©2008 Ian S. Bolton

34_08_027a. Same tree outside the window (across the road). Nothing else out there is the same due to major re-development of Princes Place in the early 1970s.
















IMAGES 035 TO 068 TO COME...


Through a partially open door in the foreground we see first the GIRL, then THOMAS coming into the studio through the front door.

She comes through the second door, followed by THOMAS.

Camera follows them as they go through the receptionist’s office.

They come through the door into the large studio.

At the other end of the studio THOMAS closes the door.

The GIRL comes forward, looking about with interest.

THOMAS joins her and we follow them as they walk behind the smoked glass panels and up the steps at the back of the studio.

The GIRL and THOMAS come up the stairs to the upper studio.

Camera moves with her as she comes forward, stooping under photographic equipment and ostrich plumes.

THOMAS switches on a few scattered lights, motions her to sit down, and switches on the record player.

The music is a very slow guitar. 



She wanders about as if looking for something.

Without waiting for her answer he pours two whiskeys, and turns in her direction with the glasses. 


What’s so important about my bloody pictures? 

Camera follows THOMAS as he goes up to her, now settled on the couch, to give her the glass.

She holds him with her eyes.

Doesn’t take the glass. 


That’s my business. 

THOMAS puts her glass down.

She gets up and stands stiffly opposite him.

Both are obscured by an overhead beam.

Close-up of THOMAS, drinking and saying as if recollecting a pleasant memory: 


The light was very beautiful in the park this morning. Those shots should be very good. Anyway, I need them. 

Close-up of the GIRL leaning against a cross-beam.

She is tense, insisting… 


My private life’s already in a mess. It would be a disaster if… 

She moves away.

THOMAS comes across to the beam where she is standing and stares at her. 


So what – nothing like a little disaster for sorting things out. 

The GIRL starts at his reply.

She paces up and down in front of the long polythene-covered window, growing more and more restless.

Camera moves back to reveal THOMAS watching her with a professional eye through the beams of the low ceiling, then moves in again to the GIRL. 


Have you ever done any modelling? Fashion stuff I mean? 

The GIRL shrugs and sighs impatiently. 


You’ve got it. 

Camera moves back to reveal THOMAS as she begins to wander about again.

He studies her from head to toe, then moves across to the plastic-covered window.

He motions her to come closer, pulling down a lilac-coloured back-drop in front of it.

He stands her against the back-drop. 


Hold that. 

He hurries away, leaving her standing rather bewildered.

THOMAS watches the GIRL standing impatiently in front of the screen. 


Not many girls stand as well as that… 

She comes towards him. 


No thanks, I’m in a hurry. 

THOMAS takes off his coat, and heads for the couch. 


You’ll get your pictures. I promise. I always keep my word. 

He falls onto the couch. 


Come here. Show me how you sit. 

Close-up of the GIRL.

She sighs, but complies.

She goes and sits beside him.

THOMAS doesn’t take his eyes off her.

They sit side by side and he is relaxed and confident, just staring at her, satisfied that he has at least made her sit down.

The telephone rings.

He looks round at the sound but does not make a move.

It goes on ringing.

THOMAS sits on the sofa, ignoring the telephone.

He is seen from above, over one of the beams.

Suddenly he hurls himself across the floor and dives for the telephone.

He has to crawl behind an armchair to find it and bumps his head on a corner of the chair’s wooden frame in the process. 

THOMAS in to phone, rubbing his head

Who is it? 

Close shot of THOMAS. 

THOMAS remembering his earlier call

Oh yes, that’s right. Hold on a second. 

He stretches up and holds out the receiver.

THOMAS’s hand holds the receiver out from behind the chair.

He is otherwise invisible.

Seen reflected in a large pane of glass the GIRL sits forward, shocked. 


Is it for me? 

She goes over to him and sits in the armchair, camera moving with her.

Hesitantly she picks up the receiver. 


It’s my wife. 

Close-up of the GIRL, hurriedly putting the receiver down, and starting to rise. 


Why should I speak to her? 

Close-up of THOMAS.

He takes the receiver back and addresses the person at the other end of the line, as the GIRL walks away in front of him. 


Sorry, love, the bird I’m with won’t talk to you. 

He hangs up.

The GIRL stands with her back to him, looking out of the window.

THOMAS moves over to her, but she moves away, ducking under a beam.

Camera moves in to close-up as she turns and taps her knuckles impatiently on the beam.

THOMAS goes up to a painting in the living area, runs his finger over it, then turns back to the GIRL, explaining: 


She isn’t my wife really. We just have some kids… No… No kids. Not even kids. Sometimes, though, it… it feels as if we had kids. She isn’t beautiful, she’s… easy to live with. 

He sits down in close-up and lights a cigarette. 


No she isn’t. That’s why I don’t live with her. 

He breaks off, and drops a match on the lace mob-cap of a marble bust on his right.

It’s a girl’s head, and he gazes at it, patting it thoughtfully as though reflecting on his personal problems.

The GIRL stands behind some lighting equipment.

She shows a first minimal sign of interest in him.

A moment of silence.

The GIRL goes and sits down on the couch again.

The YOUNG MAN gets up and goes on speaking, turning in her direction. 


But even with beautiful girls… you look at them… that’s that. That’s why they always end up by… 

He sighs. 


…Well, I’m stuck with them all day long. 

THOMAS stands looking down at the GIRL on the sofa. 


It would be the same with men. 

He shrugs.

A new track is playing.

This one has a fast beat. 


