Episode One
The Lion and the Adder – Episode 1 - Transcript
SCENE 1
A SLEEPY WINTER'S EVENING. CLARENCE PARKS SITS COSY IN HIS LIVING ROOM, LISTENING TO A SLOW, SOFT SONG ON THE GRAMOPHONE. A FIRE BURNS HAPPILY IN THE GRATE. PARKS TURNS A PAGE OF HIS BOOK AND YAWNS.
THE SONG FINISHES, LEAVING THE FUZZY CLICKING SOUND OF A RECORD SPINNING. PARKS SITS FOR A MOMENT, STILL READING.
THEN - SOMETHING CLATTERS OUTSIDE.
PARKS: Hello?
HE STOPS TO LISTEN BUT THE SOUND DOESN'T COME AGAIN. HE GETS TO HIS FEET, CAUTIOUS, AND LIFTS THE NEEDLE FROM THE RECORD, FILLING THE ROOM WITH SILENCE. THEN, AGAIN, A NOISE FROM OUTSIDE.
PARKS: Is there someone...?
SLOWLY, HE GOES TO THE FRONT DOOR, PUTTING THE CHAIN ACROSS BEFORE CREAKING IT OPEN TO LOOK OUTSIDE.
PARKS: (CALLING) Hello? Is someone out there? (BEAT) It's awfully late, people are trying to sleep! (BEAT) Hello? (BEAT) Hm. Must have run off.
HE LOCKS THE DOOR WITH A LITTLE MORE FORCE THAN A CALM PERSON WOULD. THEN HE LAUGHS AS IF TRYING TO CONVINCE HIMSELF EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT.
PARKS: This is what you get for dozing on the sofa, old boy. Dreaming things up.
HE STARTS HUMMING TO HIMSELF TUNELESSLY, AND STARTS TO TIDY UP.
A SHORT, SUDDEN BLAST OF POWER SURGES THROUGH THE HOUSE WITH A SOUND LIKE RUSHING WIND, RATTLING THE FURNITURE. PARKS GASPS IN HORROR AT THE SUDDEN, ABSOLUTE INVASION. THE SURGE IS GONE AS ABRUPTLY AS IT CAME, LEAVING PARKS TERRIFIED AND BREATHLESS.
PARKS: What- What was- No! NO!
MAGIC CRACKLES THROUGH THE AIR - A BASSY THUMPING SOUND - SOMETHING IS COMING CLOSER
PARKS: No! NO!
HE SCREAMS AND THERE IS A SURGING, SPARKING RUSH OF MAGIC. THEN - SILENCE, SAVE THE TICKING OF THE CLOCK AND THE LOW THRUM OF MAGIC IN THE AIR.
OPENING CREDITS
THEME MUSIC PLAYS
H.R. OWEN: The Lion and the Adder. Created by H.R. Owen and starring H.R Owen as Robin Sylvester, Paul Warren as Nicholas Hawthorn, and Méabh de Brún as Evelyn 'Bash' Sebastian. Episode One.
THEME MUSIC ENDS
SCENE 2
A BRIGHT, WINTERY DAY ON A RESIDENTIAL STREET IN LONDON, 1921. NICHOLAS IS WAITING FOR ROBIN, BLOWING ON HIS HANDS AND STAMPING HIS FEET TO KEEP WARM. ROBIN COMES JOGGING DOWN THE STREET TOWARDS HIM, OUT OF BREATH.
ROBIN: Nicholas! I'm so dreadfully sorry, I slept in! Have you been here long? You must be damn near frozen to the pavement by now.
NICHOLAS: Nope. I'm fine.
ROBIN: Oh. The desk sergeant said 8AM... I-I didn't get the wrong time again?
NICHOLAS: Nope. (BEAT) Well. Only because he gave you the wrong time. CID policy. Whenever we want you to be somewhere, we give you half an hour's head start. I've only been here five minutes.
ROBIN: I see. Are you doing this to all your consultants?
NICHOLAS: Nope. Just you. Here.
HE HANDS ROBIN A BAG FULL OF CLINKING EQUIPMENT. ROBIN STAGGERS UNDER THE SUDDEN WEIGHT.
ROBIN: Ye gods, Col. Is this my punishment - lugging a bag of rocks around with me all morning?
NICHOLAS: It's a tripod. For this.
ROBIN: Oh, marvellous!
ROBIN TAKES THE PROJECTOR TORCH AND TURNS IT ON, MAKING IT THRUM WITH WITH POWER.
NICHOLAS: Don't shine it in your eyes - or mine! (ROBIN SWITCHES THE TORCH OFF) Keep it in your pocket, and don't use it unless I tell you to.
ROBIN: Can I have a siphon, too?
NICHOLAS: No. You'd only spray yourself in the face. I've got mine though. (SIGHS) Number 15. Looks ordinary enough.
ROBIN: Mm. Curtains are all closed, though, and the milk's not been taken in.
NICHOLAS: Might be sleeping late. (POINTED) Some people do.
ROBIN: Maybe. Maybe not though.
