Original subtitles

Thank you.

The Journal of Rachel Harris.

An account of the life and works of her employer and fiancé, Plantagenet Evans.

Photographer, genius, man of letters, and financial wizard.

I know he pays minimum wages, but very generous he is with little bonuses

of expensive female wear.

Under his tuition, I've come a long way from that little country girl he

employed entirely without qualifications.

And here I am, much more experienced and nearly married.

A temporary loan, Miss Harris, of one of your coins of the realm.

A penny?

What do you want a penny for? There's nowhere around you to find a penny.

You want to? Go behind the rocks. I said I wanted to. Only watch out for that

gorse. Nasty, spiky stuff gorse.

I knew a girl once, you know, overbalanced at the wrong moment.

Straight back in it she did.

Pierced in 17 places at once.

The doctor who examined her thought they were needle marks accused of being a

drug taker.

Funny place, I thought, for a girl to inject us with drugs.

Where? Colwyn Bay.

What are you at the pearly for, Pat?

Screw up the camera.

Why? Why?

Because if I don't screw up the camera, the camera is going to screw up the

picture.

Oh, it's not working out right at all, this. Is it the light?

No, it's not the light. It's that mountain over there.

It's in the wrong position.

It should be over there.

It would be over by there if we were the other side of it. The other side of it?

Do you know what is the other side of it?

Swansea.

Precisely. And would you rather be living in Swansea than where you are

at the moment?

I'm living in Seine at the moment.

Only twice a week.

Three times last week.

Oh, well, bank holiday is different.

But the genius has its problems.

Especially when the genius has to buy and sell things to help make ends meet.

Don't scratch it now.

You're not just scratching wood. You're shaving lumps of my profit margin.

Oh, she'll come up a treat to Liz.

You know what this needs, don't you?

It needs a lot of lifting. That's what it needs.

It needs the love of a good craftsman. It needs doing up. I'm going to entrust

you with this work, will you? You'll enjoy doing this up, won't you?

He's supposed to be working on the castle.

Oh, he can do that too.

Yes, no one's depriving him.

Can he do furniture?

Of course he can do furniture.

He has all the right qualifications.

So little schooling, he has to be handy with tools.

Trust me, Willie.

You think I don't know a good craftsman when I see one?

It's your destiny, boyo.

We can't afford any alternative.

Daniel! I remember when you said he couldn't do more to vehicles either.

But his major problem, and what a burden it is for all of us, is that tendency

of his mouth to be more accurate than tactful.

Is there a problem?

Where's the nose?

Have you seen her nose?

Well, you're her father. Of course you've seen her nose.

What's wrong with her nose? It's lumpy, see?

Lumpy, isn't it? Lumpy.

Oh, it shows character, of course.

But just a teeny bit unfortunate photographically.

Tell you what, love, better put a veil back.

I don't see my face at all. Listen, love, if you've got nothing in the front

room, it's best to draw the curtains, isn't it?

Don't upset yourself. You've got a lovely nose.

You've got no right upsetting her. She can't help it if she's got a big nose.

People, you see.

Fascinating. What makes them do what they do? What draws a man, for instance,

a girl with a big nose?

I mean, has she got good legs?

Did he learn to love her gradually, feet first?

Has he got some personal vision of this woman? Half -dream?

Has he even noticed her, no?

He has now.

Everybody's noticed that poor girl's unfortunate future now.

Better now than later.

I mean, supposing he hadn't noticed until his honeymoon.

There he is, waiting in crisp new pyjamas, an unseen price tag lurking at

back of his collar.

The bathroom door opens timidly, and out she steps, wearing a few

transparent inches of shimmering nightie. She poses.

Shyly, his mouth goes dry and he whispers in a voice choked with emotion,

God, she's got a big nose.

Are you all right, Willie?

Oh, he'll get the hang of it.

Oh,

these doors still won't open.

I don't know, what we can of a proper vehicle?

Who, sheep?

You don't have to look.

That reminds me, we need a new bulb for the darkroom.

As an engaged, though still unmarried person living under the same roof with

fiancé and employer, I have to be extremely careful of my reputation,

when my sister and her husband live just across the road.

After all, this isn't Cardiff.

Up early, Rachel?

