them
rank as arch-enemies. Usually the ones I care for
most. I've always held boys to be at their finest
when at their most heartless.

SYLVIA
But you don't have any of your own?

BARRIE
Well, yes and no. Yes, I have a boy - a rather
depraved one I'm happy to say - but he's not
exactly mine.

SYLVIA
You've adopted him?

BARRIE
You could say that. At any rate he calls me father
from time to time, and it rather melts me to hear
him say it, especially in the toy shop, when I go
in to buy Porthos a toy - that's the dog. And of
course the shop-keeper thinks I'm George's father,
so I'm always in a constant tremble whether to
linger that I might have more of it, or snatch him
away before he volunteers the information,
"Actually, he's not really my father."

Sylvia lowers her voice from Arthur, who is now engaged in
conversation with the GUEST between them.

SYLVIA
Tell me, this boy of yours. George. Does he have
any brothers?

BARRIE
Yes, two.

SYLVIA
Jack and Peter?

BARRIE
(with growing curiosity)
That's right.

SYLVIA
And you meet them in the Kensington Gardens with
their nurse?

BARRIE
Every day, except Thursdays...

SYLVIA
... which is her day off?

BARRIE
Correct.

Sylvia leans forward.

SYLVIA
(lowering)
Mr Barrie, I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell
you this, but your boy's father is sitting next to
me.

Sylvia gently tips her chair back, affording Barrie an
unobstructed view of her husband.

Arthur smiles pleasantly at Barrie, unaware of their
conversation. The brief silence is broken by the chimes of
midnight.

SIR GEORGE LEWIS (O.S.)
Ladies and gentlemen, may I propose a toast. To
the Queen, to the Empire, and to all of you here,
for a very happy and prosperous 1898!

The GUESTS raise their glasses, chorusing "Happy New Year"
to each other, followed by applause.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GARDENS - HALLWAY. 1898. NIGHT

Arthur is about to remove Sylvia's cloak after returning
from the New Year's Eve dinner party: instead, Sylvia puts
her arms around his neck, slowly turns him round and kisses
him. They are interrupted by a discreet cough from Mary
Hodgson as she comes down stairs.

MARY HODGSON
Happy New Year, Mr and Mrs Arthur.

SYLVIA
Happy New Year, Mary.

ARTHUR
Happy New Year ...

SYLVIA
Is anything wrong?

MARY HODGSON
No, only Master George - he pulled out that tooth
of his and he couldn't get to sleep so I've had to
give him a draught.

SYLVIA
Oh, I hope he hasn't spoiled your evening too
much.

MARY HODGSON
Not at all, I was only doing the mending. Would
either of you like a cup of something?

SYLVIA
Not for me, thank you Mary. I'll just go up and
see that George is alright.

Sylvia goes to the stairs.

ARTHUR
(to Sylvia)
You might be needing this...

Arthur produces a sixpence from his waistcoat pocket, hands
it to Sylvia.

SYLVIA
I won't be a moment.

Sylvia takes the sixpence, goes upstairs.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GARDENS - NIGHT NURSERY. 1897. NIGHT

George lies asleep in bed, his thumb in his mouth, his hand
curled about his nose. Jack lies in the next bed, their baby
brother Peter in a cot by the window.

Sylvia tiptoes over to George's bed, gently lifts his
pillow, extracts a small white tooth from under it and
replaces it with the sixpence, then kisses him softly on the
forehead.

GEORGE
(sleepily)
Mother?

SYLVIA
Shhh - go back to sleep.

GEORGE
Did you get tipsy?

SYLVIA
Just nicely, thank you.
(kisses him)
By the way, I met a friend of yours.

GEORGE
Who?

SYLVIA
Your friend ... Mr Barrie.

GEORGE
Hmm?

SYLVIA
The man you meet in the Kensington Gardens.

GEORGE
Hmm?

SYLVIA
The man with the dog.

GEORGE
Oh... him.

SYLVIA
Did you know he's a very famous writer?

GEORGE
No. But he can wiggle his ears.

Sylvia smiles, tucks his back to sleep.

SYLVIA
Happy New Year, darling.

As she walks back to the door, a plaintive cry -

GEORGE
Don't shut the door.

Sylvia goes, leaving the door ajar. George closes his eyes.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1898. NIGHT

Barrie and Mary Barrie return from the New Year's Eve dinner
party in high spirits, to be greeted by an equally buoyant
Porthos, who slobbers Mary with affection -

MARY BARRIE
Porthos! Oh my darling, Happy New Year old thing -
Happy New Year!

Porthos almost knocks her over in passion

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
(laughing)
That's enough, Porthos!
(to Barrie)
I think he's been drinking too!

While Mary continues her affectionate doggy-talk, Barrie
takes off his coat and tie, and slumps down on the sofa.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
(to Porthos)
Have you been celebrating with your little girl
friend next door, hmm? Darling Porthos, what would
I do without you, eh?
(to Barrie)
How about a little nightcap?

BARRIE
(yawning)
I don't think my eyebrows could take another drop.

MARY BARRIE
Oh come on - we can sleep till luncheon, it's New
Year's Day.

Mary brings a bottle of cognac and a glass over to the sofa.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
Tomorrow I thought we might go for a drive in the
country. Sir George was telling me about a cottage
he's found near Farnham with a lake ... it sounds
just the place I've been looking for, and I
thought we might go and look at it tomorrow?

BARRIE
(teasing)
You and Sir George, eh?

MARY BARRIE
Don't be silly, darling - you and me.

She kisses him briefly, pours out a glass of cognac to share
between them, then settles down next to him.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
And who were you flirting with?

BARRIE
(vaguely)
Oh ... just a friend of a friend.

Mary Barrie raises the glass to Barrie's lips. He takes a
sip, but no more.

MARY BARRIE
What friend?

BARRIE
You don't know him.

MARY BARRIE
Her husband?

BARRIE
No.

MARY BARRIE
(giggling)
She is married ...?

BARRIE
Respectably.

A pause. Mary puts her arm round Barrie's shoulders, tries
to kiss him passionately. It is clearly an ordeal for him,
and after a dispirited attempt, he pushes her gently away.
Mary is evidently familiar with his moods and pours another
drink.

MARY BARRIE
Well? Who is she?

BARRIE
(spelling it out)
If you must know, she is one Sylvia Llewelyn
Davies, the wife of one Arthur Llewelyn Davies ...
the daughter of one George Du Maurier, brother of
one Gerald Du Maurier.

MARY BARRIE
But we don't know the Du Mauriers.

BARRIE
I didn't say we did.

MARY BARRIE
You said she was a friend of a friend.

A long pause, then Barrie looks away.

BARRIE
I was referring to her son.

MARY BARRIE
Ah.
(pause)
And - uh - how old is her son?

BARRIE
He tells me he's just chimed six of the clock, but
- well, you know how boys lie about their age.

Mary Barrie hesitates a moment, then starts to laugh in her
giggly, nervous manner.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
What's so funny?

MARY BARRIE
You.

A long pause. Barrie gets to his feet.

BARRIE
I think I'd better have another go at that chapter
...
(mumbling to himself)
Poor Tommy ... poor Tommy ...
(to Mary)
Yes, you pop up to bed - I'll be up later.

MARY BARRIE
You know you don't have to have it finished for
another six months.

BARRIE
I know, but I'm in the mood.

Barrie wanders away to his desk, leaving Mary alone on the
sofa.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
I can only write when I'm in the mood.

Mary raises her eyebrow. She remains seated a moment,
staring blankly at the empty cognac glass. Then, with a
resigned sigh she re-corks the bottle and returns it to the
sideboard.

Barrie sits at his desk, sorting through a confusion of
manuscripts, letters and bills until he finds the manuscript
he is working on: "Tommy and Grizel".

Mary Barrie wanders past, kisses him as of habit on the top
of his hair, then leaves the room.

A long pause before Barrie begins to write.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Poor Tommy! He was still a boy, he was ever a boy,
trying sometimes, as now, to be a man ... but
always when he looked round, he saw his boyhood
holding out its arms to him and calling him back
to play. He was so fond of being a boy that he
could not grow up.

Barrie pauses to reflect on his own observation, idly
running his pencil along his bottom lip.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
In a younger world, where there were only boys and
girls, he might have been a gallant figure. Ah, if
he could have loved in this way, no one would have
been more loved than she. He knew it was...
(beat)
He knew it was tragic that such love as hers
should be given to him, but what more could he do
than he was doing? ...

LAP DISSOLVE:

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS. 1899. DAY

George kneels by the roots of the old oak tree, burrowing
with his hand into a dark hole, "the entrance to old
Solomon's Cave, leading to the fairies' Winter Palace" -

BARRIE (V.O.)
... He could not make himself anew, and boys
cannot love. Oh, is it not cruel to ask a boy to
love?

