MYFANWY AND OTHER ANIMALS
A 30 MINUTE SCREENPLAY
By Richard Grainger
A 30 MINUTE SCREENPLAY
By Richard Grainger
1. INT THE FUHRER’S PRIVATE OFFICE SUITE, BERLIN - DAY
CLOSE-UP – HITLER’s face, studying and shuffling papers on desk. Gunther Fuchs stands rigidly in front of desk, dressed in the black uniform of the Leibstandarte, Hitler's personal bodyguard. Fuchs is aged 24, he is 5’11” tall and slim; he has an aristocratic, German face and cool, clipped diction. Fuchs is a Nazi fundamentalist, driven by Hitler’s dogma, whose only agenda is the Third Reich.
BANNER: “BERLIN, APRIL 1945”
HITLER
The Reich is already much indebted to your diligence, Oberstgruppenführer Fuchs.
(PAUSE) (he studies papers on desk)
HITLER (CONTINUED)
Your record is exemplary: Germany’s most decorated field operative.
FUCHS performs Nazi salute.
FUCHS
(in German)
Vielen Dank, mein Führer. Heil Hitler!
Hitler raises hand in dismissive salute and returns his attention to the papers on his desk. It is a dossier on Fuchs.
HITLER
You are not married, Oberstgruppenführer?
FUCHS
Nein, mein Führer.
HITLER
No… sweetheart?
FUCHS
Nein
FUCHS
Nein! I am wedded to the Reich! Heil Hitler!
HITLER
(Raises again hand in dismissive salute)
Enough of this! Yes, Oberstgruppenführer, you are the perfect man for the job. You see, I have one further assignment for you, Fuchs; a task so imperative that it will change the course of the war…a war, that contrary to the doubters, is still there to be won. This mission is so vital that I can only entrust its outcome to you.
FUCHS
(in German)
Thank you, mein Fuhrer. Thank you. I am honoured.
Hitler again raises hand in dismissive salute, then angrily picks up a child’s toy sheep from his desk, crushes it and throws it into the bin. Sheep makes mechanical bleating noise as it lands.
HITLER
You know what that is, Fuchs?
FUCHS
Erm…a toy sheep, mein Führer?
HITLER
“A toy sheep”, yes a fucking toy sheep, Fuchs; and you know why it’s symbolic? Huh, do you know what’s so very fucking symbolic about it?
FUCHS
Err…wool? mein Führer
HITLER
Yes, Oberstgruppenführer, wool! (Slams desk with fist – PAUSE) And that is why I need my top field operative to stop the fucking Axis of Evil that call themselves (makes speech marks with fingers of both hands) “The Allies” from pulling the fucking wool over our eyes!
(Pause)
Hitler shuffles a large pile of papers, and then throws them on the floor angrily.
HITLER (CONTINUED)
You have heard of THE ENIGMA machine perhaps?
FUCHS
Yes, mein Fuhrer, I have heard of it. The Allies…the Axis of Evil captured…
HITLER
…stole it.
FUCHS
…correction, stole one from a U Boat.
HITLER
And now they pull the fucking wool over our eyes, Fuchs – our eyes! Decrypting our messages and sending us false ones. And we follow them like sheep (slams desk with fist again) – like sheep, Fuchs!
(Pause)
HITLER (CONTINUED)
Go to Bletchley Park, Oberstgruppenführer, find the machine, re-capture it or destroy it. And take this letter; this is my personal authority that all subjects and officers of the Reich must assist you in your mission or be held accountable to me. On pain of death!
FUCHS
Yes, mein Fuhrer; at once.
Fuchs clicks heels, salutes again, turns and leaves room.
2. EXT IN JUNKERS FLYING TO ENGLAND TO DROP FUCHS – NIGHT (same day)
Flying over German occupied Western Europe, there are two pilots in the cockpit with Fuchs, dressed as an English working man in civilian clothes, behind them on a jump seat. The pilots are relaxed, chatting to each other and ignoring Fuchs – he is a member of the SS which they despise and distrust. The plane drones on towards England in a north-westerly direction. Both pilots converse with loud slow speech in order to be heard above the noise of the engines.
PILOT #1 (laughing)
Hey Fritz! Did you hear about Steiner?
PILOT #2
Yah, he was shot down over England and taken prisoner. Poor bastard!
PILOT #1
Yah, but it’s worse than that. Did you hear about his legs?
Pilot #2 looks at him and shakes his head.
PILOT #1
He had to have them amputated…you know, like Douglas Bader. But he asked if he could have them sent home so his family could have them as a keepsake.
PILOT #2
Never!
PILOT #1
Yah! So the RAF dropped his legs over Dortmund – they even took a detour on the way back from bombing Bremen to deliver them.
PILOT #2
I don’t believe it!
PILOT #1
No, it’s true Fritz! I promise! But it gets better…
PILOT #2
…What his legs? (laughs) I think you’re pulling mine!
Fuchs gets to his feet and stands between the 2 pilots’ seats.
FUCHS
Why don’t you two clowns just shut up and concentrate on flying the plane? And keep your eyes peeled for fighters.
PILOT #2
Why don’t you just fuck off and practice kissing Hitler’s ass, Fuchs. You look out for fighters if you want to. For us, the war is lost.
FUCHS
I could have you shot for that, insubordinate pig!
Fuchs returns to his seat, sulkily.
PILOT #2
So what gets better?
PILOT #1
Well, the next thing is, he has to have an arm amputated.
PILOT #2
No! Poor bastard!
PILOT #1
I know, I know. They cut off his arm, and he asks if they could send it back to Germany too! So they drop it off on the way back when they bomb Hamburg.
PILOT #2 (laughs)
Oh well, he’s still got one arm. Not totally ‘armless then?
PILOT #1
Nein Fritz! He had to have the other arm amputated as well! But when he asked the RAF to send that home, they said: “No – awfully sorry old chap, but we think you’re trying to escape!”
Both pilots laugh loudly and Fuchs puts his head between his hands and groans. They cross the English coast line and the weather worsens. They fly on through thick and turbulent clouds. Heavy flak explodes around them from guns around London as plane is caught in spotlights.
FUCHS
Can’t you fly any higher – get us out of this?
PILOT #1
(Slowly and sarcastically)
Nein, Herr Oberstgruppenführer, the flak is worse higher up.
They fly on in silence, except for flak exploding around the plane and flashes of lightning. The plane labours on, unsteadily. A burst of flak hits the rear of the fuselage and rocks the plane.
