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HOPE THOMPSON

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The Rusty Toque | Issue 3 | Drama | October 12, 2012

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CARDIGAN CONFIDENTIAL

                                                               FADE IN:

               INT. CRESTVIEW PUBLIC LIBRARY - DAY

               MISS SHACKLETON (40s) wears a cardigan over her shoulders.
               Her outfit is buttoned-down, neat, severe.  

               She looks around, preoccupied, bothered.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                             (suddenly attentive)
                         I met Ellen several weeks ago. When
                         she began her employment with me.
                         October third, to be precise. I
                         hired her myself, although Miss
                         Ross did attend the interview.
                         Hiring for positions in the adult
                         section falls under my purview,
                         being section head. Why Joan--I
                         should say, Miss Ross--finds it
                         necessary to attend adult section
                         interviews is a question only she
                         can answer. I would hardly waste my
                         time attending her children's
                         section interviews. I can think of
                         nothing more tiresome.

               She smooths her dress over her knees. 

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         And no, I didn't notice anything
                         out of the ordinary. Ellen arrived
                         on time Friday morning, as she
                         always does, and attended to her
                         shelving and circulation desk
                         duties. 

               She taps a pencil on the desk.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         Ellen is an excellent employee. I
                         can't speak highly enough of her
                         work. 

               A frown plays over her face.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         Or her. 

               She looks up, smiling suddenly.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         Funny you should ask. You see, we
                         had discussed meeting for coffee on
                         Saturday evening. Irish coffee. I 
                         have some coupons saved.

               Her gaze drifts to the narrow strips of hardwood floor
               beneath her chair--and to some dark knots, here and there. 

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         I sensed she might not agree to my
                         proposition. But in the nick of
                         time I remembered her performance
                         review and suggested we use the
                         coffee date to discuss it. 

               She rubs her hands.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         She's so very dedicated to her work
                         I hoped that would clinch it. But
                         could I be sure? 

               Her fingertips press together.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         I decided to play my trump card. I
                         suggested, rather wildly, that a
                         promotion might be imminent. 

               A smile plays over her face.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         And she said yes. She said yes 
                         to the date, to the Irish coffees,
                         to me! And how my heart soared to
                         the heavens--

               She looks up, angry.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         Officer, I am not denying I went to
                         her apartment. She didn't answer
                         the telephone. I called Friday
                         evening to confirm our plans for
                         the following night. She didn't
                         answer. I called several times.

               Her face tightens. A nerve twitches.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         I never stopped calling. I was
                         frantic.

               She re-folds her hands in her lap.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         After a fitful night, I began
                         calling again on Saturday morning
                         but still there was no answer. I
                         simply found it odd. She doesn't go
                         out. She has no--

               She fusses with her blouse, modestly.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         Ellen explicitly denied having any
                         sort of liaison with a man. I was
                         quite pleased about this and took
                         it as a declaration of her--

               Miss Shackleton's eyes dart around.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                             (laughing)
                         Free time! To devote to the
                         library. We're chronically short
                         staffed, you see. 

               She breathes deeply, collecting herself.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         Yes, I did. I happened to be in the
                         neighbourhood. I thought I might
                         catch her at home so I went to her
                         apartment and knocked on the door. 

               She leans forward, hands clasped tightly together.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         I got down on my hands and knees
                         and looked through the keyhole. 
                         I saw where she lives. I saw her
                         things. Where she eats her food.
                         The corner of a table. A chair.
                         Some clothes. Scattered.

               She pulls a tissue from her cardigan sleeve, sniffling.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         Librarians don't just disappear! If
                         anything's happened to her I don't
                         know what I'll do. Excuse me.

               She blows her nose. 

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         The nature of our relationship?
                         Why, colleagues! Librarians. We
                         enjoy working together. I fail to
                         see what you're driving at.

               She looks away.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON (V.O.)
                         I wanted to touch her... 

               She looks back.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         What have I--done with her? Why, 
                         nothing. Nothing! I could never 
                         hurt Ellen. I love her. I’ve always 
                         loved her…

               Panic plays over her face. She sits up straight.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         I mean, in my head! Surely it's not
                         a crime to imagine one's own
                         pleasure? One's own happiness? 

               She dabs tears from her eyes.

                                   MISS SHACKLETON
                         I've always had a rich mental
                         life. 

               Miss Shackleton sighs, staring forward.

                                                         FADE OUT.

HOPE THOMPSON is a playwright and screenwriter. Her theatre work includes the one-act plays She Walks the Line, Green and Hospital Green, all produced at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. Hope also wrote Tyrolia, a tragicomedy in which a group of vacationers becomes trapped in a ski chalet under an avalanche. Tyrolia premiered at the 2008 Toronto Fringe Festival, with Sky Gilbert directing. A resident of the Canadian Film Centre’s Writer’s Lab, Hope has written and directed several short films, including the award-winning mystery-comedies, Trailing Arbutus, It Happened in the Stacks and Switch, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival. Hope has several new film and theatre projects in development.