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April 1978

"The Lost Boys" script by Andrew Birkin.




The Lost Boys

Script by

Andrew Birkin

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

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

Jaimie sits huddled at the foot of a narrow staircase, 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?

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 beat, 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.

TITLE:
KENSINGTON GARDENS, LONDON, 1897

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.

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

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 suit
cases 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
characteristic flamboyance. As a former provincial actress of
average 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
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
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 thingamajig.

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 choco
late, 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 notebook 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.

Mary 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
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,
à 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 grizzly
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 porch, 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 originals.
CAPTION:
CHAPTER I:
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 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?

George, Jack and Peter prowl through the "haunted groves of
Black Lake", distant flecks of red and white 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
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.

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
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, and the boys are kneeling 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 she
falls in and breaks her legs.

BARRIE
Then you can eat her for breakfast.

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

The boys cover over the trap with branches and leaves as
PORTHOS barks in warning at Mary'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 -
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 stumped, 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.

Presently a 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 - would say
goodnight for us?

MARY BARRIE
Of course. Goodnight, sleep well.

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, 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 mantelpiece 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 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, 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. 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 to me ..."
(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 am 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 play 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.

Captain Swarthy, alias Barrie in a pirate's pom-pom, his face
blackavized with burnt cork, creeps up on Peter, who sits
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 swordfight)
He seems quite at home to me.

MARY BARRIE
Ah, but he has the boys.

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
No, not really. At least they take
his mind off his depressions. I try
to help him, but there's nothing I
can do. 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, 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)
O 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
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.

Mary looks apprehensive.

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

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 opens it.
It is from George, though the sound of his VOICE indicates
that it 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 familiar spots previously enjoyed with 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. 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 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 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 enters 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 9 p.m. 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 (CONT'D)
(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 (CONT'D)
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 (CONT'D)
(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
(O.S., 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 (O.S.) (CONT'D)
What is it, Peter? Where's the
pain?

PETER PAN (O.S.)
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
Berkhamsted 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 (CONT'D)
Who's that?

The Orchestra responds with a tinkling sound on the
triangles.

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

George raises his eyebrows.

PETER PAN (CONT'D)
(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 (CONT'D)
That's it ... louder, louder!

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

PETER PAN (CONT'D)
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 (CONT'D)
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
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.

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

Sylvia clutches at Barrie, sobbing on his shoulder.

CAMERA HOLDS them in LONG SHOT, clinging to one another,
alone in the bleak white corridor.

SLOW FADE OUT

[END OF PART ONE]

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS. 1906. DAY

[MAIN TITLES appear over a series of dawn images of
Kensington Gardens, as at the beginning of Part One.]

Barrie wanders along the edge of the Serpentine, jotting down
ideas in his notebook.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Peter Pan. New scene at end of
play. Years later, Peter flies back
to the nursery, still a boy - heart
broken to find Wendy grown old.
Peter really the ghost of a boy who
dies in childhood, à la David,
comes back to search for his
mother, finds her an old woman,
doesn't recognise her.

Barrie pauses by the oak tree where he first met George in
1897. He looks at the gnarled roots, an idea coming to mind.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
A statue of Peter Pan? Could
immortalise him for generations,
long after play buried and
forgotten.
(pause)
If I paid for it, could this be
deducted from tax?

Barrie ponders a moment, then puts his notebook in his pocket
and wanders off towards the Bayswater Road.

INT. EGERTON HOUSE - NIGHT NURSERY. 1906. DAY

The night nursery is in semi-darkness, lightening as Mary
Hodgson moves from window to window, letting up the blinds.
In foreground, Michael - now aged six - lies asleep in bed.

MARY HODGSON
Michael ..

Michael sleeps on, one arm drooped over the edge of the bed',
the other curled about his head.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
Come along, Michael ...

She gives him a little shake, and Michael stirs.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
Come on, wake up - the doctor'll be
here any minute, so we must get you
washed and scrubbed.

Michael opens his eyes. He is suffering from scarlet fever,
and his face is as pale as alabaster. Mary Hodgson takes a
thermometer from her pocket.

MICHAEL
(sleepily)
I had such a funny dream, Mary. I
dreamt I saw father's ghost in the
garden, but that wasn't the funny
thing, the funny thing was he
wasn't a ghost at all -

MARY HODGSON
I should hope not.

MICHAEL
No, I mean he was real and I was
the ghost, because when he came to
touch me he went right through me
and fell in a river, and I couldn't
swim so I...

MARY HODGSON
(brandishing thermometer)
Open wide -

Michael's account is curtailed by the thermometer being put
in his mouth. Mary Hodgson sits on the edge of the bed, takes
two letters from her pocket while holding Michael's pulse.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
You and your dreams ... I wonder
you know half the time whether
you're awake or asleep.

MICHAEL
(eyeing letters)
Are they for me?

MARY HODGSON
No talking and I'll read them to
you.

Mary Hodgson puts the second letter down on the bed, opens
the first.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
(brightening)
Ah, it's from your father. "Dear
Michael, I do hope the scarlet
fever has fled and that you will
soon be up and well again. I wonder
if your doctor is as kind and as
good as mine? I have three pretty
nurses Hodgson, who is worth all of
mine put together.
I have been in hospital so long now
that it almost seems like home. ...

While Mary Hodgson continues reading, Michael eyes the second
letter, addressed to "Michael Esquire, Esq., Egerton House,
to look after me, but you have dear Mary Berkhamsted." He
edges a furtive hand towards it without Mary seeing him.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
Mr Barrie manages to come and see
me almost every single day. He is
sitting with me now, reading a
newspaper. Don't you think Mr
Barrie is a very good friend to us
all? ...

Mary Hodgson's tone becomes somewhat frosty at the mention of
Barrie, but Michael isn't listening: having opened the second
envelope, he tries to decipher the letter, written in looking-
glass writing.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
Now good-bye, my dear boy, and see
you very soon. From your
affectionate father."
(folds letter)
There now, wasn't that a nice
letter? You must write back as soon
as ... Oh, Michael! You haven't
been listening to a word!

MICHAEL
(thermometer in mouth)
Yes I have. Will you read me this
one?

MARY HODGSON
I said no talking.

MICHAEL
It is from Uncle Jim.

Mary Hodgson picks up the letter, ignoring Michael's tease.

MARY HODGSON
So I see.

She takes a hand-mirror from the bedside table, angles the
letter into it.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
(reading frostily)
Dearest beloved Michael,
The Rose is red,
The violet blue,
Honey is sweet
And so are you.
J. M. Barrie.

Mary Hodgson folds the letter without comment, takes the
thermometer from Michael's mouth.

MICHAEL
Is it normal?

MARY HODGSON
(reading thermometer)
No. Now take off your nightshirt.

Mary Hodgson goes to the wash-stand, fills a basin from a
pitcher of water. She glances back at Michael, who is
surreptitiously re-reading Barrie's letter.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
I said take off your nightshirt.

MICHAEL
Why do I have such bad dreams,
Mary?

MARY HODGSON
I don't know to be sure. I've never
had a bad dream in my life, except
when I've had to do your mending.

Mary Hodgson returns to the bed, carrying the basin of water.

MICHAEL
(baiting her)
Uncle Jim has nightmares.

MARY HODGSON
I dare say he does - and I
shouldn't wonder if he's not to
blame for some of yours too.

MICHAEL
Why?

Mary Hodgson helps Michael off with his nightshirt.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
(persisting)
Why, Mary?

MARY HODGSON
Why ask me? You know him far better
than I do. Oh, just look at the
state of your neck! And to think I
only washed it a few hours ago.

MICHAEL
Can I write back to him?

MARY HODGSON
You shall write to your father
first. After that you can write to
whomever you like.

Mary Hodgson leans Michael's head forward, starts to scrub
his neck.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - BARRIE'S STUDY. 1906. DAY

Mary Barrie sits beside CHARLES Frohman, showing him a
presentation copy of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. A tea
tray is on the table beside them; on the sofa is a silver
framed mirror in its wrapping paper, evidently a gift.

MARY BARRIE
It's only the Peter Pan chapters
reprinted from "The Little White
Bird", but I think Arthur Rackham's
illustrations are rather fine,
don't you?

FROHMAN
Oh, superb. When do I get my copy?

MARY BARRIE
You'll have to wait until Christmas
... this is an advance copy from
the publishers - it only arrived
this morning.

FROHMAN
For your wedding anniversary? What
a kind thought of Jimmy's.

An awkward pause.

MARY BARRIE
Yes. Yes, wasn't it. But then Jim's
always known how to spoil me.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - PASSAGE OUTSIDE STUDY. 1906. DAY

Barrie arrives back from a walk in the park with LUATH. He
hangs up his coat and hat, brightening as he recognises
Frohman's voice emanating from the study.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1906. DAY

Barrie enters the room as Frohman talks to Mary Barrie.
Without interrupting, he goes over to MARY, kisses her on the
cheek, as of habit, then salutes Frohman in Napoleonic style.

FROHMAN
(to Mary Barrie)
...
we opened "Napoleon and Josephine"
in Omaha on a Monday and I called
it a tragedy. On Tuesday I called
it a comedy. On Wednesday I called
it off.
(Mary laughs)
Moral of the story: there's no such
thing as bad towns, only bad plays
... isn't that right, Jimmy?

BARRIE
First rule of the American Theater:
an audience is never wrong.
(to Frohman)
You remember when you put on "Romeo
and Juliet" in the Bronx, they
cried out for the author?
(to Mary Barrie)
Not wishing to disappoint so
discerning an audience, Charles -
in his modesty - stepped forward
and took the bow.

FROHMAN
Whereupon they showered me with
rotten matzo-balls.

Mary Barrie roars with laughter.

MARY BARRIE
(in an effort to compete)
Oh, I know! I remember once when I
was an actress I was playing
Rosalind in
"As You Like It", and the actor
playing Touchstone...

Barrie interrupts his wife's anecdote with a violent spasm of
coughing, followed by a pause.

FROHMAN
(to Mary Barrie)
Yes, and?

MARY BARRIE
Oh it doesn't matter. Wasn't a very
good story anyway.
(to Barrie)
Look what Charles brought us for
our Wedding Anniversary - isn't it
sweet of him?

Mary Barrie passes Barrie the silver-framed mirror.

FROHMAN
(to Barrie)
They tell me that twelve years is
meant to be Silk and Fine Linen,
but I see you've broken the rules
too. I trust you've dedicated the
opus to her?

BARRIE
Opus?

FROHMAN
"Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens".

Mary Barrie hurriedly picks up the Presentation Copy.

MARY BARRIE
I was showing Charles the book
before you arrived.

Barrie takes the book rather aggressively from MARY.

BARRIE
Oh, yes. It's... the illustrations
are rather fine, don't you think? A
cut above the text anyway.

Another awkward pause. Frohman senses the atmosphere.

FROHMAN
Well I, er - I'd better be getting
back to rehearsals ... before my
cast start re-writing your lines.

Frohman overlaps thank-yous and farewells to Mary Barrie
while Barrie talks -

BARRIE
Oh, it wouldn't surprise me if they
did. Actors always presume to know
their parts better than the author
who conceived them. The fact that
Shakespeare was an actor always
seems to me the strongest argument
in favour of Bacon having written
the plays.

CAMERA remains on Mary Barrie as Barrie conducts Frohman from
the room. She picks up the copy of Peter Pan in Kensington
Gardens, flicks abstractedly through the pages.

FROHMAN
(O.S., to Barrie)
You know you may be right. I got a
cable this morning from New York
about "Quality Street".
Apparently old Mildred Morris is
demanding that her name go above
the title with Maude Adams. I ask
you, how does one deal with such
prima-donnerism?

BARRIE
(O.S., barely audible)
Simple. Give her what she wants.
"Charles Frohman presents Maude
Adams but Mildred Morris in James
M. Barrie's 'Quality Street'."
(Frohman laughs, O.S.)
See you at Friday's rehearsal.

Mary Barrie looks a trifle bitterly at the Dedication printed
at the front of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. A pause,
then Barrie returns to the room. Mary Barrie replaces the
book on the table, dusting it unnecessarily.

MARY BARRIE
I trust I haven't left any dirty
fingermarks.

BARRIE
I'm sorry, Mary, it's just that I -
I'll get you your present tomorrow.

MARY BARRIE
(mildly)
I shouldn't bother yourself.

BARRIE
I just completely forgot.

MARY BARRIE
You always do - but no matter.

Barrie tries to put a reconciling arm around her, kisses her
on the cheek despite her effort to evade him.

BARRIE
Anyway, thank you for not... you
know.

MARY BARRIE
There's nothing to thank me for. I
did it for my sake, not yours.

Mary Barrie picks up Frohman's present and the wrapping
paper, goes to the door.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
I'll be leaving early for Black
Lake tomorrow, so I probably won't
see you before Monday.
I've left all the household
instructions with Mrs Benson.

BARRIE
(returning to his desk)
Fine, fine.

Mary Barrie hovers in the doorway.

MARY BARRIE
Oh, there is one small thing you
can do for me - I mean if you
really want to give me a present.

BARRIE
Yes?

MARY BARRIE
The way you kissed me just then.
The way you always kiss me. I'd be
so grateful if you never did it
again.

MARY exits, leaving Barrie alone. He stands at his desk a
moment, preoccupied, fingering bits of paper, then sits down.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - PASSAGE OUTSIDE STUDY. 1906. DAY

Mary Barrie stands outside the door, her hands trembling as
she clutches the silver-framed mirror, the tears welling up
in her eyes despite her efforts to conceal her feelings.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1906. DAY 53.

Barrie sits at his desk, pondering over a blank sheet of
paper.

BARRIE (V.O.)
It's been my fault since the
beginning, you should have married
a better man than me. But can't we
make a fresh start? Try and pick up
the pieces?
(pause)
She says no. Love is not a broken
jug but spilt wine, you can't pick
up that. Too late to talk of love,
she no longer wants it. Her
revulsion when he touches her, etc,
but still keeps up the pretence in
front of others. Not for his sake,
but a woman's vanity.

Barrie begins to write, the emotion in his voice gradually
fading as a storyline begins to materialise.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
In Act one, audience might think
she is to be a sweet, long
suffering wife. Husband also thinks
he can do without her - his success
all his own making. Not until Act
Three, when she leaves him, does he
realise truth: that behind every
man stands a woman in the shadows -
wife, mother, etc. Every woman
knows this, but a man must learn it
by experience.

INT. NURSING HOME - ARTHUR'S ROOM. 1906. DAY

Sylvia sits by Arthur's bedside, reading him a letter written
in a childish hand. Arthur's face is still partially bandaged
from is latest operation, and he now wears a brown patch over
one eye. Three other visitors are also in the room: EMMA DU
MAURIER (Sylvia's ageing mother), CROMPTON LLEWELYN DAVIES
(Arthur's younger brother), and Jack, now aged 12, who is
making a model boat.

SYLVIA
(reading letter)
I am quite well thank you but Mary
says I am not and she says I must
stay in bed for another week and I
have got an acorn and Mr Barrie has
got a cold and he has sent me
another poem ...

While Sylvia continues reading, Barrie enters the room with
George (now aged 13). Since everyone knows one another, and
hospital visits have become a routine, there ere no
introductions, merely nods of the heed.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
... and I am very lonely and I wish
I was in hospital with you and
please come home before I am grown
too old end now I must write to Mr
Barrie from Michael.
(folds letter)
Hello Jimmy, we've just been
hearing all about you from our
Berkhamsted correspondent.

EMMA DU MAURIER
Poor Michael, he must be so lonely
down there et Egerton House all on
his own. Don't you think you ought
to go and spend a night there,
Sylvia dear? After all, a mother's
place is with her children.

SYLVIA
(briskly)
I know that, Mummy - and a wife's
place is with her husband, and I
intend staying here with Arthur.

Sylvia beckons to George, who is carrying e parcel.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
George -
(to Barrie)
Oh Jimmy, I'm afraid as Michael
isn't any better, I don't think
he'll be able to come to London for
Peter Pan this year. He's
dreadfully disappointed, but the
doctor wants him to stay indoors
for at least another month.
(to George)
George, darling -

Sylvia points George to his father's bedside - a duty he
clearly finds awkward. Crompton end Jack are sitting either
side of the bed.

GEORGE
(stilted)
Hello, father ... Hello, Uncle
Crompton.
(to Arthur)
Are you feeling any better?

Arthur's reply is incomprehensible, and he resorts to writing
his answer on a note-pad.

CROMPTON
(to George)
The new operation on the palate has
helped the pain, but he won't be
able to speak properly until the
artificial jaw's been fitted.

GEORGE
(blankly)
Oh.

Arthur continues writing, and Crompton reads the note aloud
to George -

CROMPTON
He wants to know how ... you're
getting on with ... ah, your
scholarship for Eton.

Jack chuckles.

GEORGE
Er, well I'm swatting like a fifth
wrangler, but I'm not very hopeful.
(to Arthur)
Here's a present for you -

George hands Arthur the parcel in order to change the
subject. In the background, Barrie gets ready to leave.

BARRIE
(to Sylvia)
Tell Arthur I'll be in to sit with
him tonight.

SYLVIA
You're sure it's no trouble?

BARRIE
You know it isn't.
(to Emma du Maurier)
Goodbye, Mrs Du Maurier -

INT. NURSING HOME - CORRIDOR OUTSIDE ROOM. 1906. DAY

As Barrie leaves the room, a thought occurs to him. He
beckons to Sylvia -

BARRIE
By the bye, how big is the nursery
at Egerton House?

SYLVIA
I haven't the faintest idea. Why?

BARRIE
I mean roughly?

SYLVIA
Oh I don't know - I suppose about
the same size as your study at
Leinster Corner. Why?

BARRIE
Oh, just a passing thought.
(smiles)
It's passed. See you later.

INT. NURSING HOME - ARTHUR'S ROOM. 1906. DAY

Sylvia returns to the room to find Arthur unpacking the
parcel given to him by George. It contains the presentation
copy of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens admired by Frohman.

SYLVIA
What is it?

GEORGE
It's from ... well it's meant to be
from me, but really it's from Uncle
Jim. It's a special copy before you
can get it in the shops.

SYLVIA
Oh, it's beautiful -

GEORGE
I don't think so - he's cut out all
the best bits.

Arthur glances through the illustrations, flicking backwards
through the book towards the printed dedication.

CROMPTON
Which bits?

GEORGE
All the bits about me and Uncle Jim
in The Little White Bird.

CAMERA moves into Arthur'S POV of the printed dedication.

SYLVIA (O.S.)
Well I think it's beautiful - and
so like Jimmy to think of it ...
don't you think, dearest?

Arthur makes no reply to Sylvia as the CAMERA ZOOMS slowly in
on the printed dedication:
TO Sylvia AND Arthur LLEWELYN DAVIES
AND THEIR BOYS (MY BOYS)

CAMERA ZOOMS into EXTREME CLOSE UP on the bracketed words (MY
BOYS) until the brackets are lost on either side.

SLOW DISSOLVE:

INT. EGERTON HOUSE - NURSERY. 1906. DAY

The words MY BOYS hold a moment over a CLOSE UP of Michael,
gazing steadfastly ahead of him, almost into CAMERA.

BARRIE
(O.S., dramatically)
There's none can save you now!

CAMERA PULLS slowly back to reveal Michael sitting cross
legged on his bed in the manner of a young Rajah, watching a
performance of Peter Pan in his nursery and never smiling
throughout.

GEORGE
(O.S., as Peter Pan)
There's one who never fails!

BARRIE
(O.S., as Captain Hook)
Who's that?

CAMERA PULLS right back as George, playing Peter Pan, leaps
into SHOT, his sword drawn -

GEORGE
Peter Pan, the Avenger!

Barrie, dressed as Captain Hook, recoils in mock terror as
George advances on him, then retreats to the safety of his
Pirate Crew, which includes Frohman playing Smee.

The nursery has been converted into the deck of the Pirate
Ship, with the AUDIENCE sitting at the far end, grouped
around Michael's bed. They include Sylvia, Mary Hodgson with
Nico (now aged 4) on her lap, a few members of the STAFF
(MINNIE the Cook, AMY the Parlourmaid, BESSIE the Under
Parlourmaid), Peter (now aged 10), and Jack. Each holds a
programme specially printed for the occasion:
PETER PAN
IN MICHAEL'S NURSERY,
February 20th, 1906.
BY COMMAND OF MICHAEL,
MR. CHARLES FROHMAN PRESENTS
SCENES FROM PETER PAN
BY J.M. BARRIE

Although the adults in the AUDIENCE seem to be enjoying the
play, Peter and Jack look singularly bored by it all, and are
flicking rubber-bands at each other.

George, as Peter Pan, advances on Barrie's Captain Hook -

BARRIE
(to the pirates)
Cleave him to the brisket!

GEORGE
(to the Lost Boys)
Down, boys, and at them!

During the ensuing conflict, the adults in the AUDIENCE try
to enliven the proceedings by calling out a variety of tame
exhortations to the combatants on stage. Michael, however,
remains dark, dour and impenetrable throughout.

Suddenly Nico jumps down from Mary Hodgson's lap and enters
the fray -

MARY HODGSON
Nico - come back!

NICO
But I want to kill pirates too!

Frohman, as Smee, rescues Nico from the confusion, lifts him
onto his shoulders and lends him a club, which Nico puts to
immediate use on the head of an unsuspecting PIRATE. Mary
Hodgson hurries over.

NICO (CONT'D)
(in joyous transport)
Look, Mary - I've killed a pirate!

MARY HODGSON
Oh, Nico, it's horrible!

NICO
No it isn't - I like it, I like it!

Nico's unscripted line raises a cheer from the AUDIENCE.

GEORGE
(to the Lost Boys)
Put up your swords, boys. This man
is mine!

George and Barrie face each other for the final conflict.

BARRIE
(with curling lip)
So, Pan, this is all your doing?

GEORGE
Aye, Jas Hook, it is all my doing.

FROHMAN
He's Napoleon!

GEORGE
That's who I am, I'm Napoleon ...
he was little too!

BARRIE
Proud and insolent youth, prepare
to meet thy doom!

GEORGE
Dark and sinister man, have at
thee!

As George and HOOK fight their duel, the CAMERA moves past
them to favour Peter and Jack, who are now flicking rubber
bands at AMY's backside.

Sylvia catches sight of Jack and scowls at him, afraid that
Barrie might see; but Jack merely fires the rubber-band at
George. As George moves to avoid a second attack, CAMERA
HOLDS on Barrie, who has been watching them. In a brief
moment of realisation, he sees that the two boys have
outgrown both Peter Pan and him.

George has his foot on Barrie's sword.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
(prompting him)
It's your turn, Uncle Jim.

BARRIE
(wearily)
Hmm? Oh, I suppose so

Barrie picks up his sword, but has lost interest in the game.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(mechanically)
Er, 'tis some fiend fighting me -
er, Pan, who and what art thou?

GEORGE
(expansively)
I'm the sun rising, I'm the poet
dreaming, I'm joy, I'm youth, I'm
eternal youth!

Background SOUND FADES as Barrie's notebook voice LAPS OVER -

BARRIE (V.O.)
"What Every Woman Knows". Revise to
include a character who fails to
develop normally, whose spirit
remains young in an ageing body,
constantly upset when some outward
proof suddenly jabs at his inward
conviction of perpetual youth.

Normal SOUND resumes as George prompts Barrie again -

GEORGE
Come on, Uncle Jim ...

BARRIE
Oh, yes - er ... To't again!

GEORGE
Cut me in pieces, and every piece
will run at you. The littler I am,
the more terrible!

George lunges at Barrie, and succeeds in prodding him to the
end of the plank, where Barrie's chauffeur, ALPHONSE, is
holding the head of a papier-mache crocodile at the ready.

BARRIE
(grandly)
Back, back, you pewling spawn!
(quietly, to Michael)
I'll show you now the road to dusty
death.
(turns back to George) )
Pan, no words of mine can express
my utter contempt for thee!

GEORGE
James Hook, thou not wholly
unheroic figure, farewell.

With a final contemptuous sneer, Barrie projects himself into
the yawning jaws of the crocodile. A cheer goes up from the
AUDIENCE and CAST alike.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
Floreat Etona!

As the curtains are drawn across Michael's relentless frown,
Nico cries out -

NICO
Oh, curtain, curtain - please don't
come down!

DISSOLVE INTO:

INT. NURSING HOME - ARTHUR'S ROOM. 1906. NIGHT

The presentation copy of "Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens"
lies discarded on a bedside table, a water-jug on top of it.

Nearby, Crompton reads to Arthur from a volume of Matthew
Arnold's verse. As he reads, Arthur mouths the words from
memory.

CROMPTON
(very quietly)
... where Sorhab lay dead,
And Rustum and his son were left alone.
But the majestic river floated on,
Out of the mist and hum of that low land
Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,
Rejoicing, through the hush'd Chorasmian waste,
Under the solitary moon; until at last
The long'd-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
His luminous home of waters opens, bright
And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars
Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.

A pause, then Crompton closes the book. Arthur tries to
smile, squeezes his brother's hand in gratitude.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - MARY'S WORKROOM. 1906. DAY

FADE UP on Mary Barrie, sand-papering an enamel dish in a
small workroom equipped for her enamelling hobby. Several
finished ornaments are arranged on a display rack behind her.

A knock at the door, and LUATH stirs from under the table.

MARY BARRIE
Come in?

The housekeeper, MRS BENSON, opens the door.

