MENLOVE
by
CHRISTOPHER LLOYD KING
©christopherlloydking 2024
BLACK SCREEN
The sound of wind and continuous heavy rain. Fade up the scratching of hobnailed boots on rock.
MAIN TITLES BEGIN
Superimposed over the following:
The boots shuffling on a precarious stance.
A climber’s hand – scarred knuckles and broken nails – tears wet lichen from a rock fissure. The hand probes the crack and tightens as the climber’s weight comes onto it.
A subjective view of the remainder of the climb: fifty feet of sheer rock, streaming with water.
Using his free hand to clear his vision, the climber carefully examines the route, plotting his next move.
JOHN MENLOVE EDWARDS, 43, is on the crux of the Central Buttress on Tryfan in North Wales. Short, stocky with powerful shoulders, and hair a mass of tangled brown curls, he climbs without protection. The degree of exposure is alarming: two hundred and fifty feet sheer drop below him. The wet conditions are an additional hazard. Water drips from his sodden clothing.
Menlove loops a sling over a spur of rock. Transferring his full body weight onto it, he swings out over the void, reaching out with his free hand to grab the next hand-hold.
Hauling himself onto the cliff summit, he looks over Llyn Ogwen – squalls of rain scudding across the lake.
His face glowing with his mastery of muscle and sinew, he is totally in his element.
MAIN TITLES END
EXT. CHARTERHOUSE SCHOOL DAY
The grand stone buildings of Charterhouse School.
Superimpose titles: CHARTERHOUSE SCHOOL, DECEMBER 1953.
A closer view describes the gothic splendour of the Assembly Hall. The murmurings of five hundred expectant boys and their parents are stilled as the voice of the Headmaster, Sir Robert Birley, begins his address.
BIRLEY (V.O.) Welcome, parents and boys, to our Founder’s Day celebration. And welcome, in particular, to our guest of honour, Wilfrid Noyce.
INT. ASSEMBLY HALL, CHARTERHOUSE SCHOOL DAY
On a raised dais in front of the assembled school sits WILFRID NOYCE, 36, his clean-shaven face distorted by surgical reconstruction. The skin over the right cheekbone has been stretched unnaturally.
Next to him sits a pretty but plainly dressed woman of the same age: Rosemary Noyce, née Davies. The rest of the teaching staff is ranged across the platform. Standing behind a lectern, the Headmaster turns towards Wilfrid.
BIRLEY: It’s fifteen years since Wilfrid left Charterhouse to embark on an illustrious career as a scholar and a mountaineer. Now he returns to us fresh from the triumph of the Everest expedition. As Carthusians, we might allow ourselves to share the glory reflected from heroes who stood for the first time on the highest point on earth…
Wilfrid nods modestly as the boys spontaneously applaud. Birley gestures for calm as he continues.
BIRLEY: … Since returning from the Himalaya, Wilfrid’s time has not been his own. So, we are indeed privileged that he should find a space in his busy schedule to address us today. We are grateful to him, (turns with a smile to Rosemary) and to Mrs. Noyce for sharing with us her new husband. Please show your appreciation in the usual way.
The hall erupts in applause as the headmaster cedes the platform to Wilfrid. Rosemary smiles proudly as Wilfrid steps forward to address the school.
WILFRID: Thank you, Headmaster. Your inclusion of me among the ‘heroes of Everest’ is generous, but ill-deserved. In fact, I don’t think any of us on the expedition would consider himself in those terms. The subject of heroism is hard to define. Casting around for a subject on which to address you today, it occurred to me that I should pay tribute to a man who had an enormous influence on me in my formative years. For me, John Menlove Edwards embodies heroism in its truest sense: steadfast in his beliefs and fearless in his actions.
EXT. GLYDER FAWR, NORTH WALES DAY
An aerial panorama of the sheer rock faces of Snowdonia in early spring. The landscape is bare, monochrome in the grey of the rock and the white of the snow. Dwarfed by the immensity of a cliff face, two tiny figures are climbing. They’re on Glyder Fawr high above the Ogwen Valley.
A closer view reveals their identity. The lead climber is Menlove, seventeen years earlier, aged twenty-six.
Roped to Menlove and belayed eighty or so feet below is his brother HEWLETT two years older. Hewlett is more conventionally good-looking with a shock of fair hair.
In layback position, Menlove picks his way up Procrastination Cracks on Glyder Fawr’s Grey Wall. The rock gleams silver with moisture. The route upward is unrelentingly steep and uninviting. With every muscle in his arms and back straining, he feels for holds in the crack, his hobnailed boots braced against the rock face. He is clearly immensely strong. Also daring - the drop below him is vertiginous.
EXT. OWGEN VALLEY EVE
A tarmac road snakes along the Ogwen Valley floor. The light is fading fast. The headlight of a motorbike pierces the gloom of the approaching night. A closer detail of the bike shows two bareheaded riders, Hewlett up front and, riding pillion, Menlove.