PILOT #2
Shit! We’ve been hit! I’ve lost rudder control!
Pilot #1 looks at the port engine and sees flames and smoke pouring from it. He shakes his head.
PILOT #1
No1’s on fire. Feather number one! We must head west for the coast. We can fly by wire.
PILOT #2
I’m number 2, you’re number 1; Go feather yourself! What the fuck do you mean by feather anyway?
PILOT #1
Don’t argue Fritz, just turn the fucking thing…
FUCHS
…Nein! We must make it to Bletchley Park! It is imperative! I have orders from the Fuhrer. Look, I have a letter from him. (pulling letter from his pocket) If you disobey you will be shot!
PILOT #1
You can fuck the Fuhrer and his fucking orders! You try flying this crate! We cannot steer, we cannot climb. We’re going down, Fuchs, down, you moron!
Plane limps on, unsteadily, heading west, an uneasy silence in the cockpit.
PILOT #2
Enough! We must put down, we’re losing fuel!
Fuel gauge is shown, rotating towards empty. Pilot #2 attempts to lower under carriage. Nothing happens.
PILOT #2
Schnell! Hydraulics are out too, we will have to crash land; we’re too low to bail out!
FUCHS
Where are we?
PILOT #1 (Shouting)
How the fuck should I know? West England…maybe Wales. You’re the spy: read a fucking map!
PILOT #2
Look! There’s a field up ahead, it’s nearly level. We’ll put down there! (Pause as he wrestles with the stick) Okay, Brace…Brace!
Plane lands heavily, the starboard wing catches a tree and causes the plane to cartwheel, eventually landing right side up on its belly. It slides along the length of the field, with the rear of the fuselage detached, before coming to rest by a stone wall. There is silence, and then an explosion as the fuel tanks ignites. Fuchs walks, more or less unscathed, although having taken a heavy bang to his head, through the hole at the back where the tail had been. In the cockpit, both pilots are slumped forward, dead.
FUCHS (to himself)
Well, they say a good landing’s any one you can walk away from.
DISSOLVE TO:
3. EXT. RUGGED WELSH COUNTRYSIDE – NIGHT.
The sky has cleared and by moonlight, Fuchs can be seen walking wearily over the hills, holding his head, until he reaches a small stone shepherd’s bothy where he beds down in the corner and falls asleep.
4. EXT. BOTHY – DAY.
Glorious morning, birds singing, Fuchs awakes and shakes his head. He has lost his memory and has no recall of the crash, or of where or why he is. He puts his hand into his pocket pulls out Hitler’s letter. He reads it aloud:
FUCHS
By the power of the Reich…I, Adolf Hitler…do hereby endow the bearer of this letter… Oberstgruppenführer Gunther Fuchs…Huh?...absolute authority in pursuit of the mission which I have bestowed upon him…The Oberstgruppenführer – hmm…that must be me - is to be assisted by whatever means are necessary to prevent the Axis of Evil from further pulling the wool over our eyes…hmmm…wool? I don’t understand…What the hell does this have to do with wool?
Fuchs folds letter and puts it away, a puzzled look on his face. He hears a plaintive bleating and an odd grunting noise coming from the corner of the field outside the bothy. He crawls out to observe a man sexually abusing a sheep, the animal’s rear legs buried deep in his wellies. (The scene is suggestive, rather than explicit).
FUCHS
Gott in Himmel!
Fuchs crawls back into the bothy, holding his head, lies down and falls back to sleep.
5. EXT. BOTHY – DAY. MINUTES LATER
Fuchs wakes again to find the man who had been abusing the sheep standing over him, buttoning up his fly. It is Jones the Retard (Jones TR). He is aged 48 but looks older, 6’2” tall, thin, stooped, dressed in peasant farm worker clothes with twine tied round his coat. Missing teeth and semi-literate, unwashed and unsavoury but with a twinkle in his eye.
JONES TR
Who the hell are you…and what are you doing in my bothy?
FUCHS
(To himself, softly)
Hmmm, a Britisher…I must address him in my best English…
(To Jones TR – loudly)
I…err…I was um…think I got a bit lost, old boy. Just bedded down for the night…toodle pip, eh what?
JONES TR
Toodle pip? You’re not from around here are you boyo?
FUCHS
No, old boyo; no, I’m not. I’m from...do’y you know, I’m not sure…seem to have lost my memory. Bally nuisance, what?
JONES TR
Well, we’d better get you to the village…get you cleaned up, like. Mrs Jones, the Boarding House will look after you.
Jones TR helps Fuchs to his feet and the couple walk down towards the village. Sound of sheep bleating as Fuchs looks back at them over his shoulder.
6. INT. MRS JONES’S BOARDING HOUSE, KITCHEN – DAY.
Mrs Jones is washing up, talking to Myfanwy, her daughter, who is kneading dough at the kitchen table. She is aged 42, with peroxide dyed hair. She makes an effort to look presentable in the off chance that she may attract another husband. She is a large woman dressed in domestic clothing and a perpetual pinnie. She is jolly, forthright, lustful and honest.
Myfanwy is aged: 22, 5’7” tall, with strawberry blond shoulder length hair which ends in ringlets with a voluptuous figure. She has a happy, smiling face and would be described as ‘comely’ rather than beautiful. She is a desirable country wench with a sense of adventure and spirit. Slightly flirtatious and likes to lay down a challenge. She is strong-willed and knows exactly how to turn on her sexuality to best effect. She is an accomplished rider and hunts.
MRS JONES (to Myfanwy)
…And d’you know I was only saying to your uncle Jones the other day…
The door opens and Jones the Retard and Fuchs enter. Both women turn to look at them.
JONES TR
Found this ‘un up on Glyder Fach sleeping in my bothy. Says he’s lost his memory.
MRS JONES (hands on hips, stares at Fuchs lustfully)
Well I never, so you don’t know who you are then, my love?
Fuchs shakes his head. He stares at Fyfanwy.
MRS JONES
Never mind my sweet. I’ll put the kettle on and make a nice cup of tea; we’ve no sugar, mind. Now, if you can afford three and six a week, we’ve a lovely room you can have ‘til you know who you are.
Mrs Jones turns towards Myfanwy who has been staring at Fuchs since he arrived, mechanically drying a glass.
FUCHS
(Gropes in his pockets and produces some English money)
I say that’s most awfully good of you; here’s ten bob. That should do for a couple of weeks, old thing!
