He's leaving now. Wait there.
Ransom Magazine. Can l help you?
Bollocks to the lot of you.
- lt's three in the morning. - Thanks for the texts.
- Tom, you shouldn't be here. - Texts, Jane.
My world's fallen apart. l've lost my job.
''Hope all's well.''
Well, funnily enough, it isn't.
l tried calling.
Let me in, please.
Go home.
l want to stay the night.
You can't. David's flying in first thing.
Just leave him. He's a prick.
Tom, no. Stop it.
- Just let me in. - No!
Let's not complicate this, like you said to me.
Lt was just sex, nothing more.
Shithole.
Jesus, you must be in the shit.
- Finally sacked you, then? - Yep.
Can't say l'm surprised.
Thanks, sis.
Let's face it, Tom, you had it coming.
Only so long you can behave like a prick before people get tired of it.
- How are you? - Fantastic. Top of the world.
- Life couldn't get peachier. - Did you ever consider decorating?
- l've been busy. - Wendy! Wendy!
- l've seen it somewhere... - Where is he?
- His study. - Who's he talking to?
Wendy, his assistant.
lt's bound to be here.
- You going to go up and see him? - Lt won't be far away.
Will he care?
Right. Give us a hand here.
Wendy.
Wendy!
Well, where have you put it?
Well, you had it last, l'm sure. l haven't seen it.
A-ha! Yeah, alright, alright.
Should do the trick.
Wendy, where is it? l'm looking for the Sanderson.
Why can't we have a proper filing system here?
Wendy.
Where's Wendy?
- She's gone. - Gone? Gone where?
- Just gone. - Well, get her back.
Dad.
Dad, it's me, Tom.
Your son, Tom.
Tom.
Tom! Oh, good to see you. Great to see you.
Thanks so much for coming.
How was your journey?
Yeah, it was OK. Lt was fine. No problems.
- Where's Wendy? - Wendy's not here, Dad.
- Where is she? - She's gone.
Gone? Gone where?
Wendy!
You didn't tell me he had invisible friends.
l stopped telling you anything. l can tell you haven't been interested.
This last couple of years he's just gone really downhill, really fast.
His memory, his coordination. lt's like he's not really him any more.
- Same curtains. - What?
Ln here. Same curtains. What happened to all my posters?
- Your posters? - Yeah.
Huge ones. Picasso, Klimt, a couple of artistic nudes.
- He burned them, burned everything. - He burned them?
Yeah, he was real fun to live with after you walked out.
- He burned them? - Don't worry.
You can find a naked woman on the internet if you're that desperate.
So what's this Wendy thing all about? She was his secretary?
1 5 years. When he was deputy on the Evening News.
His head seems to be stuck in that time.
- Where is she now? - Nobody knows.
She just quit, walked out, never to be seen again.
He occasionally screams in the night.
Don't worry, he's not in any pain, not physical.
And if you hear him clattering about, it's probably because he's sleepwalking,
so my advice would be to stay put.
Nance...
He has good days, though, right? l mean, he's not like that all the time?
That is a good day.
- All I'm asking for is loyalty. - Selfish, destructive.
- You can't just walk away. - Think of your family.
l need you to help me. Wendy!
You coward. Yeah, that's right, run away.
Crawl back to your pathetic little life.
You want to know about the bad days, Tom?
Where he doesn't wash, doesn't shave,
where he spits his tablets down the toilet and I have to fish them out.
Or the incontinence days or days where he stays in bed and refuses to move.
The mood swings days, the aggression days,
the hallucinations, the uncontrollable tears,
and the way that sometimes you get glimpses, just glimpses, of the old Dad
and then it's gone in an instant.
So go this time, Tom, and I promise you you'll never see him again.
I will let him die, I will put him in the ground and will not ring you.
What happened?
l screwed up.
Women, drugs, writing?
All of the above.
l imploded, wasn't in control any more.
l was writing about crap.
Not even benign crap.
Malicious stuff, hatchet jobs.
That's not journalism.
Not the sort that he used to do.
Not the sort that l wanted to do.
- Plus... - Ah, there had to be a plus.
What was her name?
