Thank you, Ben.
Tell your mother she's an angel, cooking for all us oldies.
- When's the driving test? - This afternoon.
You got a girlfriend yet?
Oh, no, no. Not yet, no.
Don't forget. Hand brake, mirror and turn.
My name is Roger, and I'm your driving examiner for today.
I'd like you to approach the next roundabout and
take the first exit.
No, that was the first exit, please. You're still going round.
In a moment, I'm going to strike the dashboard.
When I do, I'd like you to make an emergency stop.
Emergency stop, please.
Stop the car.
Stop!
Never mind, darling.
I crashed the car.
Well, you were nervous.
Mum, do you think I should have some proper lessons with a teacher?
I've been driving for 25 years. You just need more practice.
Seat belt, please.
* Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus *
* There is room in my heart for Thee *
* Just fill me with your presence Lord *
* I want you to be *
* Redeemed *
Good!
- Bye, Sarah. - Bye, Peter.
- Bye. See you next Sunday. - Bye, guys. See you on Sunday.
See you, Peter.
I know a lot of the guys teaching Religious
Education at Coventry.
It's a hell of a competitive course now,
very new science, philosophy, culture.
Very rounded, very sexy.
Lovely.
Obviously I can't take Ben's exams for him, but I can...
I can definitely recommend him.
Thank you, Peter. Isn't that wonderful, Ben?
Thanks.
Ben really knows his Bible. It's just the academics
he struggles with.
Maths was always my problem.
Ben and maths. Don't even talk about it.
Peter was just telling us about his thoughts
for an International Day,
with all the different parish faiths swapping ideas.
I thought it sounded wonderful.
I'm not sure Finchley Central's quite ready
for Peter's particular bra of evangelism.
No need to be sarcastic, Robert. At least he's trying.
May I offer you some more, Mr. Finley?
How is your room, Mr. Fincham? Did you manage any sleep
this afternoon?
Ben took his driving test today. He did very well.
Just a few things to iron out.
Of course, now we've got the summer holidays ahead of us,
we can spend even more time in the car.
There you are.
How's my grown-up boy?
Your father and I have been talking.
Now that Mr. Fincham's staying with us,
it might be thoughtful if we all contributed a little money
towards getting him back on his feet.
What do you think?
Who is Mr. Fincham?
Mr. Fincham came to me asking for shelter.
He'd heard that I like to help people.
But how long is he staying for?
Darling, he ran over his own wife.
He must take as long as he needs.
I thought if you got a summer job,
you might put some of the money towards helping Mr. Fincham.
Ask yourselves this question.
How is a person truly free until they can think
and act for themselves?
God gave us free will so that we could choose his love.
You see, he wanted us to understand our commitment,
to be grown-up about it.
If you say to me, 'Am I a Christian?'
I say to you,
'If you strive to do good, then you're a Christian.'
Hand brake, mirror, turn.
If you don't seek to hurt or betray others,
you're a Christian.
If you're true to yourself and treat others
as you'd have them treat you,
you're a Christian.
The more a person parades their Christianity
for the benefit of others,
the less I'm inclined to trust
the Christianity they claim to bring.
God tells us
true faith is the freedom to choose truth.
Now, how you express that,
the way, the manner, the means at your disposal,
these things are of no consequence, be you Christian or atheist,
unless in your heart
you are true.
Hello?
Sod you, you little buggers!
Bloody... Bloody hell!
Come on! You utterly sodding bastards, cut!
How are you?
You're Ben.
Found the house all right? Marvelous. Shall we stroll?
Now, then, we talked on the telephone? -Yes.
What did I say?
You said you needed some help round the house.
Did I mention camping?
No. You said you might need an escort.
Yeah, well, I travel occasionally.
Theatrical engagements.
I take it you're a Christian?
Excuse me?
Well, I make it a policy always to advertise in Hello Jesus.
As a single woman, I'm acutely aware
of the dangers of sexual assault by younger men,
though, sadly, God is no longer the insurance policy he once was.
Or am I just old-fashioned? Now, then, a few house rules.
At home, I'm never Dame Eve, only Evie.
Meals are taken in the kitchen, unless I happen to be entertaining,
in which case I shall ask you to serve a few drinks,
some canapes...
I pay 6p an hour, which is a pound more than McDonald's
So if that is unsatisfactory I suggest you go and work for them,
though how you can consider such a thing
in all good conscience, I really don't know.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Sorry... Monday to Friday, 11:00 to 4:00,
and every alternate weekend lunch included.
Yes or no?
Um... Yes.
Oh, excellent.
Well, we do seem to be getting along famously,
don't we, Ben?
Now, I'll show you around.
Hi, Ben.
Hi.
Been swimming?
Um, yeah.
What are you all dressed up for?
I've got a job.
Doing what?
