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54.<br />
Mmm<br />
FLORENCE<br />
The moment is precious, easily disrupted. EDWARD gently<br />
disengages his arm. As he leaves the bed, it bleats and squeaks<br />
again.<br />
Desperate not to lose the moment, he stumbles against a chair as<br />
he hurries across the room and starts to take off his clothes as<br />
fast and as quietly as he can.<br />
Naked, but for his unbuttoned shirt. he stands at the foot of<br />
the bed, gazing at FLORENCE. She has not moved. Her gaze is<br />
still upwards. She looks beautiful in her attitude of abandon,<br />
her dress rucked up around her thighs, ropes of tangled hair<br />
spread across the counterpane. EDWARD has been thinking of this<br />
moment for over a year. He takes a deep silent breath, taps the<br />
breast pocket of his shirt where his contraceptives are, and<br />
moves towards her.<br />
57 EXT. CRICKET GROUND IN CHILTERNS. DAY.<br />
57<br />
June 1962. Late morning. The explosive crack of leather on<br />
willow. And a shout. We are in the practice nets by a rural<br />
cricket pitch.<br />
Pulling away from the CRICKETERS there, we find EDWARD at a<br />
distance, marking out the boundary.<br />
Close in. A CAPTAIN of the local village team is approaching<br />
him.<br />
CAPTAIN<br />
That wicket will want rolling again<br />
before tomorrow.<br />
EDWARD<br />
It’ll be done, Mr Rammage.<br />
We follow EDWARD as he pushes his machine, marking out chalky<br />
white against the brilliant green.<br />
He stops to mop his brow, glances towards the pavilion, and<br />
double-takes.<br />
Across the field, sitting in the deep shadow of a huge old oak<br />
by the pavilion is FLORENCE.
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