Jane.
She was kind of...
..married to the boss.
What can l say? She was hot.
Washed-up, embittered hack.
Like father like son.
- Are you going somewhere? - Two weeks in the Seychelles.
- Have fun. - Think l'm joking?
l'm going to drink wine, lie by the pool
and have sex with the first man who offers.
Nancy, look, l know you're pissed off that l left, l understand that, but...
- Why have you got my car keys? - l'm taking your car.
What, to the Seychelles? Think you might need to check the oil.
- Where's your car? - l can't afford one.
Tax, insurance and MOT. How far do you think carer's allowance stretches?
- Where are you going? - Holiday.
- Where? - Somewhere out of mobile range.
lt'll be good for you. Think of it as therapy.
- Alright, you've made your point. - (revs engine)
- Have l? - Loud and clear.
Great. There's instructions on the kitchen table.
Morning.
For God's sake.
Hang on.
- Why do you need a screwdriver? - To fix the shelves.
- What shelves? - The broken ones.
- Where? - Conservatory.
- Which conservatory? - My conservatory.
You haven't got a conservatory.
- A-ha! - That's a chisel.
- Screwdriver. - Chisel.
- Screwdriver. - lt's a bloody chisel!
lt's a screwdriver.
Dad. Dad.
Where's it gone?
The conservatory was in your mum's house.
Lt was in Gran's house.
Doesn't work.
Lie down. Lie down.
Dad, lie down. lt's bedtime.
Dad, lie down. lt's ten o'clock.
Nancy said if you don't go to bed at ten o'clock you get cranky...
Nothing changes, does it?
l want Nancy!
Don't we all?
You useless little shit!
Me useless?
You're the one who can't wipe his own arse!
Trust you. Trust you to get this!
You couldn't get something quick like heart disease or cancer!
No, you have to make us all suffer, don't you? You selfish old twat!
l don't suppose you know where l could get hold of some decent coke?
You...
What's this, rehab?
Pint of lager, please.
And a whisky chaser.
And whatever you're having.
Busy for a Thursday.
Why do pubs always have telly on? lf that was sport, fair enough.
But what's that, Question Time? With no sound.
- And they're all watching it. - £4.90.
£4.90. No wonder the place is full.
l recognise you.
Doubt it.
l'm a long-distance lorry driver, just passing through.
Tom Ronstadt. We were at school together.
Mandy Craven.
- Right. - You shagged my sister.
Right.
- Who's your sister? - Tara.
Right. Tara Craven.
- Yeah, she was nice. - You don't remember her, do you?
Not really. Was she...
- What? - You know, auburn.
- Ginger? Yeah. - Right.
You dumped her for that slapper Sarah Maguire.
Sarah Maguire.
She's dead now. Overdose.
- Who, Tara? - Sarah.
Oh, right. What was it, heroin?
Bleach. She had some weird OCD kind of deal.
lronic, given what a dirty cow she was.
- So how's Tara? - She's fine.
She married an accountant. She lives in Hartlepool.
Well, someone has to.
- Mandy... - lt's alright, l'm on the pill.
- No, Mandy... - Stop talking.
I'm starting to think I haven't asked enough questions.
Like what the hell I'm doing back here after all this time.
And why I needed to see you again.
Maybe if l can understand why you're such a fuck-up,...
..l can work out why l am.
Remember that holiday?
Abersoch.
We stayed in that posh hotel.
What was it called?
lt's the holiday that always stays with me.
lt's probably rose-tinted.
But it felt like we were actually...
..happy.
No rows.
No tension.
None of your outbursts.
What changed, Dad?
We were happy, weren't we?
And then it all fell apart.
What's my name?
Tom.
And that's Nancy.
Nancy Jennifer.
We're your family.
Family.
What happened to us?
Bayside Lodge.
- What? - The hotel.
Terrible service.
There was a bloody great peacock in the beer garden.
Nancy, wherever you’re hiding, come back.
Look, l'm going to stay, OK?
I'll help out with him.
You can have nights off,
go and get laid... whatever it is you're missing.
Don't... Just leave it.
Just please, come back.
- What are you writing? - l'm shaming the devil.
