Uncle Victor

1899. The gallery of "Waverly," the Trowell family sugar cane plantation in South Louisiana.

We see old black hands sewing a patch onto a quilt—then the old black Nurse's face. She is humming a spiritual.

Behind her, August Greenhan, a handsome, awkward young Doctor, 29, slumps in a chair, asleep. The old black Nurse stands, walks to Doctor's chair, removes the liquor bottle from the floor beside the doctor, then goes into the house through a side door.

INT. DARK CORRIDOR—CONTINUOUS

An old lady, Mamere, carrying a candle, walks towards us from the dark, looking like a "ghost" in her white nightgown and long uncombed hair.

EXT. GALLERY—CONTINUOUS

The front door opens, then an imperious-but-forgetful matron, Mamere, walks out onto the gallery, using a cane to steady herself, holding a candle . . . talking to the air.

MAMERE: Where's Rosalie, Bertha, Ella?

DOCTOR (wakes): Careful with that candle.

MAMERE: I got to come from way in back of my house. (calls out) James! Andrew! Clifford!

DOCTOR: They're gone, Mrs. Mallory.

MAMERE (paces): Nobody gets the door at my house.

DOCTOR: For God's sake, sit.

MAMERE: Bertha! Verma! Rosalie!

DOCTOR: I'm Dr. Greenan. Augie Greenan.

MAMERE: I can't remember.

DOCTOR: You sent me to medical school . . .

MAMERE: Nobody sweeps the gallery?

DOCTOR (yawning): . . . from spare change in your kitchen tin!

MAMERE: Dust all over the woodwork. Grass overgrown.

DOCTOR: Here, let me help you.

MAMERE: All my lovely statues crushed . . . There's the head of one over there.

DOCTOR: Sit, Mrs. Mallory.

MAMERE: Gates shattered . . . A sundial just disappeared overnight.

DOCTOR: Shouldn't you be asleep?

MAMERE: I can't rest when Waverly is falling apart. Shutters flap. I don't want to tell Mama because . . . I'm not sure if she's alive or dead. (calls out) Mama.

DOCTOR: She's dead.

MAMERE: I thought so. How long?

DOCTOR: Few years after . . . (starts to drink from his glass)

MAMERE: The war. I remember! But where's my daughter?

DOCTOR: Miss Rachelle? She passed.

MAMERE: Her too? You're lying.

DOCTOR: Why would I do that? I'm a doctor . . . I'm too tired.

MAMERE: Because you think I can't take it, but I'm strong as a warrior, you see. I'm a Mallory, and I'll stand tall by Waverly . . . like the front gate.

Nurse comes back onto the gallery.

NURSE: I've such a backache. God. Five-thirty in the morning.

DOCTOR: Hello, nurse.

NURSE: Good morning. (nods to Mamere) What you doing up?

MAMERE: Watching. There's prowlers . . . like termites . . . waiting to eat us. (laughs) Good you don't have a wooden leg.

NURSE: I ain't got time for jokes. I'm tired. You know I can't sleep when I hear you poking about. Come on back to bed.

MAMERE: I'm not sleepy.

NURSE: Not after you got me up. (takes her arm) Look at you. Clothes a mess. Hair in your face. That ain't no way to come outside. My back's so stiff.

MAMERE: Quiet.

Nurse leads Mamere back into the house. Alone, the Doctor drinks. Nurse returns and tries to get the drink from the Doctor.

NURSE: Why you got to come here at dawn? . . . wake the old folks. It's a crying shame. You can't start doctoring with a drink in your hand. How old are you? Twenty something. When you start drinking at twenty, at thirty, you're gone.

DOCTOR: Life stinks!

NURSE: I know you want me to go on to bed, that's what you want. But you ain't going to get that. No sir. No drinking here in the dark. I knew your Mama and Papa before they died, and I sure ain't going to let you sleep with no bottle. I ain't tired now, so I'll set out here and watch you some.