I popped back to bed for an hour, but I wanted a word with you, Mr Davies.

Nothing wrong, is there?

Well, um, not exactly wrong.

It's just that I have to be so careful.

An unmarried woman living under the same roof as her employer.

Oh, it's a large house. I have my own apartment.

But people talk, you know.

So I was wondering, Mr Davies, if you wouldn't mind leaving a more respectable

distance between my milk bottle and that of Mr Evans.

It doesn't look quite nice if people see our bottles as close together.

On which side do you want the cream, then?

Evans Photographic.

Miss Harris, personal assistant to Mr Evans, speaking.

I beg your pardon. It's hardly likely Mr Evans would be here with me at this

time in the morning.

If you just hold the line, I'll transfer this call to Mr Evans' personal

extension. Thank you.

Can you take a call?

Morning.

Oh, don't do that. Just the greeting of a lover for his last.

Goes with the artistic nature. Love of the physical. You don't think

was writing sonnets all the time, do you?

No. Well -known one Warwick said he was for his busy fingers.

Makes you cough?

I should think I would be a poor lover if I couldn't make you cough.

Not you, this damn thing.

Hey, don't call it a damn thing.

Repeat after me, in a voice quivering with admiration, the Swedish wonder wood

-burning stove.

You'll have to learn to love it, woman.

I have to sell the damn things.

I wish you'd sell this one.

Oh, I get willy to overlook it.

Can he do it? Oh, yes, he'll get the hang of it.

No, but he's improving, he's improving. When he first came here, he was

absolutely useless. Now he is merely incompetent.

Oh, dear, I shouldn't be wasting my days sitting around here taking photographs,

buying and selling, scraping and living.

I ought to be working on the novel.

We help you where we can.

Yes, I know, yes, and I appreciate it, especially at bedtime.

Oh, no, it matters to the artist to be surrounded by the people he loves.

It doesn't matter to him to be surrounded by people he was married to.

Listen, I can't go leaping into matrimony.

The artist belongs to the whole community.

Well, the attractive end of it, anyhow.

When do we get married?

And so we shall. I've told you, as soon as I have an established international

reputation. What about my reputation?

Oh, keep him guessing, love.

That's all I do around here is keep guessing.

Every time I pass him in the street, I can feel him guessing.

Yes, he'll be worth it in the end, though, won't he?

Chose you from thousands, didn't I?

You only had one other applicant, and she was 52.

No, she wasn't. No, 46.

52 around the chest.

No, I selected you for a certain quality of warmth about the eyes.

You came to me with no qualifications whatsoever, except a very natural gift

looking well in black stockings.

I never wore black stockings, then. No, well, I have to insist on some kind of

uniform. What sort of shoddy establishment would I be running here

And who but me would cover your unqualified but gentle hand like this?

With marmalade.

No one else around here, that's true.

I'm not saying that doesn't have its compensation.

It's other people, see?

I hardly dare, I told them it's a dress. My mother thinks it's sinful. Yes, I'd

value her opinions more if she didn't have all those veins in her legs.

But Sister Brown thinks it's sinful. She hasn't got veins in her legs. No, but

she's got that terrible lump, though, hasn't she?

What terrible lump? Her husband, Probert.

I've seen implements of a veterinary surgeon with more natural charm than

man's got.

Look at that face.

I love that face.

Low IQ and gentle with it. Nature's most attractive package.

Paradise we would have here, Willie, if only we could unlearn enough to enjoy

it.

Thank you, Willie.

Don't fuss her about, Willie. You know she works better under pressure.

It would appear to the casual observer that this door still won't open.

Oh, I forgot to tell you, that door still won't open.

Oh, well, that accounts for it.

I can manage that, thank you, Willie.

Takes it all in his stride.

I've asked you not to smile at him. Kindness brings him out in lumps.

I think he needs more grit in his diet.

Goes all limp.

Don't do.

Go limp, don't do.

Look at him. He's in a terrible state for a handyman.

You turn him to jelly, how's he going to hold his spanner?

First requirement of a spanner is somebody rigid at the other end of it.

This door won't open either.

We'll climb over.

Come on, man, we're late.

must think.

I know what I think.

I'll say this for you, girl.

If we had a candle, you've got the right sort of both ends for burning it up.

Terrible long legs she has in public.

