All language subtitles for How.to.Get.to.Heaven.From.Belfast.S01E06.1080p.WEB.h264-ETHEL[EZTVx.to]_Track04

You killed him.

He didn't do anything wrong.

He was a good person.

Why?

Why did you do it?

Stop talking.

-Yeah, Saoirse. Pipe down.
-She has a gun.

I always run out of duct tape
when I need it most.

-I don't care.
-Well, I do, Billy Big Balls.

-Right, where is it?
-The Dictaphone?

-So you did open the box?
-Lucky guess.

-Did you listen to it?
-No. That was the truth that time.

Right.

Tell me where it is,
or I'll start putting bullets in people.

-I gave it to Liam.
-Who's Liam?

-The man you killed last night.
-The cop?

Did you kill more than one man last night?

How do you know him?

We don't, really. We met him in Knockdara.

-He's from Knockdara?
-Yeah. Yeah.

What's going on?

Is she leaving?

Has she gone?

I think so.

-We should escape.
-What a brilliant idea.

-How?
-I haven't worked that bit out yet.

It's my fault he's dead, isn't it?

Because I was obsessed with finding Greta.

Poof! Greta evaporates.
And now you're Gráinne Marsh.

Maiden name, Breslin.

Originally from Tyrone.

Moved to Dublin as a kid.
Daddy got a better job.

Blah, blah, blah.

Uni in London.
Let's see what your degree is in, babes.

Classics! Good for you, Gráinne.

What's wrong? Is it the vape?

-No. It's not… the vape.
-The smell?

Is it the precautionary gun?

-Is it killing the vibe?
-Sort of.

It's just precautionary.

That's why we call it
the precautionary gun.

You won't even have to touch it.
It's for the midwife.

-Why will she need it?
-She…

She won't, babes.

You really need to look up
the meaning of "precautionary."

You've a degree in classics,
for Chrissake.

Why might she need it?

We had this one incident.

Once. One time.

What sort of incident?

We were looking after this woman,
and she contacts her ex.

An abusive prick.

Unbelievably dumb, considering
he's the reason we had to evaporate her.

Anyway, he tracks her down.

So the midwife… had to sort of
shoot him through the head a bit.

It was quite the fucking hoo-ha,
let me tell you, babes.

When will she be here,
this midwife person?

Soon.

Have to warn you, she's a dickhead,
but she's good at her job.

I might give her a call, actually.

You're almost there, babes.

Then, what it is you're running from,

will all just be something
that happened in somebody else's life.

19th April 2003.

At last. I finally made him see sense.

He finally listened.

He's left town. I'm so happy.

Jason Meadows will trouble me no more.

Shit.

Disco dancing
With the lights down low…

I'm late.

Late, are you, Greta, pet?

-I am, Aggie. Yeah.
-Nightmare. Late, is she, Margo?

-Yes.
-Bye.

Of course, his name
isn't really Jason Meadows.

I felt guilty
lying to the others about that.

I'm definitely gonna do English lit.
I'm gonna be a playwright.

You know, like Brian Friel,
or Arthur Miller, or--

I know what a playwright is, Miss Shaw.

I needed a story
they'd understand, so he became

the obsessive, jealous boyfriend.

I thought maybe a vet,
but I have this thing about cows.

-I don't trust 'em.
-Jesus Christ.

-Sister!
-I was praying.

They'd never understand the truth.
I barely understand the truth.

Can you do an A level in chatting?

What?

Like, could I be a… conversationalist?

-Is that a thing?
-No.

Sound of the underground

The beat of the drum goes round
And around…

But that doesn't matter. It's over.

I'm somebody else now.

I don't hide from the bogeymen these days.

Come in.

I tell them
to fuck off and leave me alone.

What the hell are you smiling at?
You're late.

Sorry, Sister.

The truth is, I don't think
I ever really thought about it.

University, I mean.

I'm very hesitant to say this,

considering the sheer amount
of eyeliner you're wearing,

but you're bright, Greta.

Look at me, please.

You decide what happens now. Only you.

Shit, sorry. You and God.

I always forget
to include God in this stuff,

and I'm really supposed to
because of the whole…

-Nun thing?
-Yeah.

You can do anything you want to do.

Be anyone you want to be, Greta.

I need to talk to Inspector O'Neill.

