Emily
Inside child.
Morning, Emily, have you mopped down
the scullery floor?
It was an awful mess this morning.
Yes, mother.
Good. Now I've got some fresh bread from the bakery
and a good ham from
Mr. Chalmers in the village.
I thought I could make you a birthday supper.
Would that cheer you up even a little?
- Maybe a little. - I've never known
anyone so ungrateful Emily.
Your moods are beginning
to cast a black shadow over this house
and heaven only knows that's the last thing it needs.
You need to get a grip darling.
I am not going to be around
to answer your every whim forever.
You do realise that, don't you?
Wake up Emily. You know what to do. Hurry now.
Hurry along.
Good morning.
Morning Madam.
How are you today? Keeping well. I hope.
Yes mustn't grumble, and you?
I'm very well. Thank you for asking.
Just a couple of bits for you today
and this for the young lady of the house.
- Thank you. - How is Miss Emily?
We don't see her in the village.
Oh well she's quite well. Thank you very much.
I shall pass on your best regards. Now I really must be
getting on, good day
Madam
[Emily VO - Dearest diary.
Although I have such little concept of time
and my days such as they are still drag on,
today is a special day.
My 18th birthday has arrived to little fanfare.
I can of course envisage from the books I have read
young women on the
outside celebrating their passing into womanhood
with grand parties
and with their adoring friends and families.
All I have to aid in my celebration, his mother
and this wretched house,
this prison built on the foundations of my malaise.
I know she's hiding things from me.
Secrets she keeps under lock and key.
Secrets I must one day expose.
I am going to take a walk back into the village dear.
Do you have any specific requests being
that this is your special day?
Maybe I could make us a trifle for afters
would make a nice change, wouldn't it?
We need new cleaning cloths.
These ones are turning into rags.
They're practically useless.
Well, that's not very exciting, is it?
I can't be buying you cleaning rags
for your birthday now can I?
I don't need you to buy me anything mother. Just be quick.
I'll do my best to be back by seven.
In fact, you should come with me.
What? - Come with me dear. It's important.
You need to come with me to the village.
No, mother. No, Come on.
Come on Emily.
Will you come on, you need to stop fighting me.
You need to leave the house
- No, please no. I can't. - Come on!
My mother speaks of the village
as if this is something I should be able to envisage,
something I should be able
to somehow conjure up in my mind.
I hope, dear reader, that you will understand fully the anguish
and pain I feel, that I cannot.
I know that one day as my mother grows older
and I mature in years, that I will have to brave the outside
and the terrors that it holds
as each day passes,
I grew more aware of this immovable fact.
Aren't you going to open it then?
I do hope you like it.
I really do you have such trouble knowing what to get to
as the years pass.
Mrs. Ratton at the jewellers said it would've
been part of a set.
Well,
It's a kind thought.
Thank you.
It must have been very expensive. How did you afford it?
It doesn't matter. Put it on then.
I might put it on later.
I really like it. Thank you mother.
It's just that we really should be
saving every penny for the
upkeep of the house.
I am afraid the money that I earn won't even begin
to cover the work needed here.
We may as well spend it on something nice.
Now I want all that eaten up.
If you want to have any trifle,
Then why don't we sell the house?
Let somebody else take care of the upkeep.
It must be worth a fortune.
You know exactly why?
No, I don't, but please do let me know.
It's because of you.
It's because of your illness.
I would happily move from this godforsaken pile,
but how are we to do that when you cannot even open the
front door
and we've already sold almost every damn thing in the place
And what of my father surely he could help with
You don't have a father.
I'm going to bed. I've had enough of you
and your attitude this evening.
I do everything I can for you and this is what I get.
You are so terribly ungrateful
and you dare to mention that scoundrel in this house.
His house.
Hello?
Who's there
Mother?
I know it's out there and despite having never seen its
face, never having looked into its eyes,
it represents the door
to this prison in which I am confined.
One day I shall be free.
Free from it, and free from her.
