('IN THE SUMMERTIME' PLAYS)
SONG: # In the summertime when the weather is high
# You can stretch right up and touch the sky
# When the weather's fine
# You got women, you got women on your mind
# Have a drink, have a jar
# Go out and see what you can find
# If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal
# If her daddy's poor, just do what you feel
# Scoot along the lake, do a turn and then return at 25
# When the sun goes down
# You can make it good and really fine
# We're all friendly
# We love Daddy Well, I mean
# We love everybody 'cause we do as we please
# When the weather's fine
# We go fishing or go swimming in the sea
# We're always happy
# Life's for living Yeah, that's our philosophy
# Sing along with us Dee-dee-dee-dee-dee
# Da-da-da-da-da Yeah, we're hap-happy
# Da-da-da-dee-dee-da-da-da
# Da-da-da-da-da... #
(MAGICAL, GENTLE MUSIC)
WOMAN: Listen.
"In the autumn, the dusk fell gently.
"She sat at the end of the jetty,
"listening to the tinkling of the masts
"and the water lapping at the poles.
"The jetty creaked at the joints
"and the boats bobbed about, deserted now."
(LAPPING WATER) "There was a nip in the air.
"With the demise of summer, the town seemed to settle back on itself,
"to mellow.
"The breeze no longer carried the crackle of transistors,
"the call of gulls
"and the smell of fish and chips.
"With the summer visitors gone,
"there was a sense of quiet industry about the place.
"It was a business of getting on with things.
"From where she sat, she could see the quiet little foreshore
"with its white bandstand framed by Norfolk pines.
"Beyond that, the road swept up the hill, into the township.
"And off in the distance,
"past where the old tramline used to carry the holiday-makers up the hill
"from the Melbourne ferry,
"she focused above the trees
"and could just make out the rooftops further down.
"A red, a green, a red.
"The second red roof on the hill.
"'That's us,' she whispered.
"And it was then that she felt it -
"the sweet, pensive sadness, the melancholy,
"the yearning for something that she could not name."
Well, you can't see above the trees.
Well, this is the jetty. I'm sure of it.
Look - the white bandstand, the pines...
...and the road sweeping up the hill into the township.
Everything. It's exactly as she describes it.
It's Sorrento.
Maybe.
(SCREEN DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES)
(GULLS CRY)
(Shouts) How was it? Beautiful.
Clear as crystal, that water. You ought to come.
(Dryly) Sure, Dad. Look at it. Like a plucked chook.
Have a hot shower. Ow!
A-ha!
Uh-uh. Get the sand off first.
Golden Slipper Stakes.
Two million?!
Struth.
(NEWS BULLETIN MUSIC)
RADIO: 3MP. Melbourne weather (Cat screeches)
What's this here? Uh, it's Pippa's.
It's her overcoat.
More clothes than I've had hot breakfasts, that girl.
Got a cuppa on the go? Mm-hm.
She still asleep? Yep.
I'll take one in to her.
Let her sleep. Those long flights knock you about.
Yeah. Long time to be cooped up in a damn plane.
She's only here two days. Then she's going to the city.
Beats me why anyone would spend time in that stinking joint.
Wouldn't go up if you paid me.
The agency is paying her to set up that franchise.
Bloody Yanks.
We were three years in the Western Desert when they arrived.
What did they do first?
BOTH: Build an ice-cream factory. Exactly.
I'd better get a wriggle on.
Told Lorna Watson I'd clear her guttering.
What's wrong with her son-in-law? The lazy bugger. Why can't he do it?
He's got a crook back or some bloody thing.
We need a coat of paint here. Look at it!
Yes. We'll get Tracker Jolson to help.
Got some of that red paint left. That'll do the roof.
I like the red. Looks nice from the beach.
Yeah. Some color on the hill.
Watch it. (PETER ALLEN SINGS ON RADIO)
Mum, where's my Giants T-shirt?
The wash. Oh, shit.
# When my baby smiles at me I go to Rio de Janeiro
# My oh me-oh
# I go wild and then I have to do the samba... #
(MEN SING HYMN)
(Man sings along) # On England's pleasant pastures seen
# Bom, bom... And countenance did hide
# Shine forth upon our clouded hills... #
WOMAN: Edwin?
Ah, Meg. You're home.
# And was Jerusalem builded here... #
Well, you know what they say.
"Leave an Englishman alone at home with a tea cozy..."
Actually, it's rather becoming.
Thank you.
You've had 12 telephone calls. Oh, God.
The price, my dear, of suddenly becoming enormously famous.
How was the new Aussie play?
Awful.
Why do Australians always have to be so obvious?
Am I obvious?
Uh, let's see.
"Hello. How are you?
"Would you like sex here, or at my place in Fulham?
