"GIRL WITH A PEARL EARRING" (2003)

GIRL WITH A PEARL EARRING

A bare white wall. Sunlight falls softly through an open window.

Sounds from outside; water-lap against stone; a woman calls a greeting; wooden clogs on cobbles.

The plaster is roughly finished. There are blue grey shadows, a fuzz of brown dust, pale cream highlights.

Inside the house quiet noises; the swish of a scrubbing brush on stone; a rocking chair creaking to and fro; a knife chopping.

CLOSE ON: A kitchen knife, sharp-edged, pitted black, slices through white-green onion rings, juice flecking the blade. Slivers of onion pile up on a dark wood chopping board, tiny threads of yellow-green in the white. Reflected for a moment before the blade sweeps them away.

A handsome Dutch town house, red-brick, three storeys high.

The front door opens and a MAN and WOMAN come out. His clothes are dark and fine, his face half-hidden by a wide hat. She is ripely pregnant, her belly large against the swathes of her fine velvet dress. She leans on his arm for support, but still leads the way.

CAPTION OVER: DELFT 1664

As they walk through the prosperous town they are greeted and bowed to: people of consequence. He nods, she smiles and waves to acquaintances, blonde curls dancing.

Splitting a red cabbage, exposing the white veins between dark purple leaves. A GIRL'S hand, small and deft, places the cabbage by the onion.

The couple cross a bridge over the canal, turn into narrower streets, poorer houses tightly-packed. WOMEN in white caps and aprons over dark clothes look up from scrubbing front door steps, WORKING MEN raise their hats. He still nods, she ignores them.

A BOY (FRANS) leans on the bridge, watching from under a mop of blond curls. The moment they are gone he is off - racing down the street, cutting through an alleyway to get ahead of them.

November 2003

In the kitchen his sister, GRIET, reacts to the sound of the * door; eyes wide, lips parted. Anticipation, uncertainty, even fear. A look we will come to recognise.

GRIET pulls the stiff folds of her white cap further forward round her face, resumes her work. She is slight, a young girl but with a sureness to her movements which seems older. Her clothes are as plain and severe as the narrow Calvinist room, the fresh-cut vegetables the only stroke of colour. She slides carrots onto the dish, absorbed in the pattern she is creating.

Her MOTHER comes hurrying into the room in her starched best clothes. A brief, irritated glance at the dish.

GRIET puts down the knife carefully.

GRIET hurries up narrow stairs to a room under the eaves, so low even she must stoop. Only a shaft of light penetrates the room. In the darkest corner a MAN hunches in a rocking chair.

GRIET squats in front of him. We see his hand is badly disfigured, fingers twisted into a claw, skin taut and shiny pink in places, otherwise ridged and gnarled.

He nods, face in shadow. This is an expected event.

There is a silent understanding between them. GRIET places his best black jacket on the bed, guides his hand with her spread fingers.

After a moment he stops her, instead he searches with fumbling fingers on a shelf by the bed. There are several tiles propped there, blue figures on white. He feels for one in particular.

A girl and boy, hand in hand. The unmistakable line of GRIET'S cap, FRANS flinging an arm joyfully in the air.

He presses it into GRIET'S hands, a gesture of regret and apology.

November 2003

The handsome couple stop at a small house. Now they have arrived the WOMAN hesitates, suddenly nervous. Her HUSBAND tidies a strand of her hair then knocks at the door.

From below the WOMAN'S VOICE; over-loud, her heels clattering on the tiled floor.

GRIET'S FATHER lifts his head - the first full sight of his face, taut and twisted, as if it had been melted and re-set, the eyes scarred and blind. Recent, terrible injuries. GRIET tries to ease on his coat.

Griet runs into position, cheeks flushed, and is once more chopping the vegetables as her MOTHER leads in the visitors.

The MAN and WOMAN step down into the kitchen, crowding the narrow space. GRIET looks to her MOTHER for guidance, carries on with her work, head bent.

The woman, CATHARINA, talks fast, distractedly, her hands forever moving, twisting the blonde curls on her neck.

CATHARINA seems too large for the room, too opulent, a pearl- inlaid crucifix dangles heavily between her breasts.

He isn't listening, gazing abstractedly at the wall. CATHARINA hurries on.

November 2003

CATHARINA twists her necklace round her fingers. Maybe she went too far.

CATHARINA crosses herself.

GRIET'S MOTHER stiffens at the Papist words. Uncomfortable silence.

The MAN'S voice cuts across his wife's. GRIET looks up, startled. He is staring at the vegetables she has arranged in swathes of colour on the dish. GRIET hesitates. Her MOTHER glares at her.

His quietness is intense, his cool grey eyes hold hers.

November 2003

CATHARINA snorts. GRIET is thrown; he has intruded into her private world. Instinctively she pulls her cap forward.

The MAN makes a small impatient gesture, her answers aren't what he wants. Her MOTHER is silently urging her.

He picks up a piece of onion and turnip.

His eyebrows go up, a small smile. GRIET finds she is very pleased to have pleased him.

Oh no. Not at all.

The MAN drops the shreds of onion and turnip, deliberately careless. GRIET'S fingers move to rearrange them but she controls herself. The MAN is still watching.

His casual words are shocking to his wife. She gasps and turns; too quickly, the heavy belly off-balance. The kitchen knife spins off the table and clatters on the ground.

GRIET bends to pick up the knife, crouching at his feet, her face inches from the rich trim of his cloak.

November 2003

In the half dark GRIET neatly folds a chemise, two starched aprons, a woollen shawl, her prayer book. FRANS pretends to sleep as she tiptoes out.

GRIET'S MOTHER pulls oat cakes from the griddle and burns her hand. The only clue to her heartbreak.

GRIET holds a wet rag to the burn. A rare moment of contact. Recovering herself GRIET'S MOTHER folds the oat cakes into a clean muslin.

How can she begin to tell her daughter all she needs to know?

GRIET nods dutifully. Her MOTHER hesitates then reaches to the back of the mantelpiece and brings down a tin box, the family treasure chest. It contains some silver coins, a few legal papers and a tortoiseshell comb, prettily decorated but old.

A silence. Abruptly she thrusts the comb and cakes at GRIET.

GRIET crosses the empty central square, at one end the grand fa~ade of the Town Hall, at the other the vast brick bulk of the New Church. A few stall holders are setting up.

At the brick star in the middle of the square GRIET hesitates. She adjusts the bundle under her arm, squares her shoulders, heads across the square into the unknown. She looks small and lonely in the huge space.

November 2003

GRIET walks along an unfamiliar street.

On a bench outside sit four well-dressed GIRLS, one with a BABY BOY on her lap. Four pairs of watchful eyes assessing her in silence. The oldest, MAERTGE (pronounced Mertha) holds a cockle shell and pipe-stern. The youngest(LISBETH), clutching a rag doll, pulls at MAERTGE'S sleeve impatiently.

After a moment the next oldest, CORNELIA, a thin, quick child with bright red hair snatches them and blows a stream of bubbles. They float upwards, glistening in the sunshine.

After a moment MAERTGE decides this is the right thing to do. The little ones run after her. GRIET and CORNELIA are left alone. CORNELIA eyes GRIET, smirking at her heavy clothing and clumsy shoes.

TANNEKE, the stolid servant of the house, leads the way, talking as she goes.

She sniffs, as if to say this is not a proper part of her duties. Her face is red from the stove, cheeks pocked.

She indicates the water pump as she leads the way up the steps.

The WASHING KITCHEN has a big copper cauldron set over a fire. There is a large heap of soiled laundry.

The middle of the room is full of sheets drying, carelessly arranged. Surreptitiously GRIET straightens the nearest sheet.

November 2003

She sweeps on down the steps.

TANNEKE'S stronghold, dominated by the big cooking fire. Pots and pans, none too clean, hang on the walls. TANNEKE carelessly throws some onion skins in the grate.

She curves a hand out beyond her own substantial belly.

She pulls on a rope and pulley to open a trapdoor down to the cellar.

No time to pause as TANNEKE leads the way through to another room.

There are paintings hung thickly on every wall. GRIET is distracted by the dazzling variety of colour and images. Glancing up SHE SEES CORNELIA watching from the upstairs balcony. TANNEKE rattles off instructions.

The furniture is solid and intricately carved, the heavy curtains round the marriage bed richly brocaded. But dirty laundry, children's shoes and toys lie scattered on the floor, disorderly and profuse, the opposite of GRIET'S clean, bare home.

November 2003

TANNEKE stands with hands on hips, out of breath. Her apron is grey and soiled with grease spots, her fingers reddened from work. CORNELIA comes and leans on TANNEKE, catlike in her temporary affection.

The right words. TANNEKE puffs with grim pride.

She looks around with proprietorial pride.

CORNELIA notices GRIET staring at the paintings.

CORNELIA is looking up at her, alert and interested. GRIET smiles back.

CORNELIA laughs scornfully.

GRIET feels stupid, as she was meant to, but TANNEKE is already bustling out of the room, GRIET must hurry after.

TANNEKE opens the door to a smaller but finely furnished room. She allows GRIET to glimpse inside.

November 2003

GRIET has an impression-of gaudy Catholic paintings, fine velvet and a prie-Dieu.

GRIET follows Tanneke's broad back up the stairs. TANNEKE points towards the door at the end of the corridor. In spite of herself she is frightened, her voice a whisper.

As GRIET takes a step in that direction.

Not now! He's painting.

Carrying a night light, GRIET goes carefully down the ladder into the cellar. The glint of bottles and jars, a broken footstool, a child's wooden top, the paint dim under layers of dust.

