My Life in Cat Years

1 EXT. CITY. DUSK
Street lights begin to flicker on as the day slowly draws
into darkness and the city takes on a new life.
MARIE (V/0)
"Lucky that man whose children make
his happiness in life and not his
grief, the anguished disappointment
of his hopes."
A seemingly endless row of gridlocked traffic, the Commuters
stuck in their motionless cars.
MARIE (CONTINUED)
...I read these words somewhere; a
magazine perhaps, or a book I’ve
half forgotten. To me they strike a
peculiar resonance, a fragment of
something real.
MARIE SOMERVILLE, Twenty-nine with short dark hair, is
secured within a long beige trench-coat; a distant figure
lost in a busy street. Picks her way through the crowd. She
carries with her an old leather overnight bag. Pedestrians
walk past oblivious.


2 EXT. STATION. DUSK
MARIE fights her way through a restless train station.
Tannoy:
STATION EMPLOYEE (DISINTERESTED)
The next train to arrive at
platform 2 is the 18:35 train to
Shrewsbury...
Marie makes her way towards the platform.
STATION EMPLOYEE (CONTINUED)
...calling at Watford, Milton
Keynes, Rugby, Coventry...


3 INT. TRAIN CARRIAGE. DUSK
MARIE sits alone at a table meant for four, staring absently
out of the window. She begins to jot in an old leather-bound
notebook.
The view from the carriage slowly transforms into a rural
vista, urban sprawl gradually becoming fields.
JULIA (ANSWERING MACHINE)
Marie? It’s your mother. We have
arranged a date; Thursday 14th.
Please call and let me know you’re
coming.
BEEP


4 EXT. CEMETERY. DAY
MARIE, clad in funereal black, stares at a recently filled
grave. Her face betrays little emotion.
PASTOR
...as his illness caught up with
him, Martin’s strength and
resilience were an inspiration to
us all.
Slightly apart is her sister IRIS, who has one arm around
the weeping JULIA and the other resting on the bulge of her
pregnant stomach. THE PASTOR, a dour, dark-haired man in his
mid fifties, drones on incessantly.
PASTOR (CONTINUED)
... in those final days and weeks,
it was Martin’s character, not his
illness, that continued to define
him. Go now in peace, may the love
of God surround you.
The assembled mourners begin to make their way from the
graveside to the wake. Marie lingers a little longer than
the rest before following.


5 INT. SOMERVILLE HOME (LIVING ROOM). EVENING.
MARIE lounges despondently in a comfortable arm chair,
surrounded by the detritus of Martin Somerville’s wake.
GUEST (O/S)
...you call if you need anything.
Scattered around the room is an array of empty chairs, half
filled wine glasses and empty bottles. The book of
condolences sits alone on a table.
IRIS (O/S)
Thanks Paul. We’re so glad you
could come.
Door closes.
A car starts and pulls out of the gravel drive as IRIS joins
her sister in the living room. Iris begins gathering the
discarded glasses and bottles.
MARIE (RISING).
Let me do that.
IRIS
It’s alright.
Pause as Marie sits back down and Iris takes her load
through to the kitchen. Marie begins to spin an ancient
globe slowly on its axis.
MARIE
It’s going to take mum ages to sort
through all his things...
Iris can be heard clattering around offscreen.
IRIS (O/S)
She won’t be ready for a long time
yet.
Pause as Iris returns and continues clearing up.
MARIE
It used to scare me in here, all
those patterns in the wallpaper
looked like faces if you stared at
them long enough.
Pause as Iris gathers more items and Marie sips from a half
finished glass of wine.
MARIE
It’s good to see you Iris.
Pregnancy suits you.
Iris grins sadly to herself and continues on her way to the
kitchen.
IRIS (O/S)
Dad mentioned he’d sent you a
birthday card.
Pause.
IRIS (CONTINUED)
Why didn’t you tell him you’d
moved?
Silence as Marie gropes for an adequate reply.
IRIS (RETURNING)
I’d finish that glass if I were
you, we have to be up in the
morning.


