A bird sleeps at midnight: A radio drama

INT. ART GALLERY. DAY

(Footsteps can be heard walking down a long, echoey corridor
before they pause. They are fallowed by the scratching of a
pencil on a notepad. The footsteps begin again)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Art had been a persistent passion
of mine for most of my life, so
much so that I had relished the
opportunity to pursue it at every
turn. I was, however, quite
unspectacular when it came to
producing art, in fact i was rather
appalling. So I swiftly curbed my
interests to something for which my
particular talents were more
suited, art history and criticism.
(Another set of footsteps join Thomas from further afield
and they slowly increase in volume until both are the same
then both stop. There is a moment of silence filled with the
ticking of a pocket watch)
PHILIP DEAN
Wonderful isnt it. You can really
see the chemistry between the
artist and his model.
(Shuffling)
PHILIP DEAN
Its visible in every line, the
brushstrokes.
THOMAS ELIE
Where they sweethearts?

PHILIP DEAN
No. Brother and sister actually.
Theres a warmth in the painting
that only siblings can summon,
dont you think?

THOMAS ELIE
(Smirking) Clearly you were an only
child.
(Philip chuckles and there is a jingle of chains as the two
men shake hands)

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 2.

PHILIP DEAN
Philip Dean, gallery curator.

THOMAS ELIE
Tom Elie, art critic and historian.
PHILIP DEAN
Pleased to meet you.

THOMAS ELIE
A pleasure.
PHILIP DEAN
I presume youre here about the
Wiltshire piece?

THOMAS ELIE
Yes, Im actually writing a book
about Wiltshire, or Im supposed to
be but Im struggling to find much
information on the man. Im afraid
thats the issue with artists who
are still alive, its very impolite
to go through their letters and
diaries.
PHILIP DEAN
Well youre in luck, were planning
an exhibition of his work this May.
(The footsteps begin again)

PHILIP DEAN
(Quieter, as if walking away)Come,
Ill show you the piece we
purchased.
INT. ART GALLERY SIDE ROOM. MID-DAY

(The sound of birds can be heard from the side room. the
door closes as the two enter)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
And that was how I ended up stood
in front of the most extraordinary
painting, a surreal blur of birds
and a woman splayed across a
canvas. The small metal plaque at
the side read Adam Wiltshire, "A
bird Sleeps at midnight", Acrylic
on canvas, 2012.
(The sound as Thomas pulls out his notepad and begins to
take notes)

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 3.

THOMAS ELIE
Its something really quite
remarkable.

(He scribbles more notes in the pad, including the name of

the piece).
THOMAS ELIE
Wherever did you acquire it?

PHILIP DEAN
From the man himself actually, a
friend of mine knew his mother. It
was quite a stroke of luck. I even
managed to meet him in person.

THOMAS ELIE
What was he like?
PHILIP DEAN
He was... younger than I expected.
Like all geniuses he was an odd
fellow, difficult to understand but
profound, very profound. And
completely indifferent to his
success, he seems almost at odds
with it.

THOMAS ELIE
Say, Mr. Dean, do you think that
there is any possibility that you
could put me in contact with this
friend of yours, the one that knew
his mother?
INT, APARTMENT BUILDING STAIRWELL, DAY
(Two men can be heard climbing a flight of creaky stairs.
Faint classical music can be heard from behind the door once
they reach the top)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Mr. Warden was an old friend of
Adam Wiltshire who had kindly
offered to accompany me to see him.
(Mr. Warden knocks loudly on the door and a dog barks
hysterically within. There is no reply)
MR.WARDEN
(Sighs) Adam? I do apologies mister
Elie, perhaps he didnt hear us.
The door is open though, he wont
mind.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 4.

(Mr. Warden pushes open the door and the music grows louder)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
The moment the door was open I was
almost hit in the head by a low
flying tennis ball being pursued
intently by a very small and very
old jack russel terrier.
THOMAS ELIE
Wha...! (As he ducks out the way)

(The dog barks and there is a sound as the ball rolls down
the stairs, pursued by the dog)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Luckily I managed to duck out the
way just in time, following Mr.
Warden into the dark apartment
where I stepped almost immediately
into a puddle of sky blue paint,
tiptoeing around discarded
paintbrushes.