What do you mean?
''There can be no higher law in journalism
than to tell the truth and shame the devil.''
Walter Lippmann. A great man.
So if we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly, right?
We're in the shit financially, bills beyond red,
respite-care debts, envelopes l don't even want to look at.
- Has he not got any savings? - Spent.
- On what? - You tell me.
- Pension? - Tiny.
Only just covers the household stuff.
Which means no more spunking it on drugs.
l stayed at your flat.
l could go out for the weekend on what's left on the cistern.
Fine.
lf you're going to hit the spirits,
you're going to have to choose a cheaper brand.
Shit.
- You OK down there? - Yeah, l'm fine. Just ignore me.
- You lost something? - No. l'm hiding from somebody.
Just get on with what you were doing.
Well, you can't sit here, l'm afraid.
- Why? - Health and safety.
lt's a floor. What do you think's going to happen?
Something might fall on you.
- We're in the cereal aisle. - l'll have to ask you to move.
- Do you get laid much? - Sorry?
Do you get laid much? l'm guessing not.
Not with the acne and the stupid haircut.
Do you know what? When you do, all this tension will just disappear.
l'm calling the supervisor. Brendan!
There's a man sat there who's refusing to move.
You little tw...
Tom?
- Mickey. - Oh, my God.
- Tom Ronstadt, as l live and breathe. - Mickey Eldridge. Look at you.
- Look at you. - Look at you. Mental Mickey.
lt's just Mike these days.
Give us a man hug.
Oh!
- What are you doing back here? - You know, just visiting family.
- You know, taking a break from London. - Ransom Magazine.
Associate editor, no less.
Googled you a few times, kept track of your career.
l looked for you on Facebook. You not on that?
- No. - You should.
lt's a laugh. l'm on Twitter and everything, me, you know.
Just for fun. l'm not a geek. Well, maybe... maybe l am a bit.
- So, how's things? - Great, great.
Bit soft around the middle, too many nice dinners,
but other than that it's good. You've kept yourself trim.
lt's all that running away from people.
Married?
Me? No, no. God, no. Does it look like l'm married?
No. You?
Guilty. Couple of kiddies.
Oh, wow. Congratulations. Great. Who's the lucky lady?
Mandy Craven.
- Well, Eldridge now, of course. - Oh, yeah. Oh, well done.
Do you remember her?
Yeah, l had her sister.
- Lucky bastard. - Yeah!
She's in Hartlepool now, you know.
- Really? - Well, someone has to.
- Yeah. - We should have a drink.
- Definitely. - No, not like that, Tom.
Not someday, maybe, never. We should have a drink.
We should have a proper catch-up. What you doing tonight?
Assistant to the leader of the council. His deputy in all but title.
Rose up from planning. Confides in me, asks my opinion.
Last year he took me on an all-expenses-paid trip to Barcelona.
Five-star hotel, first-class travel, the works.
- You've done well for yourself. - l can't complain.
Same again?
- What is that, a white wine spritzer? - l'm on the Slim-Fast.
lf l drink beer, l'll be starving.
Right.
- Enjoying that? - lt's just on, innit?
Pint of lager and a white wine spritzer for the lady.
Look, he works away.
l don't need justification.
You wanted it and you got it.
Think he doesn't do stuff on his trips abroad?
Hey, l am not your marriage counsellor.
- You're not gonna tell him, are you? - Do l look insane?
Things are crap between us. Married too young.
Together for the kids. Cliché, cliché.
l just wanted to be someone else for the night.
£5.80.
Thanks.
Keep your eyes on the telly, you.
- Cheers. - Cheers.
Well, l'd say we were equals at school,
intelligence wise, grades and all that, wouldn't you?
Ln your dreams.
Yet you became the high-flyer.
Off to London, making a fortune.
Women, cash, odd line of snort, l wouldn't be surprised.
And what did l do?
Stayed here, settled down in this place.
You've got a wife and kids, steady job.
- l took the sensible path. - Don't knock it, mate.
The high life is not all it's cracked up to be, believe me.
Can l tell you something?
Yeah, as long as it doesn't involve cross-dressing.
l was jealous of you.
