TIL

F O R Y O U R C O N S I D E R A T I O N 2 0 1 1
The
BEST SCREENPLAY
Abi Morgan

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THE IRON LADY
by
Abi Morgan

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Author's Note:
References to "PRESENT" mean the undifferentiated years of the
recent past (not 2011).

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INT. SHOP. NR CHESTER SQUARE. LONDON. PRESENT. DAWN.
The HUM of a large refrigerator just audible over the
sound of Indian music -
MARGARET, briefly glimpsed pondering cartons of milk.
The electronic PEEP of the cash til.
A man on a mobile phone pushes past MARGARET, who takes
her place second in the queue.
The female shopkeeper piles newspapers on the counter in
front of MARGARET. Distracted by images of the bombed
hotel on the TV, she hesitates for beat.
MAN BEHIND THE COUNTER
One forty-nine please.
MARGARET
How much is the milk?
MAN BEHIND THE COUNTER
Forty-nine pence.
(taking the change)
Thank you.
MARGARET turns to leave, jostled by a tall young man
wired into an ipod.
EXT. STREET. CHESTER SQUARE. LONDON. PRESENT. DAWN.
MARGARET heads down the busy street, shopping bag in
hand.
INT. KITCHEN. CHESTER SQUARE. LONDON. PRESENT. DAY.
MARGARET sits at breakfast with her husband DENIS,
sipping tea. DENIS butters his toast. MARGARET shakes her
head.
MARGARET
Too much. Much too much butter.
DENIS
I like butter.
MARGARET
Milk's gone up.

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The Iron Lady - FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT - 8th April 11 (c) Pathe Productions
2
MARGARET reaches for a jug, pouring milk into it, sliding
it down on a table.
MARGARET (CONT'D)
49p a pint.
DENIS
Good grief! We'll have to
economise. I suppose we could
always sell the car.
(chuckles)
Or take in paying guests!
He scoops up the newspaper and glances towards the door -
DENIS (CONT'D)
Watch out. She's on the prowl.
MARGARET looks beyond DENIS to a a sense of growing
commotion. A concerned POLICE GUARD coming up the stairs
meeting JUNE [early 60's] MARGARET's carer, along a
distant corridor, steady on the approach.
MARGARET
(to DENIS)
Eat your egg.
JUNE smiles with visible relief on seeing MARGARET, now
sitting tapping open her egg.
JUNE
Goodness! There you are.
JUNE's look of quiet concern.
MARGARET
Yes.
MARGARET eats her egg.
MARGARET (CONT'D)
Here we are.
But for JUNE, she is entirely alone.
INT. CORRIDOR CHESTER SQUARE. PRESENT. DAY.
WHISPERING-
JUNE
I don't understand how it
happened, how could she possibly
have got out? It's very very
important -
MARGARET looks out of the kitchen. Her POV down the
corridor of JUNE and the POLICEMAN and a CLEANER.

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The Iron Lady - FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT - 8th April 11 (c) Pathe Productions
3
JUNE (CONT'D)
Please just make it really clear.
Who's on after you?
POLICE GUARD
Dixon.
MARGARET slips away.
INT.HALL. CHESTER SQUARE. DAY.
MARGARET hurries through the hall.
INT. BEDROOM. HOUSE. CHESTER SQUARE. LONDON. PRESENT.DAY.
A wide cupboard-
MARGARET's eyes move back along the rail in front of her,
her fingers touch hanger after hanger of brown tweed and
grey twill.
JUNE goes over to the curtains, pulling them back,
letting in the sunlight-
JUNE
Beautiful day. Oh, you've made a
start. Carol's coming soon, I'll
get some bags. Anything you want
to go to Mark, I'll bring up a
suitcase for it.
The smell of smoke lingering. Suddenly DENIS' hand
reaches across, wavering between jackets of brown tweed
and grey twill-
He reaches for a suit.
MARGARET
No no no no. The grey.
DENIS (O.S)
You sure?
The swipe of a clothes brush, briefly seen, drawn across
one sleeve-
MARGARET
Yes.
Distant footsteps-
MARGARET (CONT'D)
...Definitely the grey.
JUNE returns, oblivious-

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The Iron Lady - FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT - 8th April 11 (c) Pathe Productions
4
DENIS (O.S)
Righty ho. Boss knows best.
JUNE spies the newspaper, sees the photos of twisted
carnage on the front page.
DENIS (CONT'D)
Don't let her take my paper away.
JUNE reaches one hand out to scoop it up in passing-
MARGARET
Oh, I haven't had a chance to look
at that yet, dear.
JUNE
Sorry.
JUNE hesitates, leaves the newspaper resting on the bed
as she heads off with the suit on a hanger.
DENIS
Atta-girl.
DENIS smiles as he stands in the bathroom doorway,
soaping his face with shaving cream-
He hums to himself as he resumes shaving until-
DENIS (O.S) (CONT'D)
Damn.
MARGARET looks up, DENIS has nicked his chin-
MARGARET
Blot it...Blot it..
She turns, sees JUNE, through the ajar door, standing in
the corridor, looking back at her
JUNE
Sorry ?
INT. DRAWING ROOM. CHESTER SQUARE. LONDON. PRESENT. DAY.
A comfortable drawing room, filled with the photographs
and memorabilia of a former political life.
MARGARET stands by the window, half a dozen of DENIS'
ties in her hand. Pulling back the net curtain, MARGARET
peers out-
Two POLICEMAN stand down below next to a Police BMW car.
They are lost in conversation, pointing to the door,
clearly concerned.