Looking after a lady in Hampstead.
Lucky lady.
So where are you going now, Ben?
I was just walking.
I thought maybe if you were going, we could, you know, walk.
Okay.
See you.
You know, after last Bible class, Peter walked me home.
He says he likes sharing his thoughts with me.
He says there's an incredible witnessing
going on in a church in Hackney.
He says he may take a group of us there next Sunday.
Peter's so great.
Yeah.
He said this, like, black priest
has actually flown over from America
to save the Church of England from itself.
Can you imagine?
That's just so Pete.
You've got lovely hair.
What?
Sorry.
I've wrote you a poem. I've got it here. I could
read it to you, if you like.
It's okay, you can just give it to me.
I can read it later.
I'd really like to read it to you.
Really, it's okay.
It's only five lines.
Go on, then. Quickly.
* You are the harvest, God's water and wheat *
* 'Birds fly for you, sing for you*
* Each wing a beat of my heart for you *
* Felt for you, my clay feet *
* I do not sing for you, do not fly for you *
* I'm not water, I'm not wheat *
* I would be dove, I would be hawk *
* Your milky breasts, my strange meat *
What do you think?
I'm sorry,
but you're just too weird.
You're walking through the desert.
It's very, very ho t.
Walking. Tired.
You're walking and walking and walking.
And then... Over here.
You see a eucalyptus tree.
And then
it's Jesus Christ himself,
carrying his loaves and fishes.
Now, everybody,
quickly, quickly, sitting in the shade of the eucalyptus tree.
Sitting in the shade, sitting in the shade.
I'm so proud of Ben.
Not only has he found a job he's found a job
helping a retired actress.
She's not retired. What's her name again, Ben?
Eve Walton.
She's a dame.
Eve Walton?
Wasn't she with the RSC years ago?
Played Ophelia.
I've really no idea.
Haven't heard her name for a while.
That's not saying much, is it?
r? When was the last time
you went to the theater.
We went to the West England last Christmas.
That was panto.
I'm sure Dame Eve's never done panto.
We must invite her over, Ben.
Perhaps she can help us out with The Story of Christ's Miracles.
On second thought, maybe we should save her for
Peter's International Day.
Give the Muslims something to think about.
Excuse me.
Who is it?
Ben.
Come in.
Mum thought you might like some crumble.
What's that one?
A skylark.
Skylark?
It's found mainly in the Highlands now, I think.
Its call is a sort of chirruping...
It's not to be confused with the woodlark, which has a quieter...
Aye.
Oh, you can borrow the book, if you like.
It's okay.
Well, it's on the shelf. Anytime.
Thanks.
Thanks for the crumble.
God, I loathe gardening.
One beastly patch of grass and my bloody back's in agony.
And whoever made up all these ridiculous Latin names
should be shot.
Floria Fluckabundee.
As if anyone gives a sixpenny suck what the Romans called them.
Stop that bus!
Are these the best available seats?
I must say I prefer to sit nearer the front.
I say, I would prefer to sit nearer the front.
Since nobody appears to be moving, I suppose we shall have to make do.
Goodness me, somebody forgot to wash.
Oof!
Lovely London.
Sweetie? Christmas in a lick.
No, thanks.
For a boy of 17, you show a lamentable lack of curiosity.
No doubt you're suppressed by your upbringing,
but that's hardly enough to explain
what frankly amounts to little short of social autism.
I shall have to imagine your curiosity for you.
You're a healthy 17-year-old boy.
You're not, of course, but you take my point.
You see an attractive woman living on her own.
You wonder, 'Is she a roaring lesbian?'
Answer, no.
For your information, I've been married and divorced three times.
Once to an actor, once to an English lord,
and once to a Californian.
All work flings.
My mistake.
You, on the other hand, might well be gay.
I must introduce you to Dougal, old agent friend of mine.
Hopelessly queer, of course, but the old-fashioned type.
Bent gent.
I'm not gay.
I beg your pardon?
I'm not gay.
Not gay, apparently.
Can I help?
I wish to see your equipment.
My equipment?
Show me everything you've got.
Wait. Stop.
Ben.
Can you put your shoulder under my ass?
Always dreamed of camping, even as a child.
Half in, half out.
Of course, my parents would never have dreamt of it.
The lower middle classes are the worst snobs.
You sound faintly Cockney.
Are you?
No.
No. What are you, really?
I don't know.
I mean, middle class, I suppose.
Nothing to be ashamed of.
Middle classes are the engine room of England.
It's just their parents I can't stand.
'They flee from me that sometime did me seek
'With naked foot stalking in my chamber
'I have seen them gentle, tame and meek
'That now are wild, and do not remember
'That sometime they put themselves in danger
'To take bread at my hand'
Any luck with this one?
Sadly, your prices are beyond us,
but for your aid and succo we thank you.
