Original subtitles

I didn't know you owned a cottage.

Why did you two never live there?

I visited once, but I never cared for it.

Anyway, it was your grandfather's.

It was really all very basic.

Goodnight.

Goodnight, dear.

My dear Flora, your photograph is getting pretty battered

with all the travelling around in my breast pocket.

I can't tell you where we are or much of what we're doing, of course.

Much of the countryside is so beautiful that

I have to remind the men that we're not here on holiday,

but then merry hell breaks out again.

I'll spare you the details...

Aim at the olive groves, until the others get through to relieve us.

Yes, sir!

Bastards got the supply lorry before it could get through the gates, sir!

It's the driver, sir. Another dead with him.

They shot out the tyres,

- and it's tipped over in the ditch. - Put him with the others, quickly!

We need the MO! I think this one's still with us, sir.

The MO's dead.

Put him with the rest. Quickly!

- Not another? - He was in the back with the supplies.

Oh, Christ.

Set him down gently.

I need you back at the gatehouse.

- We can't have the others ambushed. Do you understand? - Sir...

Well, don't just sit there! Help him!

With me!

With me, come on!

Sugar...

The lorry's full of bloody sugar.

March.

Thomas March!

March, stay with me.

Stay with me! March!

Sync & corrections by www.addic7ed.com

Captain.

You were lucky.

No, your lot saved my life.

This...

This was your real life-saver.

I need to get your sketchpads back from our CO.

He... He's not exactly artistic.

Berryman?

Was I a beast to you at school?

Berryman!

Er, well, actually, you were always very kind.

Has anyone seen Captain Berryman?

What a relief.

Berryman, a word.

Yes, sir.

- Yes. - All right, then. - Pass it.

- Almost. - Stay on it.

- Left! Left! - Push it, push it! - Hey!

Come on! Come on, get stuck in!

♪ Down in my heart I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy... ♪

Who are you writing to?

Oh, um, a girl back home, Flora.

She's a teacher.

Here, James!

Oh.

I've known her all my life. She's almost like a sister.

Come over here! Over here!

But not entirely.

Two left feet, you.

She, um... She lost her parents in an air raid, just like me.

Almost there, almost there...

- Goal! - (CHEERING)

Goal!

Listen up, men.

This is Captain March.

He's an official war artist.

Now, you're not to mind him drawing you.

His work is good for morale.

Sir?

Sir, is it true that the Hun lay on tarts for their soldiers?

Yeah, how come they get tarts and we get artists?

It's the morale back home that art can raise.

It's for your wives and girlfriends, your children...

Don't let them cheek you.

Sir?

Go on, sir...

Paint me!

Put it away, Bates.

But he's raising my morale, sir!

- Ready to move? - Yes, sir.

Yeah? Everybody here...

Bates will drive you to a rendezvous point,

and then you'll be driven back down to the boat from there.

So, how far to the handover?

An hour at least, depending on the state of the road.

- Well, in that case, nature calls. - (ENGINE PURRS)

Are we likely to come under fire?

Hopefully not.

Save fuel, man. As you were.

Yeah, come on.

The area should have been cleared, so it's...

I could...

It's bloody embarrassing but I can't button my fly single-handed.

Oh.

Promise me that you'll come and find me?

I mean it.

Captain.

Captain Berryman!

We ought to be off, sir. Rendezvous time's not that long away.

Of course, Bates. Good man.

Thank you, Bates!

Good luck.

What's so amusing, Travis?

Patroclus, miss. Patroclus and Achilles.

I don't understand.

Your closest friend is butchered in a battle

in which he wore your armour because you disdained to fight.

You lament - perfectly understandable.

But they're not just friends, are they?

Greek for friendship, Wykeham.

Erm... Agape, miss.

Love between heroes was regarded as surpassing the love within marriage,

but in Sparta's...

Class rise.

Miss Talbot,

boys,

we have just heard that Mr Churchill has accepted Germany's surrender.

The war in Europe is at an end!

You may cheer, boys.