MRS BENSON
Excuse me, Mrs Barrie, but there's
a Mr Gilbert Cannan called to see
Mr Barrie.

MARY BARRIE
Oh, very well. Will you show him in
here?

MRS BENSON
Very good, ma'am.

Mary Barrie continues her work. Presently MRS BENSON ushers a
young man in his mid 20's, GILBERT Cannan, into the room.

MRS BENSON (CONT'D)
Mr Cannan, ma'am.

MRS BENSON goes, leaving Cannan alone with Mary Barrie.

MARY BARRIE
I'm afraid my husband's not in.

CANNAN
Oh, well he asked me to leave the
Committee's report for his
inspection.
(shaking hands)
I'm the Committee's secretary,
Gilbert Cannan.

MARY BARRIE
For Captain Scott?

CANNAN
Captain Scott?

MARY BARRIE
You're from the Antarctic
Committee?

CANNAN
No, no - the Censorship Committee.

Mary Barrie tries to conceal her ignorance of Barrie's
affairs.

MARY BARRIE
Oh. Ah, yes. Forgive me, but my
husband's on so many committees
these days that I get a bit
confused by them all. Unfortunately
he's gone down to Eton for the day.

CANNAN
You have a boy there?

MARY BARRIE
No, no - just a friend of my
husband's. He's sitting some sort
of scholarship exam. The friend,
that is.

MARY gives a characteristic giggle. Cannan smiles.

CANNAN
I see. Well, perhaps you'd be kind
enough to give him these. Your
husband, that is. He'll be needing
them at dinner tonight.

MARY BARRIE
Tonight?

CANNAN
The Home Secretary.

MARY seems totally in the dark.

CANNAN (CONT'D)
He is having dinner with him
tonight, isn't he?

MARY BARRIE
Er, yes - oh, of course, it's
Friday, isn't it. How silly of me,
I was thinking it was Thursday. Er,
yes. Yes, we are.

The "we" is somewhat pointed. Cannan observes her nervous
smile, then hands her a file of papers.

CANNAN
Well these are the amendments he
wanted in here - I've marked them
in pencil - and this is the Draft
Proposal. If there are any
problems, I'll be at the Royal
Court Theatre all afternoon.

MARY BARRIE
Fine. I'll give them to him as soon
as he gets back.

CANNAN
I'd be much obliged.

As Cannan collects up his briefcase, he notices the enamel
ornaments.

CANNAN (CONT'D)
Is this your work?

MARY BARRIE
Oh, a hobby really. I do it in my
spare time.

CANNAN
Your husband has a very talented
wife, if I might say so.

MARY BARRIE
(caught off-guard)
Oh ... thank you.

CANNAN
(shaking hands)
Goodbye, Mrs Barrie.

MARY BARRIE
Mrs Benson will see you out.

Mary Barrie rings the house-bell as Cannan leaves.

EXT. ROAD & COUNTRYSIDE. 1906. DUSK

A 1906 Lancia bumbles along the Windsor-London road, driven
by Barrie's chauffeur, ALPHONSE.

INT. LANCIA - TRAVELLING. 1906. DUSK

Sylvia gazes impassively out of the window while Barrie,
aware of her mood, talks breezily in an effort to cheer her.

BARRIE
You know the only time I really
feel a foreigner in England is when
I try to understand your Public
School system. It completely
defeats me. Did you see George's
face when he went in to face the
examination firing-squad? He had
"Floreat Etona" written all over
his smile. He's already in love
with Eton, and they haven't even
let him in yet.

Sylvia makes no response. Barrie pats her knee reassuringly.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Don't you worry about George. He'll
do very well for himself, you'll
see.

SYLVIA
(vacantly)
"Don't kiss me, mother, there's a
sport. And whatever you do, don't
blub." Do you know I haven't cried
since that day in the hospital when
I broke down on your shoulder and
cried like a baby? I've got no
emotion left. I'm dried up. Numb.

BARRIE
Of course you're not. Your heart
beats brave as ever, you...

SYLVIA
(interrupting sharply)
Oh, Jimmy, for God's sake stop
being so sympathetic all the time!
I need you to shake me to my
senses, not suffocate me with
kindness. I can't laugh. I can't
cry. I'm just a vegetable,
vegetating in self-pity.

Sylvia's outburst takes Barrie unawares. He turns away from
her as if hurt and gazes out of the window in silence.

BARRIE
I remember once ... perhaps I've
told you already - no, I don't
think I did ... I remember there
was a couple living in Scotland
who'd been happily married for, oh,
forty years or so. And then one day
the wife died. Of course the
husband was miserable, distraught.
Well the undertaker came, and she
was laid out in her coffin, and
then they carried her down the
stairs and along the garden path.
And as they were just going through
the gate, the coffin struck the
gate-post. Presently they heard
this knocking sound coming from
inside the coffin, so they put it
down and opened it up, and ...
well, you can imagine the husband
was overjoyed to find that his wife
was still alive.

Sylvia listens without reaction, somewhat puzzled at the
purpose of the story.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Well so anyway they lived on
happily for another four or five
years, and then the wife died
again. Undertaker came - laid her
out in the coffin - carried
downstairs, along the garden path.
And just as they were going through
the gate, the husband lent across
to the undertaker and said, "Eh,
mind that post."

A long pause, then Sylvia begins to laugh. She laughs
uncontrollably, the tears pouring down her cheeks; then the
laugh turns to a cry, and she breaks down, sobbing, burying
her face in her hands.

With her face still covered, she holds out a hand to Barrie.
He takes it in his own. But there is no anguish in his
expression, only relief at the sight of her tears.

EXT. ROAD & COUNTRYSIDE. 1906. DUSK

The Lancia rumbles on into the gathering gloom of London.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1906. NIGHT

Mary Barrie hovers by the fire while Barrie glances through
the documents left by Gilbert Cannan. He is half-dressed for
dinner, trying to do up his cuffs while reading.

MARY BARRIE
You might have told me you were
having dinner with the Home
Secretary. I felt such a fool not
knowing.

Barrie continues reading.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
What's it all about, anyway? I
didn't even know you were
interested in censoring plays.

BARRIE
(without looking up)
The Committee is for the Abolition
of Censorship.

MARY BARRIE
Well there you are. That Mr Cannan
must have thought I was a complete
idiot.

Barrie makes no response.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
(persisting)
Isn't there anything I could do?

BARRIE
(without looking up)
Yes, pass the ink will you?

MARY passes him the inkwell. While continuing to read, Barrie
blacks the worn cuffs of his Jacket with ink, as of habit.

MARY BARRIE
The richest writer in the country,
and he has to black his cuffs with
ink.

Still no response from Barrie.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
I meant isn't there anything I
could do to help you with this
Committee work?

BARRIE
You can try and read this chap's
handwriting if you like - it's
worse than mine.

MARY BARRIE
(responding)
Would you like me to type-write
them out?

BARRIE
You can't type-write.

MARY BARRIE
I could learn - on the machine I
gave you. You never use it.

BARRIE
(shrugging)
If it amuses you.

Barrie finishes the last page of the Committee's proposal,
deposits it on the desk, folds up a few of his own notes and
stuffs them in his pocket.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
I'll be sitting up with Arthur
tonight, so don't bother to wait up
for me.

Barrie puts on his Jacket, dusts it down, stokes the pockets
with tobacco, then goes to the door.

MARY BARRIE
Can I really?

BARRIE
Can you really what?

MARY BARRIE
Type-write those papers?

BARRIE
I just said you could ... but I
can't for the life of me think why
you should want to.

MARY BARRIE
(simply)
To be of use to you.

Barrie looks at her, mildly bemused, then kisses her briefly
on the cheek.

BARRIE
Good-night, dear.

Barrie leaves the room.

Mary Barrie goes to a cupboard, pulls a chair over, climbs up
and reaches for the top shelf. She lifts down a large case
and carries it across to Barrie's desk. It contains a
typewriter, rarely used and dusty with age.

INT. NURSING HOME - ARTHUR'S ROOM. 1906. NIGHT

Arthur lies asleep in bed. Sylvia sits beside him, writing a
letter by the light of a small bedside lamp.

SYLVIA
(voice-over)
For June the 16th, my Michael's 6th
birthday. We shall all be coming
home on Thursday, in Mr Barrie's
motor-car if it is fine, and I will
bring my present to you then. I
want so to tell you about father,
who is so brave, and you will be so
proud that you are his son. I don't
like being away from you on your
dear birthday, but it will not be
long now.

As Sylvia continues writing, the CAMERA PULLS BACK slowly
into LONG SHOT, bringing Barrie into foreground CLOSE UP. He
too is writing, but is sitting in deep shadow.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
Oh, my little Michael - won't it be
fine when we are all together
again! Father does so want to be
back with his sons. He still cannot
talk properly, and when he comes
home you will have to guess what he
is saying, as Mary does for Nico.
Mr Barrie is here with me, and he
is writing too. Don't you think he
is a very good friend to all of us?
He is our fairy prince - much the
best fairy prince that ever was
because he is real. I expect he is
inventing some more funny stories
to give you to read ...

BARRIE (V.O.)
Arthur talking to me about death.
Spoke about great difference in
dying when you have children - you
yourself living on in them, not
going out completely. Could work
this into story of dying man who
yearns for a second chance to live
life over again. Perhaps he has no
children of his own. Curse of his
life could be that he has never
"had a woman". Blames women for
this, but really his own fault - a
black spot within him, there since
birth. Could be a play about two
men, each trying to overcome some
accursed thing inside them. One a
physical disease, à la Arthur, the
other mental or spiritual. Each
tries to fight it ...
(a wry smile)
... but it gets us both in the end.

INT. SAVOY GRILL ROOM. 1907. DAY

Barrie, Mary Barrie and GILBERT Cannan work at Frohman's
Corner Table, drinking coffee after a working lunch. The
table is strewn with documents. MARY takes occasional notes.

CANNAN
But it's political support we
really need, and I just don't see
how we're going to get it.

BARRIE
Well the Home Secretary assured me
that if we could find enough
eminent authors to support the
petition, he'd be prepared to lay
it before the Commons for debate.
So I suggest that our next move is
to draw up some sort of formal
document stating our case, and we
put it out on a circular basis.

CANNAN
The only problem there is steering
a middle course - how to get the
maximum amount of support without
having to compromise. Granville
Barker feels that the best...

Cannan breaks off as George walks over to the table.

GEORGE
Two o'clock, Uncle Jim - Mother's
waiting outside in the car.

BARRIE
(a wink at George)
"For this relief, much thanks" ...
(to Cannan)
Gilbert, this is George Llewelyn
Davies. George, this is Gilbert
Cannan - an author of some talent,
unlike my good self.

GEORGE
How d'you do. Hello, Mrs Barrie.

MARY BARRIE
Hello, dearest.
(to Cannan, a whisper)
George is the one who started it
all.

CANNAN
Started what?

BARRIE
The longest story I shall never
write.

Barrie gets up from the table.

MARY BARRIE
(to Cannan)
His father's been in hospital, but
well, today's the great day, isn't
it George?

GEORGE
(to Cannan)
We're taking him home in Mr
Barrie's motor-car.

MARY BARRIE
You will give him my fondest love,
won't you? And to your mother.

GEORGE
Yes, of course.

BARRIE
(to Cannan, overlapped)
Well let's draw up something along
those lines anyway, and then we can
discuss it with Frohman and
Granville Barker.

CANNAN
Fine, I'll leave it with Mary. Good-
bye, George.

Barrie and George leave the Grill Room.

MARY BARRIE
(calling to Barrie)
Goodbye, dearest - I'll see you...?

BARRIE
Anon.

Mary Barrie watches them go, then reacts to Cannan's gaze and
quickly looks away.

[CANNAN
What did you mean about George
"starting it all"?

MARY BARRIE
Well - he says he'll never write
it, but he's been writing it ever
since he first met him. Did you
ever read The Little White Bird?

CANNAN
(dryly)
I can't say that I have.

MARY BARRIE
Oh. Well, it's all there. A lonely
bachelor meets a boy in Kensington
Gardens and wins him by telling him
stories about Peter Pan.

CANNAN
Which was George?

MARY BARRIE
The boy in the Gardens.

CANNAN
And Peter Pan?

MARY BARRIE
Ah, there you have me. I don't
think even Jim knows where he came
from.

CANNAN
Was this before you were married?

MARY BARRIE
Oh no. No, we'd been married four
or five years by then.

CANNAN
But no children of your own?

MARY BARRIE
(an evasive giggle)
No ... No, we decided against it.
I, er, I didn't hear what Jim said
just then?

CANNAN
About what?

MARY BARRIE
About the petition?

CANNAN
I'd rather talk about you.

MARY BARRIE
(mildly embarrassed)
There's nothing to talk about.

CANNAN
How did you first meet him?

MARY BARRIE
Oh ... I've forgotten.
(pause)
I think he wanted me to be in one
of his plays. He wanted a flirt.

CANNAN
And were you?

MARY BARRIE
(a nervous smile)
I got the part.

CANNAN
Why did you give up acting?

MARY BARRIE
Oh... I don't know why you're
asking me all these questions?

CANNAN
I'm interested.

MARY BARRIE
For one of your books?

CANNAN
What book?

MARY BARRIE
Gilbert, I've been married to a
writer for too long not to know the
tricks of the trade. You jot us
down in little notebooks, then pull
us out on Christmas Day to decorate
your trees.

CANNAN
You're the one who's been doing the
jotting.

Mary Barrie has been concealing her nerves by doodling in her
own notebook. Cannan leans across and takes her hand.

CANNAN (CONT'D)
Alright. I, Gilbert Cannan, do
hereby solemnly swear that I shall
never knowingly jot you down in
anything, so help me God.]

EXT. EGERTON HOUSE & GARDEN. 1906. DAY

A large walled garden, with an imposing Elizabethan house in
the background: Egerton House.

Peter kneels by an ornamental pond in foreground, fishing in
clandestine fashion for goldfish with a piece of string tied
round his finger. Michael watches in fascination as he hooks
a struggling goldfish from the pond.

SYLVIA
(calling, O.S.)
Peter, Michael!

Michael glances round as Peter hides the fish.

MICHAEL
Father!

Michael and Peter abandon the struggling goldfish and race
across the lawn to greet Arthur, who is being wheeled along
the terrace by Sylvia, George and Jack.

As Michael approaches Arthur, he notices his father's facial
disfigurement for the first time.

ARTHUR
(barely comprehensible)
Hello, dear boy.

MICHAEL
(awkwardly)
Hello, father.
(to Sylvia)
Where's Uncle Jim?

SYLVIA
He'll be along in a minute.
Father's got his birthday present
for you.

MICHAEL
Oh. Thank you.

Arthur fumbles under his travelling-rug and extracts a small
parcel which he gives to Michael. While Michael unwraps it,
Peter edges forward.

PETER
Can I show you my rats, father?

GEORGE
No you can't - I haven't shown him
my butterflies yet.

Michael unwraps his present: a small, leather-bound edition
of Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner. He flicks through
the pages in search of illustrations, but finds none.

ARTHUR
I wanted to give you an edition
with Dore's plates, but your mother
thought they might give you
nightmares.

Arthur talks with the aid of an artificial jaw, and his words
are almost incomprehensible at times.

MICHAEL
(to Sylvia)
Give what?

SYLVIA
Give you nightmares, darling.

MICHAEL
Oh. Why?

SYLVIA
Because they're very ... oh, it
doesn't matter. Now why don't you
wheel father round the garden -
then you can show him all the
flowers that have come up while
he's been gone.

NICO
(calling, O.S.)
Michael!

Michael turns to see Nico standing with Barrie in the garden
porch. Barrie carries a camera-case and tripod, while Nico
struggles with a huge parcel.

NICO (CONT'D)
Look what Uncle Jim's brought you!

MICHAEL
(straining to run)
Oh - please ... may I go and open
it?

SYLVIA
Well no, darling, I mean I really
think you ought to ...

ARTHUR
(interrupting gently)
No, let him go if he wants to.

SYLVIA
Very well then - off you go.

Michael races off towards Barrie, abandoning Arthur's present
in his lap. Sylvia looks hurt by Michael's unintentional
heartlessness, but Arthur understands.

JACK
(irritated)
Why's he call him Uncle Jim?

GEORGE
Well why not?

JACK
But he's not our uncle.

ARTHUR
(cautioning)
Now Jack ...
(trying to smile)
I think Uncle Jim suits him very
well.

Arthur watches as Barrie scoops up Michael in his arms,
swinging him round and round.

ARTHUR (CONT'D)
(to the other boys)
Now then, which of you boys is
going to show me round the garden?

JACK
I will, father!

GEORGE
No, we all will. Come on, let's
show him the Blackcap's nest first,
and then I'll show him my
butterflies -

PETER
(overlapping)
No, I was first - I want to show
him my rats!

George and Jack wheel Arthur off along the garden path, with
Peter squeezing in between them. Sylvia watches them go, then
turns to the porch where Michael has unpacked his present.

MICHAEL
Look, mother - look what Uncle
Jim's given me!

Michael holds up a hand-made replica of Peter Pan's stage
costume, complete with dagger and sword.

SYLVIA
(without enthusiasm)
Well that's lovely, darling.

MICHAEL
May I put it on?

SYLVIA
Of course you can ... but let Nico
help you.

Michael and Nico run indoors, leaving a downcast Sylvia alone
as Barrie walks over.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
There's been some rather bad news,
I'm afraid. I haven't told Arthur
yet.

BARRIE
(anxiously)
What is it?

SYLVIA
George. He's failed his scholarship
to Eton.

BARRIE
Oh, is that all ... I thought it
was something to do with Arthur.

SYLVIA
(irritably)
Well of course it's to do with
Arthur. He can't possibly afford
the school-fees.

Sylvia walks away. Barrie pauses, then walks with her.

BARRIE
Aren't you forgetting my promise?

SYLVIA
Oh, no. No, Jimmy - the operations
were one thing, but if you start
paying for the boys schooling as
well, I ... I don't think Arthur
could bear that.

Sylvia sits on a garden bench while Barrie remains standing.

BARRIE
Do you know how much money Peter
Pan has made since it first opened?

SYLVIA
What's that got to do with it?

BARRIE
Just over half a million pounds,
and that's not including America.
Now you tell me this, where would
Peter be if it hadn't been for
George? Don't you think he deserves
his share of the spoils ... even if
it is only to send him to school?

SYLVIA
But what about the others? We can't
just send George to Eton - it
wouldn't be fair on the others.

BARRIE
Oh, don't you worry - I'll get my
money's worth out of them yet.
You'll see.

MICHAEL
(O.S., calling)
Dark and sinister man, have at
thee!

Barrie turns to see Michael dressed as Peter Pan at the top
of the steps, brandishing his sword and ready to do battle.

At the far end of the garden, Arthur watches as Michael
engages Barrie in a mock duel. George, Jack and Peter are
grouped round Arthur's wheelchair.

ARTHUR
I don't know what we'd have done
without Mr Barrie. He's been so
kind and generous.

JACK
(aside, to Peter)
We'd have done all right.

ARTHUR
What was that, Jack?

JACK
Nothing, father.

ARTHUR
I think it was something. Peter?

PETER
Yes, father?

ARTHUR
Would you like to show me your rats
now?

PETER
(eagerly)
Shall I get them?

ARTHUR
You shall.

Peter runs off, leaving Arthur alone with George and Jack. In
the background, Nico joins Michael against Barrie.

ARTHUR (CONT'D)
Jack, I want you to listen to me.
Don't think I don't understand how
you feel about Mr Barrie. No one
understands that so well as I do,
because it's how I felt about him
myself. The only thing we ever had
in common was our mutual love for
you boys, and no father likes to
share his children with another
man. But I have heard so much from
him that is wise, and good, and
true, that I have come to regard
him as a brother. His love for you
boys is my one great comfort when I
think of the future after I'm gone.

GEORGE
But ... but you're better ...
Mother said so ...

ARTHUR
There's always a chance, but ...

JACK
(on the verge of tears)
It's not true, father! Say it's not
true!

ARTHUR
Believe me, I'd howl if I thought
it would do any good. But I want
you to be brave, as I am feebly
trying to be brave. We mustn't
think of ourselves, we ... we
mustn't ...

Arthur grips onto George and Jack, unable to continue without
breaking down. The two boys are already reduced to tears.

At the other end of the garden, Barrie lines Michael up for a
photograph, posing him as Peter Pan, the lust of battle in
his eye.

BARRIE
(to Michael)
Remember, you're Captain of the
Lost Boys ... the boy who struck
Hook from the lists of man! That's
it - that's better ... now look
straight into the camera, and let's
hear that drum beating inside you!

Barrie returns to his camera, mounted on a tripod, and
disappears under the black hood. Nico stands beside him,
wearing his hat.

As the shutter clicks: a sepia photograph of Michael as Peter
Pan, his sword raised, his eyes blazing with energy.

EXT. LEINSTER CORNER - WINDOW. 1907. DAY

From outside the window: Barrie stares vacantly at the rain,
his mind far away.

CANNAN (O.S.)
We, the undersigned, protest
against the present censorship of
plays, an office instituted for
political, and not the so-called
moral ends to which it has been
perverted ...

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1907. DAY

Barrie continues to stare blankly out of the window while
Cannan reads out the Petition to Frohman and two other
committee members: J E VEDRENNE and HARLEY GRANVILLE-BARKER.

Mary Barrie sits beside Cannan at Barrie's desk, handing him
the pages of the typed draft as he reads. The emphasis of the
scene, however, remains on Barrie, and most of Cannan's
dialogue is heard OFF CAMERA.

CANNAN
... an office authoritarian in
procedures, opposed to...

FROHMAN
(interposing)
Autocratic.

CANNAN
Autocratic, yes - much better.
(changes draft)
Autocratic in procedure, opposed to
the spirit of the Constitution,
contrary to common justice and to
common sense -

MARY BARRIE
(overlapped)
That's the bit I like!

Barrie remains totally detached from the Committee, staring
out of the window, preoccupied with his own thoughts.

CANNAN (O.S.)
We assert that the Censorship has
not been exercised in the interests
of morality, and that the public
through their representatives are
the best judges of their own
morals...

Cannan's voice fades as Barrie's LAPS OVER -

BARRIE (V.O.)
The Lovely Moment. Finest dream in
the world. That it is early
morning, and I am out on a highland
road.
It is a time before I knew anything
of the world, and its pain, and
sorrow. I am a boy again. Everyone
I have loved is still alive. It is
the morning of my life.

Cannan's voice resumes in the background, but the CAMERA
remains on Barrie, staring out of the window.

CANNAN (O.S.)
... and to these ends they claim
that the office of Censorship shall
be abolished. The following authors
have already promised their
support: J M Barrie, Harley
Granville-Barker, Gilbert Cannan,
Joseph Conrad, John Galsworthy -

While Cannan continues, the telephone rings. Frohman answers.

CANNAN (CONT'D)
Thomas Hardy, Anthony Hope,
A E Housman, Henry James, John
Masefield, A E W Mason, W Somerset
Maugham, George Meredith ...

Frohman passes the telephone to Barrie -

FROHMAN
(to Barrie, overlapped)
It's Sylvia - for you ...

Barrie takes it from Frohman, a note of premonition already
in his voice as he speaks -

BARRIE
(into phone)
Jimmy ...

Barrie listens in silence to the news of Arthur's death while
Cannan drones on in the background.

CANNAN (O.S.)
Gilbert Murray, George Bernard Shaw,
Algernon Swinburne, H G Wells, and W
B Yeats. We hope that you too will
lend your support by signing the
enclosed petition and returning it
at once to: J M Barrie, Leinster
Corner, Lancaster Gate, London West.
Yours truly, etc., etc.

Barrie hangs up the telephone, tears welling in his eyes.

CANNAN (CONT'D)
Does that sound better to you,
Jimmy?

INT. EGERTON HOUSE - NURSERY. 1907. DAY

The nursery has been stripped of furniture, with only a few
tea chests and skeletal beds awaiting removal.

The door opens, and Sylvia drifts into the room, Ophelia
like, dressed in black and wearing a black veil. She moves
towards the window, oblivious to her surroundings. All colour
is burnt out by the back-light from the window.

SYLVIA (V.O.)
My dearest Jimmy,
I think of you so often, and I
know how you loved Arthur, and that
helps me in my sorrow. You will
love me always, won't you, and help
me to live through the long, long
years. How shall I do it, I wonder?
It all seems so impossible. We were
so utterly and altogether happy,
and that happiness is the most
precious thing on earth. I am so
grateful to you, and I will show it
one day I hope, but just now I am
full of deadly pain and sorrow, and
I often wonder I am alive.
(pause)
I always sleep with my George now,
and it comforts, more than I can
say, to touch him, and I feel
Arthur must know. He will live
again in them, and that must be my
dear comfort till I go to him at
last. How we longed to grow old
together ... Oh my dear friend, it
is all so utterly impossible to
understand. The boys are loving and
thoughtful, but they have all got
to grow up, and be men, and for
Arthur's sake I must fight that
fight too.
(pause)
I think of him almost always now as
he was, before the tragic illness,
when God gave him the finest face
in the world.

SLOW FADE OUT.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1908. DAY

FADE UP on the drawing-room of the Llewelyn Davies family's
new London home overlooking Campden Hill Square. Sylvia, no
longer wearing black, is arranging curtains with the help of
Mary Hodgson. From upstairs comes the sound of someone
belting out Yip-i-addy-i-ay-i-ay on the piano.