NICHOLAS: Robin, you do realise we want to be wrong about this, don't you? That our being wrong is actually the optimum outcome?
ROBIN: Well. Optimum, yes. But not the most interesting.
NICHOLAS: This is exactly why I didn't want you tagging along. You'd kick a wasp's nest if you thought it might get you some research material.
ROBIN: Don't be silly, Col. I don't research wasps. Anyway, I'm here now, and you must make the most of me.
NICHOLAS: Yes, on that point. Don't go over my head again. I don't appreciate it.
ROBIN: Sorry. Couldn't resist. DCS Charlton's a member of my club.
NICHOLAS: DCS Charlton doesn't know you like I do.
ROBIN: Oh, my dear, sweet Collie. Nobody does.
NICHOLAS: (NOT IMPRESSED) Hm. Hang on - is your ear bleeding?
ROBIN: Huh? I don't think so...
NICHOLAS: There's red on it.
ROBIN: (REALISING) Oh. Oh, no, it's uh. Um. (CLEARS THROAT) Well, lipstick. Actually.
NICHOLAS: I see. Tell me again why you slept in?
ROBIN: Oh, shut up. Is it gone?
NICHOLAS: Yeah, you got it. (BEAT) Of course, now they're red because you're blushing...
ROBIN: (LOUDLY) Number 15, was it?
NICHOLAS LAUGHS, THEN KNOCKS ON THE DOOR. AFTER A PAUSE, THE DOOR OPENS, JUST A CRACK. MRS BUCKLEY PEERS OUT.
NICHOLAS: Mrs Buckley?
MRS BUCKLEY: Yes?
NICHOLAS: I'm Detective Inspector Nicholas Hawthorn, this is my colleague, Robin Sylvester. May we come in?
MRS BUCKLEY: What's this about?
NICHOLAS: It's about your son, Mrs Buckley. We understand he's not been seen for a few days and we hoped you might be able to shed some light on the matter.
MRS BUCKLEY: Mm. I-I don't know anything about that.
ROBIN: You never know. Any information, no matter how seemingly innocuous, might be enough to blow the whole case open. Do let's talk, Mrs Buckley, for your son's sake. It'll only take a moment.
MRS BUCKLEY: ...I suppose. Quick, mind. I haven't got all day.
SCENE 3
INSIDE MRS BUCKLEY'S HOUSE - A COLD, UNCOMFORTABLE SPACE, SMALL AND KEPT DARK DESPITE THE BRIGHT DAY OUTSIDE. ROBIN AND NICHOLAS ENTER AND MRS BUCKLEY CLOSES THE DOOR BEHIND THEM WITH A SNAP - SHUTTING OUT THE WORLD.
MRS BUCKLEY: Can I take your bag?
ROBIN: No, I'll hang onto it, thanks. I'll keep the coat too - you keep a brisk house, if you don't mind my saying. Sitting room through here, yes?
THEY MOVE THROUGH TO THE LIVING ROOM.
NICHOLAS: Take the armchair, Mrs Buckley.
MRS BUCKLEY: Um... I, uh...
ROBIN: Oh, don't mind me, I'll just have a little look 'round while m'colleague gets on with the questions.
NICHOLAS: (MORE FIRMLY) Sit down, Mrs Buckley.
A PAUSE. THEN, RELUCTANTLY, SHE SITS.
NICHOLAS: There. Now. As I said outside, your son, Charles, has been missing for some days now. Do you have any idea where he might be?
MRS BUCKLEY: (PAUSE) No.
NICHOLAS: Do you remember when you last saw him?
MRS BUCKLEY: Uh. N-No.
ROBIN: Mind if I open the curtains?
MRS BUCKLEY: (FLUSTERED) No! I-I mean. Please don't!
ROBIN: (BEAT) Right-o.
NICHOLAS: His boss at the library says he didn't come in on Tuesday. Gave us a bell when he didn't show up on Wednesday either. He fiancee says you usually see him Tuesday nights, is that right?
MRS BUCKLEY HESITATES, APPARENTLY NOT SURE HOW TO ANSWER.
MRS BUCKLEY: Um... Y-Yes.
NICHOLAS: Did you see him this Tuesday gone? Would be a big help, if we could narrow down the timeline a little.
MRS BUCKLEY: Uh...
ROBIN: It's a lovely shrine you have here, Mrs Buckley. Might I make a libation? Greet the house and so on?
MRS BUCKLEY: I'd rather you didn't.
NICHOLAS: Tuesday night, Mrs Buckley.
MRS BUCKLEY: (GROWING FLUSTERED) I... I don't remember.
ROBIN: You don't remember? It was only two days ago.
MRS BUCKLEY: I'm not good at remembering things.
NICHOLAS: It's a simple question, Mrs Buckley. Was he here or wasn't he?
MRS BUCKLEY: (PICKING HER STORY AND STICKING TO IT) Yes, he was. I remember now. He came and we talked a bit and then he left again.
ROBIN: He didn't make a libation either. A little unusual, what?
MRS BUCKLEY: What?
