Her Collection

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HER COLLECTION
A short film by David Erdos

 

 

BLACK

FADE IN:


1 EXT. LONDON HOUSE. STREET. DAY.                       1

  PETER, an older man stands with flowers. He  
  consults a small piece of paper and then approaches
  the door.

  His hand goes for the bell but then the door opens.
  A dishevelled Party Girl, CASSIE stumbles out of the
  door.

                      CASSIE.

          Do you live here?

                      PETER.

          What? No..I was looking for –

                      CASSIE.

          Christmas? Or a Prince? Something..
          What’s the name of this street? Do
          you know? (FEELS HERSELF:) Fuck!

                      PETER.

          Is something – ?

                      CASSIE.

          What? Fuck! Where the fuck are my
          knickers! Have you got my knickers?
          Where are my fucking knickers? Oh!
          Fuck!
 

  She darts back inside leaving PETER standing.
  She is heard shouting and banging on a higher floor.

                      CASSIE (OOS)

          LET ME IN,YOU PIG! SAL! OR WHATEVER
          YOUR NAME IS! LET ME IN! DO YOU HEAR
          ME! I SAID LET ME IN! LET ME IN!

   PETER stands at the door. He peers in, uncertain.
   Cassie approaches. She pushes past him and out.

                      CASSIE.

          Spanish cunt.

   PETER looks after her. He stands, disconcerted.
2  INT. HALLWAY. DAY.                                  2

   PETER enters. He closes the front door as a Flat
   door opens. CARA (with a heavy accent) stands staring
   at him..

                      CARA.

          What was that noise?

                      PETER.

          I think it was one of the tenants..

                          CARA.

          It wasn’t you?

                          PETER.

          I’m no tenant. I was looking for –

   Cara shuts the door.

          Nevermind.

   PETER walks on. He puts down the flowers.
   Another door opens.  CAROL, dowdy and fearful is
   looking though the crack.

                          CAROL.

          Who are you?

                          PETER.

          Hello..hi..

                          CAROL.

          Are you from the landlord? I’ve got
          mice in here somewhere. I can hear them
          pick and scratch through the walls. They
          didn’t say there were mice when they
          asked me to stay here. Plus they said
          there’d be carpets, but there isn’t
          even that. And it’s cold. I can’t go out.
          Are you –

                          PETER.

          No. I’m actually looking for someone..

                          CAROL.

          Who?

                          PETER.

          Oh, my sister. My sister Emma.

                          CAROL.

          I’m Carol.

                          PETER.

          Hello.

                          CAROL.

          Do you know the landlord?

                          PETER.

          No.

                          CAROL.

          Can’t you help me? You see,I’m being
          driven mad by this mouse..!

                          PETER.

          I’m sorry..
   He walks to the stairs. She watches after.

                          CAROL.

           Don’t tell the landlord! This
           isn’t my fault! None of this!

   She slams the door shut as Stuart continues.
3  INT. CAROL’S ROOM. DAY.                              3

   CAROL turns back inside. A BODY is laying,
   seemingly dead in the foreground. She looks at it
   impassive.

                         CAROL.

           It isn’t. And more..never could.
4  INT. STAIRCASE.                                      4

   PETER passes patches on the wall where information
   has been.
5  INT. LANDING. DAY.                                   5

   Another door to a flat. PETER knocks. There is no
   answer. He knocks. Then continues knocking.
6  INT. 2nd ROOM. DAY.                                  6

   The knocking from outside continues. CATHY, an
   Executive type woman turns to regard it. She turns
   back to the person that she’s been addressing. She
   takes a gun from her handbag and points it at this
   person. We do not see him unless in OS shot.

                        CATHY.

          If you answer that door I’ll have
          you, Derek. Can you imagine that,
          Mister Walters? I’ll murder you. It’s
          like a film, this. A bit. An extreme
          situation. But it took time to find
          you and now I want to play the thing
          out, properly. Wicked Stepdads are
          shit…
                    CATHY (CONT)

          ..They probably give off an odour.
          You do, that’s for certain. I could
          Practically smell you from Oxford. And
          where are we now? Quite near town.
          Living in shit on my Mother’s money.
          You couldn’t even waste her cash
          wisely, like you wasted me, years ago.

