All language subtitles for The Crow Road S01E02

Almost seven years ago now,

my Uncle Rory set out from his girlfriend
Janice's house in Glasgow,

to ride a motorbike up to
my father's house at Lochgair. He never got there.

- What do you want me to do?
- Find out where he is.

What I feel for Margot has nothing
to do with conservatories, nor with you.

What, you want me to
drag you to the loch and burn us

in one of your
pseudo-religious ceremonies?

You never change, do you, Dad?
Mr Bloody Rational.

I tell you, Lew,
I just love that woman.

He was coming over
all mysterious and saying

that there was someone here who was
having the wool pulled over their eyes,

had been for a long time
and that their name was...

McHoan.

I don't want you to think that
I'm trying to seduce you or anything.

D'you think Rory's...

Do you think he's away the Crow Road?

My father, my uncle and my brother
were all writers in their way.

And they all stuck
religiously to this rule.

Write what you know.
It gives you immediacy, command,

a depth of truth that your audience
will find impossible to resist

Where was I?
Oh, yeah, my little brother, right?

He just cannot get a woman.
His sex life is zilch-o.

It's, like, sad, you know?
Anyway, last week, he phones me up.

He's finally acquired a woman
prepared to have sex with him,

but he's having a few problems.

Anyway, I go round,
ask him what the problem is. He says,

"She won't stop going down on me.
What can you suggest?"

So we get out our puncture repair kit
and she's holding her air fine now.

Is that right, Prentice?

No, Gav, it's called artistic license!

... I mean, some bastard had
a very sick mind

He's right about one thing -

you havenae had a lumber
in living memory.

Apart from Auntie Janice.

She's not really my auntie.

I cannae believe you had sex
with someone over 40.

- Urgh!
- That's creepy, man, no way!

Lewis McHoan.
Happy New Year' Goodnight!

Right. Do you mind?
I'm trying to write an essay.

- Put it back on. Come on!
- Come on, Prent

The NBA is on Sky in 15 minutes.
Anyway, it's Christmas.

You havenae done a stroke all year.
Why start now?

- He's right.
- Relax, for fuck's sakes!

Aye.

Not that Do you mind? Next!

No.

Whoa-ho-ho!
Leave it on that, leave it on that

Whooo!

Whoa!

Making sure everything's well rubbed in.
We know it makes sense.

Those foreign beaches...

For God's sake!

- Verity?
- Hi, Prentice. Happy Christmas.

I'm driving to Uncle Fergus
for New Year. Do you want a lift?

Verity...

... look, would you mind
doing something for me?

Guys, guys.

I'd like you to meet Verity.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Now, what can I do for you, Verity?

I'm driving to Gallanach
for New Year. Do you want to come?

Well, the thing is,
I've got this essay to write.

Oh, come on,
I've got the BM downstairs.

You'll not regret it.

Well...

... OK. I'll just get my stuff.

Right, lads. Happy New Year.
Enjoy your basketball

- Bye.
- Bye.

Fuck.

What a surprise. I mean,
I was thinking of going home.

- You look great, Verity.
- Ta.

- Nice motor.
- Yeah. Uncle Fergus bought it for me

to go around customers.

I've got another surprise for you,
Prent

What?

- Hey, bro! How's it going?
- Lewis.

Just got in from Melbourne.
Thought I'd make Mum's year, eh?

Come on, let's get going.

Yeah, well, just wait till I get
chance to do my real stuff, it's...

it's more anarchic,
off the wall, you know?

- What's wrong?
- These bloody sussies!

You get all caught up in them
when you're driving, you know?

No, I can't say I do.

Whoa!
Shit, look out!

Sorry. Sorted now.

You, er...
lost it a bit there, Prent

- Sounds?
- Sure.

- What's that?
- Just some old papers of Uncle Rory's.

Janice gave me them. Something
he was working on when he disappeared.

- Another travel book?
- Nah, it's... Dunno.

Bits of film script,
some prose, family history.

- What, our family?
- Yeah.

Things I've never heard
anyone mention before.

- And some poems.
- Poems!

- Doesn't sound like Uncle Rory.
- Listen to this.

"We know this life is merely
a succession of brutal images,

punctuated by relative peace.

Whose gutsy heaves at first disguised,
but couldn't hide.