MARY HODGSON
(holding up curtain)
Is that alright, Mrs Arthur?

SYLVIA
I think that's about right, Mary.

MARY HODGSON
(flinching at noise)
I sometimes wonder if those boys
ever realised that the soft pedal
wasn't built into a piano for
nothing.

SYLVIA
(smiling)
Let Jack play the piano as loud as
he likes. Now let's try these red
ones ...

A hollow note in Sylvia's tone belies her apparent emergence
from her grief. There is a knock on the front-door: Mary
Hodgson glances through the window.

MARY HODGSON
It's Mr Crompton Llewelyn Davies.
Shall I show him in?

SYLVIA
Please, Mary.

Mary Hodgson goes out into the hall while Sylvia continues
arranging curtains.

CROMPTON (O.S.)
Good morning, Mary.
(calling)
Morning, boys.

PETER & MICHAEL
(O.S., calling)
Morning, Uncle Crompton!

Crompton enters the drawing-room alone, Mary Hodgson closing
the door behind him.

CROMPTON
Morning, Sylvia.

SYLVIA
(pleasantly)
Morning, Crompton.

CROMPTON
How's the move going?

SYLVIA
(indicating curtains)
I think they fit rather well, don't
you?

CROMPTON
Yes indeed - I remember them well.

SYLVIA
Would you like some coffee?

CROMPTON
Oh, no thank you. I only stopped by
for a moment to see how you were
settling in.

Evidently Crompton has stopped by for other reasons as well.

CROMPTON (CONT'D)
I, er ... I was having lunch with
brother Maurice yesterday, and he
brought up the subject of the boys'
future. Have you had any thoughts
on the problem?

SYLVIA
What problem?

CROMPTON
Well, on how you're all going to
manage?

SYLVIA
Oh, we're managing very well.

CROMPTON
I meant financially. Five boys are
quite an expense, particularly if
they're going to Eton, and poor
Arthur can't have left you with
very much.

SYLVIA
He left me with everything I need.
As far as the money's concerned,
Jimmy Barrie's offered to pay for
the boys' education.

CROMPTON
Doesn't that rather compromise
things?

SYLVIA
I don't see why. He enjoys paying
for them.

CROMPTON
Well - the suggestion is that we
brothers set up a trust fund for
you and the boys ...

SYLVIA
(interposing)
I don't see that that's necessary.

CROMPTON
But it would make you independent.

SYLVIA
(firmly)
I've always been independent. All
my life.

Crompton has little alternative but to abandon the subject.

CROMPTON
Well. As long as you know what
you're doing. Still, if ever you
find the boys becoming too much of
a handful ... next holidays, for
instance?

SYLVIA
That's very thoughtful of you, but -
well actually next holidays Jimmy
Barrie's invited us to Switzerland.

CROMPTON
Ah. Well perhaps the summer then.

SYLVIA
Perhaps.

Sylvia laughs tentatively.

CROMPTON
(smiling)
Do you remember the boys' pleasure
when Arthur used to take them to
the theatre?
(pause)
Penny seats, then on to the A.B.C.
for supper.
(gets up)
Goodbye, Sylvia. I'll see myself
out.

Crompton goes, leaving Sylvia to think about his oblique
warning.

INT. SUITE - GRAND HOTEL, CAUX - SWITZERLAND. 1909. DAY

Barrie and Michael sit opposite each other in the opulence of
the Grand Hotel, Caux, playing a game of draughts. Michael,
now aged nine, has already won several games - and a pile of
Swiss francs off Barrie.

A Hotel WAITER clears away the remnants of their room-service
lunch in the background.

BARRIE
(moving his piece)
One, two, buckle my shoe -
(to the waiter)
Er, Garçon - what time does the
afternoon post usually arrive?

WAITER
Excusez-moi, monsieur?

MICHAEL
(without looking up from
the game)
Il veut savoir à quelle heure
arrive la poste.

WAITER
Eh bien, monsieur, la poste arrive
à seize heures et demie.

MICHAEL
Merci.
(to Barrie)
He said, er ... half-past four.
Your turn.

The Waiter leaves the room. Michael watches Barrie's move,
realising that Barrie is again going to lose.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
I hope you've got enough money to
pay me.

BARRIE
Oh, a Scotsman's never short of
ways of making money. I remember
once I charged a boy a shilling a
day to do his mourning for him. His
mother had just died, and he was
finding it rather uphill work to
look solemn - especially as the
football season had just started.
So I volunteered to do his mourning
for him. ...

While Barrie talks, Michael makes his triumphant move.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Every day before school I used to
swap my green Jacket for his black
one, and then I'd go and stand in a
corner of the yard and squeeze my
fist into one eye like this, and
the tears would come out of the
other, while he ran gaily off to
play football - it's your turn.

Barrie lets out a mock groan as he sees that Michael has won.

MICHAEL
That's another ten francs you owe
me. Do you want another game?

BARRIE
Uh-huh.

MICHAEL
Can you afford it?

BARRIE
No.

Barrie pays across ten francs to Michael's pile of winning
while Michael sets up the pieces for another game.

MICHAEL
(vaguely)
I love crying ... it makes me go
all misty inside. But nothing much
makes me cry any more. I used to,
lots. But not any more.

BARRIE
Bet I can make you cry.

MICHAEL
I bet you can't.

BARRIE
Ten francs?

MICHAEL
Done.

Barrie jots down something in his notebook.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
Am I for a story?

BARRIE
No no, just a thought.

MICHAEL
About me?

BARRIE
About your father.

MICHAEL
You can't make me cry about him. I
thought I would forever, but I
didn't at all except for a bit.

No response from Barrie, who continues writing.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
Mother still cries though, doesn't
she.
(pause)
Do you love her?

BARRIE
Of course I love her.

MICHAEL
(a teasing smile)
More than Mrs Barrie?

BARRIE
You shouldn't ask questions like
that.

MICHAEL
But you said I could ask you
anything in the world.

BARRIE
When was I so rash?

MICHAEL
When we were playing the Game.

BARRIE
Ah, but that was only in the Game.

MICHAEL
Well let's play the Game now - I'm
bored of winning draughts all the
time.
(pause)
Anyway, what have you written down?

BARRIE
(reading)
Michael said, "Did father leave me
anything in his Will?" I said,
"Yes. Disease of the liver."

MICHAEL
You never said that.

BARRIE
I will next time.

MICHAEL
Come on, let's play the Game.

Michael picks up a little red book: My Confession Book; he
turns to a blank page, his pen poised for Barrie's answers.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
(reading question)
"Who do you like best?"

BARRIE
Best of whom?

MICHAEL
Well, me and Nico and Peter and
Jack and George.

BARRIE
I suppose all the...

MICHAEL
(interrupting quickly)
Oh, and you're not allowed to say
"all the same".

Barrie puffs on his pipe a moment, pondering Michael's
conceit.

BARRIE
Jack.

MICHAEL
Liar.

BARRIE
Peter.

MICHAEL
Liar.

BARRIE
Well if you know the answer, why
ask the question?

Michael writes "Michael" in the book.

MICHAEL
I just like to hear you say it.

BARRIE
(a raised eyebrow)
You flatter yourself.

MICHAEL
(reading question)
"What's the most exciting thing
that has ever happened to you?"

BARRIE
(taking his time)
Hmm. The most exciting thing
that ever happened to me was ...
(pause)
Something beginning with 'M'.

Michael thinks he knows the answer in one, but plays
innocent.

MICHAEL
Money?

BARRIE
Besides money.

MICHAEL
Mother?

BARRIE
Warmer.

MICHAEL
(lighting up)
Me... Michael!

BARRIE
(relishing his vanity)
Your conceit appalls even me.

MICHAEL
But it is me, isn't it? Oh, do say
it's me ...
(whispering)
I won't tell anybody.

BARRIE
Well, alright, though it pains me
to confess it. Yes, me is the most
exciting thing that ever happened
to me. Not you, mind. Me.

MICHAEL
(deflated)
Oh. But at least I'm the second
most exciting thing, aren't I?

BARRIE
Oh no. No, no - the second most
exciting thing that ever happened
to me was when I was a boy, and a
school friend of mine came running
up to the house one day and told me
that an old man who used to give us
sweeties had slit his throat with a
razor, and if I came quickly I
should see the blood.

MICHAEL
(wide-eyed)
And did you?

BARRIE
I most certainly did. It was just
about the most thrilling thing I'd
ever seen. There was enough blood
to keep us in black puddings for
six months.

Michael laughs.

'BARRIE
And now it's my turn. Why didn't
you go skiing with the others?

MICHAEL
To be with you. Till death us do
part.

BARRIE
Then hold out your wedding finger.

MICHAEL
Why?

BARRIE
So I can blow a smoke ring on it.

MICHAEL
But we're both boys.

Michael holds out his finger, and Barrie blows a smoke-ring
over it.

BARRIE
You speak for yourself.

MICHAEL
You're a boy too.

BARRIE
No, I fear I'm what is commonly
known as grown up.

MICHAEL
Well you're not common, and you're
definitely not grown up. You're
old, but you're not grown up.
You're ... you're one of us.

A pause.

BARRIE
How do you know?

MICHAEL
Because. Because if you were really
grown up, I don't think you'd waste
all your money on a boy like me.

Michael grins cockily.

BARRIE
You presume to know me very well.

MICHAEL
(blithely)
Inside out.
(ad-libbing)
Without a doubt
Is how I see
The mystery
Of J.M.B.
(preening his feathers)
Quite the coming poet, ain't I?

BARRIE
Hmm. To be a poet is a great thing,
But to be a poet
And not to know it
Is the most glorious thing in the
world.
(pause)
Besides, there's no money in
poetry.

Michael gathers up his winnings.

MICHAEL
Maybe not. But there's plenty of
poetry in money.

BARRIE
(a sigh)
Heigh-ho.

The door opens and George, Cannan and Mary Barrie enter the
room, laden with skiing equipment.

Mary Barrie is in high spirits, laughing and talking with
Cannan as George comes over to Barrie.
He is now 15, and is suffering from a certain degree of
adolescent boorishness, as well as a sprinkling of spots.

GEORGE
Hello, Uncle Jim - we've had an
absolutely spanking time! Gilbert
the Filbert took us all lugeing on
Mont Rochers, and then we drove
over to Montreux for lunch ... I
got a bit tipsy!

BARRIE
Where's your mother?

GEORGE
She's downstairs in the billiards
room with the others. Come on,
we're going to have a Slosh
Tournament.

BARRIE
No, I've still got a lot of work to
do ...
(pointedly)
And so has Mr Cannan.

GEORGE
Well don't be long.

Barrie's mood has changed from the moment the others
returned. Michael too has grown moody, resenting the
intrusion. He sits close beside Barrie as George leaves and
Cannan comes over.

CANNAN
Has there been any news?

BARRIE
(indifferently)
Yes - Mr Frohman's telegraphed to
say that the Lord Chamberlain has
banned Granville-Barker's play, so
I suppose we'd better draft some
sort of a reply.

Mary Barrie utters a cry of delight.

CANNAN
Oh, that's wonderful!

BARRIE
(contemptuously)
Really.
(to Michael)
Go on, you'd better go with George.
I'll be down later.

MICHAEL
Oh, can't I stay with you?

BARRIE
(with intentional sadism)
You'd be wasting your time, there's
no money in it.

Barrie abandons Michael and joins Cannan and Mary Barrie.

CAMERA remains on Michael, a storm brewing. He glares at the
ground a moment, then suddenly flings the draught board on
the floor, scattering the pieces hither and thither.

MARY BARRIE
Michael! What's the matter?

MICHAEL
(at Barrie)
I don't want your money ...!

Michael pulls the money from his pocket, slams it down on the
table, turns round and walks out of the room, kicking the
door as he goes. A pause.

MARY BARRIE
(to Barrie)
What's the matter with Michael?

BARRIE
(with quiet pride)
It's the poet in him.
(a shrug)
Just a game we play.

INT. DINING ROOM - GRAND HOTEL - SWITZERLAND. 1909. NIGHT

Seated clockwise around an oval dining-room table are Barrie,
Mary Barrie, Cannan, Peter, Jack, George, Nico, Sylvia, and
Michael - sitting next to Barrie.

Peter and Nico are tucking into their puddings while Michael
still struggles with his fillet-steak. George and Jack look
particularly stylish: George in evening dress, Jack in his
Osborne Naval Cadet uniform.

Both Michael and Barrie seem to be detached from the general
conversation; occasionally one whispers to the other while
the background chatter continues OFF CAMERA.

GEORGE
But why's he banned the play?

CANNAN
Lord knows, he doesn't have to give
a reason.

MARY BARRIE
The Lord Chamberlain only likes
nice comfortable plays set in nice
comfortable homes. The moment you
write about real life, he bans it.

CANNAN
"Anything likely to corrupt or
deprave, or otherwise cause a
breach in the preservation of good
manners" - in other words, anything
likely to expose the hypocrisy of
society.

Michael yawns. Barrie winks at him.

CANNAN (CONT'D)
(to the Wine Waiter)
Garçon, je vous prie - deux
bouteilles du Krug dix-neuf cent
deux.

BARRIE
I've already ordered.

CANNAN
I know, but this is a celebration,
and tonight it's on me.
(to George)
You'd like champagne, wouldn't you?

GEORGE
Oh, ra-ther!

JACK
Me too, please.

NICO
And me!

The others laugh patronizingly, except for Barrie and Michael

SYLVIA
(to Nico)
You're going to bed as soon as
you've finished. Michael, hurry up
or there'll be no time for any
pudding.

CANNAN
(to the wine-waiter)
Alors, garçon - deux bouteilles.

BARRIE
(to the wine-waiter)
Is that the best you have?

WINE WAITER
It is a very fine champagne,
monsieur.

BARRIE
That's not what I asked.

WINE WAITER
Well, naturally it is not as Le
Veuve Cliquot '92 - "The Widow" -
that is the best there is. But Le
Krug is an excellent choice.

While Barrie talks to the Wine Waiter, Sylvia again urges
Michael to finish his food.

MICHAEL
Come on, Michael - Nico's nearly
finished his pudding.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
But I don't want any more.

SYLVIA
Well just finish the meat then.
(to Peter)
Have you nearly finished, Peter?

Michael pulls a long face; he catches Barrie's eye and gives
him an imploring look. Barrie responds by spiriting the steak
onto his own plate, but Sylvia spots him -

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
No, Jimmy - please don't do that.

BARRIE
But I'm paying for it.

SYLVIA
I don't care. Michael, do as you're
told and finish it up.

BARRIE
(at Michael)
Heigh-nonny.

The Wine Waiter is getting impatient.

WINE WAITER
(to Cannan)
Alors, monsieur, deux bouteilles du
Krug?

CANNAN
Oui, mais sur la chambre cent
quatorze.

WINE WAITER
Bien, monsieur.

As the Wine Waiter moves away, Barrie summons him back.

BARRIE
Waiter, change that to two bottles
of The Widow - '92 - and charge it
to my room as usual.

WINE WAITER
Very good, monsieur. Deux
bouteilles du Veuve Cliquot.

The Wine Waiter hurries away before anyone else decides to
change the order. Cannan looks somewhat put out by Barrie's
display of one-upmanship.

CANNAN
But Jimmy, I wanted to pay for it.

MARY BARRIE
Let's just celebrate, shall we?

Mary Barrie touches Cannan's arm: she knows her husband too
well to risk further argument.

SYLVIA
I know I must be wrong, but I can't
believe that Mr Barker's got much
to celebrate about if they've just
banned his play.

MARY BARRIE
Oh, he's as keen as anyone to see
an end to censorship. The play's
just the means.

BARRIE
(to Mary Barrie)
Which just goes to show how little
you know about writers.

MARY BARRIE
Oh, but .... I mean Gilbert
wouldn't mind -
(turning to Cannan)
Would you? If it was your play?

CANNAN
Well - I suppose not, if it helped
the cause.

Sylvia senses the atmosphere.

SYLVIA
Come on, Nico - let's leave these
revolutionaries to their schemes
and get you ready for bed.

NICO
Oh? Why's it always me? Just
because I'm the youngest.

SYLVIA
It isn't only you - Peter, Michael,
you too, time for bed.

While Michael and Peter get down from the table, Jack notices
that Mary Barrie has her hand on Cannan's lap; he whispers it
to George, pointing discreetly, but Sylvia, ever observant,
spots him -

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
(a sharp warning)
Jack.

The incident goes unnoticed by Barrie, who is more intent on
retaining Michael at the table.

BARRIE
(to Sylvia)
Can't Michael stay a bit longer?

SYLVIA
No, Jimmy, it's not fair on the
others.

MICHAEL
(to Barrie, imitating him)
"Heigh-ho". Good-night, Uncle Jim.

BARRIE
Good-night, Michael.
(vaguely)
Night Peter, night Nico.

Michael follows Peter, Nico and Sylvia from the room.

MARY BARRIE
You know Jimmy, Sylvia's right -
you really shouldn't spoil Michael
so much. It's not good for him.

BARRIE
And since when have you been an
authority on bringing up children?

INT. CORRIDOR - GRAND HOTEL - SWITZERLAND. 1909. NIGHT

Peter, Michael and Nico coast along the corridor, followed by
Sylvia.

PETER
I wonder why Uncle Jim's in such a
bad mood.

MICHAEL
He's not in a bad mood. He's just
not in a good mood, that's all.

While the boys walk on ahead, Sylvia pauses by a table to
steady herself, then collapses to the floor.

PETER (O.S.)
Mother!

Peter runs back to Sylvia -

PETER (CONT'D)
What's the matter?
(calling)
Michael! Help me - quickly!

SYLVIA
It's alright, Peter - I'm fine.

Michael and Nico come running up.

NICO
Mother - are you drunk?

PETER
Don't be so stupid, Nico!

Nico promptly bursts into tears.

PETER (CONT'D)
Oh for heaven's sake, stop it!
Michael - quickly - go and fetch
Uncle Jim...

SYLVIA
No, Peter - I'm alright - really -
just a bit dizzy, that's all...

PETER
Go on - quickly!

Michael runs off down the corridor.

INT. SUITE - GRAND HOTEL - SWITZERLAND. 1909. NIGHT

Sylvia lies on the sofa, wrapped in a travelling rug. Barrie
sits by her while Cannan, George and Jack remain by the door.

SYLVIA
Don't leave me ...

BARRIE
I'm still here.

Mary enters in the background.

MARY BARRIE
I've put the boys to bud and
they're sound asleep.

Barrie nods, but without turning from Sylvia.

CANNAN
Come on, boys ... George, Jack -

INT. CORRIDOR - GRAND HOTEL - SWITZERLAND. 1909. NIGHT

Cannan leads George and Jack from the suite.

JACK
I think one of us should stay with
mother.

GEORGE
She'll be alright, she's got Uncle
Jim.

JACK
I know, but I still, don't like to
leave her.

CANNAN
The doctor's given her a sleeping
draught, so there's nothing more we
can do. Let's just leave her to
sleep in peace.

Jack reluctantly complies, and follows George and Cannan down
the corridor. A pause, then Mary Barrie also leaves the
suite, closing the double-doors behind her.

INT. SUITE - GRAND HOTEL - SWITZERLAND. 1909. NIGHT 76.

Several hours later. Barrie maintains his vigil beside
Sylvia, sitting in an arm-chair. She stirs in her sleep.

SYLVIA
(murmuring)
Don't leave me ...

Barrie leans forward, about to touch her arm reassuringly.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
Arthur - don't leave me here
without you ...

Barrie reacts, slowly subsiding back into his place.

SLOW FADE INTO:

EXT. BLACK LAKE. 1909. DAY

A thin drizzle moves across Black Lake in a fine mist,
creating hazy tones of grey. Barrie ambles along the water's
edge, clad in an old raincoat. There is little here to remind
him of the idyllic days of the Boy Castaways in the summer of
1901; only the bedraggled corpse of Captain Swarthy remains,
dangling from the tree by the edge of the lake.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dearest Sylvia,
I hear from George that you are
feeling a little better these days,
but I don't believe it, and that
saddens me more than I can say. How
I wish you were all down here at
Black Lake, which is where you
belong. I feel the boys are all
growing up without my looking on,
and I grudge every blank day
without them. I can't picture a
summer's day that does not have
Michael skipping in front of it.
That is summer to me. All the five
know me as nobody else does, and
the bland indifference with which
they accept my moods and tantrums
is the most engaging thing in the
world to me. ...

INT. BLACK LAKE COTTAGE - SITTING ROOM. 1909. DAY

Barrie sits at his desk in Black Lake Cottage, addressing the
envelope.

BARRIE (V.O.)
To be able to help you and them is
my main reason for going on, and my
greatest pride is that you let me
do it.
(a knock at the door)
My censorship work continues as
dreary as ever now that Frohman is
back in New York, but I dare say
the end is in sight.
Ever your loving servant,
J. M. B.

Another knock at the door.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Yes, come in.

The door opens and the Black Lake gardener, Hunt, timidly
enters. Barrie folds up the letter to Sylvia and puts it in
the envelope.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(glancing round)
Ah, Hunt. You wanted to see me?

HUNT
Er, that's right, sir.

Barrie remains preoccupied with the letter, putting the stamp
on the envelope, sealing it down, etc., while Hunt shuffles
into the room.

BARRIE
Well, what is it?

Hunt is evidently in a state of considerable agitation,
fumbling his cap between his fingers.

HUNT
Well sir, it's like this sir.

BARRIE
Why don't you sit down, Hunt.

HUNT
Thank you, sir. Well I likes to
take a pride in me job, same as how
I expect you does, sir. What I mean
is, I like to do me best, sir.

BARRIE
I'm sure you do. If I had the same
green fingers with my pen as you
have with your flowers, I'd be a
happier man.

HUNT
Oh, well that's very kind of you,
sir. But you see, it seems like
your wife - Mrs Barrie that is - it
seems she don't share your generous
sentiments, sir, seeing how she's
had cause to criticise my work near
on every time she's down here.

BARRIE
Well I'm sure she doesn't mean...

HUNT
(doggedly pressing on)
It's all my fault, sir - that's the
way she sees it - and I gets the
blame for the Lord's mistakes as
well as me own.
If it's not the change in the
weather, then it's them moles
diggin' up the North Lawn, and if
it's not the moles, then it's...

BARRIE
(cutting in)
Yes, yes - well I'll have a word
with her when she comes down at the
weekend.

HUNT
Oh. Well, er - thank you, sir.

Barrie returns to his correspondence, but Hunt continues to
hover about like some bird of ill omen.

BARRIE
Was there something else, Hunt?

HUNT
Well yes, sir, as a matter of fact
there was. You see the wife and me
have been doing a bit of talkin',
and she thinks there's one or two
things been happenin' in the house
that you ought to know about. Sir.

BARRIE
What sort of things?

HUNT
Well, you'll forgive me sir, but
may I speak frankly?

BARRIE
I'd be obliged if you would, Hunt.

HUNT
Well, sir, it's about Mrs Barrie
and that Mr Cannan, sir. They've
been down here together.

BARRIE
Yes, I'm well aware of that. Mr
Cannan has my full permission to
come down here and work whenever he
wants.

HUNT
Yes, I know that sir, but what I'm
tryin' to say is that Mrs Barrie
has been, well - shall we say
takin' certain liberties with her
marital vows ... if you get my
meaning, sir.

A pause. Barrie remains absolutely calm.

BARRIE
(very quietly)
Are you trying to tell me that Mrs
Barrie and Mr Cannan have been
making love together?

HUNT
(much relieved)
Thank you, sir - that's exactly
what I've been tryin' to tell you.
The wife's known about it for a
good many months. I knew she had
somethin' on her mind, and the
other evening I asked her what it
was, and she said it was about the
way that Mr Cannan had been
carrying on with Mrs Barrie. Then
she started pouring the whole story
out, how she'd gone into Mrs
Barrie's bedroom one morning and
found her and Mr Cannan in...

BARRIE
(interrupting gently)
Yes Hunt, that's ... thank you,
Hunt there's no need to say any
more.

HUNT
It's the truth, sir.

BARRIE
I dare say, but I don't wish to
hear any more.
(pause)
Now if you'll excuse me.

HUNT
Yes, sir, of course, sir.

Hunt backs slowly towards the door.

HUNT (CONT'D)
I, er - I just would like to say
how very sorry we are, the wife and
me. Very sorry indeed, sir.

Barrie nods, but makes no reply. Hunt leaves the room,
closing the door behind him.

A pause, then Barrie exhales a long, weary sigh.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1909. DAY

Barrie stands in the doorway of the study, still wearing his
raincoat but hatless, his hair soaking wet. Mary Barrie
stands at the far end of the room, her back to the fireplace.

BARRIE
(trembling)
I don't believe you.

MARY BARRIE
It's the truth.

BARRIE
(emphatically)
No!

MARY BARRIE
Yes. I am in love with Gilbert, and
he is in love with me. We have made
love together not once or twice but
repeatedly over the past two years.

Barrie looks totally bewildered. He wanders into the room as
if in a daze. For once, Mary Barrie is in command of her
emotions, remaining calm but firm as she proceeds.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
I'm sorry, Jim. I mean I'm sorry
you had to find out like this. I
should have had the courage to tell
you myself long ago. But you must
have known ...?

BARRIE
(incredulous)
I knew nothing ... you're my wife!

MARY BARRIE
In name only. We haven't been
married for years. I've tried, Jim.
Maybe I didn't try hard enough, I
don't know.