MR.WARDEN
Adam?
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
The small dog weaved between us and
into a side room, the room from
which the music, and a quiet
rustling, could be head.
(Quiet rustling from another room)

MR.WARDEN
Adam, where are you? You have a
guest... Hes an art historian.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
(From the room) Could you not have
asked permission to bring a guest
here?
MR. WARDEN
Would you have allowed me to if I
had asked?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
(From the room) ... No.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 5.

MR. WARDEN
Well there you are then. This
delightful young art critic here
would very much like to speak to
you and you must talk to people
sometimes Adam.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
With that Mr. Warden marched into
the dark studio and tore open the
curtains to reveal a cluttered
studio and the young artist sulking
in the corner.
MR. WARDEN
You can not simply lock yourself
away in your studio for days on end
like a friendless lunatic.
(There is a noise as Mr. Warden pulls the needle off the
record player and the music stops)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
I stepped into the studio to survey
the scene. Half finished canvases
leaned against every wall, the
floor was littered with pages of
crumpled sketches and crusty old
paintbrushes and in the corner, in
a large chesterfield armchair sat
Adam Wiltshire, a slim man of
twenty six with bespectacled green
eyes and a mess of brown hair.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Ugh...
MR. WARDEN
Adam, you are far too old and far
too rich to be living in squalor,
youre not nineteen anymore.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Mr. Warden begins to stack up the
plates and tea-stained mugs that
litter the desk.

(The clinking of cups and plates)

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Did you come only to insult my
housekeeping.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 6.

MR. WARDEN
You already know why Im here,
Adam.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Mr.Warden examined the young
artist.
MR. WARDEN
Have you been eating well?

ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Annoyed)... Yes.
MR. WARDEN
Have you been bathing?

ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Angry) Jesus! Of course I have!
You dont need to babysit me.
MR. WARDEN
Im your uncle. I promised your
mother I would take care of you if
you moved here and your mother
frightens me.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
My mother frightened everyone, its
hardly an excuse.
MR. WARDEN
I just wanted to ensure you were
alright, I have to go to work now
but you must call me later.
Promise?
(A short silence filled with the buzzing of flies)
MR. WARDEN
(Warning tone) Adam... Promise me
youll call?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Fine.

MR. WARDEN
Ill talk to you later.
(The sound of footsteps and a door closing as Mr. Warden
leaves)

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 7.

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

I was finally alone with Adam
Wiltshire.

(There is a long silence filled only by the buzzing of

flies)
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Well... I suppose I should put the
kettle on.
(The sound of a whistling kettle and tea being poured into
cups, the clinking of teaspoons etc.)
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Im sorry, Im not very good at
making tea. I hope its okay.
(The sound of tea being sipped)
THOMAS ELIE
Its good.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
That was a lie. It was not good. It
was the most pathetically anaemic
cup of tea I had ever tasted but I
was too polite to complain.
(Sound of a chair being pulled out followed by silence
broken by the ticking of a clock)
ADAM WILTSHIRE
So youre an art historian?
THOMAS ELIE
And a critic and biographer.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
A critic? Oh dear, youre probably
hear to slate my brushwork.
THOMAS ELIE
Quite the opposite actually, I
would like to congratulate you. Im
rather a fan actually. Im actually
here in the hopes of asking you a
few questions.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Well as long as you dont want to
want to know about my childhood or
my sex life then my all means ask
away.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 8.

THOMAS ELIE
(Clears throat) Well actually...
Im supposed to be writing a book
about you and theres not much
information about you in
circulation. Youre somewhat of an
enigma.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Chuckles) If I wanted to tell a
stranger about my childhood Id go
see a psychiatrist.
THOMAS ELIE
You can pretend Im a psychiatrist
if youd like, although I cant
prescribe anything.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Snorts)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Adam looked at the floor where he
had shuffled his feet out his
slippers and winced.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Do we have to do this here and now?