Look, a camping stove. Come on.
Where on earth have you been? It's 6:00.
I got held up.
Got held up?
We had a driving lesson at 4:00.
You should have let me know.
There was nowhere to call from. If I had a mobile...
Mobiles give you cancer.
Come on. I'll drive.
* If I am alive this time next year *
Read that. We'll have a theory lesson.
* Will I have arrived in time to share *
* And mine is about as good this far *
* And I'm still applied to what you are *
Ben. Where were you this evening?
We had a driving lesson.
Is that all?
Yes.
Ben, are you asleep?
Whatever happens behind these walls, Ben,
we're God's ambassadors.
We show the world a smiling face.
Put it away.
Sorry.
You do not touch my things!
I was tidying.
You do not touch my things!
Yes. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry.
You tidy around them.
Evie? I've got your shopping.
Evie?
- Sink. - Sorry?
- Sink. - Sorry, I...
Sink!
- You all right? - No.
I've got puke in my hair.
Sit me down.
Okay?
No.
Sofa.
It's gonna be all right.
Sod off.
Goody bloody two-shoes.
No.
Stay. Please.
Just till I go to sleep.
Thank you.
* Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning *
* Give me oil in my lamp I pray *
* Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning *
* Keep me burning till the break of day *
* Sing hosanna, sing hosanna *
* Sing hosanna to the King of kings *
* Sing hosanna, sing hosanna *
* Sing hosanna to the King *
Evie.
Quick, quick, come! You'll never believe what I've just found.
I've come to hand in my notice. Yes, yes, later.
Come. Close your eyes. I've got something to show you.
Eyes shut!
Open.
It's a tent.
Not the tent, my books. My Shakespeares, my Chekhovs.
They were in a crate in the living room.
You must have moved them when you were going through my things.
That was one of the reasons...
But nonsense. I thought I'd lost them forever.
I won't lie to you, Ben. Lately, I've found myself
a stranger to the Bard.
I had money problems. My last husband...
Oh, well, be that as it may,
I was obliged to take TV work,
a daytime drama series set amongst wealthy
shipping magnates,
called, rather unimaginatively, The Shipping Magnates.
I believe they still run it somewhere on Sky.
No money in it for me, naturally.
I auditioned for Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
You're Coriolanus. I'm your mother. I disown you.
'This fellow had a Volscian to his mother,
'his wife is in Corioli and his child like him by chance.
'Yet give us our dispatch:
'I am hush'd until our city be a-fire,
'and then I'll speak a little.'
'My sister, my sister...'
'Oh, my dear orchard,
'my sweet and lovely orchard.
'My life,
'my youth, my happiness,
'farewell!
'Farewell!'
'I�ll met by moonlight, proud Titania.'
'What, jealous Oberon!
'Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn
his bed and company.'
'Tarry, rash wanton: am I not thy lord?'
'Then I must be thy lady.'
'Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night!'
'Nay, if you strive...'
'But half an hour!'
'Being done, there is no pause.'
'But while I say one prayer!'
''Tis too late.'
Born to it. Absolutely born to it.
We did Othello at school.
It wasn't like... I mean, it wasn't very good.
The thing is, you don't understand the jealousy bit
until you've actually strangled someone yourself.
Ah, there, you see, the poetry, the pain.
I write poetry.
How intriguing. May I hear one?
I'm not... I mean, I don't know
any off by heart.
Another time, perhaps.
Now, then, I was thinking we could go camping tomorrow.
Somewhere not too far. Try out the old tent.
Something the matter?
How long would we be away for?
Oh, a day. Two days at the most.
Hello, there.
And what brings you here?
Mmm?
Do you think Mum will let me go camping?
Camping?
Why on earth would anyone want to go camping?
To escape?
He can't possibly.
He's got a dress rehearsal with the Guides next week.
He's a tree.
A eucalyptus tree.
Plus, he's got Bible club and his driving lessons to think about.
But I thought you were teaching him. -Precisely.
Well, surely a few days is hardly gonna make
any difference...
Robert, you're not the one trying to run the Girl Guides,
organize a play,
keep house and look after half the over-70s in Finchley.
Sorry, but what does any of that have to do with Ben?
I need him here.
Night, Dad.
Night-night, Ben.
I'm sorry about the camping.
Sometimes your mother can be a little...
Good night, Mr. Fincham.
Bright and early. That's the ticket.
I'm afraid I can't come camping with you.
My mother needs me at home.
I see.
Sorry.
Well, never mind. We can just take a little drive instead.
I take it you drive.
I'm still a learner.
This is wonderful.
This is simply... Just look at all that green!
Just look at it.
It's all so fucking green!
We should probably think about turning back soon.
Oh, there's bags of time. It's not even dark yet.
I really do think we should turn back.
Stop the car!
