(SEAGULLS CAWING)
(HEAVY RAIN PATTERING ON ROOF)
Were you medallion or goulash?
Uh, medallion.
-Oh! I thought you were goulash. -(CHUCKLING)
I expect it was my fault.
I dare say.
You were goulash, weren't you, Miss Meacham?
What? Oh, yes, Doreen, thank you.
And what to follow? Mousse Angelic or the turnover?
Which do you think?
-Hmm. Turnover? -Turnover, then.
That was jolly nice, Doreen. Veal Cordon Bleu.
You what?
Oh. Think you found a winner for tomorrow, Miss Meacham?
What? Oh, Marsden Lad is worth a bob or two each way.
Oh, well, I'll bear that in mind, then.
It's hardly the weather for a stroll, Miss R-B.
No, I'm afraid not.
Uh, game of cards, perhaps, hmm?
Oh, yes. That'd be nice.
Spot on.
They say it'll clear up tomorrow.
-Clear up? -The weather.
Oh, well, let's hope so, yes. Fingers crossed.
(CHUCKLING)
-Oh! -I do beg your pardon. Mea culpa.
Sorry, Mr Fowler, the goulash is off.
What about the cold pie?
I shouldn't have that. I saw what went into it.
If I were you, I'd have this tongue.
All right, whatever you say.
Ta.
-She won't last. -I'm afraid not.
It's disgraceful that the goulash is off and two people not even in yet.
I know. It's...
Of course, Mr Malcolm's never on time and really deserves it.
Anyway, after those long sessions at The Feathers,
I often wonder if he ever knows what he's eating.
But the new lady. I mean, my dear, what will she think?
-I saw her arrive. -Did you?
Yes. Did you?
I was in the lounge but I didn't, excuse me,
think it quite the thing to peer out of the window at her.
I happened to be in the hall.
I met her on the stairs.
Really, dear?
She's called Mrs Shankland. She comes from London.
She arrived by train. She has four suitcases and a hat box
and she's staying two weeks.
-Four suitcases? -And a hat box.
She was awfully smartly dressed.
Nothing flashy, very good taste
but you know what I mean. Smart.
-Is everything all right, Mrs Shankland? -Yes, thank you.
I hope you find your room quite comfortable.
I'm sure I shall.
If you want anything, please don't hesitate to ask.
-No, I won't. -Oh, excuse me.
-Doreen. -Yes, miss?
Go upstairs to Mr Malcolm's room, tell him...
-I've been. He's not there. -(PHONE RINGING)
Oh.
You're the new one, aren't you?
-Yes. -You're there.
Oh, thank you.
Brown Windsor? Or the Petite Marmite?
I don't think I'll have any soup, thank you. I'll, um...
-I'll try the goulash. -Uh...
Yes, that's right. We've got a portion left.
Cook! One goulash.
Well, really.
Oh, Cook said she heard the baby crying.
-Oh, blast! -No, no, I'll go.
No, I'll go.
-Trousers at dinner. -I know. (LAUGHING)
And he never changes, either.
I wonder Miss Cooper doesn't say something.
You'd think they'd teach them better manners at Oxford.
You would, wouldn't you? My husband was at Oxford.
Yes, I know, dear. You've told me so before.
Mine only went to Birmingham
because of the wonderful engineering course they have there.
He hated it, of course.
-Good evening, Mrs Railton-Bell. -Good evening.
-Good evening, Lady Matheson. -Miss Cooper?
Did I hear the telephone?
Oh, it wasn't your guest, I'm afraid, Mr Fowler.
Oh, dear. I can't understand Phillip not ringing up.
I mean, how can he expect to be met at the station
-when we don't know what train... -It's a little late, Mr Fowler.
There's only one train left from London.
Well, please don't worry about the room.
If anything's gone wrong, which I don't believe, mind you,
I'll pay for it, I promise you.
It's too bad, Miss Cooper.
This is the third time, isn't it?
Oh, I expect he'll turn up. Just forgotten to phone, that's all.
You know what these Bohemian young people are like.
I'm beginning to doubt the very existence
of Mr Fowler's famous young painter friend.
Oh, I know he exists.
Mr Fowler showed me an article about him in Picture Post.
He was Head Boy in Mr Fowler's house at Tunbridge, I gather.
Oh, he's so proud of him, Mr Fowler.
It's quite touching to hear him go on.
Well, I think that it's a disgrace that he keeps on letting him down like this.
-Nonsense! -What, dear?
It's not a disgrace at all.
Why should we expect the young to show us any consideration?
Seeing us can only remind them of death and old people's diseases.
I'm not surprised they stay away.
I'm getting a little worried about Miss Meacham.
She certainly is getting more unusual every day.
Heaven knows where it will end.
-Come along, Sibyl. -Yes, Mummy.
-Do you intend viewing tonight? -Oh, yes!
-It's dear Gilbert... -A tout alors.
I brought you the turnover. It's better than the other.
Oh. Thank you so much.
Oh, you're in at last.
Thank heavens, I thought we were never going to get off.
-Where've you been? The Feathers? -Yes.
Thought so.
Goulash is off. You'll have to have medallion.
-That's all right. -Brown Windsor like usual?
Yes.
Good evening.
There we are. Tuck into that.
Though I dare say you've had enough liquid tonight already.
-Is this coincidence? -Of course.
What are you doing here?
A rest cure.
-But why this place, of all places? -It was recommended to me.
-Who by? -A man I met at a party somewhere.
-He didn't tell you I was here? -No.
He said something about a journalist called John Malcolm.
-Is that you? -Yes.
Oh, yes, of course, I see. Your Christian names.
Why, for the love of God, didn't you go to one of the grand hotels?
Oh, what are you having after? 'Cause Cook's got to leave it out.
-Turnover's best. -That's all right.
Finished your soup?
Yes.
Oh, you haven't touched it.
I couldn't afford a grand hotel.
He pays you alimony, doesn't he?
Seven-fifty a year. But I don't find it very easy.
I'm not getting much work these days.
-I thought he was a rich man. -Michael? Oh, no.
His antique shop lost a lot of money.
He gets his name in the papers a lot.
Oh, yes. He's quite a social figure, first nights and all that.
How long exactly were you married to him?
Three years and six months.
Beating me by three months.
Oh, I saw the headlines of the case. They were quite juicy.
Not as juicy as ours, though. Cruelty again, wasn't it?
Yes.
Did he try to kill you, too?
No.
There we are. Usual veg.
You look a bit down in the dumps tonight. Is anything the matter?
-No. -That's good.
Don't take too long, will you? My friend's waiting.
How did he show his cruelty?
In lots of ways. Small ways. He...
He doesn't really like women.
Why did he marry you?
He wanted a wife.
And you wanted a husband?
As wide a contrast as possible from your first, I suppose?
Still, couldn't you have done a bit better for yourself?
I suppose so.
But he was gentle and kind and made me laugh.
And I was fond of him. I thought I could make it work.
I was wrong.
(JOHN LAUGHING)
What's the joke?
Oh, it's a nice poser for a woman's magazine.
"Girls, which husband would you choose?
"One who loves you too little or one who loves you too much?"
Third time lucky, perhaps?
Perhaps.
How long are you staying here?
I booked for two weeks.
-Right, I'll go to London. -No.
If you feel like that, then I'll go to another hotel.
Might be easier.
John?
I don't see why we can't stay in the...
Look. You think these old women don't notice anything?
They spend their whole days gossiping.
They already know that I write
for the New Outlook under the name of Kato.
Though how they found that out, I'll never know.
Because none of them would sully their dainty fingers
by touching a bolshy rag like that.
I read it every week.
Turning left wing in your old age?
My old age?
How old are you now?
Eight years older than when I last saw you.
Yeah. You don't look it.
I feel it.
