View source for Cold from a tin (notated)

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INT. WELL-LIT STUDY – DAY

A plush, pale sofa. Shelves of well-loved books. Cushions everywhere. Afternoon light washes the room in a warm, thoughtful glow.

JOANNA LUMLEY and GYLES BRANDRETH sit side by side. Both are at ease, silent.

A beat.

JOANNA
(softly, to herself, with quiet satisfaction)
I like baked beans cold from a tin.

She gazes forward, centered in the truth of it.
Yes, I do.

Gyles GASPS—sharp and delighted. He pivots suddenly toward her, all energy and eagerness.

GYLES
So do I!
(quick breath)
Genuinely! People think this is ridiculous—

He raises a hand, palm out, in a pleading gesture.

GYLES (CONT’D)
I love baked beans cold from the tin!

JOANNA
(immediately, almost interrupting)
So do I.

Her eyes flick to him. Testing. Measured.

Gyles blinks, thrown.

GYLES
(quickly)
Ummmm… perfect.
(breathes again, recalibrates)
With a fork or a spoon?

JOANNA
Spoon.

Firm. Certain. No question.

GYLES
(inhaling the idea, slow and theatrical)
Spoooon…

A pause.

GYLES (CONT’D)
I prefer a fork.

Joanna’s eyes flicker. The smallest change—almost a flinch.

GYLES (CONT’D)
So you can skewer the last ones—

Joanna looks up, eyes lifting thoughtfully, visualizing.
Skewer them? In a tin?

JOANNA
(interrupting)
Yes, but—
(struggling slightly)
What about the— the…
(beat)
…the tomato-y sauce?

She stares at him. Calm. Incredulous.

Gyles freezes mid-gesture, then laughs.

GYLES
Oh, you’re right.

He lifts his hand again in a loose shrug, laughing at himself now—caught.

Joanna smiles. Just slightly.

Silence settles. Warm. Mutual.

FADE OUT.
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