Barrie sinks into an armchair. A long pause.

BARRIE
Alright. But the past is the past,
and if you promise never to see
Cannan again, I'll forget it ever
happened.

MARY BARRIE
But I don't want to forget it. I
want a divorce.

BARRIE
(a bemused echo)
A divorce ...?

MARY BARRIE
Gilbert and I want to get married.

BARRIE
(a derisive laugh)
But you're twice his age ... it's
unthinkable!

MARY BARRIE
Not to us.

Barrie suddenly flares up -

BARRIE
(yelling)
I won't hear of it!

MARY BARRIE
Why not?

BARRIE
Because... because you're my wife!

MARY BARRIE
(calmly)
That's no answer. You don't love
me.

BARRIE
(outraged)
Don't tell me whether I love you or
not. I'm telling you, I love you!

MARY BARRIE
If you really loved me, you'd care
a little for my happiness.

BARRIE
(angrily)
Of course I care!

MARY BARRIE
Then let me go, Jim. Give me a
divorce.

BARRIE
But a ... a divorce means scandal.
I mean think of Cannan if you won't
think of me.

MARY BARRIE
Gilbert and I know perfectly well
what it would mean, but we're
prepared to take the consequences.

Barrie hesitates a moment, visibly trembling.

BARRIE
(with finality)
Well I'm not.

Barrie turns and marches out of the room.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - MARY'S WORKROOM. 1909. NIGHT

Mary Barrie sits at a desk in her workroom, typing up notes
for the Censorship Committee. There is a sheepish knock at
the door. MARY reacts, but continues typing.

A pause, then the door opens and Barrie enters. His mood has
completely changed: no longer the autocratic husband, he is
filled with remorse and self-pity. MARY remains on the
defensive, uncertain of his motives. He clears a space on the
chair beside her and sits down.

BARRIE
(very quietly)
I've been thinking, Mary. I've been
thinking it all over. You're right,
of course - we never should have
married in the first place. I said
that at the time, but you wouldn't
believe me.

MARY BARRIE
Oh, I know it's my fault as much as
yours ...

BARRIE
It's not your fault. It's my fault.
I knew I should never get married.
I've known that ever since I was
old enough to know what marriage
was all about. I used to have
nightmares about it ... I used to
run in screaming to my mother's
room and tell her I dreamt I was
married. But she liked you. It made
her happy to see us together. She
thought you'd be good for me. You
thought so too, didn't you. Thought
you could change me. But I knew you
couldn't, and I couldn't change
myself. Did try, did try.

Mary Barrie puts her arms round Barrie, like a mother
consoling her son.

MARY BARRIE
Jim ... it's not your fault. It's
nobody's fault.

A pause.

BARRIE
You must marry Cannan. He's young.
He's got talent. He's a man.
(pause)
I'm just a stopped clock - though
even a clock gets it right twice a
day. I've never got it right in my
whole life.

MARY BARRIE
Nonsense, dearest - you're the most
successful writer in Britain ...

BARRIE
The richest, that's all. Cannan's
the success, and he hasn't got a
penny to his name.

Barrie smiles at the irony, then a thought occurs to him.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
How's he going to look after you?

MARY BARRIE
Oh, we can manage between us.

BARRIE
No, you must have money. I won't I
can't stand by and see my wife go
without. I must see you're provided
for.

MARY BARRIE
We wouldn't dream of it -

BARRIE
No, I insist. It's the least I can
do ... the least. And you must
think of the children. There will
be children, won't there?

MARY BARRIE
We hope so.

BARRIE
(beginning to break)
Well then ... I must see they have
the best ... they must have the
be... the be... the best... best...

Barrie breaks down completely, sobbing like a child in MARY's
arms.

INT. LEINSTER CORNER - STUDY. 1909. DAY

Mary Barrie stands by the window, talking to Cannan on the
telephone. In foreground, Barrie sits in his armchair, gazing
blankly ahead of him.

MARY BARRIE
(into phone)
... no, not until after lunch. No,
just the two of us - we're going
round to see Sir George at eleven.
(pause)
Yes ... yes, alright, I'll tell
him. No, of course not. Bye.

Mary Barrie hangs up.

MARY BARRIE (CONT'D)
(to Barrie)
Gilbert says he'll have the
Committee report finished by this
afternoon, so I'll bring it back
with me. He also wanted me to thank
you.

BARRIE
(vacantly)
Thank me? For what?

MARY BARRIE
Well ... for being so
understanding.

Mary Barrie gathers up her papers, then goes to the door

BARRIE
(flatly)
Give up Cannan.

MARY BARRIE
What?

BARRIE
I said, give up Cannan.

MARY BARRIE
But Jim - I mean I thought we'd
agreed -

BARRIE
We agreed nothing.
(imploringly)
Please Mary - I can't stand the
loneliness if you leave me.

MARY BARRIE
You won't be lonely. You've got
plenty of friends. You've got
Sylvia.

BARRIE
(bemused)
What's Sylvia got to do with it?

MARY BARRIE
Well, she's always meant far more
to you than I ever have. You'll
still have her, and if we get
divorced, then I don't see why you
and she can't ... well -

BARRIE
(affronted)
But Sylvia's a married woman.

MARY BARRIE
Jim - Arthur's been dead for over
two years!

BARRIE
That makes no difference
whatsoever! Sylvia is devoted to
Arthur, and I am devoted to her
devotion. I would no more think of
coming between Sylvia and Arthur
than I'd contemplate Cannan coming
between us!

MARY BARRIE
(floundering)
But Jim, I ... we've... I mean I...

BARRIE
Mary, I beg of you. Promise that
you'll never see Cannan again, and
I'll forgive you for everything.

MARY takes a grip on her position.

MARY BARRIE
Haven't you understood? I don't
want forgiveness. I want to marry
Gilbert, and nothing less than a
divorce will do.

BARRIE
(shouting)
I will not allow it!
(contemptuously)
Oh alright, run away with him, be
his mistress, do what you like. But
I will not grant you a divorce.

MARY BARRIE
(bracing herself)
I do not intend to be his mistress.
I shall be his wife, and there's
nothing you can do to stop me.

A pause, then Barrie suddenly lurches forward, almost
grovelling before MARY.

BARRIE
(desperately)
Please, Mary - please ...

MARY BARRIE
(pulling away)
I'm sorry Jim, but I've made up my
mind. If you won't grant me a
divorce, then I shall apply to the
court for an annulment.

BARRIE
(confused)
But... but you can't.

MARY BARRIE
(with quiet finality)
I could always say that our
marriage has never been
consummated.

Barrie looks stunned, at last comprehending his defeat.

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS. 1910. DAY

LONG SHOT: Barrie and Michael wander through Kensington
Gardens towards the oak tree where Barrie first met George.

BARRIE
... I thought we might put the
Peter Pan statue about here
somewhere. I gave Mr Frampton some
of those old photographs I took of
you dressed up as Peter Pan, so it
should bear a striking resemblance
to the Devil in you.

MICHAEL
(flattered)
Is the Devil in me?

BARRIE
Especially when you smile.

Barrie and Michael approach the base of the tree.

MICHAEL
Do you mind awfully, being dwarfed?

BARRIE
(indignantly)
I'm not a dwarf.

MICHAEL
No, I don't mean that, I mean
divorced.

A pause.

BARRIE
Perhaps over there would be better,
by that cave where I used to hide
things for George.

MICHAEL
Don't you love her any more?

BARRIE
(coughing)
I don't want to talk about her.

Michael slaps Barrie on the back to stop him coughing.

MICHAEL
You shouldn't smoke so much, it's
very addictive.

BARRIE
So are you.

Barrie sits on the gnarled roots of the oak tree while
Michael saunters about.

MICHAEL
(teasing him)
Not for always I shan't be. One day
I shall grow up - quite soon, I
daresay - and then I shall be just
'Like everyone else, and then
you'll get bored of me and find
another boy to love.

BARRIE
Did I get bored of George?

MICHAEL
You found me.
(pause)
Perhaps ... Perhaps if I got bored
of you first? That would be
amusing, wouldn't it.

BARRIE
Hilarious.

MICHAEL
Did Mrs Barrie get bored of you?

BARRIE
(sharply)
I told you, I do not wish to talk
about her.

MICHAEL
Oh, alright. But don't go and sulk.

BARRIE
I'm not sulking.

MICHAEL
Yes you are. I can always tell. You
go all moody, and that's really
boring. If you don't snap out of
it, I shall go home ...
(imitating Mary Hodgson)
... so you can please yourself.

BARRIE
Yes, nurse.

A pause.

MICHAEL
Anyway, what cave?

BARRIE
Hmm?

MICHAEL
You were saying - about a cave
where you used to hide things for
George.

BARRIE
Oh, that. Yes, Old Solomon's Cave,
leading to the fairies' Winter
Palace ...

Barrie points to the rabbit holes where George found the Pan
pipes. Michael takes a look.

MICHAEL
(airily)
All I can see ... are a lot of
rabbit holes.

Michael walks away from the tree, leaving Barrie alone.

BARRIE
(a sigh)
Heigh-ho.

MICHAEL
(calling, O.S.)
Come on, old crock - let's see if
we can't get you out for a duck.

Barrie pulls himself to his feet, plods after Michael's
leadership.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1910. DAY

Sylvia lies on the sofa, dressed in a black gown and wrapped
in her travelling-rug. Mary Hodgson is in attendance; so too
is Sylvia's mother, Emma du Maurier.

SYLVIA
(to Emma)
I'm sorry, Mummy, but I've made up
my mind.

EMMA DU MAURIER
I suppose we have Jimmy Barrie to
thank for this little brainwave?

SYLVIA
It was my decision, not his, and
I'm doing it for my sake as well as
the boys. London gets so stuffy in
August, and I wouldn't dream of
letting a little thing like this
stand in my way.

EMMA DU MAURIER
But dear child, you're ill, you...

Mary Hodgson shoots Emma a warning glance, but too late.

SYLVIA
Ah, so I'm ill, am I? At last! And
yet you've all been insisting that
there's nothing to be worried
about.

The door opens and Barrie enters.

EMMA DU MAURIER
(hurriedly)
Jimmy, would you please persuade
Sylvia to abandon this absurd
notion of going off into the wilds
of Devon for the summer?

SYLVIA
Mummy, I'm the one who decides what
I do, not Jimmy or anyone else, and
that is that.

Sylvia turns to Barrie and changes the subject -

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
(brightening)
Jimmy ... I had the sweetest letter
from George this morning, saying
you'd sent him some "topping
phizzes" of Dorothy Dicks and Lily
Langtry. He also said to tell you
that...
(looks for letter)
Now where is it, I had it a moment
ago...

EMMA DU MAURIER
Sylvia dear, can we not resolve one
thing at a time?

SYLVIA
There's nothing more to resolve,
Mummy.
(finds letter)
Ah, here we are -
(reading to Barrie)
"Tell Uncle Jim I played for the
2nd XI today and got three wickets,
so am consequently feeling rather
bucked." Then he says, oh yes - can
you send him a new pair of army
boots, size as he's grown out of
his old pair and needs new ones for
his Field Day. Also could you take
him down a few tins of ham when you
go down to Eton on Sunday as he
claims to be on the verge of
starvation - apparently you know
the sort he likes ...

EMMA DU MAURIER
Sylvia?

SYLVIA
Yes Mummy?
(to Barrie)
Oh, and do listen to this next bit -
(reading from letter)
"My newest pair of socks are an
absolute poem, such an exquisite
shade of blue, dontcherknow, and
very à la mode. Taken all in all, I
think I'm rather a coming chap, so
tell Uncle Jim to beware on Sunday.
I'm absolutely burning for the...

Emma DU MAURIER loses patience and leaves the room,
followed by Mary Hodgson. Sylvia's buoyant mood evaporates.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
(tailing off)
... for the holidays."
(pause)
Have you talked to Dr Rendel?

BARRIE
(vaguely)
Uh-huh.

SYLVIA
What did he say?

BARRIE
He said, if Sylvia wishes to go to
the country, then Sylvia must have
what she wishes.

SYLVIA
But what did the x-ray photographs
show?

BARRIE
(evasively)
Oh, you don't want to take any
notice of x-rays. I remember I once
had my throat x-rayed ... I think
it's now selling as a picture
postcard of the Swiss Alps.

Barrie sits on the corner of the sofa, pats her knee
reassuringly.

SYLVIA
Jimmy, you're the only one I trust.
What did Doctor Rendel say?

BARRIE
I've just told you, he...

SYLVIA
(interrupting)
It's cancer, isn't it.

BARRIE
Of course it isn't cancer ...

SYLVIA
(overlapping)
Then why's everyone being so
secretive? Why is dear Mummy making
such a fuss about my leaving
London? Why have I got to have a
nurse? Why ... oh, why can't
someone just once, Jimmy, just for
once treat me as an adult and tell
me what's wrong?

BARRIE
(patiently)
Because, Sylvia, they don't know
what's wrong.

SYLVIA
Of course they know. Rendel knows,
Mummy knows, Mary knows.
(smiles)
You know.
(laughs)
It seems that I'm surrounded by
loving friends who are all
desperately trying to avoid the one
word I long to hear.
(pause)
I sat by Arthur's grave the other
day and I whispered it, again and
again, until it sang through my
mind. Do you think I'm frightened
of dying?

Nico calls out from the garden Square outside.

NICO
(O.S., calling)
Uncle Jim!

BARRIE
(quietly, to Sylvia)
No. Not for yourself.

NICO
(O.S., calling)
Hurry up, Uncle Jim! Michael says
we need you to be a fielder.

BARRIE
(calling from the window)
Don't I have any choice in the
matter?

NICO
(O.S., calling)
Oh, no - Michael's already decided
for you. Come on!

Barrie looks at Sylvia, shrugs helplessly.

SYLVIA
(smiling)
Go on.

BARRIE
Heigh-ho.

Barrie leaves the room. A pause, then Sylvia gets up slowly
from the sofa, walks across to the window, and watches as
Barrie joins .the boys in a game of cricket in the Square.

SYLVIA (V.O.)
As I may die now at any time, I
should like to set down a few of my
wishes. I hope this house will be
kept up for the boys, with Mary
Hodgson - whom I trust with all my
heart - looking after them. J.M.B.
I know will do everything in his
power to help them, to advise, to
comfort, and to sympathise in all
their joys and sorrows. ...

EXT. ASHTON FARM APPROACH ROAD - DEVON. 1910. DAY

A horse-drawn Landau rumbles along a forest road. Seated in
the open carriage are Barrie, Mary Hodgson, Sylvia, and her
five boys: George, Jack, Peter, Michael and Nico.

SYLVIA (V.O.)
I do not want my Michael to be
pressed at all at work. He is not
very strong, and his nightmares
worry me, but he is sensitive and
very intelligent. Great care must
be taken with him. Mary Hodgson
understands, and of course J.M.B.
knows and will be careful and watch
him. I believe that all my boys
will become good and brave men,
seeing that they are Arthur's sons
and understand how very much they
were beloved by him and Sylvia, his
altogether faithful and loving
wife. ...

EXT. ASHTON FARM - DEVON. 1910. DAY

The Landau draws up outside an old, secluded farmhouse,
Ashton Farm, to be met by the CARETAKER. Sylvia is lifted
down from the Landau by George and Jack, and transferred into
a bath-chair.

SYLVIA (V.O.)
I hope from my soul that they will
all marry, and be tender husbands,
and have children, and live long
and happily, and be content to be
poor if it should be so. I do not
wish any of my boys to look at me
when I am dead. Let them remember
me at my best, when I could look at
them.
That must have been the best time
always, because I love them so
utterly. ...

George and Jack wheel Sylvia inside the farmhouse, followed
by Peter, Michael, Nico, Barrie, Mary Hodgson, and the
CARETAKER.

INT. ASHTON FARM - SYLVIA'S BEDROOM. 1910. DAY 86.

Sylvia lies in bed, reading over her Will. Barrie keeps vigil
in a chair by the window, making notes.

SYLVIA (V.O.)
I should like all my dear one's
love letters to be cremated with
me, and lie with me and Arthur in
the Hampstead churchyard next to
beloved Papa. I do not want any of
my boys to go to my funeral, nor do
I want it to be made into a long
and gloomy day for them.
(pause)
Of one thing I am certain: that
J.M. Barrie will always...
(correcting herself)
... that J.M. Barrie, the best
friend in the whole world, will
always be ready to advise my boys,
out of his love for ...

BARRIE (V.O.)
Death.
(pause )
Strange how everyone fears it
except the dying. Perhaps this is
the secret of the Mona Lisa's
smile? Release from the dungeon
world, return to freedom not known
since childhood.
(pause)
Child being born as mother dies?
Could work this into my ghost
mother story. They pass each other
in their different voyages, the one
landing, the other setting sail.
And which voyages with t he most
confidence, the dying or the child?
We are never so confident between
times ... It all seems so easy at
the beginning and the end.

The door opens and George and Peter enter the room, dressed
for a fishing expedition. Michael follows behind them, but
hovers uneasily in the doorway.

GEORGE
(breezily)
Hello, mother.

SYLVIA
(brightening)
Well! What a pair of dashing young
rakes!

GEORGE
Oh, tosh! We thought we'd go off
and do a spot of fishing down by
the mill ... see if we can't catch
that old bull-trout we saw
yesterday.

SYLVIA
Aren't Nico and Jack going with
you?

PETER
No, Nico's out playing with the
farmer's son.

GEORGE
(smirking)
And Jack's out playing with the
farmer's daughter.

SYLVIA
(laughing)
Well I always knew Jack had an
adventurous spirit - something they
obviously don't encourage at Eton.

GEORGE
Oh, indeed they do, mother - but
they also teach us good taste. Have
you seen her? I'd rather catch
trout any day.

While George and Sylvia talk, Peter surreptitiously snaffles
a handful of Sylvia's Nestor Egyptian cigarettes from a pink
box lying on the dressing table. Barrie's attention remains
on Michael, standing apprehensively in the doorway.

BARRIE (V.O.)
I remember how Michael once danced
to chapel bell tolling the funeral
of another child.

George leans forward and kisses Sylvia goodbye -

GEORGE
Bye, mother.

SYLVIA
Goodbye, darling. Bye, Peter have a
good day's fishing.

GEORGE
Bye, Uncle Jim.

George and Peter walk to the door, where Michael is still
standing.

SYLVIA
Michael? Aren't you going to kiss
me goodbye?

Michael moves hesitantly towards her.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
What's the matter?

Michael hovers by the bed, then suddenly puts his arms round
her. From Barrie's POV it is reminiscent of a scene from his
own childhood.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
(to Michael)
What is it, darling?

A pause, then Michael whispers to her.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
Oh, my Michael, there's nothing to
be frightened of. I'll be well
soon.

MICHAEL
Do you promise?

SYLVIA
I promise.

Michael turns away to hide his tears.

MICHAEL
Bye, mother.

SYLVIA
Oh, don't say goodbye like that.
Let me see my Michael smile.

Michael smiles weakly.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
That's more like it. Now off you go
with the others.

Michael still hovers, not wishing to leave her sight.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
(firmly )
Off you go.

As Michael leaves, Barrie sees what Sylvia cannot: the tears
running down his face. He closes the door behind him. A long
pause.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
(quietly, to Barrie)
Jimmy, can you pass my mirror.

Barrie passes the mirror to her. She holds it up to her face,
tries to brighten her complexion, straighten her hair, then
realises the futility. She lays the mirror by her side.

SYLVIA (CONT'D)
((with calm finality)
Don't let my boys see me again.

EXT. RIVER OARE - DEVON. 1910. DAY

Late afternoon. George, Peter and Michael pick up their
fishing tackle and the day's catch - six small trout - then
set off for home.

EXT. ASHTON WOODS & TRACK - DEVON. 1910. DAY

Michael sits on a tree-trunk by the side of a woodland track,
reading At the Back of the North Wind. Occasionally he
glances along the track to make sure no one is coming. A thin
wisp of smoke rises from the bushes beyond him, where George
and Peter are hiding.

GEORGE
(O.S., almost inaudible)
Now try again ... but you must draw
it in, right down into your lungs,
then hold it there - like I did -
for three or four seconds, then let
it out slowly, not all at once.
That's the style ... that's my lady
Nicotine!

Suddenly Michael reacts to something -

MICHAEL
(calling)
Ca-ve!

Behind the bushes, Peter splutters smoke from his lungs as
George hurriedly stubs out the cigarette.

GEORGE
Bugger it!

George and Peter duck down behind the bank as the rhythmic
sound of marching feet approach.

Presently a Company of HIGHLAND SOLDIERS appear along the
woodland track. The setting is almost the same as that at
Black Lake when George, as a small boy, had watched a distant
Company of soldiers marching along a similar woodland track.
Then it had been vague shapes in the distance.

Now the SOLDIERS are closer, though the wistful look in
George's eye remains the same. He lies flat on his stomach
next to Peter, watching the SOLDIERS as they pass by, their
feet marching through foreground between George and us.

As the last of the SOLDIERS pass, George skulks in parallel
with them through the bushes, followed by Peter and Michael.
They reach the main woodland track, the CAMERA HOLDING on
George's faraway gaze as he watches the SOLDIERS march away.

EXT. ASHTON FARM & HILL - DEVON. 1910. DUSK

George and Peter join up with Jack at a point where the track
rises over the brow of a hill. Michael walks on ahead of
them, deep in his reading. Beyond the hill lies Ashton Farm.
Michael reaches the brow; he looks up from his book, then
notices something.

Michael's POV: all the blinds are drawn across the windows of
the farmhouse. In LONG SHOT, Barrie appears in the porch, his
arms hanging limp, his hair dishevelled, wild-eyed.

MICHAEL
(a whisper)
Mother ...

Michael starts running towards the house, dropping his
fishing-rod and book as he runs. CAMERA HOLDS in LONG SHOT as
he reaches Barrie in the porch.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
(accusingly)
But she promised, Uncle Jim - she
promised!

Michael breaks down in near hysteria, banging his head with
his fist as if trying to wake himself from a nightmare.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
(barely audible)
Oh, Uncle Jim, say it's not true!
Please, mother, wake me up mother,
wake me up, wake me up, wake me up!

Michael looks despairingly at Barrie, then impulsively throws
his arms round him and clings to him.

INT. ASHTON FARM - SYLVIA'S BEDROOM. 1910. DUSK

The room is in semi-darkness. CAMERA remains in LOW ANGLE
throughout the scene, HOLDING on the lifeless figure of
Sylvia in foreground, lying in bed, arms resting by her side.

Presently a cry disrupts the stillness: an eerie, Banshee
wail coming from the stairs outside -

BARRIE
(O.S., crying out)
Ja-ck! No, Jack - please! She
didn't want you to see her ...!

JACK
(O.S., defiantly)
I'm going to see my mother!

BARRIE (O.S.)
No, Jack, I beg of you ...!

The door opens and Jack enters. He stands for a moment in the
shaft of light from the landing outside, then walks slowly
over to the bed. Barrie follows him into the room, carrying
Michael in his arms.

In foreground, Jack kneels beside his mother. He kisses his
own hand, then lays it gently on her forehead. Beyond, George
and Peter file into the room, followed by Mary Hodgson, who
holds Nico in her arms, shielding his eyes.

Jack lowers his head, as if praying, then notices something.

JACK
(simply)
What's this? This ring?

Jack indicates a diamond and sapphire engagement ring on
Sylvia's finger.

BARRIE
It's an engagement ring, Jack. I
gave it to your mother.
(pause)
Please Jack - try to understand.

Jack gets up, the tears brimming in his eyes. He starts to
back away - away from Sylvia, away from Barrie.

JACK
Oh, I understand alright.

Jack looks round at his brothers, standing somewhat
sheepishly in the background, then rounds on Barrie.

JACK (CONT'D)
Congratulations, Uncle Jim. Now
you've finally got us where you
wanted us!

Jack turns and marches out of the room. Barrie responds to
Jack's accusation with a deep, anguished moan of pain.

Beyond them, Mary Hodgson shepherds George, Peter, Michael
and Nico from the room, leaving Barrie alone with his
lifeless Sylvia.

SLOW FADE OUT.
[END OF PART TWO]

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS. 1913. DAY

[MAIN TITLES appear over a series of Kensington Gardens dawn
images, as at the beginning of Parts One and Two]

Barrie and Michael, now aged 13, stand beneath umbrellas,
looking up at Sir George Frampton's statue of Peter Pan,
newly erected in May, 1912.

MICHAEL
Doesn't look much like me, does he.

BARRIE
No, I fear something's been lost in
the translation. It doesn't show
the Devil in him.

Michael smiles as they walk away along the tow-path by the
edge of the Serpentine.

MICHAEL
You're going to miss me something
shocking when I go to Eton.

BARRIE
How do you know?

MICHAEL
Mary says so.

BARRIE
Oh, does she indeed. And what other
pearls of wisdom has Mary got to
offer?

MICHAEL
She thinks you spoil me. She says
my socks cost you twelve-and-six
... a pair.

BARRIE
Hmm. Well for her information - and
yours - I shall miss your socks far
more than I shall miss you. That
dazzling creature Michael has
already gone whistling down the
wind, but your socks are as
glorious as ever.

MICHAEL
I trust you're not becoming
sentimental?

BARRIE
At twelve-and-six a pair?