The secret at Gallanach
powering us to our next disgrace."

No job at Hallmark Cards for him then!

There's a letter to Sting with it,

asking if he'll set the poems
to music as part of a concert project

And have that guy with the Frisbee
in his mouth sing backing vocals?

That is sad! He really did lose it
after that first book, eh?

It was easy to joke
but as I got deeper into Rory's papers,

it seemed to me that
there was less and less to laugh at.

I wondered if his memory
of our lunch at Gallanach

was the beginning of the secret.

Ken! Rory. Good to see you.

- What do you think?
- What is it?

It's my new observatory.

They're making the lenses for
the telescope in the factory next week.

- Must be costing a fortune.
- Yeah. Isn't it great?

Promised myself an observatory
to finish the place off.

- Do you remember, Ken?
- I remember.

- Where's Fiona?
- She's in the kitchen, I think.

Not too happy with me at the moment

I hope you're not mistreating
our sister, Ferg.

Otherwise we may have
to send the boys round.

Wouldn't dream of it, old son.

Now, you'll stay for lunch.
Caught rather a nice salmon this morning.

Watch that turret, it's brand-new.

Mair money than sense, that one.

- It's quiet without the girls.
- Mm.

Well, you can't stint an education.

I told Fergus
the local school was quite adequate.

That'll be right.
Bunch of pinko liberals

filling their heads
with socialistic nonsense.

Hang on, Fergus,
Kenneth teaches there.

I rest my case! Admit it, you do fill
their heads with socialistic nonsense.

Every chance I get, Ferg.

- You see?
- For heavens sake, Ken,

stop winding him up!

Were just trying them for a term.

We've promised
they can come home if they hate it.

My sister sent Verity there
and she's blooming.

Diana and Helen need a taste
of independence, it's good for them.

So, where are you living, Rory?

In a squat in Hackney.

Hackney?

How fascinating.

- Full of piccaninnies, I'm told.
- Don't take any notice.

Weren't you making a packet out
of the travel book? What's it called?

- The Deccan Traps.
- Uh-huh.

Wasn't really my thing.

Besides, who needs a book to find
out about India? Just go to Bradford.

As far as you were concerned, Ferg,
there were too many Indians in Inverary.

Come the revolution,
you'll have me up against a wall

Without a doubt, Ferg.

Anyway, I always thought you were
the writer, Ken. Where's your book?

Well, it's a difficult time,
you know, with the kids...

Ship 'em out, man, get some peace.

Can't have little brother beating you.

No...

mm, suppose not.

Now, Rory, tell me, do you shoot?

- Pardon?
- Shoot?

There's a lame hind up on the bend
needs taking out Do you fancy it?

Watch out, Fergus,
you'll end up in a book.

I don't think so, Fi.

So, what do you say, Rory,
you go out tomorrow?

Yeah.

I realise now
how hard it was for Dad.

Rory had no kids.

No dead-end teaching job, no ties.

He just upped
and went to India one summer.

When he came back, he had a book.

My father was always the provider,
the encourager, the protector.

Even when they were boys, it seemed

Must be blocked somewhere.
Poke up a stick up, Kenneth.

I'm tellin' ye, it's no a chimney.

Just poke a stick up.

- Chimneys my arse, it's a shite hole.
- No, it's a chimney.

It is, isn't it, Kenneth?

- Don't know, Ferg.
- I should know, it's my castle.

- No, it's not, it's your da's.
- Well, at least I've got a dad.

It's a shite hole, so it is.
You're just a jobbie.

- It's a chimney.
- You're a big jobbie.

Fergus is a big, smelly, snobby jobbie!

Get out of my castle! Go on!
I've got to go home and you can't stay here.

Snobby jobbie, snobby jobbie!
You can't catch me.

Snobby jobbie!

You can't catch me. Snobby jobbie!

Get out of my castle, you...
you bloody beast!

Rory!

Hey! Hey!

Where's Rory gone?

Can you see him?

Shit.

Rory!

Rory, get back here!

- Fergus, help us look for Rory.
- Come on, Fergus.

- I've got to go back.
- Come on!

I can't. My father's taking me
to the gymkhana after lunch.

- For Gods sake!
- Gymkhana?

- I'm riding my new pony.
- You big jessie!

- Rory!
- Rory!

- What's that?
- What?