The bike slows and turns off the main road into a grove of trees. The headlight picks out a single-story stone-built shack.
EXT. HELYG CLIMBERS' HUT EVE
Hewlett pulls up in front of the building. They dismount.
MENLOVE: I’m boiling – need to cool off.
He speaks with an educated voice but with flattened Lancastrian vowels. Menlove runs over the stream some distance away as Hewlett kicks the bike onto its stand and carries a rucksack to the hut door. At the stream, Menlove throws off his clothes and, bathed in sweat, jumps naked into the water.
INT. HELYG CLIMBERS' HUT EVE
The main living area of the hut is untidy: climbing gear strewn everywhere.
The dull yellow glow from oil lamps scattered around the room reveals a dozen or so young men variously occupied. Some hanging wet clothes to dry in front of the smoky wood stove. Others cleaning mud off their boots. Others preparing food over primus stoves in the galley kitchen. They're all talking over each other but snatches of their conversations are discernible. The main topic is the climbs already accomplished and those to be undertaken.
In one corner, Wilfrid Noyce (aged 18) and an older man, COLIN KIRKUS (26) are in the middle of an altercation. Wilfrid presents the image of gilded youth, an unmarked face framed by sandy hair and piercing blue eyes. His beauty is marred for the time being by a sulky frown. Remnants of their meal lie on plates in front of them.
WILFRID: I'm not a child. I'm perfectly able –
COLIN (interrupting): – Not yet you're not. I'm not taking you on to the Glyders, not until you've proved yourself. Nothing is more dangerous than over-confidence.
Wilfrid glowers at him.
Hewlett greets the assembly and throws the rucksack into a corner. He plonks himself down at the table beside Wilfrid and Colin. Picks up a fork and starts to hoover up scraps of food from the plates.
HEWLETT: Starving.
COLIN (to Wilfrid): Hewlett Edwards – the human dustbin.
Hewlett grins at Wilfrid through a mouthful of food.
HEWLETT: You don’t mind, do you?
WILFRID: Edwards. Famous name.
HEWLETT: That’ll be my baby brother.
The door opens and Menlove appears naked and dripping in the doorway, clutching his discarded clothes.
MENLOVE: Throw me a towel, someone.
A chorus of mocking remarks: 'Put it away, for God's sake. 'Spare us.'
Wilfrid watches amused as a towel is found and thrown to him. Draping it around his waist, Menlove ambles over to the stove to dry himself. Space is made for him in the festoon of drying clothes. Welcomed by the other blokes, he’s a popular figure. He pulls on his moleskin breeches and stands warming his hands.
COLIN (calling out): Spare seat over here.
Joining them, Menlove pulls up a chair and smiles a greeting at Wilfrid.
MENLOVE: So hot on the back of the bike, I thought I was going to melt.
COLIN: Menlove, this is my cousin Wilfrid Noyce.
WILFRID (offering his hand): I know who you are. Second-best climber in the country, according to Colin.
HEWLETT: And the first?
They all look at Colin and burst out laughing.
WILFRID (to Colin): Who's put up most new routes, you or Menlove?
MENLOVE: It's all in the guides. Anyway, who's counting?
COLIN: Exactly.
MENLOVE: Been to Helyg before?
WILFRID (shaking his head): My parents have a cottage at Ffestiniog. That’s where we normally stay.
COLIN: Hasn’t stopped complaining since he got here.
WILFRID: I just want something a bit more taxing. Ivy Chimney’s for babies.
COLIN: Wants to run before he can walk. Justify the expense of his new boots, I suppose…
Menlove considers the unmarked boots.
… Won't take them off. Even sleeps in them.
MENLOVE (laughs): So the Chimney was too easy then?
COLIN: He's badgering me to take him on to the Glyders. First trip and he wants to be with the grownups.
MENLOVE (impressed): And why not?
Wilfrid gives him a wide grin.
INT. HELYG CLIMBERS' HUT NIGHT
In the kitchen area of the hut, the walls are decorated with black and white photographs of the more notable rock faces in the area. Picking the kettle up from the stovetop, Menlove pours boiling water into the teapot. Hewlett forages for something to eat. Wilfrid stands beside the photograph of Clogwyn y Grochan, Colin with him. Colin calls out to the group of men on their way out of the door. They've all changed into sports coats and flannels.
COLIN: And don't come back half-cut. I want some sleep tonight.
A chorus of jeers as they shut the door behind them. Menlove carries the teapot over. Wilfrid is tracing a route on Clogwyn with his finger.
WILFRID: Route's clear as anything – good solid stances on each pitch. Good handholds the whole way up. V.Diff, Mild Severe at most.
COLIN: Technical difficulty perhaps. What you're not seeing is the degree of exposure.
HEWLETT: Different matter when there's five hundred feet of air under you.
WILFRID: Always put in a peg or two if it got too hairy.