Why didn't you come and see me in prison yourself?
I wanted to. I was stopped.
-Who by? -My mother and father.
I suppose they told you I might try and strangle you in front of the warder.
Well, I very nearly did strangle your solicitor.
They thought it would be easier for you if I kept away.
A nice, well-bred Christian thought.
My dear ex in-laws. How are they?
My father's dead.
My mother lives in a place rather like this in Kensington.
-So you'll go tomorrow? -Yes.
Thank you. I'm sorry that I have to put you to this inconvenience.
That's all right.
John?
What do we do now? Shake hands?
I'm very glad to see you, John.
It may seem boorish of me not to be able to say the same, Anne.
But then, I am a boor, as you know.
In fact, you should have a scar on the side of your head to prove it.
It's gone now.
Gone?
After five stitches and a week in hospital?
Eight years will cure most scars.
Yes, I suppose so.
Good night.
-Good evening, Mr Malcolm. -Good evening.
Did you want something? Is there anything I can do for you?
It's all right, I've finished. I'm going out.
It's a horrible night, you know. It's starting to pour.
It doesn't matter.
Oh! Oh.
(CHUCKLING) Oh, you are lucky in cards.
(SOFTLY) Yes.
-That was nice, wasn't it? -Very entertaining.
And those earrings that Barbara wears, so pretty.
TV ANNOUNCER: Speaking Personally.
Tonight's guest in this series is Sir Roger Williamson and...
I want to talk to you tonight as a Tory.
An unashamed Tory.
Because we Tories believe
that this country is being led along the wrong path.
-A path of levelling down... -Mr Malcolm!
-I do beg your pardon. -Please close that at once.
There's a most terrible draught.
Yeah.
You see, the Socialists are only worried about
cutting the national cake into exactly equal sized slices.
What we're trying to do is increase the size of the cake.
-Silly old walrus. -Shh!
The Socialists don't seem to realise that every wage increase
means a smaller cake for cutting...
Oh, God! Spare us! That's enough pap for one evening.
I gather you don't agree with what Sir Roger was saying, Mr Malcolm?
You know very well I don't agree. That's not the point.
Why they put a worn-out old lecher like that on television...
It's not as if he needed the dough. Poor old Roger.
Do I understand that you are personally acquainted with Sir Roger, Mr Malcolm?
-No, I've never met him. -Then may I ask by what right...
No right. I just hear things, that's all.
Some very libellous things, if I may say so.
Yes, the greater the truth, the greater the libel.
That's the phrase, isn't it?
Well, what did Sir Roger say? Did he mention the go-slow in the docks?
Yes, as a matter of fact he did.
He said that the dock workers seem to have
no sense of national responsibility.
He knows nothing about it.
And you do, I suppose?
I ought to, I was a docker meself once.
I am not, if I may say so, at all surprised to hear it.
And I am not surprised that you are not surprised, Mrs Railton-Bell.
(BURPING) Oh, I beg your pardon.
That's too much whisky. Keeps the rain out, you know.
I think we should go and leave Mr Malcolm to sleep it off,
if that's the right phrase.
Please, ladies. Don't let me drive you away.
Come along, Gladys.
Oh, I've left my glasses somewhere.
Here we are, Mrs Railton-Bell. I'm not too late, am I?
Thank you, Miss Cooper, but I'm not having my coffee tonight.
Can't you find them, dear?
No, I'll have one more look in the chair.
Mr Malcolm, did you come in through the sun lounge?
Yes, I did.
You know there's a hotel rule against that.
Oh, I'd forgotten. I'm sorry.
There's mud all over the floor. Oh, really!
Go and take your mackintosh off and hang it up in the proper place,
-please. -Mmm.
And wipe your feet!
Yes. I'm sorry.
Has there been a little bother?
"A little bother" is a distinct understatement.
Oh, for heaven's sake, hurry up, Gladys.
That dreadful man may be back at any moment.
I found them. They were underneath the chair.
Well, I can't think why you didn't look there in the first place.
Why they allow people like that
to stay in a respectable hotel like this I don't know. Every day it's the same.
JOHN: Mmm.
Are you very drunk?
No.
-How many? -As many as I could afford.
Wasn't a lot.
Something's the matter, isn't it?
Nothing much.
You want to tell me?
-I can't. -All right.
(JOHN SIGHING)
So, what did you say to the old ladies?
Oh, nothing very much, I suppose.
Just a rather sordid little piece of alcoholic self-assertion, that's all.
I let them know that I used to work in the docks.
(CHUCKLING) Oh, Lord.
And that I knew Roger Williamson.
I think I covered that one up, though. I hope I did.
I hope you did, too. Otherwise, old Railton-Bell
will be onto it like a bloodhound.
-Oh, Pat, I'm so sorry. -That's all right.
I'll cover up for you.
You'd better drink your coffee.
Why do I do these things, Pat? I used to know how to behave.
I'd do them too in your place.
Oh, don't overdramatise me.
The world is full of promising young men
who in middle age haven't fulfilled their promise.
-Well, perhaps things will change. -Mmm-hmm.
Perhaps they'll give you another chance.
Oh, God! What a field day for the Tory press that would be.
"John Malcolm Ramsden has decided to stand as Labour Independent
"for his old constituency.
"It will be remembered that Mr Ramsden,
"who was a junior minister in the 1945 administration,
"went to prison for six months on a charge of being drunk and disorderly
"and of causing grievous bodily harm to his wife."
The headline? "Jailbird stands again."
(SCOFFS) No, thanks.
No, I'll stay John Malcolm,
journalist, middle-aged soak and has-been
and terror of the older lady residents of the Hotel Beauregard, Bournemouth.
Ah.
John, dear. I don't want to know what it is.
But let me help you if I can.
You know, Pat, that I love you very sincerely.
Sincerely? That sounds like something a brother might say to a sister.
You have reason enough to know that my feelings for you
are more than fraternal.
Maybe.
Oh! Mrs Shankland.
They told me you'd gone up some time ago.
I had, but not to bed. I was reading.
Did you want something?
No, I just wanted a word with Mr Malcolm.
-Oh. You two have met before, have you? -Yes.
A long time ago.
Well, I'll leave you alone, then.
If you do want anything, I shall be up for quite some time yet.
I didn't want to go away
without our saying something to each other, John.
-I hope you don't mind. -Why should I mind?
Your rushing out of dinner like a whirlwind
made it look as if you hated the very sight of me.
The very sight of you, Anne,
is perhaps the one thing in this world that I don't hate.
(CHUCKLING) Oh, dear. That's not very nice to hear.
Look, go to bed, Anne and disappear quietly tomorrow, please.
Oh, let me stay just a little longer.
May I sit down?
Is that a way of reminding me of my bad manners?
Me sitting while you're standing?
You're so bristly. Even bristlier now than you were before.
Your manners were always very good.
You used to tick me off about them often enough,
-I used to hate that. -Why did you marry me, then?
Because my love for you at that time was so desperate,
my craving for you was so violent that I could deny you nothing.
Not even a marriage that every prompting of reason told me would be disastrous.
Why did it so necessarily have to be disastrous?
-Oh, because of class, mainly. -Class? Oh, that's nonsense, John.
-It's just inverted snobbery. -I don't think so.
The gulf between Kensington Gore and the whole docks
is still fairly wide.
Being one of a family of eight,
my views on a wife's duties must have been slightly coloured
by watching my mother sacrifice her health,
strength and comfort to looking after us kids...
-And keeping the old man out of trouble. -Look, as to children,
I made it perfectly clear. You know that.
Oh, yes, you made it perfectly clear, Anne.
A famous model mustn't gamble her figure merely for posterity.
Oh, I accepted the bargain and the whole bargain.
-I've no complaint. -You have John, you know you have.
Your real complaint is the same as it always was,
that I didn't love you when we got married.
