- Lights up! - Beginners, please!
- Your five-minute call, sir. - Places.
Places. Everyone to their places.
Sh. Quiet, everyone.
Opening nights? I love opening nights.
- How are you? Good to see you. - Good evening, Charles.
- Sir Herbert, how are you? - This is my wife.
- Oh, Lady Herbert. - How do you do?
May I give you a peck?
One of Mr Barrie's finest?
Oh, that genius Scotsman has done it again.
It's the best thing I've produced in 25 years.
I already have investors interested back home in New York.
- See you on Broadway! -
First positions, people.
Standing by, please, ladies and gentlemen.
If you could take your opening positions, please.
Beginners, please take your opening positions.
Audience are coming in. Standing by.
- Good audience. - Sorry?
Good audience tonight.
OK. That's great, thank you. How much longer?
Um, ten minutes, sir.
I love opening nights.
I want to dance with your wife at the after-party.
- Oh, my goodness. - Good evening, Mr Frohman.
- How are you, John? - Very well.
It's the best thing that I've produced in 25 years.
- Hello, George. How are you? - Healthy and wealthy, I see.
You've rearranged a holiday for me and I won't forget it.
- For you, Charles, anything. - You won't regret it.
I'm sure.
- Have you got the tickets? - They're in my pocket.
- There's Mrs Barrie. - Oh, Mr and Mrs Snow.
We were so hoping to speak with your husband before the show.
- Have you seen him? - I'm not sure where he is, actually.
We do miss seeing you on stage. You were so wonderful.
Yes, well, it's been some time now. Are you right to find your seat?
Oh, yes, yes.
See you at the party, then.
Excuse me. Could you find Mr Barrie
and remind him that they're doing his play this evening.
- Yes, ma'am. - Thank you.
Let's close the doors.
Really, I mustn't inconvenience you in this way.
I can wait quite well in the shop.
'Tis no inconvenience. The shop is chilly. And there is a fire here.
Really, you are uncommonly good.
Sorry, sir.
Mrs Barrie wanted me to remind you that the play's begun.
- Though I imagine you know that. - They hate it.
- Sir? - It's like a dentist's office out there. Why?
- I wouldn't say they hate it, sir. - What do you think? Do you like it?
- I've just been hired here, sir. - Yes or no? I'm not bothered.
- I'm not really qualified to... - Do you like it? Is it crap?
- Crap, sir? - Go on, say it. Just say it.
It's shite, isn't it? Go on. Say it.
- Don't know if I'm... - "It's bull's pizzle, Mr Barrie." Go on, say it.
- It's bull's pizzle, Mr Barrie. - I knew it.
- No, I haven't even seen it. - I knew it. Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Might I knock a tune, milord, for a moment?
- I'm an old man... -
...and I've seen few of the sights.
Absolute rubbish from start to finish.
Yes, I found it fearfully dull.
Say goodbye to your investment, old boy.
Good to see you. My apologies.
We'll get them with the next one, Charles, I promise.
- Of course we will, James. - I know you put a lot into this one.
A fortune, James, but I am fortunate because I can afford to lose a fortune.
- Can you? - No, I can't. How are you?
- Arthur. - James.
You were sorely missed at the last club meeting.
Was I?
We were beginning to wonder which is your hobby, writing or cricket.
You wanted to speak with Mr Barrie, didn't you?
Oh, yes, but we shouldn't interrupt them, should we?
I don't see why not.
If you ask me, the problem lies in our batting order.
- James. - Hello, darling.
You remember Mr and Mrs Snow, don't you?
- Mrs Snow. - Mr Barrie.
Mr Snow.
The Snows have been waiting to meet with you all evening.
- Oh, yes. - Is that right?
Your play this evening, it was remarkable, wasn't it?
Was it?
Well, thank you. That's very kind of you. I'm glad you liked it.
How did you feel it went?
- I think I can do better. - Really?
- Mary? Hello? - Yes, James?