THOMAS ELIE
The parts about your life? No, you
could just tell me about your art.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Adam grinned at this and stood.
(The sound of a chair being pulled out as Adam stands)
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Well youve seen my studio, you can
take a closer look if youd like.
INT. COFFEE SHOP. DAY
(The sound of traffic outside slowly fades into the sounds
of quiet chatter and clinking cups etc.)

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

It took me just under a week to
coax Adam out of his house with the
promise of a decent cup of coffee.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 9.

THOMAS ELIE
So youre a coffee drinker huh?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Yeah, I guess. Never really was a
tea drinker. Say, can I ask you a
question?
THOMAS ELIE
Of course.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Why take a half-hour taxi ride from
the east end to bloomsbury just to
get a cup of coffee.
THOMAS ELIE
I live in Bloomsbury. Im rather
loyal to this coffee shop. Also
getting you to leave the house is
more of an achievement if I get you
to leave Stepney.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
But I like Stepney. You could
spontaneously combust in the middle
of the street and no one would even
pause to stare.

THOMAS ELIE
What a charming neighbourhood trait
(Sarcastic).
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Im rather abnormal in what I
desire in a home you see, I find
comfort in the anonymity of a loud
and transient mass. The noise of
the city soothes my soul somewhat
and I scarce find time to worry
myself among the constant disquiet.
THOMAS ELIE
Youre an odd man.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Well so are you.
THOMAS ELIE
You still havent told me about
your childhood?

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 10.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Ive been deliberately avoiding the
subject actually.
THOMAS ELIE
What if I told you something
embarrassing about myself first?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Depends on the embarrassing thing.

THOMAS ELIE
Im scared of geese.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
So is everyone, geese are
terrifying.

THOMAS ELIE
Adam... (Long pause). Please. You
know you can trust me, weve grown
to be friends over this last week.

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

Adam paused and frowned before
releasing a long, low sigh and
glancing out the window.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Sighing then speaking fast)Fine, I
was born in manchester, my parents
divorced when I was nine, working
class family, only child. It really
isnt all that interesting.

THOMAS ELIE
Wait, wait! Slow down. Start at the
beginning.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Adam rolled his eyes so hard Im
almost sure I could hear it but
then a sombre air came over him and
he slouched down his chair and
cradled his coffee in his hands to
warm himself as if chilled to the
bone by cold, cold memories.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
I lost my mother you know, a few
years back. She never got over
father leaving us like that.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 11.

THOMAS ELIE
Why did your father leave?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Mother stabbed him in the eye with
a stiletto.
THOMAS ELIE
(Shocked) A stiletto? Where the
hell did she get a dagger from?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Smirking) Not a dagger, a shoe.
They used to argue a lot,
viciously, especially when my
father was drunk or mother was
having an episode and she stabbed
him in the eye with the heel of a
stiletto shoe. It went right
through his eye pupil and his eye
popped right out of its socket.
Mother laughed. There was blood
everywhere.
THOMAS ELIE
You... you actually witnessed this?

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

Adam shrugged and a silence fell
over him as I came to the
realisation as to why he had been
reluctant to talk about his
childhood.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
So yeah, father took off and left
me with my mother. I was nine.
Dropped out of school at fifteen to
get a job because we ran into
financial trouble. Worked at a
kebab shop. Thats when I took up
art.
THOMAS ELIE
So you never went to art college or
had any training?
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Adam shook his head and just a
shadow of a blush crept over his
cheeks. So he sipped his coffee
(Slurp) and stood to leave (Chair
screech).

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 12.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
I should go home, it was nice to
see you again. I just have a lot of
work to do.

(The sound of footsteps followed by the ringing of a shop

door bell and the sound of heavy rain).
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
As he stepped out into the London
rain and opened his black umbrella
the grace and melancholy of his
movements were overwhelming and I
became determined to unlock the
rest of the enigma that was the
strange artist Adam Wiltshire. I
had not noticed until it came time
to watch him leave.
(The sound of heavy rain slowly dies and becomes the sound
of a ticking clock).