But what other motive could I have had?
You married me 'cause you were frightened.
You were going to be 30.
You'd suddenly realised that you couldn't spend the rest of your life
gazing joyously into the mirror.
Because the time would come when what you saw in the mirror
would no longer give you joy.
All right, then. So, why not a millionaire's wife?
Or a baroness? Why Mrs Ramsden?
Oh, because they, the others couldn't pay the full price.
-What price? -Enslavement.
(CHUCKLING) Oh, John, really.
If all I'd wanted to do was make my husband a slave,
why should I specially have chosen you and not the others?
Because where would your fun have been in enslaving a man
who was already the slave of his own head gardener?
Who'd be too well-mannered not to take your headaches at bedtime
as just headaches at bedtime?
"Oh, poor dear. Bad show, so sorry.
"Feel better in the morning, I hope. I'm feeling a bit tired myself."
Oh, no, Anne.
Well, there'd be no fun in that.
But to turn your weapons on to a genuine, live, roaring savage,
to goad him into such a frenzy of drink and rage by a locked door
that he'd kick it in and hit you with his fists so hard
that you'd knock yourself unconscious against the wall?
That must really have been fun.
Goodness, John. How you do go on.
Yes, I do. You must forgive me.
It's a foible, perhaps, of disappointed politicians.
Besides, I'm rather drunker than usual tonight.
-Because of seeing me? -Yes.
-I'm sorry. -Oh, no, you're not.
Oh... Same old John.
You've left out the most important fact of all,
that, uh, you're the only person in the world I've ever been really fond of.
You'll notice how tactfully I leave out the word "love".
May I have a cigarette?
Oh! Not still those awful cork-tipped things.
I'll have one of mine. Give me my bag.
Well, do you dispute that?
You might observe that your fondness for me
was sometimes expressed in surprising ways.
Well, I wasn't prepared to be your doormat.
I had to fight back sometimes, didn't I?
Yes, I suppose so.
But your choice of weapons, it wasn't fair.
Isn't it a principle of war that you always play on your opponent's weakness?
A principle of war, not necessarily of marriage.
-Marriage is a kind of war. -Ah, it is for you.
For you, too, John. For both of us.
The weakness you played on was my love for you.
Mmm.
You can put it that way if you like.
Besides, you and I never could have agreed on that aspect of married life.
No, we could not.
Why are you staring at me?
You know very well why.
Well, don't, it makes me embarrassed.
You really think I haven't changed much?
-To look at, I mean? -Not a bit.
-Just the clever make-up, I expect. -I don't think so.
John, if all you'd wanted was an obedient little hausfrau for a wife,
why on earth didn't you marry one,
like that manageress I caught you canoodling with a moment ago?
That was a canoodle, wasn't it?
Yes, a canoodle is what you would call it.
Why haven't you married her?
Because I'm not in love with her.
Couldn't you, as they say, learn to love her?
After all, she's your type.
I still have only one type in this whole world, Anne.
The prototype.
I'm glad.
(LAUGHS) I've no doubt you are.
Tell me, does a compliment still give you that little
jab in the solar plexus you used to describe to me?
Yes, it does. More so than ever now that I'm 40.
There. I've admitted it.
Mmm-hmm. I'd worked it out anyway.
(BOTH CHUCKLING)
Oh, that's nice. That from your second?
-Yes. -Mmm, he had good taste.
In jewels.
You should have made a go of it with that man.
He sounds much more your form.
What was wrong? Not enough compliments?
Too many and none of them meant.
-What, no solar plexus? -No.
(JOHN CHUCKLES)
John...
I'm in, um, a bad way, you know.
I'm sorry?
Some of the things you used to tell me might happen to me are happening.
Such as?
Loneliness, for one.
-No friends? -Not many. I haven't the gift.
There is no gift.
To make people love you is a gift.
And you have it.
Had it.
Have it.
I hate being alone.
-This place gives me the creeps. -Why'd you come here, then?
I, um... I suppose I didn't realise what it would be like.
God, what a life.
I can just see myself in a few years' time
at one of those separate tables.
Is there nobody on the horizon?
No one I'd want and time is slipping. It goes fast.
I haven't found it so these past eight years.
Poor John. I'm so sorry.
(CHUCKLES) But it's such a wonderful fluke,
our meeting again like this, that we really shouldn't waste it.
We must see some more of each other.
I mean, when fate plays a trick like this,
it must mean something, mustn't it?
Don't send me away tomorrow.
Let me stay a little while.
(JOHN SIGHING)
I won't be a nuisance, John.
I won't. Really, I won't.
You won't be a nuisance?
-John... -Don't say anything.
Not a word. Not now.
I was only going to say
that Miss Scrupulous has been good enough to give me
what appears to be a very isolated room.
Number 19.
Give me one of those horrid cork-tipped things,
I've run right out of mine.
Ooh. What a shaky hand.
(PHONE RINGING)
How do I look?
-All right? -All right.
-Darling John. -Darling Anne.
Half an hour?
PAT: Mrs Shankland?
I'll be waiting.
Mrs Shankland, you're wanted on the telephone.
-A London call. -Oh, where is the telephone?
Well, you can take it on the telephone on the desk.
-That's her, isn't it? -What?
Mrs Shankland. That's the one, isn't it?
Yes.
She looks exactly as you described her.
"Carved in ice" you said once, I remember.
Did I?
What's going to happen now, John?
I see.
Well, I always knew you were still in love with her
and always would be. You've never made any bones about that.
-Pat, dearest... -No, you don't have to say anything.
I understand.
You'll be going away, will you?
-I don't know. -Oh, I expect you will.
She looks as though she's got some willpower, that girl.
If she's taken that much trouble to run you to earth down here,
she won't let you go so easily.
She hasn't run me to earth.
Her coming here was coincidence.
Coincidence?
-I see. -See what, damn you?
John, don't knock me about. I'm not her, you know.
All right, I'll say it.
If it was a coincidence, why is she talking to your editor on the telephone?
-What? -His name is Wilder, isn't it?
-Yes. -And he knows who you really are,
-doesn't he, and where you live? -Yes.
And I expect he gets around the West End quite a bit.
Cocktail parties and things.
Mind you, it could be a different Mr Wilder.
There's one coincidence, why not another?
Thank you so much, Miss Cooper. I'm going to bed now.
I've put down a call for 8:30 with hot water and lemon.
-I hope that's all right. -Quite all right, Mrs Shankland.
-Goodnight, then. -Goodnight, Mr Malcolm.
Stay here, Anne. Out you go.
-Oh, not now, John, wait till morning. -It's got to be now.
Leave us alone, please, Pat.
When fate plays a trick like this, it must mean something, mustn't it?
Yes. That's what I said.
What did you tell Wilder on the telephone?
No, don't bother to lie. I'll quote you, shall I?
"Well, thank you so much, my dear.
"Our little plot's gone off wonderfully well.
"It was so funny, after one kiss, his hand was shaking so much
"he could hardly light my cigarette. You'd have died laughing."
Oh, don't be angry, John, please.
It's not as if I've done anything so terrible.
I was desperate to see you again
and this was the only way I could think of.
Aye, the only way you could think of.
You couldn't think of ringing me up or writing me a letter
or telling me the truth in there. No, you had to have your conquest.
You had to have your unconditional surrender.
And if you could do it by lying and cheating, so much the better...
That's not true, John.
I know I should have told you,
but even now I still have a little pride left.
So have I, Anne. Thank God. So have I.
Yes, I can see the make-up now.
I can see the little lines there that weren't there before.
And very soon, there'll be nothing.
Nothing!
(WHIMPERS)
Why don't you?
(RAIN POURING)
(IN SINGSONG) Tum along, then. Tum along.
Shall we go ickle walkies?