No more bloody war!

Eddie!

Oh!

Hello.

Are you lost?

I... I was... I was looking for Captain March,

but perhaps I have his address wrong.

No, no, no. He has the studio upstairs.

We share an entrance.

Oh.

I don't bite, unless you pay extra.

I'm Lucien -

landlord, watchdog, purveyor of shade to the gentry.

Who are you?

I'm, um... My name's Berryman.

Michael Berryman.

Enter, Michael Berryman.

You came.

We were only demobbed from Colchester this morning.

Erm... If it's... If it's not convenient.

No, don't... Don't be silly. It's...

Erm...

Ah...

So, what are your plans?

For the rest of the evening?

Bugger all.

Oh, good.

And what about...?

Sorry, I've forgotten her name.

Flora.

Flora Talbot. She...

She doesn't know I'm back yet.

Left here!

Left!

I haven't been here since my parents died.

I should have written.

I'm a coward.

I wrote to you in my head every bloody day, but I...

I wrote to you.

Really?

Nothing ever got through.

I never said I'd posted them.

Tea!

Very old tea.

Fuck, it feels cold.

I also found...

an unopened tin of shortbread.

- It must be pre-war. - Mmm.

Morning, March.

Captain.

- Erm, how much is that going to be? - Shall we go for six?

Thank you so much.

You've not mentioned her all week.

It was scarcely appropriate.

Do you love her?

I...

You'll love her too.

How cosy(!)

Please, Thomas.

Yeah, I don't understand how you can be so matter-of-fact.

Does she love you?

I imagine so, or she wouldn't have agreed to marry me.

Please say yes, Tom.

Say you'll be there, at least, please.

I... I've no family.

I don't want to be your bloody family.

I...

Hmm?

Please...

You have no idea, have you?

What about, Thomas?

You surely didn't think that we could set up house together

- like man and wife? - Please.

Just... Just be quiet.

Just... Let's just get back to London.

Nearly there.

I'm so glad you wore Mummy's brooch.

Oh, bloody hell.

You are not to cry.

Oh, there he is. Thomas!

Hello. Erm, you must be...

Daphne - older sister, matron of honour and all that.

Thomas March. How do you do?

Michael says you're an artist. How very romantic.

Oh, hardly.

Flora, how do you do?

Hello, Thomas.

You look wonderful. Worth the wait.

Thank you.

Oh, sorry that I couldn't come to your supper party.

I am horribly unsociable when I'm working.

Talking of which, I brought you something -

a wedding present.

- Oh. - That's so sweet.

We should probably...

Yes. Michael?

Yes.

You came.

Of course I came.

The fucking best man has to.

If any man or woman knows just cause or impediment why these two

should not be joined together, let him now speak,

or else hereafter forever hold his peace.

Do you, Michael Sadler Berryman, take Flora Agnes Talbot

to be your wedded wife?

I do.

Do you, Flora Agnes...

It seems wrong, having no-one in tears.

Well, I'd hope so.

Oh, I don't think we...

Compliments of Mr March, sir.

Thomas, you shouldn't have.

You can't get married and not have bubbles.

Thank you.

Thank you.

So, to the bride and groom.

Bless you, Thomas.

Oh, please, no speeches, anyone, or I shall cry.

So, are you...

Are you really not having a honeymoon?

We haven't a bean until Michael's salary from the bank comes through.

We used pretty much all of our savings on the deposit for the flat.

So not even a weekend in your cottage?

Erm...

Oh, dear.

Not until it has a boiler, a new bathroom and no mice.

The flat is darling, though - right on the park.

You must come for supper.

Yes, you must.

Apparently, Thomas's pad in Soho was unreconstructed Hogarth.

How marvellous.

Not really.

So, won't you miss your teaching?

Hardly. All those dirty-minded little boys.

Ah, food!

Daphne could eat a horse.

Naughty!

Thanks so much, Thomas, for everything.

You, um...

You've... You've been brilliant.

Haven't I?

Thomas, I, um...

