TITANIC: AFTERMATH
Chapter Five
INT. FRONT DOOR - SUNDAY AFTERNOON
Cal opens the door, and sees an English
woman, HARRIET BINGHAM (60), who stands with suitcase in hand. She's somewhat
disturbed by Cal's appearance, but remains polite.
MRS. BINGHAM
I am here to inquire about the position, sir.
Cal's suit appears crumpled, his
characteristic well manicured look already a thing of the past. His eyes are
unnaturally dark, like black inky pools.
CAL
Ah, yes. Please come in.
As Mrs. Bingham enters the house, she glances
at the broken window, then about the room. She wonders what sort of strange
situation she's happened upon.
INT. PARLOR - DAY
Cal and Mrs. Bingham sit on the only chairs
that are not covered with sheets. A nearby side table is piled with newspapers,
which are emblazoned with Titanic headlines. Mrs. Bingham hands Cal her
references. Cal sees her record is impressive.
MRS. BINGHAM
I have thirty-six years of experience in
service, sir.
Cal struggles to appear emotionally intact,
but appears stiff and awkward, like a cardboard character with words someone
else has put in his mouth. His past superficial charm has vanished.
CAL
Hmm. Very good. Are you a widow, Mrs.
Bingham?
MRS. BINGHAM
Yes, sir, but I was widowed years ago. Been
working for the Strausses ever since. Such kind people! Mrs. Strauss made sure
Miss Bird and I were on a lifeboat. Then, she went to be with Mr. Strauss.
"I will not leave my husband," she said. "We have been together
all these years and I'll not leave him now."
Mrs. Bingham recites her mistress' words with
reverence. Her businesslike stance fades, and she pulls a handkerchief from her
pocket to pat away her tears.
Cal struggles to maintain his self-control.
CAL (VO)
I thought of the fate of my own servants,
especially Lovejoy. He gave his life to serve me, yet I disregarded him,
thinking only of saving myself. I resolved to give these people their due this
time.
Mrs. Bingham sees he is affected emotionally
by her story, and perceives him as a sensitive and sympathetic man.
CAL
(voice breaking) I am sorry.
MRS. BINGHAM
Should I go about straightening up then, sir?
CAL
Fine plan, Mrs. Bingham.
The DOORBELL rings again. Mrs. Bingham rises
to answer the door.
INT. PARLOR - DAY
Mrs. Bingham returns to the parlor with
SHEILA O'CONNELL, ELEANOR SPIVEY (35), and a scruffy looking man, MAX BURGESS
(28), who hasn't got all the coal washed off him yet. Max removes his ratty old
cap with a flourish. He greets Cal with a good-natured smile and a thick
cockney accent.
MAX
Max Burgess, at your service, guv'nor!
The women look at Max quizzically.
MAX
I'm here for the position, sir.
Cal looks confused. He had envisioned hiring
widows, but he will hire anyone from the Titanic to appease his conscience. He
slowly nods to Max.
Sheila overflows with rosy femininity, in
marked contrast to Mrs. Spivey, who regards Cal with suspicion, and speaks with
a brusque American accent.
Mrs. Spivey is a socialist, and would be
miserable in service work, but is desperate to make a living. She is embittered
by the loss of her husband. Her pride is hurt, and she can't bring herself to
call Cal "sir".
MRS. SPIVEY
I am Eleanor Spivey. I'm here for the
position also.
SHEILA
Sheila O'Connell...oh, it's YOU, sir! Did you
find your wife...on the Carpathia?
CAL
(awkwardly) My fiancée. No, I did not.
SHEILA
I'm so sorry, sir. I shouldn't have asked.
CAL
Never mind. Please have a seat.
The interviewees comply. Mrs. Bingham swiftly
slides a newspaper under Max, as he sits on one of the fancy chairs. She then
proceeds to open the curtains and remove sheets from the furniture.
CAL
You are both widows, I imagine.
SHEILA
Yes, sir.
Mrs. Spivey gives a quick nod.
CAL
Could you tell me something about your work
experience?
SHEILA
Housewife, sir.
Sheila smiles, not too confident of her
resume.
Mrs. Spivey's work experience consists of
distributing socialist pamphlets with her husband. She searches for words.
MRS. SPIVEY
I have worked in printing, mostly. I can do
anything that may be required of me.
CAL
And what are your qualifications, Mr.
Burgess?
MAX
I mined coal for a good while, sir, but with
the strike on, I found work as a stoker on Titanic. Also been pursuing my
interest in automobiles, sir...fixing 'em for gentlemen like yourself.
Max nods to Cal and smiles.
Cal's not very impressed with this lot of
misfits, but plans to hire all who come by to appease his conscience.
CAL
But weren't you people to be rounded up and
sent back to England?
MAX
Yes, sir. Told 'em I was a passenger..."lost
me papers". Didn't much want to sail back to England, sir. America, the
land of opportunity and all that.
Max grins proudly.
Sheila and Mrs. Spivey eye Max incredulously.
They can't believe he's dumb enough to confess all this.
