‘Then, after a while, I’d like you to start interviewing people. Could you make eye contact with someone through a camera, do you think?’
I feel a blinding shaft of terror, which I tell myself to ignore, as my brain will often try to send me messages that are untrue and I do not have to listen to them. This is lesson one at St John’s: Your brain is an idiot.
‘I don’t know.’ I swallow, feeling my fists clench up. ‘Maybe.’
‘Great.’ Dr Sarah gives me her angelic smile. ‘I know this feels hard and scary, Audrey. But I think it will be a great project for you.’
‘OK, look, I don’t understand . . .’ I pause, gaining control of myself; trying not to let tears of fright well up. I don’t even know what I’m frightened of. A camera? A new idea? A demand on me which I wasn’t expecting?
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘What do I film?’
‘Anything. Anything you come across. Just point the camera and shoot. Your house. The people in your house. Paint a portrait of your family.’
‘Right.’ I can’t help snorting. ‘I’ll call it My Serene and Loving Family.’
‘If you like.’ She laughs. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing it.’
MY SERENE AND LOVING FAMILY – FILM TRANSCRIPT
INTERIOR. 5 ROSEWOOD CLOSE. DAY
The camera pans around a cluttered family kitchen.
AUDREY (VOICE-OVER)
So, welcome to my documentary. This is the kitchen. This is the kitchen table. Frank hasn’t cleared away his breakfast, he’s revolting.
ANGLE ON: a scrubbed pine table bearing a used cereal bowl, a plate covered in crumbs, and a pot of Nutella with a spoon sticking out.
AUDREY (VOICE-OVER)
These are the kitchen cupboards.
ANGLE ON: a range of Shaker kitchen cupboards painted grey. The camera pans slowly across.
AUDREY (V.O.)
This is stupid. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be filming. This is the window.
ANGLE ON: a window to the garden, where we can see an old swing set and a brand new fire pit, still with tags on. Camera zooms in on the fire pit.
AUDREY (V.O.)
That was my dad’s birthday present. He should use it really.
Camera swings shakily to door.
AUDREY (V.O.)
OK, so I should introduce myself. I’m Audrey Turner and I’m filming this because . . .
(pause)
Anyway. My mum and dad bought me this camera. They were all, like, ‘Maybe you’ll become a documentary maker!’ I mean, they got super-excited and they spent far too much on this camera. I was, like, just get me the cheapest thing, but they wanted to, so . . .
The camera moves jerkily through to the hall and focuses on the stairs.
AUDREY (V.O.)
That’s the stairs. You can see that, right? You’re not a moron.
(pause)
I don’t even know who you are. Who’s watching this? Dr Sarah, I suppose. Hi, Dr Sarah.
The camera moves unsteadily up the stairs.
AUDREY (V.O.)
So we’re going upstairs now. Who lives in THIS house?
Camera focuses on a black lacy bra draped over the banisters.
AUDREY (V.O.)
That’s Mum’s.
(beat)
Actually, she may not want you to see that.
Camera turns a corner and focuses on an ajar door.
AUDREY (V.O.)
That’s Frank’s room but I can’t even go near it because of the stench. I’ll zoom in.
Camera zooms in on an area of floor space covered with trainers, dirty socks, a wet towel, three Scott Pilgrim books, a half-empty bag of Haribo, all thrown on top of each other.
AUDREY (V.O.)
The entire room’s like that. Just so you know.
Camera moves away along an upstairs landing.
AUDREY (V.O.)
And this is my mum and dad’s room . . .
Camera focuses on a half-open door. From inside the room we hear a voice. This is MUM, Audrey’s mum. She is talking in a low, urgent voice which, nevertheless, we can hear.
MUM (V.O)
I was talking about it at book group and Caroline said, ‘Does he have a girlfriend?’ Well, he doesn’t! Is THAT the problem? If he had a girlfriend, maybe he’d be out more, instead of hunched over that screen. I mean, why DOESN’T he have a girlfriend?
DAD (V.O.)
I don’t know. Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault!
AUDREY (V.O.)
(sotto voce)
This is my mum and dad. I think they’re talking about Frank.
MUM (V.O.)
Well, I’ve had an idea. We need to throw a party for him. Set him up with some pretty girls.
DAD (V.O.)
A PARTY? Are you serious?
MUM (V.O.)
Why not? It would be fun. We used to throw him some lovely parties.
DAD (V.O.)
When he was EIGHT. Anne, do you know what teenage parties are like? What if they knife each other and have sex on the trampoline?
MUM (V.O.)
They won’t! Will they? Oh God . . .
The door closes slightly. The camera moves closer to pick up the sound.
MUM (V.O.)
Chris, have you given Frank a father-to-son talk?
DAD (V.O.)
No. Have you given him a mother-to-son talk?
MUM (V.O.)
I bought him a book. It had pictures of . . . you know.
DAD (V.O.)
(sounds interested)
Did it? What kind of pictures?
MUM (V.O.)
You know.
DAD (V.O.)
I don’t.
MUM (V.O.)
(impatiently)
Yes you do. You can imagine.
DAD (V.O.)
I don’t want to imagine. I want you to describe them to me, very slowly, in a French accent.
MUM (V.O.)
(half giggling, half cross)
Chris, stop it!
DAD (V.O.)
Why should Frank have all the fun?
The door opens and DAD comes out. He is a handsome man in his early forties, wearing a suit and holding a scuba-diving mask. He jumps as he sees the camera.
DAD
Audrey! What are you doing here?
AUDREY (V.O.)
I’m filming. You know, for my project.
DAD
Right. Right, of course.
(calls warningly)
Sweetheart, Audrey’s filming . . .
Mum appears at the door, dressed in a skirt and bra. She claps her hands over her top half and shrieks when she sees the camera.
DAD
That’s what I meant when I said, ‘Audrey’s filming.’
MUM
(flustered)
Oh, I see.
She grabs a dressing gown from the door hook and wraps it around her top half.
MUM
Well, bravo, darling. Here’s to a great film. Maybe warn us next time you’re filming?
(glances at Dad and clears her throat)
We were just discussing the . . . er . . . crisis in . . . the Middle East.
DAD
(nods)
The Middle East.
Both parents look uncertainly at the camera.
OK, so, the backstory. You’ll want to know that, I suppose. Previously, in Audrey Turner’s life . . .
Except, Jeez. I can’t go into it all again. Sorry, I just can’t. I’ve sat in enough rooms with teachers, doctors, regurgitating the same story, using the same words, till it starts to feel like something that happened to someone else.
Everyone involved has started to feel unreal. All the girls at Stokeland Girls’ School; Miss Amerson, our head teacher, who said I was deluded and seeking attention. (Attention. Irony God, are you listening?)
No one ever quite found out why. I mean, we sort of found out why, but not why.
There was a big scandal, yadda yadda. Three girls were excluded, which is a record. My parents took me out of Stokeland instantly, and I’ve been at home ever since. Well, and hospital, which I told you about already. The idea is that I ‘start again’ at the Heath Academy. Only to ‘start again’ you need to be able to ‘get out of the house’, which is where I have a teeny problem.
It’s not the outside per se. It’s not trees or air or sky. It’s the people. I mean, not all people. Probably not you; you’d be fine. I have my comfort people – people I can talk to and laugh with and feel relaxed with. It’s just, they make up quite a small group. Tiny, you might call it, compared to, say, the world’s population. Or even the number of people on an average bus.