"I may seem hasty, but the bus for Fulham leaves in 10 minutes."
Is that obvious? I never lived in Fulham.
Oh! Chelsea. I do beg your pardon. Freudian slip.
Probably some other girl. Probably.
Anyway, you needed a bit of prodding.
We Englishmen are notoriously coy about things of this nature.
Backward - let's face it. Anyway, I'm talking about my book.
When you read it, did you think, "My God, that's so obvious"?
No. Why?
I was wondering if it's a cultural handicap.
Being obvious? Yeah.
Well, you lot do call a spade a spade.
It's admirable in real life but doesn't make for great drama.
An Australian couldn't have written 'Hamlet'.
You'd have Hamlet saying...
(Australian accent) "Cut the bullshit.
"I don't believe in ghosts."
It would be over in two minutes.
Who phoned? Journalists, mostly. There's a list.
Why are they ringing on Friday night? Nothing on telly, perhaps.
One called from Australia. Said he'd been out with your sister.
Yeah? Which one? Pippa.
What did he want? Same as everyone.
An exclusive of the Meg Moynihan story.
Unknown Aussie novelist makes Booker short list with second novel.
Oh, God! What?
The London Book Council.
They're organizing a forum on women in autobiography.
I'm to give the opening address.
What do you know about autobiography?
That's what I said to Deborah.
But women writers have no frame of reference
beyond their immediate experience!
All novels written by women are merely dressed-up diary entries!
I wonder what they'd make of that in Sorrento.
They'd think it ridiculous.
Do you know..? No, what?
At the play tonight, Carmel refused to speak in the interval
in case anyone recognized her Australian accent.
Oh! That so irritated me.
Thought it was affirming.
Seeing something bad, you could think,
"Glad I don't live there anymore."
Edwin. Mmm?
Where did you get that shirt?
Camden Markets, Sunday. 75 pence. Not bad, eh?
I think you got ripped off.
(Hilary laughs) Good afternoon.
What time is it?
After 11:00. Oh, is that all?
My tongue feels like there's a sock on it.
Did we drink a lot last night, or am I imagining things?
About a dozen stubbies, bottles of champagne.
You two got stuck into the whisky. Thanks, Troy.
You're kidding? Yes, he's kidding.
Put the kettle on, Troy.
Uh, not for me. I think I'll just sit for a minute.
RADIO: It's 11:41 Ray Barnett. Saturday morning
The Eagles first 'Take it Easy'
(Laughs) Why not. For goodness sakes? It is a weekend
And a long weekend what's more
Don't you have to be at the shop?
Doesn't make much difference. Not off-season.
Besides, it's not every day your little sister comes home.
PIP: No-one drinks anymore. Not in New York, anyhow.
What are you grinning at?
Oh, nothing.
(IRON STEAM HISSES) Is that old thing still going?
Mm-hm.
Poor old Mum. (US accent) Outlived by her iron.
Life sucks, eh, Troy? Mm-hm.
Troy! What?
When you're 16 years old, life does not suck.
Life is brimming with excitement and purpose, isn't it?
(Snorts) Ha, she can't remember.
I can too! (Laughs) Put the kettle on, Troy.
On, off, on, off.
Oh.
Here's what I was talking about last night.
This is what they use to hold their sandwiches together.
A toothpick. Well, basically.
We must find someone here to make the plastic dilly on the top.
They're called 'hatlets'. I've seen those.
You have not. Yeah, I have.
On '90210'. Can I have a look? Thanks.
(US accent) See you at the Peach Pit.
Outlived by her iron. Poor Mum.
I remember her every night on her iron.
Always got the rough end of the pineapple, Mum.
Where was Pop? Out fishing.
Or in the pub. But mostly in the bay, fishing.
He wouldn't get in until after midnight some nights, remember?
We'd hear him on the back verandah, banging the walls.
He'd throw fish in the sink and crash into bed, drunk as a skunk.
It's cruel, I reckon.
How do you mean?
He was a bastard to our mother and a hopeless father.
But he's the one that everyone loves.
Yeah. Yet she kept it all together.
(SCREEN DOOR OPENS) Ah. You're up.
Hi, Dad.
Ernie Mac gave us a few flatties. Right.
Said to say g'day. Yeah.
Thought we might scrub them up for tea.
(Laughs) What do you reckon?
What are you laughing at? Nothing!
Don't look at me. I'm not cleaning them.
No-one's asking you to. Troy's not doing anything.
No. Just sitting here, brimming with life and purpose.
(Women laugh) What do you do with this kid?
(KETTLE WHISTLES) That the kettle? Turn it off.
TRO Y: I can't believe this! What's this here?
They're to keep fillings in sandwiches
without them falling apart.
What'll they think of next? TRO Y: They come in different colors.