- Look.
- Oh, Christ!

Rory!

- Rory, are you in here?
- Kenneth?

There he is!

- Lachlan! Kenneth!
- You'll be all right, I promise!

Here! I'm up here!

We're coming, Rory, we're coming!

Rory! Rory!

- Jump!
- I can't, it's too high.

The ladder.

- Hurry, it's getting hot in here.
- I'm coming, Rory.

- Hurry.
- Come on, Rory.

Come on.

- Come on, Rory!
- Quickly.

Sorry, Kenneth.

He's bloody done it this time.
That's old Urvill's hay.

We're not telling.
We're not telling, OK?

- You tell anyone and you're dead.
- OK, Ken.

No sweat.

This is Barrie.

Look at it go.

People said afterwards you could
see the barn burning to Lochgilphead.

By the time the engines arrived,
it was too late.

Fergus's father never found out
who had burnt his prized hay barns.

It was the first real secret
they had ever been party to.

The first and least serious of many.

- Prentice?
- Hm?

You're here, Uncle Hamish's.

Right.

I don't understand
why you don't go home, Prent

Nobody understands.
Him and Dad arenae talking.

- It's a matter of principle.
- You're out of date, man.

Students do not have principles
anymore.

No, I'm not a hypocrite.

I'll come round and say hello later.

- Cheers, Verity.
- No problem.

- See you at the castle for the bells?
- Aye, sure.

Hey, bro, born in a field? Door!

I'm expecting to see you, Prentice.

- OK?
- Yeah. I'll be there.

Hey, my lucky night!

Later, bro.

I'll never wash these lips again.

Dear Lord, we ask that you direct
your retributive vigour

upon all godless souls this Christmas.

And especially those who,
in their folly,

purchase small dogs without thought
for their future well-being.

Bring them through your wrath
to understanding

that a puppy
is not just for Christmas...

- Hamish? Hamish?
- Woman, you're interrupting

the festive energy
of the Great Provider!

I'm sorry, dear.
But look, it's Prentice.

Prent... Prentice!

Dear boy, dear boy!

Look, our numbers are swollen.

We are a congregation.

Archie, Effie, this is Morgan.
This is my nephew, Prentice.

He's one of us. A believer.

Aye. Happy Christmas.

Happy Christmas.

- He's getting worse.
- I know.

I didn't mind when it was just him.
But he met those awful people.

Is he still working OK
up at the glassworks?

Oh, yes. I mean,
during the day you'd never know.

Your Uncle Fergus
won't hear a word again him

- Have you been home yet?
- No.

I was hoping
maybe I could stay here again.

Och, Prentice. You've got to stop
this silly row with your father.

- He doesn't deserve it.
- I'll try and patch it up.

- Promise?
- Aye. I'll go up tomorrow.

Good. Now, look...

I've made your favourite.

- Cod Creole?
- Yes.

But they didn't have any cod,
so I did it with pilchards.

What is all this stuff?
Is it a book? A film? What?

It's a work in progress.

So why don't you
come back and finish it?

Ach, it's...

You do it.

- What's the secret?
- It's all there.

- You just have to work it out
- I'm too busy.

No, you're not. Anyway,
you promised your gran you'd find me.

You going to speak to Kenneth?

Not you as well, please!

You're too hard on him. Who cares
about religion in this day and age?

And you might learn something.

What? Learn what?

Rory!

- Mum?
- Prentice.

Hi, Dad.

Good to see you.

- Mary?
- Aye?

Prentice.

Ah, Prentice!

Hi, Mum.

I told you he'd get here.

Didn't I?

I got a letter from the bank.

Said that you weren't cashing
the cheques I'm sending. Why not?

Didn't seem right.

Oh, that's it, it just didn't seem right?

You're not the only one with principles, Dad.
Strange as it might seem.

- That's not principle, that's stupid.
- Kenneth, stop it.

Prentice,
what have you been living on?

Bits and pieces.
I've got a bit of a student loan.

This beggars belief,
putting yourself in debt needlessly.

- Dad, we don't agree on anything.
- Doesn't mean I won't support you.

I don't want supporting.

There it is.

Sorry.

I've got some work to be done.

Nice one, Prent

I just don't understand.

What's this all about?

It was too hard to put into words.

Somewhere along the way,
we just lost contact.