Colin catches Menlove’s eye.
Are you a purist too?
Handing out the mugs, Menlove studies the photo.
MENLOVE: Not many where you’d need help. It’s all a question of attitude. Good climbing comes from dreams, not strength or agility. If you approach problems not believing you can solve them, you'll always find yourself retreating. Mind over matter, nothing more.
EXT. HELYG CLIMBERS’ HUT DAY
The murky half-light of dawn reveals the climbers’ hut tiny against the bulk of Gallt yr Ogof.
INT. HELYG CLIMBERS’ HUT DAY
Wilfrid’s awake. The other occupants of the hut are sleeping off a surfeit of beer. Looking over to Menlove’s bunk, Wilfrid is pleased to see the older man stirring. Wilfrid clambers out of his bunk and, taking care not to disturb the others with the sound of his boots, he tiptoes over to Menlove.
WILFRID (whispering): Will you take me up with you today?
MENLOVE (stretching, flexing the muscle knots from his limbs): You’re keen. What about Colin?
WILFRID: I’m sure he’s had enough of baby-sitting.
MENLOVE: I suppose he can always pair up with Hewlett. (grabs his boots) Come on then, if you think you’re up to it.
Wilfrid grins as he follows Menlove to the outer door. The click of the door latch wakes Hewlett, who opens his eyes in time to see Menlove and Wilfrid disappearing through the door.
EXT. CLOGWYN Y GROCHAN DAY
The day is crystal clear. Menlove is already on the rock, Wilfrid watching with admiration as Menlove leads up the first pitch. It's steeply angled, with six hundred feet of sheer cliff-face above. The holds are awkwardly placed and require a good deal of stretching, off-balance, to reach them. The technique required is based on friction.
Wilfrid takes his box brownie camera from his jacket pocket and frames Menlove in his view-finder.
Menlove, shod in his nailed boots, climbs confidently, almost as though he's already reconnoitred the route. He reaches the tree at the end of the first pitch and ties off, pulling in the slack rope. He shouts down:
MENLOVE: All right, Wilf. Up you come.
Wilfrid packs away his camera and starts to move up the rock: over-confident and too fast for his own good. His inexperience becomes evident as he overreaches for a hold and finds his new boots slipping from their purchase on the rock. He slithers down, elbows and knees knocking on the lumps and bumps, skinning his knuckles on the rock as he scrabbles for a hold. He's safe, however. Menlove holds him secure. He dangles – a dead weight on the rope – trying desperately to find his feet. Menlove shouts out, laughing:
MENLOVE: You climb and I'll pull.
With a rueful smile, Wilfrid regains his footing and starts to climb again. This time, he takes it more steadily and soon joins Menlove by the tree. Menlove notes the blood seeping from Wilfrid's knuckles.
WILFRID: Just a scratch.
EXT. CLOGWYN Y GROCHAN DAY
Wilfrid is moving easily and confidently towards Menlove on the final pitch. The rock face stretches steep and precipitous below him. Menlove watches approvingly as Wilfrid pulls himself up the cliff, with all the poise and strength of an athlete. With one last burst of energy, Wilfrid completes the climb and flops down beside Menlove who pulls a block of chocolate from a pocket and, breaking off a couple of pieces, hands one to Wilfrid.
MENLOVE: You’ve earned it.
WILFRID (sucking gratefully on the chocolate): May I ask you something personal? Your name - Menlove?
MENLOVE: The cross I have to bear. It’s been in the family for generations.
WILFRID: It’s a good name. Distinguished.
EXT. HELYG EVENING
Hewlett and Menlove are together on the bank of the stream, collecting water in dixie cans to take back to the hut.
HEWLETT: You were up with the lark.
MENLOVE: Didn’t mind, did you? I thought you and Colin would make a day of it.
HEWLETT: It didn’t matter to me, but Colin was put out. He is responsible for Wilfrid, after all.
MENLOVE: Not much I could say. Wilf had made his mind up. Used to getting his way, I think.
HEWLETT: Certainly confident. How’d he get on?
MENLOVE: Not bad. I thought I’d see how he fares on Tryfan.
HEWLETT: Whatever you do, you’d better square it with Colin.
MENLOVE: Yes, Hewlett.
HEWLETT: And I wouldn’t push him too far. Wilf’s barely out of short trousers.
MENLOVE: Yes, Hewlett.
Menlove picks up the heavy dixie cans and returns to the hut. Hewlett watches him.
EXT. TRYFAN DAY
Menlove and Wilfrid are climbing together. They're on Tryfan’s Milestone Buttress. Menlove is leading again, traversing towards a grass-filled crack. Wilfrid is paying out the rope from a belay on a ledge behind a large block of rock. He can't see Menlove, but can hear the shouts coming from above:
MENLOVE: I'm going to jump into the crack. Hold the rope.
