Deleted Scene: Excuse me Love.


You don’t think you could help me turn this corner could you?

It’s a lady, I think she’s early sixtiess, lifting her hand out Wanting to turn a corner onto the hill.
she’s srhunken with age
wearing a dark red dress
and a leopard print fur coat.
with long brown hair
looking like a bag of wires
squish.
I hold it and it’s shaking
Hulk Hogan style
generating energy to do the impossible 

Where are you off to?
Just want to turn this corner here I hold her hand and she leans on it 

she’s like a former film star or something. The “or something”
a good eighty percent of it. 

Thank you love. I’ll get down this hill now. 

The hill. Is huge.
It’s Dartmouth Park Hill. The wind tunnel.
The worst place to be alone. 

You sure you don’t want me to walk you down the hill? 
She keeps her view down 

no, don’t worry yourself love 

It’s fine, really, I’m going down that way
she looks up at me again 

If that would be alright? 

yeah- sure, come
we start walking down the hill. Each step for her is an effort,
Wading through a smog of memories.

We get closer, and closer to him.
He carries negligence in his scent 
the stink that turns a hug into a spud
the smell of an uncle in name and not blood
An exclamation point of sadness. 

I keep my head as low as I can. 

We’re right behind him
he doesn’t notice us, still smoking I want to be angry at him
But the anger isn’t there. Excuse me.
His body jolts in reaction,
His mind must’ve drifted. Know the feeling.

his cheap tracksuit swishes with his movements
In the corner of my eye I see he reaches for a crutch leans on it and uses it to step back. As we walk past he lets out a quiet sorry
In a Spanish accent I forgot he had. 

he disappears into insignificance
and I feel the squishing in my converse again. 

she talks to me about how she’s recently been released from hospital she makes it clear there’s nothing wrong with her. She’s not,

you know. The woman next to her though-

wouldn’t stop crying. Cried all night What was I to do?
Who am I to complain she’s obviously, you know.

She says that they moved her, but her neighbour the next night

she was so angry, she wouldn’t stop swearing
young girl, so angry! Poor woman. Poor thing.


I say, you’re alright though? 

Oh, I’m fine

She tells me that her neighbours daughter is going to help her with walking again very very very very very mild yoga. It’s good.
She says that she’s lived her her whole life.
She says that there’s a neighbour who’ll usually give her a lift up and down this hill and his family will often buy her week’s shopping.
Every other step she makes though, she says
I fucking hate this place

We get to the bottom of the hill and she directs us to the off license The husband and wife-
both greet her, Michelle,
the husband walks straight to the fosters and put them in a bag for her she takes a tenner out her purse
the woman takes it and asks how she’s doing today Michelle, weighing up her week, concludes with-
well, you know
the woman at the counter gives a sympathetic nod
then eyes me with suspicion. 

Michelle and I walk out of the shop and I ask her what she’s going to do now. She takes me to a nearby bench. 

You’ll be alright here?
Yeah! I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me love. I’ll find someone to talk to, you go out, you you enjoy your evening love.
I’ll be fine. 

She’s still holding on to my hand. Michelle, Let’s get you home. 

She looks up at me, again, wincing like she doesn’t know what she’s doing.
Well, if that would be alright? 

Back of the Head With a Brick First draft.

An old draft, from Kilburn, late 2016 x