MRS JONES (Blushing and laughing)
“Old thing?” Oh we are posh aren’t we? (Pocketing the ten shillings in her pinnie) I don’t suppose you know what you’re called? (Fuchs shakes his head).
MRS JONES (CONTINUED)
Well, we’ll just have to call you Jones then, just ‘til your memory comes back, mind! (Turning to Myfanwy who is still staring lustfully at Fuchs)
MRS JONES (CONTINUED)
Myfanwy, that glass is dry, my girl! Take Mr Jones upstairs and settle him in.
(PAUSE)
Mr Jones, this is Myfnawy, my daughter; she’s the only pretty girl in the village. Don’t get any ideas, mind, ‘cos she’s engaged to Jones the Mechanic from across the valley...and you can stop leering as well, Jones the Retard…mind you, it’s about time you set your sights on something that can stand on its own hind legs!
Fuchs and Myfanwy go upstairs and enter bedroom. It is a spacious double aspect room with views to the front (up the hill toward the bothy) and side (over the valley).
MYFANWY
What’s it like to lose your mind, then?
FUCHS
Don’t think I’ve lost my mind…think it’s just my memory, really. This is nice.
He looks out of the side window at the view over valley. Myfanwy stands behind him, almost places her hands on his shoulders then turns away and potters with ornaments on dresser.
MYFANWY
Hey I know! You could get a job with my uncle, Jones the Farmer, just ‘til your mind comes back, like. He could use some help with the hay.
Fuchs turns to face Myfanwy.
FUCHS
I say, that would be jolly spiffing, well, just ‘til I can find out who I am and why I’m here.
(PAUSE)
They look at other meaningfully.
FUCHS
You’re a jolly spunky young woman you know…Jones the Mechanic is a terribly lucky chap…
MRS JONES (O.S.)
Myfanwy! Come down here this instant and let poor Mr Jones get some rest!
Myfanwy holds Fuchs’ gaze for an instant, turns and leaves room. Fuchs lies down on bed, pulls Hitler’s letter from his pocket, reads it again and falls asleep, dropping the letter to the floor.
7. INT. MRS JONES’ BOARDING HOUSE, FUCH’S BEDROOM – DAY. LATER.
Mrs Jones taps lightly on door of Fuchs’ bedroom door. There’s no reply so she enters quietly. Fuchs is asleep on his back, snoring. She takes his shoes off and places a blanket over him. She turns to leave the room when she notices the dropped letter on the floor. She picks it up and examines it. She cannot read German but recognises the letterhead: the logo of the Third Reich and Hitler’s signature at the bottom.
MRS JONES (softly and slowly)
Oh…my…good…God…
She tucks the letter into her pinnie and tip-toes from the room, backwards, closing the door quietly.
8. INT. VILAGE PUB: PUBLIC BAR OF THE LAMB AND LOVER – NIGHT. SAME DAY
The dimly lit bar is filled with locals, men well beyond the age for military conscription, except for Jones the Retard, and Jones the Butcher’s Son (Jones TBS). Mrs Jones is the only woman present. Smoke, mainly from pipes, fills the room and a meeting is in progress. Jones the Farmer, clearly in charge, holds Hitler’s letter. Jones the Farmer (Jones TF) is aged: 51, 5’6” and fat, balding beneath a permanently worn flat cap. Ruddy faced from drinking and high blood pressure. He is the unwritten tribal leader of the ‘elders’ of the village; those who the war left behind who were either too old or too infirm to fight. He sees himself as ‘Lord of the Manor’; he is the only one capable of making decisions. However he has a sound sense of morality and fairness. He could be described as a little like a Welsh ‘Captain Mainwaring’. He is not ‘into’ sheep.
JONES THE FARMER
…Well, I never claimed to speak German but you don’t have to be Winston ruddy Churchill to work out he’s a Kraut!
MRS JONES
I think we’re jumping to conclusions…
JONES THE FARMER
I don’t know what else you can possibly conclude. Let’s review the facts shall we? He’s found in the Retard’s bothy…doesn’t know who he is or why he’s here…speaks like a German who’s leaned English from Lord ruddy Haw Haw and has, in his possession, a signed letter, saying Christ knows what from Adolf Hitler. It’s obvious, I should say, that he’s been sent to spy upon us.
MRS JONES
I can’t think for one moment why Hitler should be in the least bit interested in what goes on in Llantwyrd Wells. Lord knows, he’s got enough on his plate, what with chasin’ those lovely young Italians about the place!
Fuchs’ letter is being passed round the meeting. It has reached Jones the Retard.
JONES THE FARMER
Now there’s no point giving it to him. He can’t read English, let alone German.
(PAUSE).
Here, Jones the Butcher, you speak a bit of German don’t you?
The letter’s passed to Jones the Butcher (Jones TB).
JONES THE BUTCHER
Well not that I’d want to own up to…but I did pick a few words up in the trenches, mind. Let me see… (pause as he reads) …Wolle…now, let me see…that’s wool I think…
JONES THE PUBLICAN (leaning on bar- sarcastically)
Never!
JONES THE FARMER
Christ! I don’t like the sound of this. If Adolf’s sent him here to our valley there must be something more to it than wool. (Thinks)…unless…unless it could just be he’s heard about what the sheep gets up to around here.
Jones the Doctor (Jones TD) sitting at a table at the back, taps his pipe up and clears his throat, attracting attention. He is aged 64, 6’2” tall and slightly stooped with grey hair and a drooping moustache; wearing tweed, he very much resembles the country doctor, which of course he is.
JONES TD
You mean what most of you lot up to with sheep? You know what I think about this behaviour? – It’s an unholy alliance and most unnatural! I’ve had to treat three cases of Blowfly Strike this month already! Blowfly Strike – on humans? And, God knows how many scraped shin bones. Heaven knows why you can’t come up with something better than wellies to keep their legs apart.
(PAUSE)
And another thing…I refuse to treat another of those bloody things for vaginal prolapse – I’m not a ruddy vet you know!
JONES THE FARMER
All right, Jonesy, all right, we know what you feel about it.
JONES TD
Yes well I should think it’s only what any right minded person in the outside world would think about it too; and I’m even includin’ the bloody Germans in that!
JONES THE FARMER
Yes, well leavin’ that aside for one moment…what I’d like to know is how Adolf got to hear about this.