CAL
Oh, really? Em...that'll be all. Mrs.
Bingham, please show these people to their rooms upstairs.
Max and Sheila are jubilant over being taken
in. Mrs. Spivey gives Cal a quick nod.
MAX AND SHEILA
Thank you, sir!
INT. PARLOR - DAY
Mrs. Bingham, Sheila, Mrs. Spivey, ETHEL
FERGUSON, FAITH WELLS, and JOAN STOKES are deep in discussion. They're dressed
as maids, but their minds are far from their work.
MRS. SPIVEY
I say they should give up their millions if
they want to save the women and children! The real heroes died in the stoke
holds and in steerage...but you hear nothing about this in the papers. These
people are just consigned to the bottom like bilge!
SHEILA
Not much said about us immigrants, true.
Seems like they don't really want us here, except for Mr. Hockley. He's
different.
MRS. SPIVEY
I'll believe he's different when he casts his
vote for Eugene Debs!
MRS. BINGHAM
Debs! Why, he's a socialist rabble-rouser!
Cal walks in the front door. The women rush
to look busy.
CAL (VO)
Three more women came after that, all widowed
on April 15. I hired them all, for a total of six women and one man. It soon
became apparent they did not have enough to do.
Max enters and approaches Cal.
MAX
Your cars are all waxed up, sir. What would
you like me to do now?
CAL
Well, can't you putter around outside or
something, Mr...Mr...
MAX
Burgess, sir. I used to do right good bit of
gardening back in England...and your flower boxes are empty, sir.
CAL
Fine. Well, go to it then. Garden.
Cal hands Max money for gardening, and
proceeds on to his room.
MAX
Yes, sir.
Sheila whaps Max with her duster.
SHEILA
Don't go telling him you don't have enough to
do! He'll let half of us go! Are ya daft?
INT. CAL'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - AUGUST, 1912
Cal sits at his desk, thinking. His sense of
unrest mounts.
CAL (VO)
These people's presence helped me pass the
time, to some extent. There was always some trivial item requiring my
attention, or Mrs. Bingham was doting on me, bringing me something to eat. But
I always returned to my room to face the reality of my isolation, and the
terrible truth that no one else seemed to know.
Cal bolts up from his chair and hurries
toward his brandy and cigars.
Cal quickly pours a drink, but then stops
himself. He does not lift the glass to his mouth.
CAL (VO)
The brandy smelled wonderful. It beckoned. It
was just what I needed.
Cal eyes the brandy longingly, then gazes
straightforward.
CAL (VO)
But those 1500 people who met their deaths
that night didn't have their bellies full of brandy to help their pain along,
and their pain was something I couldn't even imagine.
He angrily pours the brandy back in its
bottle, and caps it with an air of finality.
INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
Mrs. Bingham hears Cal's voice ring down the
hall.
CAL
(urgently) Mrs. Bingham!
She trots quickly down the hall toward Cal's
doorway. Cal stands in his doorway with a tray of brandy and cigars.
CAL
I would like these removed from my room.
MRS. BINGHAM
What should I do with them, sir?
CAL
(impatiently) Oh, I don't know. Perhaps Max
could find some use for them.
Cal shuts the door sharply, still feeling
desperate for a drink.
INT. DIGUILIANI'S KITCHEN - NEW YORK - NIGHT
Rose eats dinner with the DiGuilianis. Mrs.
DiGuiliani serves her husband seconds. Their two youngest children, PAOLO (17)
and MIMI (16) are also at the table.
LIZZY (VO)
Rose was settled in with the DiGuilianis,
then. They couldn't understand why Rose didn't want anyone to know she was on
the Titanic, but they kept her confidence. Mrs. DiGuiliani was like a second
mother to her. She felt incredibly lucky, and she was. Just think of all the
things that could have happened to her!
Paolo's eyes keep wandering over toward Rose,
much to Mimi's amusement. Rose doesn't notice. She stares over at Amy's empty
chair, thinking about Jack.
LIZZY (VO)
She felt that Jack had somehow had a hand in
bringing her to these gracious people. She was always thinking of Jack then, as
if he were sitting at the table with her every night at dinner.
Rose absent-mindedly plays with her food.
LIZZY (VO)
She had only known him those few days, but he
continued to be a driving force in her life until the day she died.
Mrs. DiGuiliani sees Rose needs cheering up.
MRS. DIGUILIANI
(to Rose) Eat! Eat! You too skinny!
Rose smiles and takes a bite of ravioli.
MRS. DIGUILIANI
Rose has been so helpful in the shop! She is
a genuine artist.
Mr. DiGuiliani nods approvingly, his mouth
full of food. Rose musters a little laugh.
ROSE
You make everything so much fun, Mrs. D.
MRS. DIGUILIANI
We will have a fashion show. Rose is so
beautiful, she will be a perfect model. She will sell ALL the dresses!
PAOLO
Yeah, Rose is a regular Gibson girl!
MIMI
I want to be a model, too!
MRS. DIGUILIANI
(lovingly) Of course you will, dear.
