All language subtitles for goodnight_sweetheart_s04e06_how_long_has_this_been_going_on

Good night, sweetheart.

All my prayers are for you. Good night,

sweetheart. I'll be watching all you.

Tears and parting may make us alone.

But will the dawn bring a new day?

Of course I still miss you.

Of course I haven't sought solace in the
arms of another woman.

No, Ron has not led me astray, I promise
you.

In fact, I've hardly seen him the last
few days since he moved out. Yes!

Now, of course I can't wait to see you.

Yeah, all right. Yeah, I love you too.

What?

So does knobby knobbit, yes.

Well, that, needless to say, was Yvonne.

She's having a horrible time in Korea
and wishes I was there.

But the good news is she'll be home soon
and is eagerly looking forward to

cuddling up with her loving husband.

Assuming, and here I quote, that a
certain scouse freeloader is no longer

dividing his time between sprawling his
whale -like chassis all over her sofa

and ram -raiding her fridge.

I was on the verge of vanquishing Zargo,
ruler of the black planet, rescuing

Princess Daxia and bamboozling the 15
shape -changing dwarfs of Mysteria.

Has anyone ever told you you're a sad
bastard?

Stella.

You.

Yvonne. Stella's mum.

And that girl from the Kentucky Fried
Chicken with the ring through her nose.

Who was that on the phone? Your
formidable lady wife?

How do you guess?

Your cringing body language.

How is the ever -decreasingly little
lady?

Bearing up.

Isn't that what women do when they have
a baby?

That's bearing down.

I'll have to remember that.

So, is she okay?

Yeah. Except she's bored, lonely and
suffering from permanent indigestion.

Korean food doesn't agree with her. I'm
surprised Korean food has the nerve.

Still, she's really looking forward to
getting home at the weekend, you know.

Seeing her own little house.

Being alone with her own little husband.

I think the roaring ogres of Zahm have
affected my hearing.

You promised you'd find somewhere else
to stay when Yvonne came back.

Fair enough.

There's still one whole day to go,
though.

Who would game for him? I'd get lucky
tonight.

Oh, you found a flat?

No, I found an orgy.

Empathy. A different kind of club for
the unattached, where like -minded young

and wealthy professionals can make new
friends in a relaxed, sophisticated

milieu. Yeah, but with luck it'll be a
rabid meat market where women outnumber

men five to one.

Why don't you come along?

Oh, yet the last thing I need is a like
-minded new friend of the opposite

gender. You could lend me moral support.

I don't think it's your morals that you
want supporting.

Anyway, I promise to take Phoebe to see
Mrs Miniver.

Who's she?

She's a film.

Oh, well.

I can hardly compete with slap and
tickle in the back row of the Roxy.

Lipstick on your collar, the rustle of
petticoats, the twanging of suspenders.

There's not going to be any slap and
tickle.

Well, there might be a slap. I doubt
there'll be any tickle.

still keeping herself pure for the sake
of the unborn sparrow to be.

She's not starting her own religion, is
she?

Why bother going back?

Because I love Phoebe and she loves me.

Well, I love Yvonne too, of course.

Of course.

But, I don't know, World War II just
seems so much more tranquil than the

present day.

Phoebe isn't always arguing and assuming
I'm always wrong.

Plus, she's expecting my baby.

Isn't everybody?

You can still go out, though.

Oh, come on, five women to every man.
Sex isn't everything, Ron.

From my perspective, it isn't anything.

If I go on my own, perhaps I'll break my
duck.

I don't think you'll impress anyone if
you take your bath toys with you.

Maybe I'll meet a beautiful, lonely
millionaireess with her own penthouse,

Well, save you having to buy a copy,
wouldn't it?

That was the best film I've ever seen.

I preferred Forrest Gump.

I mean, that's come round this way,
yeah?

Where are you going?

Back to the Royal Oak, of course.

Via the chip shop, just in case they're
frying tonight.

They're not.

The ship bringing the lard in got sunk.

Oh. Oh, well, looking on the bright
side, next time they haul the nets in,

fish will be ready cooked. Come on.

We can't go. We missed the first five
minutes, didn't we?

Yeah, but we know what happens, don't
we?

Hitler is vanquished by Greer Garson and
a load of upper -class English

villagers with posh accents.

Don't run it, Gary.

I saw you wipe away a tear.

Yeah, when I burnt my hand on that
bloke's woodbine.

Anyway, I thought they had lovely
speaking voices.

Wish I sounded like that.

