Original subtitles

8 years out of work I'd been in 1934.

8 bloody years.

Hey, you'll not put bad language into this book you're writing, I hope.

I always tried not to use it in front of the women.

It was when Pitcage used to drop me he started to cuss.

Coming back up, it'd fade out into the sunlight as you stepped out onto Pitbunk.

Some of it carried over.

How could it not?

8 years, a note to pass your time once you'd run

through the jobs, round the house and on the allotment.

Men on doorsteps and street corners.

Shame and idleness written their bodies bent towards a note.

We walked Pitfield day after day.

Such a day.

Walking with our Frank, our Dora, come home with young Sam.

Me's dad gone off and nobody to turn to bar us stricken lot.

Two more bloody miles to feed.

Two more wasting souls to worry to.

He's been talking to you and me.

The tape's run out.

Ah, it's not to get him to learn me how to change it over.

I've done no to hardly while you've been away.

Run back from church yet?

Flown back on her wings as she's growing, you mean.

Starting church at her time.

I shall have to tell her when she comes home.

It's too late to take out insurance at her age.

Cage doors open and birds take flight.

I heard that, but I shall disregard it.

Have you had your breakfast yet?

I'll see to it.

How about you, Shakespeare?

Morning.

Morning.

Morning.

Morning.

Where were you last night?

House.

I was looking for you.

What are you doing today?

What day is it?

Sunday.

Wake up.

I, er... I wanted to take you somewhere.

I'll tell you later.

What do you want for your breakfast?

This.

What do you want?

I haven't got that, Dad.

Oh.

What's he up to?

I don't know.

Asked me what I was doing.

Said he wanted to take me somewhere.

Yeah, I'm going as well.

And Eileen and Grandad for a trip.

Where?

Kiston on the coast.

Where we used to go when we were kids, you know.

Oh!

Bucket and spade hub, is it?

Yeah, he says he wants to show us something.

What?

I don't know.

He says he'll show us when we get there.

He's in a funny mood.

Yeah, it's a new one.

I can't place it.

I've caught him looking at me the last day or two as if he'd never seen me before.

I'm not going through a personality change, am I?

What, it was a hernia operation I had, not a transfiguration.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Hey, you caught the sun, didn't you?

Did I?

A cup of tea to be going on with.

Stop spoiling him.

Let him wait.

I'll spoil him if I want to.

He's over there if you want to help yourself.

Thank you.

Grandad says he wants you to show him how to change the tape.

Yes, yes, I know.

After breakfast.

Not before.

He can just be patient.

You can play with it after breakfast.

Play with it.

You see?

Here.

I

didn't mean him just to play with it, you know.

You're not serious about him writing this book, are you?

About writing a book from what he says I am, yeah.

I thought you'd just done it to humour him.

Good heavens, no.

He's a goldmine when it comes to digging up the past.

Well, what about me?

You?

I've lived too, you know.

Why can't I be a goldmine?

Well, you... you can.

I mean, you are, I'm sure.

Oh, I can chip in then, can I?

Well, I'll have to anyway.

It's his mind.

He gets things wrong, you know.

I've a lot clearer recollection than what he has.

I shall chip in then, when it's necessary.

Sorry.

Have a good honeymoon, did you?

I suppose I still do call it honeymoon.

I've started calling it something else now.

You see, wedding usually comes after the baptism.

We've been a bit edgy with each other, actually.

She told you, though, didn't she?

That she was pregnant, I mean.

No, no, she didn't, as a matter of fact.

But you told her as you knew, though?

No, no, I didn't.

I mean, if she wants to keep it to herself... Keep it to herself?

She can't keep it to herself much longer, can she?

No.

Why should she want to keep it to herself?

Why?

Are you asleep yet?

How long have you been there?

Hours.

Liar.

There's a cup of tea there for you.

Still not coming with us?

Oh, I'm miles behind on my thesis.

You don't mind, do you?

Of course I do.

You just want to put me in debt for the next time you want a favour.

Is Tom going with you?

Oh, the same as ever with Tom.