Suddenly, Menlove's full weight comes onto the rope and Wilfrid is pulled forward onto the rock, Menlove oscillating below in a pendulum swing. Menlove looks up, laughing.
MENLOVE: You'd better lead then.
EXT. TRYFAN DAY
The two men sit side by side on the heather at the top of Tryfan, looking out over the magnificent view. Menlove divides an orange and hands half to Wilfrid.
MENLOVE: Something to write home about. Your first new route.
WILFRID: With a large measure of help.
MENLOVE: False modesty, Wilf. It was your lead. I merely followed.
He looks up in response to a whistle from Colin, who emerges with Hewlett at the top of the East Face some distance away. They walk over to Menlove and Wilfrid. Watching them approach, Menlove sucks the juice from his fingers.
MENLOVE: One more term at school, then?
WILFRID (nods): The one I'm dreading. Exams at the end of it.
MENLOVE: Then what?
WILFRID: Cambridge.
MENLOVE: To read?
WILFRID: Modern Languages.
MENLOVE: Followed by a glittering career in the Foreign Service?
WILFRID: I don't think so. One diplomat in the family's enough. You?
MENLOVE: Doctor. Specialising in Psychiatry.
Hewlett and Colin arrive and, chucking their ropes to one side, flop beside Menlove.
HEWLETT: Any food, Menlove? I’m ravenous.
Menlove turns his rucksack inside out. It’s empty.
WILFRID: Ever think of bringing your own?
HEWLETT: The Lord always provides. Well, nearly always.
MENLOVE: You wouldn’t think he’s a man of the cloth, would you? Always on the cadge.
WILFRID: A long and respected tradition, the mendicants.
Hewlett points a mocking finger at Menlove.
MENLOVE (to Wilf): Whose side are you on?
Colin opens his rucksack and grudgingly hands over a lump of cheese and some bread. Hewlett sets to.
HEWLETT: Your reward’s in heaven, Colin.
COLIN: It’s certainly not down here.
MENLOVE (to Colin): Wilf’s just led on Milestone.
If Colin’s impressed, he’s not showing it.
WILFRID (demurring): Beginners’ luck.
HEWLETT: Credit where it’s due. That’s a grownup climb.
MENLOVE: We’ll have to look to our laurels, Colin. The boy’s a good un.
COLIN: And who taught him?
The others look at him: is he serious? Colin grins and the others burst out laughing.
INT. VICTORIA BUILDING, LIVERPOOL DAY
The oldest building of the University of Liverpool. The large lecture hall is set out for the graduate degree ceremony. On the raised dais, the officials of the university sit behind a long table.
Menlove, gowned and hooded in the post-grad school, stands waiting to receive his diploma. In the main body of the hall, relatives applaud as each graduate receives his degree document. Behind a lectern, the dean of studies calls out the names.
DEAN: … John Menlove Edwards, Diploma in Psychology and Medicine.
Among the relatives, a small family group sits up and pays particular attention. This consists of Menlove's parents, GEORGE and HELEN, his older brother STEPHEN and wife RUTH and his older sister NOWELL. Both George and Stephen are wearing the ecclesiastical collars of The Church of England. They all clap vigorously as Menlove is handed his certificate. Helen smiles with pride for her son.
EXT. VICTORIA HALL, LIVERPOOL DAY
The recent graduates mingle with their families outside the Hall. Menlove’s arm in arm with his mother. George stands leaning on a walking stick. Helen and Stephen, Ruth and Nowell congratulate him.
NOWELL: You finally broke the mould. Now we have a psychiatrist in the family.
MENLOVE: Doctor of minds, doctor of souls: what’s the difference?
STEPHEN: One of us at least might earn some money.
HELEN: It’s a shame Hewlett wasn't here to see this.
NOWELL: Only he would choose to go climbing.
RUTH: Today of all days.
GEORGE: He'd better be back for the tea your mother's prepared.
EXT. LIVERPOOL STREET DAY
Hewlett on his motorbike riding to his parents' house.
A municipal bus heads towards him from the opposite direction. Suddenly, a man runs out from behind a row of parked cars intent on catching the bus. Hewlett is right on top of him. A collision seems inevitable. But Hewlett swings the handlebars around, slewing the bike sideways. The back wheel locks up and Hewlett loses control. By applying the brakes, he makes a bad situation even worse.
The bike misses the man by a hair's breadth, but its momentum carries it across the road and into the path of the oncoming bus. The front forks bury themselves in the front of the bus. Hewlett's body arcs through the air and his head smashes into a lamp–post. Since he’s not wearing a helmet, his skull takes the full force of the impact. The man responsible for the accident stands rooted to the spot in shock. The bus driver jumps out of his cab and runs over. Bystanders stop and stare with detached fascination.
Hewlett lies motionless in a crumpled heap.
