Uh... engine and gearbox?
Yeah.
£1,000?! You've got to be joking!
I didn't know war had been declared.
- Lovejoy. - Unless the army's delivering writs.
- Are you restoring that? - Restoring?
Oh, yes. Yes.
- Restoring. - Regency.
Yeah, it will be. Will be a very nice piece again.
- Late Regency. - Very late.
- It should have been done this week. - You're a divvy.
- What's in a name, Sergeant? - Major.
- Sergeant Major. - No, the name's Major Chatfield.
- Lovejoy, I'll be honest. - Must you?
- You weren't my first choice. - I rarely am, but I'm unspoiled by failure.
Do you know anything about paintings, pictures?
Well, on a clear day with a following wind, I can tell a Picasso from a Pizarro.
What do you think of this?
Rule 1, always check there isn't a Christie's number on the back.
- It can save a lot of face. - Could you sell it for me?
- No. - Why not?
- I sell antiques. This was done yesterday. - Two years ago actually.
Ashley Wilkes, the Gypsy painter.
Well, he's not actually a Gypo. He's more of a nomad.
Travels with his paints in the back of the van. Only took him two hours.
Really? Talent like that, shame he didn't spend two days on it or two weeks.
- You think he can paint? - I know he can.
- Can you find him for me? - What?
- Find him. - Sell the painting?
Find the artist? I'm not Sherlock Holmes. No.
If he's gone AWOL, try the Salvation Army or the News of the World.
I can't afford publicity, any more than you can afford to turn me down.
- Oh, can't I? - You're behind with your rates.
You owe three months' rent and the bank has started to bounce your checks.
Temporary cash flow.
You owe four dealers in the area that I know of
and you still haven't paid last quarter's garage bill.
- I admire thoroughness. - 200 a day?
Three days in advance.
OK.
Why do you want him found?
I promised him a job if it came up, a mural in the officers' mess.
- When could you start? - You're hustling me.
But I am between jobs.
You're between jobs a lot.
Mm-hm.
- Did he bite? - Yes, I think so.
- "Think"? Either he did or he didn't? - Yes, he bit.
- How long will it take? - He doesn't know.
- You said it was urgent? - Of course.
A serving major in the British army, all spit and polish, looking for an artist?
I should cocoa. To paint a mural?
Biggest load of cobblers I've heard in years.
Still, the money's useful.
Come to think of it, any money's useful.
(Tinker) Why get involved? (Lovejoy) I'm intrigued.
It only took him two hours.
(Tinker) Blimey! (Lovejoy) Exactly.
How do we find him, Tink?
You'll have to go on the knocker.
Oh, no. Life's too short.
It is for the Morris. I'm sure of that.
- Pity Eric's not here. - Yeah.
- Where is he? - He's in Wales.
- What's he doing? - Thank you, love.
- Fishing. - We should bait a couple of hooks ourselves.
I've already done that.
- Called Lisa at the Advertiser. - Don't you owe her?
- Of course. This is her chance to break even. - That's what you said last time.
Whose side are you on, Tink?
What did you put in?
"American buyer wishes to purchase genuine Ashley Wilkes for cash."
Old US dollars, the greenbacks.
- Should get their greedy little minds working. - Yeah.
Ashley Wilkes...
Are you sure you don't know him?
Works out the back of his jam jar.
So does the double-glazing man, Lovejoy, but is it art?
(Door closing)
(Footsteps approaching)
(Woman) Hello. You there!
I'm talking to you!
- Me? - You. What are you doing?
Oh, a daub or two.
An ill-favored thing, but mine own.
- Shouldn't you have asked? - Asked?
You'd have me ask God if I can paint the sky next.
It's my cottage, not God's.
The most attractive I've seen all summer.
Oh, you think so?
Oh, yes.
Yes, it's beautiful.
The proportions, it's like a handsome face. It has structure.
Looks good now. It'll look good in 50 years.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
How long will it take?
Well, you know what they say. You can't hurry art.
Oh, I'm not trying to hurry you. It's just that I have to go out later.