-Let me ask if he can see you.
-He can see me.

-Booker.
-Sit.

I said sit.

I need you to listen.

We don't have a lot of time.
One of your guards, Liam…

-Liam Kells.
-He's dead.

What? How?

I shot him. I had no choice.

He was escorting those women, the ones
you assured me wouldn't be a problem.

But they had the box, and they opened it,
so they know what's inside.

-Hold on--
-We don't have time for that.

So I don't know if they've listened to it
or talked to anyone.

I'm gonna keep them alive
until I've figured that out.

-Where is it?
-That's the more pressing matter.

They gave it to Liam.

They're saying that it was
on his person when he died.

Jesus Christ.

I need you to speak to the station
in Dublin, find out where the body is,

and tell them that someone
will be along to pick up his belongings.

There's a good boy.

Hello. Pearse Street Garda Station.

Oh, hello. Inspector O'Neill here
from Knockdara police station, Donegal.

One of my guards,
Liam Kells, was involved in a--

-Garda Kells?
-Garda Kells, that's correct, yes.

Lucky.

Lucky?

Well, apart from the broken rib.

The impact, you know.

-I don't understand.
-It stopped the bleeding bullet.

Like something out of a film.

I'm Bosco, by the way.

And Bosco the saint, before you start.
Me ma didn't name me after a puppet.

Can I see that?

See, now, I'm wondering if we
actually should be touching this stuff.

It wouldn't be evidence, would it?
I know the guards wanna speak to you.

I am a guard.

Yeah, there is that.

Right. Well, I'll be back
in a mo to check your vitals.

You stay out of trouble, handsome, yeah?

One, two, three, and go!

-Are we going on "three" or "go"?
-We're going on "go," Dara.

Why wouldn't we go on "go"?

What are we trying
to achieve here, exactly?

There might be something that'll
help us free ourselves, like a knife.

Oh yeah, I'm sure she's gonna leave
a knife lying around.

Would you try and be a bit more positive?

Come on, Saoirse.
She could come back any minute.

-And?
-She's gonna kill us.

-I don't care anymore.
-Well, I do.

I've got three kids who depend on me.
So get fucking shuffling, all right?

Fine.

Right. One, two, three, and go!

One, two, three, go!

One, two, three, and go!

Put your arse into it.

One, two, three, and go!

And go!

And go!

Go! And stop!

It's just all our stuff.

Wait a minute.

Were those red envelopes
in your bag, Saoirse?

They're exactly
like the ones Greta sent us.

It was you.

You did it.

I didn't do anything. Not really.

It was your idea, Saoirse.

You were the one
who told me I had to confront him.

What actually happened?

So, Jason Meadows was just there again,
watching her, and Greta--

Yeah. I just sort of marched right over
and told him it was over between us.

Then I told him
to piss off and leave me alone.

And he did.

-He was too old for you, anyway.
-And what's it been now? Like a week?

Uh, ten days.

I have even more good news.

You know Declan Ryan
from the boys' school?

-Well, his ma and da are away.
-So?

Which means he has a free house.

Which means he's having a fucking party!

Oh my God. A party. Like America.

And Declan Ryan's cousin, David Ryan,

aka the massive ride from my bus stop,
will also be there.

Let's just skip PE and make a plan.

We've a lot to do before tonight, girls.

Where the hell is Dara?

If you see me walking down the street

Starin' at the sky…

You're fucking adorable, Dara.

And you know it.

So, do you wanna go to the party?

Oh. Yeah, sure.

Like, together?

Well, yeah.

I mean, if both of us are going,

we'll be there together,

and that'll be class.

You're never gonna tell people about us.

-I already have told--
-Saoirse and Robyn aren't people.

I've also told Greta.

-Who? Weird transfer girl?
-Actually, she's not weird.

And she transferred here
like two years ago.

So maybe we should
call her something else now.

You're not gonna go to hell
for being gay, Dara.

It's 2003. It's not like the olden times.

I like what we're doing now.

-Riding in a bog?
-We weren't riding.

-Will we be riding?
-Not now, we won't.

-We need alcohol, obviously.
-Don't look at me.

We've already watered down
our entire drinks cabinet.

My ma's so gonna realize.

It's only a matter of time.

So, what about drugs?

What about them?

Should we be doing drugs by now?

