Int. Sitting room. Evening. Helen [mid-60s] lower middle class, former dinner lady, sits in her neat house watching TV. She does not look at the camera.

Helen: I’m on Call the Midwife downstairs. He’s got QI on in the bedroom. But there’s only so many babies you can watch being born … And I quite like Stephen Fry.

The murmur of the TV underscores.

Helen: Only 3 to 4% of mammals are ever faithful. Did you know that? Bats, muskrats and wolves apparently. Wolves? You don’t expect that. Then the one with the beard says … “Monogamy. Bigamy. All one wife too many.”

Helen laughs.

Helen: And we’re laughing. He’s got his arm around me. And we’re laughing … When he says –

Helen wavers, giving little away. Yet inwardly she is forcing herself on.

Helen: “I’m leaving.”

A look of absolute blank on Helen’s face, the shock of this moment once more hitting her.

Helen: 43 years.

Cut to: Int. Bathroom. House. Night. Helen now brushing her teeth in front of the mirror.

Helen: It’s not as if we didn’t try.

Two well-worn wedding rings left on the shelf close by.

Helen: No one stays that long if none of it is working. We travelled. We had one another. We were family. We gave each other confidence. We built a good life together. We owned our own property. Yes we argued. Yes we didn’t like everything. But we talked about it. We thrashed things out. Compromise at times, yes. But is that such a bad thing? Rubbing along?

Helen, straight to camera.



Helen: “But your door is always open. You’d just let anyone in, Helen, if it was up to you.”

That’s when I say – “No one’s listening.”

“Exactly. That’s my point.” And now he’s getting really agitated. “No one’s listening … If you’d been listening then maybe this wouldn’t come as such a surprise.”

She looks away, tears once more threatening.



Helen: I thought together we were stronger.



Places toothbrush in holder.



Helen: Who wants to be alone?



Cut to:



Int. Kitchen. House. London. Night. Helen stands, filling up a hot water bottle from a kettle.

Helen: “You’ll get over it. It won’t be as bad as you expect. I promise.” He says that but …



She tips the bottle, makes sure the top is on tight.



Helen: It’s the balance and checks. That’s what marriage is. That’s what any union’s for. It made me feel safe. It made me feel secure. It kept me in line. I thought we were working towards something. Us. A team. There’s no “i” in team.



She clears up around her, folding a Union Jack tea towel and placing it on the side.



Helen: “But what about freedom? Freedom to do as you choose. To spend your money as you choose. To live as you choose, Helen.” Well that got to me …



“To screw as you choose?”



“Yes, Helen. Yes.”



Helen: I’m getting too old for this.



Int. Bedroom. House. Night.



Helen now in bed, getting herself ready to sleep.



Helen: That’s when I vowed he’d pay. You don’t just leave like that and then nothing.



She reaches for a couple of sleeping pills and a glass of water.



Helen: “This is going to kick you where it hurts. It’ll cost. And forget regret.”



A beat.



Helen: He just stands there calm.



“We’ll see. We’ll see.”



Helen: 43 years.



Helen turns off the light, lies in the dark.



A beat.



Helen: It would have been easier if he’d had an affair. He’d have lost his head, but at least he’d have come back. I might have even forgiven him. But this … This … There’s no coming back from this. Once you’re out. You’re out.



You left. And that’s it. That’s it.



“What do I do now?”



A beat.



“You live with it.”



Helen: Then he turns and says –



“But we’ll always have Paris.”



Helen stares back up at the ceiling, half smiles –



Helen: Which made me laugh.



Because he hated the French.



Helen lies in the darkness, alone, quietly laughing to herself. Sad laughter, sobering to a still.



The End