George extracts something from the cave, wrapped up in a
large dock leaf. He hides it in his pocket, then runs back
to the Broad Walk where Barrie and Jack are walking behind
Mary Hodgson and her pram, carrying a cricket-bat and
wickets, and accompanied by Porthos.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(to Jack)
... you'll have to go a long way before you catch
up with my bowling analysis for last year. It was
the most spectacular of the season: 3 overs, 283
runs, 3 wides, and no wickets.

George shows Barrie his day's haul from the cave: a large,
juicy caterpillar.

GEORGE
I think it's just another Tiger Moth, but it might
be a Death's Head. Can I put it in your pocket?

BARRIE
Yes, but mind it doesn't go to sleep in my pipe
like the last one did. I wondered why the tobacco
tasted so strange.

JACK
Ugh!

BARRIE
Not unpleasant, mind. I'm told that in Arabia it's
considered a rare delicacy.

George moves closer to Barrie, out of Jack's earshot.

GEORGE
There was something else too.

George unwraps the dock-leaf to reveal a set of Pan Pipes.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
I found them in Old Solomon's Cave. D'you think
the fairies left them for me?

JACK
(chipping in)
Left what?

GEORGE
Nothing.

JACK
Well what is it?

George looks at Barrie for his approval.

GEORGE
(to Barrie)
Shall I?

Barrie nods, and George shows Jack the Pan Pipes.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
The fairies left them. They often leave things for
me...

JACK
(ever the skeptic)
Fairies!

BARRIE
You don't believe in them I take it?

JACK
No. Why, should I?

BARRIE
Well that's up to you of course, but I can tell
you this: every time a boy says "I don't believe
in fairies" there's a fairy somewhere in the world
that falls down dead.

GEORGE
He's right you know.

JACK
(rubbing his hands)
Oh lummy, then I must have killed tons of them.
Let's have a look.

Barrie watches as George shows Jack the pipes.

BARRIE
(knowledgeably)
Yes, they're Pan Pipes - they've certainly been
left by the fairies. Who knows, they might even
have been left by the Great God Pan himself.

JACK
Wait a minute, those aren't Pan's pipes, look -
they're Peter's ... they're the ones Peter got in
his stocking at Christmas.

BARRIE
All right, Peter Pan's then.

GEORGE
Who's Peter Pan?

BARRIE
(no idea)
Who's Peter Pan? Why everybody knows who Peter Pan
is.

GEORGE
Well I don't - and I think you've just made him
up.

JACK
And I think you stole those pipes from our
nursery!

BARRIE
Absolute poppycock.

JACK
How'd they get here then?

BARRIE
Well, I - er - I expect ..

Barrie has a convenient coughing spasm to give himself time
to think up a plausible answer.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
I daresay - er - Peter left them behind when he
flew back.

GEORGE & JACK
(together)
Flew?!

BARRIE
O ye of little faith! Why do you think your loving
parents put bars on the nursery windows? To keep
you from flying away of course.

GEORGE
But we haven't got bars on our windows.

BARRIE
Ah, well, there you have it. You see, all children
were birds once, and I expect Peter's still got
itchy shoulders and likes to fly about o' nights.

JACK
But we can't fly!

BARRIE
Therein the tragedy: you've lost your faith. The
only reason that birds can fly and we can't is
because they have perfect faith ... for to have
faith is to have wings.

Barrie reacts favourably to his own maxim and jots it down
in his notebook.

JACK
(sing-song fashion)
I don't think I believe you.

BARRIE
And why not, pray?

JACK
Well how can a bird turn into a baby?

BARRIE
How can a caterpillar turn into a butterfly?

GEORGE
(to Jack, victorious)
So snubs, Mister Know-it-all!

Jack thumps George, and they run off fighting by Porthos.

Barrie watches them a moment, then takes out his notebook.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Childless man meets boy in Gardens, a la George
and self. Scheme to burrow under his mother's
influence - take him from her, make him utterly
mine. I work hard to retain his love, but soon
he'll grow out of me. Important to stress this,
the knowing that it can't last. ...

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GARDENS - MORNING ROOM. 1899. DAY

As Barrie's notebook V.O. continues, he observes Sylvia
sewing a new tam-o'shanter. George sits nearby at the tea
table, talking incessantly to her, while Jack stuffs himself
with chocolate alphabetical biscuits, despite Mary Hodgson's
disapproving looks.

Barrie sits to one side, his notebook observations
OVERLAPPED with George's almost inaudible background
chatter.

BARRIE (V.O.)
The boy's mother - use Sylvia as model, a woman
who will always look glorious as a mother. Nose
tip tilted, crooked smile. A woman to confide in.
No sex in this - we feel it in both man and woman.
All the secrets of motherhood you feel behind
those calm eyes.

GEORGE
(a gabbled monologue)
Mr Barrie showed us some graves in Kensington
Gardens where Peter Pan's buried some children who
fell out of their pram when their nurse wasn't
looking, and he says that sometimes Peter takes
dead children a part of the way so's they won't be
frightened, but best of all he likes to dance on
their graves and make them laugh. Oh, and Mr
Barrie says it's not true what father said about
how people have babies, he says they're little
white birds who live on Bird Island before they
turn into babies ...

Barrie's VOICE-OVER FADES, and George becomes more audible -

GEORGE (CONT'D)
... and Peter was a white bird too, only his
mother barred the windows and that's why - Hey,
Jack's eaten all the G's - they're my favourites!

MARY HODGSON
Well you shouldn't talk so much.

GEORGE
(to Jack)
Well you jolly well watch out!

Jack takes no notice and continues stuffing.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
(to Sylvia)
So anyway, he flew away to Kensington Gardens 'cos
he didn't want to grow up and work in a boring
office and things...

George's voice fades as Barrie continues his notes -

BARRIE (V.O.)
Could call my story about George "The Little White
Bird". George thinks book all about him - mother
sees through this, knows it's all about me.

GEORGE (O.S.)
... he just wants to be a little boy like Mowgli
and have fun. So he lives on Bird Island in the
Serpentine with the Lost Boys and Old Solomon Caw -
he's the old crow who gives people babies ...

George's voice takes over as Barrie's VOICE-OVER fades.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
So if you want to have a baby, you write to him
and ask for a bird. That's how people have
babies... Mr Barrie says so.

Sylvia walks over to George to measure the tam-o'shanter on
him for size. We now see that she is six months' pregnant.

SYLVIA
Perhaps if I gave the letter to Mr Barrie, he
might deliver it for me?

BARRIE
I shall see that he gets it in person.

GEORGE
But if you want a girl this time, for heaven's
sake don't ask for one or he'll send you another
boy.
(to Barrie)
What sort of bird shall we choose for her?
(to Sylvia)
Mr Barrie says I was a robin 'cos I'm such a
gallant fellow...

Sylvia tries to measure George -

SYLVIA
Hold still a moment!
(beat)
And what sort of bird was Peter?

GEORGE
Oh, Peter's different - you see he's only half
human - that's when he lives in our nursery - but
the other half lives on the island, and Mr Barrie
says that one day he might fly away altogether,
so's he can stay a boy for ever and always. But
it's too late for me and Jack -

MARY HODGSON
(correcting him)
Jack and I.

GEORGE
(correcting her)
Jack and me. We're done for.

MARY HODGSON
Now less talking and finish your tea.

GEORGE
But I've finished. Can I get down please? I want
to show mother my caterpillars.

MARY HODGSON
Then say your grace first.

GEORGE
(swiftly)
Thanks for the tea.

MARY HODGSON
That wasn't much of a grace.

GEORGE
Wasn't much of a tea either - Jack's eaten it all.

SYLVIA
If you go on stuffing like that, Jack, you'll be
sick tomorrow.

JACK
(cheerily)
I'll be sick tonight.

Barrie responds to the line while Jack goes on stuffing.

MARY HODGSON
(to Jack)
And you'll be the one who clears up the mess.

George goes over to Barrie, slips his hand in his pocket and
takes out the matchbox. Jack notices that Barrie is writing
in his notebook; he gets down from the table and goes over
to him while George shows Sylvia his caterpillar.

JACK
(to Barrie)
What you writing?

BARRIE
Oh, just something you said.

JACK
Something funny?

BARRIE
It might raise a smile in the gallery. Might even
pay you for it.

JACK
(eagerly)
How much?

Mary Hodgson reacts to Barrie's indulgence, but says
nothing.

BARRIE
What do you think it's worth?

JACK
(imitating Scots' accent)
At least a shillin'.

Barrie considers.