(Cat screeches)
Well, I got a bit more news for you. Last Thursday's 'Sun'.
I was up at Lorna Watson's...
Lorna Watson. God, is she still alive?
Yeah, and doing very nicely, if you don't mind.
Any rate, we got talking and she showed me this.
Troy, haven't got my glasses. Here, read it out for us, will you?
(Clears throat)
"AAP London.
"Expatriate Australian novelist Meg Moynihan
"has been nominated for the prestigious Booker McConnell Prize.
"Her novel, 'Melancholy', was included on the short list,
"announced yesterday.
"With literary heavyweights like Frederico Cuts..."
Koetz.
"...Koetz and Jonathon Drewmore as contenders..."
Sounds like a horse race. They take bets on it.
Put something on it, Pop.
Never bet on anything that's not in the 'Sporting Globe'. Carry on.
"Moynihan's novel, dealing with the rites of passage
"of a young woman growing up in an isolated coastal town,
"is a contentious choice.
"Her central argument is,
"in the brutalizing male culture of Australia during her childhood,
"a woman's survival is conditional on the extent to which
"she was prepared to betray her sisters.
"The novel has been described as displaying
"a disappointing lack of stylistic ambition by London critics,
"whereas Lucinda Brampton of the 'New York Book Review'
"hailed it as containing one of the most exquisitively executed
"scenes of recent English language fiction."
That it? Yeah.
There you are. Never thought your own sister would be a celebrity.
Oh, yeah. I knew.
I reckon you're the one who's most surprised.
It would never enter your head.
RADIO: Silver Medal's into line
About to start the Science Produce
They're off and running
Lavendery out badly. First out. Delsol
I think melancholy is something men don't understand.
Australian men, dare I say it. Bullshit.
No. You confuse it with depression, which is different.
See, I know exactly what she's talking about.
There are certain times when I feel overcome by this immense sadness.
But it isn't depressing.
It's tender, and gentle.
Oh, I don't know how to describe it. It's very female, I think.
Is this before you went through the change, Marge?
You think... men don't experience melancholy?
Well, do you?
Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.
When I'm feeling particularly self-indulgent.
I haven't seen evidence of it while I've known you.
You should see me when I open my bank statement.
I warned you not to pour all your money into that paper of yours.
Middle-aged and still living in student digs.
Well, Australians don't want to hear an independent voice
telling them they're being duped.
But, I suppose, you intend to keep on trying.
What did you say in the staffroom at Footscray High?
What?
About lost causes being the ones worth fighting for.
(Scoffs) Touché.
(LOUD DRUMMING)
(DRUMMING CONTINUES, DOG BARKS OUTSIDE)
(Taps on laptop computer)
(Hilary shouts) Troy!
Have you fed the cat?
RADIO: Melbourne's weather for the long weekend
It'll be fine and sunny with afternoon sea breezes.
With a maximum of 24 degrees
Welcome to 3MP's Jukebox Saturday Night
with your favorites from the '50s and '60s
'The Canterbury Tales'. At your age?
Thank you.
No accounting for taste, is there, Troy?
Feed the cat, darling.
I'm thinking of, ah, maybe coming back at the end of the year.
What about Martin?
I thought it was serious between you two.
So did I. But no-one wants to take me that seriously.
What do you mean?
I'm kind of... entertainment value
but, you know, white bread.
White bread? He wants a nice Jewish girl.
I thought he'd come to terms with that.
He has. (US accent) He found a nice Jewish girl.
Oh, Pip. Yeah, well.
If it wasn't that it'd be something else. Always is.
Did I ever tell you about going to visit his parents?
No.
(US accent) His mom was cooking Italian,
and I was so nervous
I dropped a lump of mozzarella into the fish tank.
Oh, no!
And not just a little lump of cheese. This thing was huge.
When it went in, the water went out in a big way
along with about 50 tropical fish.
(US accent) I just remember seeing his mom standing on a chair,
screeching, "Get the cat out!"
You're a silly bugger, Pip.
Troy, feed the cat. (CAT MEOWS)
Oh, I am sorry, Pip.
Yeah, well, things kind of took a downturn after that.
(SOFT CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYS)
MEG: Oh, listen to this bit.
"I'm doing an English course with the Council of Adult Education.
"We're studying Chaucer. It's very interesting."
See what I mean? Chaucer's not interesting, he's very dull.
She finds it interesting. No, she does not.
She thinks she should find it interesting. That's being 'cultured'.
Being conversant with things that are irrelevant and dull.
Exactly.
That's the whole middle class back home.
They memorize Shakespeare's date of birth and some rhyming couplets
in order to sprinkle it in conversation around the barbie.
"Will Kylie bring the coleslaw?"
"To bring or not to bring - that is the question.
