INT. MARTHA LONDON'S FLAT - LIVING ROOM - SAME TIME
A modest ground-floor flat in a terraced building. The windows face the street, and through them we can see the rain creating rivers in the gutters. MARTHA LONDON, hair in curlers, wearing a dressing gown despite the late morning hour, stands pressed against the wall beside the window, peering out through a gap in the curtains. Her hand trembles as she holds the curtain edge.
Across the street, barely visible through the rain, a figure in a dark raincoat stands under a shop awning. HARRY PETERS. He's smoking a cigarette, seemingly just sheltering from the weather, but Martha's face is pale with fear.
MARTHA: (whispering to herself) He's still there. Still watching. Why won't he leave me alone?
She lets the curtain fall and moves quickly to the telephone, picking up the receiver with shaking hands. She dials, each rotation of the dial seeming to take an eternity.
MARTHA: (into phone) Police? Yes, I need to report... there's a man. Outside my flat. He's been watching me. Following me. I think... I think he means to do me harm.
POLICE OPERATOR: (voice crackling through the line) What's your address, madam?
MARTHA: Seventeen Addison Street. Ground floor flat. The man, he's across the road, under the awning of Morrison's shop. He's been there for twenty minutes now, just standing there, staring at my window.
POLICE OPERATOR: Can you describe him, please?
MARTHA: (peering through the curtains again) Dark raincoat, grey hat. Tallish. He's smoking. He... he followed me home from the shops yesterday. And the day before that. And I've seen him on my street at least four times this week. Always watching, always lurking.
POLICE OPERATOR: Has he approached you? Spoken to you? Made any threats?
MARTHA: (frustrated) No, but he doesn't need to! The watching is enough! The constant presence! Everywhere I go, there he is! I'm frightened to leave my own home!
POLICE OPERATOR: I understand your concern, madam. We'll send someone round when we can, but with this weather we're dealing with multiple emergencies—flooding, accidents, downed power lines. If the man hasn't actually done anything—
MARTHA: (voice rising) If he hasn't done anything? He's terrorizing me! That's doing something!
POLICE OPERATOR: Has he ever been on your property? Tried your door? Looked in your windows?
MARTHA: (faltering) Well... no, not exactly, but—
POLICE OPERATOR: Then I'm afraid there's not much we can do at present. Standing in a public street isn't a crime, madam. If he makes any direct approach, any threat, you call us immediately. But for now, keep your doors locked and—
MARTHA: (shouting) Keep my doors locked? That's your advice? I tell you I'm being stalked and you tell me to lock my doors?
POLICE OPERATOR: (patiently) We'll send someone round when we have an officer available. That's the best I can offer you this morning, madam. Is there anything else?
MARTHA: (bitterly) No. No, there's nothing else.
She slams the phone down and returns to the window. Harry Peters is gone. The shop awning shelters only rain now. Martha stands frozen, unsure whether to feel relieved or more frightened.
MARTHA: (to herself) Where did he go? Where did he—
A knock at the door makes her jump violently. She presses her hand to her chest, breathing hard.
MARTHA: (calling out shakily) Who is it?
VOICE: (from outside) It's Elsie, dear. Elsie Armstrong from next door. I saw the police car pull up yesterday when you called them before. Wanted to check you're all right.
Martha hesitates, then moves to the door, unlocking three separate locks before opening it on the chain. ELSIE ARMSTRONG stands in the hallway, a woman in her fourties with kind eyes and an umbrella dripping water onto the floor.
ELSIE: (peering through the gap) Martha? You look dreadful. Are you ill?
MARTHA: (not opening the door fully) I'm not ill. I'm being followed.
ELSIE: (frowning) Followed? By whom?
MARTHA: A man named Harry Peters. He's been watching me. Everywhere I go, he's there. The shops, the bus stop, my own street. He was standing across the road just now, staring at my window.
ELSIE: (glancing down the hallway) Is he there now?
MARTHA: He's gone. Disappeared. Which is almost worse because now I don't know where he is. He could be anywhere. He could be in the building.
ELSIE: Martha, dear, are you going to let me in? I can't have a proper conversation through a door chain.
Martha hesitates, then slowly closes the door, removes the chain, and opens it fully. Elsie steps inside, shaking water from her umbrella.
ELSIE: (looking around the flat) It's dark as a tomb in here. Why haven't you opened the curtains?
MARTHA: (closing and locking the door behind her) So he can't see in. So he doesn't know if I'm home.