We shall know when we're halfway there.

Look, I want to tell you something.

I shouldn't really, but if I don't, he'll mess it up.

He's screwing himself up to tell you.

By the time he gets there, he'll just blow.

He's going to get married.

Oh, aye, well, I knew that was on the cards.

When's he going to bring her home?

He thinks you won't like her.

Do I know her?

Doubt it.

She lives on the estate.

She's, um... Anyway, I'd better leave that part of it to him.

Not that he'll care much one way or the other, what I think.

Oh, he will, as a matter of fact.

Do you like her?

Yes.

Not that that's much of a recommendation.

You don't seem to like my choice much either, do you?

Charlie...

You've not been seeing him, have you?

Because of me?

He came and talked to you.

But what's wrong with that?

I asked him not to, and he did.

Well, why did you ask him not to?

What point was there?

Did it make any difference to you?

You think I'm not prepared to give an inch, don't you?

You did it.

I'm not all that against him that he came to talk to me.

It's in his favour.

Why?

He never talked to me about politics.

I'm not so far off, Charlie.

I'm still an infant to you, though, aren't I?

You've a long way to go yet, Deb.

Yeah, but you can put up with it in me because I'm still your infant.

I don't want the rest of my life to be a debate on politics, Deb.

I've lived it too long.

You'd rather opt out, wouldn't you?

Opt out?

Isn't that what you want?

What you're looking for?

Have you got it, then?

Forget the numbers and run back to the beginning.

That's for playback, you say.

For playing it back so you can hear what's being said.

Where's that piece of paper you left me with questions on it?

Sam did say he was meeting us here, didn't he?

Yes, I think so.

I could have gone after all.

Employment I were on while you were asking me about doors.

Yes, there.

Right, I'll leave you to it, then.

Aye, aye, leave me to it, leave me to it.

Sorry.

I could have gone in his stead.

Shush, will you?

You've not got it on, have you?

Why should we shush?

I'm thinking, aren't I?

That's what I'm doing, I'm thinking.

I thought you were supposed to talk into them, not think into them.

Quiet, will you?

What are you doing?

He's writing a book.

You think I can't, don't you?

You think I'm bloody ignorant.

It's not me that's ignorant, it's you.

You no note you, don't you?

You've lived your life with your eyes closed.

What could you tell him about life in this place, even as near as 30 years back?

You think I've got nothing to say, don't you?

I could put more into that than you.

Nothing to say.

I could say a few things about you that would open a few eyes.

Ranting and raving's been your specialty.

Stirring things up, trouble-causing and such.

Just because I've kept my mouth shut because I didn't

want to make a performance means nothing, master.

Other than I've kept my counsel for the things I could say.

Nothing to say?

That's what you sound like, missus.

Recorded for bloody posterity!

Sorry, Sam.

She can't make it.

Oh, well, never mind.

I just thought she might like a day out.

I didn't know you were here, as it happens.

She'll be touched by the thought, I'm sure.

Yeah.

I've got the lads in the car.

I'd better get off.

You going far?

Kiston.

I don't go far from home these days, except on business.

Too much of that these days, eh?

Maybe.

Look, Sam, I...

I know you're not entirely happy with these proposals of ours to split the

responsibility, but it's going to lighten the load for you, you know that, don't you?

That's why you're doing it, is it?

I'd say it was a major advantage.

What, give me a chance to train another bloke to step into me shoes?

Well, we've all got to do that sooner or later, Sam.

You've started, have you, Tony?

Well, no, not yet, perhaps.

Well, mind me, not you.

Good heaven, Sam.

We can get somebody to take over for me tomorrow.

But your relationship with the workforce...

takes a few years to develop something like that.

And you reckon I can pass it on?

To the right sort of chap, yes.

Don't you?

No.

Oh, come on, Sam.

There's nothing terribly difficult about it, is there?

What, er... changing another bloke into me, you mean?

No, no, not that exactly.

Perhaps a younger generation version of you.

Like Charlie Tripp?

I see a similarity.

You don't, I know.

No, I don't.

