A mother's love

EXT.SUBURBAN STREET/DAY.

HILLARY IS WALKING ALONG THE STREET, HUDDLED AGAINST THE WIND AND GRIPPING A PLASTIC CARRIER BAG.

SHE IS IN HER LATE FIFTIES AND WEARING A FUR LINED COAT.

THE CAMERA FOLLOWS HILLARY AS SHE WALKS PAST A ROW OF HOUSES.

NARRATOR: (V.O.)
This is Hillary Jenkins. Part time waitress, volunteer worker and member of the neighbourhood watch. Hillary is like so many of the women who live in this quiet suburban street. She’s fond of coffee mornings, loves Paul O’Grady and occasionally takes a glass of wine with her evening meal.

HILLARY STOPS AT THE DOOR OF HER HOUSE AND DIGS OUT HER KEYS.

NARRATOR: (V.O.)
The one thing that separates Hillary from her neighbours, is the fact that Hillary…

HILLARY UNLOCKS AND OPENS THE DOOR.

NARRATOR: (V.O.)
… is the mother of a serial killer.

HILLARY ENTERS THE HOUSE AND CLOSES THE DOOR BEHIND HER.

CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM.

THERE IS THE NAKED DEAD BODY OF A MAN LYING FACE DOWN ON THE FLOOR.

HILLARY ENTERS AND IMMEDIATELY NOTICES THE BODY.

SHE LETS OUT A HEAVY SIGH AND LOOKS TO THE CEILING.

HILLARY: (SHOUTING)
Julian!

JULIAN: (O.O.V)
What!

HILLARY:
Are you finished with this body?

JULIAN: (O.O.V)
Yes!

HILLARY:
Well would you mind moving it! Mrs Jackson’s coming round for a coffee.

JULAIN CAN BE HEARD RUSHING DOWNSTAIRS. HILLARY STEPS OVER THE BODY, PUTS THE CARRIER BAG DOWN AND BEGINS TAKING OFF HER COAT.

JULIAN ENTERS OUT OF BREATH AND EAGER.

JULIAN:
Is she coming on her own?

HILLARY:
Don’t even think about it!

JULIAN’S FACE DROPS AND HE SULKILY TURNS TO LEAVE.

HILLARY:
The corpse!

JULIAN MUTTERS UNDER HIS BREATH, GRABS ONE OF THE BODIES LEGS AND STARTS TRYING TO DRAG IT FROM THE ROOM, WITH LITTLE SUCCESS.

HILLARY ROLLS HER EYES AND SITS DOWN IN THE ARM CHAIR.

INTERVIEWER: (O.O.V)
Does that happen often?

HILLARY: (TO CAMERA)
What – the dead bodies? Yeah, sometimes. You see, his problem is that he starts something but never sees it through.

JULIAN:
That’s not true!

HILLARY:
(TO JULIAN) What about the hacksaw murders eh? Severed limbs everywhere! And who ends up having to clean up the mess and post the fingers to the relatives? Me – that’s who!

JULIAN:
I had to go to Job club!

HILLARY:
Job club shmob club – your just bone idle, that’s what you are!

MUTTERING UNDER HIS BREATH, JULIAN TRIES PULLING THE BODY BY THE ARM.

INTERVIEWER: (O.O.V)
Doesn’t it bother you?

HILLARY: (TO CAMERA)
What?

INTERVIEWER: (O.O.V)
That your son’s a serial killer?

HILLARY:
Not really. It keeps him out of trouble and away from the drugs. I mean, there are a lot worse hobby’s he could have chosen.

INTERVIEWER: (O.O.V)
Such as?

HILLARY THINKS FOR A MOMENT.

HILLARY:
Poetry? (PAUSE) Besides, at least I know where he is. Mrs Kingsley next door hasn’t seen her son since Friday!

JULIAN:
He’s in the bath.

HILLARY: (TO JULIAN)
Our bath?

JULIAN:
Yeah… and the sink, and the washing basket...

JULIAN LETS GO OF THE BODY, AND BEGINS FEELING AROUND UNDER THE SOFA.

JULIAN: (CONTINUED)
…and there might still be a little bit of him in my bedroom drawer, but I can’t be sure.

HILLARY: (TO CAMERA)
See, even I know where her son is now… so who’s the better mother?

JULIAN PULLS OUT A CHAINSAW AND SMILES LOVINGLY.

JULIAN:
You are mum.

HILLARY: (TO CAMERA)
Ah, isn’t he a treasure.

JULIAN STARTS UP THE CHAINSAW AND RAISES IT ABOVE THE BODY.

HILLARY: (SHOUTING)
Would you like a cup of tea?

FADE OUT.

END.