The Matthews family walks up the gravel path to St. Cuthbert's. The air is cold and damp, smelling of wet stone and yew trees. A small crowd of mourners in dark coats are clustered by the heavy oak doors, speaking in hushed, respectful tones. REGGIE leads the way, adopting a solemn expression that sits awkwardly on his face.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(In a loud whisper)
Right, look sharp. No slouching, Archie. And for God's sake, don't talk to anyone unless they talk to you first. We're here to pay our respects, not to have a chinwag.
CINDY MATTHEWS
And you, Reggie, try not to look so pleased with yourself for getting a morning off work. Head down, look mournful. Think of England's chances in the Ashes.
They step into the church. The air inside is even colder, thick with the scent of damp hymn books and beeswax. Muted light filters through the stained-glass windows. An organ plays a low, mournful voluntary. Several pews are already occupied.
BART MATTHEWS
(Quietly, to Isobel)
Quite a turnout. More than I expected.
ISOBEL DAVISON
People come for the spectacle as much as the sentiment, I think. It's something to do.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
This'll do. In you go.
Reggie ushers his family into a pew halfway down the nave. CINDY directs BRADLEY to sit between her and REGGIE. ARCHIE is about to slide in next to his mother when a young man in a heavy tweed jacket, already sitting at the end of the pew, shuffles along slightly to make room. ARCHIE finds himself sitting next to the stranger. The young man has a square jaw, ruddy cheeks from outdoor work, and hands that look too big and rough for the delicate prayer book he's ignoring. This is WILLIAM SUGDEN.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
(Muttering to himself)
Brilliant.
William hears him and glances over. He doesn't look angry, just weary.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
(In a low, gravelly Cumbrian accent)
Don't know why I bothered coming, m'self. Mother insisted. Said it was the Christian thing to do.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
My dad made me come. Said he was a family friend.
William lets out a short, bitter laugh that he smothers quickly.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Friend? Jay Shakespeare didn't have friends. He had creditors and victims. My father was one of them. Your dad one of the lucky ones, was he?
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
(Intrigued)
I don't know. He used to buy my dad a lot of beer.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Aye, that sounds about right. Buying loyalty with other people's money. He 'bought' my father's prize Herdwick ram off him one night at the pub. Paid him with a cheque that bounced so high it nearly hit the moon. We never saw the ram or the money again.
Before Archie can respond, CINDY leans past him.
CINDY MATTHEWS
Archibald, face the front. Shush now.
The main church doors creak open wider. A hush falls over the congregation. The organist transitions into "Abide with Me". Four pallbearers, including a grim-faced FREDERICK LLOYD, begin the slow walk down the aisle with the polished wooden coffin.
Behind them walks a solitary young woman. She is pale, dressed in a simple, elegant black dress and a small veiled hat. This is FAITH SHAKESPEARE. She holds herself with a fragile composure. She takes her seat in the front pew, next to an elderly couple, JED and BARBARA CHESTERFIELD. Across the aisle sit WALLACE TELFORD and his sullen teenage son, LEON.
The vicar, a portly man with a gentle voice, takes to the lectern.
VICAR
We are gathered here today, in the sight of God, to commend to His loving care our brother departed, Jason 'Jay' Shakespeare. To give thanks for his life, and to comfort one another in our grief… Before we proceed with the reading, his daughter, Faith, would like to say a few words.
Faith walks to the lectern. She takes a moment, unfolding a small piece of paper with trembling hands. William Sugden shifts in his seat, crossing his arms tightly.
FAITH SHAKESPEARE
(Her voice is quiet but clear, carrying through the silent church)
Thank you all for coming. My father… my father was not a simple man. He was not a quiet man. He was a man of great appetites, for life, for laughter… for friendship. Some people might have found him… difficult.
A low, guttural scoff escapes William. Archie glances at him. The farmer's jaw is set like a slab of granite.
FAITH SHAKESPEARE
(CONT'D)
But the man I knew was my Dad. He was the man who taught me how to fly a kite on Orrest Head. He was the man who told me stories of rogues and kings until I fell asleep. He had a twinkle in his eye that could charm the birds from the trees. And he was generous. So generous. If he had two pennies, he would give you one. If he had only a shirt on his back, he would offer you that, too.
William makes a sharp intake of breath. His fist clenches on his tweed-clad knee, the knuckles turning white. He begins to mutter, just loud enough for Archie to hear.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Generous with what wasn't his to give…
FAITH SHAKESPEARE
(Her voice thickens with emotion)
He loved this land. He loved the fells and the lakes. He'd say they were in his blood. He wasn't a saint, I know that. But he had a good heart. A kind heart. And I will miss him every day for the rest of my life. I will miss my Dad.
Faith breaks down into a quiet sob, covering her face as she returns to her seat. Barbara Chesterfield puts a comforting arm around her. The church is filled with the sound of sympathetic coughs and the rustling of handkerchiefs. Cindy dabs at her eye.