Michael laughs, CAMERA HOLDING as they walk away through the
rain.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1913. NIGHT

A large portrait of Sylvia hangs above the fireplace in the
darkened drawing-room.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dearest Sylvia,
Three years since those last days
at Ashton, and time again to give
you an account of the boys'
progress, though I am certain
enough that you have your eye on
them still, even in death. ...

Barrie sits at a small bureau at the far end of the room,
writing a letter.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
George is up at Cambridge, and has
now come to twenty years. When I
first saw him, I told you he was a
gorgeous boy, and long afterwards I
discovered that you thought I'd
been singularly happy in my choice
of adjectives. May all turn out as
you and Arthur would have wished.
It rests mainly with him, but I
like to try and help. ...

Barrie pauses as he hears an indistinct sound from somewhere
in the house.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
All the boys greeted my baronetcy
news with utter contempt...
(rethinks it)
...with heartless derision, which
naturally enough delighted me
enormously. Peter and Jack are both
away on training, and Michael is
about to start at Eton, so soon I
shall be alone again, with only
doodle Nico for company ...

MICHAEL
(calling, O.S.)
Come out!

Barrie reacts to the cry with anxious familiarity. He gets up
and goes to the door.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - STAIRS & LANDING. 1913. NIGHT

Michael stands at the top of the stairs in his nightshirt,
walking in his sleep and shouting at some unseen foe.

MICHAEL
Come out so's I can see you! You
shan't frighten me ... nothing
frightens me!

Barrie climbs the stairs towards him. It is a sight he has
evidently witnessed many times.

BARRIE
It's alright, Michael - there's no
one there ...

MICHAEL
(ignoring him)
Through the water, spinning water -
I can see him - yes, there he is -
Come out and take me!

MARY HODGSON (O.S.)
Michael?

Barrie reaches Michael, guides him back along the landing -

BARRIE
There, there, it's alright ...

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - MICHAEL'S BEDROOM. 1913. NIGHT

Barrie leads Michael back to his bed -

MICHAEL
White mists spinning in ... Can't
see him any more - all going misty
white ...

Mary Hodgson enters the room, a shawl wrapped about her
shoulders.

MARY HODGSON
I can manage, Sir James. He often
gets these nightmares.

BARRIE
(tersely)
I'm well aware of that.
(to Michael)
Come on, Michael - you're quite
safe now.

MICHAEL
Spinning mists, take me down ...
Can't swim - try - can't ... Deeper
down, down ...

Barrie guides him back into bed and tucks him in while Mary
Hodgson stands by, irritated by Barrie's apparent
encroachment on her domain.

BARRIE
(to Michael)
There we are, in we get. All over
now, it's all gone.

Barrie strokes Michael's forehead, and the boy closes his
eyes. A pause, then Barrie walks back to the door.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(to Mary Hodgson)
I think I'll sit with him for a
while - I'll just get a newspaper.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - STAIRS & HALLWAY. 1913. NIGHT

Barrie walks downstairs, followed by Mary Hodgson.

MARY HODGSON
But Sir James, I understood you
were returning to the Adelphi.

BARRIE
I can just as easily work here.
Besides, I like sitting with
Michael. I think he rather likes it
too.

MARY HODGSON
I dare say, but the boys are my
responsibility.

BARRIE
Our responsibility.

Barrie goes back into the drawing-room, leaving Mary Hodgson
on the stairs. She hesitates a moment, then reluctantly
returns to her own bedroom.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1913. NIGHT

Barrie collects a newspaper, and is about to leave when he
remembers his letter to Sylvia. He walks over to the bureau,
picks up the letter and takes it over to the fireplace.

Kneeling by the fire beneath the portrait of Sylvia, Barrie
tucks the letter into the flames.

BARRIE (V.O.)
The only ghosts who creep back into
this world are dead young mothers
returning to see how their children
fare. ...

CAMERA moves in on the letter as it catches fire,

DISSOLVING INTO:

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - MICHAEL'S BEDROOM. 1913. DAY

CLOSE SHOT: Michael asleep, lit by the early morning light
filtering in between the curtains. Barrie's VOICE-OVER
continues without a break from the preceding scene.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Would Sylvia recognise Michael if
she were to come back now? Michael
thinks I'm being sentimental,
doesn't see that the boy in him is
already dead; in its place: a
stranger.

Barrie sits in a chair at the foot of Michael's bed, writing
in his little notebook while observing Michael asleep.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
If Michael had died at twelve, he
would have stayed a boy forever,
just as David did.
(an idea)
Hmm. Could work this into my Mary
Rose story. Yes, mother dies, comes
back to look for her boy. She's
still as young as the day she died,
but her boy has grown up - she
doesn't recognise him, à la Peter
Pan and Wendy.

MICHAEL
(O.S., sleepily)
Uncle Jim?

Barrie glances up to find Michael looking at him.

BARRIE
Good morning.

MICHAEL
Was I at it again?

BARRIE
You were. Can you remember any of
it?

MICHAEL
Only you.
(pause)
Why do I have such nightmares?

BARRIE
Oh, it's a sign of great
imagination - one of the many
prices one must pay for genius. I
myself suffer from them constantly.

MICHAEL
(smiling)
I hope I won't get them at Eton.

BARRIE
You won't.

MICHAEL
Why not?

BARRIE
Because I won't be there to inspire
them.

Barrie pinches his toes at the bottom of the bed as Mary
Hodgson enters, followed by Nico, now aged ten.

MARY HODGSON
Good morning, Michael.
(a nod to Barrie)
Sir James.

NICO
(brightly)
'Morning, Uncle Jim -
(to Michael)
Mary says you were walking in your
sleep last night...

MARY HODGSON
Nico! What did I just tell you? Now
run along downstairs and help Amy
lay the breakfast. Come along,
Michael, you too - we've got a lot
to do if we're going to get you off
on time.

Barrie gets up, winks at Michael, then starts to follow Nico
from the room.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
(to Michael)
I've packed your overnight
suitcase, but I seem to be a grey
sock short. Can't find it anywhere.
You haven't seen it, have you, Sir
James?

BARRIE
No, no.

Barrie lifts his trouser-bottoms: he is wearing one black
sock, one grey one. Without further comment, Barrie coasts
from the room.

MARY HODGSON
(irritated, to Michael)
Come on, no dawdling. And don't
forget to scrub your neck.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1913. DAY

Barrie returns to his Adelphi Terrace flat, overlooking the
River Thames. A small hallway leads into an enormous panelled
study, filled with a sprawling assortment of chairs and
sofas, bookcases and shadowy corners.

The walls and ceiling are stained dark brown, and the only
light source is from seven panoramic windows, which give it
the appearance of a Captain's cabin on board a sailing ship.
A huge fireplace cavern, or inglenook, dominates one end of
the room, housing a threadbare sofa, a wooden settle
opposite, and a large mound of smoking ash between them.

Many of the objects in the study have been seen in Barrie's
previous homes at Leinster Corner and Black Lake Cottage, but
there are now many more photographs of Sylvia and her boys.
Three photographs in particular hang between the inglenook
and the main bookcase: George in his Eton Cricket XI, Michael
aged 12 fishing in the Outer Hebrides, and Nico in prep
school uniform.

Barrie wanders along the hallway and into the study, followed
by his manservant, BROWN, who wears the clothes and
expression of an undertaker.

BROWN
Mr Frohman telephoned from New
York, Sir James - he'll ring again
tomorrow. Oh, and the Editor of The
Times, to remind you about your
article on Captain Scott ... he'd
be grateful if you could send it
over some time tomorrow.

BARRIE
Thank you, Brown.

Barrie takes off his shoes, replaces them with carpet
slippers, then settles himself in an armchair as BROWN brings
him a whisky and the evening paper.

BROWN
I believe Mrs Brown has some
haddock prepared for your supper.

BARRIE
Er - no thank you, Brown.

BROWN
Very good, Sir James. Will you be
requiring anything further tonight?

BARRIE
No thank you, Brown.

BROWN
Then I'll bid you good night, sir.

BARRIE
Good night.

BROWN goes, leaving Barrie alone. He glances through the
paper, then deposits it on the floor and stares at his desk,
situated in the middle of the room. The study is in silence,
broken only by the faint sound of tugs hooting on the river,
and the distant chimes of Big Ben.

A long pause. Barrie waits for the last chime of the hour to
die away; then, with a heigh-ho sigh, he gets up and walks
over to his desk.

In LONG SHOT, Barrie sits down, searches for a clean sheet of
paper amid the debris, and starts to write, but without
enthusiasm.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(mumbling)
I've always had a passion for
adventurers, and Captain Scott was
no exception. He was also my
friend.

A pause, then Barrie screws up the sheet of paper, dispatches
it into the wastepaper basket, and starts again.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Almost every Briton alive feels
prouder these days because, er -
because of a scrap of paper, found
miles away in a snow-bound
tent; prouder because of what...
no, prouder because he knows that
the breed lives on ...

With growing frustration, Barrie consigns his second attempt
to the wastepaper basket. He glances round the room for
inspiration, then pauses, his attention caught by the
photograph of Michael aged 12, hanging on the wall.

He turns back to his desk, extracts a sheet of writing-paper,
and begins to write, his apathetic mumblings now replaced by
the intimacy of VOICE-OVER -

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Dearest Valentine,
I believe that when Daniel Defoe
was describing his desert island,
he was describing ... London
without Michael.

HOLD a BEAT as Barrie looks up, almost into CAMERA.

INT. SAVOY GRILL ROOM - FROHMAN'S CORNER. 1914. DAY

Barrie and George, now aged 20, sit at Frohman's Corner
Table, drinking coffee after lunch. George looks at several
snapshots of a Scottish shooting lodge, Auch Lodge, while
Barrie talks.

In the background, sitting at the table behind them, are TWO
ARMY OFFICERS.

BARRIE
But he's an Oppidan scholar - top
of his division - Captain of the
Under Fourteen-and-a-Halfs - more
prizes in one year than you and
Peter put together ... then why's
he so miserable?

GEORGE
Oh, he'll settle in yet.

BARRIE
Yes, but a year! You took to Eton
your first day.

GEORGE
I know, but then I'm not Michael.

BARRIE
That's what his tutor keeps saying -
if only Michael were more like
George.

GEORGE
Ah, but I'm an eternal optimist.

BARRIE
All lazy men are.

GEORGE
Well thank God he's not, otherwise
you'd have two abandoned young
debauchees on your hands instead of
one. I say, this Auch Lodge place
looks quite a spot. What's the
fishing like?

BARRIE
Excellent in August, if we were
going in June, and excellent in
June as we're going in August. You
know, I'm wondering ... I wonder if
his health isn't to blame in some
way - he's always been on the frail
side.

GEORGE
There was nothing very frail about
him up at Ammhuinsuidh when he
landed that salmon. If you ask me,
Uncle Jim, you worry far too much
about him. What date are we going
up to Scotland?

BARRIE
But he needs me.

GEORGE
Does he?

BARRIE
Of course he does, otherwise why
would he write to me every day?

GEORGE
(surprised)
Every day?

BARRIE
Every day.

GEORGE
And you write back to him?

BARRIE
Every day.

GEORGE
August the what?

BARRIE
August the first. Why, does that
strike you in some way?

George makes a note of the date in his 1914 diary.

GEORGE
(writing)
Yes, I think it does rather. And
I'm not altogether sure I think
it's a good thing.

BARRIE
Why not?

GEORGE
Oh, I don't know. When I was at
Eton, I was far too busy getting on
with my life there to get homesick.
It was hard enough to get me to
write to mother once a week, let
alone every day. And yet I'm sure
she preferred it that way. She
never was the clinging type.

BARRIE
I cling to no one against their
will.

GEORGE
No, but you have a way of bending a
boy's will. You can be like a Black
Spider to a trout when you want to
be.

George smiles affectionately.

BARRIE
(flattered)
I never hooked Jack.

GEORGE
You never wanted Jack. But you
hooked me - hook, line and sinker.

BARRIE
No no, it was you who hooked me -
you, and your depraved ways, and
your heartless smile. I could have
gazed at that smile all day, but
you used to wrinkle up your nose
and say, "Mr Barrie, why do you
look at me so?"

GEORGE
(lightly)
I should have kicked you instead.

BARRIE
You did. Very hard. But then you
were always kicking me.
(pause)
Always loved to be kicked by you.

Barrie touches George's wrist, smiles at him wistfully. There
is an almost perfect understanding between them, and although
George might be critical of Barrie at times, it is always
mellowed by a deep affection for him.

GEORGE
(glancing at diary)
Now if we're going up to Scotland
on the first, can I go off to Italy
for a couple of weeks in July when
I get back from Cambridge? Micky
Lawrence knows a friend we can stay
with near Venice.

BARRIE
Yes, by all means.

The HEAD WAITER hands Barrie the bill.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(signing bill)
Of course I'm fooling myself ... He
doesn't need me.

GEORGE
Oh, I expect he does. Uncle Gerald
says you've got Gaby Deslys to play
Rosy Rapture in your new review.
Have you met her yet? I think she's
an absolute poem!

Barrie hands the bill back to the HEAD WAITER.

HEAD WAITER
Thank you, Sir James.

BARRIE
(almost to himself)
He writes to me, but he's no longer
writing to me. He runs to me, but
he's no longer running to me. I can
tell. He seems to be running to me,
but he's actually running along a
road that is carrying him still
more rapidly in the opposite
direction.

George makes no response. His attention has been caught by
the TWO ARMY OFFICERS; he watches them as they leave the
Grill Room, the familiar wistful look in his eye.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1914. DAY

Barrie, Michael, Nico, George, and Charles Frohman sit at one
end of Barrie's Adelphi study, watching GABY DESLYS sing a
ragtime duet - Some Sort of Girl - with the song's composer,
JEROME KERN, at the piano.

Gaby is the phenomenon of her day, a French music-hall star
whose blatant sex-appeal and scandalous private life more
than compensate for her limited talent.

Frohman follows her performance from a script entitled Rosy
Rapture, Or The Pride of the Beauty Chorus. He has aged
considerably since his last appearance in 1906, and now has
to move about with the aid of a stick.

George stands behind Barrie, who is seated between Michael
and Nico. He is evidently captivated by Gaby's appeal, and
she in turn plays up to his admiring gaze, moving her body
provocatively and pursing her lips at him. Nico shares
George's enthusiasm, but Michael looks thoroughly bored.

George claps loudly at the end of the song. So too does Nico,
but Michael remains unimpressed, and goes back to reading a
newspaper lying on the ground at his feet.

FROHMAN
Tell me, Gaby, do you intend
performing like that in front of an
audience?

GABY
(pronounced French accent)
You do not like, Monsieur Frohman?

FROHMAN
Sure, but then I'm not the Lord
Chamberlain. He can be pretty
narrow-minded about your sort of
talent, and if you go performing
like that on a London stage, you
won't be needing a producer -
you'll be needing a lawyer.

GEORGE
I'll be your lawyer, Gaby.

GABY
Merci, Georges.

Frohman consults his script.

FROHMAN
Now we can skip the next bit of
business and go straight onto
"Which Switch...
(gets tongue-tied)
Switch Which?

NICO
(all-at-once)
"Which Switch is the Switch, Miss,
for Ipswich?"

FROHMAN
Or words to that effect.

GABY
Can we not have the bit of
business?

FROHMAN
But we don't have Leon
Quartermaine.

GABY
Peut-être Georges ...?

George looks eager, but a little shy.

NICO
Oh go on, George!

GEORGE
But I don't know the words.

GABY
You can read from Monsieur
Frohman's script.

Gaby takes the script from an amused Frohman and hands it to
George.

GEORGE
Alright, I'll do my best.

While George follows Gaby back to the piano, Barrie glances
at Michael.

BARRIE
What think you, O dour, dark and
impenetrable one?

NICO
(eagerly)
Topping!

BARRIE
I was referring to Michael.
(pause)
Well?

MICHAEL
It's not really your sort of thing,
Uncle Jim.

BARRIE
Perhaps you'd care to address your
complaints to the producer?

FROHMAN
Oh, don't look at me, Michael - it
wasn't my idea. But I must confess
that I share Nico's enthusiasm for
Mam'selle Gaby Deslys.

MICHAEL
She's alright, I suppose, if you
like that sort of thing. Personally
I'm a vegetarian.

Michael returns to his newspaper as George and Gaby continue
the performance.

GEORGE
(reading from script)
"Ah, Miss Rapture I presume."

GABY
"I'm so sorry to have kept you
waiting, but I was having a few
cherries."

GEORGE
"Quite so. All take ten minutes
while Rosy Rapture has her
cherries."

Gaby offers George her bag of cherries.

GABY
"Have one?"

GEORGE
"No.

Gaby puts the stalk of a cherry in her mouth and offers it to
him again.

GABY
"Have one?"

George is sorely tempted to take the cherry with his own
mouth -

NICO
(calling, O.S.)
Go on, George!

George goes back to reading from the script.

GEORGE
"Go on, you baggage, give them the
music cue."

Gaby smiles seductively at him.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
"What's that meant to be?"

GABY
"It's my Number Two smile."

GEORGE
"Who wants your Number Two smile?
Give me your Number Three pout."

Gaby pouts.

GEORGE (CONT'D)
"That's better. You can certainly
pout, my girl, but it's about all
you can do, so hang on to it."

GABY
That was very good, Georges - très
bien.

Gaby kisses George as Jerome Kern plays the intro to the
refrain of Same Sort of Girl. Barrie watches them.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Gaby telling me of her lovers - "It
costs so little, and it gives them
so much pleasure."
(pause)
George when a little boy in the
Kensington Gardens, holding my hand
and asking me what love was. Told
him then, couldn't now. How best to
advise him when I made such a mess
of my own marriage? Better not to
advise, let youth go its own way.

EXT. GLEN ORCHY & RIVER KINGLASS - SCOTLAND. 1914. DAY

A hazy, LONG FOCAL CLOSE SHOT of George, standing in the
River Kinglass in waders, fly-fishing for trout.

As George's voice LAPS OVER with an entry from his fishing
diary, CAMERA PULLS SLOWLY BACK to include first Michael,
then Nico, both fly-fishing from the river bank under the
guidance of their ghillie, JOHNNY MACKAY.

GEORGE (V.O.)
Sunday, August 2nd, 1914. A fine
and windy day, with sun till 4
o'clock. After lunch we fished the
Kinglass and had rather an after
noon of it. I caught 65 trout on
Zulu, Michael caught and Nico 15.

CAMERA PULLS right back to include Barrie in foreground,
sitting somewhat mournfully on the river bank by his worm
rod, writing.

GEORGE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Uncle Jim hooked one, but lost him
soon after, taking the fly and cast
with him; went back to using worm.

George's VOICE-OVER is replaced by Barrie's, writing his
annual letter to Sylvia.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dearest Sylvia, Four years now,
and once again I offer you an
account of the boys' progress under
my hopelessly inadequate
guardianship. I say inadequate
because no one knows so well as I
how irreplaceable a mother is to a
growing boy. However, I try as best
I can, and they are my main reason
for going on.

MARY HODGSON
(O.S., calling)
George ... Michael ... Nico, lunch
everybody!

The BOYS leave their fishing and join Mary Hodgson for a
picnic lunch. While Barrie's VOICE-OVER continues, Johnny
Mackay teaches Michael and Nico how to cook trout by wrapping
them in small parcels of wet newspaper, then putting them in
the campfire to cook till the paper burns through.

The scene is reminiscent of the picnic at Black Lake in the
summer of 1901; as before, Barrie is an observer rather than
a participant.

BARRIE (V.O.)
George has now come to 21 years,
and I think you and Arthur can be
well proud of your eldest born. He
had a long summer's day, and I turn
round and find he's a man. But oh
the man, and oh how I long to have
him with me at all times, helping
me guide the destinies of the other
four. He is such a comfort, and so
level-headed, yet such fun to be
with. ...

Barrie turns to see George lying on his back, one leg arched,
his head resting on his arm as he gazes up at the sky,
chewing on a blade of grass.
It is almost exactly the same image as the one Barrie
photographed at Black Lake, when George, aged 8, had lain on
the idle hill of summer at Black Lake. Though no longer a
boy, George's wistful, faraway gaze remains the same.

EXT. RIVER KINGLASS & BRIDGE - SCOTLAND. 1914. DAY 102.

George fishes on his own at the end of the day. The river is
very still, and the Orchy Bridge in the background is clearly
reflected in the water.

SHOOTING from on the bridge towards George, we see the
reflection of TWO MEN as they lean over the side and watch
him cast out into midstream.

Barrie, Michael, Nico, and Mary Hodgson approach from the
distance as George packs away his rod and gear. They are
walking along a narrow path next to the river.

LOW ANGLE: George joins Barrie and the others, walking under
the bridge towards CAMERA. They pass by in foreground, the
CAMERA tilting up and PANNING with George, then HOLDING as he
walks out of SHOT. In the background is the bridge, and we
now see that the TWO MEN leaning over the side are soldiers
in uniform. A brief pause, then they turn away and are gone.

EXT. GLEN ORCHY & RIVER KINGLASS - SCOTLAND. 1914. DAY

Early morning, and the BOYS have resumed their fishing higher
up the river, despite the wind and rain.

GEORGE (V.O.)
Tuesday, August 4th, 1914. A vilely
wet and windy day. Michael and I
fished the Kinglass in the morning
with trout rods. In the afternoon
we fished Michael's pool under the
railway bridge. I caught four
little chaps, Michael got 22. God!

Barrie shelters beneath the trees, continuing his letter to
Sylvia. Michael fishes a short distance away.

BARRIE (V.O.)
All the boys have outgrown me in
size, except for doodle Nico. Jack
and Peter I rarely see these days,
and it is Michael who is now the
real business of my life. He has
become more reserved than ever, and
I think few have suffered the loss
of a mother as he has done. He
continues to be persecuted by
nightmares, and I am in a constant
tremble when thinking about him,
which is ever a day and night
affair.

CLOSE SHOT: Michael, back-lit by the sparkling water.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It will be no surprise when I tell
you that he has the true stuff of
the poet in him, and my proudest
boast is that he rejects most of my
own literary efforts as sentimental
humbug. He and George are as
different as two brothers can be,
yet they are as vital to me as my
cough and my pipe. My constant fear
is that...

MICHAEL
(calling, O.S.)
Peter!

Barrie breaks off as first Michael, then George and Nico
abandon their fishing and run towards PETER, who has emerged
from the trees behind Barrie. He is now 17, tall and rather
gaunt, and is wearing his Eton O.T.C. uniform.

PETER
(to Barrie)
Hello, Uncle Jim.

BARRIE
(surprised)
Peter ...

Peter dumps a large kit-bag onto the ground as George,
Michael and Nico hurry over.

GEORGE
(to Peter)
We weren't expecting you till
Friday. How did you get off Camp so
early, you old dog?

PETER
We broke up as soon as we heard the
news.

BARRIE
What news?

PETER
Well surely you've read the papers,
haven't you?

BARRIE
We haven't seen a newspaper since
we got here.

PETER
Oh. Well, for what it's worth,
we've been at war with Germany for
the past twenty-four hours.

A moment of bleak silence. Barrie and George gaze at each
other with unspoken premonition. The silence is broken by an
exultant cheer from Nico, O.S. -

NICO (O.S.)
Hoo-ray!

A pause, then George turns slowly away and walks back down to
the river watched by Barrie. The SOUND of marching LAPS OVER.

INT. WINCHESTER RIFLE DEPOT - BROWNLOW'S OFFICE. 1914. DAY

The marching continues, emanating from the parade ground
beyond the window of a recruiting office. Lieut. Col. the
Hon. J. R. Brownlow, D.S.O., Commander of the 6th Special
Reserve Battalion of the King's Royal Rifles, sits at his
desk, handing a young RECRUIT an application form.

BROWNLOW
Right, fill it in, get it signed by
your father and post it back here.
Next.

The RECRUIT takes the form, gives a brisk salute and leaves.
Brownlow resumes some paperwork, and is still writing when
George and Peter present themselves before him. They stand
for a moment in silence, then George gives a polite cough

BROWNLOW (CONT'D)
(without looking up)
Well?

GEORGE
Well sir, we were told by Major
Thornton to come and see you about
getting a commission in the King's
Royal Rifles. Sir.

Brownlow looks up, but without interest.

BROWNLOW
Bungler Thornton at Cambridge, eh?
What's your name?

GEORGE
Llewelyn Davies, sir.

BROWNLOW
School?

GEORGE
Eton, sir. Macnaghten's House.

BROWNLOW
Eton, eh? Play any games?

GEORGE
Yes, sir. Fives Choices, and I was
in the Cricket XI. Lord's, 1912.

BROWNLOW
Don't seem to remember you.

GEORGE
Well actually I scored 59 ... and I
did pull off quite a good catch. A
high left-hander actually.

Brownlow becomes visibly more interested.

BROWNLOW
What did you say your name was?

GEORGE
Llewelyn Davies, sir. Well, just
Davies at Eton. George Davies.

BROWNLOW
George Davies ... but of course!
Yes, yes - I remember it well.
Fantastic catch, absolutely first
class. Why the devil didn't you say
so before?

GEORGE
I'm sorry, sir.

BROWNLOW
Well, with a record like yours, I
shouldn't have any difficulty in
getting you a commission. Here you
are - take one of these, fill it
in, get it signed by your father,
then send it back here. Mark it for
my personal attention.

Brownlow hands George the form.

GEORGE
Well, thank you, sir - very decent
of you. Actually we don't have a
father ... I mean he's dead. Will
Sir James Barrie be alright? He's
our Guardian.