That's all right. I've got everything I need, palette, easel, subject.
Do you ever sell them? The finished canvases.
Occasionally.
Perhaps before you leave, you'd knock on the door?
Maybe I could beg a cup of something.
It might be arranged.
- You should do that more often. - What?
Smile. It lights up the day.
Your skin has a luster that you don't often see outside porcelain.
- What's your name? - Oh, Wilkes.
Ashley Wilkes.
And then I thought we could slip over to Orford.
Orford?
- What's at Orford? - What, apart from us?
Oysters. They grow them in Buttley Creek.
Sounds good.
And then, I thought, perhaps a little salmon,
cured over oak.
Mm... Think I'd like to be cured over oak?
You're not ready for the cure.
- I'm not? - No.
You're far too wicked.
Thank goodness.
- Where's Harry? - Germany.
- When's he back? - Not till Friday.
Why not pop round on Thursday?
I can hardly wait.
Hm... One of yours?
Good God, no! It's Lovejoy.
- Who's he? - Local peasantry.
Excuse me. Why don't you browse a bit?
Good God, Lovejoy, haven't you got shot of this motor yet?
Miriam has only had one previous owner, who happens to be a real lady.
You look as if you're delivering King Edwards.
Why not do the decent thing, have her put down?
Shh! I will, when I can afford to replace her.
- Things can't be that bad, surely? - You want a bet?
- How's it looking? - You tell me.
Oh... (Chuckling)
Yes. Good. Very good.
Mmm. 30 percent mark-up and you didn't even have to dirty your donnies.
Um... Lovejoy...
- Brass handles. - What about them?
How does one... age them?
Depends on which one we're talking about, this one or this one?
Ah. Find yourself a local farmer with a muck-spreading tank.
- Muck? - Best way.
- Are you having me on? - No. It's the ammonia in the cow piss.
- Do you mind? - Life is real, dude.
Well, it doesn't have to be that real.
Ashley Wilkes, painter, contemporary. Have you heard of him?
- Ashley Wilkes? - Yeah. I need to find him.
Name's familiar.
There was a Wilkes used to run a weekend art school on a farm near Braintree.
- You sure? - Yes, unless it was a different Wilkes.
Uh... shouldn't you, uh... be somewhere?
No.
(Chuckling)
Oh, Alec...
Do you think he uses unleaded?
(Answering machine) Hello, Mr. Lovejoy. This is Alison Jukes.
I have an antique shop in Lisden.
I also have an Ashley Wilkes if you care to come and have a look at it.
- Heads. - Tails it is. I'll take Miss Jukes.
- You take Braintree. - Braintree?
- Yeah. Why not? - How am I going to get there?
- Your bike's outside. - I can't bike to Braintree!
No excuses, Tink. You've always wanted to be a painter.
- Have I? - Yeah.
- I must have forgotten. - This is your big chance.
Go down a hick, come back a Hockney.
- It'll cost you. - Use the bread you owe me.
- But you owe me! - Well, use that, then.
I asked him to call as soon as he knew something.
(Car horn)
(Buzzer)
- Love the Ince and Mayhew. - Good.
- What about the secretaire? - Ahem.
Go on.
Well, some you win, some you don't.
- You don't think it could be genuine? - It could.
But you don't think so?
- It is signed. - In Biro?
Please!
J.H. Riesener.
- It's even spelt right. - Well, it's signed, but not by him.
I'd stake my name on that.
- Which is? - Lovejoy. We spoke earlier.
- Is this what you're looking for? - Oh, that's my boy.
He's got a thing about Suffolk cottages.
I bought it from a local man in part exchange.
- May I ask who? - I thought you were interested in the painting.
The painter actually.
What's in it for me? I run an antique shop, not a dating agency.
- I could help you move the Ince and Mayhew. - No help needed, thank you.
- How about the William Derby sketch. - No thank you.
- What can you do for me with the secretaire? - Oh, no, no.
Now, we both know that's known in the trade as an own goal.
- It can happen to the best of us. - You're a big help.