"Oh, yes, Mummy," he says, "I love ickle walkies."
He doesn't say anything of the sort.
All he ever appears to say is, "Goo."
-I'm getting a bit worried. -Don't be silly, darling.
What can you expect at five months?
What's all this "tum along" nonsense?
It can lead to arrested development later on.
Oh, what rubbish!
Your dada's just a silly billy. That's what he is.
A silly billy.
Mmm. Oh, give me a proper kiss.
A kiss but not a "tiss".
Hello, Miss Meacham.
-Oh, God. It's the Major. -Got one for me?
Hurry up, darling. If he sees the baby, we're lost.
He'll talk about infant welfare in Polynesia or something.
All right, tum along, Michael Vincent Charles.
We'll leave dada to his funny old book.
If dada doesn't finish his funny old book,
he'll never become a dockie-wockie.
Hello, Stratton.
Hey, it's going to be a scorcher, by the look of it.
Good.
Yes, a real scorcher.
-Interesting book? -I find it interesting.
Mmm.
Yes, I was a great one for books in my youth, you know.
Always reading. Yes, when I was at Sandhurst...
-I'm not disturbing you, am I? -No, Major.
When you were at Sandhurst?
Well, I was going to say that I was a lot like you.
Oh, off duty when all the other young fellows
were gallivanting around in the town,
I was in my room there or up in the library cramming away like mad.
Military history, great battles of the world...
Yes, I did pretty well at Sandhurst.
-Did you get the sword of honour? -What?
No, no, no, no. Came quite close to it, though.
Yes, passed out pretty high. Pretty high.
Not that it did me much good later on,
except that they made me battalion adjutant
'cause I was good at paperwork.
Could have been Brigade Major, as it happens.
Oh, well, you know, promotion was always a bit tight in the Black Watch.
Well, should have chosen another regiment, I suppose, yes?
-Yes. -Yes, well...
Go on, my boy, go on. So sorry, I talk too much.
It's usually the trouble with old retired majors. (CHUCKLES)
Not at all, sir. But I will go on, if you don't mind.
Few enough opportunities with a baby around.
Well, yes, yes, of course. Carry on.
-Oh, hello, Major. -Ah.
-I've just had the most charming letter. -Who from?
-An old flame? -Old flame.
I haven't got any old flames.
I leave that to you galloping majors.
Oh, I did all right once, I must say.
You know, in the regiment they used to call me Bucko Pollock.
-Hmm? -(LAUGHING)
-Regency buck, you see. -Oh.
Oh. Well, those days are past and gone now.
(MISPRONOUNCING LATIN SLOGAN)
(PRONOUNCING CORRECTLY)
Didn't they teach you the new pronunciation at Wellington?
-No, no. The old. -When were you there?
Oh, let me see now. It was 1918 I went up.
Ah. But our head classics master was an old Wellingtonian.
And I remember distinctly...
Well, maybe they taught me the new one and I've forgotten it, huh?
Ah, Major.
We managed to get your copy of the West Hampshire Weekly News.
Joe had to go to three places before he could find one.
-Thank you so much. -Why all the urgency?
Oh, well, I just wanted to have a look at it.
I've never read it, you know. I've been here, what, for four years?
Well, I'm not surprised.
There's never anything in it except parking offences and cattle shares.
No, but thanks all the same.
Oh, Miss Cooper, I've just heard from a former pupil,
someone I haven't seen in over 10 years.
I'm going to write and ask
if he'd care to come down for a day or two.
Oh, how nice. I'm so glad for you.
Of course, I don't suppose he will come,
but I hope there'll be a room vacant if he does.
Oh, I'm sure we'll find somewhere.
Thank you, Miss Cooper. Thank you.
-Pat. -Whoa! God, you made me jump.
-Pat, I must speak to you. -Are you all right?
-Yes, I'm all right. -Where have you been?
-Oh, I don't know. I walked a long way. -You've been out all night.
I spent some time in a shelter. Look, I've got to have some money.
I'm broke to the wire
and I spent my last week's cheque in The Feathers last night.
How much do you want?
Oh, I don't know. Enough to get me on a train and keep me for a day or two.
Three or four pounds will do.
You'd better come in here.
Well, can you let me have it, Pat?
You won't need it, John. She's going.
-Are you sure? -Yes.
-Where is she now? -Upstairs, resting.
It's all right. Did you get very wet?
Oh, yes, I suppose so. It's dried off now.
Well, now, sit down. Have some breakfast.
Your hands are like ice.
I'll just have some... Don't want anything to eat.
-Just some tea. -Yes, all right. Sit down, now.
Straighten your tie a bit. Turn your collar down.
That's better.
Now you look quite respectable.
Oh. Do you want me to clear now?
No. No, you'd better get Mr Malcolm some tea.
Okey-doke.
Well, that was a fine way to behave.
Dashing out and scaring us half to death.
-Us? -Oh, yes, she was scared, too.
-I had to stop her ringing the police. -You talked to her, then?
Most of the night.
She was a bit hysterical and needed quieting.
I didn't want to call a doctor.
Pat, did I hurt her?
No. She's as right as rain.
Thank God for that.
I've brought you some digestive biscuits.
I know you like them.
Thank you, Doreen. Thank you very much.
How is she?
A bit shaky. Quieter, though.
Did you know she took sedatives?
She never used to.
Well, she takes three times the proper dose.
And takes them during the day.
-How long has this been going on? -About a year, I gather.
Damned fool! Why does she do it?
Why do you go to The Feathers?
There's not all that much to choose between you, I'd say.
All told, it's quite a problem.
Why didn't she tell me this last night?
Because she's what she is. That's why.
She'd have had to show you how much she needed you.
And that she'd never do. Not her. Not in a million years.
And that's why she lied about coming down here.
I've got rather a conscience about that, you know.
I should never have told you.
Just a flash in jealousy, I suppose, I'm sorry.
What time is she going?
Well, she's only waiting now to get some news of you.
I was just going to start ringing up the hospitals.
-She asked me to do that. -I see.
Well, we can...
I'll just drink this and then I'll go off somewhere.
You can give me a ring when she's gone. You can tell her I'm quite all right.
You don't think you might tell her that yourself?
Look, Pat, please don't... don't interfere.
Let her go back to London and leave me to live out my life in peace.
In peace?
What kind of peace are you living in down here?
-A kind of peace, anyway. -Is it? Oh, be honest, John.
Yes, I know there's your work and your pals down at The Feathers.
And, well, me. But is it even living?
It'll do.
Well, thank you for that.
Thank you for being honest.
When you think of it,
it seems really rather a pity that you two ever met, doesn't it?
Yes, a great pity.
If you'd hadn't, she'd have been a millionairess,
you'd have been Prime Minister
and I'd have married Mr Hopkins from the bank.
And we'd all have been happy.
I'm going upstairs now
and I'm going to tell her you're here. If you want to escape, you can.
There's the door, street's outside.
Down the street there's The Feathers.
It's a bit early. But I've no doubt they'll open for you.
Have you finished?
Um, not quite, Doreen.
Oh, well, make up your mind. I've got to clear.
Oh, hello, Mrs Shankland.
You're a bit late for breakfast, I'm afraid.
I expect you didn't know.
Still, there is some tea left.
Or coffee, if you'd rather.
And I could get you some digestive biscuits, is that all right?
Thank you so much. That's very kind. I'll have coffee, please.
Righty-o.
John...
You'd better sit at your own table, she'll be back in a moment.
Oh, yes. Yes, I know.
I'm going this morning, you know.
-So I heard. -I won't bother you ever again, I...
I just wanted to say I'm sorry I had to lie to you.
-Thank you, Anne. -I'm an awful liar.
I always have been, ever since school. I don't know why,
but I'd sooner lie than tell the truth about the simplest things.