Rose thinks of Ruth.
ROSE (VO)
Oh, mother! We could have had such fun
together, but you'd rather sell your daughter off as a slave than try something
new.
LIZZY (VO)
She thought of Ruth often, wishing things had
been different, wanting to know how she was. But her memories of Ruth forcing
her into marrying Cal always made her think the better of contacting her.
INT. KITCHEN - 1811 WALNUT STREET,
PHILADELPHIA - NIGHT
Max, Sheila, and Mrs. Spivey sit at the
kitchen table. Mrs. Spivey and Sheila glance over the day's newspaper. Max
rests his feet up on the chair next to him. He gulps Cal's brandy and awkwardly
smokes a cigar.
MAX
At two and twenty that evening! That Mr.
Ismay cut off our wages the very moment the ship went below water! Didn't even
get paid to row those ladies around all night. One of them's little dog wet on
me, too!
MRS. SPIVEY
I'm not surprised. These people would save
their dogs ahead of the plebeian rabble. May as well just go ahead and piss on
us.
SHEILA
Oh, really, you two! Now, what do you think
of this one, Max? They're saying the ship sank all in one piece!
MRS. SPIVEY
That's utter nonsense. It broke in half
before it sank.
MAX
I saw it go down in one piece myself, and if
Mr. Lightoller says so too, it must be true.
MRS. SPIVEY
Pshaw!
SHEILA
indicating the brandy) I think your memory's
a wee bit off tonight, Max.
MAX
Well, that's the root of my forgiving nature,
darling, a bad memory. Like those unkind words you said to me earlier--I've
forgot all about it. Now all I see when I look at you are pretty eyes.
Sheila eyes him with an intimidating glance,
but secretly revels in the attention. Her reproving scowl soon melts into a
smile.
MAX
Oh, I'm a bad one. Watch out!
Mrs. Spivey gapes at them with repulsion.
Mrs. Bingham strides efficiently into the room. She knocks Max's feet off the
chair as she marches past.
MRS. BINGHAM
Regular squire he thinks he is now!
MAX
Oh, give a man a rest, Mrs. Bingham! We men
folk got the worst lot all around! We're treated like its some sort of
disgrace, just being alive! Why, the ladies needed men like me to row for 'em!
Max is a little sloshed and is rattling on.
SHEILA
Well, I'm proud of you anyway, Max.
MAX
Thanks, love. Not to have any disrespect for
the men that died...just that dying isn't something that should be expected of
a man.
MRS. SPIVEY
Or living expected of a woman. They practically
threw me in that boat. The women should have insisted they be given no special
favor. We'll never get the vote if we don't show men we're their equals.
She makes her appeal to Sheila, planting her
fist solidly upon the table. Max makes a playful attack on the weaker sex.
MAX
Boats for women! Boats for women!
Mrs. Spivey rises from her chair, ready to
attack. Mrs. Bingham stomps back to the table and interposes herself between
them.
MRS. BINGHAM
Oh, won't you cut out all this chatter and
attend to your duties? Master Hockley is going out tonight and you've done
nothing in preparation! (waving her hands) Well, get on!
All reluctantly get back to work.
INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT
Cal shaves, using an old-style razor. He is
not being very careful or gentle about it.
CAL (VO)
I preferred to spend my evenings alone,
wallowing in my misery, for at least then I was living the truth. Yet, at
times, my attempts at evading my social duties proved unsuccessful. There was,
as always, the perpetual burden of keeping up appearances.
Cal meets his reflection in the mirror with
repugnance. He loathes the sight of his own miserable neck.
CAL (VO)
I used to think that Caledon Hockley was the
most wonderful thing in the world to be. Now I could scarcely stand the sight
of myself.
He nicks himself badly on his neck. Blood
drips down onto his hands and into the basin below, tingeing the water red.
Cal's reflection in the bowl is replaced by the faint image of Bjorn Gundersen.
Bjorn's face wrenches in agony, as when he was struck with the oar. His image
fades back to Cal's own face, which has also become contorted with angst.
Cal's hands shake uncontrollably over the
bloody bowl. His disturbed thoughts are cut off with a KNOCK at the door.
MRS. BINGHAM
Your suit is all pressed now, sir.
Startled, Cal lets out a gasp.
INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
Mrs. Bingham and Sheila stand outside the
door, concerned. Sheila holds Cal's suit, Mrs. Bingham a plate of half-eaten
food.
CAL
(impatiently, nervously) Yes, yes. Put it on
the chair, if you please.
Sheila places the suit on a chair in the
hallway.
MRS. BINGHAM
Are you all right, sir?
CAL
Oh, yes. I just nicked myself with the razor.
That is all.
MRS. BINGHAM
Well, you ought to have one of those new
safety razors, sir. I'll pick one up for you tomorrow.
Mrs. Bingham whispers to Sheila as they walk
away.
MRS. BINGHAM
So many things in this house are just old
junk! I wish Mr. Hockley would buy something new for himself every now and
then.
She looks at the plate of half-eaten food,
and shakes her head.