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The Iron Lady - FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT - 8th April 11 (c) Pathe Productions
5
One POLICE MAN nods to the other, a sense of the changing
of the guard as he drives off in the BMW.
SUDDENLY from behind-
DENIS
Now look what you've done. Are
they to keep the loonies out or
you in?
MARGARET eyes DENIS, looking at her with wry smile -
DENIS (CONT'D)
I'll be off then.
MARGARET
Wear your scarf. There's a chill
out there.
Suddenly looming over her and grinning down as if at the
top of a tunnel SUSIE, MARGARET's personal secretary
carrying a cardboard box.
SUSIE
Good morning Lady Thatcher. Are
you alright ?
(concerned)
How are you feeling ?
MARGARET
I'm fine, thank you Susie.
SUSIE
I've just been reading about the
bombings.
MARGARET
Yes. Frightful.
SUSIE's mobile goes off. She fumbles in her bag to
switch it off.
SUSIE
Sorry.
SUSIE (CONT'D)
These are the books for you to
sign. I brought as many as I could
find. Shall we go through your
appointments?
MARGARET looks at her still nonplussed.
SUSIE (CONT'D)
We said we'd go through them
today.

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The Iron Lady - FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT - 8th April 11 (c) Pathe Productions
6
MARGARET nods-
MARGARET
Yes, of course, dear. Today.
SUSIE
The invitation has come from
Downing Street for the unveiling
of your portrait. I'll put it on
the mantelpiece, and there's an
invitation from Lord Armstrong for
lunch on the first Friday of next
month.
The murmur of SUSIE's voice, a kind of white noise-
SUSIE (O.S.) (CONT'D)
I said no because you've got a
concert that afternoon but if
you'd like to..?
SILENCE-
SUSIE(O.S) (CONT'D)
....It looks like a very
interesting programme.
MARGARET's listens, oddly distracted-
MARGARET
What are they playing?
SUSIE looks at her momentarily at a loss then scrabbles
back through the diary-
SUSIE
I think they said Rogers and
Hammerstein.
`SHALL WE DANCE' FROM `THE KING & I" SUDDENLY BREAKING
THROUGH AS IF FROM ANOTHER TIME CARRYING INTO....
INT. SADLER'S WELLS. LONDON. 1950. NIGHT.
An orchestra in full flight-
A programme for THE KING & I on a woman's lap. A man's
hand reaches in and her hands slips into his.
INT. DRAWING ROOM. CHESTER SQUARE. LONDON. PRESENT. DAY.
Whilst SUSIE shuffles through the arrangements at the
desk in the background, MARGARET stands at the window.

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The Iron Lady - FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT - 8th April 11 (c) Pathe Productions
7
MARGARET
Silly man.
MARGARET's gaze, seeing DENIS just visible in the street
below. He looks up, smiles,
MARGARET (CONT'D)
He hasn't got his scarf on.
MARGARET throws DENIS a half wave. In return, he twirls
his umbrella and does a couple of steps of a Chaplin walk
for her benefit before passing the Postman who is
shuffling through his letters as he approaches the front
step, below.
SUSIE looks on with quiet concern.
INT. DRAWING ROOM. CHESTER SQUARE. LONDON. PRESENT. DAY.
MARGARET' is at her desk signing a stack of her memoirs,
The Downing Street Years.
MARGARET opens one, reaching for a pen. The curve of inky
handwriting as she begins to sign them, Margaret
Thatcher.
Close on the swoop of the pen. Without missing a beat,
she writes the name Margaret Roberts...
The insistent blare of an air raid siren from another
time cuts through -
INT. BACK PARLOUR. SHOP. GRANTHAM. 1943. DUSK.
The rumble of an approaching air raid overhead-
The STEADY SHAKE of the table legs all around pulls out
to reveal-
BEATRICE ROBERTS [early 50's] austere, crouched next to
MARGARET under a wide kitchen table along with ALFRED
ROBERTS [early/mid 50's] a cumbersome man and MURIEL
ROBERTS [21 yrs]. The sound of an air-raid siren.
ALFRED
Did someone cover the butter?
All look at one another in a panic.
MARGARET
I'll go.
Suddenly MARGARET scrabbles out from under the table, all
look on with horror-

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