JONES THE BUTCHER
Maybe Jones the Mechanic got taken prisoner. He might have blabbed, you know?
General groans from the assembled company.
JONES THE FARMER
You might have a point there, Jonesy. ‘Spect he could use it as propaganda, old Adolf. Mind, it’s going to look pretty grim for us if this gets out!
JONES THE PUBLICAN
Well that’s all very well, but what’re going to do with him? Why can’t we just hand just him over to the military…?
JONES THE FARMER
…What? With a personally signed letter from Adolf instructing him to find out about what all goes on with sheep in our village? And what do you think would happen when that gets out? The bloody place would be crawling with bloody Sun reporters faster than you could get two legs outta your wellies! Mind you, they’d get more sense from the sheep than most of you lot.
General concerned muttering. Jones the Butcher’s son (Jones TBS) stands up: a thin, pallid boy (19) who failed the medical so was not allowed to join up.
JONES TBS
I think we should kill him, Uncle Jones.
There’s silence; everyone in the room turns to look at him.
JONES THE FARMER
Have you taken leave of your senses? Kill him? Don’t be stupid boy.
JONES TBS
Well he is a German, Uncle Jones, and we are at war with them.
JONES THE FARMER
War’s got nothing to do with us here, boyo. We’re a little oasis away from all that. Well, apart from Jones the mechanic, of course; but he’s from over the valley, and that doesn’t count. We didn’t start it and until he dropped in…
JONES TBS
…Yes but he has dropped in, Uncle Jones, and if he finds out about our…well our…
JONES THE FARMER
…physical relationships with sheep? Or shall we just call it sheep shagging?
JONES THE RETARD (Sheepishly)
Hmmm…Think he might already have done so. I err, was um…with Doris this morning up by the bothy when he came to. Can’t say for sure that he didn’t see me pullin’ her legs outta my wellies. Think I agree with young Jonesy here, mind you.
JONES THE FARMER
Well I don’t, you cloth-eared half-wit. Right, this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to keep a very close eye on this here “Jones the Spy” ‘til we know just who he is and exactly what it is he’s after. I’ll have him up at the farm with me – I could use some help with the hay anyway. And when we know just what it is he’s after…well, a farm can be a very dangerous place.
(PAUSE)
JONES THE FARMER (CONTINUED)
But in the meantime, there’s to be no sheep shagging. And if he asks you anything, Retard, you say that Doris “…accidentally got stuck in your wellies”. Now is that clear?
General discontented muttering as the meeting breaks up.
8. EXT. RIVER BANK. THREE WEEKS LATER. DAY -EVENING
(THREE WEEKS LATER BANNER)
Fuchs and Myfanwy are strolling along the river bank after supper. It is a glorious evening and they have the appearance of a couple without a care in the world.
MYFANWY
So you’ve still got absolutely no idea who you are or what you’re doin’ here Gun…I mean, err…Jonesy?
FUCHS
(He stops, turns to face Myfanwy, and takes both of her hands with his)
Oh my dear, I have simply no idea, everything is a blank - well, almost everything. Sometimes at night I dream of a horrid little man in a uniform with a silly black moustache…I think he is something to do with why I’m here. But I am so happy here – I feel…I feel that I fit in, and you make me so very happy, Myfanwy. I feel that I’ve known you all my life.
MYFANWY
And you make me happy, Gun…Jonesy. Oh, I wish there was something I could call you other than Jonesy. That’s the trouble with this bloomin’ place: no one’s got any imagination – even the sheep have better names!
They walk on in silence along the river. Fuchs picks up a pebble and absently throws it into the water. There’s the sound of an anguished duck as the pebble hits it.
FUCHS
What’s he like, your Jones the Mechanic, then?
MYFANWY
Oh, he’s all right, I suppose. There’s not so many eligible men around here. He’s not handsome like you though, (laughing) but decent enough.
FUCHS
Where is he now, this Jones? (Playfully) Has he gone off to fight the jolly old Germans, what-ho?
MYFANWY
Myfanwy suddenly sighs agitatedly, turns to face Fuchs
Listen, you can stop your bloomin’ “Toodle pip” and your ruddy “what ho”s. I can’t take this ruddy pretence any longer. I know who you are - we all know who you are.
(Pause)
You’re not a Jones at all! You’re a German spy…and you’re called Gunther Fuchs, You’ve been sent to spy on us by that silly little man with the black moustache. So you can stop this ruddy charade once and for all!
Fuchs stops and turns to face Myfanwy. He tries to take her hands again but she pulls them away.
FUCHS
So you found the letter…?
MYFANWY
Of course we found the ruddy letter. You dropped it on the bedroom floor the first night you were here. I just can’t think what you’re here to spy on.
Myfanwy turns and walks along the river bank. Fuchs, head down and dejected, follows behind. Suddenly, she stops and turns towards him.
(Pause)
Look, you’re a nice lad Gunther. I…I like you…I like you a lot. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Don’t you see? Everyone’s watching you, studying your every move to see what it is you’re after. Once they find out what you’re here for…I think they’re going to kill you!
Myfanwy, facing Fuchs, throws her arms around his neck and buries her head in his chest, sobbing.
9. EXT. JONES THE FARMER’S FARMYARD. THREE WEEKS LATER. DAY
(THREE WEEKS LATER BANNER)
The men have just come in from the field: Jones TF, three elderly farm hands, Jones TBS and Fuchs. It is a glorious evening, and the end of a long day in the field. Jones TF drives the carthorse that pulls the hay wagon while the others walk alongside. Fuchs, chewing a piece of hay, looks happy and relaxed. He appears to be a popular and industrious member of the workforce – he is at least half the age of the next youngest.
JONES THE FARMER (to Fuchs)
Good work today, Jonesy.
(PAUSE) (Then to the other workers)
Pity the rest of you old buggers can’t stack hay like Jonesy here. We’d have the job done in half the ruddy time.
(PAUSE) (Then to Fuchs)
Fancy a pint at the Lamb tonight, Jonesy? Reckon you’ve earned it ‘an all!
FUCHS
That would be super, Mr Jones. I promised I’d help Myfanwy with a spot of gardening, but I’d be delighted to join you later.
JONES TBS
Yea, well you just be careful that that’s all you help her with. You try pruning her bush and you’ll have me to answer to!
JONES THE FARMER
Now, steady on boy, we’ll have none of that talk. We all know Myfanwy’s promised to Jones the Mechanic anyway.