My da still has some codeine
from when he put his back out.

Oh my God. Greta, did you do this?

Like our tattoos.

This is such a good idea.

We should totally
start making this place our own.

Nobody else ever uses it.

I could write here.

-I could ride David Ryan here.
-When did you do this, Greta?

Greta?

I need to go back.
There's… There's something I forgot.

Hi.

Bye.

What's wrong with her?

Perhaps now you'd like to talk?

Tape 113.

Belfast. Morning.

Still no movement.

19th April 2003.

So, she's agreed to a meeting.

The sorrowful woman has a cottage.

Okay, miracle man.
Your friends are on their way.

-Me friends?
-The filth.

I mean the guards.

That was a joke. It's probably not funny
if you are actually the filth.

A… A guard. Sorry.

Just been on a night shift.

It's fine.

Now, we will need
to scan you first, okay? So let's go.

No. You can't take
your lucky charm with you, I'm afraid.

I don't think anyone's gonna swipe it,
chicken. Don't worry.

It's not an iPad.

I'll look after it for you, will I?

Let's go, handsome.

-Is it really her?
-Mm-hmm.

She's very keen to speak to you.

We can't. That was a condition.

We'll be discreet.

Showing up at school
and painting that thing on the wall,

that's discreet, is it?

Well, that was her idea.

Well, it's fucked up.

If that symbol's so disturbing to you,
why do you mark yourself with it?

I wanted to change its meaning.

Associate it with something new,
something positive.

I have friends now.
I have a whole new life now.

Well, I think that's why she's so upset.

-The difference.
-What?

Wait. You don't know what happened to her?

Afterwards.

You don't know what they did?

Dearly beloved,

we gather here today
for the funeral mass of Father O'Brien,

a man of God who devoted his life
to the teachings of Christ.

A religious education teacher…

This is brilliant, isn't it?

-It's a funeral, Robyn.
-I know, but we're missing double maths.

Where the hell did Greta go?

After the service,

we'll take Father O'Brien
to his final resting place

in the school cemetery.

-What's that about?
-Father O'Brien was…

Whatever you've done, fix it.
She's way out of your league.

She's playing a different sport.

She wants me to, like, tell everyone.

-So?
-I dunno. My mum and stuff. Like…

-She wouldn't think it's right.
-You don't think it's right.

The Catholic Church
has such a choke hold on you, Dara.

That's simply not true.

Please kneel.

I'll be back in a minute.

Oh, Jesus,

through the immaculate heart of Mary,
I offer you my prayers…

What the fuck?

There was something wrong.
You wanted to give up. I knew we couldn't.

I knew there was more to all this.

Like, those emails were so strange,
and I knew it wasn't her in the coffin.

I thought if I could convince you.

I thought if, you know,
if I could make you see this like I did…

So I sent you the letters.

I… I can't believe
I'm hearing this, Saoirse.

I just wanted to get to the truth.

For all of us.

Oh, that's okay, then.

It's not, and I know that now.

Everything's just
make-believe to you, isn't it?

What?

Do you think we're just characters
you made up in your head?

Of course not.

Everything's just material.

Everything's just a story.

You're like one of those…

One of those weirdos in the mud.

What, mudlarkers?

Yeah. You're a mudlarker.

Scavenging around in other people's lives

for the bits
you find shiny or interesting.

And you fawn over them

'cause you're so unhappy
in your own fucking life.

Don't pretend like you haven't loved
every minute of it, Dara.

What part of this have I loved?

Oh, don't pretend like
it hasn't shaken you up a bit.

Like you haven't been
bored fucking senseless, Dara.

Your world has been kept
so small and so safe.

My world is small, is it?

You couldn't tell Niamh how you felt.
Look how that turned out.

-Saoirse.
-It's true. Why take the risk?

She was only gonna hurt you eventually.
Isn't that right, Dara?

Oh, because your relationship
is so perfect.

Is that why you were flirting
with that poor lad?

Girls, come on, now.

You dragged him into all this shit,
and now he's dead.

-Dear Jesus.
-Fuck you!

No, fuck you!
Who the hell do you think you are?

You both need to calm down, okay?

Because if I'm expected to mediate here,
then we're fucked.

-You're nobody!
-John Hume, I am not.

You're just a stupid TV screen scripter!