INT. CORRIDOR, LIVERPOOL ROYAL INFIRMARY DAY
A grim-faced police officer leads Menlove and Stephen down the corridors of this Victorian hospital. The click of their heels on the hard surface echoes off the walls. Menlove and Stephen's faces are grave with concern. At an intersection, they follow the direction indicated by a sign: to the mortuary.
INT. MORTUARY, LIVERPOOL ROYAL INFIRMARY DAY
A sheeted cadaver lies on a slab in the hospital morgue. An attendant in a white coat looks at Stephen and Menlove, standing in dread of their identification task. The police officer nods to the attendant who pulls the sheet back to reveal Hewlett's upper half.
Both Menlove and Stephen are shaken by what they see. Hewlett's head is massively swollen. The broken face is all but unrecognisable. The hair is matted with blood. Numb with grief, Menlove and Stephen look down at their brother's body. Stephen shudders involuntarily, turning away to conceal his feelings. Menlove however stares resolutely at Hewlett. He can't tear his eyes away.
The attendant discreetly replaces the sheet over the broken face.
INT. MENLOVE’S ROOM, EDWARDS HOME NIGHT
Menlove sits on top of his rumpled bedclothes. It's late at night. His eyes are red with weeping; he can’t sleep. He stares into the distance. As thoughts about Hewlett come, he writes painstakingly into a notebook on his knee.
Menlove’s internal voice intones an elegy to his adored older brother:
MENLOVE (V/O):
Yes you were beautiful and strong
And I'd not ask that you should know me.
Lean your head back and I'll
Speak softly lest you hear.
EXT. GRAVESIDE DAY
A large gathering stands beside the open grave as Hewlett's coffin is committed to the ground. George conducts the service. He stands gripping his prayer book, his weight balanced on his walking stick, watching as the coffin bearing the body of his son is lowered into the grave. His jaw is clenched with stoical self-mastery. The other members of the grieving family are gathered around. Stephen stands just behind his father. Held up on either side by her daughter and daughter-in-law, Helen stands to one side. Her chest heaves with suppressed sobs. Behind them are some of Hewlett's friends, including a couple of women. It's clear he was a popular figure. There's a sense of shocked grief.
Menlove’s elegy continues in voice-over:
I feel more than he does and may not forget.
Then he flickered and died, wearily torn from that poor carcass.
He was beautiful and so strong,
Drawn by the grey sky, over it a canopy.
Menlove stands at the foot of the grave, trying to hold his emotions in check. He looks up from the coffin towards his father. George limps forward and gathers a handful of soil from the pile. He lets the soil slip through his fingers onto the coffin lid and stands in silent reflection. Turning to allow the others to follow suit, he catches the heel of his shoe in the sacking that dresses the grave margins. He overbalances and nearly falls. Stephen puts out a protective arm.
GEORGE: I can manage.
Gritting his teeth with bitter anger, George limps away from the grave. Stephen follows at a discreet distance.
The rest of the mourners line up to pay their last respects. Menlove watches his mother clinging to Nowell and Ruth for support. They steer her in the direction of rapidly receding figures of George and Stephen.
EXT. EDWARDS HOME DAY
Groups of George Edwards’ parishioners gather in the street waiting to pay their respects to the grieving family. They step aside as a well-dressed clean-cut youth walks up to the house. Wilfrid makes his way up the garden path to the open front door.
INT. FRONT ROOM, EDWARDS HOME DAY
Wilfrid pushes his way through the crowd of mourners in the hallway. He sees Menlove in the front room dispensing cups of tea. Menlove looks up and smiles in greeting. He puts down the teapot.
WILFRID: Sorry. I missed the connection at Crewe and the next train stopped at every station between there and here.
MENLOVE: School’s given you permission?
WILFRID: I’m not missing anything important – just revision.
MENLOVE: It’s a long way to have come. You’re very kind.
WILFRID: I am so sorry, Menlove.
Finding sympathy hard to accept, Menlove avoids the issue.
MENLOVE: Hungry? There’s a mountain of food. (indicating the table where plates are piled high with sandwiches) Enough even for Hewlett.
Wilfrid smiles in sympathy and looks over to where George Edwards sits clutching his stick – well-wishers surrounding him – his face an impenetrable mask.
WILFRID: How’s he taken it?
MENLOVE: Badly. You’d never know it, though. Self-control is how my father lives his life. It’ll be hard for him, well, for both of them.
WILFRID: And you?
MENLOVE (changing the subject): I’ve just been offered a job – as a clinical assistant at the L.R.I.
WILFRID: Congratulations.
MENLOVE: The psychiatric department is relatively new. It’s a chance to make my mark. And it means I can be around to keep an eye on my folks.
The group around George disperses.
MENLOVE: I’ll introduce you. (leading Wilfrid to his father, he turns over his shoulder) Thank you for coming.
Wilfrid returns the smile.
George Edwards is staring into space as Menlove approaches.
MENLOVE: Father, this is Wilfrid Noyce. We met in North Wales.
Scrutinising Wilfrid, George offers his hand.