It was always about my lying that we used to quarrel in the old days.
Do you remember?
Yes, I remember.
John...
I don't know what's going to happen to me.
Thought you might like some more.
I know your appetite.
There you are, Mrs Shankland. Coffee's just coming.
I'm sorry.
Narrow escape.
I'm in a rather weak state this morning.
How much does Shankland pay you, Anne?
I told you, 750.
Fifteen hundred.
You can't live quite happily on that?
I couldn't be more alone in London than in a place like this, John.
Here, at least, you can talk from table to table.
In London, it's the phone and usually no answer.
You must give up these drugs, Anne.
She told you?
-They won't help, you know. -I know they won't.
Well, chuck them all in the dustbin, they're no good.
I won't do that, I can't. I'm not strong enough.
But I'll cut them down, if I can.
Well, try.
I will try. I promise.
Anne,
when you say you need me,
is it me you need or just my love?
Because if it's my love, Anne, you must know by now that you have that,
you have that for life.
It's you, John.
Why?
Supposing I'd learned something in the last eight years?
-I'm not a lesson that can be learned. -I can still try.
So could I, Anne.
So could I.
And we'd both fail.
There are worse risks, aren't there?
I'm an awful coward.
I've never been able to face anything alone.
The blitzes in the war, being ill,
all this...
No, I...
I just can't face getting old.
You realise, don't you, that we haven't got much hope together?
Have we all that much apart?
Well, there's a little pub I know a few miles away on top of the cliffs.
I go there for lunch sometimes.
When I've got the money.
I can lend you a couple of pounds,
if that's enough.
Aye, that'll be fine.
-Pretty dull stuff. -What?
This paper. I don't suppose it's much read, is it?
Oh, only by the locals, I suppose.
Farmers, estate agents, those sort of people.
Never seen anyone in the hotel reading it.
-Have you? -Oh, yes.
Mrs Railton-Bell takes it every week.
Oh, uh...
-That's funny. Whatever for? -I don't know, I'm sure.
There's not much goes on in the world, even West Hampshire,
that she likes to miss.
And she can afford fourpence for the information, I suppose.
(LAUGHS) Yes, I suppose so.
It's funny, I've never seen her reading it.
Oh, she gets lots of things sent into her that she never reads.
Most of the stuff on that table over there is hers.
Yes, yes, I know.
Well, she'd have had hers this morning then, I suppose.
Uh, yes, I suppose so.
Oh, dash it all, here I spent fourpence for nothing.
I could've borrowed hers, couldn't I?
-Oh, Major... -Huh?
I know you don't like venison,
so I've ordered you a chop for lunch tomorrow.
But I must ask you to be discreet about it, if you don't mind?
Oh, of course, of course, Miss Cooper. Thank you so much.
MRS RAILTON-BELL: If that's what you meant,
you should have said so, dear.
I think you should learn to express yourself a little better.
Good morning, Major.
Uh, morning, Mrs Railton-Bell. Morning, Miss R-B.
Major?
Yes, I'm so sorry. I'm just glancing through your West Hampshire Weekly News.
I wonder if you'd mind if I borrowed it for a few moments, eh?
Something in it I want to see.
Very well, Major. Only, please return it.
Oh, of course.
-Major? -Hmm?
Here's another copy.
-Of the West Hampshire Weekly News? -Yes.
(CHUCKLES) Well, dash it all!
It was over here, on the chair.
Oh, well, it must be one of the casuals', hmm.
You'd better take it anyway and leave me mine.
You don't think whoever owns it might...
If it's been left on the chair, Major, it's plainly been read.
I'd like mine back. If you don't mind, please.
Uh, right. Yes.
Uh, I'll just put it back with the others. Hmm?
I'll just go out for a stroll.
Major Pollock, you, erm, don't happen to want company, do you?
Oh...
(STAMMERING) I haven't had my walk yet.
Well, Miss Railton-Bell, it's a very nice gesture and all that,
but matter of fact, you see, I'm going to call on a friend.
Oh, yes, yes, of course. I'm so sorry.
No, no, no, no. I'm the one who's sorry.
-(CHUCKLES) Well, chilly bye. -Yeah.
I wish he wouldn't use that revolting expression, it's so common.
But then he is common.
Oh, no, Mummy, do you think so? He was in a very good regiment.
You can be in the Horse Guards, dear, and still be common.
Sibyl, my dearest, do you mind awfully
if your tactless old mother whispers something in your ear?
No.
I didn't think it was terribly wise of you
to lay yourself open to that snub just now.
It wasn't a snub, Mummy.
I'm sure he really was going to see a friend.
Well, I... I often do go for walks with the Major.
I know you do, dear.
What is more, quite a lot of people have noticed it.
You don't mean...
You can't mean...
Oh, no.
How can people be so awful?
It's not being particularly awful.
When an unattached girl is noticed
constantly seeking the company of an older, attractive man...
They think I chase him, is that it?
They think... Oh, no!
It's awful. It is! It is!
Now, quieten yourself, my dear, don't get into one of your states.
All right, Mummy, I'm not in a state, it's just...
Well, it's just so dreadful that people should believe
-such a thing is even possible. -I know, dear. I know.
We'll have a coffee in a moment, shall we?
A nice cup of coffee.
Hand me that newspaper, would you, dear?
-Which one? -The West Hampshire News.
I want to see what the Major was so interested in.
Oh, dear. Oh, dear.
I've gone and left my glasses and book
in the shelter at the end of Ragusa Road.
I do hope they've not been stolen. I expect they're bound to be.
I'll go and look for them, shall I?
Oh, would you, dear? That really is so kind.
I hate you to fetch and carry for me like this, as you know,
but my old legs are just a wee bit tired.
It was at the far end of the shelter, facing the sea.
Yes, I know.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Hello, dear. Had a nice walk?
-Gladys? -Yes?
-Have you got your glasses? -Yes, I think so. Wait a minute.
-Yes, they're here. -Read this out to me.
-"Lorry driver loses licence..." -No, no, no, no.
-"Ex-officer bound over..." -Oh, yes.
"Ex-officer bound over. Offence in cinema..."
Oh, dear, do we really want to hear this?
Yes, yes, we do. Go on.
"On Thursday last, before the Bournemouth Magistrates,
"David Angus Pollock, 55,
"giving his address as the Beauregard Hotel..."
Major Pollock?
Go on.
"...pleaded guilty to a charge of insulting behaviour
"in a Bournemouth cinema on the complaint
"of a Mrs Osborne, 4 3, of 4 Studland Road."
Oh, he must have been drinking.
He's a teetotaller.
-Perhaps just that one evening. -No.
Read on.
"Mrs Osborne, giving evidence, stated that Pollock, sitting next to her,
"persistently nudged her in the arm
"and later attempted to take other liberties.
"She subsequently vacated her seat and complained to an usherette.
"Inspector Franklin, giving evidence, said that
"in response to a telephone call from the cinema manager,
"Pollock had been kept under observation by police officers
"from 3:53 pm until 7:10 pm,
"by which time he had been observed
"to change his seat no less than five times,
"always choosing a seat next to a female person.
"And there had, he admitted, been no further complaints
"but that was not unusual in cases of this kind.
"On leaving the cinema, Pollock was arrested.
"And after being charged and cautioned, stated,
"'You have made a terrible mistake, you have the wrong man.
"'I was only in the place for half an hour.
"'I'm a colonel in the Scots Guards.'
"Later he made a statement.
"Appearing for the defendant, Mr William Crowe, the solicitor,
"stated that his client had had a momentary aberration.
"He was extremely sorry and ashamed of himself
"and would undertake never to behave
"in so stupid and improper a manner in future.
"He asked that his client's blameless record should be taken into account.
"He had enlisted in the army in 1925, and in 1939
"was granted a commission as Second Lieutenant
"in the Royal Army Service Corps."