Well, as Nelson said, "You've got to have an eye for it."
Mr. Lovejoy, I don't think we're going to do business.
- All I want is an address. - Well, I suggest you try British Telecom.
Or the Post Office.
Hello. You know, you should always check the pockets of things that you buy.
I always do.
George III, 1787, Spade guinea piece.
Now, you don't get many of those for a quid.
Thank you, very much.
I once found a child's amber pendant in a lady's reticule.
It's now in Bury Museum.
How about that address?
Oh, hello. Can I help?
Um...
- Art classes. - Yes, that's right.
Uh... I've come to enroll.
- I'm not another Gauguin, I'm afraid. - Very few around this year.
A Mr. Wilkes, Ashley Wilkes, does he still teach?
Yes. You're in luck. He's only here on Sundays.
- Are you involved? - No, not any longer.
It's in the barn, over there.
Hello.
My name's Lovejoy.
- I've nothing to sell. - I'm not buying.
- Nor do I want to buy. - I'm not selling.
You sold a painting recently of your cottage by an artist called Wilkes.
What about it? It was mine to sell.
Oh, I'm interested in finding Wilkes.
- Why? - A client of mine's offered him a commission.
He did it a couple of summers ago. My wife bought it.
Oh. Maybe it's her I should be talking to.
Chance would be a fine thing.
You never met him?
- No. - Sorry? You never met him?
I wouldn't have forgotten.
- And that's all you have to say? - That's all.
What's this called?
- Robert le diable. - Thought so.
(Sighing)
It's just possible that he's some kind of journalist.
(Inaudible)
(Knock at the door)
- Hello. - Hello.
It's going to rain.
- Can you feel it in your bones? - No. I heard it on the radio.
- Lovejoy. - I hope you can make your pitch outside.
- Why's that? - I'm told I have to be careful who I let in.
- I've never mugged a client yet. - But I'm not a client yet.
Were you this cautious with Ashley Wilkes?
- Do you know anything about ivory? - Enough to know I don't want to touch it.
- This one's started to crack. - That's the central heating.
- Seriously? - Got to keep ivory humid.
See where it's been mended before?
Love a cup of tea.
- What? - Tea.
- Earl Grey in a bag? - Terrific.
- Lemon? - Oh, no. Milk with three lumps, please.
Cute.
- Why hide it? - It embarrasses me.
- How come? - Do I have to?
I can't force you.
I was conned. Makes me angry to admit it.
- How did he work it? - Oh...
I came down. He was outside painting.
I suppose I was flattered.
Next thing I know, it's out with the check book and I bought it,
literally, metaphorically and every other which way.
- Good with the chat, eh? - He could sell snow to Eskimos.
- Seen him since? - No, and I don't want to.
- And you're still angry. - Yes! I was old enough to know better.
I've no excuses.
That's good. Good.
Yes, that's excellent.
He drives around in an old banger, you know, Wilkes? Ex-GPO van.
Damn good wicket if you ask me.
And you've never seen him since?
Now, other people in the village, they bought pictures too, right?
I believe so, yes.
- Let's give you the other half, Mr. Lovejoy. - I shouldn't really. I'm driving.
I'll fetch it.
I buy a barrel every summer from Gabby's farm.
Mr. Lovejoy...
...about this painting, as straight as I can make it...
...the £200,
one of the best investments I've made in years.
No, no, no, not one of the best...
...THE best.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it's um...
...revitalized our marriage.
Revitalized it. Do I need to say more?
No. I've always believed that art should have a therapeutic effect.
Yes. (Laughing)
Yes. Very good!
(Humming)
(Woman) You'll never finish them.
- One day. - Oh, yeah?
No, you'll see. The Japanese collectors will be falling over themselves.
(Japanese accent) Ah, Wilkes-san, toast of Osaka, Yokohama, Kyoto, Shanghai...
- That's China. - Ah, very big in China too.
- Give it a year. - What?
Drop everything for a year.
Finish them.
End of the summer. Maybe.
Words, so many words.
You got anything on this week?
Much the same as the last one and the one before that.
