Behind the Scenes: The End of the Affair

Synopsis:
Genre: Drama, Short
 
IMDB:
7.4
Year:
1999
15 min
12 Views

This is a diary...

of...

hate.

And perhaps I wouldn't

be writing it...

if some devil hadn't made me

stop him that night...

in the rain.

You want to drown, Henry?

I wanted a bit of air.

How nice to see you, Bendrix.

How long has it been?

Ayear?

June, 1944.

As long as that?

How's Sarah?

Oh, she's out and about

somewhere.

She at the cinema?

No, she never goes.

Oh, good night, Henry.

You should go home

before you catch your death.

Is something wrong?

Let me take you home, Henry.

Or perhaps I wouldn't

be writing this...

if I had known then

who I hated.

Was it Henry?

Was it his wife Sarah?

Or was it some other

who was yet to be revealed to me?

Sarah?

See? She's out still.

Come upstairs.

Come in.

Let me get you a drink.

Whiskey, thank you.

Whiskey.

So what's troubling you,

Henry?

Sarah.

She's out for a walk now,

Bendrix.

A walk.

Well, she always was

a great walker.

Jealousy's a terrible thing.

Well, you know you

can trust me, Henry.

You know, I went so far...

as to get the name

of a private detective.

You think she's seeing someone?

- Of course you think me a fool.

- No, Henry.

I don't think you're a fool.

- You mean you think it's possible?

- Of course.

Sarah's human.

Can't sleep.

Keep picking up...

this wretched card.

Burn it.

- I wish I could.

- Then go see what's-his-name, Savage?

And sit where all

the jealous husbands sit?

Do you think they have

a waiting room, Bendrix...

where we see each other's faces

as we pass through?

Why not let me go, Henry?

- You?

- Yes.

I could pretend

to be a jealous lover.

Jealous lovers are less ridiculous

than jealous husbands.

They're supported

by the weight of literature.

Tragic, never comic.

Think ofTroilus.

Well, I shan't lose my amour propre

when I interview Mr. Savage.

This is ridiculous.

One can't spy on one's wife

through a friend...

and have the friend

pretend to be her lover.

- What else are friends for?

- You're a good chap, Bendrix.

All I needed was to talk,

clear my head.

The name was Savage,

and the address was 3 Vigo Passage.

Forget what I've told you.

Doesn't make sense. I'll see a doctor.

That was the door.

Sarah's come in.

It's the maid.

She's been to the pictures.

No, it was Sarah's step.

Sarah, darling.

Henry.

- You... Is that you?

- Been out for a walk?

- Yes.

- It's a filthy night.

You're wet through, Sarah.

One day you'll catch your death of cold.

Good night.

Their marriage was conventional...

like their well-appointed house.

And I liked them both

the first night we met...

drinking bad South African sherry

because of the war in Spain.

Good evening, sir.

- May I take your hat?

- Thank you.

Mr. Miles is upstairs.

Sherry, sir?

Thank you.

She seemed restless.

In the summer of 1939...

the whole of London was restless

in the face of the coming storm.

How nice of you to come.

Sarah, this is our neighbor,

the novelist chap.

What on earth

is a novelist doing here?

- Research.

- On what?

On your husband.

I'm trying to write a character

who works for the Ministry of Pensions.

I need to find out his habits,

what he drinks before bedtime.

- Cocoa.

- And when.

Unless we're entertaining.

Would you be so kind

as to excuse your character?

- The ministry needs him.

- Unfortunately it does.

- So tell me.

- What?

- His secrets.

- Henry's a good man.

- Good men have no secrets.

- I was afraid you'd say that.

You see, goodness

has so little fictional value.

What does have fictional value?

- A minister of Home Security.

- Are you saying my husband is fiction?

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