GEORGE: You climb, Mr. Noyce?
WILFRID: Just a novice.
GEORGE: Menlove needs a new partner now.
Wilfrid swallows. The lack of sentiment is unnerving.
EXT. RIVER TORRENT, NORTH WALES DAY
Fast-flowing water cascades over jagged black rocks. The noise of the rushing water is deafeningly loud. A large tree branch splinters as it tumbles end over end in the turbulence.
A wider view shows the river in spate as it flows through a deep-cut chasm. Wilfrid stands on the bridge, alarmed at what he sees.
WILFRID: Don't be a fool.
With complete disregard for his safety, Menlove clowns about, jumping across the chasm – back and forth – and laughs with the thrill of defiance.
WILFRID: You'll kill yourself.
Menlove frightens Wilfrid by landing badly. Teetering over the thirty or so feet down to the boiling water below, he looks down. He sees a series of four deep whirlpools interconnected by white water sluicing down deeply cut channels. He smiles as an idea strikes him. He shouts up Wilfrid on the bridge.
MENLOVE: I'm going to swim it. Throw me the rope.
WILFRID: Are you mad?
Menlove shins down the cliff towards a point from which he can jump in. A scrubby birch tree has found purchase for its roots by the water's edge. The cliff is sheer and the handholds are running with water. Only someone with scant regard for his safety would attempt it.
MENLOVE: Chuck me the rope, Wilf.
Wilfrid shrugs. He doesn't have a choice. The coil of rope spins through the air. Menlove clutches a boulder with one hand and throws out his free arm to catch it. Draping the rope over his shoulders, he clambers down to the birch tree.
Wilfrid leaves the bridge and uses an easier route to climb closer to the water.
Menlove strips down to his shorts and old-school rugby shirt. He then shakes the rope coils out into torrent, letting the cascading water carry the length of the rope downstream. One end he secures to the thickest part of the birch trunk. The other he loops around his waist and ties with a bowline.
Wilfrid is still too far away to prevent him from jumping in, so he watches helplessly as Menlove calmly and deliberately steps off the bank into the flowing stream. The force of the water quickly carries him out of sight.
EXT. RIVER (UNDERWATER) DAY
Everything is upside down and jumbled. A blur of arms and legs tumbling in the bubbling, boiling water. The rope comes spinning up and wraps itself around Menlove's neck. Struggling against the current, he wrenches the rope free and guides it away. A huge black rock looms out of the maelstrom. Menlove is thrown against it, glancing off it with his shoulder.
EXT. RIVER BANK DAY
Wilfrid searches the water for signs of Menlove. He sees the rope slithering across the rock slabs, indicating a forward momentum. Wilfrid continues to pick his way down the rocks on the river bank.
EXT. RIVER (UNDERWATER) DAY
Black, still water. No sign of turbulence. Menlove's head and shoulders float into view. No longer struggling against the force of the water, he's calm, apparently resigned.
EXT. RIVER BANK DAY
Wilfrid’s eyes desperately scan the pools, frantic with worry. Suddenly he spots movement. He watches Menlove's body projected down the final water chute into the bottom whirlpool. He can't tell whether or not he's conscious. Menlove is swallowed up again into the black water and the water closes over him.
EXT. RIVER (UNDERWATER) DAY
Menlove at the bottom of the pool, the black water cloudy with peat. His feet touching solid rock, he kicks upwards.
EXT. RIVER BANK DAY
Wilfrid gasps with relief as he sees Menlove's head break the water's surface. Menlove clambers out onto a ledge jutting out into the pool. Like a dog, he shakes the water from his curly hair and gives a loud exuberant howl of exhilaration.
EXT. OGWEN VALLEY ROAD EVE
Wilfrid and Menlove, now fully dressed and relatively dry, walk back to the climbers’ hut at Helyg. Menlove is still high as a kite.
MENLOVE: The force of the water was too great. I thought I’d had it when the rope got caught around my neck.
WILFRID (tight-lipped): Yes. I was already working out what to tell your parents.
The two men walk on in silence.
WILFRID: What were you trying to prove?
MENLOVE (simply): Myself.
WILFRID: And if you’d killed yourself –
MENLOVE: I didn’t.
WILFRID: – Who would I climb with?
Menlove looks at him; he can’t resist a smile.
MENLOVE: I’m forgiven then?
WILFRID (grinning): Psychiatrist? You’re the one who needs a psychiatrist.
Menlove throws his arm around Wilfrid and hugs him.
EXT. HELYG CLIMBERS’ CLUB HUT EVE
Menlove and Wilfrid leave the road and walk to the climbers’ hut.
MENLOVE: What are you doing this summer?
WILFRID: My parents are expecting me to spend it with them. Why?
MENLOVE: The club has asked me to write a Tryfan guidebook. Since at least one of the routes will carry your name, you might like to share the work. Think about it, you don't need to give me a decision yet.