ELSIE: (gently) Martha, sit down. You're working yourself into a state.
MARTHA: (not sitting) I'm already in a state! I've called the police three times this week! Three times! And they won't do anything! They say he hasn't broken any laws, hasn't made any threats, hasn't actually done anything. But I know what he wants. I know what men like that want.
ELSIE: (sitting herself, placing her umbrella carefully beside the chair) Men like what, dear? You said his name is Harry Peters. How do you know him?
MARTHA: (pacing) I don't know him! That's the point! He's a complete stranger who's decided to... to fixate on me! I first noticed him a week ago, standing outside the grocer's when I was shopping. Then I saw him again the next day at the post office. And again on the bus. And again on this street. It's not a coincidence, Elsie. He's following me deliberately.
ELSIE: (carefully) Have you considered that perhaps you're seeing patterns that aren't there? Carlisle isn't such a large city. People cross paths regularly. I see the same faces at the shops all the time.
MARTHA: (stopping her pacing) You think I'm imagining it.
ELSIE: I think you're frightened and alone, and sometimes when we're in that state, we see threats where there might be none.
MARTHA: (angrily) I'm not imagining it! I'm not hysterical! I know what I've seen!
ELSIE: (raising her hands soothingly) All right, all right. I believe you. Tell me about this Harry Peters. What does he look like? What does he do when he sees you?
MARTHA: (sinking into a chair finally) He's tall. Grey hair under his hat. Always wears the same dark raincoat. And he... he doesn't do anything, that's what's so unnerving. He just watches. Sometimes he smiles. This horrible little smile like he knows something I don't.
ELSIE: Has he ever spoken to you?
MARTHA: (quietly) Once. Yesterday. I was coming out of the chemist's and he was right there, so close I nearly walked into him. He tipped his hat and said, "Good morning, Miss London. Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" And he said my name, Elsie. He knows my name.
ELSIE: (frowning) That is odd. How would he know your name?
MARTHA: (voice rising again) I don't know! That's what terrifies me! He knows who I am, where I live, my routines, my schedule. He knows everything about me and I know nothing about him except his name!
ELSIE: How do you know his name?
MARTHA: (hesitating) I... I asked at the shops. After I'd seen him several times. I described him to Mrs. Patterson at the grocer's and she said it sounded like Harry Peters, who lives somewhere over on Warwick Road. She said he's harmless, just a lonely old bachelor, but what does she know? She's not the one being followed.
ELSIE: (thoughtfully) Harry Peters on Warwick Road. I think I know who you mean. Worked at the railway yards until he retired. Lost his wife years ago. No children. Keeps to himself mostly.
MARTHA: (desperately) You see? He's a lonely man with nothing to do but follow women around! He's probably been working up to something for years and now I'm his target!
ELSIE: (sighing) Or he's a lonely man who sees a familiar face around town and tries to be friendly. Martha, has he ever tried to touch you? Tried to follow you into your building? Sent you letters? Made any inappropriate suggestions?
MARTHA: (deflating slightly) No. But—
ELSIE: Then what exactly has he done wrong?
MARTHA: (standing again, agitated) He's frightened me! He's made me feel unsafe in my own neighborhood! Isn't that enough?
ELSIE: (standing as well, voice firmer) Martha London, I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to listen carefully. You're so wrapped up in your own fears, your own concerns, that you're not thinking about anyone else.
MARTHA: (taken aback) What?
ELSIE: This Harry Peters—assuming he's even doing what you think he's doing—is one man in one city. But you've called the police three times this week. Three times. Do you know what else is happening today?
MARTHA: (confused) I don't... what does that have to—
ELSIE: (interrupting) There's a wedding at the registry office this morning. Young Bart Matthews from over on Masefield Avenue. Do you know the Matthews family?
MARTHA: (impatiently) No, I don't know them. What does this have to do with—
ELSIE: (continuing) The bride's parents can't make it because of the flooding. Roads closed. Young woman getting married without her mother and father there. Can you imagine how she must feel?
MARTHA: That's very sad, but—
ELSIE: (over her) And I heard from Mrs. Wilson at the post office that Helen Tate out at Bullfrog Farm just found out she's expecting again, barely four months after having her first. Poor girl's terrified, isolated out there with a new baby and another on the way.
MARTHA: (frustrated) Elsie, I don't see what any of this has to do with me being stalked!
ELSIE: (loudly) Because you're not the only person in the world with problems, Martha! You're not the only one who's frightened or alone or dealing with difficult things! But you're so focused on this man, this Harry Peters who might just be a harmless old soul trying to make conversation, that you can't see past your own front door!