ROBIN: Your offering bowl's dry. You're out of wine and it doesn't look like anything's been offered for, ooh, a few days at least. The house must be getting awfully restless. I know my little spooks get fractious if they so much as miss their breakfast.
MRS BUCKLEY: I- I haven't got round to it?
NICHOLAS: I say, you weren't kidding, Robin - it's jolly cold in here. I can see my breath! Do you not feel it, Mrs Buckley?
MRS BUCKLEY: I-I don't- Oh- You should leave!
ROBIN FLICKS A LIGHT SWITCH ON AND OFF.
ROBIN: Light's not working either.
MRS BUCKLEY: It's broken.
NICHOLAS: You should get your Charles to have a look at it. Handy, having an electrician in the family.
MRS BUCKLEY: Y-Yes, he'll fix it.
ROBIN: I thought he worked at the library. Didn't you just say, Col, he works at the local library?
NICHOLAS: Oh. So I did. Which is it, Mrs Buckley? Is he an electrician, or a librarian?
MRS BUCKLEY: (THINKING FAST) He- He's both. He does both. Spare time. More money.
ROBIN: Well. There have been stranger combinations, I suppose. And his fiancee, how do you like her?
MRS BUCKLEY: I don't. I, uh. I don't know her.
NICHOLAS: Ah, you got us there. No fiancee. Young Charles has been happily married for two and half years.
ROBIN: Funny you didn't correct us on that earlier.
MRS BUCKLEY: I forgot. I'm old, I forget things.
ROBIN: You're not that old, Mrs Buckley. The thing inside you, though... God only knows how ancient that is.
A BEAT. THEN, AN INHUMAN ROAR AS MRS BUCKLEY - OR RATHER, THE THING WEARING HER - LAUNCHES HERSELF AT NICHOLAS. HE THROWS HIMSELF BACKWARDS WITH A SHOUT.
NICHOLAS: Good God!
MRS BUCKLEY CANNONS INTO HIM, SNARLING AND SNAPPING.
ROBIN: Nicholas, the holy water!
NICHOLAS: Yeah, soon as I've got a hand free, Robin!
HE KICKS MRS BUCKLEY IN THE CHEST, KNOCKING THE WIND OUT OF HER AND SENDING HER SPRAWLING BACKWARDS.
ROBIN: Don't kick her, now she's angry!
NICHOLAS: She was already angry!
MRS BUCKLEY RECOVERS, SCRAMBLING AND GROWLING, READY TO CHARGE AGAIN. ROBIN BACKS AWAY, KNOCKING OVER PIECES OF FURNITURE AND ORNAMENTS AS HE GOES.
ROBIN: (INCREASINGLY PANICKED) Nicholas. Nicholas! The holy water-
NICHOLAS: I've got it-
ROBIN: Now, please!
MRS BUCKLEY ROARS AGAIN. ROBIN SQUEALS, AND NICHOLAS UNLOADS A SPRAY OF HOLY WATER FROM HIS SIPHON. IT HISSES AND BURNS AS IT HITS MRS BUCKLEY, MAKING HER HOWL IN PAIN AND RAGE.
NICHOLAS: Robin, the torch!
ROBIN: Oh, crumbs, the button's stuck, hold on, hold on, hold on-
MRS BUCKLEY MAKES ANOTHER GROWLING LEAP, BUT AS SHE DOES, ROBIN FINALLY CLICKS HIS TORCH ON.
ROBIN: Aaaah-HA!
MRS BUCKLEY SLAMS BODILY INTO A SUDDEN MAGICAL BARRIER, MAKING IT THWANG AND THWING AND OTHER SUCH MAGICAL NOISES. INSTANTLY, HER GROWLS ARE MUFFLED BY THE FORCE FIELD.
ROBIN: Haha! How'd you like that, you old devil? The Ever Ready Soldier Boy earns his name, and then some!
NICHOLAS: (BEAT) What?
ROBIN: It's the... the name of the torch. Ever Ready Soldier Boy. I expect the Met buys them in bulk, cheaper than making their own. They just slot a little thingamajig on the end and-
NICHOLAS: Oh. I thought you were giving yourself a nickname or something.
ROBIN: What? No. No, I was never a soldier, Collie, you know that. Fetch that tripod, would you? Save me standing here till the cows come home.
NICHOLAS: Right. Sorry.
ROBIN SLOTS THE TORCH INTO POSITION, SCREWING IT INTO PLACE.
ROBIN: There we are. Safe as houses. Oh, I say, old boy! You're bleeding!
NICHOLAS: Am I? Oh.
HE SNIFFS, WINCING NOW HE KNOWS HE'S HURT.
ROBIN: Do you have a hankie? Course you do, terribly well-trained. Let me look at you.
NICHOLAS: There's more important things-
ROBIN: It'll only take a moment. It's not like the wee beastie's going anywhere. Watch my finger. That's it.
NICHOLAS: I'm not concussed. It's just a bloody nose.
ROBIN: Mind your language.
NICHOLAS: I didn't mean-!
ROBIN: Oh, I'm only teasing. No, you're alright. Go on, better fetch the clean-up crew.