                    (TRIUMPHANT:)

          I’m going to kill you, you cunt.
7  INT. LANDING. DAY.                                   7

   Another door,slightly open. PETER peers in.
8  INT. 3rd ROOM. DAY.                                  8

   CINDY, a buxom prostitute is greasing her hands
   with petroleum jelly. We glimpse the outline of a
   man lain before her.

                         CINDY.

          Rollover, your Highness. Crack to.
9  INT. LANDING. DAY.                                   9
 
   PETER straightens. Walks on and takes the
   staircase to the higher floor.
10 INT. 2ND LANDING. DAY.                               10

   More doors ahead. PETER stands there, uncertain.
   Suddenly a door opens and CLAIRE comes out. She is
   a bright, breezy girl, dressed for work. Calm and
   cheerful. Her hair is dyed a strong colour. Her
   makeup reminiscent of punk or goth.

                        CLAIRE.

          Oh, hello!

                        PETER.

          Hi.
 
                        CLAIRE.

          Are you Avon calling?

                        PETER.

          No, I’m not.

                        CLAIRE.

          Pity. I could do with a cure for my
          nails. You look lost.

                         PETER.

          It’s my –

                         CLAIRE.

          What?

                         PETER.

          I’ve been trying to find my kid
          sister. She ran away.

                         CLAIRE.

          There’s no children –

                         PETER.

          No, she ran away years ago. My Dad.
          Our Dad. He – I don’t s’pose you –

                         CLAIRE.

          What?

  She smiles cooly.

          There’s no kids.

                         PETER.

          Her name’s Emma.
                                         
                         CLAIRE.

          There isn’t an Emma. Not here.
 
                         PETER.

          I have this address. Carlton Road.
          Queensway.

                         CLAIRE.

          This is Carlton Road. This is Queensway.
 
                         PETER.

          It’s all that was sent.

                          CLAIRE.

          Let me see.

  He shows her.

          Weird.

                          PETER.

          Yes.

                          CLAIRE.

          Someone’s playing games with you..

                          PETER.

          Are they? I used to play games with
          my sister when she was kid.

                          CLAIRE.

          Oh? What sort.

                          PETER.

          Cryptic stuff.

                          CLAIRE.

          Ah.

                          PETER.

          She twisted me round her finger. She
          was a minx.

                          CLAIRE.

          Was she really.

                          PETER.

          A real little minx.

                          CLAIRE.

          Aren’t they all? And I’m late for work..

                          PETER.

          Look, I’m sorry: this house..How many
          Rooms are there?

                          CLAIRE.

          God knows. There’s lots of people.
          But I mean, it’s mostly girls, girls
          in here.

    She smiles.

          It’s a kind of refuge.

 

                          PETER.

          I see.

                          CLAIRE.

          Yes, this was a safehouse.

                          PETER.

          Was? Something happen?

                          CLAIRE.

          I said I was late. So I’m gone.

    She goes, walking from him very quickly.
    She practically runs down the stairs.
    He stares after.
    Another door opens.
    A BEATEN WOMAN WITH A BRUISED FACE stares at him.
    The front door slams.
    PETER moves back to the staircase.

                           PETER.

          EMMA!

    He runs to the landing window to see the
    street below him.
11  EXT. STREET. DAY.                                  11

    CLAIRE/ EMMA is running. Her face is fearful.
    She disappears down the street.

                               DISSOLVE TO:
12  Same shots of each woman (CASSIE/CARA/CAROL/CATHY/
    CINDY/CLAIRE) running. They have all been the same
    person, each one victimised by her Father and Brother
    and any number of men. The image repeats, each time
    superimposing until image definition and the truth
    blurs from view..

FADE TO BLACK.

CREDITS. END.

 

 


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