Oh my God, Dara.

Oh God.

Ow!

Yeah, you did deserve that, though.

There he is.
The, uh, inspector's arrived now.

And she wanted everything
that they found with you at the scene.

-The box?
-Mm-hmm.

Don't worry. I already gave it to her.

Where is she? What did she look like?

She was one of them, what do you call it?
The non-uniform ones.

-Plainclothes?
-Mm-hm. She's in the room waiting for you.

Uh, careful. Slow down.

Shit.

Sorry.

Shit.

"I saw."

In the Irish, in a sentence. Miss O'Casey.

Uh…

"I saw the sea." Correct, if uninspiring.

So, listen. Big Mandy will go
to the offie for us if we pay her a fiver.

-A fiver?
-Don't start, Dara.

Sorry, Sister. I forgot something.
I had to run home.

Let's see.

"I would. I would like."

In a sentence, please, Miss Heaney.

From Belfast?

Good luck.

Sit down, Greta.

"I heard."

-What did you say?
-"I started."

-"I'd like to get to Heaven."
-"I went."

"I finished."

Help!

Help!

-Why is nobody on a walk?
-Should we try the door again?

What? in case it's
magically un-fucking-bolted itself?

Psycho features disconnected all that.

Look at this.

-"Metamorphosis"?
-What is it, a hairdressers?

That bitch doesn't have a hairdresser.
State of those dead ends.

-Is there something on that pad?
-Give us that pencil.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

This is Greta's writing.

-Are you sure?
-I'm sure.

It's a number.

What is that? is that… Is that Irish?

It feels familiar.

So Greta was here?

She was probably held here like us.

Yeah, well, not exactly like us.

-What do you mean?
-This would suggest she'd more freedom.

You know, every time we talk
about what might be going on here,

it's like Greta's been dragged
into something beyond her control.

What if she's the one in control?

Maybe she told that psycho
to bring us here.

-Why?
-Because we know too much.

Because we're too close to something.

And she's good at getting other people
to do her dirty work for her.

Separate but inseparable, just like us.

That night changed everything for us.

We buried a fucking body for her.

We… We lowered that man into the ground.

The ropes!

We used ropes that night.
They were in the cabin.

That's how we did it.
That's how we got him down there.

Ropes!

Yo! Bingo! Ha!

There's no way
my arse is fitting through that thing.

How did it go with Sister Patrick?

Good. Uh, she thinks
I should apply for university.

And she's quite right. You should.

Perhaps I could study psychiatry like you.

I think you'd be brilliant.

I'd have to take the Hippocratic oath.

That's right.

Did you?

Of course.

But doesn't it say you can't have
a relationship with a patient?

Hypocrite.

With a Hippocratic oath.

That's a very amusing
play on words, Greta.

You always were a clever girl.

Is that right?

Your circumstances were exceptional.

And I gave up my career to look after you.

Oh, did you save me, Margo?

We saved each other.

How's the book going?

The book will help people.

Help people understand.

What, girls like me?

What about girls like her?

That's right, Margo.
I'd like to talk about her.

You had to be separated.
For both your sakes.

-What happened to her?
-Listen to me, Greta.

If you're on a sinking ship
and there's an island ahead,

what do you do?

You jump off the ship
and swim to the island.

I want to know what happened to her.

You are on the island, Greta.

You're safe.

You don't swim
back to the boat to examine it.

If there's someone
clinging to the wreckage, you do.

You should try to eat something.

You guys have a long journey ahead.

I'm, um, just not that hungry.

Maybe it's the nerves.
Do you need a nervy poo?

It might help.

There is nothing to be nervous about.

And I'll be
with you every step of the way.

Look, she's an experienced midwife.

And it's important to remember
that this is what we do, babes.

And we're really good at it.
We're professionals.

-I'll clear up.
-What happens to the information?

-What's that, babes?
-My information.

You said that you put it into a system.

Before we move you on,

we need to know everything
about the person you once were.

That tells us what to avoid,
where to avoid, who to avoid.

-And when you've done that?
-We destroy all the records.

Greta Heaney is dead.

And any trace of her existence disappears.

Just like that.

Evaporation, baby.

This is getting insane.

-We must be getting close to something.
-Mm.

Saoirse and the others,
you think they're involved?

Whatever this is,
they're in it up to their neck.