Why not finish the watercolor of the church?
- I didn't realize you'd seen that. - Mm.
- Well? - Well what?
- The picture. What do you think? - It's good.
Good good or just good?
No, it's good. Stanley Spencer-ish.
- Really? - Really.
- Not just saying that? - It's the one thing I don't lie about.
- Do you have to go? - Well, I've just heard the weather forecast.
Sunny spells. It's going to be a good week.
What's all this about?
- Tell me. - I suddenly remembered how it used to be.
Two years is a long time in politics.
Crazy. I must have been out of my mind.
- Why? - Women always think they can change men.
Why don't we ever learn?
There's been a lot of loving and leaving.
You were the one that I didn't leave.
- Cos I wouldn't let you. - I took you with me.
Is that supposed to mean something?
That's for you to decide.
Ciao for now.
Have you got your corn plasters?
Ah... unworthy of you.
I may not be here when you get back.
- Who says I'm coming back? - You're a bastard.
Through and through.
- And a shit. - Never been any doubt.
Shop!
Oh, I didn't mean to wake you up, Tink.
I can't make up my mind whether to cycle more or give it up entirely.
- How did you get on? - I graduated. With honors.
- That was quick. - They don't hang about.
Landscapes, two to three, still lives, three to four, nudes four...
- Nudes?! - You should have seen him.
- Him? Yeuch! - Yeuch was right.
- Now, what about Wilkes? - I met him.
- You met him? - Face to face.
- And what's he like? - The women drool.
Ah... So I hear.
Why don't you tell the Fuhrer where he is?
No, no, no, Tink. Another day, another 200 dollars.
How did you make out at the antique shop with Miss Jukes?
I nearly didn't.
Use it or lose it, Lovejoy.
I had to produce one of those George Ills, you know.
That I happen to have made last week.
Very timely, Tink. Very timely.
Oh, he's a con man, isn't he, Tink, eh?
Pound to a penny.
I mean, I found a bloke who's lost his wife.
I found a wife who's lost or misplaced her husband.
Leaves a trail of storm damage in his wake, does our Ashley.
- Sounds like you. - I was just going to say that, Tink.
- Give him a reminder. - He said he'd call.
Call him. Tell him to get his finger out.
- You think it'll help? - Just do it, Major.
Time is of the essence, right?
(Phone ringing)
(Answerphone) This is Lovejoy Antiques.
(Answerphone beeps)
Lovejoy, Major Chatfield at 1500, on the 18th.
No news, and in this case, that's not good.
I'd appreciate a sit rep as soon as possible.
Ring me at home or in the office, not later than 2200. Out.
(Blows raspberry)
(Car approaching)
That's good. Very good.
- The canvas or? - Both.
- You must be Roz. - I am, but I must warn you, Mr...
- Just Lovejoy. - I've had it from experts.
I am immune to charm and flattery and cajolery.
I can see I'm on the right trail. I'm looking for Ashley Wilkes.
Oh, yes. Well, as far as this is concerned, he taught me all I know.
- He's not the world's worst painter. - He could be great if only he'd concentrate.
Well, it sells well enough.
- You only hear about the successes. - Ah.
Scores of them, you see?
Norfolk cottages, Suffolk cottages.
Essex cottages. Hundreds of the bloody things.
- He, uh... He did this? - Yeah.
- These? - Mm-hm.
Why doesn't he ever finish anything?
Because there's always another pretty face, pair of legs, tight little bottom.
- This could get bitter. - All too easily.
Do you know where he is now?
Yes. Charming the pants off another unsuspecting sucker.
Is that how you see yourself, a sucker?
No, not really. We had some great times, lots of them.
My life was pretty dull, you know, before I met him. Khaki.
But now, never knowing where he is, who he's with...
- Too exhausting. - These are really good, you know.
- Tell him. He'd love to hear. - If I ever find him, I will.
(Wilkes) So, what have I got here?
This is Pilgrim's House. That's Mrs. Robinson's.
A likely lass?
What about that one?
Oh, that's Arthur Ryland's place. He's a superintendent in the police.