WILFRID: I don't need to think about it. I'd love to.
EXT. SHROPSHIRE LANES DAY
Travelling fast down narrow Shropshire lanes, Menlove, bareheaded and eyes streaming in the wind, opens the throttle on the motorbike on which Hewlett had his accident. Riding pillion is Wilfrid. The bike has been patched together, the twisted front wheel replaced and the front forks bent back into shape.
EXT. STOKESAY VICARAGE DAY
They pull up in front of the vicarage in the Shropshire village of Stokesay and dismount.
An eight-year-old girl (HANNAH) at the top of a tall tree shouts out:
HANNAH: Uncle Menlove.
MENLOVE (waves): Hullo, Hannah. (to Wilfrid) My sister's eldest. She'll climb anything. (shouts at Hannah) Where are the grownups?
Following her pointed finger, he sees Stephen, wearing gardening gloves and carrying a spade, coming around the corner of the building.
STEPHEN: Hewlett’s bike? You must have a death wish. (shaking his head, Stephen leads the way to the front door) The others are in the kitchen.
MENLOVE: Settling in all right?
STEPHEN: A few frowns from the back pews, but what can you expect: country parish set in its ways. I'll win them over.
INT. DINING ROOM, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Hannah, hands together in prayer, says 'grace'.
HANNAH: For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.
The rest of the company joins in on the 'amen'. There's quite a crowd around the dining table. Stephen sits at the head, Ruth opposite him, Menlove beside Hannah. Wilfrid is on the opposite side next to Nowell with a baby in a high chair beside her. Stephen doles out the cottage pie and passes down the plates. They help themselves to steaming vegetables from the tureens in the middle of the table.
STEPHEN: We're lucky we've inherited a productive vegetable garden.
Hannah is already tucking into her food.
NOWELL: Hannah, manners, please.
WILFRID: Please don't mind me. I wouldn't want to stand between a hungry climber and her food.
HANNAH (mouth full): Everyone says I take after Uncle Hewlett. First to start eating and first to finish.
NOWELL: And don’t speak with your mouth full.
HANAH (ignoring her mother): Any new climbs, Uncle Menlove?
MENLOVE: Wilfrid's the one to ask.
WILFRID: None I can take credit for. Menlove has already done them all.
INT. STEPHEN’S STUDY, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Stephen and Menlove are alone together. Stephen's flicking through the Old Testament, looking for a particular reference.
STEPHEN (to himself): It's here somewhere. (then to Menlove) Pleasant sort of fellow.
Menlove idly scans the bookshelves which line one wall.
MENLOVE: Wilfrid? Yes. Fearless.
STEPHEN: You like him?
MENLOVE: Mm...
STEPHEN: And he likes you?
MENLOVE: I hope so.
Stephen considers his brother and then, returning to his search, finds what he's looking for.
STEPHEN: Here it is - in Hebrews. (shows the reference to Menlove) This might be a suitable text to work from.
MENLOVE (reads): Yes, that'll do.
STEPHEN (picking his words carefully): Menlove, you’ve chosen a lonely road –
MENLOVE: Please, Stephen –
STEPHEN: I’ve always prayed that you find someone to share your journey.
Menlove nods, a tacit acceptance of his brother’s concern.
INT. LANDING, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Wilfrid, a towel and dressing gown over his shoulder, and his wash kit in his hand, walks down the landing to the bathroom.
EXT. STOKESAY CHURCHYARD DAY
In snowy white surplice, Stephen leads the family past the half-timbered castle gatehouse, through the churchyard, to the church. Members of the congregation greet him, touching their caps deferentially. Wilfrid and Menlove attract curious looks from the parishioners gathering at the church door, waiting for their pastor to lead the way.
INT. BATHROOM, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Steam billows up as hot water pours into the bath. Wilfrid stands at the wash basin cleaning his teeth.
INT. STOKESAY CHURCH DAY
The pews of this small parish church are crammed. There are even some worshippers standing at the back. They listen attentively to Stephen in the raised pulpit reading the Benedictus. The front pew is occupied by the Edwards family, Menlove nearest the aisle.
STEPHEN: Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever more shall be. Amen.
The congregation responds ‘AMEN’. Stephen beckons to Menlove. This departure from the routine order of service causes a few murmurs. The parishioners lean forward with interest as Menlove leaves his seat and walks to the pulpit. Stephen makes the introduction.
STEPHEN: My brother will preach today's sermon. His chosen text is the eighth verse of Hebrews 10: 'Sacrifice, and offering for sin thou wouldst not, neither hadst pleasure therein; which are offered by the law.'
Stephen and Menlove change places in the pulpit. Menlove prepares to speak. Clearing his throat, he looks down to the front pew, catches Wilfrid's eye and receives an encouraging nod.
MENLOVE: First, I'd like to say that, for someone studying psychology, it was a great pleasure to be asked to talk to you about my subject here in church. During the last fifty years, the study of the mind has progressed enormously. One of the first things we discovered is that it is an imperfect instrument.