In the what?
"The defendant was not called.
"The Chairman of the Bench, giving judgement, said,
"'You have behaved disgustingly
"'but because this appears to be your first offence,
"'we propose to deal leniently with you.'
"The defendant was bound over for 12 months."
(SIGHING) Oh, dear.
Thursday? It must have happened on Wednesday.
Do you remember? He missed dinner that night.
Did he? Oh, oh, yes, he did.
On the Thursday, he was terribly nervous and depressed. I remember now.
And then on the Friday, suddenly as bright as a button.
Of course! He must've read the papers next day
and thought he'd got away with it.
What a stroke of luck I have this weekly one sent to me.
Was it luck, dear?
Of course, it's luck. Otherwise we should never have known.
Wouldn't that have been better?
Gladys, what are you saying?
If there's a liar and a fraudulent crook and a...
I can't bring myself to say it.
...wandering around among us unsuspected,
it could lead to the most terrible repercussions.
Well, dear, he has been wandering around among us for nearly four years
and there have been no repercussions yet.
Perhaps we're too old.
I have a daughter, you know.
Sibyl. Poor Sibyl. She's such a friend of his.
Exactly!
Maud. Maud, I know it's not my business.
I know you have a right as a mother to look after your child. I do see that.
But she's such a strange girl,
so shy and so different and so un-grown-up...
Oh, come to the point, Gladys.
Very well, it's this.
I don't think you ought to tell her.
Not tell her?
Well, not all. Not the details.
Oh, say he's a fraud, if you like. But not...
Oh, please, Maud, not about the cinema.
Oh, dear. I don't know how I shall ever look him in the face again.
You won't have to, dear.
I'm going to see Miss Cooper now
and insist that he leaves this hotel forthwith.
Oh, Maud. Maud, do you think you should?
Miss Cooper is so independent and sometimes quite stubborn.
-She might not agree. -Of course she'll agree!
She has to agree, if we all insist.
But we don't all insist.
I mean, it's only the two of us.
Uh, don't you think we ought to consult the others?
An excellent idea, Gladys.
-You round them up. -I do hate this tale-telling.
The tale is told already, Gladys, to the world.
Strictly speaking, dear, only to West Hampshire.
Now, don't quibble, Gladys.
Miss Meacham's in the garden.
I don't think we need bother about Miss Meacham.
Ah, here comes Sibyl. You round up the others.
Maud, Maud, you will think about what I said?
Yes, yes, yes, of course. Go on.
(DOOR OPENING)
You found them, did you, darling?
Clever girl. Sibyl, dear...
I think you'd better go to your room, if you don't mind.
Why, Mummy?
We're holding a meeting of the regulars down here
to discuss a very urgent matter that has just cropped up.
Oh, but how exciting.
Can't I stay? After all, I'm a regular, too.
Yes, I know you are, dear.
But I don't think the subject of the meeting
would be quite suitable for you.
Why, Mummy? What is it?
Oh, dear, you're so inquisitive.
Very well. I'll tell you this much. But only this much.
We're going to discuss whether or not we think Miss Cooper should be told
to ask Major Pollock to leave this hotel at once
and never come back.
What?
But I don't understand.
Why, Mummy?
-Mummy, tell me why. -I can't tell you, dear.
It might upset you too much.
I must know, Mummy, I must.
What has he done?
You really insist that I should tell you?
-Yes, I do. -Even after my strong warning?
Yes.
Very well, I have no option, I suppose.
Read that.
Middle column, halfway down.
"Ex-officer bound over."
JEAN: Do you know what this is all about, Lady Matheson,
because I was in the middle of bathing the baby, I had to leave him on the bed.
-Ah, good. Would you come down, please? -What is it, Mrs Railton-Bell?
I can only stay a moment. I must get back to the baby.
I won't keep you long, I promise you.
Would you take a seat, please?
Ah, Mr Fowler, good.
Would you take a seat and then we can begin?
What about Mr Malcolm?
I saw him go off with that new lady.
-What's her name... -Mrs Shankland.
Don't let's waste time, Gladys, please.
-Honey, is the baby all right? -Yes, yes, I put him to sleep.
-Are you sure? -Yeah.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid I have some very grave news for you all.
The boiler's gone wrong again.
No, I only wish it was something so trivial.
I don't consider shaving in cold, brown water trivial.
Please, Mr Stratton...
-They're raising the prices again? -No, my news is graver than that, even.
Oh, I don't know what could be graver than that.
Oh, do we have to play 20 questions? Can't you just tell us what it is?
Shh.
My hesitation is only because the matter is so painful
and so embarrassing for me.
I find it difficult to choose my words.
However, if you want it boldly, you shall have it.
Major Pollock, who is not a major at all, but a lieutenant,
promoted from the ranks in the RASC.
No, you don't say!
I always knew that Sandhurst and the Black Watch was a phoney!
-Didn't I say so, Jean? -Yes, you did.
But I said so first.
That night he made the boob about serviettes.
I must admit, I've always slightly suspected the public school education.
-Why, only today, he made... -Please, please, please.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is not the point.
-He was found guilty... -Pleaded guilty.
He was found or pleaded guilty,
I really don't see that it matters which,
to behaving insultingly to no less than six respectable women
in a Bournemouth cinema.
Oh, how awful.
Good God, what a performance.
I must correct that, Maud, I must.
We only know that one of the women was respectable, the one who complained.
And her behaviour was very odd.
Why didn't' she say straight out to the Major,
"I do wish you'd stop doing whatever it is you are doing!"
That's what I would have done.
And as to the other five, we know nothing at all.
We don't even know that he nudged them or anything.
Of course we know he nudged them.
He was in that cinema for an immoral purpose.
He admitted it.
And he was seen to change his seat five times,
always choosing one next to female persons.
That could make 10 nudges, really, couldn't it?
I mean, if you had the chance of using both elbows.
Eleven. Counting the original one, or 12, supposing he...
Uh, really, we seem to be losing the essential point
in a welter of triviality.
The point is, surely, that the Major, the so-called Major,
has pleaded guilty to a criminal offence of a disgusting nature.
And I want to know what action we regular residents propose to take?
What action do you propose, Mrs Railton-Bell?
I propose, on your behalf,
to go to Miss Cooper and demand that he leaves this hotel forthwith.
No.
MRS RAILTON-BELL: You disagree, Mr Stratton?
Yes, I do.
Please don't think I'm making light of this business, Mrs Railton-Bell.
To me, what he's done seems ugly and repulsive.
I'm just saying that my dislike of the Major's offence
is emotional and not logical.
Apart from possibly slightly bruising the arm of a certain lady,
whose motives in complaining, I agree with Lady Matheson,
are extremely questionable,
I really can't see that he's done anything
to justify us chucking him out in the street.
Well, I think people who behave like that are a public menace
and deserve everything they get.
That's a bit strong, Jean.
Supposing next time we had a daughter.
I know, I know, and supposing in 20 or 30 years' time,
she sits next to a Major Pollock in a cinema?
-Exactly, it's not funny, Charles. -(CHUCKLING)
How would you feel?
Very ashamed of her if she didn't use her elbow back
very hard and in the right place.
Charles, why must you always be flippant? Can't you see...
(ARGUING CONTINUES)
MRS RAILTON-BELL: Ladies and gentlemen!
(ARGUING CONTINUES)
-I don't see why... -Honestly...
This is not a private argument between the two of you!
I take it, Mr Stratton,
that you are against any action in this matter?
Of any kind at all?
I might give him a reproving glance at dinner.
You, Mrs Stratton, I gather, agree with me that I should see Miss Cooper.
-Yes. -Book-burner.
-What's book-burning got to do with it? -A lot.
Quiet, please.
Mr Fowler, what do you think?
