Of course. Here is a lengthy, dialogue-heavy script based on the scene and characters you have provided, expanded to create a fuller picture of the family dynamic on this solemn morning.
Title: The Lemon Curd
Date: 17th February 1960
Setting: The living room of Number 8 Masefield Avenue, Windermere. The room is modest but tidy, furnished with dark, solid post-war utility furniture. A coal fire sputters in the grate. The air is thick with the smell of floor polish and brewing tension.
Characters:
REGGIE MATTHEWS (30): Head of the household. A proud, short-tempered man nursing a pint-sized ego and a larger-sized resentment. Wears his best, slightly-too-tight suit.
CINDY MATTHEWS (29): His wife. Pragmatic and sharp, the calm centre of the family storm. She smooths over conflicts she knows she cannot solve. Dressed in a simple, dark dress.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS (13): Their eldest son. Cynical beyond his years, with a new-found adolescent confidence to challenge his father.
BRADLEY MATTHEWS (11): The younger son. Quieter, more observant, and often caught in the crossfire.
BART MATTHEWS (28): Reggie's younger brother. More romantic and easy-going than Reggie, but with a temper of his own when pushed.
ISOBEL DAVISON (27): Bart's girlfriend. A kind, intelligent woman from the South, still viewed as something of an outsider.
(THE SCENE OPENS)
The living room of Number 8 Masefield Avenue. CINDY is dabbing a damp cloth on a smudge on BRADLEY's cheek. BRADLEY, looking miserable in a grey suit jacket, fidgets. REGGIE is staring at ARCHIE, who is wrestling with his clip-on tie.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
Straighten your tie, Archibald. You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
It keeps going wonky. And I didn't even know the bloke, Dad. I don't want to go to his funeral. He always smelled of stale beer and mothballs.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Voice dangerously low)
You will show some respect for the dead. Jay Shakespeare was a friend of this family. He put food on this table.
CINDY MATTHEWS
(Without looking up from Bradley)
He put ale in your hand, Reggie. There's a difference. And to be fair, love, Jay was a heavy alcoholic and did use cocaine frequently. He wasn't a saint.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
Poppycock. The cocaine was only for medicinal purposes. For his nerves. The man had terrible nerves.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
That's what they all say. The only reason you're going is because he kept you in beer, buying your friendship. Everyone at school knows. They call him your 'benefactor'.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Takes a step towards Archie, pointing a thick finger)
Do you want the belt? Because I'm this close to giving you a good hiding that'll knock the cheek clean out of you. This close to smacking six shades into you.
BRADLEY MATTHEWS
Dad, my shoes are pinching.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
Then they're pinching! We haven't got all day. It's a funeral, not a fête. You're not meant to be comfortable.
The front door opens and closes. BART MATTHEWS and his girlfriend, ISOBEL DAVISON, enter the living room. Bart is dapper in his suit; Isobel looks elegant and sombre in a dark coat and hat.
BART MATTHEWS
Oh, don't be rotten, Reginald. God knows there's a lot of pessimism in the world as it is without you contributing. Morning, Cindy. You look lovely. Boys.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(Smiling weakly at the tense atmosphere)
Are we too early? Hello, all. Does anybody actually care about Jay Shakespeare? I mean, really? I hardly knew him, just to say hello to in the street.
BART MATTHEWS
He was a local character, Izzy. A rogue. Known in his early life for looting heavily during the war. Used to have half of everyone's rations, and you think you had it rough in Maidstone. My old boss at the garage said Jay could charm the sugar out of a cup of tea.
ISOBEL DAVISON
I didn't get to live in Maidstone long. Funnily enough, I was sent to Windermere as an evacuee and just… stayed up here after the war. It felt more like home than Kent ever did. Anyway, none of you talks about your family's history; you came up to live here, didn't you? From down south?
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Stiffly)
We came from Oldham. And we only left because I had made a few enemies. It was a business decision.
CINDY MATTHEWS
(A wry smile playing on her lips)
Mainly my dad. He said he'd see you in Strangeways prison if you ever showed your face in Lancashire again.
BART MATTHEWS
(Looking keenly at his brother)
Something you're not saying, Reggie. It wasn't just Cindy's father, was it? There was that business with the ledgers at the mill…
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Snapping)
That's enough of that. Ancient history.