What's the matter, mother? You don't sound well.
I'm fine dear. Now, how are you this morning?
How does it feel to be 18?
Much the same as 17, I would imagine.
Yes I suppose. Mother would now be a
good time for us to have a little talk.
I have some things on my mind
that I feel would be very helpful to share.
Of course dear, won't you come and sit down
now what is the issue at hand young lady?
You've not been yourself lately.
Let's see if we can make you feel better.
Is he dead? Who dear? You know who? Mother.
I just need you to be honest with me.
Just this once. Why are there
No pictures?
How many times, we don't talk about him?
He's the reason we cannot afford to eat
or light this damned house. But I want to talk about him.
Where is he? What do you know? You have to tell me.
He's my father.
All I can tell you dear is that he's not worth the energy
you seem so very keen on giving him.
I promise you, no good can come from these questions.
Is he dead? I don't think so. No.
You don't think so? So do you know where he is?
You have to tell me.
I'm afraid I simply cannot. Emily,
one day you will understand.
One day it'll become crystal clear to you.
I promise you that. Now, I'm
going to take a bath and I would appreciate some quiet.
Mother, stop, please.
What?
What's the matter with you now?
Why am I like this?
- Like what? - Why am I so helpless?
Surely a normal girl of my years would simply go out
and find her father and be damned what her mother thinks.
I just want to go outside. Is that really so much to ask?
You'll do well to mind your tone young lady.
I don't know why you are like you are.
I suppose some people are born blind, others
with a physical deformities.
You have your mental issues
and I'm afraid that is your cross to bear, not mine.
I know you say it's all in my mind,
but I truly do believe it to be real. The creature.
It's not real Emily,
how many times
listen to yourself dear.
You sound like a mad woman - creatures indeed.
Well, maybe I am exactly that. Maybe I am mad.
At least that would confirm to me that
what I see is imaginary.
It would help me sleep at night?
I really don't know what I can say
to put your mind at rest dear.
- It's out there now. - What?
Come and see for yourself. It's in the trees.
There's nothing there, Emily. Nothing at all.
What are we to do with you?
There is something.
- Then just name it. - Sit with me tonight.
I can feel it in me. It'll come to the house tonight.
I need you to see it.
Of course dear. I'm taking a
stroll into the village
in a moment - maybe I could get us cocoa
and shortbread, something tasty for the vigil.
I have decided with some trepidation
to use this diary entry to write a letter to the father.
I have never known - Dearest father,
The pages of this diary are a testament
to a life you have not known
to a daughter you have never held
and to a cursed house That now holds me prisoner.
There is so much I can tell you about
how I have arrived at this moment.
So much you have missed and so much I would dearly
MOTHER!
Please mother,
Help us,
please.
- Is she dead? - No. She's breathing.
Please help me get her inside.
I'm sorry I'm I'm afraid I can't.
Please miss Emily, help.
I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't.
Please forgive me.
I have a fear.
A fear that one day soon my mother will no longer be here.
I fear that this will leave me bereft.
I am ashamed that I have been left so helpless
by this woman, a woman I love
and detest in equal measures.
I'm sorry dear.
I am sorry for what I did.
What did you do? You are always mine.
That's why
still mine.
The whole world knew, I could not let you...
You were so young.
So innocent
No, no, no mother.
No
Mother, no.
- November the third. - What?
What did you say, mother? What did you say?
Look, all the doors, bolt all the windows - hide.
Hide yourself away. Emily.
November... the third.
Good morning mother.
What have you done?
What on earth am I supposed to do?
Yesterday was a day I have been dreading for
what seems like an eternity.
She has gone and taken with her so many secrets that I
so wish she could have shared
and me, I have a battle of my own that has just begun.
I'm 18 now, a woman, and I have to act in such a manner
and I have to overcome these demons that reside inside me,
the demons that reside inside me
and the demon that resides out there.
Why have you done this? Why have you chosen now to die?
And why did you teach me so little?
For goodness sake, I cannot even prepare my own porridge.