JONES TBS
Well that’s if he comes back…And if he doesn’t I’m next in line, so don’t forget that.
10. INT. IN MRS JONES KITCHEN – DAY (later that evening)
Fuchs and Myfanwy are washing up after the evening meal. Myfanwy is washing the dishes at the sink and Fuchs is drying them and placing them on racks.
FUCHS
What does your father do my dear? Is he fighting too?
MYFANWY
Good Lord no! He died in 1939. He was an undertaker – the only one in the village. Trouble was, he liked a drink. Mother found him stone cold one morning out in the barn, an empty bottle of embalming fluid by his side. She said that as he’d managed to embalm himself, it was a shame he couldn’t bury himself and all. Save her the trouble.
FUCHS (with embarrassment)
Oh, I’m sorry.
(Pause)
I think that Jones boy, you know, the pale wheezy one…
MYFANWY
…Jones the Butcher’s son?
FUCHS
Yes. I think he - you know…
MYFANWY
...Fancies me?
FUCHS
Yes, fancies you. He said that if Jones the Mechanic didn’t come back, he’d be next in line your...err...affection.
MYFANWY (Laughing)
Well, he can dream on. If anything did happen to Jones the Mechanic, there wouldn’t be a queue long enough to put him at the back of.
Fuchs flicks the tea towel over his shoulder and walks towards Myfanwy. She turns to face him.
FUCHS (impishly)
And, should that happen – perish the thought – where would I be in that queue?
They are almost in each other’s arms when the door bursts open and Jones the Farmer rushes in.
JONES THE FARMER
Come quick! There’s been an accident! Jones the Butcher’s sons’ fallen into the brook and the boy can’t swim!
11. EXT. OUTSIDE MRS JONES’ BOARDING BY THE VILLAGE SQUARE – DAY
Jones the Farmer, Fuchs and Myfanwy rush across the village square to the brook. There’s a water wheel by the mill and a deep mill pond in which Jones TBS is floundering. Fuchs dives in and pulls Jones TBS from the water, dragging him up the bank to lay him on the grass. Slowly, Jones TBS gets to his hands and knees, coughing, panting and spitting out water. Fuchs takes his shirt off to reveal a six-pack, wrings out his shirt and turns to face Jones the Farmer (Jones TF).
MYFANWY
How on earth did that happen, Uncle Jones?
JONES TF
He was coming to have a word with you and Jones the Spy ‘ere. Said he was going to confront the both of you about…well, you know how the boy feels about you, Myfanwy…I don’t think he liked the thought of Jones ‘ere trimming your bush…
MYFANWY
…Yes but he’s my cousin, I mean we’re practically siblings…in fact who knows, we might be. And in any case, he knows I’m promised to Jones the Mechanic.
Jones TBS has got to his feet, and has picked up a large plank of wood.
JONES TF
Well I hate to be pedantic, but with what goes on around here and all…I don’t think that keeping it in the family would be so terribly frowned upon, actually.
Jones TBS staggers unsteadily up behind Fuchs, swinging back the plank of wood, about to clobber him.
JONES TF
Duck! Jones boyo!
Too late. The plank impacts with the back of Fuchs’ head and he collapses to his knees, then his front, motionless.
MYFANFY (shocked)
Oh sweet Jesus. What the hell did you do that for, Jones? You bloody asthmatic…ponce!
Myfanwy seizes the plank from Jones TBS and makes as if to hit Jones TBS with it then throws it away, her gaze fixed on him. Jones TBS stands stock still, a little shocked by his own actions.
JONES TBS
Well he was sweet on you, Myfanwy, and he is a German spy…and you know how I feel about you, Myfanwy… you know I love…
MYFANWY
…and I know how I feel about you too. Bloody revolted! He’s not done nothin’ to you…to any of you! He even pulled you out of the pond, you ungrateful sod!
Fuchs moans softly, and the three look at him.
JONES TBS
But he’s a German spy, Myfanwy…
DISSOLVE TO:
12. INT. FUCHS’ BEDROOM - NIGHT.
Fuchs lies on his bed, on his back, a flame lantern on the table by his bed. His head is bandaged and he is in his pyjamas. He is muttering softly to himself. The camera approaches as if to pick up on what he is saying…
FUCHS (increasingly animatedly)
Yes, mein Fuhrer, I have heard of it. (Pause, incoherent speech).The Allies…the Axis of Evil captured…stole .…correction, stole one from a U Boat... A toy sheep? yes a fucking toy sheep…
(PAUSE)
(FUCHS CONTINUED) (deliriously)
...And now they pull the fucking wool over our eyes…wool…WOOL?
…Yes, mein Fuhrer; at once!
Fuchs suddenly wakes up and sits up in bed animatedly, eyes wide open.
FUCHS
(In German; English sub-titles)
That is it! They are fucking with sheep! The “Great British” people abuse the sheep! Gott in Himmel! I must collect the evidence and inform the Fuhrer so they will no longer pull the wool over our eyes and we will win the war! Heil Hitler!
Fuchs salutes and lies down in bed, falls back to sleep.
13. INT. MRS JONES’ KITCHEN – DAY
It is late the next afternoon. Fuchs has slept all day. He comes down the stairs (there is a door from the kitchen which opens to stairs to the bedrooms). Myfanwy is cooking in the kitchen, she turns and looks at him, his head is still bandaged but he is dressed in his farm labourer’s clothes.
MYFANWY
Gunther, you look awful.
FUCHS (confidently)
Gunther, yes that is my name…Gunther Fuchs; Oberstgruppenführer Gunther Fuchs. And now I have work to do. Come, my dear, let us walk…
Fuchs takes her by the arm and steers her towards the door.
MYFANWY
Oh Gunther! You’re so forceful. I can’t think what’s come over you.
14. EXT. BY THE RIVER BANK – DAY, MINUTES LATER
Fuchs and Myfanwy are walking along by the river. Fuchs wears his flat cap jauntily, as if it were the peaked, skull and cross-bone-embossed cap of the SS.
FUCHS
Come, my dear, let us lie down on the grass, and make the most of this delightful evening.
Fuchs removes his jacket and spreads it on a flat patch of grass by the river bank. They sit down side by side. He lights a cigarette, and exhales.
(Pause|)
So tell me, my dear, what exactly is it that makes sheep so attractive?
MYFANWY
I can’t think what you’d be insinuating, Gunther.
FUCHS
Oh, come come, my dear. We all know what goes on here. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
MYFANWY (concerned)
You have?