Now I understand
the need for all the secrecy.

The whole Midnight Cowboy vibe.

Have you ever seen Midnight Cowboy?

-No.
-Right.

Because this definitely isn't the vibe.

Like, at all.

Why would someone try and kill you?

Uh, I had something she wanted.

A tape.

-A recording.
-Of what?

Your father.

-My father?
-I only listened to a second of it.

Someone stole it
from the fucking hospital.

-This whole thing is so messed up.
-What… What did you hear?

He was making a note.

-It was 19th April.
-19th April 2003.

-Finally, a meeting.
-Mentioned a meeting.

Says, "The sorrowful woman has a cottage."

The, er… the caretaker's place
on the grounds of the school.

-That was all I got.
-Right. I've been looking into the school.

The headmistress now
was the headmistress then.

She might know something.

We have to be careful here.

Yeah.

I just really need to know
what happened to my father that night.

-She didn't come?
-No.

She came.

He said you go by Jodie now.

He said you go by Greta.

Let's sit.

Thank you.

Wants some part of you

Something kinda ooh

Makes my heart go boom, boom

Something 'side of me
Wanting what you do, ooh

Something kinda ooh…

Where the fuck is Dara?
She has our clothes.

We should've worn our clothes.

You think my ma's gonna let me leave
in that skirt? It barely covers my hole.

Finally.

-Hand them over.
-Hand what over?

-The clothes.
-Greta has them.

-Is she not here?
-I thought she was coming with you.

-She'd already left when I called to hers.
-Oh my God. This is mortifying.

-I don't think she's coming.
-She has to come. She has the clothes.

I saw her with Jason Meadows earlier.

I think she's gone to meet him.
I think that's where she is.

I'm worried, girls. I don't trust him.

Sorry for the wait.

No problem at all. Thanks for, er…

Right.

This isn't about
the dinner lady again, is it?

No.

Oh, thank God.

We're here to ask questions
about a couple of past pupils.

Saoirse Shaw, Robyn O'Casey,

Dara Friel, Greta Heaney.

They were here in 2003.

-Saoirse Shaw. The writer.
-That's the one.

Well, I don't watch it, Murder Code.

But I will say that the storyline
of episode four, series two,

had a striking resemblance

to a short story
that I myself had published

in the local paper that year.

-Right.
-But like I say, I don't watch it.

We're looking into
a connection between these girls

and a man named Charles Sampson.

I can't say that rings a bell.

He was an investigative journalist
from Liverpool.

I remember him.
He offered me money for Greta's file.

-Greta Heaney.
-Did you?

Indeed, I did not.

I didn't like it.

A grown man like him
sniffing around a young girl.

He was a well-respected journalist.

And well-respected journalists
often bribe teachers to provide them

with confidential information
about minors in their care, do they?

This would have been 2003,
when he came here?

Yes.

Might it have been 19th April
when you spoke to him?

Definitely not.

I remember that date because that was
my colleague Father O'Brien's funeral.

Have you any idea
what Charles was looking for in the files?

None. I mean, Greta was clearly troubled.

She was very vulnerable.

I don't know what happened to her,
but something did.

She always seemed sort of…

What?

Haunted.

What became of her?

She passed away recently, I'm afraid.

Do you still have it?

I'm sorry?

Her file.

Right, come on. Come on to fuck.

Jesus!

-Don't look!
-How can I not look?

Come on!

Jesus.

-Jesus. Jesus.
-Come on.

That's it. Hurry up.

-Jesus. Oh, Jesus.
-That's it. There we go.

Oof.

You all right?

-Oh, I don't think so.
-Good stuff.

-Caille Neamh.
-Come on, Saoirse!

-Jesus Christ.
-Come on, Saoirse. Hurry up.

-Please get a move on!
-Come on. Shift it, Saoirse!

"…would like to get to Heaven."

-I've got it! Neamh means Heaven.
-What?

I just remembered
something Greta said years ago.

-This must mean Heaven's Veil.
-Heaven's Veil is a place?

Oh, hurry up, girls,
before trigger-happy gets back!

Good point. Shift it, Saoirse!

If I fall, will you catch me?

Of course! Like fuck I will.

Sweet, gentle Jesus.

Oh, oh! Hello! Excuse me!

Excuse me! Um…

-Do you have a phone?
-Huh?