Stop! Stop!
Good God above, I am in Elysium!
Drive in!
I see now why the working classes kept camping a secret.
Sky. Air.
Their little urchins skedaddling about.
Hello, there.
I'm Evie. I've come camping.
Mum!
There.
Very nice.
If you don't mind, I really think we should
be getting back now.
My mother was expecting me at 6:00.
I can't possibly leave until I've eaten campfire food.
I really do have to say, there's no time left.
There's always time.
Right, that's it. I'm packing up the tent.
I beg your pardon?
I'm taking down the tent. We're leaving.
Car key, please.
Sorry?
Car key.
Okay.
Oh, my God. You've swallowed the key.
What a relief. He swears.
You've swallowed the frigging key!
Better and better.
Choke. Bring it back. You can't do that!
You have to bring it back!
- No, I don't. - Yes, you do!
No, I don't.
Shit. There's a spare set. Where's the spare?
Haven't got one.
How could you do that?
Felt like it.
My mother's gonna kill me.
You don't understand. She said I wasn't to come.
I asked, and she said no.
You don't say yes when my mother says no. You don't do it.
My dear boy,
the key will be back with us in the morning.
I'm regular as clockwork.
Look, if it makes you feel any better.
I'll ring your mother and tell her I went momentarily mad.
No! No.
Whatever you do, do not ring my mother.
As you wish.
I'll have to call home.
Eat first. A soldier fights better on a full stomach.
Have a drink.
I don't drink.
Go on. It'll make you feel better.
No, it won't.
It was a key. I swallowed it. Frankly, you should be flattered.
Now, I insist you have a drink.
I'm underage.
Well, how old are you?
Seventeen and a half.
So young, and so pedantic.
One glass. You can tell God I forced you.
To poetry.
''Auschwitz,' screamed my halting mentor.
''Remember your godforsaken lust
''in their tolled, heaped-up hell.'
''But, but,' I urged...'
That's me.
Yeah.
''But, but,' I urged,
''they have passed us, passed beyond to a better place.'
''Revenge,' he cries, 'is yours,
''but you are blinded by your petty sorrow.'
''Pity me, pity me,' I yelped.
''Your service is inclusive of this testing ground, your soul.''
Then you go back to the narrator.
Mmm-hmm.
'The Church's palpable texts breathe
'their rich, rich grace into your heart,
'and they are precious and beautiful,
'and you must never forsake the thought of God,
'for God is love.'
And you wrote this for...
Sarah. She's a friend. I haven't sent it yet.
She thought my last poem was a bit weird.
Yes.
Well, don't hurry your heart.
That was always my mistake.
What do your parents make of Sarah?
Or perhaps you haven't got that far yet.
To be honest, I'm not really sure
how she feels about me.
Well, you have the soul of a poet,
and that, let me tell you,
lasts a great deal longer than looks.
Hello? Mum?
Ben? Where are you? I was expecting you at 6:00.
I'm on a campsite.
Evie swallowed the car key, and now we can't get back
till she poos it out.
Mum? You there?
I'm calling the police. Where are you?
I don't know. Don't call the police.
I'm fine, really.
Have you taken a tablet? Ben, try to think.
Did she give you a tablet? Something for a headache?
I'm fine. I just can't come back till morning.
Robert, she's kidnapped him! He's somewhere on a campsite.
He sounds drugged.
Mum, I'm fine, honestly.
Don't move. I'm on my way.
Mum, there's nothing wrong with me!
I'm stuck on a campsite, and I can't come back till morning.
Then I'll expect you whenever you can get back.
Good night, Ben.
Mum?
Mum.
* And will I be a part of what you've made
* And I am throwing
* All my thoughts away
* And I'm destroying
* Every bet I've made *
All well?
Fine.
Don't feel guilty.
Guilt's a wicked ghost.
I'm just going for a stroll.
I'll be down the road a little way.
So pack the car up and come out and meet me.
Car key.
Oh, yeah. Right.
Yeah. There we are.
Right.
Your granny said you'd pay.
You could have told me you weren't going to pay.
That campsite manager was a very big man.
If I hadn't had the money... I'll pay you back.
That's not the point! Oh, for goodness' sake.
Anyone would think you'd given blood.
I think it's best I stop working for you.
Oh, why? So you can take up being pompous professionally?
You can pay me what you owe me when we get back to the house.
I'm not going back. I have a poetry recital in Edinburgh.
I'm to take part in a week of readings
at the Literary Festival.
You never said anything about that.
Why should I?
Well, I can't possibly go to Edinburgh.
It's... It's all the way up there.
Nonsense. It's just a few miles on the motorway.
I can't. -Well, that really is most inconvenient.
I'm sorry, I just can't.
Look, I'll drive you to the station,
and I'll get the train home.
I don't drive.
Oh, shit.