NICHOLAS EXITS TO THE CORRIDOR. WE HEAR HIM OPEN THE FRONT DOOR AND GO OUT. MRS BUCKLEY MAKES SOME INCOHERENT NOISES.
ROBIN: Oh, God. Are you trying to speak? It's no good, dear. You popped the old lady's jaw quite out of its hinge while you were making all that racket. I'm sure someone will see to it once we've safely seen you off-
A WET, GRISTLY SOUND AS MRS BUCKLEY REATTACHES HER OWN DISLOCATED JAW.
ROBIN: Urgh. Well. One less thing to worry about, I suppose.
NICHOLAS: (OFF) Alright boy, come on in. Through here.
NICHOLAS LEADS THE CLEAN-UP CREW, INCLUDING RODERICK, INTO THE ROOM. THE CLEAN-UP CREW START SETTING UP THEIR EQUIPMENT.
NICHOLAS: Will you have enough room around this furniture?
RODERICK: Yes, sir, we should be- Oh! Doctor Sylvester!
ROBIN: Yes? Sorry, am I in the way?
RODERICK: (KEEN) Not at all, sir. I-I hadn't realised you'd be here. You're very welcome to stay - we'll be using Planchett's Generalised Dismissal.
ROBIN: Ah, good old Planchett. No, I've seen enough of him to last a lifetime, thank you! I'm going for a sniff around the house, see if I can scrounge up any clues. With your Inspector's permission, of course.
NICHOLAS: Yes, alright. Don't touch anything.
ROBIN: Charming. And after I saved your life, too. Uh, good job, um...
RODERICK: Roderick, sir.
ROBIN: Not a Sir, Roderick. Please, call me Robin.
RODERICK: (DELIGHTED) Oh, I'm sure I couldn't possibly-
BUT ROBIN IS ALREADY GONE, WHISTLING AS HE GOES. MRS BUCKLEY SCRAPES AT THE BARRIER, FRUSTRATED.
MRS BUCKLEY: What is it?
RODERICK: Quiet down!
HE SPRAYS HER WITH HOLY WATER, MAKING HER ROAR AS IT BURNS HER.
NICHOLAS: Oi! There's no need for that!
BEAT. NICHOLAS REALISES THIS MIGHT NOT BE THE NORMAL RESPONSE PEOPLE HAVE TO THE SUFFERING OF DEMONS.
NICHOLAS: She's our prisoner!
RODERICK: It's a demon.
NICHOLAS: A demon in a trap. It's not like it's going anywhere.
RODERICK: (BEAT) As you wish, sir.
MRS BUCKLEY HITS THE FORCE FIELD, GROWLING WITH FRUSTRATION
MRS BUCKLEY: What IS it!
NICHOLAS: Alright, alright! It's been a while since you were up this side of things, hasn't it? It is a pentagram projector. There's a shade on the bulb, see? In low light, like this, it casts a pretty effective demon trap onto whatever it's pointed at - the ceiling, for example.
RODERICK: Mind your feet, Inspector.
NICHOLAS: That's the real stuff he's laying down, see? Salt and iron. Something a bit more permanent while they get started on the exorcism.
RODERICK: You really oughtn't talk to them, sir. It's not right.
NICHOLAS: Thank you, Roderick.
THE CLEAN-UP TEAM START CHANTING IN LATIN, SOUNDING A LITTLE BORED. THEY REPEAT THE SAME WORDS IN THE BACKGROUND AS NICHOLAS AND MRS BUCKLEY TALK. NICHOLAS CUTS IN AT AROUND THE FIRST "SUBVENITE".
CLEANERS: (TOGETHER) Exorere, potestates, et subvenite, nunc in momento necessitatis nostrae. Exorere, potestates, et subvenite, nunc in momento necessitatis nostrae. In choro, te imperamus daemon, relinque hoc corpus et redire illiuc venisti. Te imperamus, relinque cum festinatione. Te obligamus ad mandatum nostrum per voluntatem et vim. Te imperamus discede nunc, non revertere.
NICHOLAS: Ah, here we go. They'll get the magic up and running, perform the exorcism, and have you home in time for tea.
MRS BUCKLEY GROWLS.
MRS BUCKLEY: There is a faster way...
THE CLEAN-UP TEAM'S VOICE FALTER AS THEY STOP CHANTING ONE BY ONE
MRS BUCKLEY: If you would use your names, I would reward you.
RODERICK: That's exactly why we don't talk to them, sir.
NICHOLAS: Yeah, I'm not an idiot. Nice try, pet, but nobody's in such a hurry to see you go that they'd bind you by name. We'll take this slow and steady.
THE CLEANERS START CHANTING AGAIN. MRS BUCKLEY HOWLS, THROWING HERSELF AGAINST THE BOUNDARIES OF HER ENCLOSURE.
NICHOLAS: Well. If you're going to be like that.
NICHOLAS EXITS, LEAVING THE CLEANERS CHANTING WHILE MRS BUCKLEY RAGES.