"Shakespeare, you know. Born 1564, died 1616.
"Oh, terrific bean salad, Val."
You are such a snob. No, I'm not.
I'm not. It's just that for all that obsessive nationalism,
people still equate culture with Shakespeare and Chaucer.
You just wanted her to say something about your book.
If you'd written a book, you'd expect your family to read it, wouldn't you?
Not necessarily. I suspect the last book Gareth read was 'Biggles'.
Might be expecting too much.
I bet she has read it. She's just not saying anything.
"You'll be pleased to hear that Dad is much better."
"I think the fact that Pippa's arrived has cheered him enormously."
Oh, God. Why does she always do this to me?
What?!
Oh, just make me feel so damn guilty about everything.
Do you remember the time I drank Mum's moisturizer?
Oil of Ulan? (Laughs) That's it.
They call it 'Olay' in the States. (US accent) 'Oil of Olay'.
I thought it was flavored milk.
Mum - she probably saved for it for months,
then her daughter drinks it.
I must have been seriously defective. Mm-hm.
Why'd you take the blame? I didn't. Meg did.
Meg? I thought it was you! You told Mum you spilled it.
Meg took the blame. God, she's weird, that woman!
She is. It's just another example of it. It shits me.
You should write and tell her.
"Dear Meg, I'm compelled to say
"I'm still angry about that moisturizer incident."
You don't understand. Yes, I do.
It's odd, isn't it - all these bits and pieces turning up in Meg's book.
I felt cheat... cheated or something.
Makes me feel like my childhood...
Well, our childhood's been sort of raided.
I mean, not that anyone's going to say
"Oh, that's Hilary," or "That's Pippa," or whatever.
But it... it kind of does something to your own memories.
I mean, not that there's anything deep and meaningful
in there about us.
It's just the little things.
It's almost as if they're not ours anymore.
I don't care about the little things.
Why'd the council let them build that?
They only gave them a short lease.
No matter how much money this chain of yours has,
you cannot buy beaches here - the beaches belong to everybody.
What about the tearoom at the aquarium?
We could call it 'Subs on the Bay'.
No! I've got it. 'Subs in the Bay'. Put up a big sign.
They wouldn't let you.
Rosebud's McDonald's had to put their arches at ground level.
All the years Moynihans have been at Sorrento, we must have some pull.
I don't think it would work.
Australians are used to old-style sandwiches.
Yeah. (UK accent) Stingy old English kind.
One slice of ham with butter between...
Multigrain bread, ham and fresh salad.
Beetroot and pineapple, like burgers from the fish and chip shop.
It sounds soggy with all that dressing.
Not with the right rolls. This bread company...
The product's not the point.
With this system, it's a turnkey operation.
Troy and his friends could earn good money in their spare time.
You work half the hours, quadruple your income.
80% of small businesses like yours go out of business.
You don't have to sell me on that. But a franchise, Hil.
Do you realize what a McDonald's is worth here?
What?
(Marge reads) "There was something very ordinary about Helen.
"Ordinary and sensible.
"People would stop her in the street. 'Don't I know you from somewhere? '
"Used to happen a lot.
"She'd shimmer with pleasure, shrugging it off,
"for our benefit, of course.
"But inside, she held onto that hard little nugget of hope
"that there was something distinctive about her.
"After all, what good would it do to know that you were indistinguishable
"from a thousand others?
"But then again, it is a country which honors ordinariness
"above all else."
(Groans)
Do you think this is a country which honors ordinariness?
No.
Well, once, maybe.
Once, it was impossible to be different.
Anyone with any nous had to pack up and clear out.
It's not like that anymore, and to keep harking back to it,
that's what irritates me about that book.
It's safe. It won't shake anyone.
It's shaken me. Maybe you don't read between the lines.
I despise nostalgia. It is not nostalgia.
Where are the people writing about the big picture?
Who's coming to grips
with a contemporary vision for this place?
Anyone? Meg Moynihan, for one.
Oh, Jesus.
The trouble with you is
you're looking for the big, broad brushstrokes.
Australia can't be contained
in the sort of broad sweep you're asking for.
Great big visions make very empty pictures
if you don't attend to the small brushstrokes, the details.
As long as they're not the details of someone's childhood in Toowoomba
or tortured adolescence in Woy Woy, or...
(Beach Boys sing) # I will take you everywhere I go
# So I say from me to you... #
Still at it, Mum?
Books won't balance themselves.
You know, you shouldn't listen to this sort of stuff.
It's geriatric.
Your father had all their albums. Really?
(Sings softly) # Girl... #
# Surfer girl My little surfer girl... #
What was that Australian board called again?
Shane.
Ah... (Hums)
We all had 'em, before the boards started arriving from America.
What was that place you used to hang out at?