A sleeping place with a mattress, bolster and blanket has been made on a low wooden shelf. GRIET arranges her few possessions neatly: the prayer book and comb, her best lace collar, chemises and aprons, her father's tile. Wearily she kneels to pray. Her hands are already red and raw from all the work. She is about to take off her cap when she stops, uneasy. She looks around the dark room, shadows flickering in the candlelight. Suddenly she sees a face, ghostly white.

It is a Pieta; Mary holding the dead body of Christ, the Virgin's face hollow-eyed with grief, an arm raised in wild despair.

GRIET looks at it uneasily. Then with a quick decisive movement she takes her spare apron and drapes it over the painting. Blows out her candle. Only the faintest glimmer of light comes from the open trapdoor.

In the dark she can hear noises from the household, the MASTER'S low voice and laughter. She curls up into a ball.

With an effort GRIET heaves up a full pitcher of water and tips it into the washing copper. A fire blazes under the copper and GRIET wipes the sweat from her eyes.

November 2003

GRIET scrubs at soiled linen on a washboard. There are wet sheets hanging up, a huge pile still to do. Her fingers are raw from the washing soda and hot water.

CATHARINA comes out, moving slowly with the weight of her belly. Her chemise is already crumpled, she looks hot and tired, the blonde curls damp on her neck. She watches GRIET working. GRIET turns and dips a curtsey.

CATHARINA looks annoyed.

But she seems exhausted by this, continues to stand there absently, one hand on her belly, the other nervously jangling the household keys which hang at her hip. GRIET takes a man's shirt from the laundry basket. CATHARINA makes an effort.

She has barely more experience of this situation than GRIET.

CATHARINA'S face tightens instantly.

GRIET follows CATHARINA through the house, carrying a mop, cloths and bucket. CORNELIA darts up the stairs ahead of GRIET.

Outside the STUDIO CATHARINA stops, catching her breath. GRIET waits in silence. CATHARINA stares at the closed door. CORNELIA tugs at her skirts.

But when CORNELIA ignores her CATHARINA makes no further effort. She seems trapped, helpless. A finger twists and twists in her hair.

November 2003

Hesitantly GRIET sidles past them and opens the door. Inside is a heavy curtain she must push aside. CORNELIA tries to follow but CATHARINA grabs her back as if from the edge of a cliff.

Now GRIET is inside, looking out. CATHARINA is stuck in the doorway, holding back the curtain, CORNELIA glowering at her side.

Griet holds her mop and pail in the middle of the room, not wanting to start while CATHARINA watches.

GRIET moves from window to window pulling open the heavy wooden shutters, sunlight floods into the room. Downstairs the BABY starts crying, CATHARINA pushes her curls back impatiently.

With these words, almost a plea, CATHARINA closes the door.

Left alone GRIET looks round the STUDIO. It is large and uncluttered, unlike the rest of the house. Clean palettes and brushes laid neatly on a table, a tall cupboard, a half-open door through into a storeroom.

In one corner a table covered with a blue cloth, an open letter, the tools of a lady's toilette laid out in careful disarray. A wooden lay figure (artist's dummy) draped in a bright yellow satin jacket. The picture setting.

Very carefully, anchoring her hand on the corner of the table, GRIET lifts the letter, dusts the cloth underneath and replaces it. She uses her fingers as she did with her father's clothes, moving along methodically, fixing, lifting and cleaning.

A sudden flash of movement alarms her. Then she realises it is a mirror, fixed on the wall above the table. She stares at herself. The light from the window makes her skin glow; she looks beautiful, transfigured. She turns away, embarrassed.

November 2003

She avoids the painting for as long as she can. It is not large. But at last she has to look.

A woman stands gazing into the mirror as Griet did, transfixed, her pearl necklace forgotten in her hands. The light falls softly on her profile and on the objects littering the table in artful disarray. Her yellow satin mantle seems to glow.

GRIET stares, eyes wide in wonder. A chuckle.

GRIET swings round to find a LADY watching her from the doorway. She wears a stiff-bodiced black dress encrusted with shiny beadwork and a wide white collar. Under her starched cap her eyes are shrewd and amused.

Instinctively GRIET pulls her own cap forward. MARIA THINS chuckles again, puffs on a pipe she is holding in tobacco- stained fingers.

In spite of herself GRIET looks back at the picture.

GRIET curtseys, a mumbled "Madam".

MARIA THINS rakes the room with sharp eyes, gathering information.

GRIET looks from the painting to the setting. Although the objects lie on the table in the same way, the map on the wall and the window are almost the same, the effect is not.

MARIA THINS nods her head, then sighs.

GRIET studies the painting. It certainly looks finished. MARIA THINS laughs harshly.

November 2003

GRIET'S eyes widen in surprise. Suddenly MARIA THINS is angry.

GRIET hurriedly gathers up her cleaning things.

The courtyard is hung with white sheets, drying in the sun. GRIET is cleaning silverware, her hands and apron are black with tarnish, the cups and bowls beside her sparkle. She makes reflections dance across the walls for the children (also black- handed) to run after.

The GIRLS laugh and squeal, the BABY gurgles and tumbles after them.

CORNELIA is quickest, her red-gold hair brilliant in the sunshine. She leaps after the will-o-wisp of light.

GRIET too is fascinated by the light, white flame across the white cloth, pale orange on the red brickwork, dazzling at the window.

Through the glass she catches a movement in the room above, the light flickers over the MASTER'S face.

GRIET lets the bowl drop from her hand, confused. She wants to pull her cap forward but her hands are dirty. The girls fall silent at once, CORNELIA glares.

GRIET crouches to pick up the bowl. When she dares look up again the window is empty. The girls have disappeared.

Lisbeth? Aleydis?

Giggles from amongst the sheets. GRIET searches among the linen to find LISBETH and ALEYDIS happily making filthy hand prints on the clean sheets.

November 2003

Seeing GRIET'S face ALEYDIS stops at once, old enough to know better. LISBETH still thinks it's a game. GRIET pulls aside another sheet to reveal CORNELIA. The sheet is smeared with grime.

CORNELIA makes another hand print and laughs. In response GRIET slaps her, sharp on the cheek, a black smirch over the red. CORNELIA'S eyes widen in shock but she doesn't cry.

MAERTGE and CORNELIA accompany TANNEKE and GRIET towards the grand fa~ade of the MEAT MARKET; stone ox heads over the classical entrances.

The Meat Market is bustling with housewives and maids buying meat. Porters carry bloody carcasses along the sawdust-strewn aisles. TANNEKE leads the way importantly to one of the smartest stalls, where the meat has been laid out with gruesome wit: a wreath of kidneys round a calf's head, a flower in its hairy ear. PAUL, the BUTCHER, watches them coming with a shrewd smile.

With an effort GRIET looks away from the jaunty calf.

PAUL winks at her. He is a handsome man with greying fair hair and a broad, cheerful face. GRIET hesitates, looks to TANNEKE. TANNEKE counts off the order on her stubby fingers.

TANNEKE nods curtly, she hates this conversation. PAUL laughs, holds out the slab of tongue to MAERTGE and CORNELIA.

November 2003

He sticks his own tongue out, MAERTGE and CORNELIA giggle. GRIET looks at the chops going into her pail, pulls one out, holds and sniffs it.

The butcher looks at her in surprise, TANNEKE goes red. GRIET holds the meat out stubbornly. A long moment then PAUL smiles broadly.

A young man comes over, wiping his hands on his apron. He is tall and broad-shouldered like his father, with golden curls, an easy smile. GRIET blushes and tightens her grip on the shopping pail as he looks at her then his father.

His father frowns. PIETER shrugs and brings over a parcel which PAUL unwraps and holds out to GRIET. She inspects the meat, nods curtly.

TANNEKE turns away crossly. Father and son exchange an amused, approving glance.

GRIET is sweeping the hall when she suddenly stops. Framed in the doorway she sees a MAN unloading a narrow wooden box. Plain and dark, like a child's coffin. VERMEER supervises from the stairs.

Carrying her cleaning things Griet cautiously goes into the studio.

The room is just as usual except that on a table, placed where the easel would normally stand, is the strange wooden box.

November 2003

GRIET begins her cleaning, but her curiosity is too strong for her. She goes over to the strange box, a faint pretence at cleaning it as she examines it.

GRIET jumps back guiltily at the disembodied voice. VERMEER laughs and swings down from a trapdoor in the attic.

The strange words mean nothing to GRIET but she is curious as he looks into the box, making adjustments. Satisfied, he steps back.

GRIET moves jerkily forward and looks down at the glass plate inside the box. She sees nothing.

VERMEER takes his heavy cloak and gently drapes it over her, enveloping her in darkness. Like a jewel, an image is there in the dark, The painting, minute and perfect in glowing colours. Only the real woman is missing.

GRIET steps back in confusion, the robe falling to the floor. Her face is flushed, she drops to her knees grabbing at the cloak.

VERMEER takes it carelessly.

Griet Swallows. His questions seems to be asking for more than mere facts.

He starts to fiddle with the box, adjusting angles. GRIET is fascinated.

November 2003

VERMEER smiles. It is as though the sun is shining on her.

He beckons her forward to look into the box beside him.

GRIET strains to understand. With both of them leaning over the box the image can be faintly seen, a ghost. GRIET puts her fingers on the glass.

He starts to shut up the camera. GRIET is intrigued.

VERMEER laughs, not unkindly.

She frowns, confused. He is watching her now.

VERMEER moves impatiently, she wishes she knew the answer he wants. Suddenly he strides across the room and removes the silver bowl, stands the powder brush on its bristles. GRIET is startled; it's a kind of sacrilege to disturb the setting.

November 2003

He holds the cloak over them both so that as they bend over the screen their faces are lit by the image on the glass. She is intensely conscious of his face next to hers, he is intent on what he sees. She makes herself concentrate. The image is there again, this time without the silver bowl at its centre.