I'm headed off for the park if you'd like to join me. It's a beautiful morning.
You'll be working, won't you?
Perhaps, yes.
I'll let you to your work then.
- Morning, Mr Barrie. - Morning, Emma.
- Have a good day, sir. - And you.
That's it. Go on, boy. Go get it, boy.
That's right. Good boy. Grab it. Good.
Who do you belong to? Come on, boy. Come on.
Excuse me, sir, you're standing on my sleeve.
Am I? So sorry.
I might point out you're lying under my bench.
I have to, I'm afraid.
I've been put in a dungeon by the evil Prince George.
I'm sorry if it bothers you.
Well, if you're trapped in the dungeon, there isn't much to be done now, is there?
Perhaps I could slide a key to you through the bars.
I wouldn't risk it, sir. The evil Prince George has tortured many men.
I'm sorry. Is he bothering you, sir?
My brother can be an extremely irritating sort of person.
Aha, Prince George, I gather.
I understand you are the horrible tyrant who imprisoned this unfortunate wretch.
I'm not horrible really, but a firm ruler, yes. Kind and tolerant.
And what precisely is... What did you say your name was?
- Michael. - What precisely is Michael's crime?
- He's my younger brother. - Ah.
- Fair enough. Sorry, lad. Cannot free you. - That's all right.
- Do you mind us playing with your dog? - No. Go on.
This is Jack, second in line to the throne and that one's Michael. He's only five.
And I'm in prison for it.
- I'm so sorry. Are my boys bothering you? - We're not bothering him, Mum.
Michael, darling, come out from under there.
I can't. I'm in prison.
Oh, I see.
JM Barrie. Pleased to meet you.
JM Barrie, the author? A pleasure. Sylvia Llewelyn Davies.
- Are you a writer? - I am.
He's a playwright, Jack. Quite a famous one, at that.
- I apologize. I imagine you're writing. - No. Not at all.
- Where's Peter? - What have you written, Mr Barrie?
Well, currently, I make my living entertaining princes and their courts
with my trained bear, Porthos.
If you command your brother, Peter, to join us,
I am willing, Prince George, to give you just such a performance
in exchange for the freedom of this prisoner, of course.
- Very well. - Very well.
Now
I want you to pay particular attention to the teeth.
Some unscrupulous trainers will show you a bear whose teeth have all been pulled,
while other cowards will force the brute into a muzzle.
Only the true master would attempt these tricks without either measure of safety.
- What did you bring me over here for? - Peter.
This is absurd. It's just a dog.
Come on, darling.
- "Just a dog"? "Just"? -
Porthos, don't listen to him.
Porthos dreams of being a bear
and you want to dash those dreams by saying he's "just a dog"?
What a horrible, candle-snuffing word.
That's like saying, "He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man."
Or, "That's not a diamond, it's just a rock."
"Just."
Fine then. Turn him into a bear. If you can.
Peter, where are your manners?
With those eyes, my bonny lad, I'm afraid you'd never see it.
However, with just a wee bit of imagination,
I can turn around right now and see...
the great bear, Porthos.
Dance with me.
Thank you. I don't think I've ever seen a performance quite like it.
We're here every day, and the bear is always more than happy to perform.
Well, perhaps we'll see you here tomorrow then.
Perhaps.
- Peter, jump up please, darling. Quick. - Bye.
Bye.
- Peter, didn't you enjoy that? - I've seen better.
Well, Michael wanted the bear kept prisoner with him,
and Peter insisted that Michael was hardly a prisoner
and Porthos simply wasn't a bear at all.
I do very much hope to see them tomorrow.
- What's her name? - Sylvia. Um...
Mrs... something Davies.
Llewelyn Davies?
- You know her? - I know who she is, of course.
Why, she's a du Maurier, for heaven's sake.
Her father was the artist. Her brother's the actor.
And there was something... tragic that happened with her husband.
Oh, yes. He died.
Cancer of the jaw, I believe.
That's horrible.