CINDY MATTHEWS
Still, Reggie will go bankrupt now Jay's gone. He'll have to buy his own ale from his own wages. Imagine that.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
Unfair allegations, the lot of them. Anyway, your betrothed is a Conservative voter, and we can't be having that in this house. Bad influence on the boys.
BART MATTHEWS
(His good humour finally cracking)
Listen, you good-for-nothing stain on society. She may vote for a different political party than you, but I love her. And don't you go getting on your high horse about influence. You didn't keep to the Ten Commandments. After all, how were Archie and Bradley born? Weren't they brought by the stork? So shut it before I shut it for ya.
An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. Isobel fiddles with her shoe.
ISOBEL DAVISON
My shoe feels loose. I think the lace has snapped. Bother.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(With a lewd wink at Cindy)
If that isn't a euphemism for taking her to bed, then I don't know what is.
BART MATTHEWS
(Ignoring him, his eyes only for Isobel)
Your shoelace has come off; how long till the funeral?
CINDY MATTHEWS
About forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for a bit more bickering if you're all up to it.
BART MATTHEWS
(A triumphant smile returns)
I'm glad I keep spare shoelaces on my person. Bart Matthews. Is there anything he can't do?
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Quietly, but with pure venom)
Father a child.
The words land like stones. Bart freezes, his hand halfway to his pocket. The smile vanishes from his face. He looks at Reggie with a flicker of raw hatred. Isobel steps forward, putting a gentle hand on Bart's arm.
ISOBEL DAVISON
Should I take my shoe off, darling?
BART MATTHEWS
(Shakes his head, his voice strained. He forces himself to look at her, to focus.)
No. No, for two reasons: one, to focus on your beautiful legs and two, to make sure they fit properly when I'm done.
He kneels, taking his time. He carefully unlaces the broken remnants and threads a new lace from a small paper packet he produces from his coat pocket.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
(Watching, genuinely intrigued)
I never pictured you as that sort of romantic type, Uncle Bart.
BART MATTHEWS
(Tugging the new lace tight, his composure returning)
Come on, Archie, a woman with hair so beautiful and skin so soft with a personality like a hot summer day only comes along once in one's lifetime. You have to treasure it. You can't let… bitterness… spoil it.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Changing the subject, sensing he went too far)
Is Tom Bradshaw going to the funeral?
BART MATTHEWS
(Stands up, dusting his knees)
Yes, though, I don't think he cared much about Jay. Apparently, before I worked there, Jay was a partner in the garage. Bradshaw bought him out for a song after Jay got caught fiddling the accounts. That's the story I heard, anyway. Jay always said Bradshaw had sticky fingers. Said he could peel an orange in his pocket.
ISOBEL DAVISON
That's not quite right. Jay didn't die just of alcohol poisoning. He was in the hospital for liver failure weeks before. I saw him. Popped in on my way back from the library. We had a chat. He was… lucid. Sad. He gave me a ring he was saving for his daughter's wedding day. Asked me to see that she gets it.
Cindy stops her tidying and looks at Isobel, her expression softening.
CINDY MATTHEWS
His Sarah? Oh, the poor man. She's in Australia, isn't she? That's a lovely thing you did, Isobel. I've made some lemon curd if anyone wants any later. After all this.
ARCHIE MATTHEWS
No thanks, Mum. It's too sharp.
BART MATTHEWS
(To Isobel, gently touching her shoe)
Now, does that feel better?
ISOBEL DAVISON
Like a glove. Thank you, my love. Might I ask what we are doing tomorrow, seeing as it's my birthday?
BART MATTHEWS
(His eyes sparkle with a secret)
It's a very special day, Isobel. I've booked a table at the Sharrow Bay. Something I want to live in our memories for years and years.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Under his breath)
Give me a sick bag.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(Her eyes wide with hope)
Is it… Bart, is it an engagement ring?
BART MATTHEWS
(He kisses her gloved hand)
You won't be disappointed.
CINDY MATTHEWS
(Clapping her hands together, breaking the spell)
Right. That's enough chatter. Coats on, the lot of you. We'll be late and Mrs Henderson will give us daggers from across the aisle. Archie, for the last time, fix that tie. Bradley, stop scuffing your shoes. Reggie… try and look like you're mourning a friend, not a free bar tab.
The front door of Number 8 closes with a sharp click. The Matthews family spills out onto the pavement. REGGIE strides ahead, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against a chill that is more than just the weather. CINDY follows, fussing with her gloves and trying to herd the boys.