Thomas I, um...

I really...

What?

What? What do you really?

I just...

Just give us a bloody minute, will you?

Of course.

You don't have to go through with this.

Of course I do.

If you have either sense or decency,

you'll do the same.

Well, I'll go and settle up.

You're perfection.

I feel a bit of a fraud.

Oh, darling, you'll be fine.

You'll see.

I bet he's a real goer, but sensitive with it.

It's...

What?

Tell me.

It's a lot nicer if he lets you ride up top.

Oh, Daphne!

I'm... I'm told it gets better.

Yes. I heard that too.

Mrs Berryman.

Actually, do you mind just...?

Oh, of course. Sorry, darling.

Now, if I snore, you're to throw a book at me.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Back to work, Berryman.

So, who else shall we invite?

If we simply have Daphne and this new chap of hers,

the poor man will feel he's being auditioned.

Well, isn't he?

She rather implied she'd already auditioned him,

and he'd passed with flying colours.

Sorry, what was that? I was miles away.

I said, who else shall we invite?

Er, well, I ran into Richard Tremaine

at Blackfriars the other day.

You know, from the regiment. We could have him and his wife.

What about poor Thomas? We haven't seen him since the wedding.

Daphne thought he was a bit of all right,

and has all sorts of eager spinsters lined up for him.

No, I don't think so.

Why ever not?

Well, he's not terribly sociable, really.

He'd only be a dead weight.

And you can tell Daphne he's a confirmed bachelor.

She'd only take that as a personal challenge.

_

_

Ah...

Daphne.

Thank God. I'm starving.

Me too.

Oh, of course you are. Poor darling.

How many weeks to go?

Two or three.

Ooh. Let's find you a nice bench.

Such a drama this morning.

Hmm?

Bill Gladstone.

Which is he?

Victorian watercolours and china. Lives with his mother.

He was arrested, first thing this morning.

No! Why?

It turns out he was also living with the man upstairs.

One of their neighbours had sneaked,

and the police showed up at dawn and caught them together in bed.

Will he go to prison?

Almost certainly,

and Bill has a prior history of gross indecency,

which isn't as bad as buggery, but it's almost as bad.

No more handling Lady Downing's bristols for him!

Gross indecency? You mean... exposing himself?

No. You know, public lavatories.

Oh.

Now, darling, tell.

You sounded all shaky when you rang,

and I was quite worried.

It's nothing.

Hormones running riot, probably -

making me feel like a caged beast.

It is good to see you.

You know you can tell me.

You can tell me anything.

I know, but it's nothing.

Everything's fine.

Well, this is nice.

I'm sorry, darling, I was miles away...

and you've gone to so much trouble, and in your condition.

Time on my hands.

I tidied your desk this morning.

Why?

I needed some ink and it was full of junk in there.

I hope I didn't throw out anything precious.

Well, I'm a hoarder. You'll reform me yet.

Where's Thomas's painting?

I took it down. I rather hate it.

Well, perhaps I could take it to the cottage, so you...

Back to your precious cottage, you'd love that, wouldn't you?

Pudding's only pears, I'm afraid.

Oh, God.

Take this fucking thing!

What should I...?

I don't want it under our roof another night. It's repellent.

- Yes. - I mean, what are you?

Are you safe around children?

What were you thinking, marrying me? Do you even love me?!

If I'm expected to lie around bringing forth like some brood mare,

while the two of you...!

Darling. Darling, sit down...

Don't touch me!

Never touch me. You're disgusting!

Criminal!

Mr Berryman?

Oh, thank God.

It's this way.

You came just in time.

Go and have a drink, Mr Berryman.

It'll be hours yet, and it's all woman's work from here on in.

Ooh! Sorry. So sorry.

- Let me put those in water. - Thank you.

There's not much on offer at this time of year, even at Covent Garden.

You went all that way?

They're lovely. I like white roses.

He's... He...

He's sweet.

Bit soon to tell.

Eager feeder, though, but it hurts like hell.