Yes. Apparently, he left her with four boys and no income to speak of.
If it wasn't for her mother's help...
James.
- We should have them to dinner. - Should we?
Absolutely. I've always wanted to meet Madam du Maurier.
Why, she knows practically everyone there is worth knowing.
- What are you writing about? - Oh.
Nothing of any great consequence.
I can't write.
Have you ever kept a journal?
Ever tried your hand at writing a play?
Well, then how do you know?
I know. That's all.
I see. Where's your mother today and the rest of the boys?
Home. Mother's got a bit of a chest cold.
I'm sure everyone would be happy to see you though. One afternoon.
I should leave you to your writing.
Peter.
I'll see you later then.
Why didn't you tell me, Charles? You knew it wasn't any good.
Why didn't you tell me. James? You knew it wasn't any good. Hm?
I took an extended lease on the theater, keeping the actors on.
- I don't have another play. - I'm sure you will.
- Won't you? - We'll see.
I need you to sign for the storage, Mr Frohman.
- Lower. - Easy does it. Take your time.
It was never meant to be taken seriously.
You know what happened, James? They changed it.
- They changed what? - The critics.
They made it important.
Hm?
What's it called?
- "Play." - "Play."
Bang, bang, bang!
Bang!
Return the boy to us, you nasty Injun.
Our people teach boy Indian ways, make him great warrior.
Our chief, Running Nose, never let him go.
Bang, bang, bang!
Me wounded, Peter. Time's short.
You go. Spread wings and soar like eagle above enemy.
Fly back to our chief. Tell her of my brave defeat.
That's crazy. Indians can't fly.
Of course they can. Go on, go on, go on.
Listen to us, boy. This Injun kidnapped you.
Not true. We kidnap no one. You lost boy.
I teach you ways of the brave. I take you as my own son.
You are not my father.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
- I've got him! - Let me go!
- Stop it, you two. - Ooh, we are awful, aren't we?
- I'm warning you. - Oh, I'm scared.
Of course, you had a bit of fun for a change.
- Stop it, you two. Get off! - Don't.
- Jack! - Stop it!
- Get off, George! - Peter.
- I'm terribly sorry. - No, it wasn't your fault.
I'm afraid it might have been.
To be honest, I'm just happy you got him to join in the game.
Oh, yes, I was a tremendous success.
Mr Barrie, it's more than I've been able to achieve.
Peter's a different boy since his father died.
You know, I don't think he's even had a good cry about it.
Well, grief affects us all in different ways, doesn't it?
Yes, it does.
Oh, by the way, my wife would like to invite you and the boys over to dinner.
Your mother as well.
Oh.
How kind. That would be lovely.
Well...
Don't you all look lovely in your little suits?
And, Mrs du Maurier, what a shame it is that we've not met until this evening.
How kind of you to say so.
Not at all. I can't tell you how many times I've been to a charity or a social event
and seen your name listed among the organizers.
It's the very thing I would love to do myself
- if I could just find the time. -
My problem is in finding the time to do everything else.
At the moment I am running two households.
Sylvia believes she can get by without a housekeeper.
Mother.
My house is quite large enough for us all,
- but the idea of living with me seems... - Not now, please, mother.
- We help her keep the house in order. - Don't interrupt, George.
- Where did you get your manners? - Sorry, Grandmother.
Mr Barrie, I understand you've become playmates of my grandchildren.
- Oh, they indulge me, really. - On the contrary.
The other day we took to an exploration of darkest Africa in our garden.
But Mr Barrie was taken ill by the bite of a... What was it?
Tsetse fly. Quite horrible.
Yes, and he swelled to the size of a hippopotamus.
Fingers like sausages.
And we had to float in him down the river like he was a great bloated raft.
But the fishing was good, wasn't it?
James.
Please.
- Bye. - Thank you so much.
- Lovely evening. - Thank you. Bye.
- Good night. - Good night.
Well, that was a disaster.
Painful. Utterly painful to see.