Well, it's difficult, very difficult, but I can't say I see it like Stratton.
That's the modern viewpoint, I know, nothing is really wrong
that doesn't do actual and accessible harm to another human being.
But tolerance is not necessarily a good, you know.
Tolerance of evil may itself be an evil.
After all, it was Aristotle, wasn't it, who said...
Oh, really! You've all gone on far too long about it.
And when you start quoting Aristotle,
-well, personally, I'm going to my room. -Aristotle...
-You heard, Miss Meacham? -I couldn't help hearing.
I didn't want to. I was doing my system.
And you've got to concentrate like billy-o.
Well, since you know the facts,
I suppose we had better canvas your opinion. What is it?
-I haven't any. -You must have some opinion.
Well, my views on Major Pollock have always been
that he's a crashing old bore and a wicked old fraud.
Now I hear he's a dirty old man, too, I'm not at all surprised.
And between these four walls,
I don't give a damn!
Sad, very sad.
I take it, Mr Fowler, that you are on the side of action?
Well, I...
I once had to recommend a boy for expulsion,
only once in the whole of the 15 years I was a housemaster.
I was deeply unhappy about it, deeply and...
And yet, events proved me right. He was no good.
He became a thief and a blackmailer.
Poor boy. He had a way with him.
Are you in favour of action, Mr Fowler?
Uh, yes, I suppose so. Uh... Yes, I am.
Hmm. And you, Gladys?
Don't make a speech like the others did. Just say yes or no.
Oh, dear...
Oh, for heaven's sake, make up your mind, Gladys.
-I... -Are you on the side of
Mr Stratton and his defence of vice
or are you on the side of Christian virtues,
like Mr Fowler, Mrs Stratton and myself?
I've never in my life heard a question so disgracefully begged.
Senator McCarthy could use your talents, Mrs Railton-Bell.
Will you keep quiet?
Well, Gladys, what is it to be?
Well, of course I am on your side but...
-Hmm. -Oh, dear.
Well, Mr Stratton, apart from Miss Meacham,
who might be said to be neutral,
the count now appears to be five to one against you.
Five to one?
My daughter, of course, agrees with me.
-How do you know? -I know her feelings in this matter.
Maybe hear them from herself?
Miss Railton-Bell?
Miss Railton-Bell, could we have your views?
Mr Stratton is asking you a question, dear.
-Yes, Mummy. -Could we hear your views?
My views?
On Major Pollock. What action should we take?
It's the shock.
You know what you just read in the papers, dear.
What did you think of it?
It made me sick.
MRS RAILTON-BELL: Of course it did. That's how we all feel.
It made me sick.
It made me sick. It made me sick!
It made me sick!
-Yes, yes. It's all right. -I don't want you to speak about it!
-I don't feel very well. -Of course, dear,
now try to forget the whole nasty thing.
(ANNE CONTINUES SOBBING)
She should never have been told like that.
-Such a mistake. -I agree.
If that girl doesn't end up as a mental case,
it won't be the fault of her mother.
It was your fault for asking her views.
I had an idiotic but well-meaning hope
that I might get her just this once, just this once in the whole of her life,
to disagree publically with her mother.
It might save her soul if she did.
(SIGHING)
I'm so sorry. He was terribly rude.
No, dear, just upset, I suppose, like all of us.
-It's most distressing. -Oh, she's quite all right now.
She always recovers very quickly from these little states.
Now, shall we all go and see Miss Cooper in a body
or would you rather I acted as your spokesman?
-Oh, no. -It's much better that you should...
I don't think your deputation is a good idea.
-You be our spokesman. -Very well.
I hope you all understand, it's a duty I hardly relish.
What a dreadful affair.
Why did it have to happen to us?
(BIRDS CHIRPING)
Oh, hello, Miss R-B. How is the world with you?
Were you looking for Mummy's paper?
No, no, of course not. I've got the other copy.
Don't pretend any more, please.
She's read it, you see.
Oh. Did she show it to you?
Yes.
-Oh. -And to all the others.
-Miss Cooper, too? -Mummy's gone to tell her.
-Oh, well. That's it, then, isn't it? -Yes.
Oh, God.
Why did you do it?
Well, there's some people drink too much...
Some people smoke 50 cigarettes a day.
'Cause they can't stop it, I suppose.
Then this wasn't...
This wasn't the first time?
No.
That's horrible.
Yes, of course it is.
I'm not trying to defend it.
You wouldn't guess, I know, but...
all my life I've been scared to death of women.
Well, of everyone, I suppose, in a way, but mostly of women.
I had a bad time at school.
Which wasn't Wellington, of course.
It was the council school.
Boys hate other boys to be timid and shy,
so they gave it to me good and proper.
Hmm. My father despised me, too. He made me join the army.
He was a Sergeant Major in the Black Watch.
But I was always a bitter disappointment to him.
He died before I got my commission.
I only got that, too, by a wangle.
It wasn't difficult at the beginning of the war.
But it meant everything to me, just the same.
Being saluted, being called Sir.
"I'm someone now," I thought,
"a real person. Well, maybe some woman might even..."
But it didn't work.
Never has worked.
Oh, I'm made in a certain way, you see, and I can't change it.
It has to be strangers
-and in the dark because... -Stop, stop.
I don't want to hear it. It makes me ill.
Yes, of course.
I should have thought of that.
It's just that
you asked me about why I did such things and...
I wanted to talk to someone about it.
I never have, you see, not in the whole of my life.
But I'm...
I'm sorry to upset you, of all people.
Why me so especially?
Why not the others?
Oh, uh, I could give a hang about the others.
They'll all take it in their various ways, I suppose,
but to them it will be nothing more
than another piece of gossip to snort or snigger over.
It'll be different for you, Sibyl. That makes me unhappy.
That's the first time you've ever called me Sibyl.
Oh, is it?
Well, doesn't seem much point in all that Miss R-B nonsense now, is there?
What makes me so different from the others?
Well...
your being so scared of...
Well, what should we call it, hey? Life.
Oh, you and I are awfully alike, you know.
Maybe that's why we've drifted so much together in this place.
(GASPING) How can you say we're alike?
-I don't... -No, no, of course not.
No, uh, you're not even tempted. Never will be.
You're very lucky.
No, all I meant was that...
Well, you and I, we're both so frightened of people
and yet somehow we've managed to forget our fright
when we've been in each other's company.
Speaking for myself, I am grateful.
And always will be.
Uh, I'm going away. You needn't worry about that.
-What are you doing? -I'm getting my things together.
Have you seen a tobacco pouch anywhere?
-It's here. -Huh?
Oh.
(CHUCKLING) Old Wellingtonian colours.
Why have you told so many awful lies?
Well, because I don't like myself as I am, I suppose.
So I've had to invent another person.
Not so harmful, really.
Most people have daydreams,
mine have just gone a little bit further than most, that's all.
I feel quite often I've managed to believe in the Major myself.
Where will you go?
Oh, I don't know.
There's a chap in London might put me up for a day or two.
Only, I don't awfully want to go there.
Why not?
Oh, it's rather a case of birds of a feather, you see.
-Don't go to him. You mustn't. -Oh, I don't know where else.
Another hotel?
Well, it can't be in Bournemouth or anywhere near here.
It'd have to be London
and I don't know anywhere in town I can afford.
I'll lend you some money.
-You certainly won't, Sibyl. -I will.
I have some savings that you can have.
-I can get more, too, if you want. -No, no, Sibyl. No, please.
-Well, you'll go to this man... -No, I won't.
-I'll find somewhere else. -Where?
Well, I'll... I'll be all right.
Ah, Major. Can I see you for a moment, please?
Yes, I know what you have to say.
-I'm leaving at once. -I see.
-That's your own choice, is it? -Of course.
Because I would like to make it perfectly clear
that there is no question of my requiring you to leave this hotel.