- Lives alone with a couple of Labradors. - No, I don't think so. What about that?
Oh, that's Plum Tree Cottage.
Annabel Scott. You remember.
She used to do the weather on the local telly.
Ah, yes.
Does she have an eye for art?
Art, Tom, Dick, Harry...
No Mr. Scott?
No. He departed in one of the many squally showers.
- So you'll want the room for the week? - Of course. What about that one?
Ah, that's the Wilsons'. He's something in the city.
You know, this art business,
it's dead scientific, isn't it?
Well, there's no percentage in wasting a lot of time and paint
and then discovering the place is inhabited by Philistines.
(♪ Retreat)
- Hello. - Morning.
- My name is Lo... - Lovejoy.
- Yeah. - We've not met.
You were pointed out to me.
Across a crowded room?
That sort of thing.
Come in.
Ashley Wilkes.
- Yes. - You know him?
We... met.
- Two summers ago? - Two.
You came home, or you spotted him,
and there he was, busy, painting away.
That's it exactly.
- 200? - Less.
I don't think I could raise 200 at the time.
Why the interest?
I want to find him. Urgently.
I don't suppose you know his address or his telephone number.
(Chuckling)
Why are you laughing?
Phone numbers and addresses are for the vox pop, like mortgages and gas bills.
Ashley Wilkes was not like that.
- - Not like that at all. - (Door opening)
(Man) Darling? - In here.
A long time since you called me darling, Alec.
- What are you doing here? - We were chatting.
Are you a friend of Harry's?
No.
What were you chatting about?
What's that?
- Ashley Wilkes. - The chappie you were asking me about?
Very one.
Well, it's not awfully good.
- With respect. - At least you're consistent.
What about the art school and farm, and all that?
He's only there at weekends.
Oh. Sorry about that.
- Any suggestions? You have a lot of contacts. - (Alec) I'm too busy.
- Don't tell me everyone's got one of these. - Practically everyone.
He applies the double-glazing principle to painting.
You know, "Our rep's in your area, masterpiece by teatime," etc, etc.
- Was that how it happened? - Sort of.
Afternoon.
Hello.
- Lovely day. - It's a beauty.
So still you can hear the grass grow.
What made you choose this cottage?
It's the prettiest I've seen.
Really?
It's mine.
Is it?
- Do you object? - Of course not.
It grieves me I can't do it more justice.
Oh, I don't know.
You're being too critical. I think it's pretty good.
Damned good.
An ill-favored thing, but mine own.
Do you ever sell them?
It's been known.
Perhaps when it's finished, you'll show it to me.
My pleasure.
I'm just going to make some tea. Would you like a cup?
I'd love one.
Lovejoy!
Took you longer than I expected. Two minutes longer.
- It's most embarrassing. - Well, I'm not embarrassed.
I am.
Deborah...
- Debbie, my friend... - Oh, as in just good.
- Don't make this more awkward. - I'm sorry.
- I'm sure I don't need to spell this out to you. - You don't?
- You know what I'm talking about. - I haven't a clue.
For God's sake, man. She's still married.
Oh, Harry! Lovely fella!
- You said you didn't know him. - No, no, no, no. He's one of my best mates.
Oh, God!
- But don't worry, I wouldn't fink on you. - You wouldn't?
No! He's got this terrible temper.
Have you seen that trick he does with the poker?
- Poker? - Yeah, but there'll be a price for my silence.
- Ashley Wilkes? - You're not too busy, are you?
I'll find the bastard.
- (Knock at the door) - Come.
- Time's winged chariot, Major. - I'm doing the best I can.
- We said by the end of today. - For God's sake, man! It's been two years!
Important names are involved.
- A household name. - You told me.
Twist Lovejoy's tail.
Or we'll cut it off.
It's around here somewhere, Tink.
(Phone ringing)
Don't!
(Answerphone) This is Lovejoy Antiques.
(Answerphone beeps)
Hello. Lovejoy, it's Statham, about your friend, Ashley bloody Wilkes.