SCENE 4
IN MRS BUCKLEY'S KITCHEN - A HARD LITTLE ROOM WITH A LEAKY TAP DRIPPING. THE CLEANERS' CHANTING CAN BE DISTANTLY HEARD FROM THE LIVING ROOM. ROBIN HUMS TO HIMSELF AS HE SEARCHES THE ROOM.
ROBIN: Dishes unwashed. No signs of a struggle. Didn't happen in here then. Let's see, over the window- Oh, blast.
HE STRUGGLES TO REACH THE TOP OF THE WINDOW, JUMPING AND HUFFING. NICHOLAS ENTERS.
NICHOLAS: (LAUGHING) Need a hand?
ROBIN: My hands aren't the problem - my legs are the ones thwarting me. I was just trying to see what kind of lintel protections she had up.
NICHOLAS: Here, let me.
NICHOLAS MOVES OVER TO THE WINDOW AND UNDOES THE HATCH EASILY.
NICHOLAS: Nothing unusual. Rosemary, sage, and salt.
ROBIN: Hm. She had the same over the front door, all present and correct. Where's north?
NICHOLAS: That way. You looking for the sigils? Try the cupboard under the stairs. Newer buildings like this, they usually put them in there.
ROBIN: Oh? Why there?
NICHOLAS: Centre of the home, I suppose.
ROBIN OPENS THE CUPBOARD AND DIVES IN, RUMMAGING THROUGH COATS AND CLUTTER.
NICHOLAS: Careful! There might be evidence in there!
ROBIN: Collie, my beloved, I hardly think anyone's been summoning demons in the cupboard under the stairs. You're right though, there's evidence! (MUTTERING) Pateface!
THERE'S A SMALL CRACK LIKE AN ELECTRIC SPARK.
ROBIN: Ow! There she blows!
NICHOLAS: Robin!
ROBIN EMERGES, LAUGHING.
ROBIN: Keep your hair on, I was just checking the sigils. They're fine.
NICHOLAS: What do you mean, fine?
ROBIN: I mean, there's nothing wrong with them. All ship-shape and Bristol fashion. Tested them myself - got a nice little zing for my troubles.
NICHOLAS: Oh. (REALISING) Oh, blast.
ROBIN: Mm. 'Fraid so. I haven't ventured upstairs yet but I bet you six bob you'll find a botched summoning in the back bedroom, complete with F. W. Woolworth's finest black candles and wards so full of holes even a measly imp couldn't fail to break loose.
NICHOLAS: (SIGHING) She summoned it herself. And then the protections on the house-
ROBIN: All these sensible precautions designed to keep malevolent forces out. Stands to reason they'd be able to keep them in, too.
NICHOLAS: I suppose it let us in because it hoped we might get it out somehow.
ROBIN: That's a rather generous assessment of the beast's intelligence. For my money, it was just hungry and thought we looked a pair of tasty morsels. Jolly lucky her son didn't come inside when he was round on Tuesday - though why it took him two block-headed days to phone you lot, I don't know.
NICHOLAS: I suppose it's hard to believe, isn't it. That someone you know might be... You know. (SIGHING) Ah well. As soon as the cleaners are finished, we'll pop her in an ambulance and search properly for the summoning. Poor woman.
ROBIN: Poor woman? I should say she got precisely what she deserved.
NICHOLAS: Robin!
ROBIN: You can't put your hand in the fire and complain you got burnt - much less when you're the one who set the blaze. She brought it on herself, and for what? Some witless, romantic notion of compelling a demon to do her bidding. Ridiculous behaviour.
NICHOLAS: She's dehydrated, half-starved, had a demon controlling her for days, and very likely has some broken ribs, after the kick I gave her. But no, wouldn't want to strain your decency by showing a little sympathy.
ROBIN: I- ...sorry. She was irresponsible and foolish - but you're right. She doesn't deserve that.
NICHOLAS MAKES A SOFT SOUND OF SATISFACTION. IN THE BACKGROUND, THE CLEANERS CONTINUE CHANTING AND AN ELECTRICAL BUZZ BEGINS AS THE MAGIC RISES.
ROBIN: Ooh, I felt that. Magic always makes me feel like I've been licking batteries. Walk me out?
NICHOLAS: Oh, now the excitement's over, you're off, is that it?
THEY WALK AND TALK, MOVING THROUGH MRS BUCKLEY'S HOUSE, PAST THE LIVING ROOM WITH THE CLEANER'S CHANTING LATIN AND OUT INTO THE STREET BEYOND.
ROBIN: Just so. I've seen all I need to. Besides, I'm interviewing this afternoon. Got to find a new valet.
NICHOLAS: What happened to your old one?
ROBIN: (DRAMATIC) I have been... abandoned. (NICHOLAS LAUGHS) He's getting married, the rotter, and trotting off to Shrewsbury of all places, to be closer to his in-laws. I ask you! Sheer cruelty, I call it.
NICHOLAS: Yes, tragic. How ever will you survive without someone to brush your hair and pick your socks out every morning.
ROBIN: (LAUGHING) Well, quite. Hence the urgent need to find a replacement. Care to join me?