If you want to stay on here, you're perfectly at liberty to do so.
Oh! Uh...
That's very good of you, of course, Miss Cooper, but of course I must go.
Yes, well, I quite understand that you would want to.
I shan't charge you the usual week's notice.
When will you be leaving?
-Uh... -Before dinner?
Oh, of course.
Would you like me to find someplace for you to stay
until you can get settled?
Oh, I can hardly expect that, Miss Cooper...
There are two hotels in London run by the Beauregard group.
One is in West Kensington and the other is in St John's Wood.
They are both about the same price. Which would you prefer?
Oh, uh, West Kensington, I think.
Their number's here somewhere. Yes! This is it.
Would you like me to phone for you?
Uh, I think I'd better make the phone call myself.
Well, in case of further trouble,
I don't want to involve you more than I need.
Oh, uh, may I make the phone call from your office?
-Oh, certainly. -Mmm, thank you so much.
Uh, I'll pay for the call, of course.
(DOOR CLOSING)
You can have your meal upstairs, if you would rather.
Thank you.
Is there anything I can do to help you?
No, not now. I feel well, thank you.
He's going, that's good. I despise him.
-Do you? I wonder if you should. -Of course I should.
It's not the first time, he admits that.
No, I didn't think it was.
Sibyl, dear...
(SOBBING) Why is everyone calling me Sibyl this morning?
Please don't. You'll only make me cry.
Oh, I don't mean to do that, I just mean to help you.
That's better.
Much better.
It's horrible.
-He says we're alike, he and I. -Does he?
He says we're both afraid of people and life and...
sex.
What's the matter with me?
I'm a freak, aren't I?
If you mean you're different from other people,
then I suppose you're a freak.
But then...
all human beings are different from each other, aren't they?
It would be a dull world if they weren't.
Tell me, when did your father die?
When I was seven.
-Did you go to school? -No, I was too delicate.
I had a governess some of the time,
but most of the time, Mummy taught me herself.
I see.
And you've never really been away from her, have you?
Uh, no.
Only when I had a job for a bit.
I was a salesgirl in a big London shop.
I sold lampshades.
I got ill, though, and I had to leave.
Oh, what bad luck. Well, you must try again, mustn't you?
I don't know how.
Oh, just by running off and getting a job on your own, that's how.
Well, I have my menus to do.
Do you think he'll be all right?
The Major? I don't know. I hope so.
In spite of what he's done,
I don't want anything bad to happen to him.
He told me just now he'd always be grateful to me
for making him forget how frightened he was of people.
He's helped you, too, hasn't he?
Yes.
Well, he's going to a new hotel in London.
I hope he'll find a friend there.
So do I. Very much.
Uh, well, it's all right, I've fixed it.
You'll be pleased to hear that I said Mr Pollock.
And I didn't mention your name or this hotel.
Well, I must... I must get along and pack.
Goodbye, Sibyl.
Goodbye.
God bless you.
Very upset?
She's an odd one.
(LAUGHS) Almost a case.
She has a child's mind and scarcely makes sense sometimes
but yet she means a lot to me.
I think you mean a lot to her, too.
Oh, I did, I think. Not any more.
It was a gallant ex-soldier she was fond of, not a...
I told her that whole story about myself.
I thought it right.
Oh, maybe it'll help her to understand the whole thing of it better some day.
But I'm afraid she'll never get over it.
No, I don't suppose she will.
Oh, well, I must get a move on.
-What train are you catching? -The 6:45.
Oh, well, that gives you plenty of time to pack.
I've got a tremendous lot of packing to do.
Four years. Hellish business.
(LAUGHS) I'm dreading the first few days in the new place.
I'm afraid out of sheer terror
I'll be forced to take refuge in all that Major stuff again.
-Well, try not to. -Well, I'll try.
I'll try, all right.
Why don't you stay?
What, in the hotel, you mean?
Well, you say you dread the new place.
This one a damn sight more now.
Yes. Yes, I expect you do.
But here there would be no more Major stuff, would there?
Oh, you're... You're thinking of her, too, of course, aren't you?
Yes.
Reinstate the gallant ex-soldier in her eyes?
That's right.
Make her feel that she's helped me find my soul, in a way?
Yes.
Oh, there's not a hope. Not a hope in...
(SIGHING) ...the whole wide blinking world.
-Oh, I know my form, you see. -I wonder if you do?
I do. I do, indeed.
Well, thanks for trying.
(DINERS CHATTERING)
Oh, I don't need glasses. I can see perfectly well without them.
Were you the fricassee or the Cambridge steak?
What? Oh, it doesn't matter. They're both uneatable.
Well, what about the cold chicken, then?
Cold chicken? We haven't had the hot yet.
If I were you, I'd have the fricassee. It's all right, it's rabbit.
The fricassee, then.
Uh, is there any cheese?
-No. Cheese is off. -(SIGHING) Never any cheese.
Gladys, dear, I believe there's a new game on television tonight.
Oh, yes, I read about it in the Radio Times.
It sounds very fascinating.
Uh, I shall see it next week.
MRS RAILTON-BELL: Why not tonight, dear?
I'm feeling so tired. I think I shall go to bed immediately after dinner.
Oh, yes, of course.
What a nervewracking day it's been, hasn't it?
I feel utterly shattered, myself.
Thank heavens it's all over and done with now.
Pass the mustard, dear.
(CHATTERING STOPS)
Mabel! Number seven's in. You said he was out.
Well, that's what I was told.
Here, I thought he was leaving before dinner.
(SIGHING) I'm sorry, Major. There's been a muddle.
I'll lay your table right away.
Now, then, what would you like? Fricassee's nice.
Soup first?
(CLEARING THROAT) No, thank you.
DOREEN: There we are.
All cosy now.
-Good evening, Major. -Charles!
Good evening.
Clouding over a bit, isn't it? I'm afraid we may get more rain later.
Yes, uh, I'm afraid we may.
Oh, we need it. Hard going's murder on the form.
Well, you know Newmarket, don't you, Major?
Um...
No, no, I don't.
But I remember your saying that you...
Oh, I see.
Well, anyway, it's a very tricky course in hard going.
But if they get some rain up there by tomorrow,
I may be able to give you a winner for Tuesday.
Good evening, Mrs Railton-Bell. Good evening, Lady Matheson.
Good evening, Mr Pollock, I hear they didn't lay your table tonight.
-I'm so sorry. -That's quite all right.
I recommend the fricassee. It's really awfully good.
-Yes, I've... I've ordered that. -Good. I'm so glad.
It's very cold in here suddenly. Don't you think so, dear?
I think I'll turn my chair round a bit
and get out of the draught.
-Good evening. -Yes, evening.
Hampshire did pretty well today, did you see?
-380-odd for five. -Oh, that's very good.
I wish they had more bowling. Well, goodnight.
Well!
I should try the apple charlotte, if I were you.
It's... It's really delicious.
Oh, thank you, yes, I'll have that.
Come, Sibyl.
I haven't finished yet, Mummy.
It doesn't matter, dear. Come into the lounge.
No, Mummy.
Sibyl! Come with me at once!
No, Mummy.
I'm going to stay here and finish my dinner.
There's a new moon tonight.
We must all go and look for it afterwards.
Yes, we must.
Sorry it's been so long. You were a bit late, you see.
It's all right, Doreen, my fault.
What's the matter with you tonight? You always say, "Mea culpa. "
Oh, do I?
Well, it means the same thing, doesn't it?
DOREEN: Oh, I suppose so.
Now, then, uh, what about breakfast?
Breakfast? Um...
DOREEN: Cook got it wrong about your going, didn't she?
MAJOR: Yes, she did.
DOREEN: That's good. Breakfast usual time, then?
Yes, Doreen.
Breakfast usual time.