BROWNLOW
(the penny dropping)
Oh, so you're one of the lucky
Peter Pan boys adopted by Sir
James?

Peter winces.

BROWNLOW (CONT'D)
Well, of course - Sir James Barrie
will do splendidly.

GEORGE
Thank you, sir.

George moves aside, and Peter presents himself. Brownlow's
genial attitude reverts back to cool indifference.

BROWNLOW
And what have you got to say for
yourself, m' boy?

PETER
Well, sir - actually, I'm his
brother. Peter Davies.

Peter delivers the statement as if this qualification alone
should be enough to land him a commission.

BROWNLOW
Ah, the real Peter Pan, eh?

PETER
(cringing)
No, sir - Peter Davies.

BROWNLOW
I see. Eton too?

PETER
Yes, sir. Scholarship actually.

BROWNLOW
Hmm. Bit of a youngster for this
sort of game, aren't you?

PETER
Seventeen, sir.

BROWNLOW
Well, let's see. I'm afraid you
won't be able to join your brother
just yet, but there's no reason why
you shouldn't start training.
(hands over form)
Fill it in, then send it back here
with your brother's.

PETER
Thank you very much, sir.

Peter salutes smartly, then turns and walks with George to
the door.

BROWNLOW
(O.S., calling)
Next.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - GEORGE'S BEDROOM. 1914. DAY

Barrie stands by the window in the background, reading to
George from a script entitled Der Tag.

In foreground, Mary Hodgson packs George's old Eton trunk for
the Front, aided by Nico. The room is adorned with school
trophies: Eton House Caps, Cricket Caps, group photographs,
etc., as well as photographs of Sylvia and Arthur.

BARRIE
(reading expansively)
"In the past, your Imperial Majesty
- but in the past alone lies
Britain's greatness!"

MARY HODGSON
(to Nico)
Where are the pyjama bottoms? I've
only got the tops. Look in the
cupboard, will you?

NICO
Oh lor! I hope we didn't pack them
in Michael's Eton trunk.

Barrie raises his voice to drown out Mary Hodgson

BARRIE
(reading)
And the Emperor says, "Yes, England
has grown dull and sluggish: a
belly of land, overfed, no dreams
to keep her alive. Britain's part
in the world's making is done. 'I
was' is her epitaph." And then Miss
Vanbrugh comes forward as the
Spirit of Culture and indites him:
"You are wrong, 0 Emperor. England
was grown degenerate, but you have
made her great again. She fought
you at Crecy, and Agincourt, and
Waterloo, with all her dead to help
her ...

MARY HODGSON
(to Barrie)
Excuse me interrupting, but I want
to explain something to George.
(to George)
Now these are for putting inside
your socks - I've packed you six
pairs - and these are for the
outside, so don't get them muddled
up. Oh, and the man at the Army &
Navy says you should stuff plenty
of straw in your boots.

BARRIE
Haven't you packed him any straw?

GEORGE
He's only teasing you, Mary.

MARY HODGSON
I know. Come on, Nico - some of us
have still got work to do ...

Mary Hodgson coasts out of the room, followed by Nico. A
pause, then George turns back to Barrie.

GEORGE
Is that it?

BARRIE
More or less. Why, do you think
it's too short?

GEORGE
No, no. Bit short on humour,
though.

BARRIE
The Prime Minister asked me to
write a stirring patriotic play,
not a comedy.

GEORGE
With all due respect, I think the
Prime Minister is wrong. But if you
must write a patriotic piece, can't
you write it on a sugar-lump? It'd
make it much easier to swallow.

Barrie flicks through the pages of the script, then dumps it
in the wastepaper basket.

BARRIE
Neigh-ho. There's another
consignment for the basket whence
no traveller returns.
(pause)
I don't know ... what on earth am I
going to do without you? I'll be
like the Titanic without the
iceberg.

GEORGE
(lightly)
You'll just have to grin and bear
it till I get back.

BARRIE
I suppose so. Not much grinning
though.

Barrie picks up George's revolver, lying on the bed, and
fingers it abstractedly.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Seems only the other day your
mother was taking bows and arrows
out of your hands and scolding me
for buying you penny pistols ...

GEORGE
Now don't start getting
sentimental.

George gently takes the revolver from Barrie, puts it on his
bedside table.

Barrie coughs in an effort to conceal his emotion.

BARRIE
I heard a story the other day from -
E. V. Lucas I think it was - about
a French general who asked for some
volunteers for some dangerous
mission or other, and the whole
Company stepped forward. So he
picked out three men and gave them
their orders. And they were just
setting out when he called them
back and said, "Since when have
brave men departing to the post of
danger omitted to embrace their
father?"

George looks at Barrie, but without comment.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Yes, well it's a bit sentimental
for my taste of course, but er
well, it's a good story.

GEORGE
They were French, after all.

BARRIE
Yes, I said so. But it's a good
story though.

GEORGE
Why did you tell it to me?

BARRIE
Because it's a good story.

GEORGE
No other reason?

Barrie coughs, turns away.

BARRIE
No, none that I can think of. Well
I'd better leave you to get
changed.

Barrie goes to the door.

GEORGE
What for?

BARRIE
Because ... Because I've booked a
table at the Savoy, so you can
kindly do me the honour of buckling
on your armour for the occasion.

Barrie pauses in the doorway, fighting back his emotions. He
turns and looks at George.

A pause, then George picks up Barrie's pipe from the bed and
aims it at him as if it were a pistol.

GEORGE
(very gently)
Face.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - STAIRS & HALLWAY. 1914. NIGHT

A ragtime gramophone record can be heard blaring from one of
the upstairs rooms. Presently George comes downstairs,
dressed in his brand-new Second Lieutenant's uniform. He
pauses in the hall to adjust his tie in the looking-glass.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1914. NIGHT

George enters the drawing-room to find Barrie talking to a
female visitor, her back to CAMERA.

BARRIE
Ah, George ...
(to the visitor)
Allow me to introduce you to Second
Lieutenant George Llewelyn Davies
of the King's Royal Rifles -

The visitor turns round, and George lights up to see it is
Gaby Deslys, dressed in an extravagant evening gown.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Lieutenant Davies ... Mam'selle
Gaby Deslys ...

GABY
Bon soir, Georges.

GEORGE
Gaby ...
(to Barrie)
But why didn't you tell me?

BARRIE
It was meant to be a surprise ... a
sort of going-away present, as it
were. Just ask for Mr Ferraro at
the Savoy - he'll take care of
everything.

GEORGE
But aren't you coming?

BARRIE
The table is for two.

GABY
Viens, Georges -

Gaby extends an arm to George to escort her from the room.

BARRIE
The taxi's waiting outside. I, er -
I don't suppose I'll still be here
when you get back, so I'll bid good
night to the pair of you.

George pauses in the doorway.

GEORGE
Uncle Jim ... you're a poem.

George winks at Barrie, then leaves the room with Gaby on his
arm. Barrie remains by the fireplace, the portrait of Sylvia
hanging above him on the wall.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - GEORGE'S BEDROOM. 1914. NIGHT

Mary Hodgson puts the finishing touches to George's trunk,
checking the contents against a list. She sees that something
is missing, goes to the chest-of-drawers and searches them.

In the bottom drawer she finds the missing item: a pair of
grey flannels.
As she takes them out, something drops onto the floor:
George's little red tam-o'shanter from the days of Black
Lake. She kneels to pick it up, her hands trembling, then
bursts into tears.

The door opens and Barrie wanders into the room. Mary Hodgson
hurriedly pulls herself together, wipes her eyes with the tam
o'-shanter and puts it back in the drawer. She takes the pair
of grey flannels to the trunk, folds them neatly and packs
them inside.

Barrie says nothing, walks across to George's bed, sits down
on it and stares aimlessly at the photographs of Sylvia and
Arthur on the bedside table. Mary Hodgson leaves the room,
not wishing Barrie to see her emotion. A long pause.

BARRIE (V.O.)
One-act play to go with Gaby's
revue might be about George's first
appearance in uniform of Second
Lieutenant, a new word to us. Scene
where his trunk is being packed for
the Front - mother flustering,
sentimental. Father also in a
shiver about his boy, but hides his
emotion from him as he knows it
will embarrass him. Wants to
embrace him, etc.

Barrie gets up and wanders over to George's trunk, surveys
the contents, gently touches the neat rows of khaki shirts.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Perhaps son feels the same way
about his father, but can't show
his fondness for him as it's "not
the done thing".
(pause)
Son leaves for the Front. End it
here?

Barrie notices a book poking out from under a pile of vests.
He takes it out, his hand trembling slightly, opens the
cover. The flyleaf bears the handwritten information:
George Llewelyn Davies, to himself.
December 9th, 1914.

Barrie closes the book: a recently bought copy of The Little
White Bird.

Barrie holds the book a moment, closes his eyes. A pause,
then he replaces it under the pile of vests. He closes the
lid of the trunk, which bears George's name in black paint.

The large letters "ETON COLLEGE, WINDSOR" are still visible
under the newer address, painted over it in smaller letters:
"4TH BATTALION RIFLE BRIGADE, 80TH BRIGADE, 27TH DIVISION,
B.E.F."

Barrie takes a deep breath, checking his emotions. In
contrast to his earlier VOICE-OVER, he concludes his notes
with a statement of cold fact, devoid of sentiment.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Play leaves us with certain feeling
that the father will never see his
son alive again.

SLOW FADE INTO:

EXT. KENSINGTON GARDENS & SERPENTINE. 1914. DAY

LOW ANGLE UPSHOT: The Peter Pan statue, fringed with snow and
silhouetted against a bleak, December sky.

GEORGE (V.O.)
Dear Uncle Jim,
I've got some spare time now from
the old trenches routine, so I'll
try and tell you a bit of what it's
like out here. ...

Barrie sits alone on a bench between the Peter Pan statue and
the Serpentine, huddled inside his overcoat and reading a
letter from George.

GEORGE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Last night I prowled round a ruined
chateau in the moonlight. It was
really nothing but a shell, with
all the rooms battered to bits.
There was a little shrine out in
the garden, practically untouched
by gunfire. On the altar, just in
front of the figure of Christ,
there was a Tiger Moth. In the old
days I would have caught the little
chap for my collection, but I
suppose the moonlight made me feel
a bit romantic. To a sentimental
fellow like myself, it had a rather
striking effect, and almost made me
forget I was a soldier.
(pause)
The fear of death doesn't enter so
much as I expected into this show,
so don't you get worried about me.
Of course there's always the chance
of stopping a bullet, but I am far
too timorous a man - and I am a man
now, I think - to run any more risk
than I must. Has Gaby's revue
opened yet? How I'm longing to see
it!
Your affectionate George.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1915. NIGHT

The vast, ship-like study is in semi-darkness, lit by a desk
lamp and the glowing embers of a log-fire in the inglenook.
The resulting gloom makes the room seem even larger than it
is, emphasizing Barrie's loneliness as he sits at his desk,
writing to George.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dear George, Oh, how I wish I
could have been on the prowl with
you round that ruined chateau,
though my own feeling about the
moon is that it was at its best at
Black Lake, because we had so many
lovely moons there together in the
old days. However, I trust your
best moons are still to come.
(pause)
Mr Frohman is sailing from New York
to help with Gaby's revue, which is
in sore straits without you. I only
wish you could be sailing home too.
I have sent you a few things from
Fortnum & Mason's in one of their
hampers, which should arrive within
the week. Your Uncle Guy is
fighting near Ypres, and thinks you
are only a few miles from him.
Wherever you are, I hope you see
near your bed the flowers I want to
place there, and a new book by
Compton Mackenzie which I read
aloud to you! I shall be so anxious
till I get another letter from you -
you should see how I plunge through
my mail looking for them, quite as
if I were the young lady!
Your loving
J. M. B.
P.S. How I wish I was your ghillie.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1915. DAY

Barrie sits next to Michael, listening to him reading
George's latest letter to Nico and Mary Hodgson.

MICHAEL
(reading)
... The Fortnum & Mason's goods
have just arrived - boxes and boxes
of them! We are a grateful party of
officers, and shall be in clover
for the next six days. We had an
awful tramp up to the trenches last
night, through a sea of mud. Oh,
Lord, it was muddy! I had to go
along behind, and by mistake I got
into a commu... comm...
(to Barrie)
I can't read it, commun ...?

BARRIE
Communications Trench -

MICHAEL
Communications Trench, which was
full of liquid mud and dead ...
dead Germans.

NICO
(impulsively)
Hoo-ray!

Michael flinches.

BARRIE
(to Michael)
Go on.

MICHAEL
(reading)
By Jove, when I get home I shall
never get up in the mornings at all
... I shall be frightfully idle!

Mary Hodgson laughs.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
On the whole then, dear Uncle Jim,
there's nothing for you to get
anxious about. It's an amazing show
but I take every precaution I can,
and shall do very well, you'll see!

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1915. DAY INTO NIGHT

Late afternoon. Barrie gazes out of the window with a look of
utter desolation. The letter that follows as VOICE-OVER
emerges over the course of several hours; it is a montage of
thoughts, articulated at an almost painful crawl.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dear George, We have just heard
that Mr Frohman was among those
drowned in the Lusitania outrage.
He was the shyest man I ever met,
and therefore my closest friend,
apart from you boys. But he had
reached a time in life when the
best things have come to one, if
they are to come at all, and he had
no children, which is, after all,
the best reason for caring to live
on after the sun has set. ...

Early evening. Barrie stares at a photograph of Frohman on
the piano.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
When they offered him a place in
one of the lifeboats, he refused,
with those words so lightly spoken
by you as a small boy: "Why fear
death? To die will be an awfully
big adventure." ...

Night. Barrie sits in the inglenook, gazing at the fire.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Of course I don't need this to
bring home to me the danger you are
always in, but I do seem to be
sadder today than ever, and more
and more wishing you were a girl of
instead of a boy, so that I could
say the things to you that are now
always in my heart. I don't have an
iota of desire for you to get
military glory. I just have the one
passionate desire that we may all
be together again once at last ...

The fire is almost out. Barrie now sits at his desk, writing.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
There may be some moments when a
knowledge of all you are to me will
make you a little more careful, so
I can't help going on saying these
things. I have lost all sense I
ever had of war being glorious. It
is just unspeakably monstrous to me
now. Your loving J. M. B.

SLOW FADE OUT.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - MICHAEL'S BEDROOM. 1915. NIGHT

The SCREEN remains BLACK for a moment, gradually FADING UP on
the darkness of Michael's bedroom. It is late at night, and
Michael is fast asleep.

Presently the front door can be heard opening and closing,
followed by another door being opened and movement on the
stairs. Suddenly the silence is shattered by a chilling,
Banshee wail -

BARRIE
(O.S., crying out)
Mi---- chae---- llll----!

A brief pause, then Michael opens his eyes, but remains
absolutely still. Barrie's frenzied cry is followed by other
voices and the sound of approaching footsteps.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(O.S., wailing)
They'll all go, Mary ... Peter,
Jack, Michael, even little Nico -
this terrible war will get them all
in the eee---nnnd!!

Barrie is so distraught as to be barely comprehensible.

Michael sits up very slowly, staring at the door as it swings
open. Barrie stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the
landing light beyond. He remains motionless a moment, a limp,
dishevelled, broken creature, clutching a telegram.

Barrie moves slowly towards Michael's bed, then sits down. He
turns to Michael, who already has tears brimming in his eyes,
and holds out the crumpled telegram to him. Michael looks at
it without taking it, then buries his face in his pillow.

In the background, Mary Hodgson stands in the doorway,
weeping. Nico appears beside her, bleary-eyed and shivering
in his pyjamas.

NICO
What's happened? What's the.....

Nico breaks off, intuitively knowing the answer from the
sight of MARY's tears. She clutches him to her as he too
bursts into tears.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1915. DAY

Peter, Michael and Jack (now aged 20) sit at a table, sorting
through a pile of letters and telegrams of condolence. Both
Peter and Jack are in uniform: Peter as a 2nd Lieutenant,
Jack as a Sub-Lieutenant in the Royal Navy. While Michael
opens the mail, Peter reads out the sender's name to Jack,
who notes it down.

Barrie sits to one side in an armchair, wrapped in his grief,
and takes no notice of the monotonous proceedings.

PETER
Irene Vanbrugh and the Cast at the
Coliseum. ... the Millington-Drakes
... Josephine Mitchell-Innes. ...
Gilbert and Mary Cannan. ... Mr and
Mrs Hugh Lewis, Eiluned, Medina and
Peter. ... the King and Queen at
Sandringham. ... Uncle Crompton and
Aunt Moya. ... Lloyd George ...
Thomas Hardy ... Aunt Gwen. ...

While Peter continues to read, Michael reacts to the
handwriting on an unopened envelope. It is addressed in
pencil, and bears a rubber-stamped crown with the words
"PASSED BY No. 2315 CENSOR"

Michael recognises the handwriting. He pauses a moment, then
gets up and takes the letter to Barrie. Peter notices the
action, but carries on reading.

PETER (O.S.) (CONT'D)
Elizabeth, E. V. and Audrey Lucas.
... Uncle Gerald, Aunt Muriel,
Daphne and Angela ... Pauline Chase
... the Management and Cast at the
Duke of York's ... H. G. Wells. ...

Michael hands the letter to Barrie and returns to the table.

PETER (CONT'D)
Lady Scott. ... Nina Bouci...

JACK
(interrupting, to Michael)
What was that?

PETER
(cautioning Jack)
Jack.
(continuing with letters)
Nina Boucicault. ... The Quiller-
Couches. ... Gaby Deslys. ... Hugh
Macnaghten. ... Roger Chance. ...
old Milky. ...

While Peter continues reading off the names, Barrie gazes at
George's handwriting on the envelope Michael has given him.
He hesitates a moment, then opens it with trembling hands. It
contains two little sheets of paper, written in pencil.

PETER (O.S.) (CONT'D)
Sir Arthur and Lady Ponsonby. ...
Golding Bright. ...
Charles Scribner. ... the Duchess
of Sutherland. ...

Peter's voice fades as George's LAPS OVER -

GEORGE (V.O.)
Dear Uncle Jim,
I have just got your letter about
Mr Frohman. You say it hasn't made
you think any more about the danger
I am always in, but I know it has.
Do try not to let it. I take every
care of myself that can decently be
taken, and if I am going to stop a
bullet, why should it be with a
vital place? But arguments aren't
any good. Keep up your heart, Uncle
Jim, and remember how good an
experience this is for a chap who's
been very idle before. Lord, I
shall be proud when I'm home again,
and talking to you about all this.
That old dinner at the Savoy will
be pretty grand! The ground is
drying up fast now, and the weather
far better. Soon the spring will be
on us, and the birds nesting right
up in the firing line ...

Barrie breaks off, unable to go on reading, and clutches the
letter to him. Peter's voice resumes in the background -

PETER (O.S.)
Fred and Katie Oliver. ... Maude
Adams. ... Denis Mackail. ... Will
Meredith. ... Aunt Gwen ... Maurice
Hewlett. ... A. E. W. Mason. ...
Johnny Mackay. ...

Barrie gets up and walks from the room without a word.

PETER (CONT'D)
A. A. Milne ... Charlie Tennyson
... Hodder & Stoughton. ... James
Robb ... Ellen Terry ...

Peter pauses as he hears the front door closing.

JACK
What was that all about?

PETER
A letter from George.

MICHAEL
I think I'd better go and ...

PETER
I think you better had.

Michael goes, leaving Peter and Jack alone. Peter turns to
the window where Barrie can be seen walking down the steps.

PETER (CONT'D)
I wonder if it's even remotely
occurred to him what we have lost.

JACK
I shouldn't think so for a minute.
Still, one can't help feeling sorry
for him, poor little devil.

Michael joins Barrie outside, puts his arm round him in an
effort to console him.

PETER
Michael's the one I feel sorry for.

JACK
Why Michael?

PETER
It's all on his shoulders now.

FADE OUT.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1917. DAY

SLOW FADE UP on the darkened inglenook of Barrie's Adelphi
study. The wooden settle is empty, the fire almost out.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Beyond the darkness is a great
ingle-nook, in which is seated on a
wooden settle a man of about fifty.
Through the greyness we see him in
the glow of the fire, trying to
read his newspaper. He is a
wistful, pathetic, lonely old man.

During Barrie's VOICE-OVER, the CAMERA PANS slowly round the
inglenook and out into the study. Barrie sits nearby at his
desk, gazing at the empty inglenook, as if picturing himself
in it. He has a pencil in his hand, a manuscript before him.

In the background, at the far end of the study, a young woman
is kneeling on the floor, sorting through a pile of papers.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
In the darkness, something happens.
A well-remembered voice says,
"Father". He looks into the
greyness from which the voice
comes, and he sees his dead son.
"I've come to sit with you a bit,
father. I say, don't be startled,
or anything of that kind." It is
the gay, young, careless voice of
old. "What's the matter, father?
Haven't you got over it yet? I got
over it so long ago. I do wish you
people would understand what a
little thing death is." "Tell me
how it is, Dick." "Well, it's like
a mist - a sort of veil that's
drawn between the living and the
dead. But when you've been out at
the Front for a bit, you can't
think how thin the veil seems to
get. I don't remember being killed.
I don't remember anything - till
the quietness came ...

Barrie pauses as MICHAEL, now aged 17, comes into the room.
He is wearing a fisherman's jersey and a pair of old baggy
trousers, unlike George's fondness for dressing as a "knut".

Nor is Michael remotely Etonian, though his manner is, on
occasion, inclined towards arrogance. In the words of his
Housemaster, "he never means to be rude, but he is too clever
not to see the weak points in others." He has a tendency to
disguise his extreme sensibility and reserve with a veneer of
laconic humour, and his moods, like Barrie's, are often hard
to gauge.

Instead of greeting Michael, Barrie takes his manuscript of A
Well-Remembered Voice into the inglenook and curls himself up
on the wooden settle. This apparent indifference is, of
course, only a facade.

Barrie watches Michael from the corner of his eye as the
latter strolls over to the woman kneeling on the floor - a
certain LADY Cynthia ASQUITH. Like Sylvia, Cynthia has an
elusive beauty that makes her look younger than her present
age of 30 - the same age as Sylvia when Barrie first met her
in 1897.

Michael watches her a moment as she sifts through a confusion
of manuscripts, letters, old photographs, and uncashed
royalty cheques. She appears to be trying to sort them into
various categories, one of which is a wastepaper basket,
already overflowing. The largest pile consists of letters
from Michael to Barrie.

MICHAEL
(to Cynthia)
It's about time someone threw them
all away. He never reads them.

Cynthia looks up with a slight start. They have evidently not
been introduced, but Barrie, tucked away in his inglenook,
makes no attempt to do so.

CYNTHIA
Hello.

MICHAEL
Hello.

Cynthia glances in Barrie's direction for an introduction,
but receives none.

CYNTHIA
You must be Michael?

MICHAEL
I have that dubious distinction.

CYNTHIA
(shaking hands)
I'm Cynthia - Cynthia Asquith.

MICHAEL
(shaking hands)
Uncle Jim's new secretary?

CYNTHIA
I have that dubious distinction.

MICHAEL
Well I should start by burning all
those letters.

Barrie calls out from the inglenook, but without looking up
from his script.

BARRIE
Lady Cynthia, I want nothing to be
touched if they came from those
bottom drawers.

Michael shrugs a smile at Cynthia, then wanders over to the
ingle-nook, picking up a drawing-pad on the way.

MICHAEL
(teasing)
They're only from me.

BARRIE
(to Cynthia)
Nothing's to be touched from those
bottom drawers.

CYNTHIA
Don't worry, I won't.

Barrie continues writing, or at any rate appears to do so.
Michael enters the inglenook, dipping his head to avoid
bumping it on the chimney beam, then settles down on the sofa
opposite Barrie, opens his drawing-pad and begins to sketch.

During the ensuing conversation, neither Barrie nor Michael
look up from their respective distractions, and each is as
nonchalant as the other.

BARRIE
(vaguely)
Where've you been all day?

MICHAEL
(vaguely)
With Roger.

BARRIE
Roger who?

MICHAEL
Roger Senhouse.

BARRIE
Do I know him?

MICHAEL
He came to dinner last holidays.

BARRIE
Can't say I remember him.

MICHAEL
He certainly remembers you. You
never spoke a word to him all
evening.

BARRIE
Didn't I?

MICHAEL
You know you didn't. Poor Roger
said it was the most terrifying
encounter of his life.

BARRIE
Poor Roger. But then all your
friends say that, don't they.

MICHAEL
The ones that don't know you.

Barrie shifts his position, well aware that Michael is
sketching him.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1917. DAY

Jack, dressed in Naval uniform, sits in the drawing-room,
impatiently waiting for Michael. Mary Hodgson sits at a table
nearby, contemplating her move in a game of L'Attaque, which
Nico (now aged 14) has temporarily abandoned in order to play
Jack his new jazz record.

NICO
(to Jack)
I just got it this morning - it's a
real wheeze!

Nico puts on the record, despite Jack's obvious disinterest.
The resulting blare deafens Mary Hodgson.

MARY HODGSON
Oh, Nico - must we? I can't
possibly concentrate with that din
going on like that.
(to Jack)
He's doing it on purpose because he
knows I'm winning.

NICO
Come on, Mary - show Jack how you
can Quick Step ...

MARY HODGSON
No, I'm ready to make my coup de
grace or whatever Michael calls it.

