The police photographer is just leaving. Peggy Ramsay comes up the stairs, carrying her coat. She waits outside. Then turns round and goes in backwards. The Constable is there. We see his face as he lifts the blanket, watching Peggy as she turns round and looks at what is underneath the blanket. She sits down on the same chair he had earlier sat on, with his helmet beside her. She looks, sees the spot of blood and sees it is the diary.

PEGGY   You don’t look well. They have some brandy in the kitchen.
The Constable goes out of the room. She slips the diary from under the helmet, puts it under her coat and leaves.

CONSTABLE   (voice-over, from kitchen) Where?
He comes back into the room and she has gone. Cut to Peggy passing door of Sugdens’ flat. The Inspector is on the phone.

INSPECTOR   One of them writes, apparently.

MRS SUGDEN   (to Mr Sugden) Tell him. Plays. He writes plays.
Mr Sugden doesn’t. Mrs Sugden hands the Inspector a fancy.
He’s had his dinner at the Savoy.

INSPECTOR   Don’t know what the other one does. Hammers people’s brains out, but that’s in his spare time.
Peggy goes on out of the house, with the diary. Fade to black.

INT. PEGGY RAMSAY’S OUTER OFFICE. DAY. THE PRESENT.

The door is open to the inner office. Peggy and Lahr are in the outer office. A secretary is typing.

PEGGY   I won’t keep you a moment.

INT. PEGGY RAMSAY’S INNER OFFICE. DAY. THE PRESENT.

Peggy takes the diary out of a dusty envelope, tied up with one or two exercise books. She brushes the spot of dried blood on the cover with her finger. She walks to the bookshelves, and places the diary on them.

Lahr gets up. Approaches Peggy.

PEGGY   (at the door of her office) I can’t find his diaries.

LAHR   Can’t find them! (He goes into her office.)

PEGGY   It is twenty years ago.

LAHR   But they’d be so valuable.

PEGGY   Yes. I don’t like to think what they’d be worth.

LAHR   For a biographer!

PEGGY   Tessa’s so disorganised.
As the door closes we catch an injured look from Tessa.
Lahr puts the tape recorder down ready to start.

PEGGY   Oh dear.

LAHR   Don’t worry.

PEGGY   I can’t stand those things. Every little word. One can’t possibly be natural. (Pause.) Is it on?
He nods.
I knew nothing about him when he first walked in. When?
My God … 1964! He had considerable confidence and charm.
It was his first play. Some radio thing. I thought it was derivative.
I told him so. He didn’t mind.

INT. LAHR’S FLAT. DAY. THE PRESENT.

As Peggy speaks we cut to Anthea Lahr, transcribing Peggy’s voice from the tape recorder and typing it out.