THE SALESMAN: A TALE OF LOVE LOST — Short Script Treatment

THE SALESMAN: A TALE OF LOVE LOST — Short Script Treatment

Logline

A modern couple uncover a forgotten handwritten account hidden in their new London home, revealing the brief, tender connection between a Cornish ex‑soldier turned travelling salesman and a lonely woman still living in the shadow of the Second World War.

Story Treatment (Short Version)

Present Day – The Discovery

A young couple move into an old London house. While researching its history, they find a fragile handwritten manuscript hidden among old papers. As they begin reading, the film transitions into early‑1950s London.

1950s Story

Post‑War London

London is still scarred by the Blitz: bomb sites, missing houses, patched brickwork. Into this landscape walks THE SALESMAN, late twenties, Cornish, carrying a heavy case of brushes. He wears his old Army boots and greatcoat. Through voice‑over, he explains his life: demobbed, drifting, selling brushes to keep moving and avoid attachment.

The Salesman at Work

We see the rhythm of his trade — knock, smile, chat, demonstrate. His charm masks emotional damage and survivor’s guilt from D‑Day. A woman teases him about his “London accent,” revealing his Cornish roots.

The Damaged Street

He enters a street devastated by bombing. The ruins trigger a flicker of wartime memory. He pushes it away and continues. Business is good. Then he reaches HER HOUSE — one of the few that survived.

The First Meeting

She is early forties, reserved, intelligent, living alone. She buys several brushes but is more interested in him than the products. She invites him back that evening “for tea.” He accepts.

Act Two – The Evening

Tea and the Photograph

She has prepared a simple meal. A photograph of her parents hangs on the wall; something about her father’s posture seems unusual. She explains her father died at Dunkirk, and her mother never recovered.

The 1939 Wine

She opens a bottle given to her parents before the war — untouched for years. Opening it becomes symbolic: releasing memories long sealed.

Her War

She describes her wartime experience: sirens, shelters, rationing, neighbours lost, youth stolen. She believes she “missed everything.”

Her Confession

She admits she has never been with a man. He reassures her. They share laughter, tenderness, and go upstairs.

Act Three – The Bedroom

His Scars

She sees the scars across his back — shrapnel, wounds, “other things.” She touches them gently, accepting what others avoided.

Her Secret

He notices her extremely short neck, inherited from her father. She fears it will repel him. He smiles: “You’ve seen my back.” They laugh. Both have revealed vulnerabilities. They embrace, finding comfort rather than passion.

The Nightmare

Later, he dreams of Normandy — fragmented, chaotic memories of friends who died. She sleeps peacefully beside him.

Act Four – The Morning After

Names in the Night

She tells him he spoke names in his sleep. He explains they were friends killed on D‑Day. She understands — her mother asked the same unanswerable question: why some return and others don’t.

The Choice

As he prepares to leave for work, she quietly says: “You could stay.” He imagines a life with her — Cornwall, companionship, peace — but cannot risk attachment. “I’ve got work,” he says. Neither believes he will return.

Goodbye

They embrace. She whispers, “Go on, Cornwall.” He walks away. At the end of the street, he turns. She raises her hand. He raises his. He turns the corner.

Act Five – Months Later

He passes near her street. He tells himself not to go. Yet he finds himself there. She appears, sweeping her step with one of his brushes. He watches from a distance. She may or may not see him. He does not approach. He walks away. It is the last time he sees her.

Epilogue – Years Later

The salesman’s voice is older. He reflects on the woman, the night, the chance he could not take. War taught him how to survive, endure, keep moving — but never how to stay.

Return to Present Day

The couple finish reading. In a cupboard they find an old brush, worn smooth. They stand quietly, holding hands, aware they are living in the space where the forgotten story unfolded.

Fade out.