INT. ADAMS APPARTMENT. EVENING

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
I suppose the thing about sadness
is that it is silent. Ever so
silent. Even the disquiet of
despair is so easily lost in the
noise of living, like the steady
ticking of a clock it becomes but a
low drone in the background. It is
scarce heard and even scarcer seen,
and even then was hard to recognise
for a man like me who had suffered
very little in his life. When I
next found Adam he was sat blankly
in the leather chair that nestled
in the corner of his studio as he
often did in the afternoons and
evenings when I visited him. His
eyes were blank and his hands were
steepled listlessly beneath his
stubbled chin and it was then I
noticed the faint streak of a tear
marking his cheek as he watched the
rain beat down against the wilting
flowers in his window-box. The
shrivelled petals mottled under the
force of the cold rain. He turned
to me a few short moments after he
noticed me come in and his face
twisted into a smile.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 13.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Oh, hello Thomas. I wasnt
expecting you. The house is a mess.
(The buzzing of a fly).

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Im kind of a mess too. (Sniffling)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
When he cried it was not loud and
ballistic like in all the films Id
seen, he didnt blubber and bawl or
even whimper. He just sobbed
quietly, silently even and stared
back out the window. I was thirst
six years old, and this was the
first time I had ever seen a man
cry. I took his hand and reached
for a tissue.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Sniffle) I apologies for this,
Tom. This is... unflattering.
THOMAS ELIE
Nothing about an artist is ever
flattering Adam. Its okay, here,
blow.

(The sound of Adam blowing his nose).

ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Congested)Ugh...

THOMAS ELIE
How about I make us a cup of tea
and we can have a chat.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Okay. But Its only fair that I
make you tea. You are the guest
after all.
(Kettle and tea making sounds).

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

Seated at the table opposite Adam I
couldnt help wondering how many
seemingly genuine smiles were
false. His face had softened now
and he looked more fed up than
upset.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 14.

(Adam sighs).
ADAM WILTSHIRE
I suppose this is the part where I
say Im not okay.

(Tea being sipped).

THOMAS ELIE
Its a perfectly reasonable thing
to say.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Im not too well at the moment.
THOMAS ELIE
Have you been to see a doctor?

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Not yet. Not this time. Ive been
taking my medication but Im
worried... (Tearing up) What if it
gets worse?

THOMAS ELIE
Adam, why are you so concerned
about this getting worse?
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Adam sat a moment frowning. He bit
his lip.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Because Im mad.

(A long hesitation)
THOMAS ELIE
Youre not mad Adam.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
He kept his eyes downcast.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
You know I told you that my mother
died... She took her own life. She
died in a mental hospital. In a lot
of ways... Im very like her. I
have the same illness.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
The small dog licked the artists
hand and nudged it.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 15.

(Dog whimper).
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Im getting worse. I cant leave
the house alone any more, Im
hearing voiced, I keep catching
myself vanishing inside my own
mind. Im scared that one of these
day I might not... come back out.

THOMAS ELIE
That wont happen Adam.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Quietly) It happened before.
(Pause) A week after my mother died
I couldnt move. Uncle found me. I
just... couldnt. Its called a
catatonic state. Thomas... Im
scared.

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

I placed a hand on his shoulder.
THOMAS ELIE
I wont let anything bad happen to
you Adam.

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

The artist remained silent a moment
before he threw his arms around me
sobbing.

(Sobbing fades into music)

INT. ART GALLERY. DAY
(The music fades away into the sound of two sets of
footsteps strolling down a echoey hallway)
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Adams progress was slow, but he
did improve with the help of some
revisions to his medication and the
support of myself and his uncle. He
flourished as an artist over the
following months and after a few
weeks of isolation in his studio he
emerged with enough compositions
for a whole new exhibition and I
was delighted to receive an
invitation in the mail.
(The sound of chattering builds as they draw towards a door)

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 16.

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

I accompanied Adam that evening and
was surprised to learn that this
was actually the first time he had
attended such a gathering, least of
all a celebration of his work. I
had forced him into some slightly
more respectable clothing than his
usual pain splattered jeans and
hoodie and had made him brush his
hair.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Do I have to do this Thomas?
Theres a lot of people in there.
We could come back in an hour or so
once a few people have cleared out
and...
THOMAS ELIE
(Interrupting) Adam, theres a lot
of people in there want to meet
you. Im here if you need me, and
we can leave at any time once
youve made an appearance.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Fine. Besides, theres something I
want to show you.