A mobile phone.
Do you have a mobile phone?

Of course I have a mobile phone!

You think we don't got
mobile phones in Donegal, is that it?

Typical bloody patronizing Belfast people.

Can I use it?

Well, I don't have it with me.

Robyn, look.

-What's wrong? What's she doing?
-She's stuck.

I'm stuck.

I told you my arse
wouldn't fit through this fecking thing!

-Well, just angle it a bit.
-Well, she's tried that.

-I tried that.
-I had no idea it was that big.

No, it's very deceptive. Deceiving.

-Deceptive?
-I'd ring the fire brigade if I were you.

On what?

Here it is.

We can destroy old documents
after a certain period,

but… I always felt weird about that.

Sister Thomas thinks
I have a hoarding problem.

But, I mean, she's got
a "being a massive arsehole" problem.

So, we all have our crosses to bear.

Should be in here somewhere.

"Heart. Heaney."

"Heaney."

"Greta Heaney."

You can read it here.

I'll wait outside.

Um… she's got that wrong.

My father
wouldn't have blackmailed anyone.

-Let's just have a look.
-Of course. Yeah.

What does it say?

Uh…

What?

-It's empty.
-No, that's…

"Greta Heaney."

"Nora O'Hara"?

Sorry this is taking so long.

I've never made blancmange.

She's fucking unhinged.

I read the files.

I know you did.

When I had to leave my daughter,
I thought about you again.

I actually felt sorry for you.

I mean, you weren't perfect. Far from it.

But I thought how hard it must have been
for you to walk away from me back then.

-Easiest thing in the world.
-You sold me.

You did it for the money.

You were rotten inside.

Still are.

Heaven's Veil infected you.

That's her. The midwife's here.

You're not really here.

-You're dead.
-Am I?

You must be by now.

And you're just desperate
to find out, aren't you?

So why don't you?

You know where I am.
You remember the number.

You wrote it down.

Hi. I… I was just…

I… I wanted to check
on the status of my mother, Nora O'Hara.

Yes, I can wait.

Well, you've given yourself
away now, haven't you?

Now someone knows you're alive.

You'll never escape it.
You can't run away from what you are.

Gráinne!

Well, you seem
to have a pretty good life here.

-I don't know what you want me to say.
-They locked me away.

He told me.

Like I was fucking contagious.

-I'm sorry.
-Are you?

Really. I… I had no idea.

Did you ever ask?

Jodie feels that she's ready
to talk about Heaven's Veil.

-That's insane.
-Well, I am insane.

Obviously, it would be better
if you got involved.

No, I told you I can't do that.
I won't do that.

No, it would be handled
very delicately, Greta.

I wouldn't reveal
any details about your new lives,

your identities.

You'd be very safe.

Not as safe as if we didn't talk
to a fucking journalist.

I can't believe you're being so stupid.

Nobody ever listened to my side of things.

There is no your side of things.

Or my side of things.
There's just what happened.

And it's awful, but it happened.
And it's over, and we can't change it.

I want to tell my story.

Your story is my story, though.
You'll ruin everything.

-That's not fair.
-Fair?

I'm sorry.

You were able to move on,

to put it behind you.

To lock me in a box like a doll
you don't want to play with anymore.

But I couldn't.

I am still there,
in that place, on that night.

There's no escape.

I still have the scars all over my body.

And every time I close my eyes,
I see this fucking thing.

-Me too.
-I don't believe you.

I didn't forget you.

Look at this.

I did this so I wouldn't.

So I couldn't.

I kept you with me.

Well, all this has certainly taught you
how to manipulate a situation.

What does he mean?

You wanna talk about
someone manipulating a situation?

You're a fucking journalist.

You're a grown man
intimidating two vulnerable girls.

-I'm on your side here.
-Really?

What they did was
a horrific social experiment.

-Please leave us alone.
-I'm sorry, but people need to know.

I just feel like

if I don't say it out loud,

or if I don't get the words out,

then they'll choke me.

I understand.

I do.

But I'm the only one who can.

Sorry, what's this?

Because what happened, it bonds us.

Greta, what?

Forever.

I had help. I've been lucky.

But now I can help you.

I can't be helped.

I'm broken.

It's… broken me.

Broken girls can be fixed.

I've been fixed.