I thought maybe Robert, after your father,

and James for mine.

Look, darling, I'm so...

I am far, far too tired to talk about it.

Would you like to hold him?

He's... He's asleep. Perhaps we should just leave him.

No, pick him up, please.

- I really... - I want the father of my child to hold his son.

Hold his head.

So, you like it?

What?

The name - Robert James.

Yes. Yes. Yes, it's perfect.

It's perfect.

Did you light a cigar?

Certainly not.

Papers!

There you go, sir. Thank you.

Papers! Get your papers...

_

Come on.

It took me several weeks to track you down.

How?

Your boss and I go back a long, long way.

But he's...

He's married with children. There's a lot of it about.

Thomas is in prison.

Why?

The usual - cottaging.

Oh, Christ, he really can pick them.

Gross indecency, dear.

One year.

You must visit him.

But, look, it...

No buts. He needs you.

What lies you tell are up to you.

Well, I'm told dentistry usually works.

Why me?

Because you could fuck, understand him and meet the mother.

You got under his skin.

He loves you, truly.

Right, let's be having you!

Sit yourself down.

Yeah, well, move along.

I, um...

I brought you a pad and some charcoal.

You look terrible, Thomas.

It's prison food -

permanent trots.

You look like a bank manager.

How is...

..Flora?

Yes, fine. Fine.

Though, um, motherhood seems to make her a little impatient.

She, um...

Baby boy arrived in November - Robert.

Well...

Just make sure that she doesn't...

..that she doesn't turn him into a banker too.

I, um...

We'd, um...

We'd like to ask you to be his godfather.

Well, once... once you get out.

What on earth for?

Well...

Well, whatever you think of church or children,

it's rather a good way to stay in touch

with the people who... who matter.

Don't visit again.

- But... - It's upsetting.

Oh.

Do something for me.

I was at school with Thomas, Mrs March.

I know who you are, Mr Berryman.

How is he?

He, er...

He's, um... He's grown a beard.

His father did that once, for Ibsen.

Does it suit him?

Yes.

Yes, he...

He looks like a submariner.

It's oddly like having him back in boarding school.

I was forbidden to visit there too, in case I embarrassed him.

Oh, you needn't look at me with such sensitivity.

I'm well aware of what he did and why he's there.

I have been storing them in his absence,

rather than leave them with that creature in Soho.

I write him letters in soft pencil on one side of cartridge paper,

so he can draw on the other.

Well, you should take this one.

It's only a study.

He must have sold the finished portrait.

I call it Man In An Orange Shirt,

but it's you, isn't it?

Yes.

So you must take it.

Oh, no, I... I couldn't possibly.

Uh, I think it's... it's wonderful, the colours...

but our... our flat's so tiny.

Perhaps, um...

Perhaps just one of the notebooks?

Oh, well, that one's damaged.

Yes, but, um...

I was there, you see.

I have a very small house in France, Mr Berryman...

..in a very small village, in Cassis.

You can go there when Thomas comes out.

He... he can paint and... and you can...

you can write something.

That's very kind of you, Mrs March, but, um, he wants...

he wants nothing more to do with me.

Oh, that's just pride.

And I have a wife and child.

Is she happy?

She's...

I, um...

I should... I should be getting home.

My darling Thomas,

you refuse my visits so you're probably tearing up my letters too,

but there's nothing else I can do but keep trying.

It's beyond my control, do you see?

All those months ago, when I had nothing to lose really,

I wrote to you in my head,

but was too cowardly to set more than lies on paper,

and now I find I no longer care.

The love I feel for you runs through me like grain through wood.

I love you, Thomas. I love you.

Your face, your voice, your touch, enter my mind at the least

opportune moments and I find I have no power to withstand them.

No desire to.

I want us to be together as we were in the cottage,

only forever, not just a weekend.

I want it to go on so long that it feels normal.

I want to do all the ordinary, un-bedroomy things

we never got around to doing -

making toast, raking leaves,

sitting in silence.

I love you, Thomas.