It's darker. And the brush pokes up at the end.

A faint sound of approval from VERMEER.

GRIET wakes with a start. It is dark, a spill of light from the trapdoor above. Wild SHRIEKS fill the house.

GRIET tumbles up the steps, still tying her apron, to find TANNEKE in the kitchen, blowing on the fire, agitated.

More SCREAMS from the Hall, MARIA THINS' calming voice.

Six babies. Why does she have to make such a racket?

GRIET pumps water from the cistern, cold water splashing into the metal pans, not loud enough to drown CATHARINA'S groans.

GRIET hides on the steps, hands over her ears.

The CHILDREN crowd around their MOTHER and the new BABY (a BOY) on the bed. CATHARINA is radiant, pink-cheeked and smiling. TANNEKE looks proud and pleased, holding up little JOHANNES to see his new brother. A PRIEST rattles through a blessing, a MIDWIFE clears away bloody cloths. GRIET brings wine, hesitates in the doorway.

November 2003

VERMEER crawls out from the embrace of his daughters. He is wearing a little velvet "paternity" cap decked with ribbons. His face is flushed, hair and clothes rumpled and messy.

MARIA THINS taps with her cane, startling GRIET, who stands aside at once. MARIA THINS watches her daughter and family, a wry smile. She has a folded note in her hand.

A boat ferries GRIET towards an imposing Renaissance mansion, one of the grandest houses in town.

VAN RUIJVEN'S business occupies the quayside, a prosperous commercial bustle. The boat noses into the boathouse.

VAN RUIJVEN reads the letter, holding it up to the light from the window. He is richly dressed, with longish dark hair and a moustache hiding a weak mouth and chin.

He looks up from the note and runs his eyes over GRIET, so blatantly lascivious that GRIET cannot stop herself from blushing. She pulls the points of her cap forward. VAN RUIJVEN laughs.

He goes over to a carved desk, finds a quill and paper. GRIET gazes around the Hall, far grander than Vermeer's with several Vermeer paintings among others on the walls.

VAN RUIJVEN is eyeing her. GRIET looks down in silence. He pours wine from a porcelain jug.

GRIET is shocked, tries to hide it.

November 2003

He smiles conspiratorially.

He drinks and wipes his moustache, glances at CATHARINA's note.

He scrawls his reply and blots it as he talks.

He laughs at his own joke; a rich, powerful man of the world. GRIET has never met anyone like him.

He draws back the curtain to reveal a painting by his desk. GRIET has to move a step or two closer to look at it, closer to him too.

The painting, by Vermeer, is a drinking scene: in the foreground a young woman in a gorgeous red dress (the WOMAN from the Tavern) smiles towards us, while a gentleman (VAN RUIJVEN) gives her a glass of wine. Behind them in a shadowy corner another man, head on hand, is bored or asleep.

November 2003

GRIET looks at the painting, drinking in the detail, fascinated. VAN RUIJVEN stands too close.

Sure?

VAN RUIJVEN leans towards her in conscious imitation of his painted self. She shakes her head.

He is right by GRIET now. She takes a step back.

VAN RUIJVEN drips scarlet sealing wax onto the back of the letter, presses his signet ring onto the molten blob.

He holds out the note, so she must tug it from his plump, white fingers. Behind them the painting of VAN RUIJVEN and the GIRL.

The kitchen is full of smoke and steam as TANNEKE cooks, GRIET assisting her.

November 2003

She slams down the meat dish with a clang.

LINEN, CROCKERY, CUTLERY, PEWTER are all whisked out of chests or cupboards: washed, scrubbed, polished, ironed.

GRIET scours the front door step with furious energy.

TANNEKE tips jellied meat out of a mould, puts it in the STOREROOM alongside rows of other delicacies

GRIET hangs laundry to dry, including a fine CHRISTENING ROBE.

MEN bring in furniture and hangings, their muddy feet marking the door step. GRIET scrubs it again, her back aches.

MUSICIANS tuning their instruments: FIDDLE and DRUM and PIPES. CATHARINA plays a melody on the fiddle, the others follow.

More deliveries: baskets of FLOWERS and GREENERY. MARIA THINS takes money from her cash box for the umpteenth time. She snaps it shut. BANG, BANG at the door.

GRIET goes to answer the back door. Everything aches and the hand she puts up to the latch is cracked and bleeding.

PIETER the butcher grins at her. GRIET stares back blankly, stupid with tiredness.

PIETER laughs.

November 2003

He gestures to a laden handcart behind him. GRIET hides her hands under her apron.

She shakes her head.

GRIET smiles at last but at that moment PIETER straightens up formally, his open face clouds, his hand automatically takes off his cap. GRIET turns and sees VERMEER watching from the dark interior, his grey eyes running past her to PIETER before he disappears inside. GRIET bites her lip.

Lights blaze from the windows. Torches are set high on the wall to light the street. GUESTS arrive, the rustle of rich materials and glitter of jewels. Already the house is crowded, a bright thrum of voices over the MUSIC.

VAN RUIJVEN and his entourage arrive by boat.

A pig spit-roasts in the backyard, a SMALL BOY sleepily turning the handle.

GRIET re-fills wine jugs from a barrel, carries them into the house.

The remains of a banquet are spread out on long trestle tables in the Hall, the fruit of TANNEKE'S labours - and of most of the bakers, pastry chefs and grocers of Delft. GRIET serves wine.

VERMEER sits at one end of the table, VAN RUIJVEN at the other with CATHARINA beside him.

November 2003

She wears her green velvet dress, fat pearls gleam at her neck and ears, her blonde hair is piled high and held in place by beautiful tortoiseshell combs, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. She is still big from the pregnancy but there is a lightness about her now, her eyes darting this way and that, her laughter rising over the other voices, that makes it hard not to look at her.

The bundle that is the new BABY is passed from GUEST to GUEST along the table until he starts to yell in protest, when he is handed back, with much laughter, to his mother. CATHARINA coos over him gently, soothing him with a finger, but the WET-NURSE is standing by. Reluctantly she hands him over, the baby latches on greedily to the breast.

CATHARINA laughs bravely as he eyes her cleavage. MARIA THINS rises to her feet and taps a glass for quiet.

(Cheers and applause)

Our thanks to you all for so many kind presents - but also to rejoice at another birth: a new masterpiece from the hand of my son-in-law, Johannes Vermeer.

She pulls the cover from the finished painting, which is on an easel by the table. More applause, warm and genuine. No doubt that his talents are admired but VERMEER can only manage a tight formal smile of acknowledgement. VAN RUIJVEN gets to his feet and bows, taking the plaudits as his by right.

He walks this way and that before the painting, studying it with a great air of connoisseurship until the room falls quiet. His wife EMILIE VAN RUIJVEN (the subject of the painting), MARIA THINS and CATHARINA wait anxiously on his judgement. Only VERMEER sits still, shielding his painting hand with the other.

Vermeer nods.

General laughter.

Nov@mb@r 2003

CATHARINA flashes a look at her husband: Play the game. She motions GRIET to pour more wine.

VAN RUIJVEN takes a stance in front of the painting, authoritative, proprietorial.

His sharp eyes flick over the worried faces of VERMEER'S womenfolk. He smiles graciously.

VAN RUIJVEN laughs. MARIA THINS leads more applause - of VAN RUIJVEN'S approval and discerning taste - as VAN RUIJVEN places a heavy purse on the table in front of CATHARINA. EMILIE sits passively - her husband is cruelly accurate - as GRIET pours wine for her.

And have you considered a subject for your next commission? We cannot expect you to give up Emilie for so long again.

A palpable shock of disappointment from CATHARINA and MARIA THINS. VAN RUIJVEN chats on, enjoying their discomfort.

November 2003

MARIA THINS signals for GRIET to refill VAN RUIJVEN'S glass.

An expectant silence. But there is no other patron and VAN RUIJVEN knows it. The silence grows awkward.

General laughter. VAN RUIJVEN stops GRIET, a hand on her arm and grins down the table at VERMEER.

VERMEER smiles politely.

VAN RUIJVEN lets her go.

VERMEER glances at GRIET. GRIET is in turmoil; hating the attention yet hoping, in spite of herself, that he'll see something in her. But his eyes slide away.

CATHARINA struggles to put on a brave face.

EMILIE opens her mouth, as if she might speak.

November 2003

Rain drives along the canal and splatters the window panes as GRIET hurriedly pulls them closed from within.

LISBETH and ALEYDIS stare glumly out of the window at the rain pouring down; they both have racking coughs. CORNELIA is clacking the pieces on a tric-trac board, MAERTGE is trying to amuse the toddler JOHANNES with pat-a-cake games. CATHARINA paces to and fro failing to soothe the BABY.

GRIET leaves quietly.

GRIET can still hear CORNELIA arguing with the others downstairs. The perpetual, thin wailing of the BABY. She closes the door, pulls the curtain across.

The STUDIO is bare and cold. Only one thing has changed. A new canvas sits blank on the easel.

GRIET carries her pitchers to the canal. A few doors down the street BAILIFFS are hauling furniture from a house. A SERVANT comes out after them, holding her apron to her face. TANNEKE has come to see what's going on.

GRIET watches wide-eyed as more fine possessions are dragged out and loaded onto a barge.

An old GENTLEMAN and his white-haired WIFE come slowly out of the house. Stupefied by their misfortune. The OLD WOMAN tries to intervene to save some personal memento, a BAILIFF pushes her off roughly so she falls to the ground.

TANNEKE crosses herself, warding off evil.

November 2003

TANNEKE, GRIET and the CHILDREN are eating their supper in apprehensive silence. The front door opens and shuts.