Maybe it's natural.

Maybe it's stupid to think
your dad's going to be

the soothsayer and comforter
all your life.

Dad? I can't sleep.

Oh, Prentice. For goodness sake,
it's almost midnight.

I can't sleep. I'm scared.

Come here.

Now, we're all in the house,
we're all shut up together.

So, what are you scared of? Monsters?

- No.
- Well, what?

I'm worried I'll think of something bad
and make it happen.

Och, dafty! Don't get worried about
what you think, that's your imagination.

It's other people you scare with that

Go on, sit down there.
I'm just going to finish off.

- What are you doing?
- I'm trying to write a story.

- What's it called?
- The Legend Of The Mythosaurs.

Are you going to be famous
like Uncle Rory?

I don't know.

- Would you like to hear some?
- Is it good?

Well, you can be the judge. OK?

OK.

You ready?

"The Legend Of The Mythosaurs,
or Where The Cairns Came From."

"Way back, a long time ago,

there were these big, enormous animals
that lived in Scotland..."

What did they look like?

Well, they were like...
huge, big, hairy elephants.

With long necks.

"And they would swallow these rocks

and they used these
to grind up their food.

And they usually lived
down in the glens.

But when they became
very, very old...

they would climb
up to the top of the hills,

lie down...

and die.

All the fur and the skin
and their insides all turned into earth,

plants, insects...

until only the skeletons
and the tusks were left.

And then, in time, the bones,
the tusks would turn to dust

And that was blown away
in the Highland winds.

Until everything was gone,
except the rocks,

which the mythosaurs
carried inside them.

And they lay, a big pile...

where they lie to this day
on the tops of the hills.

And that is where
the cairns come from..."

... best technology to the Americas
because we don't put enough money...

Kenneth, what's he doing up?

I'm just telling him a wee story.

Filling his head with more
atheistic nonsense, no doubt.

He's my son,
I'll fill his head with what I like.

Isn't he bonny?

- I could just eat him up.
- Beddy-byes.

It's a pity they have to grow up.

Are they real,
m... mythosaurs?

You monkey!

Yes, they're real.
Because they're in my head.

And now, they're in your head.

Like... Like God is real
in Uncle Hamish's head?

Aye. But they're all just stories.

Like Santa Claus, the tooth fairy.

That's the beauty of it.

Good night.

It's a good story, Dad.

Thanks.

Prentice, my man! Hey, come on in.

- How are you? Happy Christmas.
- All right. You too.

- Mum's in the kitchen.
- OK. Coming through.

- Hello, Mrs Watt Happy Christmas.
- Oh, Prentice!

Nice to see you, son. Calum, get
your filthy fingers out of that cake!

- Are you Auntie Ashley's boyfriend?
- No, he is not.

- And you mind your own business.
- Full house.

Aye. My uncle's over from Australia.
Everybody's up to see him,

big family gathering.

- All right, Prent? How's it goin''?
- No bad.

- Where you all sleeping?
- God knows.

Me and Ash are in the caravan.
It's like Black Hole of Calcutta at night.

- Here, do you want a beer?
- Aye, cheers.

- Heard you'd got a new job.
- Yeah, I'm moving on up.

Assistant programme controller.
They're sending me to London.

Listen, while you're here,
there's something I want to show you.

No, listen, listen.
I'm showing something to Prentice.

I want you all to be good
and go upstairs for five minutes

and not come back down, OK?
Yes, Auntie Ashley.

- Hurry up.
- On you go.

Thank you.

Right, d'you want to tell me?

Remember that guy I was telling you about?
The one I met in Berlin.

The mysterious man in the Jacuzzi?

Aye.

The one that said he knew something
about your family.

I don't think
you're in much danger.

There has been quite a lot
of Croatian activity along the valley.

I think the Serbs just took fright
when they saw the c...

- That's my boy.
- Are you sure?

Definitely. I think he must've been
covering the European Summit.

We just got talking and when
he realised where I was from,

he said that stuff
about a family in Lochgair

having the wool pulled
over their eyes.

- What hotel was this?
- The Schweizerhof. Why?

Don't know, it's strange.

Why?

There's something
going on in my family and...

I can't work out what it is.

It's funny,
his face seems familiar somehow.