NICHOLAS: I don't know the first thing about valets. Some of us have to tie our own shoelaces, you know.
ROBIN: And a sterling job you do, too. The first time I saw you, I thought to myself, "Robin, my boy, here's a man who knows how to keep his boots on."
NICHOLAS: Don't valets usually come from an agency? What do you have to interview them for?
ROBIN: A man's valet is his most intimate companion, Nicholas. He will be with me while I work, while I bathe, while I eat and sleep and dream. He will take up residence in the innermost sanctum of my home, with access to all the most secret parts of my life. There will be no part of my existence not subject to his judgement, nor able to stand independent of his support. Little wonder I prefer a hands-on approach to his... discovery.
NICHOLAS: Mmhmm.
ROBIN: Besides, the last agency man I had kept running my bath too hot. I swear, the chap was trying to boil me alive! Very slowly. I say, how's that for scheme - murder by instalments. A plan to fit every pocket!
NICHOLAS: I'll keep it in mind if I ever feel like switching teams.
ROBIN: I expect my share of the profits! Toodle-oo!
NICHOLAS: (LAUGHING) Bye, Robin.
SCENE 5
NICHOLAS'S OFFICE AT SCOTLAND YARD. THERE IS A LARGER OFFICE OUTSIDE, FULL OF PEOPLE AND TELEPHONES AND TYPEWRITERS, MUFFLED BY THE CLOSED DOOR. INSIDE, NICHOLAS IS TAPPING AT HIS OWN TYPEWRITER. THERE IS A KNOCK AT THE DOOR.
NICHOLAS: Come in.
EDWARDS ENTERS, NOT CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND HER.
EDWARDS: Only me, sir. Thought you might like a brew.
NICHOLAS: Oh, that's very good of you, Edwards. Thanks.
HE TAKES THE MUG SHE HANDS HIM.
EDWARDS: You're welcome. I've just got off the phone with the hospital. Mrs Buckley's spark out at the moment but they're keeping her in for observation and said she should be alright for questioning in the morning.
NICHOLAS: Righto. (PAUSE) Is there something else, Edward?
EDWARDS: Uh. Just that, um. Miss Sebastian's here to see you, sir.
NICHOLAS: Oh for pity's sake!
EDWARDS: Sorry, sir. Desk sergeant already sent her up. She's on her way in now.
NICHOLAS: No time to skip out down the fire escape, then.
EDWARDS: Shouldn't think so, sir.
NICHOLAS: I see. So this is a consolation cuppa.
EDWARDS: You do handle her better when you're caffeinated, sir.
NICHOLAS: I don't see why I should have to handle her at all. Why can't she go and pester someone else?
BASH APPEARS AT THE DOORWAY AND CLEARS HER THROAT.
BASH: Everyone else pretends to be out when I call.
EDWARDS: Oh. Afternoon, Miss Sebastian.
BASH: Good afternoon, Constable Edwards. Inspector.
NICHOLAS GRUNTS.
EDWARDS: Would you like a cup of tea, Miss Sebastian?
BASH: No, thank you.
EDWARDS: I'll just, uh. Leave yous to it, then.
SHE SHUTS THE DOOR BEHIND HER.
NICHOLAS: Take a seat.
BASH: Thank you.
SHE DOES SO.
NICHOLAS: How can I help?
BASH: Uh, you could start taking my work seriously.
NICHOLAS: Miss Sebastian-
BASH: I've told you, I prefer to be called Bash.
NICHOLAS: Well, unfortunately, that's not a real name, so.
BASH MAKES A DISGUSTED, FRUSTRATED NOISE.
BASH: Inspector, do you have any idea how disruptive it is for the spirits of a home to have people traipsing in and out without making a libation? Without so much as acknowledging-
NICHOLAS: Officers at a scene do not have time to stop at every-
BASH: Make time! You have time to take photographs, dust for fingerprints-
NICHOLAS: Because we don't waste time lighting candles and introducing ourselves to the resident ghosts.
BASH: They're not ghosts!
NICHOLAS: I know they're not ghosts! Police are there to secure the scene and gather evidence.
BASH: So am I! But how am I supposed to get anything from the spirits if your men have left them in such a state, they don't know whether they're coming or going?! It took me twenty minutes this morning to get through to a house in Camberwell because Inspector Garrick-
NICHOLAS: If you've got a problem with Inspector Garrick, you can take it up with him.
BASH: He won't see me! He thinks I'm annoying!
NICHOLAS: You don't say?! Did you work that out with your magical mind-reading powers?
BASH: I'm not allowed to read people's minds. Trust me, my life would be an awful lot easier if I was allowed to read people's minds.
NICHOLAS: Miss Sebastian...
BASH: (MOCKINGLY) Inspector Hawthorn. (NICHOLAS GROWLS) I am asking you to show these houses the barest modicum of respect! If I was visiting you at home and didn't make a libation, you'd be horrified.
NICHOLAS: I'll count my blessings, then, that it's only my office door you're darkening. There are a thousand other psychics in this city.