MARY is about to move her piece, but Nico intervenes, hauling
her to her feet.

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
(laughing)
Nico, unhand me!

NICO
Come on, don't be shy ... Jack's
dying to see you dance!

Mary Hodgson has no alternative but to join Nico in a lively
Quick Step, mercifully curtailed by the doorbell.

MARY HODGSON
Thank heavens for that! I don't
think I could have lasted another
minute...
(going to the door)
And take that thing off or I'll
bring my Gregory Powder out of
retirement!

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - HALLWAY. 1917. DAY

Mary Hodgson comes out into the hallway and goes to the front
door. The ragtime music stops abruptly, allowing Michael's
voice to be heard outside.

MICHAEL (O.S.)
I'm sowing the seeds of a career
such as Raphael, Velasquez, Lippo
Lippi, and other famoso
charivarios.

MARY opens the door and Michael enters, followed by an
Etonian friend, ROGER Senhouse.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
Vast intellects have begun eodem
modo, haven't they Mary?

Michael kisses MARY on the cheek.

MARY HODGSON
(lightly)
Have you two been drinking?

MICHAEL
I regret not. We stopped by the Red
Lion, but it was closed.

MARY HODGSON
Well just so we've both got the
same story, I told Sir James that I
forgot to give you the message.

MICHAEL
What message?

MARY HODGSON
About going to rehearsals for "Dear
Brutus".

MICHAEL
Oh, blast - I clean forgot!

MARY HODGSON
No you didn't - I forgot to tell
you.

MICHAEL
Bless you Mary.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
Oh, and Jack's here ... he's been
waiting here an hour to see you.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
(surprised)
Jack?

MARY points to the drawing-room door.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1917. DAY

Jack gets up as Michael enters the room.

MICHAEL
(warmly)
Jack! I thought you were floating
about in the North Sea somewhere.

JACK
I was, but I managed to get three
days sick-leave.

MICHAEL
Yes, well we all know about sick-
leave. Did you bring her with you?

JACK
Bring who?

MICHAEL
Your inamorata.

JACK
Who?

MICHAEL
Your fiancee.

JACK
Oh, you mean Gerrie. But we're not
engaged yet.

MICHAEL
(pointedly)
So I understand. Well, welcome back
to little old New Babylon. Have you
seen Uncle Jim yet?

JACK
Yes, I had lunch with him to talk
about Gerrie and things, but he
spent most of the time talking
about you.

MICHAEL
How fearfully dull.

JACK
Yes, it was rather. So was the cold
haddock.

Jack seems nervy and on edge, eyeing ROGER Senhouse, who has
remained standing in the doorway.

MICHAEL
Oh, I'm sorry ... Roger, this is my
brother Jack -
(to Jack)
Jack - Roger Senhouse, a friend of
mine from Eton.

SENHOUSE
How do you do.

Jack nods, but makes no effort to shake hands, and Senhouse
senses the atmosphere.

SENHOUSE (CONT'D)
(to Michael)
Well I, er - I think I'd better be
going. Don't forget "Boris Godunov"
tomorrow night. We have to be there
by six thirty.

MICHAEL
Yes, well I'll see what he says.
Why not ring me in the morning -
I'll be at the Adelphi flat.

SENHOUSE
I'd rather you telephoned me ... I
never know what to say to him.

MICHAEL
You say, "Good morning, Sir James -
May I speak to Michael." He won't
bite you - not down the telephone
at any rate.
(pause)
Oh, alright - I'll ring you.

SENHOUSE
Thanks. Goodbye, Jack ... 'bye,
Nico.

NICO
'Bye

Michael escorts Senhouse out into the hall.

JACK
(to Nico)
Hop it for a mo, will you.

NICO
Why?

JACK
I want a word with Michael. Please?

Nico shrugs, leaves the room as Michael returns, shutting the
door behind him. A pause.

JACK (CONT'D)
You know I really can't blame your
friend - the Little Baronet's
enough to freeze anyone's blood. I
don't know how you put up with him.

MICHAEL
I don't put up with him. I'm fond
of him.

JACK
I wish I could say the same. But
then of course you didn't have to
stand by and watch him trying to
take father's place, worming his
way into mother's affections.

MICHAEL
Oh, nonsense!

JACK
Is it? You were too young, you and
Nico - you didn't see what went on.

MICHAEL
George did, and he never resented
Uncle Jim.

JACK
No, well George always swam with
the tide. I'm not saying anything
against George - he was one of
God's own - but Peter and I were
always more independent, and that's
one thing the Bart can't stomach.
You just wait and see what happens
when you want to get married.

MICHAEL
Ah, so that's it.

JACK
(flaring up)
You're damn right it is! I mean
what right's he got trying to tell
us how to run our lives? He spent
most of lunch moaning on about
Peter living with this married
woman - Vera whatever-her-name-is.
Well if Peter wants to live with
her, why the devil shouldn't he?
And if I want to get married, why
the devil shouldn't I? It's time
someone told...

Mary Hodgson pokes her head round the door -

MARY HODGSON
Tea's ready.

JACK
(angrily)
Kindly don't interrupt!

MARY looks momentarily stunned by Jack's outburst.

MICHAEL
(interceding)
Thank you, Mary - we'll be up in a
minute.

MARY leaves the room, shutting the door sharply behind her.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
(to Jack)
Was that really necessary?

JACK
She's got no right interrupting
like that.

MICHAEL
She has every right. She's one of
us.

JACK
Not to me she isn't. It's bad
enough having to go down on all
fours to the Bart...

MICHAEL
All fours for what?

JACK
Permission to marry, of course.

MICHAEL
You're twenty-one, you don't need
his permission.

JACK
I know, but ... well, I want my
Gerrie to have the best, and I
can't give her that on a Naval
salary.

MICHAEL
Ah ... the money.

JACK
Just a few hundred to get started,
that's all. What's a few hundred to
the Bart? He's so infernally
wealthy it's like a flea-bite to
him.

MICHAEL
How long's he want you to wait?

JACK
Till the war's over - which could
be another twenty years the way
things are going. And of course
Mary and Gilbert Cannan breaking up
hasn't exactly confirmed his faith
in marriage either. Look, couldn't
you have a word with him? He takes
your advice on just about
everything, and if you tell him to
let us get married, well ... we can
almost start writing out the
invitations.

MICHAEL
I won't tell him anything, but I'll
have a talk with him if you like.

JACK
Thanks, old pal.

Michael considers a moment.

MICHAEL
Supposing he does agree. Where
would you both live?

JACK
Why here of course. I mean it's our
house, isn't it?
(sensing a doubt)
Oh, don't worry, Michael - you and
Gerrie will get on like a house on
fire - she's the absolute cat's
pyjamas!

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1917. NIGHT

Michael stands in the inglenook, chucking a cricket-ball from
hand to hand in a preoccupied fashion. Barrie stands nearby,
puffing hard on his pipe, deep in thought.

BARRIE
Well I suppose ... yes, I suppose
they could always live round at
Campden Hill Square.

MICHAEL
I don't think that would work, not
with Mary there.

BARRIE
Oh?

MICHAEL
She and Jack don't exactly see eye
to eye, you know that. And besides,
there wouldn't really be room once
Jack starts a family.

BARRIE
But you're hardly ever there,
except in the holidays.

MICHAEL
Couldn't you buy them a house as a
wedding present?

Barrie ponders a moment, then brightens as an idea dawns.

BARRIE
Wait a minute ... yes, I think I
have the perfect solution. Why
don't you come and live here?
There's plenty of room for you -
and Nico. We could turn the spare
bedroom into a Billiards Room ...
you could even have your own study!

Michael looks less than enthusiastic, but makes no comment.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - LANDING & LIFT. 1917. DAY

Jack emerges from the lift-cage opposite the front-door to
Barrie's flat, accompanied by his fiancee, GERALDINE GIBB, a
rather shy but exceedingly pretty nineteen-year-old. Both she
and Jack have dressed up for their forthcoming ordeal.

JACK
Now the main thing is, don't look
nervous.

GERRIE
I'm not nervous.

JACK
Just keep your fingers crossed that
the Bart's in a good mood. God, but
I'd rather face the whole German
Navy if it wasn't for my Gerrie.

Jack presses the doorbell.

JACK (CONT'D)
And remember - don't be nervous.

GERRIE
I'm not nervous.

JACK
(not listening)
And don't forget, he's very shy -
so don't think he doesn't like you
just because he doesn't smile. He
never smiles.

BROWN opens the front door -

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - ENTRANCE HALL & STUDY. 1917. DAY

Jack enters the flat, followed by Gerrie.

JACK
Evening, Brown.

BROWN
Good evening, Jack ... Miss Gibb.

GERRIE
Good evening, Brown.

BARRIE
(calling, O.S.)
Jack ... Come on in.

Jack and Gerrie walk along the short entrance hall to be met
by Barrie in the study.

JACK
(stiffly)
Hello, Uncle Jim. This is, er -
this is Miss Geraldine Gibb.
Gerrie, this is Sir James Barr...
well, Uncle Jim.

GERRIE
How do you do.

Barrie extends a hand to Gerrie, making the most of his role.

BARRIE
Well, well. I always knew there was
one matter on which Jack could make
no mistake, and I'm delighted to
see that my judgement was right.

Jack seems slightly taken aback by Barrie's benevolent
attitude.

Michael stands behind Barrie, preoccupied and moody.

JACK
(to Gerrie)
And this is my brother Michael.

GERRIE
How do you do, Michael.

MICHAEL
How do you do.

While Barrie talks to Gerrie, escorting her to one side, Jack
moves across to Michael.

JACK
(aside)
I say, are things as rosy as they
look?

MICHAEL
They are for some.

Barrie calls across to Michael -

BARRIE
Michael? Could you telephone the
Savoy and book a table for us?

Michael nods without enthusiasm, goes across to the desk,
picks up the telephone. In the background, Barrie talks to
BROWN -

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Oh, Brown - would you tell Mrs
Brown that we'll be dining out
after all?

BROWN
Very good, Sir James.

MICHAEL
Hello, Operator? Could you get me
the Savoy Grill please?
(pause)
Good evening, I'm calling on behalf
of Sir James Barrie to reserve his
usual table for eight o'clock.

In foreground, Michael hangs up, CAMERA HOLDING on him as
Barrie turns to Jack and Gerrie.

BARRIE
Well now, I've been giving a little
thought to the matter of - er - to
the matter of which we spoke, and I
think I've come up with a solution.

While Barrie talks, BROWN passes round the drinks.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(taking whisky)
Thank you, Brown.

Barrie raises his glass to Jack and Gerrie, eyeing Michael's
despondent mood but pretending to ignore it.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(toasting)
Well now ... Here's how.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1917. DAY

Mary Hodgson stands by the fireplace, trembling with anger as
she clutches a note in Barrie's handwriting. Michael stands
close by, trying to pacify her.

MARY HODGSON
How dare he!

MICHAEL
Please, Mary - try and make it
work, for my sake if for no one
else's ...

MARY HODGSON
I'd do anything for you, Michael -
but not this. I've run this house
on your mother's instructions since
the day she died, and I'm not
prepared to start taking orders
from Jack's wife or anyone else -
and that includes Sir James Barrie!
(reading letter)
"Mrs Davies will now be in charge
of Campden Hill Square, and I
expect you to work to her
instructions ... There's only one
Mrs Davies I serve, and that's Mrs
Arthur!

MARY indicates the painting of Sylvia above the fireplace

MICHAEL
Look, Mary, they're going to be
here any minute ... won't you at
least make an effort?

MARY HODGSON
Why should I make an effort? When
has Sir James ever made an effort
for me?

MICHAEL
He does care for you, Mary - in his
own queer way he does care.

MARY HODGSON
Well he's got a mighty queer way of
showing it! Of course he doesn't
care. He resents me, always has
done ever since he first set eyes
on me in Kensington Gardens. I
always stood between him and you
boys - yes, and stood up to him
too!
(waves letter)
Why didn't he come and tell me all
this to my face? I'll tell you why -
he wouldn't dare, for fear of what
I'd tell him. Yes, and there's many
a home truth I could tell him that
would find its mark ...

The front doorbell rings, O.S., but MARY ignores it -

MARY HODGSON (CONT'D)
He might be the most successful
writer in the country, but to me
he's nothing more than a self
centred little...

NICO
(calling, O.S.)
Come on, they're here!

Nico (now aged 14) pokes his head round the door -

MICHAEL
All right, Nico - we're coming.

Nico disappears and Michael turns to MARY.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
Mary - I beg of you. Tread care-
fully.

Michael kisses MARY on the cheek as Jack enters the room,
followed by Nico and Gerrie.

JACK
(cheerily)
Now then, Mary - no getting away
from it this time, eh? I'd like you
to meet my wife, Gerrie -

Jack beckons Gerrie forward -

JACK (CONT'D)
Gerrie, this is Mary Hodgson, our
altogether faithful and loving
nurse ...

GERRIE
(pleasantly)
Hello, Mary - I've heard so much
about you from...

As Gerrie comes forward to shake hands, Mary Hodgson marches
straight past and out of the room. Jack storms out after her -

JACK
(shouting)
Mary!

CAMERA HOLDS on Michael as he lowers his head.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1918. DAY 123.

Barrie sits at his desk, writing a letter. In the background,
Cynthia ASQUITH hangs up her hat and coat in the hallway.

CYNTHIA
Morning.

BARRIE
(without looking up)
Morning, Cynthia.

Barrie continues writing in foreground.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(voice-over)
My dear Mary, As I think you find
it easier, I am answering your note
with another. I suppose I must
accept your resignation very
sorrowfully as the wisest step in
circumstances that are very
difficult. ...

Cynthia enters the room beyond, then looks behind her.

CYNTHIA
(coaxingly)
Come on ...

A little boy, Michael Asquith (aged 4) hovers in the doorway.

CYNTHIA (CONT'D)
Come on, Michael - there's nothing
to be afraid of ...

As Barrie hears the name Michael, he looks round to see
Cynthia's son.

CYNTHIA (CONT'D)
(to Barrie)
I brought my Michael along this
morning to help me lick the
envelopes and stick on stamps. You
don't mind, do you?

BARRIE
No, no.

Michael Asquith follows his mother to her desk at the far end
of the study. Barrie credits the boy with a passing glance,
then continues his letter to Mary Hodgson.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
No one knows what -
(crosses out)
No one knows, no one could know so
well as myself, what you have been
to the boys, except indeed the boys
themselves, particularly Michael -

The name Michael again prompts Barrie to glance at Michael
Asquith -

-- who is, in turn, looking at him. Barrie slowly raises one
eyebrow at him - the same trick he used on George to first
captivate him.

Michael Asquith grins, nudges Cynthia, but by the time she
looks up, Barrie has returned to his writing.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
... particularly Michael and
Nicholas, who came into our hands
when they were so very young. I
earnestly hope that you will
continue to see them in future, and
be their friend throughout life.

Cynthia shows Michael how to stick stamps onto envelopes, but
the boy is more interested in Barrie, who is again raising an
eyebrow at him. As Barrie's VOICE-OVER continues, he beckons
to Michael, who walks over to him.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
As Jack's ship is based in
Edinburgh, he and his wife are to
rent a house there for the duration
of the war. I have therefore
decided to sell Campden Hill
Square, and the proceeds will be
divided up among the boys. ...

MICHAEL ASQUITH
(O.S., overlapping)
Are you writing a story?

Barrie looks up to find Michael Asquith standing by him.

BARRIE
Well ... before the war - which is
my new way of saying 'Once upon a
time' - I could write any number.
But now I've forgotten the way.

MICHAEL ASQUITH
I can tell stories. Lots of them

BARRIE
Can you indeed.

MICHAEL ASQUITH
Yes ...
(points at envelope)
Can I lick it for you?

Barrie hands him the envelope.

BARRIE
You can.

Michael licks down the envelope, despite there being no
letter inside.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(nonchalantly)
Good stories?

MICHAEL ASQUITH
(cockily)
Course they are.

Barrie offers Michael another empty envelope to lick down.

MIX TO:

Cynthia works at her desk, answering a pile of letters.
Presently she looks up to see that Michael has consumed
several dozen envelopes, and has a stack of shillings to his
credit.

In CLOSER SHOT, Barrie waits with baited breath.

BARRIE
And?

Michael holds out his hand, and Barrie gives him another
shilling and an envelope.

MICHAEL ASQUITH
Well then he hears it coming up
behind him ... tick-tock, tick-
tock, tock-tick ...
(licks envelope)
... and course he thinks it's the
crock coming to get him, but it's
not really the crock at all. Shall
I tell you who it is?

BARRIE
You shall.

Barrie hands over another shilling and an envelope.

MICHAEL ASQUITH
Thank you.
(licks envelope)
I'll tell you who it is ... it's
Peter Pan!

BARRIE
(astounded)
It's not!

MICHAEL ASQUITH
Yes it is. You see clever Peter
thinks that if Captain Hook can...

CYNTHIA
(calling across)
Come along, Michael, and leave Sir
James to work.

MICHAEL ASQUITH
But I'm telling him a story ...

CYNTHIA
Do as you're told and come along.

Barrie shrugs apologetically at Michael.

BARRIE
Heigh-ho ...
(hands him money)
You can tell me the rest next time.

Michael gathers up his earnings and reluctantly walks back to
Cynthia. With equal reluctance, Barrie resumes his letter.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Michael and Nicholas are coming to
live here with me at the Adelphi,
though Michael will soon be joining
up to fight. You can imagine how I
tremble at the thought, but I only
fall into line with ... with so
many mothers. ...

Barrie pauses a moment, as if reflecting on the notion. His
right hand seems to be causing him some pain;
being ambidextrous, he switches to his left hand to finish
the letter. Despite the poetic sentiment, there is an
insincerity in Barrie's tone as he rattles through to the
end.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
These are days of such universal
suffering that we need the courage
of flowers to go on as usual, and
we, er ...
(all in one breath)
... we're all part of a darkened
world yours sincerely J.M.B.

Barrie scrawls the final "J.M.B." and chucks the pencil aside
in one continuous movement. A pause, then he looks up at
Michael Asquith, winks at him.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - MICHAEL'S BEDROOM. 1918. DAY

Michael's bedroom has been stripped bare of furniture and car-
pets, reminiscent of the empty nursery at Egerton House.

Michael stands in the doorway, gazing at the bits of rubbish
scattered about the floor.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - LANDING & STAIRS. 1918. DAY

Michael walks slowly downstairs, preoccupied and dejected.

As he reaches the hallway, stacked with tea-chests, ROGER
Senhouse emerges from the drawing-room, holding a few of
Michael's drawings.

SENHOUSE
I found these lying on the floor in
there.

Michael shrugs without reply.

INT. 23 CAMPDEN HILL SQUARE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1918. DAY

Michael wanders into the empty drawing-room, glances across
at the wall above the fireplace where the portrait of Sylvia
once hung.

There is now only a ghostly rectangle of white, surrounded by
the darker, faded wallpaper.

A pause, then Senhouse enters the room behind Michael.

SENHOUSE
I suppose I ought to feel sorry for
you. But I don't. You should never
have given in to him.

MICHAEL
Didn't have much choice.

SENHOUSE
Of course you did. I know how you
can fight when you want something
badly enough. You've got a will-
like adamant, but when it comes to
J.M.B., you let him lead you like a
lamb to the slaughter.

MICHAEL
Why should you care.

SENHOUSE
Because I'm fond of you.

MICHAEL
So is Uncle Jim.

SENHOUSE
He only cares about himself. If he
really loved you, he'd let you go
instead of suffocating you.

Michael dismisses the remark with a contemptuous mutter.

SENHOUSE (CONT'D)
You don't need him - you've got
all the makings of a genius...

MICHAEL
(overlapping him)
Rubbish ...

SENHOUSE
Hugh Macnaghten says you're the
most talented boy he's ever had at
Eton ...

MICHAEL
I wouldn't go by him ... but even
if he's right - which I seriously
question - might not some of it be
due to Uncle Jim?

SENHOUSE
I doubt it. You're a talented
family - George du Maurier,
Crompton, Theodore ...

Michael walks away from Senhouse -

SENHOUSE (CONT'D)
Barrie's no genius - except at
making pots of money.
He's just got a good nose for third
rate public taste, that's all.

Michael turns on him -

MICHAEL
Uncle Jim's writing may not be
everyone's cup of tea, but third
rate he is not. Nor second-rate.
Nor first-rate. He stands alone.
Unlike your Bloomsbury friends, he
owes nothing to any other writer or
any other school. That, in my
humble opinion, is true genius, and
is not to be belittled by the
fashionable opinions of you and me.

SENHOUSE
I thought you didn't like his
plays.

MICHAEL
It's Uncle Jim I love, not J. M.
Barrie

SENHOUSE
Well I for one think he's a morbid
little man, and the sooner you
break away from him the better.
It's an unhealthy relationship -
and I'm not the only one who thinks
so.

MICHAEL
What's so unhealthy about it?

SENHOUSE
I don't exactly know, but it ..
well it goes beyond the bounds of
ordinary affection.

Michael smiles, turns away and looks out of the window.

MICHAEL
Would you call our affection
ordinary? Yours and mine for each
other?

SENHOUSE
(hesitantly)
Well I ... Yes - yes, I would.

MICHAEL
How dull we must be, you and I.
(pause)
Yes, you're right.
Uncle Jim's love for me does go
beyond the bounds of ordinary
affection.

Michael turns and looks Senhouse in the eye.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
And so does my love for him.

INT. SAVOY GRILL - FROHMAN'S CORNER. 1919. NIGHT

CLOSE SHOT: A plaque on one of the pillars of the Savoy Grill
commemorating Charles Frohman:
IN MEMORY OF
CHARLES FROHMAN
THE MAN WHO NEVER BROKE HIS WORD
1860-1915
ERECTED BY HIS FRIEND J. M. Barrie
TO COMMEMORATE THE MANY HOURS
SPENT TOGETHER AT THIS TABLE

Barrie and Peter sit together at Frohman's table. Peter is
but a shattered remnant of his former self, still suffering
from shell-shock - "little more than a ghost who had come
through the furnace."

Both Peter and Barrie sit for a while in silence, gazing
vacantly at the gaiety around them. Although the war is now
over, Peter is dressed in Army uniform.

BARRIE
How we've all wished to live on to
see what peace would be like. But
what is it like? Very silent it
seems to me, now that we realise
the dead are not just dead for the
duration of the war. I still dream
about George you know.

PETER
(a touch of sarcasm)
Yes ... so I read in The Times.

BARRIE
The Times?

PETER
The play you wrote about him. I
read the review.

BARRIE
Oh, that.

A pause. Peter finishes a large glass of cognac.

PETER
I'm afraid I can't share your
sentiments about death, Uncle Jim.
You write about dying as if it were
a love affair. You wouldn't think
that if you'd been out there, among
all the slime, and bodies, and bits
of bodies. "To die will be an
awfully big adventure" ... you
think it was an adventure for
George? Drifting through that misty
veil of yours? Is that how you
think George died? Well ... at
least there's comfort in the lie I
suppose - and bugger it all, I'm
sure George is past caring. Perhaps
I'm a romantic too - I'd give
anything to change places with him.

Barrie lays his hand gently on Peter's wrist.

BARRIE
I so want to help you, Peter. Won't
you come back and live with us?

PETER
What you need is a constant
companion, and I can never be that.
Besides, you already have one.

BARRIE
Michael? Oh, no - he's already
growing out of me, I'm well aware
of that.

PETER
I meant George. You've got him
where you want him, can't you see
that? He'll never grow away from
you now.

BARRIE
(shocked)
You really think that I... that I
wouldn't give everything to have
him back ...?

PETER
Yes, I think you would. But I think
you'd be wrong. George is closer to
you now than he ever could have
remained in life ... and will
become more so as time goes by.

Barrie reflects the thought subjectively ... then a glint in
his eye, and the notion becomes objective: a theme for story.

BARRIE
And what about us? Can't we become
closer too?

PETER
I think we're already closer than
either of us realise.

Peter extends a hand in friendship, but Barrie's mind is
already elsewhere.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Why is my heart not broken? If I
had been a man of any real feeling,
my heart would have broken long
ago, just as Mother's did. I have
passed through the Valley of the
Shadow, but have come out into the
sunlight again. I suppose it is all
to the good that as the years go
by, the dead should recede farther
from us ...

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1919. NIGHT

SHOOTING from inside the darkened inglenook from the unseen
Barrie's POV, gazing out at the empty study.

BARRIE (V.O.)
... Mary Rose belongs to the past,
and even if we could drag her back,
I think it would be wrong. No one
should ever come back from the
dead, however much they have been
loved.

OVERLAPPED with Barrie's VOICE-OVER, we hear the lift gates
opening and closing, voices and laughter as Michael and
Senhouse enter the study.

CAMERA remains inside the inglenook, watching Michael and
Senhouse in LONG SHOT. Michael turns on the lights, goes to
the far end of the study, followed by Senhouse. Both boys are
wearing 'L' plates around their necks.

MICHAEL
(barely audible)
... but did you see the look on
that woman with the pram?! I'd say
she was going faster than we were.
Not feeling too shaken up, are you?

SENHOUSE
It's only the third time I've ever
been on a motor-bike.

MICHAEL
(laughing)
Really? It was my second. You look
as if you could do with a drink.

SENHOUSE
Couldn't we have one down at The
Anchor?

MICHAEL
I said I'd do some work with Uncle
Jim, and he'll be back from dinner
any minute.