FUCHS
Of course I have. When I, err, arrived, I saw the half-wit…
MYFANWY
…retard – Jones the Retard.
FUCHS
Yes, Jones the Retard…well, it was he who was…how shall we say…dipping his wick into…
MYFANWY
…well, some men have to. You know, they have urges; and there aren’t hardly no women here now, none that’d have the likes of them anyway - even my mother, and Lord knows, she’s not fussy. I’m not saying I like it, nor approve of it, but it’s always gone on…we all turn a blind eye; (angrily) so I’ll thank you do similar!
FUCHS
Turns to face her, smiling arrogantly
I’m afraid, my dear, that will not be possible. You see, that was my mission…that is why I am here - here, in this shit-hole of a valley where the men are old or asthmatic and sheep run scared.
MYFANWY
Oh Gunther you’ve changed; that bang on the head must have done you no good at all. I don’t like you when you’re like this. (Smiling) I want you to go back to bein’ good ole Jones the Spy. You were lovely!
FUCHS
Yes, but I’m not just any old spy; I am Hitler’s top field operative, you see, and I must do my duty to the Fuhrer. I will collect the evidence on this…sheep shagging, and report back. Woe betides anyone who gets in my way! For when the world learns of what goes on with sheep in this valley it will change the course of history and the glorious Third Reich will reign forever…it will make the rounding up of a few Jews and homosexuals seem like, ah…what do your English public schoolboys say? Yes…like “six of the best”!
MYFANWY
Oh Gunther, I don’t like it when you talk like that…you’re scaring me.
Fuchs grabs Myfanwy’s shoulders roughly and pulls her towards him. Myfanwy struggles, eventually frees herself, gets to her feet and runs away, crying.
FUCHS (standing and shouting after her)
You have nothing to fear, my dear. Come with me – we will return to Germany and live in splendour when the Britisher dogs have been vanquished. The Fuhrer rewards those loyal to him with great generosity. You will see!
MYFANWY (running away)
Never, you evil bastard! I hate you!
15. INT. THE PUBLIC BAR OF THE LAMB AND LOVER – NIGHT (SAME DAY)
Another meeting is in progress, again controlled by Jones the Farmer. The atmosphere is a little tenser, and there is more urgency than before. There are about twenty people in the room; the same men as before plus a few more and two women are present: Mrs Jones the Boarding House and her daughter, Myfanwy.
JONES THE FARMER
Now calm down, girl and tell us again what he told you.
MYFANWY
It was like he was a different person; it didn’t seem like him at all.
JONES THE PUBLICAN (leaning on bar)
Well he’s a ruddy German, what do you expect? They’re like porcupines, Germans: keep changing their spots.
JONES TBS
Think you mean leopards, Uncle Jones.
JONES THE PUBLICAN
That’s as maybe, boyo, but I can tell you they were like bloody porcupines at the Somme: prickly bastards with barbed wire up their asses.
JONES TBS
Yes but leopards have…
JONES THE FARMER
Shut up boyo! This isn’t getting us nowhere! Now tell us again, Myfanwy , what exactly did he say?
MYFANWY (tearfully)
He said…(sobbing)…that he was in this shit hole of valley…
General muttering from the meeting.
JONES THE PUBLICAN
All right, that’s it! I’ve ruddy heard enough. Let’s hang the bas…
JONES THE FARMER
…All right Jonesy…keep your hair on. Let’s hear her out.
Jones TP looks bemused, and suspiciously feels the top of his bald head.
MYFANWY
…he said he was only in this shit hole of a valley …(sobbing again)…to gather evidence on sheep shagging and report back to Hitler. Said it would change history and that Germany would win the war ‘cos roundin’ up a few Jews and Homos was nothin’ compared to…
JONES THE FARMER
…to?
MYFANWY
…well, to what you lot get up to with sheep.
Gasps and muttering are heard from the meeting.
MYFANWY
Mind you, I didn’t say nothin’ about it though. I only told him that it had always gone on ‘cos none of yous can get your hole normal, like.
MRS JONES (shocked and embarrassed by her daughter’s outburst)
Myfanwy! Girl! How dare you use such language!
MYFANWY (hysterical)
Well it’s true and you know it! You’re all a bunch of bloody freaks!
JONES TR
There’s nothing wrong with it – it’s always gone on. Mind, I always talk nice to Doris before I…
JONES THE FARMER
…Yes, all right, Retard. So, Myfanwy you didn’t tell him nothing then, did you? No, just the whole bloody story!
MYFANWY
Said he knew anyway. (Pointing at Jones the Retard). Said he’d seen him!
General concerned muttering, then the room lapses into silence.
JONES THE FARMER
Right, well, I’m afraid that Jones the Spy, or whatever the heck he’s called, has left us with no choice. He cannot be allowed to leave the village…Mrs Jones, you keep an eye on him at your end. I’ll watch the blighter during the day. We’ll set up road blocks at the head of Mill Field and East Field with a rota to man them…Retard…you get yourself up to that bothy of yours with enough provisions for a week and stay there with my field glasses ‘til I send word. Take a couple of pigeons with you and send them down with a message if you see him try to leave.
(PAUSE)
Oh, and leave those bloody sheep alone!
16. INT. FUCH’S BEDROOM DAY
(BANNER: FIVE WEEKS LATER)
Fuchs is sitting at the small bureau in the corner of his bedroom, dressed in his work clothes. He is writing a letter. When he has finished he reads it aloud to himself.
FUCHS
And so, after exhaustive enquiry and extensive espionage, I have been unable to uncover any further evidence that the Britishers have habitual sex with sheep. The practice seems to be confined to a hill-dwelling retarded segment of the population and there is no evidence to suggest that it is widespread amongst males habituating urban areas. I conclude that there is insufficient evidence...
There is the sound of a woman sobbing (OS). Fuchs stands, and looks out of the window where he sees Myfanwy with her back to him leaning over the garden wall, staring across the valley, towards the village of Jones the Mechanic. Fuchs folds the letter, places it in his inside jacket pocket and leaves the room.
17 EXT. EXT. MRS JONES’S GARDEN – DAY
It is another glorious evening. Fuchs enters the garden, quietly, and stands for a moment behind Myfanwy. As he draws closer, he can see her shoulders heave and hear her sobbing.
FUCHS
My dear, whatever is the matter?
Myfanwy turns to face him with a tear-stained face. Fuchs approaches and she falls into his arms.