You have a car in your garage.
Ex-husband's. The Russian. Very keen skier.
I'm a learner driver. I'm strictly forbidden to drive a car
without a qualified motorist in the vehicle.
Gosh, you really do know all the rules, don't you?
We're breaking the law!
Evie!
Evie?
You okay?
Do you want some water? I'll...
You all right now? What's wrong?
Other than the fact that I have an untreatable
condition, nothing.
What condition? What do you care?
You're going home.
Evie, please, tell me.
Sparing you the details, my tits have
turned into time bombs.
Doctors gave up treating me last year.
My surgeon says it's the worst case he's ever seen.
How long have you got? Did they say?
How long is a piece of hope?
A month?
Three months?
A week?
You're shocked. You're still so young.
To me a week is a year, every moment a blessing.
Well, I expect you'll be wanting
to get back to your mother.
Oh! Where are we off to?
Edinburgh. You've got a recital to give.
* One door opens another shuts behind
* One sun sets and another sun she rises
* Love comes to you in old familiar ways
* Love comes to you in shadows and disguises
* Love may break like a precious string of pearls
* Treasured moments they roll away and scatter
* Make believe that there's ice runs through my veins
* Shrug my shoulders to say it doesn't matter
* And they say it was my turn
* They say I had it coming
* They say that's what you earn
* For living through a lie
* If I could have my way I'd leave it all tomorrow
* There's sorrow if I stay
* I've other fish to fry *
Where the hell is Dryden?
Pull over.
Wait here.
Jewelry on a woman my age is frankly rather vulgar.
Buy yourself a clean shirt. You're my assistant now.
Drive on.
Miss Walton?
I am she.
Hello. Welcome to Edinburgh. I'm Bryony. I'm helping
on the Literary Festival.
Did you have a good journey up?
As good as can be expected. Ben, my assistant, drove me.
I'm afraid we hadn't allow for an assistant.
No, no. I'll take care of that.
Okay, follow me.
So if you want to check yourselves in at the desk,
they should be able to sort you out with an extra room.
Anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask.
Thank you.
Emma, the woman that booked you in, she'll try and pop in and say hello.
She's a bit run off her feet at the moment.
And we'll have a taxi at 11:00 to take you to the venue.
I've got to tell you, I'm a huge fan of your TV show,
The Shipping Magnates.
Yes.
You've seen '80s Night on Sky?
No.
I never miss it. I know all your catchphrases.
'I'm a woman, Leland, not an oil tanker.'
You're huge on the gay scene.
Am I?
Sorry.
So we'll see you tomorrow at 11:00, then?
Bye for now.
You wanted to see me?
Yes, come in.
I thought Dougal would at least have had
the decency to meet us at the hotel.
One doesn't ask much of one's agent.
I need some water.
Thank you.
When I asked you to come with me to Edinburgh,
I may have given the impression
that such things were a regular occurrence.
The truth is, I haven't given any so
rte
of theatrical performance for many years.
I accepted this offer
because I was flattered to be asked.
It now appears I may have misjudged
the reason for my invitation.
What have they asked you to do?
I'm to read from an anthology of love poetry
It's being re-published.
Part of a week of readings entitled 'Forgotten Voices.'
Sounds very nice.
I don't suppose you're familiar with the notion of kitsch.
It's rather popular in literary circles.
However, what's done is done We're here now,
and the show must go on.
I'm sure they'd understand if you didn't wanna go on,
given how little time you have.
Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm going on!
When a woman says she's not going on,
it doesn't mean she's not going on!
I want to go on. I'm just nervous, that's all.
- Sorry. - Yes, well...
As long as you're there, I'll be fine.
Of course I'll be there.
It's silly, I know, but I think
if you weren't there with me I couldn't go on.
You're my poet.
You understand the power of words.
Tomorrow, then.
Tomorrow.
11:00?
11:00.
'I'm a woman, Leland, not an oil tanker.'
Hello. Nice shirt.
Have you stopped slaving yet?
Me, too, thank God. I've just shown my last novelist to his room.
The bugger actually tried to chat me up. Writers are so frigging vain.
You do speak, don't you?
Good.
You fancy a drink?
I should be in bed.
There's a club I sometimes go to. It's just round the corner.
Great.
So shall we go?
Yes.
Hi.
This way.
Come with me.
Sorry.
Jim, the usual, please.
Here. Cheers.
What's your old lady so uptight for?
She's nervous about tomorrow.
Why? She's only reading a couple of poems.
They probably won't even get to her.
Emma's always booking far too many people.
I think Dame Evie wouldn't be very happy
if she didn't get the chance to read.
Dame? She's not a dame, is she?
Yes.
Let's dance.
Oh, I'm okay, thanks.
Come on, it'll do you good.
Use your hips!
Use your arms.