6 INT. SOMERVILLE HOME (MARIE’S ROOM). NIGHT.
MARIE climbs an old staircase and pushes open the door of
her bedroom, the same she used as a child. The light
flickers on uncertainly, revealing a room now conspicuously
bare.
A chart showing Marie’s height at various ages meanders past
the light switch.
Marie shuts the door and momentarily perches on the end of
the bed, scrupulously made that morning.
A few relics remain sat within the worn, peeling décor.
Several dust covered but well thumbed books sit on an
otherwise bare shelf. In the corner sits a wooden ladder and
some empty paint tins situated below a swatch of test
samples.
Marie rises, selecting a creased record sleeve from a small
pile of deserted albums. Delicately she lowers the needle
before sitting back on the bed.
She lies back lost in thought. From the corner of her eye,
she notices a dream-catcher slowly rotating in the draft
from her bedroom window.


7 INT. MARIE’S BEDROOM. MORNING
Approaching footsteps. The handle of the door is turned, but
it is locked. Knocking at door.
Marie gropes reluctantly towards wakefulness.
JULIA (O/S)
Marie, are you getting up? It’s
10:15. Iris and I are leaving soon.
Julia’s footsteps are heard retreating down the corridor.


8 INT. SOLICITOR’S OFFICE. DAY
JOHN WEAKS
Let me start by saying how sorry I
am for your loss.
MARIE, IRIS and their MOTHER sit in a cluster of antiquated
leather chairs facing a dark, well-proportioned desk. The
lawyer, a kindly man of middle years, smiles genially at the
family.
JOHN WEAKS
Martin was a true friend.
Mrs Somerville smiles thinly.
JULIA
Thankyou John.
JOHN WEAKS
This oughtn’t take too long. As I’m
sure you all know Martin was
careful to set his affairs in order
while he was still able.
Mr Weaks reaches for Martin Somerville’s will, which is
resting neatly on his desk. The document is printed on
thick, headed notepaper.
JOHN WEAKS (ORATORICALLY)
I, Martin James Somerville,
resident of Oxfordshire, England
declare this to be my last will and
testament. I hereby revoke all
former wills and codicils.
Iris and Julia regard John attentively. Marie is clearly
feeling worse for wear and is struggling not to fidget.
JOHN WEAKS (CONTINUED)
If my wife, Julia Evelyn Somerville
survives me, I wish my entire
estate to pass to her, with the
condition that our Durham residence
pass to my eldest daughter, Iris
Christine Mangan...
Iris takes her mother’s hand and squeezes.
JOHN WEAKS (CONTINUED)
...and that my daughter Marie
Colette Somerville inherit my
vintage AJS motorcycle.
Marie’s disappointment registers on her face.
JOHN WEAKS (CONTINUED)
I appoint my wife Julia Evelyn
Somerville as executor of my will,
and if she is unable or unwilling
to serve...
Without saying a word, Marie rises from her chair and leaves
the room with her family staring after her and John Weaks,
his concentration broken, continuing haltingly.
JOHN WEAKS (CONTINUED)
...then I appoint my brother Arthur
Somerville as alternative executor.


9 EXT. OFFICE DOORWAY. AFTERNOON
MARIE is sat on the third step, smoking a cigarette and
visibly fuming. JOHN walks down the steps towards her.
JOHN WEAKS
Mind if I sit here?
MARIE
Go ahead.
John sits beside Marie. Awkward silence.
JOHN WEAKS
I saw you’d been published.
Congratulations.
MARIE
You’ve read it?
JOHN WEAKS
I’m not much of reader I’m afraid,
but my wife assures me it’s very
good.
Marie attempts a smile.
JOHN WEAKS
Martin must have been very proud of
you.
MARIE
I don’t think he got around to
reading it.
Awkward pause.
JOHN WEAKS
He always had something to keep
himself occupied, your dad. Like
that bike. It became almost an
obsession for him over the last few
months.
John stands up and fishes in his trouser pocket.
JOHN WEAKS
I just wanted to make sure you got
these.
He retrieves a set of keys on a battered leather fob and
holds them enticingly before Marie’s face. She reluctantly
takes them.