Well, I'm going to have to give him a chance...

with whoever we get to take over the other side of things.

You'll not object to that, surely?

Do you know what you are, Tony?

What's that thing our Tom's always saying?

You're a good mover.

A good mover, Tony.

Well, perhaps that's my function in life.

Aye, wouldn't mind to go along with it.

Somebody has to be in charge, Sam.

The alternative is anarchy.

Is that what you want?

Look, Tony.

I can show a fellow how to follow the book.

There's no problem there.

I can point to a man that turns out 50 units a day...

and I can say, if you doubled his wages, he'd turn out 100.

But he'd go home work-weary, deaf to his kids, blind to the sight of life.

I know because I've done it.

I know the difference between work that creates and work that destroys.

You know what I've got against Charlie?

Trip other things apart.

Production's become an end in itself to him, not a means.

His carrots are the same as yours, only little ones.

Yours are teck it or leave it.

His are teck it or else.

They're all a means to an end, Sam.

But I'm glad you prefer my carrots.

You reckon?

Look, tell Kat I couldn't wait.

I've got to get off.

What's your end, Sam?

What do you look to?

It's something I lost along the way, Tony.

Tony?

Hmm?

Wasn't that Sam?

Yes.

Why didn't you tell me he was here?

He wanted to drag you off to some tatty little place on the coast called Kiston.

Oh.

Don't worry, I got you out of it.

I told him we were going out.

Pity.

I could have done with a day at a tatty little place by the sea.

He promised me one a long time ago.

Day trip to Scarborough.

Never came off.

My God, it must be 20-odd years ago.

The memories you people have.

We people?

I'll make some coffee.

Look, you take Eileen and get off.

He'll not come.

You save yourself the argument.

Why won't he come?

He's writing his book, isn't he?

There's no stopping him.

His what?

Go and peep through that door there.

Go.

It were autumn, 1938.

The year before the war.

School had done naught for him and I had done less.

He were 14.

And life had naught to offer him but pit.

I'd failed him and his mother.

Failed, I had, I'd failed.

We went off across pit fields in first sharp cut of the morning.

His pit boots, new and stiff and slowing him.

So I'd to let on he were keeping to me pace.

And there were no to what he felt that showed.

Though I knew, for I'd done it at 12 before him.

An inter-cage beside me with daykins, borrowed doodly in his hand.

And a fraction before we dropped I felt him look up at me.

Look up.

And not to brace meself, not to look down.

Knowing I'd no answer to what had been written in his face.

So that he'd shout at me, here's this life.

He were his own man from then on.

What he had from me were all I'd got to give.

To be there.

To hold back but to be there.

Did he ever know I wonder what it cost.

To give and seem to give naught.

To take no credit.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Where have they all gone?

I've got a theory.

Do you want to tell me if I'm right?

Right.

I think you brought us out to tell us you're going to get married again.

Married?

To Cass, right?

You think that's funny, do you?

Oh, I don't think it's funny.

I think it's on the cards.

I was just trying to make it easier for you, that's all.

I know you don't rate our generation very highly but we do look at the facts.

Mum's dead, right?

You're not yet 50.

We don't expect you to live with a ghost.

But life's full of ghosts, Tom.

Mine is anyway.

Not mine.

One, maybe.

One and a half.

Half?

Half a father.

The bottom half.

The half that brought me into the world.

Left me to get on with it.

So, why the trip?

I'll tell you when we get there.

Nine out of ten that lived here worked at Pitt in them days.

Now it's less than half.

Calls done for.

Price, they say.

Price?

We're not worth what they've to pay us to get it, they say.

Who says so?

Economists and such.

Government.

Bloody call board.

Who's supposed to be doing this?

Me or they?

I know the price of coal.

I scrubbed a collier's back for 20 years.

You wanted the call board.

Aye.

Were you wrong then?

No.

It were them or the coal owners.

You remember what Machen said about folk that lived and worked in Skeleton?

I'll make them bleed, he said.

There's carrots and there's sticks.

I'm a carrot, mademoiselle, and what would you be?