INT. BATHROOM, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Wilfrid lies immersed in the luxury of a hot bath. Menlove’s sermon continues out of vision.
MENLOVE (V.O.): It's difficult for us to realise what our minds are really doing - working to a large extent unconsciously, behind our backs.
INT. STOKESAY CHURCH DAY
Engrossed, Wilfrid leans forward.
MENLOVE: We may think we are acting for noble, higher motives - for instance, the service of God - whereas it's because of our own small, selfish desires. You can see dozens of examples of this in any community daily.
Wilfrid is aware of congregation members starting to shift in their seats.
INT. BATHROOM, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Bath water drains down the plug-hole as Wilfrid towels himself dry.
MENLOVE (V.O.): Most of us need rules by which to live our lives. Jesus, you will remember, laid down very few rules, certainly no strict rules of conduct. Definite rules are very dangerous things.
INT. STOKESAY CHURCH DAY
Older members of the congregation share disapproving looks. Menlove ploughs on regardless.
MENLOVE: The present criminal laws, for instance, fail to understand that when a man acts wrongly, it’s his fellows’ responsibility to help that man to better paths of action. When we examine the so-called criminal we find that in his place we might have done the same ourselves. Then take sex –
A couple of teenage girls giggle. Older parishioners cough in embarrassment. Ruth casts a warning look in Stephen's direction.
INT. MENLOVE’S BEDROOM, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Menlove lies in his bed, staring upwards. He can't get to sleep. The wind blowing in the tall tree outside his window casts strange shadows on the ceiling.
MENLOVE (V.O.): – At present, the institution of marriage is supposed to do for all cases. It can be a very fine institution, but is it fair to apply it to all cases?
INT. LANDING, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Wrapped in his dressing gown, Wilfrid walks down the landing. He pauses outside his bedroom, looking towards the shut door of Menlove’s bedroom.
MENLOVE (V.O.): For instance, certain people, through no fault of their own have feelings of love towards people of their own sex –
INT. STOKESAY CHURCH DAY
Wilfrid stares, incredulous at Menlove’s audacity.
MENLOVE: – Are we going to use our little rules and despise and punish these people, or are we going to try to understand and help them?
The murmur of comments starts to get louder. A couple of older men conspicuously leave their seats and turn their backs on Menlove.
INT. MENLOVE’S BEDROOM, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Staring at the ceiling, Menlove is suddenly alert to a light tapping on the bedroom door. He springs out of bed, crosses the room and opens the door. Wilfrid is standing on the threshold. He looks at Menlove steadily, then takes a couple of paces towards him. The atmosphere is suddenly charged with sexual potential.
MENLOVE (V.O.): It's no use shutting our eyes to these things. It would be wrong to preach disobedience to the laws but moral rules and codes are no substitute for understanding and sympathy.
They come together. Menlove wraps his arms around Wilfrid's slender frame and envelops him in an embrace. Wilfrid buries his face in Menlove's shoulder. His hands explore Wilfrid's face, stroking his smooth chin and running through his hair. Wilfrid turns his face towards Menlove's. Their lips brush in a chaste kiss.
MENLOVE (V.O.): What then are to be our principles? We are here alive on the earth, faced with certain needs and desires that are born in us. None of these desires is wrong in itself.
Their kissing becomes more urgent. Menlove's hands pull open Wilfrid's dressing gown. His chest is bare. Menlove kneels to kiss the naked skin. Wilfrid holds Menlove's curls in his hands, his head thrown back in ecstasy.
MENLOVE (V.O.): But we must achieve out of our feelings something positive, some feeling that makes us actively want the good of others. No man has seen God at any time, but if we love one another God dwelleth in us, and His love is perfected in us. God is love.
INT. STOKESAY CHURCH DAY
Menlove reaches the end of the sermon. He stands uncertain as to what to do next. There's an awful silence from the congregation. Wilfrid turns to look around him. The faces are stony and obdurate. Menlove's plea for tolerance has fallen on prejudiced ears. Stephen rescues the situation.
STEPHEN: Thank you, Menlove. There's much to think about in what you've said. A modern gloss on Christ's injunction that we should love our neighbour as we love ourselves – a message with relevance across the ages.
INT. MENLOVE’S BEDROOM, STOKESAY VICARAGE NIGHT
Menlove holds Wilfrid in his arms, kissing him tenderly, tears pouring down his face.
(IN THE NEXT POST, MENLOVE SETS UP HIS PSYCHIATRIC PRACTICE IN LIVERPOOL, WILFRID TAKES UP HIS PLACE AT KING’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, WHERE HE FALLS UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ARTHUR PIGOU, PROFESSOR OF ECONOMICS AND KEEN MOUNTAINEER.
NOW MENLOVE HAS A RIVAL FOR WILFRID‘S AFFECTIONS.)