BASH: They're not as good as me.
NICHOLAS: Good! Maybe they'll charge less. (BASH MAKES AN OFFENDED NOISE) If you don't like working with the Met, stop taking Met contracts. Talk to the girls in Administration. They'll take your name out of the freelance pool and give you all the peace and quiet you could ask for.
BASH: Inspector-!
NICHOLAS: Have a nice day, Miss Sebastian. (BEAT.) That means you leave now.
BASH MAKES ANOTHER NOISE OF FRUSTRATION AND LEAVES, SLAMMING THE DOOR BEHIND HER. NICHOLAS SIGHS HAPPILY AT AN ARGUMENT WELL WON. HE GETS UP, GRABS HIS COAT AND OPENS THE DOOR TO TALK TO EDWARDS.
NICHOLAS: Edwards, I'm going for lunch. If you see Garrick...
EDWARDS: Yes, sir?
NICHOLAS: ...nothing. Never mind. See you in a bit.
EDWARDS: Might want to take the stairs, sir. Give Miss Sebastian a head-start.
NICHOLAS: (DAD MODE ACTIVATED) Oh. Do you know what that is, Edwards?
EDWARDS: (EMBARRASSED AND LOVING IT) Aw, sir, don't...!
NICHOLAS: That's DCI thinking.
EDWARDS: (LAUGHING) Sir!
NICHOLAS: I'm telling you! Keep that up, you'll be running CID in five years, tops. Commissioner in 10.
EDWARDS: Go and eat your lunch.
NICHOLAS: Hey - just remember us little people, yeah?
SCENE 6
ROBIN'S STUDY - AN OASIS OF WEALTH AND COMFORT IN THE HEART OF MAYFAIR. HIS STUDY IS LINED WITH BOOKS, WITH A GRANDFATHER CLOCK TICKING AND THE HUM OF INNER CITY TRAFFIC OUTSIDE.
ROBIN, AT THE END OF TOO LONG SPENT COOPED UP INTERVIEWING VALETS, IS FAST APPROACHING THE END OF HIS PATIENCE.
ROBIN: You don't think your inexperience stands against you?
PINKS: Oh no, sir. I think actually it's a good thing I'm not what you might call an old hand at the job. I've known many a man too set in his ways to take on something new, you see? But me, well, I don't have any ways to be set in, you see?
ROBIN: Mm. Can't fault your logic, I suppose. Thank you. That will be all. If the next gentleman is waiting, please send him in.
PINKS: I- Oh. Is that it? (BEAT) Th-thank you for your time.
PINKS LEAVES, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND HIM. ROBIN TUTS AND SIGHS. HE SCORES A LINE THROUGH PINKS' NAME ON HIS LIST OF CANDIDATES.
ROBIN: Disappointing...
SOMEONE KNOCKS AT THE DOOR.
ROBIN: Enter!
ROBIN RUSTLES THROUGH PAPERS AS THE DOOR OPENS, NOT LOOKING UP.
ROBIN: Mr... Foster, is it?
NICHOLAS: It is not.
ROBIN: (DELIGHTED) Collie! Are you applying for the job? No longer willing to spend time with me free of charge. I see. Very wise.
NICHOLAS: I thought you might be hungry. Brought you some sandwiches.
ROBIN: Oh, you are a life-saver. Sit, sit, sit. I've only the one fellow left - you can bring your steely policeman's eye to the process, help me see if he's a bad 'un.
NICHOLAS SITS, PUTTING DOWN HIS BAG OF SANDWICHES.
NICHOLAS: I really don't think I'm going to be of any use.
ROBIN: Nonsense. Moral support, if nothing else.
A KNOCK AT THE DOOR.
ROBIN: Enter!
WILLIAM FOSTER ENTERS.
ROBIN: Ah! The Foster foretold.
FOSTER: Pardon?
ROBIN: Nothing. Don't mind me. Please, take a seat.
FOSTER: Thank you. William Foster. How do you do?
NICHOLAS: How'd you do?
ROBIN: I'm Robin and this is my friend, Nicholas Hawthorn. Don't mind him. Let's get straight to it, shall we? Tell us about yourself.
FOSTER: Of course. I was born and raised in Northampton to a family of good standing. I've been a valet for eight years in total, first with Mr Bell - an academic gentleman, not unlike yourself.
ROBIN: You've done your research. Do you know much about my work?
FOSTER: I understand you're one of the finest demonologists in the country.
NICHOLAS: Oh, don't. You'll give him a swelled head.
ROBIN: Too late! You're bang on the money, Foster. Demonology's my speciality, though I've written on all manner of arcane subjects. Experience with academic work's certainly a plus. Who were you with after Mr Bell?
FOSTER: I joined the service of Colonel Mackey, whose reference I have included.
ROBIN: (BEAT) Colonel Mackey?
FOSTER: Yes, sir.
ROBIN: Just Robin, please. You said eight years in total...
FOSTER: Yes, they were not consecutive. I served in the War, of course. But I was with Mr Bell for four years before signing up and have been with Colonel Mackey since.