Wiggle your arse.
Come on!
Come on, watch me.
Hey!
Could you believe how hairy that guy's back was?
It's only rented.
Anyone who can afford to buy around here
definitely doesn't work in publishing.
How old are you?
I'm 18 and a half.
Don't mind me asking, but why are you working for an old lady?
Were there no other jobs?
She's my grandmother.
Cool. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude about it.
It's okay.
Is this your first time?
No.
Sorry. I'm sorry.
Come here, you twit.
Explain, please, the meaning of, 'He is not in his room.'
Well, his key's at reception and he's not answering his phone.
Then kindly unlock the door!
I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't do that.
We're not at liberty to unlock a client's door
unless there's an emergency.
And you don't call this an emergency?
With the greatest of respect madam, no.
You were saying?
What's happening?
My assistant is missing in action.
When you find him, I'll be downstairs at La Brasserie Ecosse. Thank you.
Can I get you anything else?
Another.
Hello.
I made you some tea. Do you take sugar?
No.
It's okay, I'm not gonna eat you.
I don't have to be anywhere till after lunch.
How about you? Do you fancy staying in for a bit?
I take it that's a no, then.
- It's 11:30! - So?
I promised Evie I'd be there by 11:00.
- She can go on her own, can't she? - She won't go on without me.
- You're kidding, right? - She means it.
I have to be there before she goes on, or she can't remember her lines.
Ben, she's reading from a book.
It makes no difference. She's completely hopeless
unless I'm in the same room.
Isn't that a bit weird?
She's not weird. She's just nervous.
Relax. She's having you on.
No, she isn't. I promised her I'd be there.
Once you've made a promise, you should keep it.
I'm sorry.
Ben.
Yes?
You're a lovely guy.
Thank you. And thank you for having me.
Stop at an offy. I need a drink.
Miss Walton? Emma Pagent, Vintage Press.
For a moment there, I thought we'd lost you to the Scots.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Vintage Press, in conjunction with Eternal Spring,
the exfoliating cream that gently peels away the years,
are delighted to welcome Miss Eve Walton.
I thought I'd begin today's recital
by reading William Shakespeare's sonnet number 29,
'When in Disgrace with Fortune.'
Sorry. Excuse me.
Sorry.
The Presbyterian Hall off Market Street?
Straight on, second on the right.
I'm sorry. I seem to have...
It's all right. I know it off by heart.
'When indisgrace with fortune and men's eyes
'I all alone beweep my outcast state
'And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
'And look upon myself
'And...'
I'm sorry, very sorry. I know another one.
'Flo, Flo
'I love you so
'I love you in your nightie
'When the moonlight flits across your tits
'Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty'
I'm sorry. I don't know what's the matter.
Ben? Ben, where are you?
Where are you, Ben?
It's okay, I'm here.
Where were you?
I got held up.
You promised me.
I'm sorry.
Get me out of here. Okay.
Where are we?
On the way to Cheltenham.
Cheltenham?
There's another festival there.
But I don't want to go to another festival.
It's all sorted. I spoke to the lady, Emma What's-it,
and explained to her you only had a week to live.
She was really nice about it. She booked you a slot
at the Cheltenham Literary Festival with Martin Amis.
What are you talking about?
I told her. You're not just some cheap soap star from the '80s.
You deserve a better end.
The Cheltenham Literary Festival with Martin Amis?
Jesus Christ! Turn the car round at once and take me home.
No.
What did you say?
When a woman says she doesn't wanna go on,
that doesn't mean she doesn't wanna go on.
Young man, let me make myself quite clear.
Under no circumstances am I giving another recital.
I have humiliated myself quite enough already.
Now all I want to do is go home and shut the door.
You have to climb back on the horse.
What? Climb back on the what?
God wants you to do one more performance before you die.
Stop the car.
You were upset. You lost your nerve.
Next time, I'll go through the pieces with you...
Stop the bloody car!
I will not be bullied, even by an emotional cripple.
I'm not going back. Then I'll walk.
You can't. You're dying.
I am not dying.
You mustn't be afraid of death.
I am not dying!
God embraces all who believe in him,
for they shall have everlasting life.
I am not dying! I made it up!
I forgive you.
Oh, don't be so bloody pompous.
I made a tit of myself. I'm going home. End of story.
Evie.
Evie, where do you think you're going?
Evie, stop. You're in the middle of nowhere.
Then I will cling to the edge of somewhere.
Evie, please. You're worth too much to let yourself go.
Bugger off.
You know I'm right. You can't deny it.
God gave you your talent for a reason.
There is no God, you hopeless little cretin.
God forgives you for that, too.
Let's get one thing clear, sonny boy.
I do the forgiving, not God.
That's a terrible thing to say.
Oh, don't get biblical on me, you pompous fart.
You never read the bloody thing anyway.