MYFANWY
Oh Gunther, there’s just been a telegram arrived across the valley…Jones, my Jones the Mechanic. He’s been killed!
Myfanwy starts sobbing, uncontrollably.
FUCHS
My dear, my dear…there…there………….there
Myfanwy angrily beats her fists on Fuchs’s chest.
MYFANWY
This stupid…stupid war. What does it matter anyway? British, German, Italian, French…God we’ll probably all be ruled by the ruddy Belgians in a generation’s time!
(PAUSE) (Calmer now, as Fuchs strokes her hair)
MYFANWY (CONTINUED)
That poor, poor boy…you know I didn’t really love him…it’s just so sad…so sad. He would have made a good husband, mind. And where are we going to get the van fixed now?
FUCHS
Come with me, Myfanwy…come with me back to Germany. I can find nothing here that will change the course of the war. I have failed the Fuhrer…I have let him down. The war will be lost because of me but we will re-build Germany…you and I…
MYFANWY (suddenly laughing)
Oh Gunther, you are a one. You and your Fuhrer; If only you could forget about him for one minute… like the old Jones the Spy. You are such an…oh… what’s the word…?
FUCHS (mellowing)
…nin-com-poop?
MYFANWY
…no, such a…oh…what do you call it when you’re one first one thing and then the other…?
FUCHS (confused)
… Paranoid schizophrenic? Psychiatrically fucked –up?
MYFANWY (laughing)
No…silly…I’ve never heard you swear…No…I know! You’re an ENIMGA!
Fuchs releases Myfanwy, takes a pace back and looks up, as if stunned.
FUCHS
ENIGMA! My God that’s it! This had nothing to do with sheep…nothing even to do with Wales. The Enigma machine! Now I remember! That’s what my mission was – I must destroy or re-capture it! Myfanwy, (grabbing her arms, urgently) where is Bletchley Park?
MYFANWY
Oh Gunther, I’ve never heard of Bletchley Park. I don’t know…maybe it’s near Merthyr Tydfil?
FUCHS
I don’t know my love (holding her close and gazing into her eyes). I know that I love you though, and I will take you away from all this.
MYFANWY
Gunther, I can’t leave mother. I can’t leave here with Uncle Jones and Jones the Retard and…
FUCHS
…And that psychotic bed-wetter, Jones the Butcher’s Son? You know he won’t leave you alone now.
MYFANWY
…Hmmm. You’re right. I’ll pack!
18. INT. MYFANWY’S ROOM – DAY (moments later)
Myfanwy is frantically throwing clothes into on open suitcase as Fuchs reclines on the settle by the window, smoking a cigarette.
FUCHS
We will go to London then look for Bletchley Park…
Myfanwy stops packing and turns towards him.
MYFANWY
…Listen Gunther, I love you…I always have done ever since I set eyes on you that mornin’ when the Retard found you… well apart from when you had your weird goose-stepping turn…
(PAUSE)
(she walks towards him and puts her arms round his neck)
But I’m only comin’ with you on one condition, and that is you give up this Bletchley Park nonsense…and for that matter, give up the ruddy Fuhrer too.
FUCHS
(stands, flicks cigarette out of window and takes her in his arms)
Myfanwy, you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved…I’ll give up anything for you…well, maybe not quite anything…
MYFANWY (playfully, teasing)
Not quite anything…?
FUCHS
Well, my love for you will be unrequited…but I still love Bayern Munich…
MYFANWY (grabbing his hands, urgently)
Sod Bayern Munich, Gunther…you’re not going to leave the village alive without me. They’ve got ambushes at every road-head and spotters waitin’ for you to make a move. But I have a plan…
They kiss passionately…
DISSOLVE TO…
19. INT INSIDE MRS JONES’S BARN - DAY
Myfanwy and Fuchs clear the straw off an ancient hearse (her father was an undertaker). There is a coffin in the corner of the barn, stood upright.
MYFANWY
There, just as I told you.
FUCHS
God, it’s ancient. Are you sure it’ll start?
MYFANWY
Course, it will! What did you think I did to keep Jones the Mechanic’s oily paws off me? He’d make sure it was purrin’ like a kitten before he got his cocoa.
FUCHS
Cocoa? Never heard it called that before. Well as long as it’s not bleating like a sheep…
MYFANWY
…hey, that’s enough about sheep. We’re leavin’ that all behind us! Right, let’s get that coffin in the back then you crank the startin’ handle…
FUCHS
Sure you can drive this thing?
MYFANWY
Course! Once it starts, throw open the doors and get in the coffin…I’ll slam the door and we’re out of here. Be quick, mind, ‘cos once the Retard sees us those pigeons will be on the way.
There’s a flurry of action as Fuchs cranks. The old vehicle’s reluctant to start and nothing happens despite Fuchs’s best efforts.
CUT TO:
20. INT. THE LAMB AND LOVER PUBLIC BAR – DAY
Jones the Framer and Jones the Doctor are seated at a table. Jones TBS is idly throwing darts at the dart board. Jones TP is leaning on the bar, as usual. There’s a very quiet, subdued atmosphere.
JONES THE FARMER
If you ask me, he knows nothing. He would have cut and run by now if he…
Sound of cranking of engine (O.S.) Jones TBS stops throwing darts and strains to hear.
JONES THE DOCTOR
What on earth’s that noise?
JONES TBS (nodding his head, knowingly)
That’s the hearse being started Uncle Jones…told you he’d be up to something…If that bastard’s taken Myfanwy hostage I’ll…
JONES THE FARMER
…Relax, boyo, he’s goin’ nowhere.
Jones TF put his hand into his pocket and pulls out a large metal pin.
JONES THE FARMER
I took the liberty of removin’ this; it’s an immobilizer. He can crank away ‘til sheep learn to talk. Right, (standing up) now we know his true colours, round everyone up Jonesy, fetch my shotgun and sound the hunting horn! Tell everyone to make their way to the barn! Pronto!
21 INT. MRS JONES’S BARN – NIGHT (minutes later)
Fuchs has given up cranking and is breathless.
FUCHS
It’s no use, Myfanwy, it’s not going to start.
(PAUSE)
Lifts up the bonnet and searches inside. He slams the lid down and walks to the driver’s door, inside which Myfanwy is seated.
FUCHS (CONTINUED)
Well, Looks like Jones the Mechanic had his cocoa under false pretences! Seems he wanted to make sure you weren’t going anywhere. He’s removed the immobilizer!