At once CATHARINA'S VOICE rises in complaint, a string of shrill accusations.

It's late and the two servants sit by the fire.

TANNEKE rolls her eyes in delicious horror at the memory.

GRIET listens, open-mouthed.

The household has gone to bed. GRIET lingers by the dying embers of the kitchen fire. When she hears the door she gets up.

VERMEER comes in quietly, his cloak wrapped around him against the freezing night. His eyes meet GRIET'S for a moment before she looks down and he goes upstairs.

GRIET in her best lace collar. MARIA THINS counts out small coins into her hand. Far off a church bell ringing, then another.

GRIET returns through the gates and over the bridge to the poorer quarter. Home.

November 2003

GRIET kneels beside FRANS between her FATHER and MOTHER. Their church is a modest place.

GRIET'S FATHER holds GRIET'S hand, caressing the callused,

cracked fingers.

A movement in the doorway. She looks up and sees PIETER.

The family and PIETER outside the church.

He pauses politely but none of the family are able to take up the conversation. He smiles encouragingly.

He addresses himself entirely to GRIET'S MOTHER, who is charmed by his good looks and good manners.

(They walk a few steps)

So, a butcher. That's a good trade.

GRIET is annoyed at the knowing smile that passes between her MOTHER and PIETER. FRANS elbows her.

November 2003

There now I forgot! We must speak with Willem Jansson. Griet, you go on with Pieter here.

She whisks her husband and son away, leaving GRIET facing a grinning PIETER.

GRIET refuses to be impressed.

The GOSSIPS are watching them, a handsome young man is not going to pass unnoticed. GRIET takes the arm he offers, holds her head up as she walks away.

Walking by the canal. There are other courting couples - for that's what they must be - prayer books under their arms, going home slowly. PIETER skims a stone. It bounces and bounces down the flat water, far beyond what seems possible. PIETER laughs, turning back to GRIET, arms wide.

GRIET'S arms are folded but she cannot resist answering his smile with her own.

GRIET looks round the empty studio, wanting to do something. The stretched canvas is as blank as before, the room bleak. She pulls back the last shutter, mottled cold light on the wall.

GRIET finds CATHARINA with her mother by the fire, heads together, talking in low voices. CATHARINA glares at GRIET, annoyed at the interruption.

November 2003

CATHARINA rocks the baby's cradle, to show she is not being idle.

CATHARINA rolls her eyes.

CATHARINA pauses, considering this. MARIA THINS smiles wryly. CATHARINA notices.

Hard at work GRIET wrings out her cloth in a basin of water and wipes the windows. There are patterns of coloured glass, the light stains her fingers as she works; pale blue, rose pink. The same look of absorbed pleasure as when she cut the vegetables.

She is startled when she turns to rinse the rag and sees VERMEER standing stock still in the doorway.

GRIET stands still, the rag in her hands. That small impatient gesture of his hand.

Awkwardly GRIET tries to go back to wiping the window. He points at the rag.

She lets it fall. Dirty water splatters on the clean floor. After a moment she pushes the rag under her skirt with one foot. Looks at her left hand again. A sudden laugh of delight from VERMEER.

November 2003

GRIET takes down laundry, frozen stiff into scarecrow shapes. From inside the thin keening of the BABY stops for a moment. GRIET breathes in relief, vapour curling from her lips. The BABY starts again, GRIET tenses. CATHARINA calls her.

It is gloomy in the big room even with candles lit. A small fire burns in the wide grate. The BABY grizzles fretfully, refusing to feed from the WET-NURSE.

CATHARINA is at her desk but she looks exhausted, nerves frayed. She frowns at GRIET as if she can't remember why she is here.

Something in the appearance of the maid; her scrupulous neatness, her starched white cap, her blatant youth, is deeply galling to CATHARINA.

An errand CATHARINA always reserves for herself.

CATHARINA pushes aside loose papers to make space. Some fall to the ground and GRIET hurries to pick them up. Columns of figures, accounts, bills: CATHARINA snatches them back.

GRIET hesitates, her head dipping under the cap.

CATHARINA smiles. Starts to write; a big, bold hand, dipping the quill fast and splashing drops of black ink across the paper. She sands and folds the paper with a flourish.

November 2003

She looks through the desk for money. Finds only a few coins.

No, no, that's not it! To go on the Master's account.

She hands the note to GRIET, flushed with indignation.

Anywhere away from a fireside is bitterly cold. GRIET shivers as she puts on her wooden pattens, wraps her rough woollen shawl tighter round her shoulders. The room darkens.

She spins round. VERMEER has followed her in to the narrow space. He puts a hand out, as one might to calm a frightened animal, then lets it fall.

She waits, tense at the sudden strangeness.

VERMEER hands her a scrap of paper.

VERMEER is taken aback for a moment.

The exchange feels conspiratorial, guilty, reinforced by the dark and narrow space. He touches the edge of her shawl.

November 2003

VERMEER shakes his head, coming out of the moment. He turns abruptly and pushes past CORNELIA who is peering inquisitively. GRIET tucks the paper into her shawl quickly, but not fast enough to avoid CORNELIA'S sharp eyes.

GRIET bites her lip.

But the evasion - the lie - hangs between them. CORNELIA'S eyes narrow, cat-like, accusing.

A single skater pushes a sled-barrow down the frozen canal, hunched against the biting wind. GRIET hurries along deserted streets.

Three steps down into the gloom of the apothecary's shop. GRIET shakes the snow off her shawl and looks around: the first time she has ever been in such a place.

All around the walls glass bottles and jars are filled with dark liquids or packed with dried herbs. A desiccated lizard dangles in mid-air. The atmosphere is smoky from a grumbling peat fire.

GRIET is startled. Peering into the corner by the fire she sees a tiny old man, as brown and wrinkled as one of his remedies. He is watching her curiously.

She brings out the note and the old man scans it quickly and starts getting down different jars and bottles, weighing out herbs in his scales.

November 2003

GRIET watches his quick hands working, crushing and mixing the dried leaves.

The APOTHECARY ties up the packages neatly.

GRIET reaches into her shawl and pulls out his paper.

The APOTHECARY opens it and finds VERMEER'S instructions. He frowns at GRIET.

GRIET meets his eyes, blank to their prying.

APOTHECARY

With another suspicious look at her he climbs a ladder to a high cupboard and unlocks it with a key chained to his belt. Clearly the pigments are the most precious things in his shop. He takes out dark glass jars, sealed with wax, stands them on the counter.

GRIET stares at the mysterious raw materials of magic.

He wants the very best, it's all that matters to him.

Bitter cold weather, the wind whips snow flurries along the frozen canals. Even so, one window is open up in the studio.

November 2003

At first we see only over the model's shoulder; VERMEER painting, his face rapt with concentration. Moving round the camera reveals one of CATHARINA'S bodices, blue striped with yellow, then GRIET'S white cap. But the model is not GRIET.

Another GIRL, pale and thin, stands in the same pose, encased asexually in CATHARINA'S clothes.

GRIET is mopping the floor on hands and knees when MARIA THINS' black cane pins down her cloth. GRIET looks up, startled. The old woman studies her, a thin smile.

MARIA THINS is watching her sharply.

CORNELIA runs in through the front door, dirty footprints on the clean floor.

MARIA THINS cuffs her sharply.

CORNELIA scowls at GRIET. MARIA THINS softens.

Going to bed GRIET sees that her things have been disturbed. Her tile has been deliberately broken in half, she and Frans split either side of the jagged edge. She is very upset.

November 2003

While the other girls bend diligently over their cushions and bobbins CORNELIA teases a kitten with the dangling threads of her lace work. GRIET, with a pile of mending before her, tries to concentrate. The kitten's claws snag in the delicate threads. CORNELIA laughs.

She gets up, letting the cushion fall on the floor, pins and bobbins scattering.

The other CHILDREN are watching round-eyed. Gentle MAERTGE tries to make peace.

CORNELIA sneers at GRIET.

GRIET gets up angrily and CORNELIA, scared and excited, hides behind the furniture.

CATHARINA comes hurrying in, the BABY asleep in her arms. CORNELIA runs to her, clings to her skirts as if for protection.

There is no answer, except CORNELIA'S plaintive snivels. CATHARINA pets her distractedly but the BABY has woken and starts crying again. CATHARINA glares at GRIET.

November 2003

GRIET sees with relief that the STUDIO door is open. She steps inside and leans against it, shutting out the hostile world, the noise and clatter of everyday life. It is not till she is three steps into the room that she realises VERMEER is there, silent and still on his painting stool.

He waves her into silence, concentrated on his painting.

GRIET waits awkwardly in the middle of the room.

GRIET opens the door revealing jars, pouches and pots of different pigments. She takes one of the larger pots and measures out white paste into the small dish on the table.

VERMEER seems to pay no more attention to her. She stands and watches, enthralled, as he mixes and thins the paint on the palette, making marks with a sure hand.

GRIET stares at the chilly MODEL standing uncomfortably at the window, trying to see what he sees. She looks back at the table and then, seized by an inspiration, she goes quietly to the cupboard. She looks through the jars until she sees the one she wants.

VERMEER comes over to the mixing table to re-fill his palette with white. He sees the other colour.

Put it away.

He turns back to the easel. She is left at the table holding the little pot of blue.

November 2003

GRIET walks along a parapet, at the end PIETER must jump her down. They are in a corner sheltered by a bridge. He keeps hold of her waist, slides one hand up to her neck.

He moves closer, she tries to push him away, he laces his fingers through hers. She focuses on his hand: dried blood caked at the base of the nails. He smiles at her, starts to lift one side of her cap.

She pulls the cap down, he tugs it up again, laughing.

She pushes him off.

