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41.<br />
EDWARD’S hand has moved closer, his fingers have pushed past the<br />
trim of her knickers.<br />
FLORENCE<br />
And Edward... I feel... I’m feeling...<br />
But... who were they?<br />
Who?<br />
EDWARD<br />
Without pulling his hand away, he has positioned his face over<br />
hers. He lowers his head to graze her lips.<br />
Uh... students.<br />
FLORENCE<br />
And... what were their names..?<br />
EDWARD<br />
Oh, Flo, why are we talking about...<br />
there are no names... you’re the<br />
first. You are the first.<br />
FLORENCE<br />
You’re not to make fun of me...<br />
48 INT. PONTINGS HOUSE. FLORENCE’S BEDROOM. DAY.<br />
48<br />
May 1962. FLORENCE alone in a private moment of intense selfcommunion.<br />
In front of a full length mirror she is trying on the<br />
underwear that she will wear on her wedding night. Empty boxes,<br />
wrapping tissue as well as sheet music on the floor at her feet.<br />
She stands full on to the mirror, turns, turns the other way,<br />
regards herself over her shoulder. Trying to see herself in new<br />
terms, as he will see her. Is she beautiful? Will EDWARD think<br />
she is. She is, of course, but she doesn’t know she is, she<br />
doesn’t feel it.<br />
FLORENCE turns again. Her hand plays across the pastel silk,<br />
cups her breast. She is unconvinced.<br />
She frowns.
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