And every time l saw your name on a by-line, l'd think,
''That could have been me. l could have been doing that.''
l hated you for it. Because life's not about talent, is it?
lt's about chutzpah, it's about being the one to get off his fat arse
and go and make something of himself, and you did, and l stayed here.
Yeah, well, now l'm back, tail between my legs, nowhere else to go.
So who's the bigger screw-up?
l'm sorry about your dad.
Yeah, well, life sucks, doesn't it?
lt's a terrible disease.
He was a great bloke. Campaigner, writer, journalist.
Lt must be hard for you to see him like that, mate.
Can l tell you something?
As long as it doesn't involve bestiality.
The only reason l left is because he beat me half to death.
Your dad?
The great bloke.
He used to beat you?
No, it was just this one time.
- But it was pretty savage. - Well, why?
That's the question l've been asking for the last 1 8 years.
He was always very possessive of his study,
said there was loads of sensitive journo stuff in there.
So one night,
after a few too many drinks,
l just thought, ''Stuff it!''
Went in, started nosing around.
There was one file, I'd seen it before.
It was
enticing.
Inside there was just reams of paper,
printouts, research, loads of other guff,
too much to get through.
And so l started skim-reading it.
And as l was doing that, these negatives fell out.
So l bent down to pick 'em up.
And the whole file goes over.
So there I am clearing it up, when suddenly,
l hear this noise behind me.
l turn round... and there he is.
l'll remember it for the rest of my life.
He came tearing towards me, his fists already clenched,
and he yells, ''What the fuck do you think you're doing?''
And I had no answer, not even a feeble lie.
And that's when he lost it.
Something must have just snapped.
What was in there? What didn't he want you to see?
Never ask him?
No. l just got out of there.
Walked away, never came back.
And being at home, it's brought it all back again.
When l look at him, suddenly l'm there again, in that study, cowering.
And l want to ask him, ''Why? What was it?''
The guy can't even put his shoes on the right feet.
And you didn't ever look at the negatives?
The only thing l remember is a name scrawled across the top corner.
Metzler.
Metzler? That's what was written on the negatives?
Just that.
And the only person it links to is Donald Metzler, local entrepreneur.
He was a big hitter round here in the '80s.
But you don't know what the connection is to your dad?
No idea.
Only he's still around, Metzler. Pretty big fish.
You know him?
He's the leader of the council.
He's my boss.
Nancy.
How do we know this money's still in here? These only go up to 2002.
Because it's never been touched. There's no final withdrawal.
But he's told me countless times
where to find the money and which accounts to use.
- Who? The guy with Alzheimer's? - Not recently. Before he degenerated.
Why wouldn't he mention this? There's thousands.
Paid in regular instalments to a PO box for over ten years.
- Who's J. Cleaver? - l've no idea.
The bastard's let me struggle and all the time, this has been sitting there.
We have to release it.
- How do you do that? - We'll need power of attorney.
At a stroke, this clears everything.
Who for, Tom? Or do you see this as some kind of inheritance?
You need money, l need money. He doesn't even know he's got it.
- Or he's conveniently forgotten. - What's that supposed to mean?
Someone's been paying him money, may be still paying him,
and not once has he dipped in, in all those years.
Does that not set a few alarm bells ringing, Nancy?
Jesus!
He's sleepwalking. Come on, you can help me get him back upstairs.
Doctor's letter confirms his condition and the report from the respite unit
outlines the care they've been providing.
Yes, l can read.
My problem, and it's a very real problem in legal terms,
is your father sits before me, appearing, to all intents and purposes,
like a man very much in charge of his faculties.
Well, he has good days and bad days.
Don't we all?
- We're not after his cash. - You wouldn't be the first.
Dad didn't even know that account existed,
we're in debt up to our ears and we need to access this money
without having to rely on his say-so.
ls this something you endorse, Mr Ronstadt?
No.
The man has got Alzheimer's.
No, Dad. Dad, no.
No, leave it.
- Where are you going? - To get that smug prick.
Leave them. Yeah, well done.
Do you remember the planes crashing into the Twin Towers?
9/11 , 2001 .