Will you stop that bloody fighting?
Pack it in, I'm tellin' ye!

Who gave you the bloody sweeties anyway?

I'm sorry, Uncle Lachie,
I just wanted to use the video.

It's all right, Ash, I just don't
like them eating shitey stuff.

You remember Prentice McHoan?

Aye. Are you all right, son?

- Is this your man?
- No.

- Nice to see you, Mr Watt
- Aye.

How's your father?
Is he still writing his books?

Aye.

You look like him.

Well, tell Ken I was asking for him, eh?

Aye, OK. But aren't you all coming
up to the castle for the bells?

Uncle Fergus said
everybody's welcome.

I'm sure Dad would love
to catch up with you.

No, I don't think so.

What did I say?

God knows. I don't think
he likes your Uncle Fergus.

So, Prentice, is the delectable
Verity going to be at this bash?

Yep.

And you've come round cause
you need to get drunk before we go.

You read my mind.

- Dean?
- Aye.

- Man here needs to get drunk.
- Right, just comin'.

I mean, what's the big argument?

Dads angry at me because he gave me
the freedom to think for myself

and now he doesn't like what I think.

Prentice, it's not even as if
you believe in Christianity.

- What?
- Christianity, you don't believe in it.

I don't know.
I want to believe in something. Not God.

Some kind of force in the world.

We can't just be a bunch
of particles wandering about

There must be more than that,
some kind of structure,

a meaning to birth and death
and everything.

- You need a woman.
- Yes.

Come on.

Dean. Cheers.

See you later.

Have a nice time at the party.
Happy New Year.

You see, thing is, I've always
found you incredibly attractive

and I was thinking maybe later on,
we could go up to your room,

rip each other's clothes off and make
mad, dangerous love until dawn.

- No.
- No?

You've got to at least offer her dinner
before it gets dangerous.

- I'm an impulsive kind of guy.
- Well, she won't buy it.

What should I say?
Come on, tell me.

The key that unlocks the magic box.

Aye, that's it.

Well... Helen!

Ashley! Prentice!
I thought you'd never get here.

Come on.
Five minutes to the bells!

Just dump your coats.
Drinks upstairs, Ash.

Just in time for Dad's speech.

- Is Verity here yet?
- She's around somewhere.

See you up there.

Ash, are you going to... you know,
let me into Verity's magic box?

Later, Prentice. It's party time.

Prentice, how nice to see you.

Uncle Hamish. You enjoying the party?

Well, the Great Benefactor
has indeed smiled upon me

and sent me a bottle
of Fergus's 12-year-old malt

- Care to join me?
- Nah. I'm just looking for Verity.

Ah, yes. Charming young woman.

Revolutionised the sales division.

Is she the object of your affection?

- Kind of.
- Excellent!

Well, if you deserve her, dear boy,
she will be sent to you.

- You think so?
- Oh, quite certain. Mm.

Just as I'm certain
that God intends you

to obtain another bottle
of this amber nectar for me.

I'll see what I can do.

Ladles and gentleman,
your host, Mr Fergus Urvill!

- Hamish. Fergus.
- Oh.

Ladies and gentlemen,
can I have your attention, please?

There's just a few minutes to the bells.

I'd like to welcome you all here -

family, friends and employees
of the Gallanach Glassworks.

My, um... My darling wife Fiona
always used to say

this castle should he a happy place,
full of folk and bustle.

She would've been so very happy to see
so many familiar faces here tonight.

So, charge your glasses,
join with me in a toast

and have a very good New Year!

To friends and family.

To friends and family!

- Mrs McSpadden.
- Oh, Prentice, son.

It's nice to see you.
Effie, stop eating the savoury bites.

- Sorry, Mrs McSpadden.
- Those are quality canapés.

Not for the likes of you.

Uncle Hamish wonders
if the Great Provider

- can spare another bottle of whisky.
- Oh, that man!

You'll need to go into the cellar -
the first door on your left.

The lights beside the door.
Effie, touch another...

Shit.

Happy New Year.

Something...
Something bad happened last night.

Just can't quite...

You saw the woman you love wrap herself

around your richer, wittier
and better-looking brother

like cling film around a sausage roll,
will that be it...

Christ.

Does this mean you're going to go
home and shag my girlfriend again?

I've told ye, that was just a casual thing.
This is different

I love Verity.
What am I gonnae do about that?