The Catacomb.
RADIO: Easy Music 3MP. With the Beach Boys and 'Surfer Girl'
It's ironic. Really Drummer drowned, didn't he?
Dennis Wilson.
You know, Mum, I was thinking.
What do you think this place would be worth?
Ah, Pop paid £ 1,200 for it with his Returned Soldier's Allowance.
Brett Williams reckons it'd be worth a packet now.
You wouldn't want to see it
turned into another trendy weekender, would you?
What would your grandfather say, eh?
No, if we had a lot of money - quite a lot of money -
so we weren't rich, but, you know, fairly rich,
we could get a place up near the city.
St Kilda. Oh, why not New York?
No, St Kilda's something else. Brett's dad's got a flat up there.
Has he just? Yeah. It's really good.
Goes to the football and the movies. Have their tea in restaurants.
Stuff like that.
His parents separated, are they?
Yeah - they hate each other's guts!
Oh, charming.
You should get together with Brett's dad.
Oh, yeah, sure, Troy!
What's he got to offer?
Apart from the flat in St Kilda, of course.
He plays a pretty mean game of golf.
Wow, quick! Get me his number!
Mum, you haven't even met him!
I know - he's probably got a very nice personality.
No - actually, he's a dickhead.
(Laughs) What would I do without you, huh?
Brett's got this stutter.
Not all the time, but he had to go and see this shrink in Melbourne.
He thinks it's because his parents are divorced.
I'm sort of glad you're not divorced, Mum.
Sometimes, I think it's better this way.
If your oldies had got divorced,
never know what would have happened to you.
Might've been a dribbler. (Laughs) That'd be nasty!
It was only a joke!
Wasn't very funny. Well, sorry.
How come you can't be serious?
About what?
You read Aunt Meg's book?
What made you think of that? I dunno.
How come you said that, out of the blue like that?
I dunno! Well, have you read it?
Yeah. I've read it.
Do you mind if I read it?
Why would I mind? Didn't think you'd be interested.
Of course I'm interested.
Well, read it, then.
Think I'll go to bed.
(Whispers) Goodnight.
(PHONE RINGS)
Hello? Hi, Rani!
No, I meant it - any time.
No, it's not late at all.
It's 2:00 in the bloody morning!
Tell him to ring back at a decent hour!
About five hours. No, behind.
Except it's tomorrow. It's about the only thing here that's ahead.
I miss you too.
Are you kidding? In Sorrento?
Just my family. I don't need to tell you about families, right?
(Laughs) I know. I'll be home soon.
(SERENE MUSIC)
Ow!
"Australians are just like their country - big and empty!
"Haw! Haw! Haw!" Thank you. Goodnight.
I tell you, Edwin, this is the last time!
He's a pompous old bore!
He just wants a rise out of you! He succeeded!
Come on, Meg - he's 71!
Since when has age had anything to do with it?
It's not just your father - what about Gareth?
He's a bloody prick! Alright, Gareth is a prick.
That is well documented.
But my father does not mean any harm.
He's so fucking patronizing.
Listen! I've told you, he's like that with everyone!
Either tell him you find this Australian rubbish offensive
or quit being so sensitive!
It's getting very tedious!
You try being an outsider in this dump of a country -
see how you like it!
It's like an oven in here!
Why can't you get the heating right?!
On full-bore till April, and then as soon as it's off,
it snows again!
You're hardly an outsider, Meg - for God's sake!
Well, how would you know?
You never set foot off home turf,
except for some cruddy package holiday
to the chateaux of the Loire...
Will you shhh! No, I will not shhh!
You've no idea! The minute I speak, I'm an outsider!
There's more prejudice in this shithouse place... Leave that!
For Christ's sakes, Meg!
You've almost been given the most prestigious literary honor
this country could bestow on anyone
and you're behaving like they've taken away your pension cheque!
Outsider? That's rubbish!
If you'd stayed in Australia, you'd be a schoolteacher!
Bullshit! You've said as much yourself!
That's crap! Fine!
Well, go home, then!
We slept in a sleepout in the middle of the Australian summer
and it wasn't this hot!
What are you looking at?
Why don't you go feed your fucking gas meters!
(SERENE MUSIC)
(Laughs) Yes!
So, what do you think?
I think that's the first fish I've ever seen caught here!
No, I mean about the book.
Have you read it? No.
Oh. Well, it's... it's good. It's very well-written.
I mean, that's what the critics and everyone are saying.
No, I mean, did you like it? Hmm.
I read this letter that Meg sent to Mum.
Uh-uh-uh! Yeah, yeah - I know.
Anyway, she said that people might think
the Helen character's meant to be Mum,
but she shouldn't worry, because it wasn't supposed to be,
or something like that.