Have a listen to this. 

He moves up to the record player, and turns up the volume.

Close-up of THOMAS as he straightens.

Pan and track with him as he moves with the music.

The GIRL listens.

Instinctively she starts swaying with the rhythm.

THOMAS goes and sits down beside her.

THOMAS motions her to listen to the music. 


No, keep still. Keep still! Listen. Keep still. 

A pause. He hands her the cigarette he is smoking. 


You can smoke, if you like.

The GIRL takes the cigarette and in the same movement raises it to her mouth, still swaying in time to the music. 


Slowly, slowly. Against the beat. 

The GIRL tries to smoke moving slowly, swaying sensuously. 


That’s it.

For a few minutes the GIRL stays with the game.

She even seems a little amused. She returns the cigarette to THOMAS’s hand, laughing.

THOMAS, in turn, draws on the cigarette very slowly, his eyes fixed on her, then gives it back to her.

Resume on the GIRL.

She is about to take it, but changes her mind.

The GIRL gets to her feet abruptly: her nerves cannot stand such an artificial game. THOMAS gets up, too. 


Ohhh… I can’t stand it. I’m nervous enough as it is. 

She sits down again.

Rummages in her bag.

Then in a different voice she says: 


Can I have some water? 



He goes off to the kitchen.

She watches him disappear into the kitchen, and immediately her eyes light on the camera lying on the film storage cabinet in the extreme foreground.

An instant’s pause.

She looks furtively towards the kitchen door, and then she is on her feet.

She picks up her bag, then tiptoes over to the camera and picks it up.

She hurries past the ostrich feathers on tiptoe and rushes down the stairs leading through the great ground floor room towards the entrance hall.

The door downstairs is flung open and the GIRL bursts through.

She stops dead in her tracks.

In front of her is the PHOTOGRAPHER.

He is leaning against the wall, smiling slyly. He comes up to her at once, holding out his hand. 


And I am not a fool, love. 

The GIRL hands him back the camera.

She leans against a counter top at the end of the big studio.

Beside her is a huge blow-up of a girl doing a parachute jump. 


Can I have the photographs? 

They stand looking at one another silently for a few moments. 


Of course. Later. 

They move towards the stairs again. She in front, he following. 


Your boyfriend’s a bit past it. 

The GIRL goes up the stairs without reacting, camera moving up with her.

No sooner are they in the studio than she turns and looks THOMAS straight I the face.

It is obvious she resents his previous remark. 


Why don’t you say what you want? 

They stand looking at one another, the rack of ostrich feathers between them. THOMAS avoids having to answer.

The GIRL puts down her bag and starts undoing her blouse.

The GIRL stands behind the ostrich plumes and takes off her blouse.

She is not wearing a bra and stands there bare-topped, but with her black scarf still knotted round her neck.

Close-up of the YOUNG MAN, gazing at her with amusement and admiration in is eyes, from over the top of the plumes.

Resume on the GIRL.

She puts her blouse down and stands waiting.

They look at each other, suddenly serious and tense.

Camera moves with THOMAS as he goes up to her, ducking under the plume rack, and places his hands on her shoulders.

He looks at her silently.

Reverse angle shot of them looking at one another.

He moves away and she turns to look at him. 


Get dressed. I’ll cut the negatives you want. 

He goes off down the gangway leading to the darkrooms. He opens the purple door of the first one.

Inside the darkroom the door slides open, revealing THOMAS in close-up.

Camera follows him as he goes to the table and takes the reel from the camera.

He toys with it, as if still undecided whether to give it to her or not.

Then he puts it out of sight and picks up another roll of film, and turns back to the door. 


He comes back into the studio and looks round, toying with the film still in his stand.

At first glance it seems the GIRL has disappeared. The music is now cool, quiet jazz.

The GIRL’s legs are visible, but the rest of her body is obscured by the lilac back-drop.

He pulls it away from the wall and looks behind it.

She is standing still, half-naked, with her arms folded across her breasts.

THOMAS comes towards her behind the purple paper, holding it back, then letting it fall, obscuring them both from view.

THOMAS comes up to the girl and tosses her the roll of film.

She takes it and moves away, camera following her.

But after one or two steps she stops and turns back.

She looks at THOMAS almost tenderly.

Then gives him a kiss.

A fleeting kiss.

And again moves away.

This time it is his turn to follow her.

She stands in close-up against the purple screen, and he takes her in his arms, holds her tight and kisses her.

This, too, is brief.

Then, with an arm round her shoulders, he leads her gently towards the bedroom.

As they pass, camera tracks in rapidly to the GIRL’s blouse as she tosses the reel of film onto it.

They reach the doorway to the bedroom.

She wraps her arms round his neck… when the doorbell rings.

They both pause. 

THOMAS taking off his shirt

They’ll go. 

He tosses the shirt into the bedroom and stands bare-chested.

The bell rings again. 


But they’re not going. 

The YOUNG MAN makes a move to go and open the door.

But it is she who holds him back, with a hand on his shoulder. 


Don’t go. 

The YOUNG MAN gives her hand a kiss and goes down the stairs.

THOMAS crosses the receptionist’s office and opens the front door.

A DELIVERY BOY stands outside. 


Have you bought a propeller? 




You bought a propeller this morning. Right? 


Oh yes. 


You’ll have to give us a hand with it. 

THOMAS steps outside to see, then comes back inside to get the key to the big garage door from a chest of drawers in the hall.

He picks it up and goes outside.

SCENE 33        SCENE 35