Brown.

He tries to pull off the cap again. She beats at his arms in deadly earnest.

He sees she is serious, lets his hands drop. She straightens her cap in silence.

PIETER grins.

November 2003

GRIET shoots him a look of fury, outraged at the truth and shame of it.

GRIET cleans the picture setting, buffing the silver jug, her reflection distorted in the gleaming metal. She compares the setting to the painting. Areas are blocked in dark colours: the jug and bowl are red-brown, the girl's skirt is black. Dull, dead colours.

VERMEER is behind her, his dark reflection overwhelming hers in the jug. He can't apologise, turns instinctively to the painting for support.

GRIET nods.

GRIET hesitates, then blurts out her confusion.

VERMEER walks to the window and opens it wide.

She steps to the window, he moves aside but still close enough to feel the warmth of his body. She stares intently at the puffy clouds and blue sky.

She frowns, it must be some kind of trick. Wants to speak but dare not. That impatient gesture.

November 2003

She knows it was the wrong thing to say and can see he is about to dismiss her.

He smiles.

She doesn't, but she doesn't want to admit it. She steals a glance at him, his sombre face aglow.

Words frustrate him.

GRIET stares out of the high kitchen window at scudding clouds, a pewter jug forgotten in her hands.

She laughs, not unkindly, as GRIET blushes and goes back to polishing the jug.

GRIET slips away from the Market stalls down the alley to the Apothecary's shop.

GRIET creeps up the stairs and slides through the studio door.

VERMEER is sitting, massaging his painting hand as he stares at the painting, no brush or palette to be seen.

Sir?

She holds out the little packages from the apothecary. He looks back at the drab reds and browns of his painting, already seeing what will be there.

November 2003

GRIET finds a small lump of blackish stone (lapis lazuli).

GRIET is excited, but also fearful.

He is already pulling open his painting cupboard, taking out scallop shells, a wide copper bowl.

VERMEER makes his impatient gesture, then realises what she is saying.

In a corner of the studio is a wooden ladder leading up. VERMEER climbs up swiftly, leaving GRIET alone. Hesitating a moment she picks up the bowl and dishes and clambers after him.

A bare, bright room. The only furniture is a heavy table with a stone top, dipped in the centre and a cupboard with many small drawers.

VERMEER lays out the pigments with deft, delicate fingers. Dark powders and unpromising lumps of ore.

He hangs over them with the helpless love of the obsessive. GRIET watches in fascination.

He fishes narrow strips - "buckles" - of lead from a jar of brown liquid. They are furred with white powder which he scrapes into a dish.

November 2003

A dark mash of grape skins and pips is spooned into the copper bowl.

From one of the packages he takes little black sticks.

He takes a smooth egg-shape stone from the table, puts a piece of charred bone into the dip and quickly grinds it to a fine powder. Deftly he spoons it into a shell.

He puts another piece of bone in the hollow. GRIET picks up the muller and tries to do as he did. She finds it awkward, the stone slips in her hand, the bone flakes out of the hollow. VERMEER watches her intently.

He puts his hand over hers.

At the shock of his touch she freezes, her breath and his loud in the silence. His white hand on hers, outlined against the black powder. The seconds stretch. She recoils abruptly and the muller skids from her grasp across the table.

GRIET sneaks through the house in the blue-grey before dawn. Through the room where TANNEKE and the WET NURSE are snoring. The BABY starts to cry and the WET NURSE stumbles out of bed to the HALL, TANNEKE moans at her. GRIET shrinks into the shadows as the disturbance spreads among the sleepers all around her.

She climbs the stairs. Stops outside the studio door and feels above the frame for a hidden key.

GRIET grinds and refines colours, sieving the ground dust through a muslin, absorbed in her work.

November 2003

GRIET helps TANNEKE fold sheets into the linen cupboard. TANNEKE yawns theatrically.

CATHARINA is preparing to go out, she is in high spirits. Her jewel box is open and she wears a wide white linen collar to protect her rich yellow mantle from her face powder. The girls are hanging around her, CORNELIA trying on her necklaces.

CATHARINA doesn't look round from the mirror.

CORNELIA puts back a heavy pearl necklace, takes an inlaid tortoiseshell comb from the jewel box. MAERTGE smoothes her mother's elaborately dressed hair, helping to pat the curls into place round her forehead.

TANNEKE sighs again.

CATHARINA dangles a bright chain over the BABY'S crib fondly, laughing as his fat fingers grab for it.

November 2003

CATHARINA holds up her pearl earrings and approves herself with a smile.

GRIET continues to fold linen quietly, hearing the unreasonable tone in CATHARINA'S voice at her name.

VERMEER kneels on the black and white tiles playing stones with little JOHANNES. Now he looks up.

The WOMEN all look at him in astonishment. He is not one for domestic detail. He throws the stones again, seeming unconcerned.

CATHARINA, GRIET and TANNEKE take in the implications of this warily. He smiles wide-eyed, like Cornelia bent on mischief.

Catharina plays for time, takes her necklace back from CORNELIA to put in her jewel box.

VERMEER comes to her, offering a key like a love token.

He puts the key in her hand, CATHARINA weighs it up. She wants this key, this control, but ... She glances over at GRIET surreptitiously. GRIET is frozen, waiting for her fate to be decided.

CATHARINA adds the key to the bunch at her waist.

November 2003

TANNEKE throws GRIET a sour look, feeling the girl has somehow come out better than her.

VERMEER touches CATHARINA'S linen collar.

He is looking at her with his painter's eye, runs a hand over her cheek and jaw, watching the shadows.

Tugging at the bow already. His fingers caress her neck. CATHARINA pushes him away cheerfully.

GRIET wakes early. The sun is streaming through the attic skylight, church bells ringing over the town. A wonderful sense of freedom after the dark cellar.

She lays out her few precious things on a beam, puts her prayer book by the trapdoor.

She strains a pigment left to soak overnight, takes off her "painting" apron before climbing down to the studio.

The room is spotlessly clean and tidy. GRIET inspects the painting.

The girl's clothes and the objects all have their true colours now: the blue skirt shadowed with black; red just visible under the multiplicity of reflected colours in the bowl.

November 2003

The girl in the painting wears not only GRIET'S cap, cowling her face, but the wide white collar CATHARINA wore to powder herself. The effect is nun-like, a physical and spiritual separation from the body. A chair fills the foreground, adding depth to the composition.

GRIET frowns. Something is not right. She blocks different parts with her hands.

CATHARINA unlocks the door, the great bunch of keys jangling and knocking her hand. GRIET is waiting inside, eyes down. CATHARINA stands aside for her to leave, the girl goes by her without looking up, a murmur of acknowledgement.

CATHARINA looks into the empty studio, craning her neck to see something significant in the bare room.

GRIET is grinding pigment, her action now as smooth and easy as VERMEER'S, a quiet trance-like state. Interrupted by MEN'S VOICES.

GRIET freezes. They are coming into the STUDIO. Below her noises of moving furniture, a grunt as the MEN lift something heavy.

They laugh. GRIET peers down into the STUDIO.

GRIET'S POV

VERMEER holds one end of the camera obscura, the MAN (VAN LEEUWENHOEK) the other. An extension, obviously home-made, has been put on one end and they are struggling to fit the whole contraption safely on the table.

VAN LEEUWENHOEK talks at top speed, ideas bursting out without time to catch his breath.

November 2003

They lift the box but as they do so VAN LEEUWENHOEK catches sight of GRIET watching from the attic. He gasps and drops his end of the camera obscura with a crash.

GRIET hides.

He starts disassembling the camera obscura as he talks.

(to VAN LEEUWENHOEK)

If you kept your shop in better order you wouldn't have to listen to so much talk

Hold forth.

November 2003

GRIET hesitates, this is her secret with VERMEER. But something in VAN LEEUWENHOEK'S face gives her confidence.

Uncertainly GRIET takes up the pose of the model at the window.

The two MEN burrow under VERMEER'S cloak to see the image. They look more than a little absurd, a sort of lumpy pantomime horse.

GRIET'S lips curl upwards.

GRIET tries to look solemn.

GRIET struggles to obey. VAN LEEUWENHOEK emerges from under the cloak, laughing.

GRIET holds her breath. VERMEER straightens up, turns away.

They move away, leaving GRIET in the painting corner.

November 2.003

VAN LEEUWENHOEK laughs.

VAN LEEUWENHOEK lowers his voice.

November 2003

The door opens abruptly and MARIA THINS stands there.

MARIA THINS ignores him, turns angrily on her son-in-law.

VERMEER cradles his painting hand.

She is too annoyed to be able to speak to him, switches back to VAN LEEUWENHOEK.

VAN LEEUWENHOEK bows to her.

MARIA THINS looks thunderstruck as she realises GRIET, still in the painting pose, has witnessed this scene.

GRIET hurries to leave. MARIA THINS turns to VERMEER again.

Joannis, in the Name of Christ - think! You are not the only one in this house with eyes.

It is the end of the day. TANNEKE sits on a bench trying to light a pipe. GRIET takes down the last of the laundry. CORNELIA and MAERTGE are practising dance steps.

November 2003

She puffs at the pipe, drawing out the moment. Looks over at the two girls.

No, she cannot abide the smell when she's with child.

GRIET, arms full of baby clothes, can't hide her surprise.

TANNEKE is delighted to be first with bad news.

She looks up to the lit studio window significantly.

GRIET doesn't want to hear this.

Again GRIET is taken aback. TANNEKE laughs.

Wisely GRIET doesn't attempt to guess. If she did she might say forty.

Twenty eight.

November 2003

GRIET is horrified but TANNEKE examines her beefy forearms and broad girth with some satisfaction.