She never had till she fell in with him.

Do me no good career -wise to be known as related by marriage to all that lag.

What can we do?

As a special constable, I could confront him and accuse his call

of defectiveness.

Oh, and there's power.

Why don't you?

Oh.

Suppose he tries to borrow money.

Do you think he would?

I wouldn't put it past his sort.

Stay, Herman.

There'll be no good come of going over there.

Come on, Rachel, love. Give up them black stocking.

Let Probert here find you decent work with the better surveyor's department.

ought to see one of my own family running off to be happy.

You're not deafening this thing, you're freezing.

Oh, a car of this nature suits the artistic image.

There goes Evans, they'll say.

Lover of quality artefacts.

Ah, you're a handsome woman, Rachel.

As anyone will testify who's seen you climbing in and out of this car.

Are you quiet today?

Legs like an epic poem.

Same classic shape, but going on forever.

Unmarried legs, though, isn't it?

Warms my heart, it does, to have those legs placed unreservedly at the service

of everyone's photographic.

By such devices, during the darkest hours, is the small businessman able to

raise himself from the depression engendered by the crippling fluctuations

the pancreate.

Oh, yes. Moves me artistically.

60 ,000 smackers with their love of his opinion.

That's a very artistic way of looking at it.

None of your chapel weddings, this. County.

County. Someone here I am. My reputation spreading before me throughout the

lengths and breadth of rural Wales.

I haven't got a job yet.

Bring the expensive albums. Should be good for a few albums, yeah?

airing your opinion and upsetting people.

Try and be tactful.

Tactful? What has tact got to do with the artist? The artist has to

He has to cut through the layers of social pretense and find the real person

underneath. That's what I mean.

Upsetting people.

Yes? Mrs. Rees.

Yes?

We spoke on the phone. The possibility of my contracting for your daughter's

wedding. Evans Photographic.

My card.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, do come in.

This is Miss Harris, my personal assistant.

Hello. Of the same address.

I have my own apartment.

My daughter's not at home at the moment. She's working, but I feel sure I can

speak on her behalf.

I wonder if we could have a quiet for a moment.

I'd like to soak up.

the atmosphere. You appreciate that the artist has to absorb the facts of

people. He has to hack his way through to the soul.

Thank you.

I could always unload a few of these little items for you, if ever you wanted

sell them.

Not that, of course, that's rubbish, but these are genuine.

Congratulations, madam, not only Bonnie for your age, but surrounded by objects

of quality.

Would you care for a coffee?

Two lumps, please. Don't go!

Make it later.

So, you're only child, is she? My daughter?

Yes. So you want the best, then, will you? Oh, naturally.

And here it is.

Tutty plastic.

But then what the hell isn't easy? Mind you, hard -wearing, though, guaranteed

to last longer than the average marriage, so why pay for leather?

What is more, this comes heavily ornamented in little silvery bells and

other sickening paraphernalia entirely inappropriate to the parlour state or

contemporary nuptials.

Some people still believe in marriage.

Chosen wisely, has she? My daughter?

Oh, yeah.

Son -in -law up to scratch, is he?

Charming boy.

It comes in a presentation box with simulated metal scrolls.

Would you care to sit down? Thank you.

They met at university.

Oh. Oh, no, he's not like that at all.

An undergraduate.

A pimple on the seat of learning.

He's actually a very pleasant boy.

I wonder if we weren't a little worried when she first brought him home.

Good home she's got.

Well, we've always done our best.

It's beautiful.

Thank you. Nurtured anxiously through all the crises of infancy, was she? She

had a terrible cough. Oh, dear.

Rubbed your little chest, did you?

No, not tonight.

Still, you pulled her through.

It wasn't easy.

No, no, no, no. A chapter of anxieties. But finally you raised them, and then,

when you think you're over the worst of it, back they come from university with

what appears to be a spare bedroll, but turns out to be your future son -in

-law.

It was a shock. Would be, would be.

We weren't expecting it. We never are, you see. My husband went mad. Well, it's

the only thing to do.

I tried to see the best in the boy. Well, yes, Christian. I tried to

him, cleaned up, standing next to my only daughter, my baby.

But you couldn't help thinking, my God, look who's rubbing her little chest now.