10 INT. WORKSHOP. EVENING
A bare bulb flickers then ignites. MARIE is in her father’s
workshop. One side of the room is occupied by his desk and
in the centre is the motorbike, covered by a filthy,
oil-stained dustcover.
Marie approaches the bike and grabs a corner of the dust
sheet. Before she can remove the cover her attention wanders
to an object on Martin’s desk and she draws her hand away.
It is covered in dust and grease.
Disgusted, Marie wipes her hand on the thigh of her jeans
and goes to explore the rest of the workshop. The room is
typically cluttered and filthy. Marie approaches her
father’s desk.
On its surface are various tools, components and a pair of
her father’s spectacles. Marie picks these up and peers
through the lenses, examining the room through their
unfamiliar blur.
Marie’s attention is caught by a noticeboard nailed above
the desk and she lowers the glasses. Pinned to the board are
invoices for parts, post-it notes written in her father’s
hand and a number of maps and photographs.
Marie examines one of these, a section of road on the South
coast of Italy that Martin has highlighted in thick red pen.
Marie traces the route with her fingertip.


11 EXT. COUNTRYSIDE. DAWN
MARIE is lent against the kitchen door frame, enjoying her
first cigarette of the day. The lilting call-and-response of
two blackbirds signals the break of dawn. Marie shivers and
pulls her coat tighter over her shoulders.
Montage sequence.
The sun rises low and orange over frost-covered fields.
MARIE (V/O)
I was born on September 25th 1981,
making me a Libra. Thus I am
romantic, changeable,
self-indulgent, gullible and
idealistic.
A blackbird hops from branch to branch, singing the morning.
MARIE (CONTINUED)
Alongside roughly one-twelfth of
all mankind. If only we were so
simple.
The Somerville house, bathed in soft orange sunlight.


12 INT. SOMERVILLE CONSERVATORY. MORNING
MARIE and IRIS are sat in a worn wicker sofa, sipping cups
of tea and eating breakfast. Iris has her hands clasped over
her pregnant stomach.
IRIS
He’s kicking.
Iris gestures Marie over to her. Marie bends down and rests
her face against her sister’s stomach. Marie’s expression
lights up as she feels the movement of her unborn nephew.
Marie, suddenly conscious of her position, draws her face
away, embarrassed.
MARIE
When’s he due?
IRIS
December 15th.
Marie sits back in her chair and grins at her sister.
MARIE
I mean it, you do look good
pregnant.
IRIS
You’re a shit liar Marie, I look
like a beach ball.
The two sisters share a laugh.
Pause.
MARIE
Have you thought of a name yet?
IRIS
No, but we know what his middle
name’s going to be.
The conversation lags for a few moments as the two women eat
their breakfast.
MARIE
Why did dad get a bike?
IRIS
He’s had it for years now I think.
He was planning some sort of grand
European tour. Of course, mum put
the breaks on that idea. Said he
was too old to be off gallivanting
around Europe.
Marie lets this new information sink in.
IRIS
Remember Bude? I thought mum was
going to have a fit. I could hear
her shouting even over the waves.
MARIE
They were really big. I could only
just see her on the shore. I wasn’t
very good at first but dad kept
telling me I had to wait until the
wave was just about to break, then
kick my legs as hard as I could. We
rode all the way back to the beach.
Mum wouldn’t let us go back in
after that.


13 INT. GARAGE. AFTERNOON
MARIE has returned to her father’s workshop. Dust motes play
in shafts of golden light spilling in through the grimy
windows.
Marie slowly begins to approach the shrouded motorcycle.
This time she commits, pulling away the filthy dustcover to
reveal her father’s motorbike.
It is pristine. The body is an attractive sky blue and the
chrome is gleaming. Finally realising the true nature of her
father’s gift, Marie sits at his desk and begins to weep.


14 EXT. COUNTRY ROAD. DAY
In the near distance, a gleaming blue vintage motorcycle is
moving at pace along a deserted country road.
The rider, a slim figure clad in vintage leather and an
old-fashioned full-face helmet is clearly relishing guiding
the machine through the winding bends.