Is that all the choice there is, then?

Take it or leave it.

Take it or else.

It's all I've known.

You know another, do you?

I knew you'd come back.

I don't like backing down when I'm in the rain.

I was right to talk to Sam.

You think so too?

It ended up stale, mate, like I said it would, didn't it?

I'm expected to change my politics so Sam and I can live in peace.

If I want to marry you, I mean.

You've not been asked to change anything.

You've been asked to come clean, that's all.

Not for Sam, for me, no.

You're only a step apart from me, politically.

It's a big step, Charlie.

And I'll never make it unless I close my eyes and step backwards.

You don't really belong to my generation.

You're more rooted in the past than Sam is.

That dusty old book with all the dusty old answers in it.

Dusty old words.

Bourgeoisie, proletariat reactionary.

The old Bible.

The word.

I can see the historical rightness of it.

I'd want to bring it up to date.

I'd be a revisionist and you wouldn't like that, would you, Charlie?

In your eyes, I would have sinned.

But I couldn't repent if I didn't believe you.

Maybe that's what I want.

The right to choose damnation.

That doesn't make sense.

To me, anyway.

No, not to you, maybe.

I wish you'd always be honest like that.

Honest?

Admit that it might make sense to me, and if it does, it matters.

There's something to do with tolerance.

How can I tolerate what I don't believe in?

Now you're back where you started.

Tolerate me?

You talk about not coming clean.

Maybe I've good reason.

Tolerate that.

Well, tell me what it is, then.

Maybe I don't want to close my eyes and take a step back, either.

Maybe something to do with that.

Having seen so many other people doing it, people who voted for socialism in 1964,

what did they get?

Economics?

Socialist economics.

You're missing the point again, Charlie.

What did you vote for, anyway?

I didn't have the vote.

If I'd had one, I would have voted for a fairer society.

For quality of life by means that didn't demean the ends.

You'd have found somebody to vote for, would you?

No.

You weren't around at the time.

Oh, now you're laughing at me.

It's true, in a way.

But your quality of life for me, Charlie... and politics apart...

you're what I want.

Come on, man.

You've not bought it.

No, no.

I told him I wanted to see it again before I made my mind up.

You're not going to, are you?

Oh, I shouldn't have.

Oh, it's nothing to do with me, I'm sure.

No, it's not.

It's your life.

Not mine.

Well, let's take the keys back, shall we?

What shall I do?

He's on the run.

From what?

All this women's lib stuff he reckons he believes in.

He's hoping we'll get men's lib in the process.

He's on the run from women.

He wants out.

Why did he bring Eileen in?

He called for Cass too.

He wanted to see our reaction.

He wants liberation by consent.

I think he's had it.

Don't you?

It's got nothing to do with you.

Nothing to do with me?

I was going to quietly arrange it all.

Oh, that's fine.

Wonderful.

Trust?

Sharing?

Sharing?

I'm the one having it, not you.

What, an immaculate conception?

It was an accidental one.

I don't understand.

I don't understand, Pat.

You're pregnant.

It's not a disease.

I don't understand your aversion to it.

You like life, don't you?

No, not always.

But mostly, yes?

Yes, I try to.

Because you're here.

There's not much point in doing anything else.

You make the best of it.

That's not good enough for me.

I've seen too much of it.

Too much of people making the best of a bad job.

Too much pointless existence.

Those two in there, bickering with each other, day in, day out.

What point is there in it?

That's a game they play.

Oh, Christ!

What do you know about it anyway, or about them?

Oh, you write your book from what Grandad puts down

on the tapes, and you think of yourself as an expert.

But what will you actually know about what they think?

But they can't say, because they haven't got the words.

No, you were making the best of a bad job when you married me, weren't you?

You're running away from what I'm saying.

I... I don't like that word you used in there.

You spent too much of your life looking down a microscope, Pat.

You're obsessed with the technology of life.

If you put us on a slide, you look at us and you expect us to...

to add up to some kind of order you call happiness, and if

the pattern's not there, then it's a disease called misery.