Do you remember Margaret Thatcher?
Bitch.
l'll take that as a yes.
What about... Liverpool winning the Champions League?
What?
Dementia's not all bad, then.
Do you remember Mum?
Do you remember Edith before she died?
Edith's dead?
Well, yeah. She died years ago, Dad.
Edith's dead?
She was really ill, Dad, and you looked after her, remember?
- Edith's dead? - lt's alright, Dad. lt's OK.
Edith's dead?
- lt's alright, Dad. - Edith's dead!
- Oh, Dad, it's alright. - Edith's dead!
- lt's alright. - Edith's dead!
Dad.
- Don't tell him bad news. - Like his wife's death.
His mind jumps about. Past and present get confused.
- How do you cope with it? - With great difficulty.
Are you wearing that?
No, trying it on for a future occasion. What's wrong with it?
lt's a bit... And don't take this the wrong way.
- lt's a bit tarty. - Don't take this the wrong way.
You're a dickhead.
When was the last time you went out on a date, the late '80s?
lt's not a date.
A guy is taking you out and you've spent an hour getting ready.
- What would you call it? - He's my dentist.
Well, he wants to get inside a different hole tonight.
And that is telling him that he can.
Fine, fashion guru. You choose.
Ooh. When did you get so into beige?
So you're saying that if l want to talk to him about the past,
there's no chance l'll get a proper answer.
He doesn't know what he's forgotten,
so it's difficult to talk to him about it.
Prompts help. Smells, music.
And talk to him in the present, even if you want to ask about the past.
- What kind of music? - Anything, really.
Stuff that was about at the time you want to talk about.
Didn't you date a dentist once before?
Couple of years ago. David.
No, no, way back.
- Oh, yeah. Martin. - This is your third dentist.
- So? - What's all that about?
l don't get out much.
- Here you are. - Are you for real?
Trust me. Lt says available, not desperate.
Have we still got all my old compilation tapes?
Try the cellar. Anything that wasn't burned went down there.
Sarah.
What happened?
''Totally fab tunes.''
So not totally fab, but it'll do.
I blame you for the moonlit sky
And the dream that died
With the eagle's flight
I blame you for the moonlit nights
How's work?
ls the editor still getting on your nerves?
The guy's an idiot.
Calls himself Oxford educated.
He couldn't write ''fuck'' on a dusty blind.
Do you ever fancy being editor or do you prefer it at the coalface?
Hacks write, that's what we do, put the truth on the page.
Editors go to lunch and talk figures with accountants.
But do you never get tired of all that digging?
Lt must get hard.
Lt must be stressful, all that pressure.
Do you not feel it building up, that anger?
Never.
I'm not saying you did.
This isn't an accusation, it's a question.
Then phrase it like a question. It sounds like a serious accusation.
l didn't want it! l told him!
- Why did she let him in the house? - Dad, stop it.
Dad, what didn't you want? Who did you tell?
- Who came here? Who did you let in? - Get off! Go to hell!
Sam, you should know what agreement means.
I know what agreement means.
Exposing me means exposing yourself.
- I can live with that. - Such an honourable man.
Honour's got nothing to do with it.
- You're forgetting...
Shit, shit.
You screwed her in my house! Ln my bed!
l didn't know, mate, l swear.
You useless, washed-up little prick!
Mike, Mike, l'm sorry.
Stay out of my life!
Why did you beat me?
Look at me. That night, why did you react that way?
Dad.
Look at me.
Look at me!
Who were you protecting?
Because to do what you did, it must have been something so big,...
..something that utterly terrified you.
And l know it's still in there.
And believe me, l'm gonna get it out.
- Tom. - Wendy.
I've been digging around, asking questions.
It's something to do with a mental hospital.
- Metzler used to be a doctor there. - Screwing my wife is one thing.
But try screwing my boss, l'm gonna screw you right back.
- You remember Donald Metzler. - We knew each other many moons ago.
Why is this happening to me?
Let's go out. When was the last time we did that?
l don't know, but l had a bubble perm.
Everybody has their price, that was his motto.
- Metzler? - Couldn't buy me and he knew it.