I read my Bible every night! Liar!
Liar? You're telling me I'm a liar?
I've never met anyone who lied so much in all my life.
You make up whole people out of thin air.
You said you'd be there at 11:00 and you weren't!
You make up conversations. You make up money.
The one time I really needed you and you let me down!
The one time1
Who were you with that was so bloody important
you couldn't even be bothered to show up?
Who was it?
Bryony.
Take me home.
We can look for a campsite on the way.
I'm sorry.
Come and look.
Evie?
Mmm?
Do you know that picture I found on your desk?
Was that your baby?
What happened?
He died of meningitis when he was two.
What was his name?
Thomas Oliver Walton. Tom.
He had a particular way of speaking.
When he was proud of something, he used to miss words out.
Like once when we were trying to catch a bus.
He was holding my hand, shouting, 'I running.'
Life is confusing.
Just when we think it's all over, it throws a view like this at us
and we don't know where we are.
Shall I bring in the things?
Tomorrow. I'm going to rest now.
I tricked you into going all that way, and you didn't want to go.
I'm sorry.
I had a brilliant time, really.
Tomorrow, then.
You don't have to tell me what happened. I know already.
Some people are wicked, and that's all there is to it.
She isn't wicked.
She's an actress!
I think that says enough.
Of course, I blame myself
for suggesting we try and do something kind for Mr. Fincham.
This is the thanks I get.
My child on drugs, probably abused.
I wasn't abused. I had a really good time.
When you went with that actress,
you left God's house.
While there is breath in my body, you will not leave it again.
Look at me when I'm talking to you!
She needs me. She's my friend.
I could never betray you, Ben.
Don't betray me. Don't be a betrayer.
You may have noticed that Mr. Fincham has started
dressing in my clothes.
We must assume that this is part of his recovery.
Evie, it's me, Ben. I can't make it today.
My mum... Anyway, I'll try and get there tomorrow.
Ben. I have to go now.
Sway.
* Town to town
* Broadcast to each house, they drop your name
Sway.
* But no one knows your face
* Billboards quoting things you'd never say
* You hang your head and pray
* For Jesusland
* Jesusland *
Down.
And one, two, three, up.
Hello. May I help you?
How do you do? I'm Dame Eve Walton.
I was wondering if Ben was in, by any chance.
I'm afraid he's out.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Would you mind telling him I called?
Only he left a message, but I haven't heard from him.
I'm so sorry.
He has no wish to work for you anymore.
I see. Did he say why?
He's found something more appropriate.
More appropriate?
Is that all?
Yes. I'm sorry. Yes.
Please give him my very best wishes.
Thank you so much for calling. Goodbye.
Ben, what would I do without you?
First positions, please. Quick as you can. Quick as you can.
Look at them. I'd like to see Dame Evie do better.
The way she looks, I'd say she was lucky to get a soap opera.
What do you mean? You've never met her.
Mum, did she come looking for me?
On a hot afternoon in the hills of Galilee,
a hungry crowd is gathering in the shade of a eucalyptus tree,
when all of a sudden,
Jesus Christ, the son of God, comes strolling towards them.
We're hungry. ... they cry.
Where can we get food?
Showing them his loaves and fishes,
Jesus smiles and says...
Come unto me, all ye that are heavy lade and I will refresh you.
Ben?
* Well, Jesus was a man who traveled through the land
* A hard working man and brave
* Well, he said to the rich
* Now give your money to the poor
* So they lay Jesus Christ in his grave
* Hah-le, hallelujah
* They lay Jesus Christ is his grave
* Hah-le, hallelujah
* They lay Jesus Christ in his grave
Evie? It's me, Ben.
I've only got a few minutes. I'm in that play at the church hall.
I just want you to know, Mum never told me you called.
Evie, I know you're in there. Please answer the door.
Evie, I need to talk to you.
I only stayed away 'cause I was scared what my mum would do.
Evie! I need you! You're my best friend.
Don't make me go back there, not like this.
Evie?
You silly cow.
Hold on, dear. Bloody hell.
I'm coming! Hang on.
Don't give up! I'm on my way!
Taxi!
Saint Luke's Church Hall, Finchley.
And now, as the final chapter of our story unfolds,
we watch God's angels
surrounding the stone that lies across the mouth of the cave
in preparation for the greatest miracle of all,
Christ's resurrection.
How much is that, dear?
...rolling, rolling, rolling.
Then, as the heavy boulder slips to one side,
Christ steps into the light and God the Father cries...
I've come for my boy!
Shit.
God as a woman. That's so beautiful.
Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you so much.
Oh, thank you.
You are too kind.
Start the finale! The finale! Go!
My friends, my friends!
The time has come for God's son
to say farewell.
Summer's lease has all too short a date
and the leaves on the trees, they are a-stirring.