I don't know what you mean. I had a lovely time.
Oh, James, please.
"My problem is in finding the time to do everything else."
- I never felt so judged in my life. - Judged? How do you mean?
A grown man, for heaven's sake,
playing all day long with children?
In any case, I hardly think they'll be the social contact we'd hoped for.
I hadn't really thought of them that way. I just enjoy their company.
He's been a good friend to us, Mother.
Yes. But what does that mean? Hm?
Surely you don't intend...
...to keep spending your afternoons with those children, do you?
And so today, ladies and gentlemen,
using only the wind and his own physical strength,
George Llewelyn Davies shall test the very limits of the atmosphere
using his tethered craft. Go on, boy.
- Go on, George. - You're going to break it, George.
- George, stop! - I just need a bit more speed.
I want to do it.
Hold off a bit, George. I think it's in need of a tail.
Oh, wait.
- Here. James, this will do. - That's a good idea.
- No, it's not heavy enough. - I want to do it.
- You coming, Peter? - Porthos!
Lt'll work this time.
Porthos, give us your bell. That's good.
- Michael? - Yeah?
- Now, would you like to give it a go? - Yes, please.
- Oh, he can't run fast enough. - Of course he can.
- Let him try, Jack. - Now, George, you hold the kite.
George.
Come on, boys, let's go back up to the top. Come on, Peter.
Right, George, hold it up. Darling, you've got to run now. Ready? Ready?
- Run! Run, Michael! - Run!
Oh.
- Oh, I told you this wasn't going to work. - I don't think he's fast enough.
It's not going to work if no one believes in him.
- Now, give him a chance. - Michael, go back to your starting position.
- Come on, darling, try again. - George, you take the kite.
Now this time, I don't want a flea's breath of doubt. We must get that kite in the air.
Right. Look, I think I feel a bit more breeze. Are you ready, Michael?
- You can do it, Michael. - You've got to run. Run, Michael, run.
- Run! - That's it!
Yes! He did it!
Keep running! Keep running!
What are you writing about now?
Oh, just making notes.
I'm never really certain what they're about until I've read them over later.
Something about the kite?
Now, why do you ask that?
I don't know.
If I were a writer I think I could tell a whole story about flying the kite today.
Perhaps you should then. That's a fantastic idea. Why not give it a try?
I hope you haven't been talking about anything too serious with this one.
No. Talking a bit of silliness really.
Can we have him for supper?
Have him to stay for supper, Michael. We're not cannibals.
You are welcome, you know.
Sylvia. Mr Barrie.
Where have you been?
Flying a kite, Mother, and having a wonderful time.
I'm sorry. I didn't know you were coming this evening.
No? Well, apparently you forgot then.
- I brought some supper along for us all. - You didn't need to do that.
Well, there's no food in the house, is there?
Really. You don't need to wait till the cupboard is bare.
Please, Mother. Come on, darlings.
Wipe feet. There's been enough tracking round here.
George, I thought you said you were going to help your mother take care of the house.
Coat, Michael, please. Yes.
- And... coat hanger. Good. - Will we see you tomorrow?
No. You're going to be helping round the house tomorrow.
Mother, there is absolutely no need for this.
You can't do everything yourself.
Look at you. You're horribly flush. You're wearing yourself out.
Thank you for a lovely day, James. Excuse me, Mother.
So from tomorrow, we're going to have some discipline around here.
And not one of you will escape.
- Good evening, Mr Barrie. - Good evening, Sarah.
- Good evening, Mr Barrie. - Good evening, Emma.
You missed supper.
Perhaps I'll have something later. I have a bit of writing I wanted to do.
Are you sure? It was a lovely meal. Duck.
Sarah let Emma cook this evening.
Is that right? Listen, what would you think of loaning Emma out to the Davies
for the occasional evening?
They don't actually have a cook.
I take it Mrs Davies enjoyed the meal that she had here?
I imagine she could use an extra hand now and again. That's all.
That's very charitable of you.