But beside Archie, William is visibly shaking. A low tremor of pure rage.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
(Whispering, his voice venomous)
Loved the land… Loved poaching off it, more like. Kind heart? He'd have sold his own mother for the price of a pint. The shirt off his back… he stole the bloody shirt in the first place.
Of course. Here is a lengthy, dialogue-heavy script depicting the family's arrival at the church for the funeral.
Title: The Shirt Off His Back
Date: 17th February 1960
Setting: Outside and inside St. Cuthbert's Church, Windermere. A handsome but stern-looking stone church.
(THE SCENE OPENS)
The Matthews family walks up the gravel path to St. Cuthbert's. The air is cold and damp, smelling of wet stone and yew trees. A small crowd of mourners in dark coats are clustered by the heavy oak doors, speaking in hushed, respectful tones. REGGIE leads the way, adopting a solemn expression that sits awkwardly on his face.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(In a loud whisper)
Right, look sharp. No slouching, Archie. And for God's sake, don't talk to anyone unless they talk to you first. We're here to pay our respects, not to have a chinwag.
CINDY MATTHEWS
And you, Reggie, try not to look so pleased with yourself for getting a morning off work. Head down, look mournful. Think of England's chances in the Ashes.
They step into the church. The air inside is even colder, thick with the scent of damp hymn books and beeswax. Muted light filters through the stained-glass windows. An organ plays a low, mournful voluntary. Several pews are already occupied.
BART MATTHEWS
(Quietly, to Isobel)
Quite a turnout. More than I expected.
ISOBEL DAVISON
People come for the spectacle as much as the sentiment, I think. It's something to do.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
This'll do. In you go.
Reggie ushers his family into a pew halfway down the nave. CINDY directs BRADLEY to sit between her and REGGIE. ARCHIE is about to slide in next to his mother when a young man in a heavy tweed jacket, already sitting at the end of the pew, shuffles along slightly to make room. ARCHIE finds himself sitting next to the stranger. The young man has a square jaw, ruddy cheeks from outdoor work, and hands that look too big and rough for the delicate prayer book he's ignoring. This is WILLIAM SUGDEN.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
(Muttering to himself)
Brilliant.
William hears him and glances over. He doesn't look angry, just weary.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
(In a low, gravelly Cumbrian accent)
Don't know why I bothered coming, m'self. Mother insisted. Said it was the Christian thing to do.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
My dad made me come. Said he was a family friend.
William lets out a short, bitter laugh that he smothers quickly.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Friend? Jay Shakespeare didn't have friends. He had creditors and victims. My father was one of them. Your dad one of the lucky ones, was he?
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
(Intrigued)
I don't know. He used to buy my dad a lot of beer.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Aye, that sounds about right. Buying loyalty with other people's money. He 'bought' my father's prize Herdwick ram off him one night at the pub. Paid him with a cheque that bounced so high it nearly hit the moon. We never saw the ram or the money again.
Before Archie can respond, CINDY leans past him.
CINDY MATTHEWS
Archibald, face the front. Shush now.
The main church doors creak open wider. A hush falls over the congregation. The organist transitions into "Abide with Me". Four pallbearers, including a grim-faced FREDERICK LLOYD, begin the slow walk down the aisle with the polished wooden coffin.
Behind them walks a solitary young woman. She is pale, dressed in a simple, elegant black dress and a small veiled hat. This is FAITH SHAKESPEARE. She holds herself with a fragile composure. She takes her seat in the front pew, next to an elderly couple, JED and BARBARA CHESTERFIELD. Across the aisle sit WALLACE TELFORD and his sullen teenage son, LEON.
The vicar, a portly man with a gentle voice, takes to the lectern.
VICAR
We are gathered here today, in the sight of God, to commend to His loving care our brother departed, Jason 'Jay' Shakespeare. To give thanks for his life, and to comfort one another in our grief… Before we proceed with the reading, his daughter, Faith, would like to say a few words.
Faith walks to the lectern. She takes a moment, unfolding a small piece of paper with trembling hands. William Sugden shifts in his seat, crossing his arms tightly.
FAITH SHAKESPEARE
(Her voice is quiet but clear, carrying through the silent church)
Thank you all for coming. My father… my father was not a simple man. He was not a quiet man. He was a man of great appetites, for life, for laughter… for friendship. Some people might have found him… difficult.
A low, guttural scoff escapes William. Archie glances at him. The farmer's jaw is set like a slab of granite.
FAITH SHAKESPEARE
(CONT'D)
But the man I knew was my Dad. He was the man who taught me how to fly a kite on Orrest Head. He was the man who told me stories of rogues and kings until I fell asleep. He had a twinkle in his eye that could charm the birds from the trees. And he was generous. So generous. If he had two pennies, he would give you one. If he had only a shirt on his back, he would offer you that, too.