Yes, Lord!
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
lift yourself up and shout to the skies,
'No, no, I don't wanna be a tree no more!
'No...'
No!
'... I'm gonna be a man.'
Good news, Lord!
Yes, sister. Ain't it good news?
Oh, Lord, good news!
Yes, yes, yes.
No roots to dig me in the ground!
No branches to catch my crown!
I am the son of man,
ain't nobody holding me down!
Thanks for coming.
You stuck by me, I'll stick by you.
Thank you, thank you. Hallelujah! Don't touch my clothes.
Stop her. What do you want me to do?
For Christ's sake!
Thank you, thank you. No, no autographs. Thank you.
Ben Marshall, come back here at once!
Time to go home.
Ben-Ben?
I'm not your Ben-Ben.
Don't be silly, my love.
And I'm not your love.
Ben, stop now, please.
No, I won't stop.
I'm gonna go on and on until everybody knows
just what it's like to live in your life.
Ben.'Be good, be nice. '
And all the bloody time, you're driving round
in Dad's car having sex...
Ben!
Mr. Fincham?
Laura, darling!
Dear Ben, I do hope when you read this letter,
your mother finds herself on the road to recovery.
In the circumstances,
I quite understand that you will feel it inappropriate
to work for me anymore.
Besides, you are your own man now.
Do remember, however odd it all gets, this is only the denouement.
The end is up to you.
To wit, I leave you with this quote,
penned by my dear friend William Shakespeare:
'When the shit hits the fan, get a tent.'
Ben. Come, talk to me.
How are you?
The doctor said the only reason I survived
is because I drive an economy car.
God truly is a friend to the thrifty.
Mum, please.
There's something else I need to tell you.
Your father and I have been talking.
I've prayed to God, and I hear him.
He's telling me to get a divorce.
Ben?
Hiya.
Hi.
I'm next in the prayer chain.
Are you all right, Ben?
Fine.
We all know about your mum and Peter.
If it's God's will...
You're very angry, aren't you?
Don't be. You're still God's gift.
Every day God gives us is a gift.
That's why we call it the present.
Fuck off, Sarah.
- What did you say? - I said 'Fuck off'.
Ben?
What are you doing?
You saw your mother?
Peter's taking her to Cornwall to convalesce.
She said I should visit them sometime.
I think it's better this way.
How can you say that?
After all the shit she put you through, how can you say that to me?
You're my dad. You're meant to stand up for yourself.
You should've divorced her!
You should've told her to bloody well piss off.
I did.
It was me who asked for the divorce.
Ben, I know this is ha rd for you to understand,
but when I made my vows to your mother, I meant what I said,
and though it may seem like very little, I have tried
to be true to my word.
You should've talked to me. I'd have understood.
I'm a poet. I understand the power of words.
Yes.
I think I may move out here for a while.
Good idea. Get a bit of space.
You know, it's a while since I've been camping.
Dad?
I saw a skylark in Scotland.
Really? Do you know, I've never seen one. Did it sing?
Just like you said.
Wonderful.
It was.
I do love you, Ben. Very much.
I love you, too, Dad.
Yes. Good. Yeah, that's good.
Blast you. Oh, for goodness' sake...
Come on!
You blunt little bastards, cut!
Ben!
I wasn't sure I was going to see you again.
I've been a bit busy.
Good.
I can't stay. I'm on my lunch break. I've got a job in a bookshop.
Books. Very apropos.
I'm living on my own now, in the garden.
Excellent. And your parents?
They're my parents.
Yes.
So, any plans?
I'm thinking of going to college.
- Where? - Edinburgh.
To study...
English.
English! Good choice.
I wrote you something.
I'm still experimenting with free verse.
Free verse.
Ah.
'Some mysteries I will never understand
'The way the Earth rotates around the sun
'three minutes short of every day
'Or the way the dead are gone
'Like putting down the phone or turning a corner
'The future
'That's another whopper
'We can never know what we can never know
'Except that whoever you a and whoever I am
'You made it all right to be me'
It's not Shakespeare.
No, dear, but it's lovely, and it's you.
Bye, then.
Goodbye, Ben.
* God, God don't never change
* He's God, and always will be
* God in the pulpit
* God way down at the door
* God in the amen corner
* God all over the floor
* God, God don't never change
* He's God, and always will be
* God spoke to the mountain
* He said how great I am
* He watched me get up this morning
* And skip around like a lamb
* God, God don't never change
* She's God and always will be
* I'm in the middle of the ocean
* On top of the old oak tree
* Everywhere I look
* He's always there
* For me
* God, God don't never change
* He's God, and always will be
* God, God don't never change
* He's God, and always will be
* God, God don't never change
* He's God and always will be
* And always will be
* God, God don't never change
* He's God and always will be
* He's God and always will be *