A Disappearance (3)

III.

We see from above, Danny asleep in a tangle of sheets and blankets. His alarm clock sounds and he reaches out, turns it off and continues to sleep.

Time passes. He wakes bleary eyed and looks at the time.

DANNY: No!

He leaps out of bed, into his clothes and is out the door running. We see a bus by the stop and a queue getting on. As Danny gets close the bus moves away. He redoubles his efforts and jumps onto the tailboard clutching the pole to steady himself.

The bus moves on but quickly joins a queue. We see Danny continuously glancing out of the side and central windows. We can see now that there are road works and filter lights. Finally, the bus is through and we see that we have returned to the area of the first scene.

The bus, in the middle lane of traffic, stops at traffic lights. Danny is up and off the back. He dodges cars and reaches the pavement running. As he runs he glances at his watch.

DANNY: Forty minutes late. Pressman will have my guts for garters!

As he turns into the factory gates his legs disappear from under him and he sprawls onto paving slabs. As he looks up from the pavement he sees his Supervisor get up from his position at the office window and run to bolt the main doors on him like a leper. He hears his dismissal shouted at him through the letterbox.

SUPERVISOR: Sparkes, you're sacked.

An envelope is pushed through the main letterbox and falls to the ground.

SUPERVISOR: That's what you're owned, now get out of here and don't come back!

Danny fumes in his helpless condition - he beats at the ground in rage - and his frustration and anger keep him in full view of the prying eyes at the factory windows. It takes a full hour for him to regain his composure - we flit from shot to shot of his lying in humiliation and the eyes at the factory windows that stare with aweful fascination then gradually drift or are ordered away.
Danny feels as though the whole world, perhaps through some satellite transmission, has just witnessed his humiliation. The general desire of just about everyone who lived around here, in him had become a fervent wish, "We gotta get outta this place".

Eventually, he becomes sufficiently calm that he can use his relaxation technique and recover his legs. He picks himself up and dusts himself down, retrieves the money and leaves.

We follow him into an Off Licence. He counts out the money and leaves with a crate of booze. He hails a taxi which deposits him at his flat. The crate is carried to his bedroom. He collapses onto the bed and begins to methodically down bottle after bottle.

Brian Kennedy's 'He talks like Traffic' plays as we quickly cut from shot to shot of Danny's mammoth drinking session - we see him pacing the floor, laid out on the bed, staring out of the window, striking his fists and leaning against the wall - all the time murmuring to himself. He is well advanced when the door bell rings. The ringing takes time to register but whoever it is persists.

DANNY: Sod off, sod off, sod off.

He reels to the window, opens it and leans out rather far. He looks down but cannot see who is in the doorwell.

DANNY: Fuck off, can't you. Go a fuckin' way. I'm not well, not in. Don't want you round. Away, away and go.

The ringing continues. He reels to the door ready to give whoever a piece of his mind. It is the brown eyed woman.

WOMAN: I've been trying to find out if you were alright. I didn't know where you lived. The hospital wouldn't give me an address or tell me anything. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.

Danny's blurred thoughts turn to human contact and the release of his frustrations.

DANNY: There ... is something, yes. Something that will help. I need help, yes. Need help now. You see, not well, not well.

WOMAN: Then I'll come in?

DANNY: Yes. Come in? Yes. You are most welcome. Most welcome indeed.

The woman walks past Danny and up the narrow staircase to his upstairs flat. He follows behind, his eyes focusing on her rear as she ascends ahead of him.

Almost before they are in his room and the door closes behind him he is ripping at her clothes, tearing at her knickers, scoring her pale bum with his fingernails. For a moment she breaks free from his grasp but there is nowhere to run and he forces her body onto the bed pushing her down with his bulk. One hand chokes her screams and the other fumbles with his zip, tugs at his pants and discovers that where there should have been a penis erect for action there is no penis at all.

Danny flips. He goes into overdrive and begins to run around the room like a decapitated chicken. He makes about four circuits before his legs vanish too. He lies where he falls and sobs into the floorboards.

As she hears Danny's despair the woman stops her own tears. She possesses a quality of compassion that disciplines her natural fear and hatred of the attempted act. It was this same depth of character had drawn her to him in the street when no one else would offer help. It now helps her up from the bed where she had been so rudely placed and sends her across the floor to gather Danny in her arms as a mother would a child and to mingle her tears with his grief. When their sorrow is exhausted they sleep.

With the first fading of the day's light the woman wakes gently and quietly makes Danny comfortable putting a pillow under his head and spreading a blanket over his body. She dresses herself quickly and before leaving scribbles a note on a postcard which she leaves on the floor by the still sleeping man.

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The Animals - We've Gotta Get Out Of This Place.