William makes a sharp intake of breath. His fist clenches on his tweed-clad knee, the knuckles turning white. He begins to mutter, just loud enough for Archie to hear.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Generous with what wasn't his to give…
FAITH SHAKESPEARE
(Her voice thickens with emotion)
He loved this land. He loved the fells and the lakes. He'd say they were in his blood. He wasn't a saint, I know that. But he had a good heart. A kind heart. And I will miss him every day for the rest of my life. I will miss my Dad.
Faith breaks down into a quiet sob, covering her face as she returns to her seat. Barbara Chesterfield puts a comforting arm around her. The church is filled with the sound of sympathetic coughs and the rustling of handkerchiefs. Cindy dabs at her eye.
But beside Archie, William is visibly shaking. A low tremor of pure rage.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
(Whispering, his voice venomous)
Loved the land… Loved poaching off it, more like. Kind heart? He'd have sold his own mother for the price of a pint. The shirt off his back… he stole the bloody shirt in the first place.
The congregation sits. The air is thick with a mixture of genuine sorrow, feigned respect, and simmering resentment. FAITH is being quietly comforted by BARBARA CHESTERFIELD. The VICAR returns to the lectern, opens a large bible, and clears his throat. His voice, calm and sonorous, fills the cavernous space.
VICAR
A reading from the Gospel of John, chapter fourteen. "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you."
In the Matthews' pew, the holy words are punctuated by a series of tense, hushed exchanges.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
(A bitter, almost inaudible whisper)
Mansions? He'll be lucky if he gets the key to the outside privy.
Archie turns his head slightly, trying not to be obvious.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
(Whispering back)
Did he really steal your dad's ram?
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Aye. And his savings. Promised him a partnership in a new flock over on the Kirkstone Pass. Said he had land secured. My father gave him every penny we had. Two hundred pounds. Jay Shakespeare vanished with it. Drank it, most likely. My father… he never recovered. Died a broken man two years later. And she stands up there talking about a kind heart.
Further along the pew, Reggie isn't listening to the scripture. He's scanning the mourners, a grim accountant taking stock.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Nudging Cindy with his elbow)
Look at Frederick Lloyd. Stiff as a board. He's not mourning, he's making sure the lid's screwed on tight. Bet he's worried Jay left behind some bit of paper that proves Lloyd fiddled him out of the garage.
CINDY MATTHEWS
(Her eyes are on the front pew)
And Wallace Telford looks like he's swallowed a wasp. His Leon looks bored witless. What's their connection?
REGGIE MATTHEWS
Jay sold Telford a motor last year. A Hillman Minx. Said it was a runner. The engine block cracked clean in two the first time it went up The Struggle. Telford's been trying to get his money back ever since. Another satisfied customer.
In the pew behind them, Bart leans towards Isobel, his breath warm against her ear.
BART MATTHEWS
Listen to them all. Sniffing and shuffling. Half of them are here to make sure he's actually dead and not about to knock on their door asking for a fiver. Vultures, the lot of them.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(Placing a calming hand on his knee)
Hush, darling. It's a funeral. People grieve in their own way. At least they've come to show some respect. It's a kindness.
BART MATTHEWS
It's not kindness, Izzy, it's insurance. They're checking their names aren't in his will, liable for his debts.
VICAR
"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also."
The Vicar's voice booms with promise. William Sugden lets out a sound that is half-scoff, half-groan. His leg has started to bounce nervously, thumping a soft, incessant rhythm against the pew.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
(To Archie, his voice tight with fury)
Receive him? The only one who should be receiving him is the devil himself. My mother told me to come here and find forgiveness in my heart. But all I can find is rage. Looking at his daughter… she doesn't have a clue. Lives in a dream world her father paid for with other folk's misery.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
She went to a posh school down south, my mum said.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
Of course she did. On my father's money. On the Telford's money. On money he squeezed out of every poor sod in this valley dumb enough to believe his lies.
CINDY MATTHEWS
(Leaning forward sharply)
Archibald, I will not tell you again. Face the front and pray. Or at least pretend to.
Archie snaps his head forward, but his ears are still tuned to the furious farmer beside him. He can feel the heat coming off William, a furnace of righteous anger in the cold, damp church.
VICAR
"And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know." Thomas saith unto him, "Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?" Jesus saith unto him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me."
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Muttering to himself)
The way for Jay was usually through the back door of The Nag's Head with a bottle of whiskey he hadn't paid for.
BART MATTHEWS
(Whispering to Isobel)
You know, for all his faults, he lived. I'll give him that. He didn't just exist, like some of these chaps. He wrung every last drop out of it. It was just a shame it was mostly other people's drops.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(Her nurse's pragmatism showing)
And his own liver. You can't cheat biology, Bart. No matter how charming you are.
The Vicar closes the Bible with a soft thud. A collective sigh seems to pass through the congregation.
VICAR
Let us pray.
As heads bow around them, William Sugden leans one last time towards Archie, his face pale and his eyes burning with a cold fire.
WILLIAM SUGDEN
There are earthly accounts to settle before you get to the pearly gates. And Jay Shakespeare died with his ledger deep in the red. Deep in the red.