What else did she say?
Did she say anything about the Grace character?
Does it make Mum out to be an idiot or something?
No, nothing like that.
What is it, then? How come everyone just goes quiet?
Is it about my dad?
(SOFT GUITAR MUSIC)
Why don't you read it?
You read it, and make up your own mind.
It's kind of... about all of us, in a way.
Make up my own mind about what?
I didn't even know him.
Most of the guys at school think I'm really lucky,
'cause you can talk to Mum about anything.
They all reckon she's really ace.
Yeah, well - she is!
Yeah. But you can't talk to her about everything.
Not everything.
Well, I can't, anyway.
I don't even know how it happened, Pip.
I mean, I know he had a car accident.
But there's more to it than that, isn't there?
What did you mean by that?
"Go home."
What's that supposed to mean?
Exactly that. Book yourself a flight, go home for a while.
You can't be serious.
I've got publicity appearances, book signings...
Cancel them! They're turning you into a screaming ratbag.
Oh, thank you, Edwin.
You've said as much yourself.
You've been talking obsessively
about Australia and your family for weeks.
Just go for a month, and then come back.
Thanks a lot for your support.
Oh, God, I feel terrible!
Oh, good - papers.
Don't read that, please.
Why not?
It's got your interview. You're hardly in the right frame of mind...
What? Where?
Oh, my God!
Oh, no!
But I didn't...
Oh, no - I sound like...
I sound like such a pain in the arse!
They've made my family sound like morons!
Come on - you expected it to be bad.
What would they say if they read this in Sorrento?
They'd be so angry!
Meg... They'd be so hurt!
Meg, listen, listen - you don't have to worry about that!
Who's gonna read the 'Times' in Sorrento, eh?
They probably don't even have it on the newsstand!
They don't even have a newsstand! Oh!
Come on, kids! Here! Time for tea!
DICK: Marge?
Yeah, out here.
There you are.
Dick, I was right - it is Sorrento. That book.
I spoke to the people who run the paddleboats in the summer.
They say the Moynihans have been here as long as they can remember.
Father once ran a garage on the old road,
and he still lives here with one daughter,
and she runs the deli in the main street.
I know. You know?
It's in this interview in the 'Times'.
Oh.
How'd you get it so quickly?
Miracle of computers.
Is this what you meant by "small brushstrokes"?
A Hills hoist?
I'd be interested to hear what you think about that,
but I think she sounds like a pain in the arse.
Bloody expatriates!
I mean, what is it that makes them think
that living elsewhere automatically qualifies them
to make sweeping generalizations about this place?
Let me read. You know?
Culture isn't static, for God's sake - things change.
That woman hasn't lived here for 10 years -
look what's happened in that time!
I think some of the things she says are quite true.
Like what?
"Ask the average Brit what he knows about Australia,
"and he'll probably say 'Fosters and vomit'.
"The trouble is, your average Aussie bloke on the loose in London
"does nothing to dispel that image.
"I take some comfort in the fact that here, it's only a minor outbreak -
"at home, we're talking epidemic."
Oh, very funny!
What about Australia being rife
with xenophobia and anti-intellectualism -
you like that, too?
Journalists can take things out of context.
And all that stuff about the father!
She's quite right. There's a whole generation of old boys like that.
Yes, but they don't represent "the spirit of Australian life",
or whatever it is she says.
Not anymore, and that's the point - she's out of touch!
Not for me, she's not.
I'll ring Kelly at the office, get her to track down this woman.
Got an idea for a piece on Australia's image problem abroad
and this fits in nicely!
(MURMUR OF RADIO)
(Cat meows) Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh!
RADIO: on all aspects of the ground
Strong in the ruck. The roving area.
And the team looks a pretty confident side
Well. They do
Can't find those bloody glasses anywhere!
What's the use of the damn things!
I can't seem to find 'em.
When I've got them I can barely read the bloody form.
Dad, you need a new prescription.
This is stupid! Yeah, yeah.
You'll need those real thick milk bottles!
(Laughs heartily)
Yeah, I used to know a bloke once, drank with him down at the Koonya.
His missus called him 'Milk Bottle' -
he was always full on the front porch in the morning.
(All laugh) That's as old as the hills.
It's still funny, you've got to admit.
Troy, come here for a sec, will ya?
(RADIO COMMENTARY CONTINUES ) (Opens screen door)
Come here.
You know, sometimes I have to pinch myself just every now and again.
I see you and I think... it's Mum standing there.
Yep - ordinary and sensible. Thanks a lot.
No, no - look, don't be offended. It's nice.
It's kind of comforting.
How about you and me have a go at that book of Meg's?
How do you mean? Could you read it to me?
Just a few chapters at a time?
I'm blowed if I can read these days,
except for a few 'Globe' headlines.