You're joking.

I wish you spoke like that, too.

Oh, no way.

Can't stand all that la -di -da public
school posing. Gets right up my nose.

And don't you just hate the way you
never see anyone in the pictures who

like us?

What, unless they're playing funny
working -class characters, going, Oh,

Governor, that's a smart tip for your
wedding, and no mistake.

I'll chew it off and all.

Well, of course people don't talk like
us in the flicks, cos we don't talk

proper, do we?

That's why I want our nipper to go to a
public school, so he can learn to speak

Nye.

Phoebe, do you know anything about
public school?

I saw Goodbye, Mr Chips three times.

Ria Garson was in that, too.

Yeah, well, so the name is Greer,
anyway.

Maybe they asked her mother what she
wanted to call her while she was still

being born, and she went, Greer?

It's just going to start.

Of course it is.

Well, once we've sat through the B
feature, the newsreel, the public

short, never thought I'd get nostalgic
about badly shot commercials for the

Bombay Palace Tandoori.

What about Tom Brown's school days,
then? That's hardly an advertisement for

boarding school.

Yeah, well, it's only a film.

What are you doing here, Stanley?
Where's Reg? Evening, Mrs B.

Reg asked me to keep an eye. He had to
get weaving.

Oh, so he's finally getting a toupee,
then?

What's that?

He didn't say.

But he was in a right to an eight, and
no mistake.

No, you take the weight off your plates
of meat, love.

I'm coping like a custard cream.

Well, half a bit and a port and a limp.

Right you are, guv.

It'd take us for the time of year, eh?

I went down the Apples and Pears to the
cellar for some light ales. It was right

brass monkeys and no mistake.

Have you ever worked with Greg Garson?

No, I haven't, but she'd be very welcome
round these parts.

Lovely with her crack lid and no
mistake.

Of course, if you want your child
growing up speaking like that and no

mistake... Look, I just don't want our
kid to talk like he's got a plum in his

mouth. You're just like my dad.

That's a vicious thing to say.

No, you are.

He was always complaining about toffs
and snobs.

Didn't like anyone he thought was better
than him. No, it's not that. Look,

Phoebe, private education is divisive.
People come out of those schools

they're better than anyone else.

Well, they are.

Otherwise, it's like saying a pedigree
dog isn't better than a mongrel.

Or a Rolls Royce isn't better than a
rusty old pushbike.

I went to a state school. I did all
right.

Grammar school, was it?

Well, yeah, sort of.

Well, maybe things were different in a
posh place like Cricklewood.

Around here, if anyone got into the
grammar, we had a street party.

But things will be different after the
war.

It'll be a lot easier to get into a
grammar school.

But it's not just what they learn you.

Teaching.

Well,

it's everything.

Mum was in service before she met Dad,
and she worked in a lot of top -throw

houses, and she used to say the thing
about the knobs is they're debonair.

You've got a lot of good traits, but
you're not debonair, are you?

I'm not even sure what debonair means.

Well, it means being like Leslie Howard
or Laurence Olivier.

Yeah, but they're not debonair. They're
just acting.

Engorge your ear, Gary. I really need
your advice.

Yeah, well, first, can I ask you
something?

Yeah, be quick about it. Would you call
me debonair? What do you want to go

changing your name for?

Just forget it, Reg.

What do you want my advice about?

Well, it's Margie Hook's old man, see?

Oh. Well, he hasn't found out that his
little Frankie is really your little

Frankie, has he? No, not that, thank
heavens.

But he's been knocking her about,
accusing her of flirting with the

on their bus.

Has she been?

As Margie had it, she was just being
pleasant, but he's a pigger, Jack. Here,

I've got a good mind to go round and
give him a foppeny one meself.

Reg, is that wise?

No, Phoebe, it ain't a good idea.

Cos in the first place, he's twice my
size. In the second place, the

Metropolitan Police has a policy of not
interfering in what we call domestics.

And C, cos then he'd find out about me
and Margie and little Frankie.

What would you do, Gary?

Well, it may be time to take your
courage in both hands, Reg.

I'm in enough trouble without letting
Drink Cloud be judgement.

Yeah, that would never do.

No, I mean, why don't you just set up
home with Margie?

You mean leave my Minnie?

Well, the way she carries on, do you
think she'd notice?

What about my job?

At least my sergeant found out. That's
right, Gary. It's all very well you

telling people how to live their lives.

Reg asked my advice.

It's all right. If Margie left him, he'd
come round looking for me. And like I

said, he's a big bugger. Pardon my
French.