BARRIE
Tell you what I'll do, I'll make you a sporting
offer. I'll give you a shillin', now, and there's
an end of it, or I'll pay you a halfpenny for
every night of the play I use it in. The choice is
yours.

JACK
(to Sylvia)
Mother?

SYLVIA
Yes, dearest?

JACK
What do you think?

SYLVIA
Well that depends on whether you think Mr Barrie's
play is going to be a success or not.

JACK
Oh.
(to Barrie)
In that case I'll take the money.

BARRIE
Wise fellow.

Barrie hands Jack a shilling as Arthur comes into the room,
dressed in his shirt-sleeves.

ARTHUR
Sylvia dear, you haven't seen my cuff-links, have
you? The blue and gold ones? I could have sworn I
left them on the dressing table.
(greeting Barrie stiffly)
Mr Barrie.

SYLVIA
(casually)
Jimmy's been out with the boys in the park - he's
just dropped in for a cup of tea.

ARTHUR
(flatly)
Ah. Yes. Yes, my cuff-links ... can't think what
on earth I did with them.

SYLVIA
Have you looked in the sewing-room?

ARTHUR
Good idea.

Arthur turns to leave.

ARTHUR (CONT'D)
Evening boys.

GEORGE & JACK
(together)
Evening father.

Arthur pauses a moment in the doorway.

ARTHUR
Sylvia dear, don't you think you ought to be
getting ready? You know what the traffic can be
like.

Arthur leaves the room.

MARY HODGSON
(to George and Jack)
Yes, and you too, boys - time for Bengers and bed.

GEORGE
(to Barrie)
Will you come up and tell us a story?

BARRIE
(bellowing)
Get up stairs, you thundering curmudgeons, or I'll
kick you round the room!

George and Jack bolt from the room in a flash, followed by
Mary Hodgson.

SYLVIA
(laughing)
I must try that myself next time.
(pause)
Would you like to have a drink? I'm quite sure you
could do with one after those two all afternoon.
They can be quite a handful, especially George.
(goes to sideboard)
I only hope the next one's a girl for a change.

BARRIE
But why? You seem so good at boys, and after all,
this is the age of the specialist.

SYLVIA
(smiling)
Whisky?

BARRIE
Thank you.

SYLVIA
But Arthur would so dearly love to have a girl
though. You know what fathers are like.

A moment of brief awkwardness as Sylvia remembers that
Barrie has no children himself.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
Did you have any brothers and sisters yourself?

BARRIE
Yes, one or two. No, eight or ten, I forget which.
But anyway all of us living in the one wee
cottage.

SYLVIA
(handing him whisky)
Your poor mother!

BARRIE
Well at least she had a bed to herself - we
children had to take it in turns. It was the same
with the sugar - one lump between eight of us.
(Sylvia laughs)
No, really. Mother used to tie the lump from a
piece of string and hang it from the ceiling, then
at tea-time we children would swing the lump and
dunk it from cup to cup, always starting with the
eldest. I think I must have been about ten years
of age before I had my first taste of sugar, which
is probably why I've had a sweet tooth ever since.
David had....
(breaks off; a pause)
I'm sorry ...
(sits down)
David was Mother's favourite son, but he was
killed in an accident when he was twelve.

SYLVIA
How dreadful.

BARRIE
Oh, not really. Not much happens to us after we're
twelve. But it was a terrible blow to my mother.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GARDENS - HALLWAY. 1899. DAY

Arthur comes downstairs, dressed in evening clothes. He
pauses by the looking-glass at the foot of the stairs to
adjust his tie, reacting to Barrie's voice emanating from
the morning-room.

BARRIE (O.S.)
The only method I devised to make her forget about
David was to get her to tell me stories about her
own girlhood. Indeed I learnt so much about hers
that the other day when George was asking me about
my childhood I found myself telling him about hers
instead of mine.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GARDENS - MORNING ROOM. 1899. DAY

Sylvia sits near Barrie, sewing the tam-o'shanter.

BARRIE
You know I sometimes wonder if I'll ever be able
to write a story without that little girl
wandering confidently through its pages. But of
course I never really made her forget about David.
After all, he had the advantage.

SYLVIA
Why?

BARRIE
Because.
(pause)
Because when I grew rusty and became a man, he was
still a boy of twelve. I always....

Barrie breaks off as Arthur enters the room.

SYLVIA
(to Barrie, gently)
Go on.

BARRIE
There's no more to tell.

ARTHUR
I trust I'm not interrupting?

SYLVIA
Of course you're not, darling.

ARTHUR
You were right about the cuff links. Under the
things on the ironing board. Can't think how they
got there.

SYLVIA
I expect you left them in your shirt.

ARTHUR
Yes, I expect I did.
(stiffly, to Barrie)
And - how's Mrs Barrie?

BARRIE
Oh, she jogs along, thank you.

SYLVIA
You must bring her round to dinner one evening.

BARRIE
(without enthusiasm)
Yes. Yes, well - er - if I'm going to tell those
boys a story, I'd better be cutting along.

SYLVIA
I'll come and help you.

BARRIE
No, no - please. I don't want to be a trouble, and
I know the way.
(to Porthos)
Come on, old fellow.

Barrie leaves the room, followed by Porthos who pads out
behind him.

Arthur pours himself a drink.

SYLVIA
(reflectively)
Oh - poor Jimmy ...

ARTHUR
What's so poor about him?

SYLVIA
He was telling me about his childhood ... about
his brother David and his mother.

ARTHUR
(wryly)
Margaret Ogilvy.

SYLVIA
He told you too?

ARTHUR
Not personally, but for the modest price of four
shillings you can buy the whole heart-breaking
story at any railway bookstall. I gather it's made
him a small fortune.

SYLVIA
(a shade disillusioned)
Oh. Still, I can't see anything wrong in making a
small fortune from one's own memoirs. Papa did
very nicely out "Trilby".

Arthur walks over to the fireplace, preoccupied and uneasy.
Sylvia continues her sewing.

ARTHUR
I suppose you invited him in?

SYLVIA
Why, do you mind?

ARTHUR
Well it is beginning to get a little out of hand,
isn't it.

SYLVIA
Not that I've noticed.

ARTHUR
I mean all this following the boys round like a
sort of lap-dog. If he's so fond of children, why
doesn't he have a few of his own?

SYLVIA
I expect there are reasons.

ARTHUR
I don't doubt it.

SYLVIA
But why should it matter to you?

ARTHUR
Because it does matter, that's why. I get little
enough time with the boys as it is, and I....
(flustered)
Besides, what right has he got, wandering in here
day in and day out as if he owned the place?

SYLVIA
I invited him in.

ARTHUR
Well you didn't yesterday because yesterday I was
the only one here.

SYLVIA
Yesterday you invited him in.

ARTHUR
Well - one tries to be civil.

Sylvia gets up, but her pregnancy makes movement difficult.
Arthur helps her to her feet.

SYLVIA
I really don't see what you're making such a fuss
about, I mean Jimmy's a friend of the boys,
they're friends of his - it all seems perfectly
reasonable to me.

ARTHUR
Well it doesn't to me. Nor to one or two other
people, come to that. To be perfectly frank, they
find the whole thing rather odd.

SYLVIA
What's so odd about it, for heaven's sake?

ARTHUR
You know perfectly well what I mean. I mean odd.
Unhealthy.

SYLVIA
I'm none too sure that I do know what you mean,
but if it's what I think you mean, then I'd say
you were being a very poor judge of character -
(gently)
- which I know you not to be.

ARTHUR
(retreating)
Well no, I'm not suggesting anything like that of
course.
(pause)
Oh, I daresay he's a decent enough sort of fellow
really, I just wish he wouldn't carry on as if ...
well, as if he owned them.

SYLVIA
(smiling)
Arthur dear, you've got it all quite wrong. He
doesn't own them. They own him.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GARDENS - NIGHT NURSERY. 1899. DUSK

Barrie kneels between George and Jack, saying their prayers
beside George's bed, while Mary Hodgson lights the night
lights. Peter is asleep in his cot under the window.

[Note: It is this nursery that is to become the model for
the Darling Nursery in "Peter Pan"; the set should therefore
bear a close resemblance to Barrie's description, given at
the beginning of Act I.]

GEORGE & JACK
(allegretto)
... deliver-us-from-evil-for thine-is-the-Kingdom
the-power-and the-glory-for-ever-and-ever-Amen.

GEORGE
(an afterthought)
Oh yes, and please God grant me a pair of
knickerbockers.

An initial laugh from Barrie turns into a coughing spasm,
and the two boys slap him hard on the back.

BARRIE
(spluttering)
Careful, or you'll knock my false tooth out!

GEORGE
Well it'll serve you right. Mother says you smoke
far too much, and one day you'll cough yourself
into a thousand pieces.