- Sorry. I was just seeing off a client. - 0h.
- I've got a lead. - Wonderfull
An auctioneer in Ipswich, an art buff,
says there's a Wilkes living above a pub near Basildon.
- The same Wilkes? - I think so. The pub's called The Dun Cow.
- I don't know if he's there now. - Right, leave it with me.
- Uh... Lovejoy, are you still there? - Yeah.
I've checked with Debbie. She says you don't know Harry.
- Harry? - Her husband Harry.
And they don't even own a poker.
- Ashley Wilkes? - Yeah.
Lovejoy. Antiques.
- Well, I'm not as young as I used to be, but... - You do just fine.
- Oh, no sense complaining. - May I?
Yes, yes.
- You're a hard man to find. - Looking in the wrong places.
Well, Joanna didn't know where to find you.
Annie didn't,
nor Deborah, not even Roz.
Uh... my two weaknesses, painting and, uh...
Business and pleasure. You know what they say.
Oh, they're meant to be mixed. Freud says so.
Work and love, it's what makes the world bubble.
I've got a theory about you.
Oh, yes?
These cottage paintings, these two-hour jobs,
they're a blind to hide something.
Like what?
That you don't want to devote real time to real pictures like those abstracts in the barn.
Hm... I haven't tried that style in years.
You scared of failure?
Not of theory.
If you concentrated on that style instead of those pot boilers, who knows?
I'd be proud to represent you.
- Is that why you're looking for me? - Partly.
Someone wants to find you.
A major in the army.
- Men's army? - Men's army.
Says he promised you a commission.
In the army?
To paint a mural at the officers' mess.
I wouldn't forget that.
Will you meet him?
I can call him. This will only take an hour.
Well, why not? Looks like rain.
Yeah. Rain stops play.
What's the secret of your success?
Three little letters.
H.R.T.
- What? - Hormone replacement therapy.
I know what it means.
It's no exaggeration to say it's, uh...
...it's changed my life, revolutionized it.
- It's supposed to change women's lives. - Oh, it does. It does.
Sauce for the goose, and the gander.
You care to explain that?
- Strictly between us, though. - Ashley.
Well, thanks to hormone replacement,
there's a whole generation of
beautiful, mature, experienced
sophisticated, wealthy women,
all reveling in their new-found sexuality.
Most of them are neglected.
Their husbands are off, trying to pull the pants off some feather-brained temp
while they have
permanent ravers of their own at home,
waiting,
motors revving.
All that sexual energy with nowhere to go.
You're almost a social worker.
- Ashley Wilkes, this is Major... - I think we all know who we are.
I should have brought a horse whip or a pistol!
Uh... Lovejoy said you wanted to commission me for a mural.
Where is she?
- Who? - You know.
- Major, on my honor... - You don't even know what that word means.
- I haven't a clue. - Roz.
Roz?
- Roz. - Yes.
Roz. Uh...
I'm sorry, I didn't realize.
Ah. The penny's dropped.
Are there so many?
This bargain-basement Lothario did a painting of our cottage.
Not only did he take me for £200, he also took my wife.
- Roz left because she was bored. - Nonsense. How could she be bored?
She was always on the move, always somewhere different.
14 moves in what was it, 17 years?
Pickford's saw more of her furniture than she did.
- (Major) I'm a soldier. Soldiers move. - She wasn't a soldier.
(Major) She knew what to expect. Her father was a soldier.
Moving is an occupational hazard.
Well, she's moved out, and that's a hazard.
What a non-life...
being snotty to juniors, crawling to seniors,
even losing a ping-pong tournament because you were playing the colonel and his wife.
Ah, no, no, no, not his wife, his lady.
Did you know that, Lovejoy? Officers don't have wives. They have ladies.
NCOs have wives. Other ranks have women.
- I want her back. - Next time I see her, I'll tell her.
We don't live together anymore.
Give me a number, somewhere where I can talk to her.
No.
I'll tell her to call you, if she wants.
If I haven't spoken to her by tonight, I shall come looking, fully armed.