Gary would back you up, wouldn't you,
Gary? If it came to a punch -up.

Oh, I don't know about that, Phoebe. I
mean a punch -up. It's not exactly

debonair, is it?

You may never keep it. Well, it's not
going to win an Oscar for special

I kept praying for Arnold Schwarzenegger
to come in and say, Hasta la vista,

middle -class English stereotype.

Only me and Phoebe had a row. What about
post -war education policy?

You're winding me up.

It's a long story.

You know, you are going to make somebody
a lovely charlady. Just making the

place nice for your bride's imminent
return?

So you really are moving out, then? Gave
you my word, didn't I?

I'm going to dust up the office till I
can find a flat.

So you didn't meet a millionaire ass
with her own penthouse?

Not quite.

A worker for the homeless with her own
dusthouse?

A sewage worker with her own... Oh, shut
up.

What about five girls for every boy,
then?

They were washing their hair.

I did meet a very nice bloke called
Pablo, though. Fair enough, I'm broad

-minded.

All right, I won't tell you, then. No,
no, go on, go on.

Pablo actually runs Empathy.

He's got this beautiful girlfriend,
Pandora. Met her through the business,

speak. He said that a year ago, he was
just like me.

A sad bastard, you mean?

No, I mean chronically unlucky in love.

Until he went to a professional.

A professional?

You mean a lady of the night? A loose
woman? A harlot? In short, a tart?

No, I mean a surrogate.

Well, there's a difference.

A surrogate is a woman who has undergone
special training in order to intimately

analyse and improve a man's sexual and
emotional performance.

Emphasis on the intimate.

She's got letters after her name and
she's registered for VAT.

Really?

So she's an expensive tart.

Predictable and unworthy.

As it happens, she is extremely busy.

But she might have a cancellation later
this morning. Mm -hm.

And if she does, she'll fit you in,
won't she?

If anybody wants me, I will be in the
bathroom, beautifying myself on the off

chance.

You can put your own hoover away.

Ron, she's not coming here, is she?

Hello?

Yes, yes, this is Mr Sparrow.

Look, are you all right?

Look, I know you're not all right, but
are you going to be okay? The nurse said

you're going to be okay.

Oh, Gary, it was awful.

At first I just thought it was
indigestion, and then on the plane I

was going to die. It's all right, it's
all right.

You're going to be fine.

I'll look after you.

You promised.

I'm so sorry.

Why? It's not your fault.

Look, these things happen, right?

You mustn't blame yourself.

Oh, don't blame myself.

A blimless face is little oriental sods
I work for.

Banquets every bloody night, eating God
knows what.

Time zone changes.

Strange Asian germs flying around 15
-hour days.

They shouldn't have made me go.

Well, I did say if you didn't want to...
You should have been a man. You should

have put your foot down.

Well, whenever I put my foot down, you
just kick me in the shin.

I hate it being on my own.

I thought the trip might be fun for a
bit, but it wasn't.

I was lonely too.

I mean, I had Ron, but you can't really
cuddle up with him for the night.

Well, you could, but I bet you'd regret
it in the morning.

And his snores.

I don't know what to say.

Look, we're going to try again. We're
going to have lots of kids.

But we've been trying for ages.

Yeah, well, it's not exactly a chore, is
it?

We quite enjoy terrain, don't we?

Well, except when it clashed with a
football.

Well, yeah.

Wish I'd never got you interested in the
game, though.

You must be Mr Sparrow.

Yes. Look, is she going to be all right?
Please be assured of my heartfelt

sympathy at this difficult time.

But I guarantee that your wife will make
a complete recovery.

We'll soon have you back on your feet,
Mrs Sparrow.

But you really must try and take things
a little easier.

Let your husband cosset you for a
change.

Yes, I will. I promise.

Look, I'll go and find a vase for you.

Helen.

Mummy.

My poor babe.

When did you get here so quickly?

Yvonne phoned me from the ambulance.

A girl needs her mother before her
husband, Gary.

Are you going to keep her in overnight?

I'd like to.

You are private, aren't you, Mrs.
Farrah?

Then I think she should stay in for at
least another 48 hours.

That's terrible.

Do you mean if she was NHS, you'd give
her two aspirin and send her home in an

ambulance?

Ambulance?

Minicab.

If you and your impossibly young
-looking mother will excuse me.

Mrs Barrett?

He's rather gorgeous, isn't he?

Very debonair.

Why does everyone keep going on about
being debonair?