Perhaps we can send over some of the silver as well.
And what about linen?
I wouldn't be surprised if some of hers was looking a bit shabby.
Please, Mary, stop.
Maybe she can send over some of the things we've run short on.
My husband, for example.
We rarely see him in this house.
That hasn't seemed to bother you for some time now.
Lords and ladies, His Royal Highness, King Michael the Benevolent,
protector of the realm.
That scepter's made of wood.
Yes, well, we dream on a budget here, don't we?
No, I mean, everyone thinks it's made of gold, but it's just an old hunk of wood.
The means to an end, Peter.
What we've done is taken an old hunk of wood
and transformed it for all the worid to see into the most magnificent gold.
- There you go. - What's this?
All great writers begin with a good leather binding and a respectable title.
Open it.
"The Boy Castaways."
"Being a record of the terrible adventures of the brothers Davies,
faithfully set forth by... Peter Llewelyn Davies."
Kipling would swallow his own ear for a title like that.
Stab him, George. You can do it.
I still have no idea what to write.
Write about anything. Write about your family.
- Write about the talking whale. - What whale?
The one that's trapped in your imagination and desperate to get out. Come sit down.
I have actually begun writing about the adventures of the Davies brothers myself.
- A play? - A play indeed, yes.
And I would be extremely honored
if you would allow me the use of your name for one of the characters.
I don't know what to say.
Say yes.
Good man.
Porthos! That's mine. Let go.
I won't go to bed. I won't, I won't.
You should have been in bed half an hour ago, young man.
I'm afraid I've grown hopelessly lax in my discipline.
Nonsense. Young boys should never be sent to bed.
They always wake up a day older.
And then, before you know it, they're grown.
Their father would have been horrified.
Of course, he never would have allowed a dog in the house either.
He'd have tied him up in the yard.
Right! Last one in bed's a hairy toad.
You mean a lot to my boys, you know.
Especially Peter.
It seems to me that Peter's trying to grow up too fast.
I imagine he thinks that grown-ups don't hurt as deeply as children do when they...
when they lose someone.
I lost my elder brother, David, when I was just Peter's age.
And it nearly destroyed my mother.
James, I'm so sorry.
Your poor mother. I can't imagine losing a child.
Aye.
She didn't get out of bed for months.
She wouldn't eat.
I tried everything to make her happy, but...
she only wanted David.
So...
one day...
I dressed myself in David's clothing
and I went to her.
You must have frightened her to death.
I think it was the first time she ever actually... looked at me.
And that was the end of the boy James.
I used to say to myself he'd gone to Neverland.
Where?
Neverland. It's a wonderful place.
I've not spoken about this before to anyone.
Ever.
What's it like... Neverland?
One day I'll take you there.
Wait a minute, James. He's a fairy?
Er, no. He's the irrepressible spirit of youth. Tinker Bell is the fairy.
- Tinker Bell is a woman? - She's not a woman. She's a fairy.
He is a boy who stays young forever.
James, how does anyone stay young forever? It doesn't work.
He just believes, Charles. He imagines life the way he wants it to be,
and he believes in it long enough and hard enough that it all appears before him, see?
James, I'm your friend. You're coming off a flop.
- You have a man who is a fairy. - No, a boy who has a fairy.
And this girl calls herself Tinker.
And you have a pirate ship on stage surrounded by tons and tons of water.
- That's a lot of water. - It's a lot of water.
- Yes, and that's a lot of money. - It is, but we can fake the water.
Oh, well, if we can fake the water then I'm sure your play will be a hit.
You know what I think I'll do? I think I'll imagine life the way I want it to be...
Long enough and hard enough?
Yes, and then the money for the play will appear magically before me.
- That's right. That's it. - Yes.
How does the clock wind up inside the crocodile?
- He swallows it. - Ah, of course he does.
Out!
How was he?
- Well done. - Good show!
I finally get the courage to invite the boys to a game
and we have to suffer this grave humiliation.