CAMERA continues to observe Michael and Senhouse from the
inglenook. Michael goes to a drink cabinet while Senhouse
glances about the study, clearly uncomfortable.

SENHOUSE
Gives me the creeps, this place -
like being cooped up in a
mausoleum. Can I put on a record?

Michael points to a pile of records with a nod while he
extracts a bottle of wine from the wine-rack.

MICHAEL
Chateau Le Crock, 1912 ... that
should cauterise your tonsils.

Michael uncorks the bottle as Senhouse puts on a jazz record -
My Baby's Arms.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
What a hideous noise.

SENHOUSE
Your record.

MICHAEL
Nico's ... he's the Jazz King, not
me. Try that one -

Michael points to another record and Senhouse changes it.

CAMERA remains in LONG SHOT throughout, the only movement in
foreground being thin wisps of smoke from the O.S. inglenook,
drifting through FRAME.

The jazz has now been replaced by the haunting, eerie theme
of Norman O'Neill's incidental music to Mary Rose.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
Do you think we'd ever survive a
trip to Paris, you and I?

SENHOUSE
I'd feel much happier in a car.
Couldn't you persuade him to buy
you one for...
(reacting to music)
What on earth is this? Goodbye
Ragtime?

MICHAEL
Mary Rose.

SENHOUSE
Mary who?

MICHAEL
You wouldn't know her.

SENHOUSE
How do you know?

MICHAEL
Because I know you.

SENHOUSE
(nonplussed)
Go on, try me.

Michael hesitates a moment, his attitude towards Senhouse as
ambivalent as ever.

MICHAEL
Alright, I'll tell you.
(nonchalantly)
She's a girl who disappears on a
Scottish island and stays the same
age while the rest of the world
grows old. And then one day she
leaves the island to search for her
son, but when she finds him, she
doesn't recognise him.

SENHOUSE
Hmm. And the music?

MICHAEL
It's the island calling her back.
If she stays away, she'll grow old
like her son ...

SENHOUSE
But if she boogies back to the
Never Never Land, she'll stay an
ickle boy for ever and ever, thanks
to Sir Jazz Band B?

MICHAEL
(lightly)
I said you wouldn't know her. What
were you saying before?

SENHOUSE
About what?

MICHAEL
Couldn't I persuade him to
something?

SENHOUSE
Oh yes - buy you a car so we could
drive to Paris in reasonable
comfort.

MICHAEL
It was hard enough getting the
motor-bike. He dreamt I was killed
in an accident the night before he
bought it, and nearly cancelled the
order.

SENHOUSE
What convenient timing.

MICHAEL
(lightly)
Yes, wasn't it ... particularly
since I had just woken up from
the same nightmare.

A pause, broken by the sound of a suppressed cough in the
foreground inglenook.

Senhouse reacts with a slight start as he sees a movement

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
Uncle Jim?

From Michael's POV: Barrie holds up a hand from where he has
been sitting, tucked out of sight in the settle.

MICHAEL (CONT'D)
I thought you were out at dinner?

BARRIE
(mildly)
Yes, so did I.

Barrie continues to browse through a manuscript without
further explanation or apology. Michael walks towards the
inglenook, but Senhouse stays where he is, somewhat unnerved
by Barrie's presence.

MICHAEL
I brought Roger back for a drink.

BARRIE
You missed quite a day at
rehearsals. Thomas Hardy turned up
to see how we were getting on. He
was wearing that old felt hat of
his, and one of the staff thought
he was a newspaper man and tried to
throw him out. ...

Barrie totally ignores Senhouse, who picks up his coat and
walks out of the flat -

BARRIE (CONT'D)
It was only due to Nico's stirling
efforts that he wasn't forcibly
ejected from the theatre.

The front door slams shut. Michael turns to find Senhouse
gone, but Barrie takes no notice.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(casually)
I've been having another go at Act
Three, but it's been uphill work
without you.

Michael doesn't respond.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
I've put in one or two odds and
ends that await your inspection.

Barrie indicates a second manuscript, lying on the sofa
opposite the settle. Michael glances at it impassively.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
Oh, by the bye ... I had another
word with Gilmour about a little
something beginning with 'M' I saw
advertised in the newspaper. A
Morris? Two-seater? Hmm?
(Michael sighs)
Not interested.

MICHAEL
What's the point in giving me a
motor car if you won't let me go
anywhere?

BARRIE
(with mock surprise)
I've never stopped you going any-
where. You can go where you like.

MICHAEL
To Paris?

BARRIE
To Paris if you must.

MICHAEL
But you said the other day.....

BARRIE
(interrupting)
I know, I know - but that was the
other day.

Michael regains a measure of enthusiasm.

MICHAEL
You really mean it?

BARRIE
If it amuses you.

MICHAEL
It would only be for August.

BARRIE
Fine, fine ... now can we get on
and read through the scene?

MICHAEL
(elated)
The whole play if you like.

Michael picks up the second manuscript and settles himself
into the sofa opposite Barrie.

BARRIE
(vaguely)
Did you say the summer holidays?

MICHAEL
Well, August.

BARRIE
Oh, what a pity. Still ...
(reading script)
Let's start from the top of page
shall we?

MICHAEL
(sensing a catch)
What's the pity?

BARRIE
Well, it was just that ... well,
I've taken a place in Scotland for
the summer holidays.
An island actually - off the west
coast...
(shrugs)
But of course if you'd rather go
skiing with the others ...

Barrie smiles at his own ironic reference to the Swiss
holiday of Michael's childhood.

MICHAEL
(flatly)
You never told me.

BARRIE
Naturally. It was meant to be a
surprise. But no matter - page 94.

Michael turns moodily to the page, Barrie watching him from
the corner of his eye.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
(casually)
Of course you could always bring
Roger too. I mean you can bring
whoever you like - we've got the
whole island. It's a regular
Robinson Crusoe island, by all
accounts. Eilean Shona - "the
island that likes to be visited."
(sighs)
But heigh-ho ... page 94: "1 am
Mary Rose."

A pause, then Michael reads reluctantly.

MICHAEL
"Who are you looking for?"

BARRIE
"I don't know. I knew once, but
I've forgotten. It was such a long
time ago. I'm so tired of being a
ghost."

MICHAEL
"Can't you see who I am?"

BARRIE
"Nice man."

MICHAEL
"Is that all you know about me?"

BARRIE
"Yes."

MICHAEL
"I dare say being a ghost is worse
than seeing one?"

BARRIE
"Yes." Now this next bit's new.

MICHAEL
"They say there are ways of laying
ghosts, but I'm so ignorant."

BARRIE
"Tell me."

MICHAEL
"All I know about ghosts for
certain is that they are unhappy
because they can't find something,
and then once they've found the
thing they want, they go away happy
and never come back. Can't you see
that I'm your son?"
(looks up)
Oh, no - I don't think he should
say that. The audience will know
I'm your son ...

Barrie looks hard at Michael a moment, then smiles and chucks
him the pencil -

BARRIE
Yes, yes - cross it out. Much
better.

Michael crosses out the line.

MICHAEL
So -
(resumes reading)
"Can't you see who I am?"

BARRIE
"Nice man."

MICHAEL
"Too tired to know or care?"

BARRIE
"Yes."
(looks up)
Now the island begins to call to
Mary Rose -

Barrie gets up, acting out the part to Michael -

BARRIE (CONT'D)
She rises, crosses stage right and
moves to the window as if drawn by
the music calling to her ...

Barrie stands at the edge of the inglenook, gazing out at the
darkened study beyond.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
What a night of stars!

A pause; Michael smiles tenderly at him.

EXT. EILEAN SHONA - SCOTLAND. 1920. DAY

EXTREME LONG SHOT: Barrie and Michael wander along the bleak,
deserted shoreline of Eilean Shona, a rugged island off the
west coast of Scotland.

In CLOSER SHOT, Michael helps Barrie clamber across the
rocks. He is now over sixty, slightly stooping at the
shoulders: a somewhat wizened creature in Michael's shadow.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dear Lady Cynthia, We have now
been on our desert island a whole
week, and a wild, rocky, romantic
island it is too - a real spying
ground for what really became of
Mary Rose. ...

EXT. EILEAN SHONA HOUSE - SCOTLAND. 1920. DAY

Barrie sits alone on the verandah of Eilean Shona House,
continuing his letter to Cynthia. He now writes solely with
his left hand.

Beyond, Michael, Nico, Senhouse, and a GROUP of HOUSE GUESTS -
all Etonian contemporaries of Michael and Nico - stroll
across the lawn towards the house, laughing among themselves.

BARRIE (V.O.)
We are a very Etonian household
here, and there is endless shop
talked, during which I am expected
to be merely the ladler out of
soup. If I speak to one of
Michael's friends, they shudder and
edge away, and are evidently a
merrier crowd without me. Even
Michael seems more dark and dour
and impenetrable these days. He has
the oddest way of alternating
between surprising intimacy and
extraordinary reserve. No medium.
I think few have suffered from the
loss of a mother as he has done.
...

As Barrie continues, the GUESTS cross the verandah and enter
the house. Michael pauses in the doorway, smiles at Barrie,
then follows the others inside, leaving him alone.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I do my best for him, but I have no
real experience - as Wendy says to
the Lost Boys. ...

EXT. EILEAN SHONA - SCOTLAND. 1920. DAY

LONG SHOT: Michael strides out ahead of Barrie along the
windswept cliff top, both silhouetted against a grey sky.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Michael has again been drawing
sketches of me, and they are more
than enough; indeed, if I believed
they did me justice, I would throw
myself from our highest peak. I
have an uncomfortable feeling that
his sketches of other people are
rather like them. Do my letters
seem aged? I certainly feel so
here. ...

EXT. EILEAN SHONA HOUSE - SCOTLAND. 1920. DAY

Michael and the other HOUSE GUESTS play a game of croquet on
the lawn in front of the house. Barrie sits in the
background, watching them from the verandah.

BARRIE (V.O.)
If only my Michael were the same
age as your Michael - oh, what a
time we'd be having together! We
should make great play of putting
this letter in a bottle and letting
it be picked up, à la Crichton
castaways. ...

CLOSE SHOT: Barrie, watching Michael in the distance.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
When I think of my Michael at the
age of your Michael, I know that
those were the last days in which I
was alive.

A pause, then Barrie gets up and walks to the verandah steps.
In foreground, Michael lines up his mallet with the ball. He
catches sight of Barrie watching and calls out to him -

MICHAEL
Come on, Uncle Jim ... come and
take my turn.

Barrie shakes his head with a wave of the hand, turns and
goes inside the house.

Michael shrugs, strikes the ball and sends it through the
hoop, to a cheer from the others.

As Nico takes his turn, Michael moves aside. Presently
Senhouse joins him.

SENHOUSE
(aside, to Michael)
Did you ask him?

MICHAEL
(watching game)
Yes.

SENHOUSE
And?

Michael hesitates.

MICHAEL
(watching game)
And nothing. He wants more time to
think about it.

SENHOUSE
Well don't let him ... he'll only
procrastinate, and then it'll be
too late.

MICHAEL
(irritably)
Yes, alright, alright.

Michael moves away, as resentful of Senhouse's pressure as he
is of Barrie's domination.

While the croquet game continues in foreground, Michael
wanders back to the house.

INT. EILEAN SHONA HOUSE - DRAWING-ROOM. 1920. DAY

Barrie sits by the window, working at a small desk. Michael
enters the room from the verandah, and Barrie looks up in
mock surprise.

BARRIE
Ah, Michael - the very person!
Listen, come here ... I think at
last I've got hold of an idea for
my St Andrews' Address ...

Michael makes no response.

BARRIE (CONT'D)
I'm wondering whether Courage might
not be a bad subject?
(pause)
What think you?

MICHAEL
(vacantly)
Mmm.

BARRIE
I mean the courage needed by the
youth of today to demand its say
in the running of the country ...
the courage to get up and...

MICHAEL
(interrupting)
Uncle Jim?

BARRIE
Yes?

Michael takes a deep breath.

MICHAEL
Why won't you let me go to Paris?
Or at least let me put my name down
for the Sorbonne? If I don't do it
soon, I won't stand a chance of
getting in. Why won't you let me
go?

Barrie gets up from his desk, taking his time.

BARRIE
Well now, I've talked it over at
great length with Lady Cynthia, and
she agrees with me that you should
wait until after you've got your
finals.

MICHAEL
But they're not for another two
years!

BARRIE
I know, but Lady Cynthia.....

MICHAEL
(interrupting)
What's Lady Cynthia got to do with
it?

BARRIE
A second opinion -

MICHAEL
(forcibly)
Well my second opinion thinks I
should leave Oxford now ... so
let's leave out second opinions.

BARRIE
Alright then, my opinion says you
should wait until you've got your
M.A. I didn't leave Edinburgh
University until I had mine.

MICHAEL
(muttering)
Much good it did you ...

BARRIE
What?

MICHAEL
I said, much good it did you - you
said so yourself.

BARRIE
That's not the point. The point is
that your father and mother would
have wished it.

MICHAEL
How do you know? Mother always
told me she hoped I'd follow in
Grandfather du Maurier's footsteps
which I seem to remember took him
off to Paris. George Morrow said
he'd publish my drawings in Punch
if I...

BARRIE
(interrupting)
Mr Morrow was my introduction, not
your Grandfather's. Besides, you
can just as easily submit drawings
from Oxford.

MICHAEL
But I want to study Art ... and the
Sorbonne's the only place where
they know how to teach it.

Barrie has a convenient coughing spasm, giving himself time
to think up another argument.

BARRIE
Listen to me, Michael. A year ago
you wanted to study the Classics.
Then you wanted to study Music.
Then you wanted to study Poetry.
Then you wanted to study History.
And now you want to study Art. How
do you know that in a month's time
you might not want to study
Politics, or Freudian Psychology -
God forbid! - or - or....

MICHAEL
Mediaeval Fen Drainage? It's
entirely possible. But right now I
want to go to Paris and study Art.
You let Jack have his way ... why
won't you let me have mine?

Suddenly Barrie flares up -

BARRIE
You've always had your way,
Michael! You asked for a car, I
gave you a car - you asked for a
cottage, I gave you a cottage ...
(shouting)
If you asked me for my life, I'd
give it to you - willingly!

Barrie's sudden outburst is reminiscent of his loss of
control with Mary Barrie when she asked for a divorce. Like
Mary, Michael responds with gentle firmness.

MICHAEL
(quietly)
I don't want your life, Uncle Jim.

Michael turns and walks out of the room, leaving Barrie
alone. He gazes after him a moment, still trembling with
emotion and anger. But the anger is directed against himself.

EXT. EILEAN SHONA - HEIGHTS. 1920. SUNSET

In a series of DISSOLVES, Michael climbs the rocky slopes to
the highest point on the island: a granite tor, over 600 feet
above sea level.

The view from the top presents a spectacle of awesome
grandeur: the western isles of Scotland, stretching towards
the distant horizon.

Michael sits beneath the tor and gazes out to sea. A pause,
then he takes out a scrap of paper and begins to write. As
his voice LAPS OVER, the CAMERA PULLS slowly away from him on
an extended ZOOM -

MICHAEL (V.O.)
Throned on a cliff, secure, Man saw the sun
hold a red torch above the farthest seas,
and the fierce island pinnacles put on
in his defence their sombre panoplies;
Foremost the white mists eddied, trailed, and spun
like seekers, emulous to clasp his knees;
till all the duty of the scene seemed one
led by the secret whispers of the breeze.
The sun's torch suddenly flashed upon his face
and died; and he sat content in subject night
and dreamed of an old dead foe
that had sought and found him;
a beast stirred boldly in his resting-place;
and the cold came; Man rose to his master-height,
shivered, and turned away;
but the mists were round him.

LONG SHOT: Michael stands and confronts the dying light, then
slowly turns away into the shadow of twilight.

FADE BLACK INTO:

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1921. NIGHT

Barrie sits alone in the inglenook, reading through a letter.
As his voice LAPS OVER, he folds it, puts it in an envelope
and seals it.

BARRIE (V.O.)
My dearest Michael,
Back again at the flat, and
thirsting nightly to have you with
me, now and at all times. I was
very gratified by your last letter,
and glad that you understood how I
felt about you staying on at
oxford.
(pause)
But my feelings were wrong. I
really have no right to hold you
there against your will. ...

Barrie takes the envelope, goes to the hat-stand, puts on his
hat and coat.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Since I have chosen "Courage" for
my Rectoral Address, I suppose the
Rector of St Andrews should start
by practising it himself. If Paris
is where your heart lies, then
Paris it must be, and I'm thinking
that Paris will be the very place
to spend your 21st birthday next
holidays.
My gift will keep you there in
happiness for many months, though
the time while you're away will be
loneliness personified to me. ...

Barrie turns out the lights in the flat one by one.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I seem to have been waiting an
eternity for you to become 21, so
that we could get closer and closer
to each other without any words
being needed ... though indeed I
think we are as close in love as
two friends can be. ...

The lights all out, Barrie walks down the short hallway to
the front door, CAMERA HOLDING him in LONG SHOT.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Had lunch with your Uncle Gerald
today, and told him what a joy and
a pride you are to me. Of course I
never tell you such things ... No,
no - I keep it dark! Now for the
post -
(very quietly)
- and then the night only.
Your loving J.M.B.

Barrie leaves the flat, closing the front door behind him.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - LANDING & LIFT. 1921. NIGHT

Barrie locks the front door, then crosses to the lift and
presses the button, as of habit.

As the lift rumbles into view, a MAN appears from the
shadows. Barrie barely notices him as he steps into the lift.

MAN
Sir James Barrie?

BARRIE
(gruffly)
Yes?

MAN
I wonder if you could spare a
few moments. My name's Hobson, from
the Daily Mail, and I was wondering
if you could give me a few more
details ...?

Realising the man is a REPORTER, Barrie closes the lift cage
door in his face.

REPORTER
Could it have been suicide?

BARRIE
(irritably)
What on earth are you talking
about?

REPORTER
Well, I mean the ... the drowning.

Barrie looks at him, stunned.

REPORTER (CONT'D)
Oh, I say - I'm most dreadfully
sorry, I thought ... I mean we
thought ...

The REPORTER breaks off as Barrie slowly opens the lift cage.

BARRIE
(stonily)
Go on.

Acutely embarrassed, the REPORTER fumbles for his notebook.

REPORTER
(consulting notes)
Well, er - it seems that two
undergraduates were drowned this
afternoon in Sandford Pool outside
Oxford ... they were found together
in each other's arms ...

As the REPORTER continues, Barrie stumbles out of the lift
and back to the door of his flat -

REPORTER (CONT'D)
One of them has been identified as
Michael Llewelyn Davies, the
adopted son of Sir James Bar....

The REPORTER breaks off as Barrie fumbles for his key and
unlocks the door. In doing so he drops his letter to Michael.
The REPORTER picks it up and hands it to him.

REPORTER (CONT'D)
(with genuine sympathy)
Sir James ... I am most dreadfully
sorry ...

Barrie is like a man in a trance, oblivious to the REPORTER's
words. He takes the letter from him, turns and disappears
back inside the flat, closing the door behind him.

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - STUDY. 1921. DAY

Cynthia ASQUITH stands in foreground, answering an incessant
stream of telephone calls.

Peter, Jack, Nico, and several other RELATIVES and FRIENDS
hover about the study in silence. There is no sign of Barrie.

CYNTHIA
(into phone)
9674 Gerrard? No, I'm afraid Sir
James is indisposed.
(pause)
Yes, yes of course I will. Thank
you, goodbye.

Cynthia hangs up, jots down the name of the caller. The
telephone rings again.

CYNTHIA (CONT'D)
(into phone)
9674 Gerrard? No, I'm afraid Sir
James is indisposed.
(pause)
Yes, of course I'll tell him. Thank
you, goodbye.

Again Cynthia hangs up and makes a note of the caller; again
the telephone rings.

CYNTHIA (CONT'D)
9674 Gerrard? No, I'm afraid Sir
James is indisposed ...

INT. ADELPHI TERRACE - BARRIE'S BEDROOM. 1921. DAY 138.

The room is in semi-darkness, the blinds drawn. Michael's
coffin stands on a table by the window, barely visible.

Barrie keeps a silent, motionless vigil beside it, crumpled
in a chair, his hand resting on the coffin lid.

In the background, Cynthia can be heard answering the
telephone calls.

CYNTHIA
(O.S., barely audible)
9674 Gerrard? No, I'm afraid Sir
James is indisposed. Yes, indeed
I'll tell him. Thank you, goodbye.

A brief pause, then the telephone rings again, O.S., to be
answered by Cynthia in the same mechanical fashion.

In foreground, Barrie gazes at the coffin. He has had no
sleep for three days and nights. His eyes are rimmed with
heavy dark circles. But there are no tears.
Possibly he is remembering that other coffin of half a
century ago - the coffin of his brother David. Whatever his
thoughts, there is no voice-over to reveal them.

A long pause, then Barrie exhales a deep, weary sigh that
seems to drain him of all breath. Slowly the sigh is
OVERLAPPED by the sound of waves breaking on a shore ...

DISSOLVING INTO:

EXT. MARGATE BEACH. 1922. DAY

A small boy - Michael Asquith (now aged 8) - stands by a rock
pool with a shrimping net. Nico is nearby, also shrimping,
but the shoreline is otherwise deserted.

Michael empties the contents of his net into a bucket, then
picks it up and runs back up the beach to where Cynthia and
Barrie are sitting in the shelter of the cliffs.

Barrie sits in a beach-chair, wearing a sun-hat and writing
in his notebook. His cough appears to be as troublesome as
ever, but although he has aged considerably, he seems to have
acquired a certain serenity. He has "passed through the
Valley of the Shadow", and has come out, if not into the
sunlight, then at least into the glow of twilight.

Michael runs over to Barrie and shows him his catch. Barrie
squints into the bucket, passes some complimentary remark.
Michael laughs, then goes over to show Cynthia.

CAMERA remains on Barrie, slowly moving in on him as he reads
through his notes to himself.

BARRIE (V.O.)
Some disquieting confessions must
be made in printing at last the
play of Peter Pan ... among them
this - that I have no recollection
of having written it. Of that,
however, anon.
(pause)
What I want to do first is to give
Peter to the five, without whom he
never would have existed. I hope,
my dear sirs, that in memory of
what we have been to each other,
you will accept this dedication
with your friend's love. ...

As Barrie continues, the CAMERA HOLDS on him, never cutting
away to other angles. Occasionally a tremble in his voice or
expression reveals his deeper emotions, but for the most part
he manages to retain a dour control of himself.

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The play of Peter Pan is streaky with
you still, though none may see this
save ourselves. A score of acts had
to be left out, and you were in them
all. I suppose I always knew that I
made Peter by rubbing the five of you
violently together, as savages with
two sticks produce a flame. That is
all he is - the spark I got from you.
Some of you were not born when that
story began, and yet were hefty
figures before we saw that the game
was up. Do you remember our
Marooners' Hut in the haunted groves
of Black Lake, and the St Bernard dog
who so frequently attacked you, and
the literary record of that summer,
"The Boy Castaways", which is so much
the best and the rarest of this
author's works?
(pause)
What was it that made me eventually
give to the public in the thin form
of a play that which had been woven
for ourselves alone? Alas, I know
what it was. I was losing my grip.
One by one as you swung monkey-wise
from branch to branch in the wood
of make-believe, you reached the
Tree of Knowledge. Soon you knew it
only as the vanished wood, for it
vanishes if one has to look for it. A
time came when I saw that George, the
most gallant of you all, ceased to
believe that he was ploughing woods
incarnadine, and with an apologetic
eye for me derided the lingering
faith of Peter ... When even Michael
questioned gloomily whether he did
not really spend his nights in bed.
In these circumstances I suppose was
begun the writing of the play of
Peter Pan. That was a quarter of a
century ago, and I clutch my brows in
vain to remember whether it was a
last desperate attempt to retain the
five of you for a little longer, or
merely a cold decision to turn you
into bread and butter. You had played
with Peter until you tired of him,
and tossed him in the air, and gored
him, and left him derelict in the
mud, and then went on your way
singing other songs ...

Barrie's voice rises with emotion; a pause, then he takes a
firmer grip on himself -

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
... and then I stole back, and
sewed some of the gory fragments
together with a pen-nib.
(pause)
I talk of dedicating the play to
you, but how can I prove it is
mine? Any one of you five brothers
has a better claim to the
authorship than most, and I would
not fight you for the cold rights.
For cold they are to me now, as
that laughter of yours in which
Peter came into being, long before
he was caught and written down.
There is Peter still, but to me he
lies sunk in that gay Black Lake.

Barrie lays down the notebook on his knee. A pause, then an
afterthought comes to him. He picks it up again and writes
something in the margin -

EXTREME CLOSE UP of Barrie as he writes, his voice also
closer and more intimate -

BARRIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It's as if years after writing
Peter Pan, its true meaning comes
to me - my own desperate attempt to
grow up ... but can't.

Barrie looks down at his own realisation. There is no
emotion, only the weary resignation of a heigh-ho sigh.

A brief pause, then Barrie gets up and walks away, leaving
his notebook and pipe on the chair.

Nico and Michael can be seen in the distance, walking back up
the beach together further along the shore.

Michael sees Barrie and runs towards him. Barrie also starts
to trot towards the boy, holding out his hand to him.

The two join hands, and together they lead each other away to
the distant sea.
* * *