You can't accept that disorder as a way of

life, as may be the natural state of things.

You're damn right, dear.

I can't, and I won't.

Well, then, what...

What's up now?

What is it this time?

She's talking about having an abortion.

Hey, you bee-eyes.

Shut up, Grandad.

Shut up, Grandad.

That's it.

Shut up, Grandad.

Don't know about you two, but I'm about ready for off now I've had the big secret.

He'll not buy it, will he?

Why shouldn't he?

What about his work?

They can retire at 50, like he said.

They'll get a reduced pension, but then there'll be the money from the house.

What?

Live here on his own?

What about us?

Ah.

Well, now, there's the rub, as the poet said.

And what did he mean by that?

Where are we going?

Well, I'm good and ready.

Stop it.

Mind your own business, because you know you'll never make it, Sam.

Who says I won't?

I do.

You're saddled with the trappings of your generation, Sam.

A house that's too big for me.

A job that's gone sour on me.

More than that.

Obligations.

Responsibilities.

Habits of a lifetime, Sam.

Ah.

House.

Job.

Of course.

You can sell houses, you know.

You can ditch jobs.

You can't sell people.

You can ditch them.

But you're not the ditching type, are you?

Me, Chris, Deb.

We've got our own ways.

What about Grandad?

Eileen?

Ethel?

Cassie?

You can forget Cassie.

Cassie's made her own life.

She don't need me.

Eileen's worried already.

But she's got Ethel up the road.

What about Grandad?

He'll never make it, Sam.

I'm not going to bloody Australia, you know.

Why not?

Why here?

Well, you're so bloody clever, you tell me.

This way used to come for a couple of days when they

took the millstone from round your neck, isn't it?

You're a born provider, Sam.

I carry a cross for somebody else's crucifixion.

No glory, just slog.

How else do we survive?

I'm working on it.

You'll be a provider yourself soon.

Maybe.

You'll need that job at Crossman's.

I'll see to it before I leave.

Who said I needed it?

Get in, mate.

You're getting married, aren't you?

Yeah, I'm getting married.

I'm taking on somebody else's cast-off like you did.

Your mother was nobody's cast-off.

I meant me.

You'll need the job, then.

Job for the boy?

Ditching your principles as well, are you, Sam?

Oh, it do you.

You don't owe me anything.

I was another man's responsibility.

If you want to use the word.

Not yours.

Who brought me into this bloody life.

That's who owes me.

In your terms.

Aye, that's what I mean.

I'm back.

It's a lovely day.

You should have come with me.

That was Cass on the phone.

She says she wants to go to the funeral, but her car's in service.

She wondered if somebody could pick her up.

Well, I shall pick her up, I suppose.

Yeah.

Oh, no, you're picking Eileen up.

Well, I'll pick both of them up, won't I?

Are you ready?

Nearly, why?

Look, can you get the jalopy out, run round and pick up Eileen?

I don't know why she can't flaming well walk, but there it is.

I'll see to it.

Good lass.

Dad, you know what you told me last night about Tom and you and Mum?

Are you sure?

Well, it, er, it seems we're both sensitive to this drug called scoline.

He had a bad time when he had his up, that's why he had to have the blood test.

It's, er, it's something that's passed on.

The chances of him having it without it being passed on from me are thousands to one.

Yes, you told me all that.

I still don't...

You still don't, er, understand your mother sleeping around.

Isn't that what they say nowadays?

Is that what's worrying you?

I'm not worried.

I just wonder why she didn't know Tom was yours and not somebody else's.

I, er...

I caught her on the rebound.

Then she bounced back and married the other chap.

It happened in a matter of days or a long time ago.

Then that didn't work out, she came home and I took her out.

She thought I was being charitable.

Were you?

Er, you know, she used to say something to me.

She used to say, ''You've got a thing about women

that are on their knees, haven't you?'' Have you?

Well, as this picture comes into me head, when I was a lad, I'd have been about,

er... ten or so, I suppose.

Your grandmother was getting dressed up to go out with a chap called Alan Deakin

because me dad had left her with nothing in her life.