CINDY MATTHEWS
Archie, walk properly. Bradley, for heaven's sake, don't kick that stone, you'll scuff the toes of your good shoes.
ARCHIE and BRADLEY trail behind her, heads down, united in their misery. BART and ISOBEL emerge last, naturally falling into step a few paces behind the main group. Bart immediately takes Isobel's gloved hand, lacing his fingers through hers.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(Speaking softly, for his ears only)
Thank you for that, in there. With the shoelace. And with… your brother. He can be such a rotter sometimes.
BART MATTHEWS
(Squeezing her hand)
He's all bark, Izzy. All mouth and trousers. Don't you mind him. He's just jealous that I have the prettiest girl in the Lake District on my arm.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(A genuine smile lights up her face, a stark contrast to the grim procession ahead)
You're a terrible fibber, Bart Matthews. But I do appreciate it. I'm still thinking about tomorrow, you know. The Sharrow Bay… it's ever so posh.
BART MATTHEWS
Only the best for my girl on her birthday. It's just the start, you know.
ISOBEL DAVISON
The start of what? Oh, don't tease me. Is it a new handbag? I saw a lovely one in the window at Rackhams.
BART MATTHEWS
Better than a handbag. Much better. Something a bit more… sunny.
ISOBEL DAVISON
Sunny? Goodness, you've not bought me a sunlamp, have you? Mrs Higgins next door has one, she says it's done wonders for her humours.
BART MATTHEWS
(He chuckles, full of his secret)
Not a lamp, no. More the real thing. I just hope the travel agent got the hotel right, the brochure looked first-class. You'll need a proper sun hat, you know. And some of that sun cream. It gets awfully hot on the Costa del Sol.
He stops. His eyes widen as he realises what he's just said.
BART MATTHEWS
(CONT'D)
Blast. Oh, blast it all. That wasn't supposed to come out until tomorrow night, over the trifle.
Isobel has stopped walking completely. She turns to face him, her mouth slightly agape. The funeral, her brother-in-law's temper, the grey Windermere street—it all melts away.
ISOBEL DAVISON
Spain? Bart… are you serious? Spain? People don't just… go to Spain. That's for film stars. Blimey. I've never even been on an aeroplane.
BART MATTHEWS
(His disappointment at ruining the surprise is replaced by the joy of seeing her reaction)
Well, you will be. Two weeks, this August. Just you and me. Sunshine, sand, a bit of that Sangria stuff. A proper holiday. That's the other surprise.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(Overwhelmed, she tightens her grip on his hand)
Oh, Bart. A holiday is wonderful, it's more than I could ever dream of, but it's not the surprise. Not the real one.
She pulls him a little closer, lowering her voice to an intimate whisper. Up ahead, Reggie has stopped and is looking back impatiently.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(CONT'D)
When I first came up here during the war, just a scabby-kneed kid from Kent, I felt so lost. This place, these fells… they felt like the moon. And after the war, I stayed. And I got my nursing qualification at the Infirmary in Carlisle, and I made a life. I thought I was happy.
BART MATTHEWS
(His expression is soft, all traces of the earlier bravado gone)
Weren't you?
ISOBEL DAVISON
I was content. But I wasn't truly happy until I met you. You walked into my ward with that gash on your head from a carburettor… covered in grease and complaining about the tea, and that was it. I knew. I love this life, Bart. I love being a nurse. I even love this dreary northern rain sometimes. But none of it would mean a thing without you. I love you so much, Bart Matthews. And being your wife… that's the only future I've ever really wanted.
Tears well in her eyes. Bart's face is a picture of adoration. He leans in as if to kiss her, the world shrinking to just the two of them on a grey pavement.
REGGIE MATTHEWS
(Bellowing from fifty yards up the road)
Are you two lovebirds coming or do you need a map? People are dying to get this over with! Move your blessed feet!
The bubble bursts. Bart sighs, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he smooths it over for Isobel's sake.
BART MATTHEWS
(Smiling gently at her)
Come on, my love. Duty calls. We can't keep the dearly departed waiting.
He gives her hand a final, firm squeeze. She dabs at her eye with a gloved finger, careful not to smudge her makeup. As they start walking again, a little faster this time to catch up, she leans her head on his shoulder for just a second.
ISOBEL DAVISON
(Whispering, like a secret prayer)
Spain. I love you Bart Matthews.
BART MATTHEWS:
Anything for you.