BARRIE
Aye, though it won't be the cough that carries me
off, but the coffin they carry me off in. I
remember my father always used to say that, and
then he'd say, "if you go on coughing like that,
Jaimie, you'll cough your insides out." Of course
I never took any notice, and one day do you know
what he did? He went down to old Tammas the
butcher and he bought up six pounds of sheep's
innards. Then that night he stole into my room and
put them on my pillow, so that when I woke up the
next morning I'd think I'd coughed my insides out.

GEORGE
(wide-eyed)
Did you?

BARRIE
Well, I went down to breakfast looking michty
white, and my father said to me, "Well, Jaimie,
did you nae cough out your insides last night?"
And I said, "Aye, father, that I did, but with the
grace of God and the help of a tea-spoon I put
them all back again."

George and Jack laugh uproariously at Barrie's anecdote,
told in his customary deadpan fashion.

MARY HODGSON
Shhh - less noise or you'll wake up Peter. Come on
now, into bed the pair of you.

GEORGE
Oh, but Mr Barrie was going to tell us another
story.

MARY HODGSON
Bless me, child - how many more do you want?

GEORGE
As many as he'd like to tell us ... Nurse.

MARY HODGSON
Any more of your pert replies young man and you'll
find my Gregory Powder on the end of your tongue.

Sylvia enters the room -

SYLVIA
It's all right, Mary - I'll see them into bed.

MARY HODGSON
Very good, Mrs Arthur. They've said their prayers
and they're all ready.

Barrie's voice LAPS OVER as he jots down George's remark in
his notebook.

BARRIE (V.O.)
George praying: "Oh, God, grant me a pair of k
nickerbockers."

MARY HODGSON
(to Sylvia)
Good night, Mrs Arthur.

SYLVIA
Good night, Mary.

Mary leaves the room and Sylvia turns to her boys.

JACK
(sniggering)
Mrs Arthur!

GEORGE
(to Sylvia)
Oh, Mrs Arthur, Mr Barrie's been telling us the
most awfully grizly stories. Please can't he stay
and tell us just one more?

SYLVIA
I'm quite sure he's had enough of you both for one
evening.

Sylvia goes to kiss Jack, but he disappears under the
bedclothes.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
Don't I get a kiss?

JACK
(reluctantly)
Oh, all right.

Jack reappears from under the sheets and offers up his cheek
for a kiss.

JACK (CONT'D)
But if father tries it, I'll kick him.

GEORGE
Are you going out for long?

SYLVIA
No, no - and you'll be quite safe. Nothing can
harm you once the night lights are lit ... despite
what Mr Barrie might have told you.

JACK
(hiding under sheets)
I'm not scared.

Barrie and Sylvia move towards the door, followed by
Porthos.

SYLVIA
Sweet dreams.

GEORGE
Night, mother. Night old Crock.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GDNS - LANDING. 1899. DUSK

Barrie and Sylvia leave the nursery -

BARRIE
(to Porthos )
Come on, old boy - come on.

Porthos squeezes round the door, Barrie purposely closing
it.

SYLVIA
No, I always leave...

BARRIE
Shhh...

Barrie holds the door closed, awaiting the plaintive cry -

GEORGE (O.S.)
Don't shut the door!

With a gleam of satisfaction, Barrie obligingly re-opens the
door, leaving it slightly ajar.

BARRIE
It's nectar to my ears.

Barrie and Sylvia move along the landing towards the stairs.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
By the by, Mary and I are thinking of buying a
cottage in the country, somewhere for Porthos to
grow in - which he seems to do about six inches a
night - and we were wondering whether you'd
perhaps all like to come down in the summer?

Barrie and Sylvia walk away, CAMERA HOLDING on the empty
landing and the door to the Night Nursery.

SYLVIA
(O.S., her voice receding)
Well that sounds marvellous, but it would depend
on Arthur's work ...

The CAMERA moves slowly in on the Night Nursery door.

GEORGE (O.S.)
Psst ... Jack?

JACK (O.S.)
Hmm?

GEORGE (O.S.)
D'you think he'll be all right?

JACK (O.S.)
Who?

GEORGE (O.S.)
Peter of course. You don't think he'll fly away?

JACK (O.S.)
Course not. Go to sleep.

GEORGE (O.S.)
Alright. But don't blame me if he does.

No response from Jack.

INT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GDNS - NIGHT NURSERY. 1899. DUSK

The nursery is lit by the glow of the night lights, the
flames flickering in the soft breeze from the open window.

Presently Jack pokes his head above the sheets and looks
cautiously about.

JACK
(an anxious whisper)
George?
(urgently)
George!

GEORGE
(sleepily)
Mmm?

JACK
Mary's left the window open. P'raps you'd better
close it.

George sighs, then gets out of bed and tiptoes over to the
window, checking to see that Peter is still in his cot.

From the street below comes the distant sound of "Good
nights" and the front door closing.

George steps up on tiptoe to close the window, pausing to
look down at the street -

EXT. 31 KENSINGTON PARK GDNS - WINDOW & STREET. 1899. DUSK

George gazes wistfully down from the window.

From his POV he sees Barrie walking slowly away down the
street, a lonely figure with only Porthos for company.

George remains at the window a moment longer, watching
Barrie's receding figure, then turns and is gone, the
curtain falling back across the panes.

SLOW FADE OUT.

EXT. BLACK LAKE COTTAGE & DRIVE. 1901. DAY

FADE UP on Black Lake Cottage on a blazing summer's day: a
large country retreat surrounded by a pine forest. A sign on
the front lawn reads: "PERSONS WHO COME TO STEAL THE FRUIT
ARE REQUESTED NOT TO WALK ON THE FLOWERS".

The front door opens and George, Jack and Peter (now aged 4)
stride out of the cottage, dressed for the kill in their
knickerbockers and red tam-o'shanters. George carries a
black axe and a large bow, his shirt bulging with arrows,
while Jack wields a menacing red hatchet. Peter follows
behind with Barrie, the former armed with a garden rake, the
latter with a camera mounted on a tripod.

The party set off into the forest, with PORTHOS bounding
after them; Sylvia stands in the porchway, holding her
newest arrival, MICHAEL, as she waves good-bye to them.

From an upper window of the cottage, a resigned Mary Barrie
also watches them leave.

EXT. BLACK LAKE & WOODS. 1901. DAY

[Music over] PORTHOS leads the way down a narrow forest
track, followed by Barrie and the BOYS.
CAPTION:
THE BOY CASTAWAYS OF BLACK LAKE ISLAND

[Note: Captions to appear like the dialogue cards in a
silent movie.] Barrie and the BOYS reach the shore of Black
Lake. The lake is only a few feet at its deepest, but in the
hazy heat of summer it resembles a South Seas lagoon,
surrounded by pine trees.
CAPTION:
A RECORD OF THE TERRIBLE
OF THE BROTHERS
DAVIES IN THE SUMMER OF 1901

Barrie directs George, Jack and Peter into position by the
edge of the lake, then photographs them, their weapons
raised in the air. This is the first of a series of SEPIA
PHOTO GRAPHS interpolated throughout the Black Lake sequence
that follows, and are based on Barrie's original
photographs. The summer holiday is spread over a number of
weeks, and there is therefore no particular continuity of
action or clothing.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER 1:
WE SET OUT TO BE WRECKED

Barrie stands on the shore of a little cove, setting up his
camera, while George and Jack row towards him in a punt,
pointing out to Peter the sea-monsters that lurk beneath the
surface in the form of tree-roots.

As the punt glides into the cove, Barrie hails them -

BARRIE
Ralph, Jack and Peterkin, I salute ye! Welcome to
the Coral Island!

Barrie photographs the boys cheering in the punt, then
prepares for a second photograph of the inevitable as George
and Jack clamber along a tree-root to the shore -

GEORGE
(falling in)
Mary's going to kill us!

Barrie photographs Jack as he follows George into the lake.

In a clearing in the forest, Barrie helps the boys build a
Marooner's Hut.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER II:
WE SET ABOUT THE BUILDING OF A HUT

Barrie's participation in the boys' adventure is
occasionally punctuated by fleeting moments of self
awareness: the introspection of a writer unashamedly
intrigued by the enigma of his own nature.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER III:
AFTER THREE WEEKS OF INCESSANT
TOIL, THE HUT APPROACHED COMPLETION

The boys pose in front of their Marooner's Hut for the
benefit of Barrie's camera, Jack swigging on an empty bottle
of ale, George puffing at Barrie's pipe.

JACK
(to Barrie, vaguely)
What you going to do with all these pictures?