GRIET must pass through the Great Hall to get to bed but dare not interrupt the scene before her.

CATHARINA sits at the delicate keyboard of a spinet, all her fretful energy released in the music, her hands floating over the notes.

VERMEER leans forward to turn the page for her, inhaling her scent. His hand caresses her bare shoulder. A deeply sensual, intimate moment.

GRIET sinks back in the shadows.

GRIET playfully runs away from PIETER. He catches her and kisses her.

GRIET lays out colours for the day with absolute certainty and precision, glancing at the painting to be sure of what is needed.

She stops short, circles the easel, looking from different angles.

Very carefully and deliberately she drags the heavy lion-headed chair out of the foreground of the setting.

She looks at what she's done, astonished by her own boldness.

The key turns in the lock, she hurries to the door, breathless.

Instead of CATHARINA, CORNELIA is at the door, holding the heavy bunch of keys with pride. She eyes GRIET intently, taking advantage of her surprise.

What were you doing?

November 2003

GRIET is wrong-footed, tries to keep calm.

CORNELIA is peering into the studio over GRIET'S shoulder.

GRIET sits on the bench in the sunshine with baby FRANCISCUS on her knee. LISBETH and ALEYDIS are playing with their dolls, CORNELIA interfering in their game. MAERTGE is sewing.

VERMEER comes down the street, CORNELIA and LISBETH run to meet him. He goes into the house without looking at GRIET. She waits, tense.

GRIET carries her candle through the darkened house and upstairs. She stands outside the studio door, hardly daring to go in.

The room is neat and empty. No sign of work, the window closed, the cupboard locked. GRIET holds up her candle to see the painting. He has made her change, painted out the chair. GRIET stares, exultant, at what she has done.

GRIET and VERMEER are at work preparing colours; GRIET grinding bone black, VERMEER kneading a paste of precious blue lapis lazuli. VERMEER clears his throat.

GRIET pauses, not uncertain, but wanting to say rightly what she means.

November 2003

She puts down the muller, thinking it through carefully.

She has finished and looks up at him for his reaction but he stands still and silent for a long time. At last he starts working again, GRIET picks up her muller too. Almost at once he stops.

They are both very still, their hands next to each other by the bright pigments. His beautiful long, white fingers, so close to hers they can feel each other's warmth.

Then suddenly a clatter of footsteps and voices below; MARIA THIN'S voice, a warning tone.

VERMEER climbs down the ladder. MARIA THINS is at the door, her eyes flick anxiously up to the ATTIC.

CATHARINA fumes behind her, infuriated at her exclusion, her hair half-dressed.

It is an accusation not a statement.

VERMEER stands at the window, looking out. GRIET reads disaster in MARIA THINS' scowl. CATHARINA's eyes rest on a smear of scarlet madder on GRIET's arm. She draws herself up with fierce dignity. She is totally vindicated.

She sweeps her skirt round to go downstairs, MARIA THINS close behind, her clever, soothing words for once pass unheeded. CORNELIA'S face at the door, a brief triumphant smirk before she follows them. Suddenly GRIET understands.

GRIET and VERMEER are left alone in the studio. A painful silence, punctuated by the WOMEN'S VOICES from below.

VERMEER turns abruptly and crosses the room, not meeting her eyes. As he reaches the door:

November 2003

He hesitates, back turned.

On his face, frozen in dismay.

The whole house in uproar: CATHARINA furious, CORNELIA crying, TANNEKE red-faced with indignation.

VERMEER goes from room to room, pulling back bed covers, sweeping stuff off shelves, the WOMEN squawking behind him like hens.

He finds GRIET'S tortoiseshell comb under CORNELIA'S mattress.

It is MARIA THINS who takes up her cane while CATHARINA turns away weeping. CORNELIA'S face is white and defiant, her grey eyes like stone.

VERMEER and MARIA THINS sit at the oak table while CATHARINA paces to and fro, kicking her skirts out of her way. There is something a little unhinged, disturbing, about her anger, the way it controls her body, jerks her this way and that.

GRIET and TANNEKE stand and face the family, but CATHARINA acts as if GRIET weren't in the room.

GRIET looks towards VERMEER, hoping he will explain, defend her. He is studying his boots. MARIA THINS glares at her warningly.

She bumps against the table in her anger, thumps it with her open hand. VERMEER half-reaches out to her. She stops abruptly, she might be going to hit him. MARIA THINS decides to take charge.

November 2003

Her tone includes her son-in-law in the charge.

MARIA THINS cuts her off.

CATHARINA is quelled for the moment.

Her eyes are dark and beady, calculating, holding them all in her grasp.

VERMEER cradles his painting hand in the other protectively, but he neither speaks nor looks at any of them. MARIA THINS claps her hands, dismissing them all.

CATHARINA is very nervous, she brushes the GIRLS' hair, ignoring their protests.

GRIET helps MAERTGE into her first grown-up dress, of which she is shyly proud. MAERTGE will never be a beauty but dressed up, her hair curled and ribboned, she begins to look like a lady: only a couple of years younger than GRIET but already her life set on an utterly different course.

CATHARINA sees them together - the mousy, richly-dressed girl, the linen-capped maid who effortlessly eclipses her - and her mouth tightens.

November 2003

Obediently MAERTGE goes to her MOTHER. CATHARINA'S hands are still busy taming CORNELIA'S hair, she can think of nothing to keep MAERTGE with her.

MAERTGE droops instantly. CORNELIA pokes her tongue out at her sister, winces as CATHARINA tugs at her hair.

NOISE from outside, the guests arriving. They all run to look out of the window.

VAN RUIJVEN, with his wife and daughter, arrives at the house in grand style on their barge. Their clothes are even richer, his voice booms louder than before. VERMEER, stepping forward to greet him, looks shabby in comparison.

As the honoured guests VAN RUIJVEN sits at one end of the table, his WIFE EMILIE on VERMEER'S right. VAN RUIJVEN meets CATHARINA'S eye with a lascivious grin.

He laughs again, then licks a finger and rubs it on CATHARINA'S cheek, examines it for signs of make-up. As an afterthought licks it again, as if he had dipped it in honey. CATHARINA smiles at him, a woman of the world.

MAERTGE, sitting between her MOTHER and FATHER, quails at his attention, ears burning red.

GRIET serves EMILIE VAN RUIJVEN, as calm and silent as her painting.

MARIA THINS turns to VAN RUIJVEN with a smile.

November 2003

VAN RUIJVEN is intrigued.

VAN RUIJVEN laughs, head back.

MARIA THINS straightens the delicate white lace on her cuff.

She glances at VERMEER, knowing he won't like this. He concentrates on helping MAERTGE.

No sign of interest from VAN RUIJVEN. MARIA THINS pushes further.

GRIET serves MARIA THINS. CATHARINA puts a hand on VAN RUIJVEN'S arm.

VAN RUIJVEN leans closer to her, shamelessly ogling her cleavage,

November 2003

They giggle together like smutty children. GRIET goes round to serve VAN RUIJVEN, head down, shoulders hunched, trying to be invisible.

He breaks off to take a mouthful of meat.

He reaches back with one arm and grabs GRIET, pulling her forward. VERMEER is on his feet. CATHARINA shrieks, VAN RUIJVEN releases his grip, still smiling. His sharp eyes are on VERMEER as he sinks back into his chair, the reaction noted.

MARIA THINS licks her lips, eyes darting from one end of the table to the other. VERMEER runs one fingertip round his wineglass till it sings.

GRIET glances at CATHARINA, who is leaning forward, cheeks flushed, eyes burning, ready to explode in fury. VAN RUIJVEN stuffs another lump of meat in his mouth, enjoying himself.

GRIET waits to be served. A fly crawls slowly over the meat. A huddle of WOMEN nudge and stare. GRIET looks away, mortified. There is no sign of PIETER. PAUL leans over to her.

GRIET flushes, her face tight.

November 2003

PAUL shrugs.

Agitated, GRIET stuffs the meat in the shopping pail.

PAUL laughs.

GRIET hurries back through the crowds, the girls trotting to keep up.

PIETER hurries along the street after them. He has a carcass on one shoulder, his apron is smeared with blood. Passers-by look round in surprise.

PIETER arrives, breathless. Props the carcass on stiff hind legs.

He waits for her denial.

GRIET bites her lip.

November 2003

She starts walking again, the GIRLS beside her. PIETER shoulders the carcass and comes after them.

MAERTGE holds GRIET'S hand possessively, CORNELIA glares at him. He comes closer, lowers his voice to a murmur.

She turns on him angrily.

GRIET hurries back to the house. Too late she sees VERMEER and VAN RUIJVEN talking by the canal and turns away.

GRIET turns slowly. VAN RUIJVEN comes up to meet her, VERMEER following reluctantly.

VAN RUIJVEN smiles sideways at VERMEER, winks at GRIET.

He leans close, confiding.

VAN RUIJVEN is delighted at the effect of his jibes on GRIET and VERMEER.

November 2003

VERMEER shakes his head stiffly, like a puppet. EMILIE VAN RUIJVEN and a teenage DAUGHTER come up behind them.

VAN RUIJVEN tucks his wife's arm into his. GRIET looks up at her MASTER. His grey eyes slide past hers and away. He is angry. She hurries into the house.

GRIET sweeps the studio; orange peel and crumbs mark VAN RUIJVEN'S place among the chairs and instruments. The key turns in the lock but it is not CATHARINA. VERMEER stands in the doorway as if he too were unable, or unwilling, to come into the STUDIO.

He gestures to the painting corner.

Two tapestry-covered chairs have been arranged around the harpsichord, a lute on one, a bass viol propped against the wall. VERMEER busies himself at the table. GRIET looks at the paintings on the wall, both taken from downstairs.