ROBIN: I see. A military man.
FOSTER: Yes, sir. First Fourth Northamptons, sir.
ROBIN: It's just Robin. Please. And why are you leaving Colonel Mackey's service?
FOSTER: The gentleman is moving out of the country, sir, and I do not-
ROBIN: Please, don't call me sir. You may call me Robin Sylvester, or Robin, or, if you really must, Sylvester. You're proud of your military service? And of your employer's?
FOSTER: Of course. I served my country, I did my duty. How else would I feel? And the Colonel was a perfect gentleman, as his military record proves.
ROBIN: I hardly think that's evidence-
NICHOLAS: I think that'll be all, Foster.
FOSTER: Excuse me?
ROBIN: If a military service-
NICHOLAS: Robin-
ROBIN: If a military service record is enough to prove a man a gentleman, I must wonder how you regard those men who didn't serve. Who failed to "do their duty".
PAUSE
FOSTER: (WITH DAWNING REALISATION) You're a conchie.
ROBIN: I'm a Quaker.
LONG PAUSE
FOSTER: I think your friend here is right. That will be all. Good day.
HE LEAVES ABRUPTLY. NICHOLAS SIGHS.
NICHOLAS: You could have handled that better.
ROBIN: I find conversations like that are rather like swimming in cold water. You're best off throwing yourself in and getting the unpleasant part out of the way.
NICHOLAS: You can't swim.
ROBIN: I'd rather a quick drowning than a slow suffocation! Oh, don't look at me like that. I can't bear it when you're disappointed in me, and that's twice in one day. I know I was rude, I just... (SIGHS)
NICHOLAS: You'll be a long while looking if you won't hire a man with a military record.
ROBIN: It's not the record I object to. It's the attitude. Black and white, goodies and baddies, the courageous and the craven.
NICHOLAS: A man's got a right to be proud, Robin.
ROBIN: There's pride and there's pride. How do you consider your service, in retrospect?
NICHOLAS: I generally try not to.
HE OPENS THE BAG OF SANDWICHES AND STARTS TAKING THEM OUT.
NICHOLAS: Chicken salad or cheese and pickle?
ROBIN: Chicken, please.
NICHOLAS PASSES HIM A SANDWICH STARTS TO EAT HIS OWN
NICHOLAS: You were right about Mrs Buckley, by the way. Found the remains of the summoning in her back bedroom.
ROBIN: Oh? Black candles and all? Six bob, please!
NICHOLAS: (MOUTH FULL) I thought Quakers weren't supposed to gamble.
ROBIN: I never claimed to be a good Quaker. Speaking of, I'm throwing modesty and simplicity to the wind tonight and having a knees up - do you fancy it?
NICHOLAS: No can do. Got an early start tomorrow.
ROBIN: You always have an early start. And a late finish. It's a wonder there are any baddies left in London, the way you work at it.
NICHOLAS: Mustn't be much good, then. Never seem to make a dent.
ROBIN: Boo. One of these days, Collie, I'm going to make you have fun if it kills you.
SCENE 7
IN A BASEMENT, SOMEWHERE IN LONDON. WATER DRIPS FROM OLD PIPES, THE SOUND ECHOING ON BARE, BLEAK BRICK.
PARKS, IN THE CENTRE OF THE ROOM, STRUGGLES AGAINST THE RESTRAINTS TYING HIM TO A CHAIR, TRYING TO GET FREE.
A DOOR OPENS, AND THE LIGHT SWITCHES ON. SLOW FOOTSTEPS COME DOWN THE RICKETY STAIRCASE AND CROSS THE COLD STONE FLOOR TO WHERE PARKS IS TRAPPED.
PARKS: Please... Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear.
THE NEWCOMER UNSCREWS A BOTTLE AND POURS THE CONTENTS INTO ANOTHER CONTAINER. AT THE SIGHT OF THIS, PARKS STARTS TO STRUGGLE AGAIN, TERRIFIED.
PARKS: No! No, please, no! Please, I'll do anything, please-
THE NEWCOMER SHUSHES HIM GENTLY. THEN, A DRIPPING SOUND - THE HISS OF BURNING FLESH - THE BUZZ OF MAGIC - AND PARKS SCREAMS.
CLOSING CREDITS
THEME MUSIC PLAYS
H.R. OWEN: The Lion and the Adder is a Monstrous Productions podcast.
Episode 1 starred, in order of appearance: Lou Sutcliffe as Clarence Parks; H.R. Owen as Robin Sylvester; Paul Warren as Nicholas Hawthorn; Sonia Himalaya as Mrs Buckley; David Ault as Cecil Roderick; AMC as Constable Edwards; Méabh de Brún as Evelyn 'Bash' Sebastian; Joshua Tay as Pinks; and Karim Kronfli as Foster; with additional voices from Ben Chandler, Rebecca Tanwen, Lou Sutcliffe, Rebekah McLoughlin and Gethin Hughes.
It was written by H.R. Owen, script edited and directed by Sophie B., and sound designed by Eira Major.
THEME MUSIC ENDS
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