As long as they're happy.

They're a trial and no mistake.

Still, she's better now.

Naturally. Her father blamed me. It's all my doing, of course.

He can't forget the one time we left her. One holiday in 12 years. We left

once at my mother's. And she fell off her pony.

Oh, that's dreadful. You can't tell him. They won't be told, you see.

Headstrong. She's always been headstrong. Her father spoils her, does

it's true. The classical pattern, you see.

As far as he's concerned, she can do no wrong. No, and I suppose if you

interfere, he takes it out on you.

We never used to row.

But to hear him talk, you'd think my mother had pushed her off the damn pony.

Unreasonable man is he. Oh, totally. And I suppose the fire has gone out of your

relationship, has it?

No,

I suppose now he seeks consolation elsewhere.

Terrible, terrible, terrible.

Our days are like that.

Prone to crisis.

Sometimes, secretly.

I wish he had a bit less genius for proving the souls of people and a bit

tact.

No, not really.

I like him just as he is.

The wedding's off!

Did I propose last night?

I know I had a few, but I didn't know I went that far.

You went far enough.

No, not our wedding.

Mrs. Reith's daughter.

Who? You remember Mrs. Reith?

You made her cry.

Oh, yes.

Neurotic. Neurotic.

Sort of woman who goes through life wondering whether she's bought enough

rolls.

That's neither here nor there.

Not if you haven't gotten any. It's not known.

And her husband? The man you accused of being unfaithful?

What about him? She's divorcing him.

Oh.

Perhaps they'd like some pictures of that.

the job we've lost.

Never mind. Look on the bright side.

If she's getting divorced, I can get those little antiques off her cheap.

Two minutes quiet together.

I've had my hair done.

There are people who find me attractive, you know, but all you can do is stare

at your boot.

Just from a graveyard upon a suede boot.

Apart from the inconvenience, you can't help wondering if it's anybody you know.

So it's a wedding?

Oh, Rachel, you're a great comfort to me, you are, in the long marches of the

night. Keep your voice down, Reading Chapel.

Well, almost.

An affectionate nature.

How soft I am.

And for a country girl, a very adventurous taste in the latest urban

Be quiet, will you?

No more adventurous than any single young woman with her own Barclay curse.

If I were to have to pinpoint any fault at all, it would be your tendency to go

all anti -natal at weddings.

I should think I do.

I attend everybody's wedding but our own.

You said we'd get married.

Oh, Rachel, we are all... Right, aren't we? Not in the eyes of the chapel.

How do you do the looks, I guess?

Living with a man.

You have your own apartment.

Not used a lot, though, is it?

I don't know.

I keep my spare enlarger in there.

Hey, come on, get cracking.

They'll be coming out soon.

Now, try and make everything go smoothly, Pat. We can't afford to hang

We've got to go and photograph Mr Price Jones's giant Mar -O -3.

Enormous, they say it is. Can't close this greenhouse door.

Should have brought it up by here with us.

Might have livened up the nuptials a bit.

Can you dare mention it?

Try the tucked fur. For my sake.

It's me that gets it on the butchers after.

It's bad enough having to ask for two chops and separate wrappers.

Oh, Rachel, my love.

I shall be the absolute soul of discretion.

Not a word out of place, not a gesture, not a sign, not one tiny tincture of

tactlessness. Promise.

What? Would you doubt the word of a genius woman?

Could you move a little to your left, please?

Yes, you, madam, the one with the ears.

A bit more, please. I can still see you.

A bit

more,

then.

Perhaps you'd like to kneel down.

You'd better still lie down. Get a bit of practice in, will you?

If ever you want to borrow my spare enlarger, you're welcome to it any time.

Oh, now what is it?

Oh, here we go again. Why is it they always meet neurotics?

Yes, and honeymooning in Milton Keynes. What more could you ask for?

I wonder if she will carry him over the threshold.

I hope you didn't say that to her.

Well, only in passing. I thought it would be in her interest and not to be

cause of a hernia so early in the relationship.

Why do you have to talk to people so much?

Why can't you just take their photo? You're good at that.

And you know what you're good at, don't you?

Yeah.

on a Wednesday afternoon?

Making tea.

There's nothing sinful about that, is there?

Separate tea bags, of course.

Bye.

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