I am helpless.
You must of course know mother, that I will do all I can
to have you buried and for service to be held in your honour.
I intend to use this obligation as the jolt I require
to change my life, to be born again.
I must be brave.
I know, but I now feel I have no choice in the matter.
Be brave, be born again
or perish in the bed next to yours.
Inside child, inside.
Mother
If you can hear me, if you are in the better
place, please help me.
I beg of you, please come back
and save me from whomever
or whatever is haunting this place.
Is haunting me.
Dear diary, of all the
awful things that have happened over recent hours,
one thought has entered my mind
and will not leave - November the third.
These were my mother's last words.
A glance at the calendar tells me I have just a
month to wait.
I know of course that I need to eat.
I believe there are provisions in the basement,
but mother has always told me
that it is an evil, malevolent place
and that I must never venture down there.
But still, I must eat
There's evil down here where the black hand hides
She thinks it's where the devil resides
The night.
Why must you come?
Emily
No, I'm not scared of you.
I shouldn't be bullied in my own home.
It's time
Time for what?
You cannot hurt me. You are the outside.
And although this house is my prison, I am the inside.
After all these years, the years of torment you
of caused me - hurt me,
you cannot.
It's just noise. Noise cannot hurt you.
You are nothing. Just shapes
and sounds to curse me in my life.
I shall not sleep tonight and not because of you,
but because I will wait for the day to break.
And when it does, I will start a new life
tomorrow I shall be reborn.
You are the outside.
Emily
You are the outside
You are not here.
If the girl goes to sleep
and is afraid no more,
Then the hell that is outside
will open the door.
I have waited mother,
I have stayed alive
until today, the day you said that.
Well, you said nothing. You uttered the words.
And then you died, selfish to the last.
Your deed has turned the last month
of my life into a living nightmare.
And yet here I am, waiting for
the unknown,
waiting for nothing
If she's left on her own and
is starting to cry
- then Emily knows that... - Emily must die.
Dear reader,
this entry will be brief as I have not the energy
to write more than a few words.
This house will soon lie empty and the memories
and nightmares that it holds within its walls
will soon be forgotten.
I hope that in the future a wonderful new family will come
and make it a happy place once more. For me,
however, it has been a cruel place.
A prison who's only root
of escape it seems is death.
Goodbye.
Goodnight mother. I hope
that we shall meet in the other place.
I hope that there we shall be free.
I love you
Dear Emily.
Why are you not returning my letters?
I feel it is time for me to explain a little further.
I do hope my letters are reaching you young Emily.
Writing them is truly the only thing
that is keeping me alive.
How could you do this?
How could you do this to me?
I hate you. I hate you so much.
What have you done?
You monster.
I write to you in the hope
that one day you may be able to forgive me.
So where to start?
Your mother and I met in 1910 on the set
of Jack Goldwyn's Moon over Cairo.
I was just a lowly stage hand and she a chorus girl.
We were soon married much to the disdain
of your late grandparents.
All I can really say about your mother is
how wonderful she was at the beginning.
I can never excuse what happened,
but as her notoriety grew, I found the transition
to playing second fiddle
to your mother incredibly demeaning.
The years I spent across Belgium
and France were a type of hell on earth.
But you know what was worse, Emily? Even than that?
Having to see Anna's career rocket
and stardom beckon her while I rotted away in a damp trench.
It was too much to bear.
Dear Emily, I feel it is time for me
to explain a little further.
When I returned from war, my brother Richard informed me
that your mother had been seen out in town with another man,
a famous Broadway actor.
It was soon after this that she announced
that she was pregnant.
I was told that a nanny would be brought in
to raise a child.
She wanted me, a mere Irish commoner, to disappear.
This was not a course of action I could tolerate Emily.
Dear Emily,
happy 18th birthday.
Oh, how the years have flown. I have wonderful news.
I hope to see you soon.
The governor informed me
that my release date had been brought forward due
to an error during my trial.