MARTHA: (stung) That's not fair.
ELSIE: (softening slightly) Isn't it? When's the last time you thought about anyone else's troubles? When's the last time you asked me how I'm doing? Did you know my sister's in hospital? Has been for three days. Pneumonia. The doctors aren't sure she'll pull through.
MARTHA: (genuinely surprised) Elsie, I... I didn't know. I'm so sorry.
ELSIE: (sitting back down heavily) Of course you didn't know. Because you're too busy hiding behind these curtains, watching for a man who's probably just lonely and awkward and doesn't know how else to make friends in this city. Meanwhile, real people with real problems are suffering all around you.
Martha stands silent, her earlier agitation draining away into something that looks like shame.
MARTHA: (quietly) You think I'm being selfish.
ELSIE: (looking up at her) I think you're being frightened. And I understand that. I do. After what happened to your cousin last year—
MARTHA: (sharply) Don't.
ELSIE: (gently) We have to talk about it, dear. Your cousin Sarah was attacked. Brutally. And you've never properly dealt with that fear. You've let it grow and fester until every man on the street becomes a potential threat.
MARTHA: (voice shaking) Sarah was just walking home from work. Just walking. And that man... what he did to her...
ELSIE: (standing and moving to Martha) I know. It was horrible. Unthinkable. But Sarah's attacker was caught, Martha. He's in prison. He can't hurt anyone else.
MARTHA: But there are others like him. Everywhere. Waiting. Watching.
ELSIE: (taking Martha's hands) Not everywhere. Not every man is a monster. Some men are just men. Lonely, awkward, harmless men who don't know the right way to be friendly.
MARTHA: (pulling her hands away) How am I supposed to know the difference? How can I tell which ones are safe and which ones are... are...
ELSIE: You can't. Not always. But you can't live your life in fear of every possibility. You'll drive yourself mad.
Martha moves back to the window, peering out through the curtains again. The street is empty except for the rain.
MARTHA: (still looking out) What if you're wrong? What if Harry Peters is dangerous and something happens to me because I listened to you and stopped being careful?
ELSIE: Then I'll never forgive myself. But Martha, what if I'm right? What if you've spent the last week terrorizing a harmless old man? What if he's confused and upset because every time he tries to be friendly, you run away or call the police? Have you thought about that?
MARTHA: (turning to face her) No. I haven't thought about that.
ELSIE: Maybe you should. Maybe instead of calling the police on him, you should try talking to him. Ask him directly what he wants. You might be surprised.
MARTHA: (horrified) Talk to him? Approach him? Are you mad?
ELSIE: (shrugging) I'm suggesting you treat him like a human being instead of a threat. If he really is following you with bad intentions, confronting him in public will likely scare him off. If he's just lonely and trying to make a friend, you'll find out quickly enough.
MARTHA: I can't. I can't just walk up to a strange man and—
ELSIE: (interrupting) Then keep hiding behind your curtains. Keep calling the police and wasting their time while people with real emergencies wait. Keep thinking only about yourself and your fears while the world goes on around you.
The words hang heavy in the air. Martha's face flushes with anger, then crumples.
MARTHA: (sitting down, voice small) You're right. You're right, I'm being selfish. I'm being ridiculous.
ELSIE: (sitting beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders) Not ridiculous. Frightened. There's a difference. But you need to find a way through this fear, Martha. You can't let what happened to Sarah control the rest of your life.
MARTHA: (wiping her eyes) I just want to feel safe again.
ELSIE: I know, dear. I know.
They sit in silence for a moment. The rain continues its assault on the windows. Then Martha speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.
MARTHA: Tell me about your sister. About her pneumonia. Is she responding to treatment?
ELSIE: (surprised, then pleased) The doctors gave her some new antibiotic yesterday. They're hopeful it will help, but at her age... well, these things are unpredictable.
MARTHA: How old is she?
ELSIE: Thirty-two. And she's always been delicate. Never quite recovered from the war years, the rationing and the stress of it all.
MARTHA: I'm sorry I didn't know. I should have noticed you were worried. I've been so caught up in my own...
ELSIE: (patting her hand) You're noticing now. That's what matters.
There's a knock at the door. Both women jump slightly. Martha's face goes white.
MARTHA: (whispering) It's him. It has to be him. He knows I'm home, he's come to—
ELSIE: (firmly) Stop. Stop right now. We don't know who it is.