You must think of her on the toilet

- Pardon?
- Imagine her on the cludgie.

Does wonders for damping down
the old nether regions.

- Shit!
- Yeah, you've got it.

Now, let's get back to me.

Jesus Christ, leave me alone, will you?
I've got my own problems.

- Who's in there?
- Dad?

On the cludgie, son, never falls.

What are you doing?
I thought I heard your voice.

Must've crashed out here last night.

Aye, I think you should've -
after your speech at Fergus's party.

My speech?

You're lucky Lewis didn't throttle you.

Verity was practically in tears.

- What did I say?
- Oh, nothing.

Just announced that your brother
and Verity were visiting a place

which you described as Shag City,

mentioning the fact
that you had prior claim

to adjusting
the young lady's suspenders

on the basis that you worshipped
the ground that she walked on.

- No.
- I think your 200-strong congregation

were able to work out
what doing the delta foxtrot

with the old earth-moving equipment.
appertained to

before you finally became incoherent
and, as they say, left the building.

God, no!

What is up with you, Prent?

Why do bad things happen?
You know everything. Just tell me that one.

It's just...
It's just the way things go.

That's it?

Your sister's dead,
gran fell through the conservatory roof,

your brother's been missing
seven years, probably dead,

- and that's just the way things go?
- Rory's not dead.

- What?
- He's not dead.

How do you know that?

Come on...

I've got something to show you.

Mum, I'm sorry.

It's not me you need to speak to,
Prentice.

- Is he up?
- Went to Edinburgh first thing.

With Verity.

Happy New Year.

I hope so.

I really hope so.

Now...

Somebody sends me
one of these through the post

every three or four weeks.

- And you think it's him?
- It's a signal.

It's about something that happened
to us when we were boys.

It's a secret we kept

And... you never thought to mention this?

I didn't want to stir things up.

Stir things up? What things?

Why didn't you try to find him?

Prentice, when Rory disappeared,

I was up and down
that Loch Lomond road so many times.

Maybe he'd come off his bike,
over the wall and into the water.

I checked every glen, I looked.

But you let this go?

I figured he has his reasons.

What possible reason could there be?

I don't know. Maybe he wanted
to get away from the family.

And you let him do it?

Prentice, you can't always know
the cause of everything.

Why bad things happen.

- Why not?
- Och, Prentice.

Prentice, this is a big universe out there.

I miss my mother,

I miss Fiona,

I wish Rory was here.

But I don't pretend to be able
to explain and understand everything.

And that's the trick
your Uncle Hamish is playing on you.

He's trying to make you think you can
understand the universe. You can't.

It's the same trick every religious nutter
has been pulling for centuries.

Leave him out of it.
He's off his head.

At least he thinks there's
some kind of system to everything.

Oh, right, because you've got a system,
you can come to the conclusion

that there's some geezer up there
with a long, flowing grey beard

who's going to tell you whether
or not you'll get off with Verity!

You think you're the fount
of all knowledge, don't you, Dad?

I can't talk to you, Prentice.

You don't want to find Rory.
It suits you better that he's not around.

He was a better writer than you
and you can't stand it!

I think my father's beliefs
fenced him in all his life.

He envied Rory's adaptability,
his grandiose plans,

his women, the easy friendships
his brother casually formed

with the most unlikely people.

Confidences he was never party to.

That strange shooting expedition,
for instance.

I found an account of it
on the train back to Glasgow,

shoved in near the back
of Rory's papers.

- By Christ, it takes the edge off.
- It surely does.

Any good for hanky-panky?

It can be.

God knows, I could do with
something to loosen Fiona up a bit.

- Yeah?
- Yeah, she's...

I hope you don't mind me
talking about your sister like this.

It's all right.

She never really...

Ah, fuck it.

What's that?

Rats. In the celling.

- What are you doing?
- Shh-shh!

- Lesson for them.
- Fergus, I don't think that's...

Come on!

Come on.

Let's nail the bastards.

Come on, give me a hand.

- Just you and me, Rory.
- Right. Where are they?

In the celling.

Ferg, are you all right?

What's the matter?

Oh, God, Rory,
I've got to tell someone.

Tell me what?

You've got to swear never to tell a word,
you've got to swear on your life.