Doesn't matter.

Well, if they're keeping you in, you'll
need your things.

Has Gary brought your things, Evie?
Well, I brought some nectarines.

Nightie? Bed socks?

Hair dryer?

Catherine Cookson?

Well, no, I just dashed out of the
house.

Typical man, shooting off half -cock.

Well, I'll just go back and fetch them.
No, I'll go. You're bound to forget

something important. Look, Helen, all
I...

Try not to blame yourself.

No, she doesn't blame herself.

I was talking to you.

She's come out of her shell since the
divorce, hasn't she?

Hi, I'm Ron.

Oh, that's right.

I heard all about you.

What should I call you?

Mrs Shackleton.

That's a bit formal, isn't it?

Well, this isn't a social call.

Where are you going?

I just couldn't take it no more.

I mean, I know I swore I'd stick with
him for better or worse.

But there's nothing in the marriage
ceremony about taking a walloping every

other night.

I know, love.

And what's the point of turning the
other cheek if all you get is a

that side and all?

Oh, I wish Reg was here.

He'll turn up.

He always pops in for a cuppa around
four o 'clock.

Unless he's off apprehending dangerous
felons.

Not much risk of that, eh?

But he's a good one, isn't he?

Art of gold. Yeah.

And I never flirted with the passengers.
I never.

Of course not.

Get along, Phoebe.

Margie, what are you doing here?

What's happened to your face?

She got hit by a bus driver.

No.

The animal.

Where's my little Frankie?

How are you doing, son?

Well, when I say son, I'm just using it
as a term of endearment. You know, like

mate or mucker.

Don't confuse him, Reg. He's only five.

I don't see how you can go back to him
now.

Well, where else am I going to go?

I suppose I could put you up.

Be a bit of a squeeze.

No. I've been thinking about what Gary
said and I've realised you're my

responsibility now. You and little
Frankie.

I'm going to ask Mrs. Bloss about the
flat over the shop. Although, for

purposes, I'll still be living with
Minnie.

Rich, you're one in a million.

With a bit of luck, your old man never
need find out.

He already knows.

I'm really sorry, love. I had to tell
him about you and me.

No, why?

Well, I thought if he knew I was in love
with a copper, it would frighten him

off.

But he just said if I left him, he
didn't care if he lived or died, and

his shift, he was going to come and sort
you out.

Oh, my sainted aunt.

Well, I told him you were an East End
copper.

You weren't afraid of some blustering
bully of a bus driver.

No, of course I ain't.

Phoebe, you got any medicinal brandy
left?

You know I really do love you, don't
you, Gary?

Well, I am incredibly lovable.

Ow!

I had Mr Sheik on the phone when you
popped out.

He was ever so upset.

He said I could take as long as I
needed. He was sweet.

Being Korean, I thought he'd be sweet
and sour.

So you don't hold the whole of South
Korea responsible anymore?

These things happen.

You just never expect it to happen for
you, do you?

Perhaps it'll bring us closer together.

I hope so.

Do you?

Of course I do.

It's just that sometimes you seem to be
far more interested in the Second World

War than in me.

It's just your imagination.

Anyway, sometimes it seems to me you're
more interested in your career.

Well, that's going to change.

This is a sign.

From now on, we should put us first.

I'm going to take some time off so we
can really be together.

Great.

Did you manage to get everything?

Gary, shouldn't you be getting back to
that shop of yours?

Oh, no, it's all right. I think Yvonne
would like me to stick around here.

Do you?

Well, if you need a break, Gary.

Well, if you're sure, I suppose I could
go and open up for a couple of hours.

But you take care. Yeah.

I'll see you soon.

I'm not blind.

Shall I put them in some water?

What's wrong?

I've been up the doctors.

Oh, no. I'm fine. But where were you?
You said you wanted to come. You

So I said, OK, and then you don't turn
up.

I'm so sorry. I forgot.

Obviously you forgot.

Obviously I'm not as important to you as
I used to be.

Well, don't be silly.

That's right. Call me stupid.

Phoebe, something came up.

Something really important.

More important than me?

More important than our baby?

I'm beginning to worry about me and you,
Gary.

You take the mickey out of the films I
like, you get on your high horse because

I want our child to have a decent
education.

Have you gone off me?

Well, of course not.

Have you seen another woman or
something?

Now you're really being... Don't call me
stupid again or I'll clock you one.

I had to then reg up the chemist for my
tonic because you weren't here.

I'm sorry. The record's stuck, Gary.