We can fix you.

Together.

But…

he needs to leave.

Okay. Um…

What are you saying?

We need to be able to speak the truth.

You and me.

If he's here, it becomes a lie.

A performance.

I can help you.

But he needs to leave.

I need to think.

What did she say to you?

She needs to think.

Perhaps you should go.

I knew it.

That's her bike.

I'm giving you a chance here, both of you.

A chance to control the narrative.

She wants you to leave.

No. You're making a mistake.

Get out.

-Jodie.
-Leave.

Hey, that's…

-Give me that.
-Yeah, I was about to.

Now, come on.

Oh my God.

What is that?

Greta.

You were recording us.

-Did you know?
-Of course I didn't know.

Give it to me.

Yeah, fuck you!

This is bigger than you.

Give it to me.

Right!

Go on. Give it to me.

Give it back to me.
Stop fucking about, Greta.

Greta!

-Greta!
-Greta!

Let go. Right now.

Give it to me.

Come on, Greta.

Oh God.

Let go of her!

I didn't mean to.

-I just wanted him to get off of you.
-Is he breathing?

Is he still breathing?

Get him to stop. Tell him to stop.

Tell him to stop!

No, you're… No.

I'm so… I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry. I'm so…

I'm so sorry.

Is he dead?

Have I killed him?

It's okay.

How?

How is it okay?

-Where did you get the knife?
-What?

The knife.

It was just there.
It was just there on the table. I…

Greta!

-What the hell?
-What?

Someone's coming.

What are we gonna do?

I can deal with them. You need to leave.

You need to leave now.

Take this. Destroy it, okay?

Tell no one, okay?
You were never here. I was never here.

Go through the back way,
through the window. They won't see you.

I'm sorry.

Are you there?

I'm sorry too.
About everything that happened.

Go. Go!

Greta!

Greta, we're coming!

I just remember feeling it in my hand.

And I remember thinking I had one chance.

So I took it.

We have to go to the police.

No. They won't believe me.

He was harassing you.
Watching you, stalking you.

And he attacked you. It was self-defense.

-They won't believe her.
-What?

She'd been dating him.
She met him here voluntarily.

-It wasn't her fault, Saoirse.
-This is Northern Ireland.

If a woman is raped, gets pregnant,
discovers having that baby will kill her,

that woman has two choices.

Has the baby and dies,

or finds a way to abort
that pregnancy and goes to fucking jail.

What chance does she have?

We'll help you.

I don't believe it.

Maybe it's just a shower.

Maybe it'll stop soon.

-Time for plan B, then.
-What's plan B?

We bury him.

Should I say a prayer?

For him or for us?

What now?

We get ourselves cleaned up.
We can change at the party.

-We can't go back to the party.
-We have to.

All four of us, we have to go back
to the party just in case…

In case what?

In case someone asks us where we were.

It's stopped raining.

Only time won’t take you anywhere

We should pretend to have fun.

It just goes through you like a ghost

And only half of this is everything…

Things will never be the same.

They'll never forget
what happened tonight.

No matter how much they want to.

They'll be pulled back.

Dragged back.

Haunted by it forever.

I know how these things go.

I really believed
I could become somebody else.

But maybe I'll never be able to move on.

If I can't run away from who I really am,

maybe it's time to run towards it.

So we won't get far

And I don’t wanna go to you

But I need to go

As I say, I've never made
blancmange before. Could go either way.

-I need to look at her notes.
-Sure thing, babes.

They're all on the system.

Shit.

All the things she said
All the things she said

Running through my head
Running through my head

Running through my head

All the things she said
All the things she said

Running through my head
Running through my head

All the things she said

-This is not enough
-Enough, enough

Enough

I'm in serious shh
I feel totally lost

If I'm asking for help
It's only because

Being with you has opened my eyes

Could I ever believe
Such a perfect surprise?

I keep asking myself, wondering how

I keep closing my eyes
But I can't block you out

Want to fly to a place
Where it's just you and me

Nobody else, so we can be free

Nobody else, so we can be free

All the things she said
All the things she said

Running through my head
Running through my head

Running through my head

All the things she said
All the things she said

Running through my head
Running through my head

All the things she said

This is not enough

This is not enough

All the things she said
All the things she said

And I'm all mixed up
Feeling cornered and rushed