Don't easily take less from life than you're ready to give, Deb.

You mean more, don't you?

I mean both, Appen.

Well, I'm sure he said ten o'clock.

I told him you'd want me round here to help getting ready for everybody.

Everybody?

How many's coming?

Family?

What?

No one from the pits of the council?

Not to my knowledge.

Well, there'll be nothing to keep Sam now.

Now Jack's gone.

Keep him?

Round here, I mean.

He'll probably buy that cottage he took us to see.

Oh, why shouldn't he?

Well, I wish I could have retired at 50.

She'll come out at 50 nowadays and he's sought a job.

Never mind retirement.

Appen needs going before he gets kicked out.

From Crossman's?

Oh, he could stay there as long as he liked.

Afraid of something, are you?

Afraid?

They've all gone now, the men.

All except Sam.

Afraid you'll be left on your own, are you?

I was brought up in a house full of lads.

You get used to the noise.

I've missed it all my life, the sound of a family.

I've always wanted kids.

Not everybody does.

Oh, it's not natural not to, not for a woman.

It's not supposed to be natural these days.

It appears there's too many of us.

She's getting at me in case she didn't guess.

I'm pregnant.

Oh, Pat!

Oh, love!

She's pregnant and wishes she wasn't.

Oh, Pat, love.

You don't.

Surely not.

My God!

You women and your primitive obsession with birth!

Why?

To perpetuate the species?

Well, you can forget about that one.

There are nearly 60 million of us on an island

that can't comfortably carry half that number.

And do you know why we're here?

Because you lot allowed yourselves to be used like

battery hens to increase the annual economic growth rate.

Factory fodder!

And one day, they're going to all turn up

for work and find that we've run out of food.

And, my God, won't they bless your fertility then?

It's not life you venerate.

It's production.

Well, I say no.

No, no, no!

I'm sorry about that.

Not to want kids.

Oh, but she does.

More than anything.

She told me just now.

She's going to have it then, is she?

No, I think not.

I suppose you've heard that Tony's back in his flat.

No, no, I haven't.

We had a row last weekend after you called to see if I'd like to go to Kiston.

It was about us, actually.

About us?

You.

Me.

Practically anybody born and brought up in the area and still living in it.

We were accused of having a narrow provincial outlook.

It seems that we lack initiative or we'd have got out.

What about Tony?

Why is he still here?

Oh, I don't think he will be here much longer.

Nothing he said.

I thought so for some time, just an instinct.

I wondered what I'd do if he left and asked me to go with him.

Six months ago, I wouldn't have had any doubts.

Six months ago, he probably would have asked me.

But I don't think so now.

You know, we were going to be married.

Well, nothing's been said, but it's obviously off.

Don't look at me like that.

I'm not going to burst into tears.

No.

I think, in a way, I'm glad.

I think.

Yes, I think so.

What makes you think he'll go?

What he wants isn't here.

I don't think it is.

Not that I know what he wants, do you?

Why?

To be a big fish in a big pond.

It's always been too small for him round here, I reckon.

Bigger means better, as far as Tony's concerned.

And you?

Well, I only took the job on for Sarah.

You know I did.

Well, mostly, anyway.

He might be right about what I am, but I know the chaps I work with.

He doesn't.

They're just a means to an end, as far as Tony's concerned.

That's why he likes Charlie.

Charlie worships the state, and Tony worships profit.

Power, Cass.

Control of the means of production.

Production's the new god these days, you know.

It's become an end, not a means.

The cart's before the horse, and the horse doesn't even know where it's going.

That's what our Pat called me once.

A cart horse for crossmans.

You?

I'm a cart horse for nobody, I said.

Offended.

Well, I was wrong both ways.

Everybody that works is a cart horse.

It's when you have to work for those that want or don't have to that you mind.

It's called exploitation, Cass.

You feel exploited?

Oh, yeah, sometimes.

Sometimes I do.

Not just be crossmans, either.

By who?

By me own kind, Cass.

By me own kind.

When we shut apart this life, we may rest in him.