I've always loved you -

I see that now.

Tell me I'm not too late.

There she is.

- Going to say hello? - Oh, look.

So solemn. So like his pa!

I can't believe he's nearly one already.

I say, not to worry about bridge tonight if Michael's away.

Percy can always take me out somewhere instead.

Oh, tonight? But he's...

I was coming out of South Ken on my way to Christie's this morning,

and I saw him striding towards the train with his suitcase,

as well as the usual briefcase.

Oh, yes. I'm such a dolt, darling.

I'd completely forgot to tell you,

he's got some dreary conference to go to.

Banking - whither?

You know the sort of thing.

Well, we can play when he's back.

Are you all right?

Fine.

Oh, do hush, Robert.

Oh, hush!

For pity's sake!

Hello. British Savings Bank.

Hello. Can you put me through to Michael Berryman, please?

- Who's calling, please? - It's his wife.

Oh.

Oh, of course, those wretched teeth! How stupid of me to have forgotten.

Oh, stop it!

I can't bear it! Stop it, stop it!

STOP IT!

Come to me...

Sorry.

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry...

It's Thomas...

- Thomas, dear boy! - Thomas! Thomas! How are you?

Thomas. Oh, Thomas...

Well...

So, are you all right?

Let's get in the cab. Come on. We'll see you at the flat?

Yes. Get in.

Hello, darling. Get in.

Hello.

Hello.

Oh...

I'll tell you anything you...

I'd rather you didn't.

I don't want a divorce.

Please, Michael!

It wouldn't be fair to Robert.

But I... I...

I don't want to make you wretched.

I never want details.

You must never get caught.

We will never speak of it.

But, darling, I...

Please, don't you love me at all?

Of course I do.

I'm just a sister who happened to bear your child.

I...

I can live with that.

I do, I...

Lovely morning, sir.

All well?

He wants to make an entrance.

Ready?

We can't wait.

- Oh! - Oh!

Stop laughing at me!

Oh, dear.

Fortnum's will cheer him up.

I just need to find the gents.

We'll meet you down by the lifts.

Robert, can I help?

Sorry...

Sorry.

- Who's joining me on the bus to Fortnum's? - Me!

May I come too?

Don't be silly.

Michael, Flora!

Oh, Thomas!

How... H-h-how... How are you?

Fine. I'm fine.

Stunning day.

We've just been kitting someone out for boarding school,

so I'm bracing myself for a long afternoon sewing in name-tapes.

Oh, he can't be that age already?

We haven't met, Robert. I'm Thomas March.

I knew your father when he wasn't much older than you are.

Yes.

Yes, before I became respectable.

Thomas, you've been too long a stranger. We must have you over.

Yes, we must.

I've not long moved, to Cassis.

Oh, to... to your mother's place.

Yes. That's right.

I'm just over for my... my new exhibition.

It opens tonight.

Oh, bother.

Well, you could go along, darling.

Well, no, it's... It's Robert's last night of freedom.

Can't let you start school without a present, hmm? Here.

- Thomas, you... you shouldn't... - What do you say, Robert?

Thank you, sir.

Oh, that's our bus.

Come along, Robert.

Bye-bye, Thomas.

Goodbye, old man.

- I'll find seats! - We're not going that far.

Oh, let him, this once. School's not that much fun.

Two and a child to Piccadilly, please.

Two and a child to Piccadilly.

- There you go, sir. - Thank you.

Any more fares?

He'll drink himself to death in the sunshine.

Probably.

Was that where you were going?

Yes.

Look! They're really good ones.

Goodness!

Well, I'd put them safely away until we get home or you'll get all mucky.

Don't fidget, Bob.

"To Flora and Michael,

"in the hope the enclosed might one day hang in your drawing room.

"Thomas."

Who did you go with?

A friend.

_

He loved me...

but he married me to be like everybody else.

This is so not OK.

You are leaving a table of friends just to fuck a complete stranger.

You're not even out, are you?

I bet you've still not told your granny.