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turning to page one
Joan comes home to her flat. She looks sad as she puts her key in the lock and opens the door.
She enters to find:
HUNDREDS OF MATHEMATICAL PAPERS ARE SCATTERED ALL OVER HER LIVING ROOM.
She sighs.
JOAN CLARKE
Alan?
At the sound of her voice, Alan comes out of the wash room, wiping the shaving cream from his face. He’s moving and talking a mile a minute.
ALAN TURING
Christopher is simply not moving
fast enough.
JOAN CLARKE
We should talk.
Joan sits down, sadly.
ALAN TURING
(totally oblivious)
Even with the diagonal board he’s
not eliminating settings as quickly
as —
JOAN CLARKE
Alan, I’m leaving.
ALAN TURING
You just walked in.
JOAN CLARKE
No. Bletchley.
ALAN TURING
What?
JOAN CLARKE
It’s my parents... I am twenty-five
and I am unmarried and I am living
alone... And they want me home.
ALAN TURING
That’s ridiculous.
JOAN CLARKE
That’s my parents.
ALAN TURING
You cannot leave. I won’t let you.
JOAN CLARKE
“I’ll miss you.” That’s what a
normal person might say in this
situation.
ALAN TURING
I don’t care what’s normal.
JOAN CLARKE
“I’ll write.” That’d work too.
ALAN TURING
No. This is unacceptable. You are
not leaving and that is that.
JOAN CLARKE
What am I supposed to do, Alan? I
will not give up my parents. The
world is burning to ash and they
are my family and they want me
home.
ALAN TURING
You have the opportunity here to
make some actual use of your life —
JOAN CLARKE
— And end up like you? No thanks.
I’m sorry you’re lonely. I’m sorry
no one likes you.
But Enigma will not save you. Can
you decypher that, you fragile
narcissist? Or do you need me to
fetch your precious Christopher for
help?
Silence.
Alan looks like she just slapped him across the face. Which she basically did.
JOAN CLARKE (CONT’D)
... I’m sorry.
ALAN TURING
I want you to stay because I like
you.
JOAN CLARKE
I know.
ALAN TURING
I like talking to you.
JOAN CLARKE
I like talking to you, too, Alan.
ALAN TURING
What if you weren’t living alone...
If you had a husband?
JOAN CLARKE
You have one in mind?
ALAN TURING
I do.
JOAN CLARKE
Hugh is terribly attractive, I’ll
give you that, but he’s really not
the marrying type.
ALAN TURING
I wasn’t referring to Hugh.
JOAN CLARKE
Peter? He’s so quiet...
Alan stares at Joan. She stares back.
JOAN CLARKE (CONT’D)
(getting it)
Oh dear Lord.
ALAN TURING
This makes sense.
JOAN CLARKE
Did you just propose to me?
ALAN TURING
It’s the logical thing to do.
JOAN CLARKE
This is ridiculous.
ALAN TURING
This is your parents.
JOAN CLARKE
(trying to process)
I cannot believe this is happening.
Alan fishes a piece of ELECTRICAL WIRE from his pocket...
ALAN TURING
Joan Ca... Wait, is your middle
name Caroline or Catherine?
JOAN CLARKE
Elizabeth.
ALAN TURING
Joan Elizabeth Clarke, will you
marry me?
... And then FASHIONS IT INTO A RING.
ON JOAN’S FACE: What’s she going to do?
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