In LONG SHOT: George, Jack and. Peter prowl through the
"haunted groves of Black Lake", distant flecks of red and
white clothing glinting like flashes of sunlight through the
dark undergrowth.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER IV:
DEEPER AND DEEPER INTO THOSE
PRIMEVAL FORESTS

George leads his brothers along a forest track.

PETER
(pointing)
There's a crocodile's thing there.

GEORGE
What thing?

JACK
You don't get crocodiles here anyway.

GEORGE
(pausing)
Shh ... I think Mr Barrie's around here somewhere.
Let's try and ambush him.

The boys sneak on past CAMERA, unaware that Barrie is
observing them from the branches of a tree overhead.

In another part of the forest, Barrie hangs coconuts on
pieces of string from a tree, then hurries out of sight as
the boys approach.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
Look - coconuts!

JACK
(ever the sceptic)
Coconuts don't grow in England, silly.

PETER
I thought coconuts grew on sticks.

George jumps up to try and reach them.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER V
WE GO CRAZY FROM WANT OF FOOD

While the boys strain to reach the coconuts, Barrie
photographs them, unobserved from behind a tree.

Late afternoon. The boys kneel beside a camp-fire outside
their Marooner's Hut, trying to light it by rubbing sticks
together.

GEORGE
How d'you do it, Mr Barrie?

BARRIE
Oh, it's easy enough once you get the trick of it -

Barrie already holds a stick in his hand, with a match
covertly hidden between his finger and the stick. He kneels
down, takes another stick, then proceeds to amaze George and
Peter by rubbing them together and producing a flame to
ignite the tinder.

JACK
It's a trick!

BARRIE
Did I say otherwise?

George gazes at Barrie in wonder and hero-worship, the
flames of the camp-fire sparkling in his eyes.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER VI:
MARY'S BULLYING WAYS

Barrie photographs the boys dancing round the blazing camp
fire, waving their axes and whooping like savages. He
glances at his watch.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Now then, what are we going to do about Mary
Hodgson? She'll be along any minute for Peter.

JACK
I know, let's dig a trap - like those ones they
use in India for tigers!

The boys set to work at once, digging a pit near the Hut.

GEORGE
(to Jack)
Not too deep, otherwise we'll never get her out.

JACK
Alright, just deep enough so's she falls in and
breaks her legs.

BARRIE
Then you can eat her for breakfast.

JACK
Ugh! She'd taste like an old boot.

PETER
(to Jack)
Stop throwing the earth on my head.

The boys cover over the trap with branches and leaves as
PORTHOS barks in warning at Mary Hodgson's arrival in the
distance.

MARY HODGSON
(calling)
Come on, Peter - time for bed!

GEORGE & JACK
(over-acting)
Come and look at what we've found, Mary! Quickly,
over here ...

Aware that something is afoot, Mary Hodgson humours the boys
by following them along the track.

MARY HODGSON
What is it?

GEORGE
Come and look!

Showing commendable sportsmanship, Mary Hodgson walks
straight into the trap. Her satisfying shriek is followed by
cries of delight from the boys as Barrie photographs her in
the pit.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER VII:
TRAPPED!

INT. BLACK LAKE COTTAGE - VERANDAH. 1901. NIGHT

Barrie sits alone at the table on the verandah, working by
the light of an oil-lamp. He is evidently stuck, as if
pondering a reply to George's question, and doodles with his
pencil on the blank paper before him.

INT. BLACK LAKE COTTAGE - SITTING-ROOM. 1901. NIGHT

Sylvia, Arthur and Mary Barrie sit quietly, reading
newspapers and magazines, the silence broken only by the
rustling of pages and Barrie's cough from the verandah
outside.

Presently the mantelpiece clock chimes midnight. Arthur
looks up, catches Sylvia's eye, signals that he wants to go
to bed. Sylvia nods, resumes her reading a moment, then
gives a polite yawn.

SYLVIA
(glancing at watch)
Oh, look at the time. I hadn't realised it was
that late.
(to Mary Barrie)
Well if you'll excuse me, I think I'll be going to
bed.

ARTHUR
Yes, I think I'll be doing the same.

Arthur gets up, ready to follow Sylvia from the room.

SYLVIA
(to Mary Barrie)
We won't disturb Jimmy - do you think you could
say goodnight for us?

MARY BARRIE
Of course. Sleep well you too.

ARTHUR
(a little stilted)
Good night.

As they leave the room, Arthur puts his arm tenderly around
Sylvia's shoulder. Mary Barrie watches them from the corner
of her eye, but pretends to go on reading. The door closes
softly. She carries on reading a moment, then puts down her
magazine, turns and looks towards the open verandah doors.

INT. BLACK LAKE COTTAGE - VERANDAH. 1901. NIGHT

Barrie still searches for an idea, doodling the while on a
piece of paper. Then something comes to him. He screws up
the page and starts afresh.

BARRIE (V.O.)
"The Little White Bird", Chapter 19.
When George was eight we had ... When David was
eight we..... No, six - When David was six we had
a tremendous adventure together. It was this: He
passed the night with me. We had often talked of
it as a possible thing, and at last his mother
consented to our having it. For a while we played
with my two medals;
then, at twenty-five past six, I placed my hand
carelessly on his shoulder, like one a trifle
bored by the dull routine of putting my boys to
bed, and conducted him to my private chamber.
There was an extra bed in it tonight, very near my
own, and on the mantel piece a tumbler of milk.
David offered me his foot, as if he had no longer
use for it, and I knew by intuition that he
expected me to take off his boots.

While Barrie continues writing, Mary Barrie emerges from the
sitting room onto the verandah. She puts her arm tenderly
around Barrie's shoulders, as Arthur did to Sylvia, but
Barrie makes no response to her. A pause, then she kisses
him on his hair, as of habit, and leaves as silently as she
came.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I took them off with all the coolness of an old
hand, then I placed him on my knee and removed his
blouse. This was a delightful experience, but I
think I remained wonderfully calm until I came
somewhat too suddenly to his wee braces, which
agitated me profoundly. I do not think it wise to
proceed any further with the public disrobing of
David. Soon the night-nursery was in darkness, but
presently I heard a brave little voice squeaking
at me ...

INT. BLACK LAKE COTTAGE - BEDROOM. 1901. NIGHT

Barrie sits on the edge of his bed, half undressed, holding
his notebook in his hand. Instead of writing, he gazes OFF
CAMERA. As his thoughts continue, the CAMERA PULLS slowly
back to reveal the object of his gaze: Mary Barrie, asleep
in her own single bed.

GEORGE
(V.O., sleepily)
Is it going on now?

BARRIE (V.O.)
Is what?

GEORGE (V.O.)
The adventure.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Yes, David.
(pause )
You're not frightened, are you?

GEORGE(V.O.)
Am I not, father?

BARRIE (V.O.)
I don't know.

A pause.

GEORGE (V.O.)
I don't take up very much room.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Why David, do you want to come into my bed?

GEORGE (V.O.)
Mother said I wasn't to want it unless you wanted
it first.

A long pause.

BARRIE
(V.O., softly)
It's what I've been wanting all the time ...

DISSOLVE INTO:

BLACK LAKE. 1901. DAY

Barrie sits with Sylvia on the shore of Black Lake, reading
to her from his manuscript of The Little White Bird -

BARRIE
(brightly)
"It's what I've been wanting all the time," said
I, and then without more ado David flung himself
at me. For the rest of the night he lay next tome
..."
(to Sylvia)
Or "on me and across me"?

SYLVIA
When George sleeps with me, he usually ends up at
the bottom of the bed with his feet on the pillow,
but Jack's much easier -

BARRIE
(interrupting) )
No, no - that's fine.

Barrie alters his manuscript -

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(mumbling)
"Sometimes his feet were at the bottom of the bed,
and sometimes on the pillow.".

SYLVIA
Why are you so fond of George?

BARRIE
Aren't you?

SYLVIA
Of course, but I'm his mother.

BARRIE
I never would have guessed you're not the
mothering type.

SYLVIA
I'm glad to hear it.

BARRIE
You wear your children like a necklace ... and
George is your brightest pearl. He's so
deliciously depraved, so delightfully heartless,
just like his mother.

George, Jack and Peter are playing on the far side of the
lake.

GEORGE
(calling)
Come on, Mr Barrie! Peter's all tied up and ready
to walk the plank. Father doesn't want to be a
pirate, so it's got to be you!

BARRIE
(to Sylvia)
Heigh-ho.

Sylvia smiles, watching Barrie as he gets up and prepares to
do battle with the boys.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER XIII:
THE PIRATE CAPTAIN SWARTHY
CAPTURES PETER.