MYFANWY
He wouldn’t have taken it – it must have been Uncle Jones. Right, it’s time for plan B! Can you ride?
FUCHS
Of course! Where is the motorcycle?
MYFANWY
Horse!
FUCHS
...err…
MYFANWY
Well you’ll have to learn fast! Come on.
They run out of the barn together. Outside the light is fading. There is the sound of a mob approaching, still some distance away. Someone sounds a hunting horn in the distance.
22. EXT. THE STABLES BEHIND MRS JONES’S HOUSE – DAY (seconds later)
Inside the stables are two large horses, one black and one bay. Myfanwy collects an array of tack and hands a saddle and bridle to Fuchs. The sound of the mob is getting closer.
MYFANWY
Don’t suppose you know how to tack up?
Fuchs shakes his head and stands holding the tack. Myfanwy expertly tacks up the bay in seconds and enters the stable where the black horse is becoming extremely agitated, rearing and whickering.
MYFANWY (CONTINUED)
You ride this one…he’s my horse; he’ll follow me ‘cos he’ll be jealous.
FUCHS
But the thing’s a psychopath! Think I’d rather take my chances with the mob!
MYFANWY
It’s the hunting horns that set him off – he’ll be fine - trust me.
23 EXT. OUTSIDE THE STABLES – DAY
Still some daylight, but the light’s fading fast. Myfanwy leads both horses from the barn. They are both agitated with the sound of the approaching mob. To the right the mob can be seen walking steadily up the slope towards the lane leading to Mrs Jones’s boarding house. They stop at the end of the lane, around 20 of them, some with cudgels, some with pitch forks and Jones TF with an ancient shot gun. Someone keeps sounding the hunting horn which further agitates the horses.
MYFANWY
Right…keep the weight in your heels, sit deep in the saddle, keep a light contact on the reins to let the horse know you’ve got him…not too sharp, mind, or he’ll bolt…and hold on with your legs like grim bloody death! If we have to jump anythin’, just follow me!
FUCHS
…Jump? You’ve got to be joking?
24. EXT. OUTSIDE THE STABLES – NIGHT
Myfanwy legs Fuchs onto the black horse who rears but Fuchs manages to hold on.
FUCHS (excitedly)
Yippee-eye-aye!
Myfanwy athletically mounts the bay horse.
MYFANWY
Don’t get ahead of yourself cowboy! Right let’s go!
25. EXT. BOTTOM OF LANE LEADING TO MRS JONES’S BOARDING HOUSE – DAY
The 20 villagers are gathering branches and general debris to form a barricade across the lane. On either side is a hedge, about one and a half metres high.
JONES THE FARMER
Right lads, listen up – they’ll be down here any moment. Make as much noise as you can – Jonesy, keep sounding that horn. The horses will spook when they see us. Grab Myfanwy and leave the Kraut to me! Undertood?
There’s a general murmur of acceptance along with a buzz of excitement.
26. EXT. OUTSIDE STABLES TOWARDS LANE – DAY (FUCHS’S POV)
Myfanwy sets off; Fuchs follows behind, dirt from the lane flicks up to his face from the hooves of Myfanwy’s mount as the horses gather speed. Fuchs follows the rear of Myfanwy’s horse through the dust. The barricade, the sound of the horn and the hostile mob waving cudgels and shouting is getting closer: 100 metres…50 metres…20 metres…suddenly Myfanwy veers off to the left. Fuchs’s horse follows – he hasn’t been taught how to use his legs to steer. He just about manages to stay on board. Myfanwy is riding directly at the hedge.
FUCHS (panicky)
…OHHHHHHHH….S…H...I….T…!!!
(END FUCHS’S POV)
MYFANWY (yelling over left shoulder)
Hold on Gunther…I love you!
27. EXT. FACING THE HEDGE, FIVE STRIDES OUT – DAY
SLOW MOTION SEQUENCE
Myfanwy’s horse jumps the hedge landing in the lane and, on a bounce stride, jumps the huge hedge on the other side into a large field leading uphill towards the bothy. Fuchs, a stride behind, follows. He lands on the horse’s neck from the first jump, and manages to sit up. His horse jumps the second hedge, but he has sat too far back and is catapulted spectacularly backwards from the horses’ back, landing heaving on his head.
END SLOW MOTION SEQUENCE
Myfanwy, who is half way across the field, realises he’s not behind her, pulls up her horse and turns round to see Fuchs lying prone on the ground and his mount standing beside him, grazing lugubriously. Myfanwy gallops back, dismounts and kneels by Fuchs, shaking him. He groans and opens his eyes. She smiles.
MYFANWY (softly)
You’re a one…no more goose steppin’?
FUCHS (with a wink)
Nein, mein Fraulein!
Myfanwy pulls Fuchs to his feet and helps him onto the back of the bay horse; she mounts her own (black) who rears and spins in the direction of the approaching mob. Horse neighs loudly. The mob pours through the gate 50 metres away and advances threateningly. Jones the Farmer stops and carefully aims his gun at Fuchs. He holds the shot line for five seconds, and then very slowly he lowers it, never taking his eyes off The German.
JONES THE FARMER (who doesn’t know that he’s off the hook re. sheep)
Ah fuck it…I never liked sheep much anyway.
As he lowers his gun, he noticed a folded piece of paper on the ground where Fuchs had fallen. He walks towards it, the mod following behind him like sheep. He picks it up and reads out loud.
JONES THE FARMER (CONTINUED)
...The practice seems to be confined to a hill-dwelling retarded segment of the population and there is no evidence to suggest that it is widespread amongst males habituating urban areas. I conclude that there is insufficient evidence to mount a case against the Britishers for sheep abuse on an endemic level.
Jones the Farmer folds the letter and tucks it inside his jacket pocket.
28. EXT. OPEN FIELD OPPOSITE MRS JONES’S HOUSE LEADING UP TO BOTHY – DAY
In the fading light, Myfanwy and Fuchs gallop up the field, reaching the top where the bothy is. They stop to look down on the mob, now dispersing and heading back to the Lamb & Lover. They walk, on horseback, along a broad path, towards the bothy, the danger now passed. Suddenly they hear a plaintive bleating and an odd grunting noise coming from the corner of the field outside the bothy… Fuchs looks at Myfanwy shrugs his shoulders, they both laugh and ride on…
FADE OUT
THE END