Would you? Yeah, yeah.
Good boy. Troy, just between the two of us, eh?
She'll harp at me about seeing that eye bloke in Frankston.
I can't stand the little bastard. (Laughs)
Troy asked me a few things about Meg's book.
He asked me if it was about his father.
What gave him that idea?
I dunno.
What did you say?
That it was about us all. What did you say that for?
Why say that, Pip?
He asked me. I wasn't going to lie!
Lie?! My God, Pippa.
What's the poor k...
Oh, Jesus!
(Turns up radio volume)
You tell a 16-year-old boy
that some character in a book is his father?!
His father he can't remember 'cause he was only six years old! Pip!
Well, he needs to talk about it. I'm sure he does.
I think he needs a fancy Fifth Avenue analyst...
Oh, look, Hil.
What's there to talk about? Huh?
(LOUD RADIO COMMENTARY)
(Sighs)
Didn't anyone ever tell you about fiction?
You know, make-believe?
Did you get confused because it was written by your own sister?
Are you angry about something?
Seen a bit of yourself you don't like? I...
If that's the case, I'm sorry.
Don't put that on me.
Don't put in on my son. (CRASHING SOUND)
WAL: Who left that bloody bicycle out here?
I wonder what Dad would make of all this business.
The press's field day with my book,
me being grilled about my family life... Ow!
You know what I reckon he'd say?
"Meggie, there are two things you need to know about the Poms.
"First is, they're not real keen on getting wet
"and the second is, they're whingeing bastards.
"All this fuss about your book, I wouldn't take a jot of notice.
"Just sour grapes."
Genuine antipodean Socrates, your father.
It's all quite simple, his way of looking at things.
Mmm. Xenophobia and prejudice usually are.
You'd like him if you met him. Most people do.
Hmm.
I wish you could meet him.
Hmm.
(CRICKETS CHIRP OUTSIDE) (Snores)
PIPPA: Yes, that's right.
(Women laugh)
Oh, my God, look at this.
Oh... (Clears throat)
We must have nodded off.
Mmm. What's he doing up?
Oh... he's sleeping, by the looks of things.
(Women laugh) Oh, Dad.
Well now, er, did you paint the town red?
Yeah, Dad. The pizza place was really jumpin'.
I took her to that smokehouse pizza.
You know, where the Catacomb used to be?
Bloody Ities.
Bring them out to work in our factories,
now they've got us eating weeds from the railway tracks.
He means fennel.
Wood-burning pizza's Californian, Dad.
Eh.
Well, er, what time are you off tomorrow?
I'm driving up to the train first thing.
Ah. Ah.
What are you doing up there, any rate?
Do you know that's the first time
you've asked me anything about my work since I've been here?
I'm asking you now.
Come on Troyby, off to bed. I'm working in the morning.
Hang about! Got something to tell you.
Go on, Pip.
The business agency I work for in New York...
I thought it was an advertising agency!
I'm with their business brokers now - franchising.
Trust the bloody Yanks to come up with more kinds of middle-men...
They've sent me here to open up a prototype
of one of their sandwich shops.
Then we'll start an Australian company and sell the concept.
What do you know about sandwiches? That's not the point!
Hil can learn the system and be in on the ground floor.
Right.
I don't want to be involved. Oh, Mum!
PIPPA: Talk to her, Troy.
The costs are covered.
Your mum could easily become Australia's master franchiser!
I don't want to!
Oh, well, at least the sub-franchiser for the peninsula.
(Groans) They don't even have to come out here themselves
to take us over now!
What's wrong with our sandwiches? Nothing!
It's just an alternative.
Oh, yeah - like the self-serve.
Put all the grocers and half the butchers out of business!
That's what I said. The supermarket at Rye ruined our milk bar.
Come on, Mum!
She'll have you and your friends working there.
Filth! Come on!
You hated working in our shop.
Only before school.
Enough of this. Off to bed.
Oh, has he told you about Meg? No.
You'd better sit down for this.
(Groans) Oh, what? Come on, spit it out.
She's coming here next week.
What, here?
Yeah. How come?
Well, I mean, she's missing out, isn't she?
Us all being here. She knows it.
It's not a real family, is it?
Without everyone.
Oh, Dad.
Well, I mean it... It's about time, isn't it?
You took your time too!
Is Edwin coming?
Yeah. She's finally convinced him.
That's what's been holding her back, you know.
True! Silly whacker.
You don't even know him! I know enough!
Rubbish, Pop. It's 'cause he's a Pom, isn't it!
Nothing to do with it! That's bullshit.
How do you know when a plane's arrived from England?
The whining keeps going after the engines stop.
(Hilary and Wal laugh)
Pip?
What's going on?
I thought she'd be as pleased as punch.