[Music over] Captain Swarthy, alias Barrie in a pirate's pom
pom, his face blackavized with burnt cork, creeps up on
Peter, who is sitting like a lamb ready for the slaughter in
the punt, bound and gagged, awaiting his fate with a bemused
expression.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(over-acting)
Ah-ha, me little beauty- I've caught you alone at
last!

Barrie prods him with a wooden sword -

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Best prime steak of boy - what more could a
crocodile want?

Suddenly George and Jack spring out from the bushes, armed
with wooden swords.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER XIV:
TIMELY ARRIVAL OF GEORGE AND JACK

George and Jack engage Barrie in a swordfight, while Sylvia
stands behind Barrie's camera mounted on its tripod, ready
to take a photograph.

The ensuing skirmish is also watched by Arthur and Mary
Barrie, who stand on the far side of the lake.

ARTHUR
(causally)
I must say if I were you I'd live here all the
time.

MARY BARRIE
Oh, if it were up to me I would. But Jim gets
restless after a few days and can't wait to get
back to London.

ARTHUR
(watching the wordfight)
He seems quite at home to me.

MARY BARRIE
Ah, but he has the boys.

A pause. In the background, George and Jack overpower Barrie
and bring him to his knees.

ARTHUR
You don't mind, do you? I mean about the boys?

MARY BARRIE
(a nervous laugh)
No, not really. At least they take his mind off
his depressions. I try to help him, but there's
nothing I can do.
(beat)
I've been married to Jim seven years now, and not
once have I even come close to finding the key to
him. And yet they seem to have found it without
even having had to look.
(smiles)
I don't know. Perhaps I try too hard.

Mary Hodgson approaches, wheeling Michael in his pram, and
Mary Barrie discontinues the conversation.

On the far side of the lake, George passes sentence on the
defeated Captain Swarthy.

GEORGE
(to Barrie)
Captain Swarthy, you have been sentenced to walk
the pa-lonk. The sentence will now be...

BARRIE
(protesting)
My dear boy, I...

GEORGE
(interrupting)
Silence! The Great White Father has, spoken.

George and Jack prod Barrie onto the plank, which has been
rigged up over the punt, then George turns round to make
sure Sylvia is ready to take the photograph -

GEORGE (CONT'D)
Mother, have you cocked it?

SYLVIA
Oh, I'm sorry,...

Sylvia cocks the camera's shutter.

BARRIE
(to Sylvia)
Right, are we ready now? I'm not doing this thing
twice.

SYLVIA
Yes, ready.

Barrie turns on the boys, who are prodding him with their
swords.

BARRIE
(over-acting)
Back, back, you pewling spawn! I'll show you now
the road to dusty death!

Barrie walks along the plank.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(dramatically)
fame, fame, thou glittering bauble - farewell!

Barrie hovers on the edge of the plank, looks at the murky
water.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(no longer acting)
On second thoughts, I'm not even doing it once ...

Barrie coughs apologetically, then steps off the plank and
sits in the punt.

GEORGE
Cowardy cowardy custard!

JACK
(furious)
That's not fair ... it's not cricket!

EXT. BLACK LAKE - PATH. 1901. DAY

Arthur and Mary Barrie walk along the path back towards
Black Lake Cottage.

ARTHUR
Did Sylvia mention that we're thinking of moving
from London?

MARY BARRIE
(apprehensively) )
No ... Where to?

ARTHUR
Well nothing's been decided yet - we're still in
two minds about it - but I've got my eye on a
house in Berkhamsted. It's not too far from
London, and there's a good school for the boys.

A pause.

MARY BARRIE
This has nothing to do with Jim, has it?

ARTHUR
Good heavens no. No, no, I've been thinking about
it for a long time, and with the boys growing up I
think it'll be much better for them. Taken all in
all.

EXT. BLACK LAKE. 1901. DAY
CAPTION:
CHAPTER XV:
"AN END TO CAPTAIN SWARTHY AS
WE STRING HIM UP"

[Music over] George, Jack and Peter lynch a stuffed dummy of

Captain Swarthy from a gallows-tree overhanging the lake.
The dummy is made from one of Barrie's old suits, stuffed
with straw, and his old fishing hat.

GEORGE
Let's hope the vultures get him!

The boys celebrate the death of Captain Swarthy with Three
Cheers, endorsed by Sylvia, who stands with Barrie to one
side. Only Barrie remains silent, as if aware of the ironic
significance of his own effigy hanged before him.

DISSOLVE INTO:

Black Lake at twilight, silent, deserted, still.

FADE OUT.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - BARRIE'S STUDY. 1903. DAY

A thin drizzle obscures the Kensington Gardens beyond the
window of Barrie's study.

Barrie sits alone at his desk, sorting through his morning
mail. He spots an envelope in a familiar hand and knowingly
opens it. It is from George, though the sound of his VOICE
OVER indicates that his voice has now broken.

GEORGE (V.O.)
Dear Mr Barrie, How are you, old crock? We are
having a very jolly time, and we wish you were
here, though I've got a shocking cold.
I hope you enjoyed yourself at BLACK LAKE COTTAGE.
Is the new motor-car finished yet? I've put Black
Lake Cottage in capital letters because wherever
you live must be a very capital place. You must
come down soon to Berkhamsted and see us. Our new
baby brother is called Nicholas, but we call him
Nik-o. He is very jolly and squeaks at Michael's
canary. He is also very fat. Mother says I was as
fat as him when I was a baby - I don't think!
Michael has drawn you a picture of a pirate. It is
not very like one.

Barrie pauses to look at the picture.

GEORGE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
How is the play about Peter Pan? Have you-finished
it yet? I hope you haven't spoilt it with any
soppy stuff about girls. From your story-listener,
George Llewelyn Davies. P.S. I expect a letter.

Barrie folds the letter carefully, regretful at having
finished it. He opens a drawer in his desk to add it to a
pile of similar letters, then changes his mind and reopens
the envelope.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
(identical V.O.)
Dear Mr Barrie, How are you, old crock? We are
having a very jolly time, and we wish you were
here...

Barrie breaks off, clutching the letter to him.

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS & SERPENTINE. 1903. DAY

Barrie wanders through Kensington Gardens with PORTHOS,
passing the familiar spots previously enjoyed in the company
of George.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dear George, All hail to the five! I am still
an old crock - not so bad in the daytime, but my
confounded cough is a demon o' nights, and I
wonder you don't hear it in Berkhamsted.
(pause)
You are so right, if I don't see you soon, you
will have outgrown me in body as well as in mind.

Barrie sits on a bench by the Serpentine, watching some boys
sailing their stick-boats in the water.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Sometimes when I'm walking in the Kensington
Gardens I see a vision, and I cry Hooray! There's
George! And then Porthos barks joyously and we run
to the vision, and then it turns out not to be
George but just another boy, and I cry like a
watercart, and Porthos hangs his sorrowful tail.

Barrie walks with PORTHOS along the Broad Walk near the old
oak tree.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
As for the play about Peter, methinketh it no
great shakes, but it awaits your inspection
nonetheless. I fear the odd girl or two has crept
in while I had my back turned, but I assure you
that she will meet with a cruel fate - unless the
devil in Peter steers my pen on a wayward course.
I shall be showing it to Mr Frohman next month, so
wish me luck. Your humble servant, J.M.B. P.S.
Dear George, I am very fond of you, but don't tell
anybody.

Barrie looks round for PORTHOS, who is snuffling at the
rabbit hole where George once found the Pan pipes.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Come on, old boy. Come on. No, you won't find
anything there.

PORTHOS pads reluctantly back to Barrie, and the two set off
for home, the CAMERA holding them in LONG SHOT as they walk
away across the Gardens.

SYLVIA (V.O.)
My dear Jimmy,

Poor darling Porthos - it's like having lost one of the
family. George and Jack were heart-broken at the news, but
Peter and Michael are very jealous as they think he's gone
to the Never Never Land to live with Peter Pan. ...

INT. SAVOY GRILL - FROHMAN'S CORNER. 1904. DAY

Barrie's American producer, CHARLES Frohman, sits at his
regular corner table in the Savoy Hotel's Grill Room,
reading a manuscript entitled "The Great White Father".

Frohman, known to some as "the Beaming Buddha of Broadway",
is, at 44, the most successful theatrical manager of the
day. "This Niagara of a man", wrote Barrie of him later,
"was like a force of Nature: they could have lit a city with
him.
Because we were the two shyest men in the world, we got on
so well and understood each other so perfectly." This
shyness, like Barrie's, is often concealed beneath a veneer
of extroversion, and his balding head, Jewish nose,
corpulent body, and thick lips permanently astride a cigar
place him in further danger of being portrayed as a
caricature of the archetypal impresario he undoubtedly was.