That's not a threat. It's a statement of intent.
You still owe me 200 quid.
When you deliver Roz.
- I knew I'd never like the army. - Yeah, me too.
- So, that's why you were looking for me? - Apparently.
She'll never go back to him, will she?
Nah. I doubt it.
Like I doubt you'll get your 200.
I wouldn't be too sure about that.
Come on. Drive you back.
- You all right, Tink? - Hello, sweetie.
Do you ever go to the cinema, Lovejoy?
- What? - Do you ever go to the cinema?
Yeah, about 7.9 times per annum on average.
You ever see Gone With The Wind?
Everybody's seen Gone With The Wind.
- Well, at least part of it anyway. - But you fall asleep?
Always, and always in the same bloody place.
Now, I'm in great shape up until the burning of Atlanta,
and then the old minces start to close when Scarlett returns to Tara.
(Southern accent) "With God's help, I'll never be hungry again."
Could be you talking from then on, Tink.
What character does Leslie Howard play in Gone With The Wind?
How the hell do I know?
Leslie Howard plays...
(Both) Ashley Wilkes.
Even his name's a lie!
Oh, you shall go to the ball, Tink.
♪ Ya tie ta-tum
(Both) ♪ Ya tie ta-tum
All together now...
(Both hum Tara's Theme from Gone With The Wind)
♪ Ta-tie ta-tum ♪
- Mr. Lovejoy. - Isn't he in?
- May we have a word? - Inland Revenue?
No.
- You'd better come in. - Thank you.
OK, CID?
Ml5? Ml6? CIA? FBI?
Come on, come on. I'm running out of alphabet.
Take your pick. We'd like you to do something for us, Lovejoy.
- Would you? - Yes.
What's in it for me? I don't work for God, Queen or country, only for cash.
- Tell him what's in it for him. - Continued good health.
Oh, I knew it would be one of those smartass answers.
A vasectomy means never having to say sorry.
I'm sorry.
We want to talk to Roz Chatfield.
- What's stopping you? - Yu know where she is. We don't.
Maybe she doesn't want to talk to you.
- You could persuade her. - Why should I?
You've got previous, my son. I believe you have a record.
I don't suppose it would do any good saying I was framed, would it?
No.
They reckon prison pallor never leaves the skin.
You've done well. Second time, it's not so easy.
I could grow to like you.
You do what we say, fine.
If you don't, we'll have you in and out of Brixton like a bread van.
Stop threatening me. I scare easily.
Get her to the barracks first thing tomorrow. Yes?
By the right.
Right. Wheel.
Yes.
Will you take me home?
Sure.
So, what was it all about?
My father was a brigadier, and after he died,
they discovered he'd removed some documents from the Ministry of Defence.
What sort of documents?
I can't tell you that, I'm afraid.
Official secrets.
OK.
Oh, well...
My father was a young officer in Malaya during the emergency,
you know, during the '50s?
And uh... there was this little village, Batang Kali,
and the patrol from his regiment took some prisoners,
workers on a rubber plantation,
25 Chinese men and women.
So?
Well, apparently, the next day, they tried to escape.
They were all shot.
- All of them. - All 25.
Dead?
- None wounded? - Not one.
One other officer who was out there with him is now...
well, let's just say a prominent citizen.
Ah, so they don't want those documents turning up where they shouldn't,
like in the tabloids?
That's right.
So, where are they now?
Um... Andrew... Major Chatfield burnt them.
- Burnt them? - Yes.
When he found out about Wilkes, he burnt everything of mine,
clothes, make-up, paint...
He even burnt my rowing machine.
(Gears grinding)
- You need a new gearbox. - Someone just bought me one.
- Who? - You.
Most kind. Thank you.
Close, isn't it?
Yes. Very still.
High temperature and humidity.
There's a ridge of high pressure over the North Sea.
- May I? - Yes. Help yourself.
Oh, but that's good. That's really good.
A poor thing, but mine own.
Tink, you, uh?
No, no. If she likes it, I get free booze for the whole summer.
An ill-favored thing, sir, but mine own.