I'm going to bed.
Yeah, come on. Let's hit the sack, eh?
Come on, Troy.
I thought we might take off down the back beach in the morning,
get a bit of surf for a change.
See if the ocean's any warmer than the bay, eh?
What do ya reckon? Yeah. Yeah, OK.
Bring your board.
You're on. Good boy.
(TENDER MUSIC)
Hello. How are you?
Good, thanks.
What can I get you?
Ah, just two cappuccinos, thanks.
Coming up.
Excuse me.
I hope you don't think this sounds presumptuous,
but I was wondering whether you are Hilary Moynihan?
Yes, I am. Well... well, I was.
Related to Meg Moynihan?
Yes, she's my sister.
Well, I just wanted to say th...
I'm sorry. My name is Marge Morrisey.
I have a holiday house out the back of town.
This is my good friend, Dick Bennett.
Hello.
I'd just like to say that I loved your sister's book.
I think it's one of the most beautiful books I have ever read.
And I just wanted to tell you, that's all.
Thank you.
Well, thank you on her behalf.
She'd be very touched by that. I'll tell her.
Would you? Sure!
She'll be here next week, as a matter of fact.
Here? In Sorrento?
Yeah.
You're not from the press, I hope.
No. No.
Oh, good. It's supposed to be a secret.
She doesn't want the place crawling with journalists, apparently.
No, I bet she doesn't. (Laughs)
We haven't seen her or...
I saw her in the Italian Sorrento a few years back
but she hasn't been home since then.
Oh, it'll be wonderful. Family reunion!
Yeah.
We won't tell anybody, will we?
No, certainly not.
(PHONE RINGS)
Ah, excuse me. Won't be a moment.
Hello. Top Deli.
The woman's arriving next week and I'm the only media person who knows.
Speaking.
You're not from the press, remember?
Well...
...we can work something out.
No, don't you dare! No, I mean it, Dick.
HIL: I'll be there! People are entitled to privacy.
(Slams phone down and grabs keys)
(SOUND OF OCEAN RUMBLING)
What is it? Is something...
He's gone missing in the sea.
(OCEAN RUMBLES)
(TENSE MUSIC)
(POLICE RADIO CHATTER)
(DRAMATIC MUSIC)
Troy!
Mum.
(Sobs)
(SOMBRE MUSIC)
(Sobs)
(SEAGULLS CRY)
(ETHEREAL MUSIC)
Do you remember the Sorrento Fair?
Remember the year the fortune teller came?
He wasn't a fortune teller, was he?
(Laughs) Well, what was he?
He was a world-renowned palmist and clairvoyant - Pundit Maharaji.
'Poon- dit'. 'Poon- dit'.
That's right - it was written on his caravan. Pundit Maharaji.
What did he say to you?
Something like I was going to be rich and famous,
travel vast distances across the sea.
How about you, Pip?
"Rich and famous and travel vast distances."
Something highly personalized like that.
He told me that I was one of three.
That was a good guess.
What else? That was it.
Kids threw stones at his caravan and he chased them.
I don't think you got your shilling's worth.
(SENTIMENTAL STRING MUSIC)
There's Troy.
It's like he's still looking for Pop.
Poor kid.
He's a different boy now.
He's just clammed up.
They had something very special, those two.
This isn't fair. People are always dying on him.
He's a survivor, Hil.
He is.
Yeah, but at what cost?
What do you mean?
He feels responsible this time.
Yeah, I know how that feels.
(POIGNANT MUSIC)
Well, I think I'll go for a walk.
She can't see that anyone else could be hurting as much as she is.
She's like a child.
(Sighs) You think I'm still an angry young thing, don't you?
Look, you may think this is bullshit
but I'm different when I'm away.
I'm a different person.
If you met any of my friends in New York and said,
"Pippa's a cot case," they wouldn't know what you were talking about.
I don't think you're a cot case.
Oh, I am. I know I am.
Only when I'm here.
Mmm. Must be in the water then.
I really did want people to see how much I'd changed.
I was really looking forward to coming home.
You know, but...
...people don't want to see that, do they?
I mean, they don't want to see what's new about you -
they're suspicious of that.
It's like you've reneged on who you are and that's...
...that's fixed, that's immutable.
You are who you are and if you try and change,
well, you must be faking - bunging on an act.
But over there, you know, people think differently.
If you're not working to make positive changes in your life
they think you're in deep shit.
Mmm. So I hear.
You're cynical about that, aren't you?
No, I just don't think people actually do change.
(SEAGULL SQUAWKS)
Everybody has the potential.
It's... it's just whether we choose to use it or not.
Sounds like propaganda to me, Pip.
I'd rather be saying, "This is me. Like it or lump it."
May as well get used to it and make the best of it.