While Frohman waits for Barrie, Sylvia's VOICE-OVER
continues from the previous scene -

SYLVIA (V.O.)
All the boys are keeping their fingers crossed for
your meeting with Mr Frohman, except for my doodle
Nico, who prefers to cross his toes. But as Mr
Frohman is such a boy after your own heart, I'm
sure he will love the play.

Barrie comes into the Grill Room, dressed in his huge
overcoat and a muffler wound about his neck - a somewhat
incongruous spectacle in the present setting. He stands
behind Frohman a moment, reading over his shoulder, then
coughs loudly.

FROHMAN
(expansively)
Jimmy! How good to see you again

Barrie sits down, putting another manuscript on the table
beside him.

FROHMAN (CONT'D)
Sorry I haven't been able to see you earlier, but
I've had constant meetings ever since I arrived.
How've you been keeping?

BARRIE
Oh, pretty much my usual self - though I wish I
were a lot of other people. I've been a bit under
the weather lately with some ailment that only
sheep seem to have had before. Mind you, I've
always been haunted by the sneaking suspicion that
I am a sheep.

The HEAD WAITER comes over.

FROHMAN
What'll you have?

BARRIE
(to the waiter)
Oh, whisky and soda please, Edward -
(to Frohman)
"Know thyself", as Descartes used to say.

Frohman laughs, produces a cable from his breast-pocket.

FROHMAN
Well here's a tonic that might cheer you up. Just
came in from New York. You've broken your own
record, Jimmy: Opening week for Crichton 18% up on
Quality Street, up on Little Minister.
Congratulations.

Barrie nods without enthusiasm. He points to the manuscript
Frohman has been reading.

BARRIE
Well yes, but I showed him the script ... it had a
most unfortunate effect on him.

FROHMAN
Really? What happened?

BARRIE
(dourly)
He died. Listen, if you'll put it on, I'll give
you this other play for nothing to cover your
losses - "Alice Sit-by-the-Fire"...

Barrie indicates the second manuscript, but Frohman
interrupts him.

FROHMAN
Jimmy, Jimmy ... if I like a play, I'll put it on.
If you like a play, I'll put it on whether I like
it or not. But why are you so anxious to see it
produced?

Barrie shrugs.

BARRIE
I don't know, Charles. It's just become a sort of
dream child of mine, that's all I know. I didn't
plan it, it just wrote itself.
(pause)
Oh, you don't like it, I can tell.

Frohman maintains his business-like approach a moment
longer, then presses the manuscript to his chest, patting it
with delight.

FROHMAN
(the Beaming Buddha)
Sheer madness!
(beat)
Of course we couldn't use real children, I mean
Peter will have to be played by a girl -

BARRIE
No, no - I don't want it turned into a pantomime.

FROHMAN
Jimmy, if I thought it was a pantomime, I wouldn't
be interested. Don't forget, we Americans don't
understand English pantomimes. No, they're your
laws, not ours, and the law here is that no child
under twelve can act on a public stage after 9pm.
Besides, having a girl play Peter might give the
show an extra little - utz?

BARRIE
(a knowing smile)
You mean 'utz' Maude Adams?

FROHMAN
(nodding)
I'm thinking Broadway, not just London.
(pause)
Oh, there is one thing I don't like. This title,
"The Great White Father". Can't we just call it
"Peter Pan"?

BARRIE
Yes, fine. "Peter Pan ...
(musing)
... Or the Boy Who Couldn't Grow Up".

FROHMAN
Couldn't? Or Wouldn't?

BARRIE
(shrugging)
Don't ask me, I'm only the author.

FROHMAN
Yes, but isn't it the point that Peter doesn't
want to grow up, not that he can't? Why that's
what's so appealing about him.

BARRIE
(smiling)
Alright, wouldn't.

Frohman crosses out "The Great White Father" and substitutes
"Peter Pan, or the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up" on the front of
the manuscript.

FROHMAN
(while writing)
And how's Mary keeping these days?

The HEAD WAITER brings Barrie's whisky.

BARRIE
(abstractly)
Oh, she jogs along -
(to waiter)
Thank you, Edward -
(to Frohman)
But she rather misses Porthos. He was my wedding
present to her.
(sighs to himself)
But heigh-ho, thus wags the world.
(raises glass)
Well ... here's how.

Barrie and Frohman toast each other, then set down to the
business of going through the script together. The remainder
of Sylvia's letter LAPS OVER their conversation -

SYLVIA (V.O.)
George is going to his new school next week, so
you will think of me when I have to cut his curls.
How he's longing and longing for the moment. My
Michael grows more beautiful every day, which will
delight you, I know. He also has appalling dreams,
which will please you even more.
(pause)
Oh Jimmy, we must surely be the happiest family in
the world!

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1904. NIGHT

Barrie paces about his study, evidently nervous at the
prospect of his forthcoming ordeal. Both he and Mary Barrie
are in evening dress, ready to leave.

The only sign of Porthos is a large painting of him, hanging
above the fireplace. He has been replaced by a huge shaggy
Newfoundland dog, LUATH, who lies by the fire.

BARRIE
(glancing at his fob)
What on earth can have happened to them?

MARY BARRIE
(calmly)
Oh, I expect they've been held up in the traffic.

BARRIE
I can see it's going to be a night of disasters, I
can feel it already. "If you believe in fairies,
clap your hands" ... Poor Nina, they'll laugh her
off the stage. Oh, I must have been half witted to
think I could pull it off. It's not even the play
I set out to write.

MARY BARRIE
(laughing)
It never is, dear.

BARRIE
If only I'd had the...

Barrie breaks off at the sound of voices outside.

MARY BARRIE
That'll be them.

Mary Barrie goes to the door as GEORGE bursts in ahead of
the others. He is dressed up for the occasion, his hair cut
short and brushed flat with a parting. Barrie registers a
look of shocked realisation at the stranger before him.

BARRIE
(disbelieving)
George ...?

GEORGE
Hello, old crock - sorry we're a bit late.
(preening himself)
How am I looking? Rather a knut, don't you think?

BARRIE
Yes, yes - quite the coming chap. I shall have to
look to my laurels...

Sylvia has entered the room, followed by PETER, now aged
eight, and Michael, last seen as a baby, but now nearly
five. He is stunningly beautiful, with long blond curls and
haunting eyes. Unlike George's boyish brightness at the same
age, Michael has an almost tragic wistfulness that reflects
"the poet in him, there since birth."

Barrie's disappointment on seeing George is replaced by
captivation at the sight of Michael.

BARRIE
(to Sylvia)
Is this really Michael?

MICHAEL
Of course I'm really Michael. Did you escape too?

BARRIE
Escape?

MICHAEL
When we were being chased by that man.

Barrie looks at Sylvia in bewilderment.

SYLVIA
(smiling)
I warned you, Michael's dreams are as wayward as
your own.

BARRIE
Ah, but of course -
(to Michael)
You mean the man that looked like ... like this.

Barrie pulls a hideous face, which makes George and Peter
roar with laughter. But Michael remains unmoved, gazing up
at Barrie with an enigmatic expression, almost reminiscent
of Barrie's dead brother David.

A pause; Barrie glances round at the others.

BARRIE
But - but where's Jack - and Arthur?

SYLVIA
I'm afraid Arthur's got another of his toothaches -
it's rather a bad one, I'm afraid, and ... well,
he didn't want to spoil the evening, and Jack
decided to stay with him.

GEORGE
(whistling)
Ho, hum!

SYLVIA
No, no - really. He was so disappointed, but his
jaw's been giving him rather a lot of pain lately,
and.....

BARRIE
(only half believing)
Yes, oh I'm sure. Well I, er -
(turning to the boys)
Boys, I don't want to make a speech or anything,
but I - well I just want you to know that if the
play's a failure, the fault is entirely yours.

GEORGE
(indignantly)
Why us?

BARRIE
Because. Because you're the real authors, it had
nothing to do with me. All I did was rub the five
of you violently together to make a flame. That's
all Peter is ...
(a crack in his voice)
Just the spark I got from you.

Barrie coughs to disguise his emotion.

GEORGE
I had nothing to do with Wendy!

Mary Barrie laughs loudly.

BARRIE
No, I admit she's a spark from an entirely
different quarter, for which I offer my humble
apologies.

MARY BARRIE
(to Sylvia)
He'll wallow on for hours if we give him the
chance.
(to Barrie)
Come along, Jim the executioner awaits.

George and Peter lead the way out, followed by Sylvia and
Mary Barrie. Michael and Barrie stay behind a moment.

MARY BARRIE
(O.S., to Sylvia)
I'm so sorry about Arthur ... it's nothing
serious, I hope?

SYLVIA
(O.S., barely audible)
Well we don't really know. He's seeing a
specialist about it next month, but I - well I
don't suppose it's anything too serious ... just
rather a nuisance, that's all.