Look, OK.

Whatever school you want our son or
daughter to go to, that is fine by me.

I am trying to be more debonair.

Look.

There's debonair and then there's daft.

Come here.

I'll try and be more responsible.

You'd better be.

You didn't tell me Margie was here.

Didn't forget, did you? I heard voices
and an argument. I thought it might be

Jackie. We were just having a small
disagreement.

How's little Frankie?

I think he's finally gone off to sleep.

He's hardly kept a wink this last week,
what with all the fighting and the

swearing.

Oh. Frankie.

So you've done it, then?

You've left him? I couldn't take it no
more.

Why don't you play something nice for
us, Gary? A lullaby or one of your

romantic songs?

A lullaby?

I don't think I know any.

Do you play the piano?

A bit.

You are lucky, Phoebe.

Yeah. He is a bit debonair, isn't he?

When you're down and troubled And you
need some love and

care And nothing, oh, nothing is going

right Close your eyes

and think of me And soon I will be here

To brighten up

Even your darkest night.

So this is it.

Tackling. You're leaving me for some bow
-tie -wearing Nancy Boy piano player.

No, it's right there. I am not... Shut
it.

Well, that's lovely, isn't it? I come
all this way from Streatham to tell my

lawful wedded wife I'm prepared to
forgive her, to let bygones be bygones,

find her drooling over a fancy man.

Actually, look, I'm not her fancy man.

You've got it wrong, Jackie. Shut your
row.

I'll deal with you later.

Oh, suede shoes, eh?

I'll bet he wears eau de cologne.

Oi, you can't just come into my pub and
start... Nobody asked you to think

you're nothing.

So this is the long streak of piddle
you've dumped me for.

You want your eyes tested.

Well, maybe if you didn't black her eyes
quite so regularly.

She's my wife.

We've had such a lot of trouble we've
been having with the buses recently.

What with so many maintenance men called
up.

We have to do a lot of our own little
jobs nowadays.

I was only changing a set of spark plugs
this afternoon.

Now, look, I am not Reg Steadman. My
name is Gary Sparrow.

And I'm a member of the Secret Service.
You hit me, you'll spend the rest of the

war in the Tower of London. A coward and
a liar. You picked a good one here,

girl. Although, regardless of whether or
not I am Reg, do you think physical

violence really is the best way to deal
with complex family conflicts?

Yes. Leave him alone.

Gary learned unarmed combat in Japan,
didn't you, Gary?

Yes, I did.

And I should warn you that my right hand
is registered as a deadly weapon. Now,

you heard me warn him, didn't you,
Phoebe?

Gary, stop being debonair and hit him!
I'm going to rip your kidneys out,

Deadman. Look, I am not Reg Deadman.

He is.

Oh, dear.

Not the old look behind you trick.

Oh,

Reg, talk about timing.

Well, he was about to commit grievous
bodily, wasn't he?

Be lucky he'll get three years for this.

So he'll be in jail till the end of the
war?

So you know when the war's going to end
there, do you?

Just a figure of speech, Reg.

Yeah, yeah, just a figure of speech.

Don't worry, Sam.

He's just having a bit of a kick.

I thought you were going to dust in your
office.

Well, what with Yvonne and everything, I
thought you might need a friend.

Thanks.

There's pizza in the oven and a fixed
pack in the fridge.

Oh, that is considerate.

So a more than usually busy day in the
wonderful world of time travel.

Yeah, you could say that.

Wasn't sure you'd be back tonight.

Where do you think I'd be?

Well, there's always Phoebe.

No.

Not with Yvonne in hospital, it wouldn't
be right.

I know.

So, how was your day?

Oh, fine.

Hey, did your surrogate turn up? Not
exactly.

Hard luck.

Not exactly.

Well, Yvonne's mum swept in here like
Desert Storm, claiming to know all about

me, even though I'd never met the woman
before in my life. So when she headed

off to the bedroom, there was, quite
understandably, what you might call a

slight case of cross wires.

Ron, you didn't think... It was an easy
mistake!

You'd never believe she was 51, would
you?

You can hardly see the liposuction scar.

Ron, you didn't. Not with Yvonne.
Gentlemen may kiss, but never tell.

I'll tell you what, though, young Gary.

You'd better start treating me with some
respect.

Because if I play my cards right, I
could be your father -in -law.

Good night, sweetheart.

Sleep will banish sorrow.

Good night, sweetheart.

Till we meet tomorrow.

Sweetheart.