It's perfect actually.
Spend a good deal of time with them, don't you?
Every moment I can spare, in fact.
I'm glad for you.
And Mrs Davies seems to be having a good time of it as well.
You should be aware though, James, what some people have been saying.
Mind you, I wouldn't bring it up if I thought the rumors would pass.
I'm not surprised. What are they saying?
Very well.
That you spend much more time with Mrs Davies than you do with your own wife.
She's a widow. And...
And a friend. That's it. Nothing more.
There have also been questions about how you spend your time with those boys.
And why.
That's outrageous. How could anyone think something so evil?
They're children. They're innocent children.
You find a glimmer of happiness in this worid,
there's always someone who wants to destroy it.
No. Thank you, Arthur, but I don't think many will give credence to such nonsense.
Then why is no one sitting with them?
Once you get a bit of notoriety, James,
people watch you and they will look for ways to drag you down.
Are you sure your wife doesn't object to us taking over your cottage
for the summer, James?
- She doesn't go there anymore. - Really?
It's such a relief to get away. You'll come and visit, I hope?
- Of course. Are we in? - Everyone in?
- Can I drive, Uncle Jim? - Er, no.
Out of the way or I'll make haggis out of you.
Get the sheep out the way.
- Are we there yet? - Almost. Almost there.
I can see the cottage!
- Shall we explore, Michael? - Don't tear your clothes, please.
- Come on. Follow me. - Be careful of stinging nettles.
Hurry up, everyone.
- Would you like to see the rest of it? - Mm. Yes.
'Ello!
Thought you could escape from Captain Swarthy, eh?
Off to the ship with you, then. Off to the ship, son!
So now you can either choose to become a pirate with the rest of us,
or we'll toss you to the sharks.
- How marvelous. - Well, maybe the crocodiles, eh?
- No one's escaped, Captain. - Excellent work, matey.
Now then.
Now is your only chance to speak.
Who amongst you is ready to tie your hopes and dreams to the sea?
- I am! - Not finished yet.
To enter upon the most dangerous chapter
in your young and soon-to-be-wasted lives?
What did you say? What are doing, son?
Are you giggling? On my ship? Giggling? What did you say?
- I said I'm ready, Captain. - What's your name, boy?
I'm Curly, the oldest and wisest of the crew.
Cut him loose, matey.
Welcome aboard, Curly. Your job will be to mop the deck.
And who be you, young squire?
My name be Nibs the Cut-throat. Feared by men and greatly desired by the ladies.
Jack!
Welcome aboard, Nibs. You shall polish all wood surfaces.
Grab a hold of that rigging.
- And you, lad? - I'm Peter.
That's not a pirate name. What about Dastardly Jim, eh?
No. Just Peter.
I like my name.
Very well.
In punishment for lack of an interesting pirate name, Peter shall walk the plank.
Cut him loose.
- What are you playing again? - The boy.
What have you got...? Excuse me.
Mr Barrie, sir?
There's been a mistake here, sir. It says here I'm to play the nanny.
- I don't imagine I quite fit that part, eh? - You're not actually the nanny.
You're a dog.
- What? - A Newfoundland.
We'll put you in a great big fluffy dog suit.
Rrr.
Oh, right.
Actually, we don't have a Tinker Bell cast, do we? He could play Tinker Bell.
Heavens, no. Tinker Bell's a light. It moves around the stage.
Just a wee light that moves around the stage.
Bit worried about this.
Let's see. We've got John Darling, Michael Darling,
Tiger Lily, Smee, Skylights.
It's a play for puppets. Tootles, Nibs, Curly.
All these names are absurd when you see them all together.
Captain Hook, S...
Oh, hello, James.
You're out of your mind.
How were rehearsals?
Fine. Great. They're going... quite well.
- Good. - Yes. Thank you.
- Hello. - Hello.
- How was your journey? - It was quite long. I'm exhausted.
- Let's get you some tea. - That'd be nice. Thanks.