I swear. What is it, for God's sake?

Are you sure you don't mind me
talking about your sister?

It's OK. It's OK, come on.

Come on, you can tell me.

It's OK, come on.
Come on, you can tell me.

Partick Cross, this is Partick Cross.

Passengers for Queen Street
and the underground please change here.

Shit!

Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.

- Gods sake!
- Och, you... Bloody idiot!

wait! Stop the train!

- Gav?
- Shit! Shit!

Shit!

Prentice, I wasn't expecting you back.

I've been using your room.
The beds more comfortable.

Evidently.

Well, you gonnae tell me who the lucky
lady is you're shagging in my bed?

Hi, Prent

Auntie Janice?

Look, it's not Gavin's fault

I came round looking for you and...

Well, we got... talking and that

How did it go with Verity?

I hate my life.

I'll put the kettle on.

He's a nice guy.

This came for you. I thought it was
a Christmas card, so... I opened it.

Should've finished that essay, Prent

Still, they can't chuck you out
just like that,

there's always the appeals committee.

You did what?

I was just scoring out the dedications.

Nobody noticed I'd worked
my way through 20 copies.

For Christ's sake, man, why?

Don't know. Seemed appropriate.

Shit didn't really hit the fan
till they got me into the back office.

Found three copies of David Humes
Treatise Of Human Nature

stuffed down the back of my jeans.

What were you going to do with them?

Sell them, of course. I need the money.

Just what sort of dickhead
are you, Prentice?

What are your parents gonnae think?

- That's just it, isn't it?
- What?

This is your way
of rubbing his nose in it.

You're just a wean really, Prent,
aren't you?

Ashley, you're taking it
far too melodramatic.

I'll give you some fucking melodrama,

if you don't start behaving
like a fully-evolved sentient being.

That's him. Paxton-Marr, he's here.

- Are you sure?
- Course I'm sure.

Give me the matches.

OK, sit here, don't come over to us,
see if he recognises me.

Last time we met I was wearing
a micro-bikini in a hotel sauna.

Fnar-fnar!

Don't comment

I haven't finished with you, by the way.

OK, OK.

So, I can't find out any more.

I've rung every lost property
in the south of Scotland.

Loads of Rory's stuff, it's just gone.

And I lost that scarf
Darren gave me too.

- The mohair scarf?
- Aye.

- Sorry.
- It was your scarf, shit-for-brains.

- I'm sorry.
- Yeah, yeah.

So, let me get this right.

You think that Paxton-Marr's sending
books of matches to your dad

to make him think
that Rory's not dead?

I don't know.
Maybe Rory's sending them.

Or he's getting Paxton-Marr
to do it for some reason.

Maybe it's some kind of signal.

The only other person that
knew about the barn burning down

- was your Uncle Lachlan.
- My Uncle Lachlan?

What's he got to do with this?

Christ, I don't know.
I don't know anything!

God knows why I'm even bothering with this!
I've got my own problems.

You're not wrong, sonny.

You're smart, aren't you?

Aye.

You haven't tossed
your whole life away.

No. Not yet, anyway.

How do I do it?
How do I fuckin' do it?

Never mind. I still love you.

Do you?

OK, I like you.

Like? Is that all?

You're clutching at straws here,
Prentice.

Going to bed with me is not going
to make you feel any better.

Might feel a bit better.

Prentice, just to summarise,

you've no money, you're about
to be chucked off your course

and done for shoplifting,

you obviously haven't had a bath
in recent memory

and you're generally acting
like a total prat

because some rich floozie
gied you the bum steer.

Call me old fashioned, Prent, but...
I just don't find that attractive in a man.

I'm unhappy.

I tell you what we're gonnae do.

You and me are going
back to your flat

with this bottle of whiskey
I just happen to have in my bag.

Were gonna get filthy drunk.

And if I havenae got some sense out of you
by the time we finish the bottle,

I'm gonnae to break it
over your thick fuckin' skull

OK?

OK.

Right.

Now walk.

So, this Auntie Janice
still shagging Gavin?

Been hard at it non-stop for two weeks.

Should be coming up for air round about now.

Auntie Janice.

Oh, Prent!

What's wrong?

Prentice, you've got to ring home.
It's your dad.

OK. I'll ring in the morning.

It's crazy, it's fuckin' crazy.