Author's Note: I Capture the Castle is a wonderful novel by Dodie Smith that should not be missed. This story is a (rather poor) continuation of that story. I hope, however, that you enjoy it. Please review!

Disclaimer: I could never hope to measure up to Dodie Smith.

LIFE AFTER THE CASTLE

CHAPTER THREE

"A movie? At Scoatney Hall?" Cassandra could only repeat Thomas's words. It was as if her mind couldn't process their meaning.

"Precisely. Now, do you have any food around? I'm feeling rather hungry..." Not waiting for a reply, Thomas directed himself toward the kitchen. Cassandra, who was still stunned at everything that had happened in the last five minutes, simply followed and mumbled that she'd make some tea.

Upon opening the kitchen cabinets, Thomas exclaimed, "Goodness, these are all empty!" After a few more futile seconds of rummaging, Thomas finally came upon a lonely box of biscuits. It was liberally coated with dust and had obviously been there a long time. "I say, Cassandra, you haven't been taking care of yourself properly. I do believe these are Father's biscuits."

"Nonsense..." replied Cassandra, though she had a strong suspicion that Thomas was right about the biscuits. "I just haven't found the time to go to the village. I was planning on going tomorrow..." she lied weakly.

"I shushesht you go ash shoon ash poshible," said Thomas with his mouth full, crumbs tumbling out with every word. "Ugh... thesh bishcuitsh are terrible!" Despite his words, Thomas did not slow down his eating pace and continued to eat the entire contents of the tin box.

Cassandra, meanwhile, focused on making tea and collecting her thoughts. She had never dreamed that Scoatney Hall would become a movie location. The fact that Stephen and Simon had come back for this reason seemed more unlikely than any of the scenarios she had imagined.

By the time she had finished pouring a cup of tea for Thomas, she was ready to ask the thousands of questions that had rushed to her brain. "Thomas... why on earth are they filming a movie at Scoatney Hall? I mean, there are so many other places. Why Scoatney Hall in particular?"

Thomas, who seemed more inclined to speak after his snack, took a sip of tea and said, "Apparently Stephen wanted the movie to be here. He told the director that it would be the perfect setting."

Cassandra wrinkled her brows. "But why would the director listen to Stephen? I know how famous Stephen is, but surely it is not his place to find a location. It must be somebody else's responsibility, mustn't it?"

Thomas simply shrugged in response. "I don't see who would have more of a right to choose the setting. After all, it's Stephen's story."

"What? Stephen wrote the story?" By this point, Cassandra felt like an especially dim parrot.

"Yes, he wrote the script. It's the first time he's tried writing, or so I'm told. I wonder if he's any good at it... Probably not. Let's just hope he hasn't plagiarized the whole thing like he used to with your poems..."

Cassandra's shoulders tensed. "How do you know about the poems he gave me?"

"Oh come on, Cassandra, don't be so naive." Cassandra flinched at the word. She could still remember Simon accusing her of being "consciously naive." She hated to prove him right. "Everyone knew about Stephen's poems. Such a pity he never applied himself and tried to write something original, although I suppose he's making up for lost time. Anyway, I don't much care for movie scripts. I find most of them very shallow and dull. The dialogues hardly promote character development. No, I'm much more interested in the actual mechanics of filming..."

Thomas went on to say how he found the process of capturing a sequence of events and being able to project this sequence onto a screen "absolutely fascinating." Cassandra, however, was much more interested in the details of the shoot than in the particulars of the filming process. "Do you know when filming is to start?"

"Oh probably any day now. I saw some of the equipment being driven to Scoatney when I came here. I'm sure it'll all make quite a stir in the village."

"I'm sure it will," agreed Cassandra.

OoOoO

Sitting at his desk, Stephen reread his script for the twentieth time, trying to make some last minute revisions. At this point his nerves had reached an all-time high, and his spirits had reached an all-time low. To Stephen, his script was a disaster. Every word he had written now seemed wrong and out of place. There was an overall lack of pace to the whole story; some scenes were too sappy and dramatic while others were painfully dull. He had no idea how to salvage the piece; it was beyond repair.

Tossing his script, Stephen let out an exasperated sigh and buried his head in his hands. "What am I doing?" he mumbled to himself. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Writing a script had seemed like such a wonderfully exciting idea at first. Stephen had very quickly tired of the standard boy-meets-girl, or rather girl-meets-boy, storylines that had defined his career. The stories were the same, the characters were the same, the dialogues were the same... his movies were so similar that they had started to blend together in his mind. Stephen longed to do something different, something original. Writing his own script was the perfect solution.

Stephen glanced at the packet of papers he had thrown aside. Why was he so frustrated and discouraged now? Only a month ago, when he had finally finished writing, he had believed his work to be absolutely fantastic. It had everything anybody could want: adventure, humor, even a little romance. The director Stephen had spoken to had loved it. For once in his life, Stephen felt he had something that he could truly be proud of.

But now, as the moment of truth drew near, his confidence began to falter. He could see the numerous flaws in his script, and he was overwhelmed by the prospect of trying to fix them. It was too late, anyway, to change anything. Shooting would start any day. Stephen felt completely defeated.

A knock sounded on Stephen's door, and he called "come in" without much enthusiasm. Simon's head popped into the room, "Hard at work, I see. How is the revision process going?"

"Terribly," replied Stephen. He had reached the stage where denial was pointless.

Simon entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"No, I suppose it could be worse... but it could be so much better! I know I could do better, I just don't know how."

Stephen didn't know how else to express his feelings, but Simon seemed to understand. "What you need," Simon began, "is some help. You are, after all, only a beginner in the literary field. You need the input of a professional, someone with years of experience..."

"Who did you have in mind?" asked Stephen in a hoarse voice, but they both knew the answer.

Well, there's another chapter. I found this one a challenge to write; don't know why, though. Anyway, hope you guys liked it. As always, thanks to the reviewers. (By the way, I realized how confusing the repeating Ooo's were only AFTER I posted the last chapter. I've now changed the format of the scene breaks. Sorry for the confusion.)