One is a landscape, trees and an open road into the distance. The other is of a man and two women. The man is buying the young one's favours from the old, he already has an arm round her. [The Procuress, Dirk van Baburen]

VERMEER clears his throat and GRIET looks round, full of foreboding, waiting for her instructions. But none come. He simply sits and stares at her. And stares. His face wears a familiar abstracted expression. Her eyes slowly fill with tears. He is going to paint her.

She looks bleakly at the musical instruments lying around her.

VERMEER frowns.

November 2003

The tears that threatened before now spill down her cheeks.

VERMEER stands up abruptly, profoundly ill at ease.

MARIA THINS counts out coins while GRIET waits with the shopping pail.

GRIET looks down at the coins in her hands.

MARIA THINS fingers the handle of her cane.

Gimlet eyes on GRIET to see how she takes this.

She turns to go back up her private staircase.

GRIET'S sombre face reflected for a moment before the pitcher breaks the surface.

Carrying the pitcher in she meets VERMEER returning home, his cloak wrapped round him. He holds the door open. As she passes he murmurs in her ear.

November 2003

She hesitates for a moment, heart racing. She can feel his eyes on her, the warmth of his body.

He moves on into the house.

He frowns. It isn't working.

Surrounding GRIET are all the "props" familiar from the paintings - The silver bowl and jug, the studded box, powder brush, an open book. CATHARINA'S yellow bodice hangs on a chair. GRIET is hedged in by things. VERMEER pulls things away, drags a different table carpet into place, pushes a chair across, frantically building walls between himself and her. GRIET watches.

These are ladies' things.

He is closing shutters: slam, slam. The studio grows darker and darker.

He reaches for the yellow mantle. GRIET plucks up courage.

He looks at her across the table.

November 2003

GRIET doesn't answer. VERMEER keeps looking. Suddenly he starts pulling everything away, chair, table, bowls and boxes, all swept away. Until there is nothing between them, she stands alone, in the last patch of light.

CLOSE ON: VERMEER'S broad brush painting the first shadow in the bottom corner, bone black and burnt umber. Powerful strokes obliterating the pale ground.

GRIET reaches up on tiptoe to get a dish, white arm and neck at full stretch. CATHARINA sees her husband staring, spellbound.

She holds up the ribbons of her necklace for him to tie. Looks at him in the mirror as he does so; a seductive smile, an oh-so- casual adjustment of her bodice to reveal more of her magnificent bosom. Quite unaware he ties the ribbons and walks out.

MARIA THINS watches from the fireplace, puffing silently on her pipe. CATHARINA sees GRIET in the background of her reflection.

VERMEER mixes lead-white with crimson lake: pale and buttery- soft under his palette knife. His hand drizzling in more linseed oil, the paint grows richer and creamier.

The brush poised to paint. VERMEER looks over to GRIET by the window, looking out. Clears his throat.

She adjusts her position, seated, looking over her left shoulder, the light falling on her right cheek. Face enclosed by her cap, her mouth shut. She stares at the floor.

November 2003

Slowly she raises her eyes to meet his but can't hold his gaze. The brush still poised.

Her eyes waver and meet his again. His brush blanks out the downcast eyes in the painting. He lets out a sigh, almost a shudder of pleasure.

VERMEER'S face, intent, alight. His whole being involved in the act of painting: nothing else in the world.

The brush on the palette, stroking the canvas. Now that he has it, there is nothing tentative about his painting.

The shadow of GRIET'S eyebrow, the intersection of curves across and down. VERMEER'S eyes drinking in every detail.

VERMEER is working on the cheek.

GRIET pushes the long point back onto her shoulder, revealing her jaw and cheek. She swallows, feeling exposed. Her lips are pressed tight. Her eyes waver and meet his again.

He changes brushes, continues to paint.

GRIET strains to hold her twisted pose. VERMEER is staring at her again.

GRIET reaches up then stops, her hand protective on the white linen.

November 2003

GRIET drops her head.

In the painting behind her: The young woman, bare-headed, leans back in surrender, while the client and Madam, heads covered, press forward on her.

GRIET goes into the little storeroom. There is no catch on the door, no need for one.

There is a trunk of clothes in the corner; props for use in the paintings; cloths to cover the table; gentlemen's sashes; the trimmings from CATHARINA'S rich velvet gown. GRIET finds some strips of cloth and lays them in front of her.

She reaches up and unties her cap, releases an unruly mane of blonde hair.

She lifts one of the cloths to wrap round her hair, looks into the mirror. Sees a movement and turns to find him standing in the doorway.

Looking at her. Not at GRIET the Maid, but at her. The real, secret GRIET. Desire holding him transfixed in the doorway.

She returns his gaze, her hair tumbled round her face, lips parted, bold, liberated, naked.

The CHILDREN'S VOICES from downstairs. VERMEER backs away.

GRIET folds clothes into the tall wardrobe. The stiff blue bodice worn by the girl in the Pitcher painting. The yellow satin mantle, trimmed with fur.

CATHARINA sits by the fire with VAN RUIJVEN. MAERTGE and CORNELIA are working on an embroidery frame, though CORNELIA is far more interested in the conversation.

November 2003

CATHARINA offers him the sewing on her lap. He pretends a few dainty stitches, hands it back laughing.

CATHARINA falters, upset.

CATHARINA glances at the girls, wondering if she should send them out. They are bent studiously over their frame. GRIET stays dead still behind the wardrobe door.

GRIET presses her face against the cool, starched linen.

CATHARINA laughs as best she can.

VAN RUIJVEN takes a long draught of wine.

November 2003

He helps himself to another glass of wine. CATHARINA does her best to ignore his meaning.

GRIET listens in terror.

VAN RUIJVEN secretly gives CORNELIA a sip of wine. She screws her face up in disgust.

VAN RUIJVEN gives her a squeeze.

They giggle and whisper together, both looking over at GRIET. CATHARINA looks up and catches CORNELIA taking another sip. She is shocked, though she tries to laugh it off.

VAN LEEUWENHOEK gazes quizzically at GRIET'S strange turban-like head gear.

VAN LEEUWENHOEK is struck by the casual intimacy of this. GRIET is trembling with the strain of holding her twisted pose. VERMEER scowls at the painting.

November 2003

VAN LEEUWENHOEK wants to break the tension that thickens around the two of them.

VERMEER stabs a brush angrily towards a canvas propped on the table - the Concert painting.

A myriad of chalk lines going this way and that. Small blocks of colour dotted disjointedly over the canvas.

VERMEER goes out. VAN LEEUWENHOEK turns back to GRIET.

Gratefully GRIET moves. VAN LEEUWENHOEK looks at her painting. He is startled by what he sees. [We, like GRIET, do not see the painting] His eyes flick from her to the painting and back.

He hesitates, needing to warn her, wanting to be fair.

November 2003

GRIET frowns. He examines the painting again.

He looks at GRIET, his eyes kindly, concerned.

GRIET dips her head, but the head dress doesn't hide her face. She looks up again.

GRIET chops vegetables. A moment of reflection before she sweeps the pattern into the pot.

GRIET, utterly still in her pose, almost as if she were the painting. There is now a black drape behind her.

VERMEER sits at the easel, dissatisfied. Tries one brush after another, stands and stares at her, goes back to the painting.

GRIET is horrified. But what can she do? She licks her lips and opens them.

GRIET brings in a wine jug and glasses. Only MARIA THINS looks up, sharp-eyed.

November 2003

VERMEER is going through CATHARINA'S jewel box, searching for something. CATHARINA moves slowly, easing herself off the bed, already heavy with the new baby.

He brings over the box, settles on a low stool and massages her feet between his hands.

CATHARINA is dressed in her fine velvet. She stifles a yawn.

GRIET pours their wine, sets it in front of them.

He holds out her big pearl earrings, glossy white drops nesting in his hand. CATHARINA smiles, delighted by this attention.

CATHARINA swings round.

GRIET'S eyes meet VERMEER'S. She sees that he has found what he needs. That he is pitiless. MARIA THINS sees it too.

VERMEER is arranging the setting of The Concert. The Concert painting, half-covered, has progressed considerably. GRIET hurries in.

He knows exactly what she's talking about.

November 2003

He laughs at such a mundane excuse. But GRIET isn't laughing, she is angry.

Sometimes you paint without a model.

She wont give in.

Nor will he.

He insists that she look as he uncovers her painting. GRIET covers her mouth in horror. WE SEE only her reaction.

Oh. You looked inside me.

GRIET hurries along, her shawl pulled tight round her shoulders, head down.

The APOTHECARY smiles when he sees it is her.

The APOTHECARY'S expression changes. He is sharp-eyed, he can see trouble in her face. His quick fingers continue to shred dried leaves into a leather apron.

November 2003

There is more disappointment in his eyes than disapproval. GRIET takes his meaning.

She pulls coins from her pocket. The OLD MAN scans her face again, goes off grumbling, knowing something's wrong.

GRIET goes to pull her cap forward, her finger tip touches her ear and stops there.

GRIET looks at the tiny vial of oil, tips some onto a handkerchief and rubs it onto her earlobe.

She heats a needle in the candle flame.

Clutching the needle in trembling fingers she stares into the mirror from downstairs. Her frightened face reflected in the candlelight.

FOOTSTEPS on the stairs. Into the STUDIO below. GRIET hides the needle and vial. MARIA THINS comes up through the trap door, breathing hard. She gives GRIET a long searching look.

GRIET says nothing.

MARIA THINS' bony hand on the black cane trembles, for the first time she seems vulnerable, frightened even.

It makes her angry to be so helpless, begging a maid for help. She glares at GRIET.