A pause, then Michael holds out his hand to Barrie, who
obliges him by putting his top hat on the boy's head.
Michael takes him by the hand and leads him from the room.
As he does so, a voice LAPS OVER -

WENDY
(V.O., from stage)
... and pen cannot describe the happy scene over
which we now draw a veil.

A pause, then the SOUND of a boy moaning in pain.

WENDY
( V.O., cont'd)
What is it, Peter? Where's the pain?

PETER PAN
( V.O., from stage)
It isn't that kind of pain, Wendy.

INT. DUKE OF YORK'S THEATRE - BOX. 1904. NIGHT

Barrie stands at the back of the Royal Box, watching the
first performance of "Peter Pan" with impassive
apprehension. Seated in front of him are George, Michael,
Sylvia, Peter and Mary Barrie.

PETER PAN
(O.S., from stage)
Wendy, you're wrong about mothers. I thought like
you that the nursery window would always be open,
so I stayed away for moons and moons, and then I
flew back home, but the window was barred. My
mother had forgotten all about me, and there was
another little boy sleeping in my bed.

CAMERA moves in slowly on Mary Barrie's reaction.

WENDY (O.S.)
Peter, what are your exact feelings for me?

PETER PAN (O.S.)
Those of a devoted son, Wendy.

WENDY (O.S.)
I thought so.

PETER PAN (O.S.)
What is it you want me to be?

WENDY (O.S.)
It's not for a lady to tell.

INT. EGERTON HOUSE - NIGHT NURSERY. 1904. NIGHT

Arthur sits by a cradle in the night-nursery of the family's
Berkhampsted home, Egerton House.
He appears to be in some pain, touching his cheek
occasionally while watching his fifth son, NICO, asleep in
the cradle.

Presently the door opens and Mary Hodgson enters.

MARY HODGSON
Excuse me, Mr Arthur, but it's time for Nico's
feed.

Mary Hodgson goes to the cradle -

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
Would you care for something too?

ARTHUR
No thank you, Mary.

Mary Hodgson lifts Nico from his cradle.

MARY HODGSON
(cautiously)
I don't, er - wish to speak out of turn, but I do
understand how you feel.

ARTHUR
Do you, Mary?

MARY HODGSON
I think so... I mean it must be very hard for you
at times.

ARTHUR
One grins and bears it.

MARY HODGSON
It can't be easy for Mrs Barrie either.

Arthur hesitates.

ARTHUR
I was referring to the toothache.

MARY HODGSON
Yes of course. I'm... I'm sorry if I spoke out of
turn.

Mary Hodgson leaves the room with Nico. CAMERA HOLDS on
Arthur as he turns and stares blankly at the empty cradle.

WENDY
(V.O., from stage)
What's wrong, Peter?

PETER PAN
(V.O., from stage)
It is only pretend, isn't it, Wendy?

WENDY (V.O.)
Is what pretend?

PETER PAN (V.O.)
That I am their father?

CLOSE SHOT: Barrie, standing at the back of the Royal Box.

WENDY
(O.S., from stage)
But they're our children, Peter - yours and mine.

PETER PAN (O.S.)
Yes, but not really.

WENDY (O.S.)
Not if you don't wish it.

PETER PAN (O.S.)
I don't.

MIX TO:

SHOOTING from the back of the stage towards the audience,
Peter Pan (played by Nina Boucicault) lies on his back in
foreground, fast asleep. From this angle, back-lit against
the footlights, he is reminiscent of George at Black Lake,
lying on the hillside, one leg arched, his head resting on
his arm.

The spotlight representing Tinkerbell suddenly flashes into
CAMERA from the back of the theatre, then dances over Peter
Pan's face, awakening him.

PETER PAN
Who's that?

The Orchestra responds with a tinkling sound on the
triangles.

PETER PAN
Oh, Tinkerbell...
(tinkles)
What's that?
(tinkles)
The Redskins were defeated? Wendy and the Lost
Boys captured? I'll rescue them, I'll rescue them!

Peter Pan leaps for his dagger, then runs to his grindstone
to sharpen it. Tinkerbell alights near a bottle of medicine
on a table and tinkles out a warning.

PETER PAN
Oh, that's just my medicine.
(tinkles)
Poison? Who could have poisoned it? I promised
Wendy I'd take it, and take it I will as soon as
I've sharpened up my dagger.

In the Royal Box, Michael leans anxiously forward, totally
absorbed by the play. Peter, however, seems rather bored,
and amuses himself by slowly tearing up the programme and
dropping the bits over the edge of the box onto the audience
below.

PETER PAN
(O.S., from stage)
Why Tink, you've drunk my medicine!
(tinkles)
It was poisoned and you drank it to save my life?
By why, Tink? I don't mind dying. Oh, Tink, dear
Tink, please don't die ...

Michael turns to George -

MICHAEL
(whispering)
What's the matter?

GEORGE
She's dying.

MICHAEL
But why?
(to Sylvia)
Why's she dying?

SYLVIA
(whispering)
Listen and you'll find out.

Barrie grows visibly apprehensive as Peter Pan turns to the
audience to make her plea -

PETER PAN
Her light is growing faint, and if it goes out,
that means she's dead. Her voice is so low I can
scarcely tell what she's saying.
(weak tinkles)
She says ...
she says she thinks she might get well again if
children believed in fairies. Well do you believe
in fairies?

Total silence from the audience. Barrie closes his eyes.

PETER PAN
Oh, say quick that you believe! Don't let poor
Tinkerbell die! If you believe, clap your hands.

George raises his eyebrows.

PETER PAN
(urgently)
Come on, clap your hands.. if you believe!

Another long silence. Then Michael begins to clap his hands,
very slowly, but with steady conviction.

PETER PAN
That's it ... louder, louder!

Peter and George join in, followed by Sylvia, Mary Barrie,
and others in the audience.

PETER PAN
Oh, you do believe, you do!

Barrie gradually opens his eyes as the belief spreads
throughout the house, the clapping growing louder and
louder.

PETER PAN
Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! And now - to
rescue Wendy!

Peter Pan runs from the stage to a standing ovation of
cheering, whistling and applause from the audience.

SHARP CUT TO:

INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR. 1905. DAY

The level of SOUND from the previous scene suddenly CUTS
OUT, to be replaced by the chill silence of a bleak hospital
corridor.

Barrie and Sylvia stand outside the door of one of the
private rooms. Presently the door opens and a doctor,
RENDEL, steps out.

DR RENDEL
(to Sylvia)
You can come in now, Mrs Davies, but only for a
moment.

BARRIE
(to Sylvia)
Would you rather I waited outside?

DR RENDEL
I think it would be better, if you don't mind.

Rendel opens the door and Sylvia goes inside.

INT. HOSPITAL - ARTHUR'S ROOM. 1905. DAY

Sylvia enters the room, then stops and stares ahead of her.
Only the back of Arthur's head is visible to the CAMERA, but
from Sylvia's expression it is clear that he is much
disfigured. There is a brief look of shock on her face, then
she braces herself and moves slowly towards him, followed by
Rendel at a discreet distance.

SYLVIA
(a whisper)
Oh my darling ... please don't cry.

DR RENDEL
I'm afraid he can't help it, Mrs Davies.
Regrettably his tear-ducts have had to be removed.

A pause. Sylvia leans forward, wipes the tears away from
Arthur's face with her handkerchief, then kisses him on the
forehead. Still we cannot see Arthur's face - only the look
of agony in Sylvia's eyes.

INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR. 1905. DAY

Barrie stands alone in the corridor. The door opens and
Rendel leaves the room, ushering Barrie to one side.

DR RENDEL
I'm afraid that the growth had spread somewhat
further than we originally diagnosed, and we've
therefore had to remove most of the upper jaw as
well as the palate. I fear that as a result Mr
Davies will be unable to talk again. Of course
there's always the possibility of fitting some
sort of artificial jaw, but - well, to be quite
frank, the results are hardly worth the expense.

BARRIE
(sharply)
I'm not interested in expense. I want Mr Davies to
have the finest medical treatment available,
whatever the cost.

DR RENDEL
I see. Well if ...

Rendel breaks off as Sylvia emerges from the room. She gazes
at Barrie with a look of bewildered incomprehension,
oblivious to Rendel, who returns to Arthur's room.

A long pause, then Sylvia slowly shakes her head.

SYLVIA
(a whisper)
They've... they've ruined my darling's face.
They've ...

Sylvia lets out a sudden cry of anguish, clutching at Barrie
and sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder.

CAMERA HOLDS them in LONG SHOT, clinging to each other,
alone in the bleak white corridor.

SLOW FADE OUT.

[END OF PART ONE]