I shall leave this terrible place on November 3rd.
I do not know if you are reading this
as you have never replied to my correspondence,
but if by some chance you are, I want you
to know just one thing.
I'm sure you have been told some hideous versions of
what took place in the basement on that winter night,
but please believe me, Emily, I acted out of love
and out of passion.
No one believes they're capable of murder
until they're pushed to their limits.
Your mother did not deserve to die as she did,
but I did not deserve to be treated
as I was. In my mind
once she was gone, I could care for you,
but of course I was not in my right mind.
I was quickly arrested
and you, just a helpless child, were left in the
care of the nanny.
I hope she looked after you, Emily. Soon
I shall apologise to you in person
where I shall make everything right.
Until then, Patrick,
You are not my mother.
Who the hell are you?
The basement - mother
Dearest Emily, my love.
If you are reading this letter, then I am gone.
Please forgive me.
I should have told you all of this
before we parted but I was too ashamed,
ashamed of my appalling act.
I knew that terrible book.
I created - a book that I made you read night
after night as a child would haunt you so
and haunt you it did.
I simply could not think of a less cruel way
to keep you from the evils of the world outside
and to keep you from finding out the awful truth.
Truth is important Emily.
You will guess from the newspaper clippings
that I kept, that I am not your mother
and I am equally ashamed of this betrayal.
Your mother Anna, was a wonderful
and talented woman, a force of nature cut down
by a jealous monster called Patrick Quinn.
Quinn is not your father and he knows this to be true.
He vowed during his sentencing that he would be back
to finish his work should he ever be released.
I of course, believed he would rot in prison
until the day he died.
And this is why I have never passed on any of his letters.
Letters that were full of his twisted lies.
Quinn is to be released on the 3rd of November.
Emily, I truly hope that
by the time you are reading this letter,
that date will have long since passed
and that Quinn will have disappeared like the miserable
coward that he is - and that you...
Hello, Emily.
Where are you going? Look, at you - you're a mess?
Why don't you come through here and
we'll clean you up.
First thing we need to clear up is a question
that's been eating me for many, many years.
Why did you not return my letters?
WHY?
I never saw the letters. I promise you that.
Did you not wonder where I was or even who I was?
Of course, I've been longing for somebody
to save me from this place.
What do you mean 'this place'?
Surely it's the dream of any young girl
to live in a house like this.
This is a house I've dreamed of living in night after night.
I would happily have swapped.
Swapped!
You don't know what you're saying.
You have no clue as to what I've been through.
Why did you murder my mother? How could you
Well you see little lady,
if you'd read me letters, you'd know - she was a whore.
She belittled me for years
and then when I was away fighting, fighting
to keep her safe,
she screwed that man.
You didn't have to kill her. You could have just divorced.
Listen, I didn't mean to kill her,
But things got out of hand.
I just wanted her scarred.
I wanted her to have a face that no one could love.
A face that would stop her working, stop her mocking me
and stop other men from wanting her.
But she was a
lot tougher than I gave her credit for.
You see, she put up
quite a fight.
I can tell you.
That is enough.
Oh, no.
No, it's not.
Do you know why I'm here?
Did that nanny of yours tell you what I said? I bet she did.
Where is she anyway, where is she hiding?
- She's gone. - Gone?
- Gone where? - Just gone.
The other men I fought with are all living happily now.
Some of them have grandchildren,
you know
What did I get?
Years of hell in that place.
And a bastard child.
- I'm not your child, - You're quite right?
But this is my house
and I intend to live in it for the rest of my days
without you
So how would you like
to do this?
Best not put up too much of a fight
Downstairs.
- What? - I want you to do it downstairs.
If I am to die, please let it be where my mother died.
It's all I ask
As you wish.
Up.
- Where? - What?
Where did it happen?
Here, let's just get this done.
I have other things to take care of.
Where Exactly
Here, this is where she laid.
I know who you are and I know you are a good woman.
You asked for forgiveness.
I happily grant you that
Sleep well.