November 2003

GRIET hangs up sheets in the courtyard. Strong arms grab her from behind, pinning her arms by her side. A voice whispers thick and hot in her ear:

GRIET struggles silently, terrified, but VAN RUIJVEN is far stronger.

GRIET writhes to get free, scared and angry.

He turns her round to face him, swathed in sheets.

His tone is leering but his sharp eyes miss nothing. He can read Griet's face exactly.

VAN RUIJVEN is disconcerted, angry, he did not expect this.

She looks away, face hidden by her cap. He pulls is back roughly. A grunt of satisfaction as his hand tangles in her hair.

He is right up against her again. She pushes him away, he grabs her wrists. GRIET writhes to get free, scared and angry. He holds both her wrists with one hand, yanks the chemise of her shoulder with the other.

He paws at her skirts, her legs give way and she starts to fall. He twists one arm behind her back, forcing her up again.

November 2003

GRIET'S eyes search desperately for something to stop him. In the shadow of the passage she sees someone watching.

CORNELIA. GRIET pleads with her eyes. CORNELIA returns her look, her face cat-like, impenetrable. She turns away slowly, deliberately, disappears. GRIET wants to cry.

VAN RUIJVEN is unbuckling himself, GRIET struggles harder, manages to free one arm, claw at his face. He snarls. They wrestle till he has both arms pinned again.

Breathing hard he crushes her against the copper, grotesque reflections swim in front of her.

She is coming along the corridor towards the back of the house. VAN RUIJVEN lets GRIET go, quickly straightens his clothing.

He steps out to meet CATHARINA, all smiles.

Cold dawn light. GRIET slides her finger through fine-ground rose madder, a red streak across the stone table. Her torn chemise waits to be mended.

GRIET pours water into the copper, every movement an effort, arms like lead. Someone grabs her from behind.

GRIET spins round, ready to fight - to find MAERTGE and the other CHILDREN all smiling at her. MAERTGE has a package which she hands over shyly.

November 2003

A perfectly innocent smile. With trembling hands GRIET unwraps her present: a child-made lace collar.

The CHILDREN clamour for her to put it on. She holds it up to her neck - there are bruises from where VAN RUIJVEN held her - and they admire her.

That tell-tale smirk. GRIET pulls off the collar.

GRIET is on her hands and knees clearing the grate. MARIA THINS comes in hurriedly.

She unlocks CATHARINA'S jewel box.

She thrusts the open box towards GRIET, who is still wiping the smuts from her hands. Reluctantly she takes the pearl earrings out of their velvet nest. The seconds seem to crawl.

VERMEER watches GRIET, her partner in this slow dance. She takes off her cap, puts on the turban. Rubs the oil of cloves onto her ear lobe. Heats the needle in a candle flame.

She holds out the earrings.

Her eyes widen at her own boldness. He opens his mouth to speak then says nothing.

He steps up to the chair and takes the pearls.

Mixing oil into lead-white, oozing creamily under the sharp knife.

November 2003

He touches her earlobe, she gasps. He rubs the soft flesh between his forefinger and thumb then pulls it taut and with his other hand pierces her skin with the needle. A scarlet globe of blood glistens on the white skin. He takes a breath, forces the twisted silver wire of the earring through the hole.

The pain is excruciating, her eyes brim with tears.

Laying on a grey ghost of paint among shadows, the under-layer of the pearl.

His fingers brush her jaw, gently trace the bruises on her neck. She closes her eyes, inhaling his smell.

A thick white clot of paint twisted off the brush in a moment for the highlight.

He blots the tears that spill down her cheek and rubs his wet thumb slowly along her lips, her open mouth.

Pale sable hairs across the crimson of her lips, a trail of white.

GRIET pushes her way through busy streets.

The benches are crowded, a jostling, careless press. Admiring catcalls and whistles follow GRIET as she makes her way through the DRINKERS.

PIETER'S back is turned, he doesn't see her approach. His FRIEND nudges him and moves away. PIETER stares in frank astonishment.

She takes him by the hand and leads him out.

A narrow alley behind the BEAST MARKET, the bellowing of CATTLE mixes into the background clatter. GRIET tugs PIETER after her, presses him against the wall. Pulls his face down to hers and kisses him passionately. He responds, bewildered but thrilled. She moves his hand to her backside, turning till she is against the wall. She closes her eyes. PIETER doesn't question his good fortune.

LATER:

PIETER watches as GRIET carefully adjusts her clothes, smoothes her hair under her white cap. He pulls out a long wavy strand and kisses it, joyfully intimate.

November 2003

She reties her cap. Her ear is bleeding a little.

He grabs her by the shoulders so she must face him.

She meets his eyes levelly, very still.

She puts a hand on his cheek, kisses him. Walks away.

He leans against the wall, head down.

GRIET drops the earrings in MARIA THINS' wrinkled hand. A whore and her madam.

CORNELIA watches from the bed, her cat-like eyes unblinking.

CLOSE ON: the raised lid of the harpsichord. GRIET cleans the studio, alone and silent. The Concert painting is on the easel, almost finished. The other - her painting - is propped against the wall, covered. She avoids them both.

VOICES are raised downstairs; an almighty row is brewing.

Feet tumbling up the stairs: CORNELIA'S little shoes leading, MARIA THINS' stick, CATHARINA slow and heavy.

November 2003

GRIET braces herself. The door crashes open, a tidal wave of anger and distress.

CORNELIA is snivelling, frightened by her MOTHER'S passion.

But, finding herself at last in the forbidden room, CATHARINA falls silent, afraid.

VERMEER is the last to enter, quietly, the eye of the storm. He meets GRIET'S eyes across the room.

CATHARINA recovers herself a little.

VERMEER makes a weary gesture.

CATHARINA flares up again.

A savage finger at GRIET.

CATHARINA {CONT'D)

She can't read! You know that?

MARIA THINS pulls forward a chair.

CATHARINA ignores her.

November 2003

VERMEER is by the easel, his accustomed place.

CATHARINA is laughing and crying. Sinks onto the chair in the middle of the room.

Is it true she wore my pearls?

VERMEER cannot answer. CATHARINA groans in anguish.

She heaves herself up and stands in front of The Concert painting, breathing heavily, staring. Then she bursts out laughing.

MARIA THINS laughs too, her dry, cracked laugh.

She points at the old hag in the Procuress painting.

CATHARINA blinks, turns round slowly to him. A wide, dangerous smile.

November 2003

VERMEER moves towards her slowly, cautiously. She stares at him with shining eyes, then quick as a snake, grabs a palette knife from the work table.

VERMEER faces her, arms wide, palms out.

Never taking his eyes from her he lifts down the Concert painting and puts the other on the easel. Tenderly lifts the cover. Everyone cranes to look. GRIET, behind the easel, can see only their reactions.

VERMEER looks oddly peaceful, a work achieved. MARIA THINS glances at GRIET, her lips a thin, bitter line, her eyes warning silence. CATHARINA'S face sags, mouth agape.

She gasps for breath. The words are torn from her.

Her words hang in the air: the truth.

Suddenly she lunges at the painting with the knife. But VERMEER is too quick for her, grabs her wrist so hard it hurts, she cries out.

He is blazing, his fury all the more terrifying for its quietness. She goes limp in his grasp and he lets her go.

CATHARINA backs away, finds CORNELIA to cling to. A single glance of hatred at GRIET.

GRIET has been waiting for this but even so it falls like a whiplash.

November 2003

Her eyes seek out VERMEER, although she can hear CATHARINA'S in- drawn hiss of fury. He is infinitely sad, infinitely distant.

Wearing her Sunday best clothes, GRIET takes her aprons and caps from the linen cupboard. CATHARINA'S yellow mantle hangs there, silky smooth and glowing.

GRIET'S hand runs along the rim of the silver bowl, a last glimpse of its multi-fractured reflections.

Carrying her small bundle, GRIET walks through the series of rooms. TANNEKE stands framed in the Cooking Kitchen doorway, arms folded. Left to manage alone again.

GRIET goes up the stairs and along the corridor to the STUDIO. The door is shut fast. She stands outside listening. Silence.

VERMEER sits on his painting stool, every nerve strained to listen, wanting her to come in but unable to call her. His painting hand is balled tight as a fist.

He hears GRIET'S footsteps leaving.

VERMEER is left alone in the studio, a blank canvas waiting on the easel behind him.

GRIET walks away from the house, her bundle under her arm. She wont look back.

VAN RUIJVEN sits alone in his cabinet with the painting of GRIET. It gives him no pleasure, after all. He draws a curtain over it.

GRIET walks across the great Market Square. Other people carry on with their everyday lives but the sound is muffled and distant; she is lost in her own world.

She stops on the brick star at the centre of the square.

November 2003

GRIET sits in the late afternoon sun near the back doorway, finishing her headdress. Her wedding dress is laid out on the bed, other wedding preparations visible in the background.

TANNEKE appears at the door, out of breath.

A moment's silence as they size each other up.

TANNEKE nods, taking it in.

She searches in her apron pocket and brings out a small cloth wrapped package. She hands it to GRIET.

She stops abruptly. GRIET holds the package gingerly, not daring to look at it.

TANNEKE {CONT'D)

Best be off then.

She turns away, her face working.

Left alone GRIET uncurls the hand gripping the package. She takes a deep breath then undoes the layers of cloth, the familiar blue of the turban. And there, nestled in the folds of fabric, lie the pearl earrings.

November 2003

GRIET holds up one pale globe, fathoming its meaning, her eyes shining with pent up tears.

FADE TO BLACK:

FADE UP ON:

A very slow pull back reveals the real painting: Girl With A Pearl Earring.

Cracked and aged but no less beautiful or immediate. A girl's face as brim full of emotion as if she were looking at us now.

November 2003