THOMAS ELIE
(Curiously) Oh?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Just come on, I want to get this
whole socialising thing over with
so I can go home and take off this
heathen suit. Besides, Id like a
cup of coffee and I bet they dont
have any.

(The sound of a door opening and the chattering gets louder

as they enter the room. After a moment there is a ringing as
a man taps a champaign glass with a spoon and the chatter
dies down).

PHILIP DEAN
(Clears throat) Good evening ladies
and gentleman and welcome to the
opening of our latest exhibition
where we are proud to display the
work of the prestigious artist Adam
Wiltshire. Now, in a moment Ill
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 17.

PHILIP DEAN (contd)

allow Adam to take the stage but
first I would like to say a few
words.
(Clapping)
PHILIP DEAN
I first met Adam about six months
ago when I purchased a painting of
his, and I was astounded by how
much of a delightful and humble
young man he is. I am delighted to
see such a pleasant individual
achieving such success. So, without
further ado I will hand over the
microphone to the man himself.
(Clapping)
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Hello. (Microphone feedback) When I
began painting I never would have
guessed I would garner such
success. I was surprised to garner
any success at all to be honest.
(Speech fades).

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

Adam gave a wonderful speech, as
eloquent and polite as ever. He
thanked his guests for coming, for
their support and of course for
investing in his paintings. He
carried it off perfectly. But in
the end what he said and how
delightfully he said it didnt
matter at all. Had he stumbled over
his words, or cursed or just been
down right terrible at public
speaking it wouldnt have made a
difference because his charm and
indeed the charm of his art rested
on his enigma, on everything he
chose not to say, every smile and
gesture he chose not to portray. He
gave a wonderful speech but the
entire time he looked completely
lost, or completely absent and
everyone saw it. He stayed to the
end of the gathering and a good
time after staring at his own work
on the walls of the gallery with
his hands buried in his pockets.

(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 18.

(Footsteps in an echoey room grow closer and stop)

ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Sighs) "A bird sleeps at
midnight". I never intended to sell
it you know. But after a while I
grew sick to my stomach of looking
at it. I just wanted to get rid of
it.
THOMAS ELIE
Its very beautiful.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
Adam shook his head.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Its not really. Its ugly...
hideous really.
THOMAS ELIE
Not to pry into your work... but
what does it represent?

ADAM WILTSHIRE
(Sigh) It was the first thing I
painted after my mothers death.
(A moment of silence)

THOMAS ELIE
Is your mother the bird?
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
He smiled.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Shes everything in the picture,
its all her. Its a... last
flourish, a crescendo if you will.
Her death was somewhat of a quiet
ellipsis... This was the mark that
followed.
(Gentle music)

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)

Adam smiled as a quiet tear tumbled
quietly from the corner of his eye.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
I still have something I want to
show you Thomas. Its a painting...
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 19.

ADAM WILTSHIRE (contd)

I did it for you. I thought maybe
you could use it, as your authors
picture, or instead of your authors
picture since it doesnt really
look much like you... you know, for
my biography, or anything else you
happen to write. Of course unless
you dont want to, I understand.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
I smiled as I looked at it, a
wonderful and chaotic mess laid out
across the canvas like a meadow of
coloured blooms. He smiled too, a
bright, broad smile, one I knew was
genuine. For a moment he was elated
in happiness.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Do you like it.
THOMAS ELIE
Its my new favourite painting.
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Its rather large. Do you think it
will fit in your flat?

THOMAS ELIE
...What?
ADAM WILTSHIRE
Well it is yours, a painted it for
you after all.
THOMAS ELIE
Adam... I cant accept this,
its... its too much.

ADAM WILTSHIRE
I insist Thomas... I did it for
you.
(Hesitation)

ADAM WILTSHIRE
Besides, you havent read the
plaque yet, look what its called.
THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION)
My eyes moved down to the golden
Plaque beneath the painting where I
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 20.

THOMAS ELIE (NARRATION) (contd)

read the name of the composition.
"To my friend: Im sorry for all
the bad tea I made you drink".

THE END