As our hope is, this our brother does.

And that of the general resurrection in the last day... You've never done.

They grow up, get wed, have kids.

You've never done.

Well, there's somebody to provide for.

Aye.

And when their bellies are full and they've forgot what it costs to fill them.

..

and they don't have to scrap no more... What then?

What then, mate?

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love

of God and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost...

be with us all evermore.

Amen.

That's it, then?

I think so.

Not many here.

Nobody remembered him.

We should remember him.

It was before your time.

The old house was for sale when we passed.

Let's go and have a look at it.

Going to get Charlie to buy it for you, eh?

Fat chance.

You've to breed for the future.

You get no for today.

You know what you're after, but you know you're not likely to see it in your time.

It's a big effort for something you're likely never to see...

when there's no for you at the end of it.

Remember when we moved?

You vanished when all the furniture had gone.

Mum thought you were very upset.

I hid in the glory hole.

It's like the end of the world.

That's how I felt when they left me at that school.

If you knew how I envied you two staying at home.

You were the privileged one.

She explained to us that you were special.

God, I felt deprived, not privileged.

I thought it was something to do with my old man not being around.

And there he was all the time.

Yeah.

You look about the same in spite of your blood transfusion.

What should I do?

Wear flowers in my hair?

Of course I'm the same.

What the hell difference does it make?

Except that I've lost my saviour.

Saviour?

That's what I used to call him.

Alice.

My departed dad.

Somebody who'd turn up one day and put my little world to rights.

When they're dead, they're dead.

But when they just turn their backs, they're dead but they... they won't lie down.

You wait for the second coming.

For the everlasting arms.

When's the wedding?

Oh, eventually.

Got a few battles ahead of you, you know.

Not me.

You can just pick up the pieces, will you?

Something like that.

Thanks

for coming, Charlie.

None of his old union turned up.

Or the party.

Or the council.

It was household word round here once upon a time.

He fought for this place.

He raged against bosses the like of which you've never known.

The sort that turned good gentle blokes like your dad to look for any road out.

He paid for his principals with years out of work.

He was the sort that kept the unions going with pennies they could have bought bread.

So you keep at it, Charlie.

Pull your guts out.

Give your life to it.

Don't expect any thanks, that's all.

He fought the bosses, you said.

You think I need thanks to follow him there?

Oh, all sorts of bosses, Charlie.

The kind you'd land us with as well.

He was free to fight them as I am up to now.

And will, Charlie, and will.

That's a promise, is it?

I'm in the tradition, so are you.

These two aren't, so they'll be watching us, Charlie.

Too true, we will.

Come on, you.

I'll see you back at the house.

All right.

Wonder how much of that lot he's shoveled in his time.

I'm going away, dad.

After you get married, you mean?

Before, probably.

Where to?

Norway.

Go on.

Vicky's got a job there.

Same firm.

They have an office in Oslo.

I told her a lot about it.

About the time we were there with mum.

It's not Utopia, you know.

Remember what your grandad said when we were there.

Ten times if you said it once.

There must be a bloody drawback somewhere.

And what are you going to do in Norway?

Change nappies.

Wash dishes.

Find a place for myself.

If they'll have me.

You're your own generation, Tom.

I used to want to travel light.

They taught me to stop in here.

Need a clever tongue on him.

And a wicked one at times.

There are dead men and women in your head, he said, that'll never lie still.

They're part of you till the day you die.

Ghosts.

Aye, ghosts.

I'll be glad if he's ghosting me for what's to come.

If we don't unite, if we don't close the ranks, then God help the future.

And the future's all we've got to gain, you and me, that's without.

Not our future, oh no.

There's little enough of what we want for ourselves that we shall get in this life.

But we've had it better than what us fathers had, poor sods.

We shall die in the muck we've lived and worked in.

We shall die in a war that's been waged since before we was born.

It's others that shall reap what we sowed, that shall stand on our shoulders,

as we stood on the shoulders of them that stood fast before us.

Oh, are we not the men whose fathers we're?

Go Bates!

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