- Can you come to the playhouse? - In a moment, Michael. He's just arrived.
But I said I'd get him. They always send Peter to do things. I said I'll do it.
- It will spoil the surprise. - What surprise, darling?
It's a great surprise. We've taken most of the day preparing for it.
- Everybody's waiting for you. - Then we mustn't keep them waiting.
Please don't tell them that I told you the surprise. I said I wouldn't.
Oh, well, you didn't really tell us anything about it, did you?
- Yes I did. It's a play. - It's a play?
"The Lamentable Tale of Lady Ursula."
"A play in one act by Peter Llewelyn Davies."
- This is just a bit of silliness, really. - I should hope so. Go on.
I just wanted to take a stab at writing, you know.
Well, the others do a good job with it anyway.
Well, let's see it then.
"The Lamentable Tale of Lady Ursula."
"One morning, just after sunrise,
Lady Ursula, the most beautiful daughter of Lord and Lady Dubon,
made her way up the steps of the great cathedral to pray to her blessed saint."
"Suddenly, as she reached the cathedral doors,
the gargoyle that guarded the sacred structure
came to life and swooped down upon her."
"The people of the village all ran to safety,
but Lady Ursula slipped on the cathedral steps
and the gargoyle descended upon her, wrapping her in its huge wings
and taking her high up into the spires of the cathedral."
- Go on, Peter. - "Not long after this sorrowful event,
a young knight named JM Barnaby came into the city."
Sylvia.
- Do you want some water? - Mother?
- No, James. - Let's get her back to the house. Go on.
She won't discuss it with me at all. She claims it was nothing.
I tell you, Doctor, she couldn't breathe.
You can't very well treat a patient who won't admit there's anything wrong.
Well, you'll have to make her understand that something is.
- I'll try and do my best. - Great. Just there.
Get your hand flat like that.
Ow.
Then... Like that.
Come in.
The good doctor didn't feel up to the challenge on this one.
He thinks you need to go to hospital for further tests.
Nonsense. When would I have time for that?
Besides, this family's had enough of hospitals.
- Perhaps they can help you. - I know what they can do for me.
I saw what they did for my husband.
No, James. I've no interest in hospitals.
I'm keenly interested in having some supper.
What did you and Mother decide to tell us this time? "It's only a chest cold"?
- We hadn't decided anything. - Stop lying to me!
I'm sick of grown-ups lying to me.
I'm not lying to you. I don't know what's wrong.
"Father might take us fishing," that's what she said. "In just a few weeks."
And he died the next morning.
That wasn't a lie, Peter.
That was your mother's hope.
He barely moved for a week, but I started planning our fishing trip.
I will never lie to you. I promise you that.
No, all you'll do is teach me to make up stupid stories
and pretend that things aren't happening until...
I won't! I'm not blind.
I won't be made a fool.
What's this? Peter.
The play.
Darling, I wanted to see the rest of it.
Magic's gone out of it a bit now, hasn't it?
All because of a silly chest cold.
James.
Well, you remember Gilbert Cannan, don't you?
Good evening.
Mr Cannan has been working on the committee to fight government censorship.
I know how involved you've been as well.
He wanted to speak to you. I did think you'd be home so much sooner.
It's been a long evening, Mary.
Yes.
Well, if I'd realized how late it was, of course.
I should perhaps talk to you at another time? Not so late?
That will be fine.
We'll talk then.
Thank you for your patience, Mrs Barrie.
Mr Barrie.
- Good night. - Night.
Well, aren't you going to speak?
What would you like me to say?
"Curious how late Mr Cannan stayed," I suppose.
And then, let's see. What comes next?
"No later than you were out, James."
"And how is Mrs Davies this evening?"
Oh, yes, I would have a great answer for that one, wouldn't I?
How dare you.
This isn't one of your plays.
I know that, Mary. It's quite serious.
But I'm not ready for this conversation, wherever it may lead.
Perhaps we can talk in the morning, yes? Good night then.