ROY shrugs, says nothing.
EDDIE:
She likes feathers. Think she must have been a bird in an earlier life.
ROY:
What were you? A skunk?
EDDIE:
Ms. McGuire’s progressive, presentable. A damn sight better looking than Duckworth. Doesn’t know the file, but how much damage can she do? Her Deputy Minister, Pierre Guy, keeps a tight lid on the department. Help me, Roy. It’s always good to know what you’re up against when you’re going to government.
ROY:
Sounds like you know it all. Why are you asking me?
EDDIE:
Heard you knew her way back when. Thought you might have some tales to tell out of school. (he sees ROY preparing to leave) Hey, I gave you stuff on Harrier. Don’t get all haughty. We’re here to help each other out. I mean we’re not that different. I package it, you shovel it. (enjoying this) Or vice versa. Where are you going?
ROY:
You’re the only guy in town who can drive me out of a bar.
EDDIE:
I’d say you were a porcupine! (turns back to the bar) Another soda water, please.
1/10 GARDEN
NELL HARRIER’S garden. May. Early evening. NELL is trying to move a heavy planter filled with earth. ROY opens the gate, enters, sees NELL, clears his throat. NELL, startled, lets out a gasp.
ROY:
I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m from the Mirror. I just wanted to—
NELL:
Get out of my garden. No one comes into my garden!
ROY:
Can we meet somewhere else then?
NELL:
No!
ROY:
The Member from White Cloud says you’re putting human cells in gorillas ...
NELL:
Then you’ve got your headline. From an ignoramus who believes the world is flat. Just get out of here.
ROY:
I just need to confirm some facts.
NELL:
The media don’t care about facts.
ROY:
Maybe I do.
NELL:
And maybe you don’t.
ROY:
Please, if you could spare me just a moment. I’m a great admirer of your work.
NELL:
Really? What do you admire about it?
ROY:
(hesitates) Your papers on leaf mould.
NELL:
You read them?
ROY:
I did.
NELL:
And what did you think of them?
ROY:
They were ... thorough.
NELL:
Get out of here. You’re all the same! You’ll do anything, say anything to get a story. And when you get it, it bears no resemblance to the truth.
ROY:
Please, just a couple of—
NELL:
No! It’s been a three-ring circus since yesterday. I’ve got university and government bureaucrats crawling all over my lab. I have no comment other than what I’ve told them: my work falls squarely within the ridiculous snarl of contradictory and unhelpful regulations and edicts that comes down from on high. Now get out.
ROY:
Okay. Sorry I bothered you. (points to the planter) Can I move that for you before I go? That’s the least I can do after almost scaring you to death. I won’t talk.
NELL:
(hesitates, then nods) Put it over there into the light.
ROY starts moving the pot. NELL watches him.
ROY:
The name’s Ruggles, by the way. Roy Ruggles.
NELL:
You said you weren’t going to talk.
ROY:
I forgot.
After a moment, ROY speaks again.
ROY:
You got a nice spot here. It’s calm.
NELL:
It’s not at all calm. (she points to another pot to be moved) There are millions of things happening here every second. Thousands of miniscule creatures fighting, eating each other, running for their lives, giving birth, dying.
ROY:
I take that back.
NELL points to another pot. ROY studies it, begins to move it.
ROY:
I googled you last night. You grew up on the Isle of Man, took your training in Cardiff, Wales and London.
NELL:
I know where I grew up, thank you.
ROY:
Your husband was a biologist, too. Died ten years ago. You started in plant biology, moved to molecular cell biology, then into the study of congenital anomalies. My brother had one of those.
NELL:
What?
ROY:
