All language subtitles for Patrick Melrose - 01x05 - At Last.DEFLATE.English.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

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- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans -
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Mourners are arriving, sir.

Fine. Let's begin.

I want you...

to kill me.

Hello, Directory Enquiries?

Yes, I'd like a number for
an organization, please.

It's called the... the
Voluntary Euthanasia Society.

I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up.

The Voluntary Euthanasia Society.

I'm sorry, Mr. Melrose, we can't help.

We're a campaign group.

- It's about changing the law.
- Really?

But I mean Voluntary Euthanasia,
it sounds so... hopeful.

Directory Enquiries, how can I help you?

Er... yes, I'd like an international
number, please, Switzerland.

Dignitas.

And what kind of organization are they?

- What... what does it do?
- Well, they...

I'll spell it for you.

Suicide stems from a disease:

a disease we now call depression.

And that's what we should be treating.

She can't move or speak
or control herself.

Depression isn't a disease, it's
an entirely reasonable response.

Quite frankly, it's cheerfulness
that would take some explaining.

When people are depressed we
give them anti-depressants.

She's on them!

They gave a certain enthusiasm
for her loathing of life.

That's when she asked me to kill her.

Do you know? It can be a great
privilege to work with the dying.

I don't think she's gonna start
working with the dying, do you?

And if you mean it's
your great privilege,

it's her quality of
life I'm concerned with.

I... I want...

Swiss-land.

That's what we're looking into.

Doctor Fenelon is here.

Do you remember, our family doctor?

Hello, Eleanor.

So, I'm going to take a look
at you and ask a few questions.

Please... don't tell him...

that my mother was...

a duchess.

I won't breathe a word.

"I can hardly move. I am
bedridden and incontinent

and feel uninterrupted
anguish at my own uselessness.

There is no prospect of improvement

and I can already feel
my faculties betraying me.

I do not look on death
with fear, but with longing.

Please help me to escape the
daily torture of my existence.

Yours sincerely."

Do you think that's fair?

Is that a fair description?

Yes.

Do you want to sign it?

Sign.

Thank you so much for doing all of this.

It's really not your
responsibility anymore.

You're welcome.

- So...
- An orphan at last!

It's what I always dreamed of.

After all this time, I feel complete.

I hope that's not your speech.

Ah, well, my speech...

Because it is printed
in the order of service.

I know.

- I can't do that for you.
- I wouldn't ask you to.

So you've written one?

I thought it'd probably
be better to improvise,

speak from the heart.

- Is that a good idea?
- With my heart?

There'll probably be a
stampede for the exit.

Surprised to see me?

I've become rather a memorial creeper.

One's bound to at my age.

It's no use sitting at home,

guffawing over the mistakes
of ignorant obituarists.

Thank you. No, one has
to celebrate the life!

"There goes the school tart.

They say he had a good
war, but I know better!"

Of course I'm not saying
it's not all very moving.

Thinly attended.

Are those your mother's
religious friends?

What color would you
call that? Aubergine?

Forgive me, Nicholas,
I really must talk to...

Try not to be bitter about the money.

One or two of my friends

who've made a mess
of that side of things

have ended up dying in
National Health wards,

and I must say I've been very impressed

by the humanity of the
mainly foreign staff.

Mind you, what else is
there to do with money,

but spend it when you have it
and be bitter when you don't?

I suppose what I'm saying is:
do be bitter about the money.

After all, what is it now,

six generations with
every single descendant

essentially idle?

It must be rather thrilling
for you and your children,

after such a long
exemption from competition,

- to get really stuck in!
- Goodbye, Nicholas.

And you mustn't feel guilty
about feeling pleased.

If ever there was a merciful release,

it was in the case of your poor mother.

Eleanor, it's time to go.

The flight leaves at three.

Do... nothing. Noth...

What was that?

Do... nothing. No go.

You mean... you've changed your mind?

No... Swiss-land.

I'm entitled to feel a
little ambiguous about this,

don't you think?

I mean, she asked me to organize this,

- the doctors, the letter of consent...
- I know.

...manipulated me, turned her
death into this passion project,

and now she changes her mind.

She's frightened. She
doesn't want to do it herself.

She wants someone else to do it for her.

Oh, believe me, I'm sorely tempted.

Why isn't there a bar in this
place? It would make a fortune.

- Come... Come and talk to her.
- What's the point?

If she ever had anything meaningful
to say to me, it's too late now.

Were you thinking about Eleanor?

Annette. We met in France, remember?

Yes. I hope you're
enjoying my family home.

Oh, we are!

Seamus sends his love.

- Oh, he's in your old bedroom now!
- Oh.

He really wanted to be here
but he's still writing his book.

How are you taking all this?

I was thinking how
life is just the history

of things we pay attention to.

The rest is just packaging.

Maya Angelou says the
meaning of life is the impact

we have on other people, whether
we make them feel good or not.

Eleanor always made people feel good.

- I might put that in my speech.
- You should!

My gift to you.

I tell you who loves Maya Angelou,

is that old man over
there, with the stick.

Do tell him. His name's Nick.

Will do!

Hello! You must be Nick.

Patrick, of all the
days to have a funeral!

It's Prince Charles' wedding!

Well, feel free to pop down
with your cardboard periscope

and a plastic Union Jack if you
think it'd be more entertaining.

Alright?

Lovely venue.

Yes, I'm thinking of
getting cremated here myself.

- Well, no need to rush.
- I was going to wait until I die.

Hm. How are you bearing up?

Weirdly elated.

I think my mother's death is the best
thing to have happened to me since,

well, my father's death.

I'm sure it's a little
more complicated than that.

- You're the psychiatrist.
- Psychotherapist.

Oh, whatever.

What utter, utter nonsense.

- Stand by the furnace...
- Oh, Christ, Nicholas Pratt.

...these words. "Goodbye, old thing.

One of us was bound to die first
and I'm delighted it was you!"

That's my spiritual practice

and you're welcome to put it in
your hilarious "spiritual tool box".

Isn't he hysterical?

What he doesn't realize is that
we live in a loving universe,

and it loves you too, Nick!

My dear, I never thought
I'd be so pleased to see you!

Nicholas, who are these peculiar people?

And why are they here?

Zealots, Moonies, witch doctors.

Avoid eye contact, stick close to me

and we may live to tell the tale.

Well, who is he?

He wouldn't be anybody

if he wasn't my
daughter's psychoanalyst.

As it is, he's a fiend!

We can start when you're ready, sir.

- Ten minutes.
- Ten minutes?

Well, there are people still arriving!

Just in time. We're about to kick off,

if that's the Er...
phrase I'm looking for.

Hm. It's not.

- It's been a long time.
- Almost a year.

Is it true you've
given up drinking again?

Yes, that's all over.

Congratulations.

It must be hard just now.

Not at all. A crisis demands a hero.

The ambush happens when
things are going well.

- Or so I'm told.
- Still not given up irony, then?

Hardest addiction of all.

Forget heroin, that need to
mean two things at once...

I'm having enough trouble
wearing nicotine patches

and smoking at the same time.

Don't take my irony, leave
me with a little sarcasm!

Sarcasm doesn't count.
That only means one thing.

Quality freak.

We'd better go inside. Apparently
the corpses are piling up.

Very exciting. Who's on the bill?

I've no idea.

- Mary's organized it.
- Adorable.

More like a mother than
your own mother, really.

She was, until she had her own children

and that rather blew my cover.

Still, real or not real,

I have to burn the remains of
the only mother I'll ever have.

It's good to see you again.
I wasn't sure I would.

You're not really gonna
live here, are you?

I'm trying to think of
it as my bachelor pad.

It's the kind of place people
come to kill themselves.

Yes. The thought had crossed my mind.

Don't! Be serious.

Christ, it's all so bleak!

But, I'm sorry,

squalor is not an
aphrodisiac, not at our age.

I can't come here again.

No, I don't think you should.

Robert? What are you doing in there?

Hello. Ssh-ssh.

I didn't hear you. Come here.

- What's going on?
- I'm picking up a few things.

How are you?

Robert, will you take
Thomas upstairs, please?

But we haven't seen each other.
Robert, how are you? Are you well?

How's school? Where is Thomas?

Now, please.

I'll come up and say goodbye.

Just a few bits and bobs,
if that's alright. You know.

Just a few family heirlooms to
brighten up the bachelor pad...

Fine, take what you want. And
you can go back to your flat.

Pass out there.

But I don't want the children
to see you in this state.

Oops!

Don't worry about the lamp,
I'll buy you a new bloody lamp.

Leave it and go home!

Home!

How sweet of you to
think of it as my home!

I am not in the happy
position of having a home.

Christ, this is hell!
This is like being in hell!

You. You of all people, should
know this is intolerable!

You know? "The service is
intolerable, the noise is intolerable."

Well, this... this is
fucking intolerable!

I am not Eleanor and I will not stand by

and watch this disgusting,
pitiful spectacle of you

destroying yourself.

And I certainly won't let
the boys watch it, either.

It's too much.

And it's gone on for too long.

If you really are determined
to drink yourself to death,

now you have a flat to go and do it in.

Daddy?

You're undergoing delirium tremens.

Do you know what that is, Mr. Melrose?

It... rings a bell.

Then you'll know what to expect.

Shaking, sweating.

There may be some hallucinations.

We'll get you something
to stabilize your heart,

stop you having seizures.

- I'm going to die.
- You are not going to die.

I don't mind. I want to die.

I want to die, I want to die.

I want to die.

Oh, Christ. It's the Spiritual Tool Box.

What a great choice for Eleanor.

And a fitting reminder, too, of
her incredibly strong connection

with the African-American people.

All of you will have
known Eleanor here today

and... if my Eleanor... is not yours

then, all I can say is...

let her in.

Let her in.

I first met Eleanor when a group of us

from the Dublin Women's
Healing Drum Circle

traveled down to her
wonderful house in Provence,

which many of you know well.

When we arrived we saw her sitting

on the wall of the terrace,

hands tucked under her thighs,

looking for all the world
like a lonely young child,

dreaming of the future.

Soon she had flung wide
her arms to welcome us,

but I never forgot

that first impression of
her child-like innocence...

I can never forget he's David's son.

Does he remind you of him?

In flashes... when
he's angry or sarcastic.

Which thankfully is less often now.

Hm.

Does he talk to you about him?

I don't think his father
haunts him the way he once did.

"Haunts".

I'm gonna catch you.

May I show you something, in private?

I get an awful lot of letters,

usually people asking
for a helping hand.

And I give it if I can, but...
this is something different.

She stayed here as a child.

She seems... deeply damaged.

Yes.

I mean, clearly she's
a very unhappy woman,

the alcohol, the depression.

But, honestly, to lay this at my door.

- Do you remember her?
- Of course!

The family were charming.

She was a bright and happy little girl.

David could be harsh, but
the children were always safe.

He was better with
children, playful even,

as long as they weren't too noisy.

All I know is the
family seemed very happy.

They... They told me
they'd had a lovely time.

She says your husband
interfered with her.

But how could he?

I mean, it was inconceivable,
literally, inconceivable.

- No suspicions?
- No.

No signs?

None at all. And that's
what makes me so angry.

"I forgive you."

She forgives me for not
protecting her, but how could I?

From what?

I mean, this is behavior
I didn't even know existed.

Here we go.

You mustn't mention a word of this.

It will only unsettle him...

all this talk of...
blame and forgiveness.

I know what a tyrant
his father could be,

but I did my best.

My very, very best to protect our son.

Are you awake?

The things... you told me, when we met.

About your father.

- What's brought this on?
- We have to talk about them again.

Well, I don't think I have
anything further to add so...

I think... you should tell your mother.

I'm sorry, I know it's hard.

I know you don't want to.

- Well, why then?
- Because...

She can't keep hiding.

"When I was a child

I spake as a child.

I understood as a child.

When I became a man, I
put away childish things.

For now I see through a glass, darkly.

But then, face to face,
now I know in part..."

Christ, not this old chestnut.

Who's on next?

- Patrick.
- "..and now abideth faith,

hope, love, these three.

But the greatest of these... is love.

Lovely spot.

It is.

- Mind if I join?
- Please.

I've been trying out different
combinations of words,

and none of them are right,
so perhaps if I don't think

too much and just come out with it.

When we were here...

when I was a child, and
we used to come here...

and for some years afterwards...

Father used...

he used to rape me.

Me too.

Me too.

Er... I... I haven't prepared a speech.

As you'll see.

Erm...

A lot has been said today
about my mother's innocence,

and how child-like she...

All I know is that when I was a child...

when my father was...

Why didn't she...

Why... Why couldn't...
Why couldn't she...

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't...

I can't do this... I can't!

I swear, if I hear one more person
telling me how innocent she was...

She might not have been,

- but even so it's an emotional time...
- Please, Mary, no. No, no, no.

Stop! This is not grief or mourning.

This is rage, my heart
is racing with it.

She knew! She must have known.

Surely she must have,
even subconsciously.

She knew what he was like

and yet she failed to do the
one thing she was obliged to do,

to protect her son!

Christ knows, I've been a fucking
useless father and a useless husband.

And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

But if I thought someone was gonna
harm our children, I would fight.

Even I would do whatever it
takes because if you love someone,

you protect them.

But my mother?

Christ, no wonder he stuck with her!

All those children around and
a son thrown into the bargain.

He couldn't believe his fucking luck!

Years and years and years of
it, doing whatever he wanted,

whenever he wanted.

Nobody should do that to anybody else.

No...

Christ, Mary.

I thought I was getting better,
but I'm such a fucking mess.

How often would you say
you have suicidal thoughts?

When I was younger it was all the time,

I never questioned it.

But then, when we had the boys
it was... more of a whisper.

On a quiet coastal path,

in the chemist...

driving on the motorway.

And now?

I look at the window and wonder
whether this floor is high enough.

Are you gonna be alright?

Let's find out.

- Daddy!
- Thomas!

Hah!

Hello, how are you?
How's your other granny?

- The same.
- Patrick!

After the disinheritance,

it would have been hypocritical
of me to go to the funeral.

But the party's a different matter.

I want to support you.

And, of course, it helps with
it being just around the corner.

Patrick, what an unusual
speech. So eloquent.

And how thrilling to be introduced,

at my advanced age, to a new club.

The Onslow Club! I've
never heard it mentioned...

- Is this your eldest?
- Yes. Robert.

What a pity David isn't
here to enjoy your sons.

He would at least have ensured

that they didn't spend the whole
day in front of the television.

Ha! I vividly remember, when
we had once seen some children

practically give birth
to a cathode ray tube,

he said to me, "I dread to think

what all that radiation is
doing to their little genitals."

Robert, why don't you run
ahead and find your mother?

How's your daughter, Nicholas?

Well, I presume.

We've not spoken for years.

I can't help thinking
how much your father

would have savored this occasion.

Whatever his drawbacks as a parent,

he never lost his sense of humor.

Easy not to lose what you never had.

Oh, I disagree. He saw the
funny side in everything.

He only ever saw the funny side
of things that didn't have one.

Cruelty and laughter have
always been close neighbors.

Close without being incestuous.

Your father had a rare
and precious disdain

for the opinions of most people...

Nicholas, I understand how much you
must miss my other amazing parent,

- but if you'll forgive me...
- ...morality... a colossus.

...I have to deal with the people
that have come here to mourn my mother.

Are you alright, there, Nick?

Did you get yourself
in a bit of a muddle?

Do not call me Nick!

Excuse me.

I can't breathe.

It feels like someone's
squeezing my throat.

To see that... to see
that ghoul Nicholas Pratt,

my father's representative
on earth, touching Robert.

I can't be in the same room.

- Wine or champagne?
- Oh, God!

- He means no, thank you.
- Maybe later.

Very much later. Oh, have some water.

Oh, Christ. I know her.

It's Amitriptyline. What
the fuck is she doing here?

Who?

No. No, no, no. I need
to get some fresh air.

I'm going to go for a
walk round the block.

The thing is... I absolutely
loathe my children.

They're monsters,
they're complete horrors.

And, of course, I've played my part.

I lay in bed for ten months, I
didn't utter a single syllable

And when I did start I couldn't stop

because it had all just piled up.

I woke up next morning in the guest room

and there was excrement,
human excrement,

smeared all over the
hand-painted wallpaper.

And it took me a while to
realize that it was mine.

I think we need to be
aware of the alcoholic

behind the alcohol.

You can take the brandy
out of the fruitcake,

but you've still got the fruitcake.

- I don't think you can.
- What?

Take the brandy out of the fruitcake.

Same as you can't take
eggs out of a soufflé.

- Well, it's only a metaphor.
- Only a metaphor!

- Patrick...
- But it doesn't work!

Could we move on? Please?

Becky.

Self-harming, resistant depressive.

Patrick.

Narcissistic, schizoid,
suicidal alcoholic.

How many types of medication
do they have you on?

Three. Two anti-depressants
and a tranquillizer.

- I'm on eight.
- Then I suppose you win.

I think a lot of my relationship
problems stem from the fact

that the person I'm
having a relationship with

doesn't know we're in a relationship.

Fuck, Jill!

No wonder you're here
for the ninth time!

You're going to have
to apologize for that.

Why? I meant it.

That's why you have to apologize.

But I wouldn't mean it if I apologized.

Fake it to make it,
man. Fake it to make it.

Fuck!

Patrick!

I was looking for you.

- They're throwing me out.
- Really?

They say I'm a... disruptive influence.

I don't contribute.

Of course I don't fucking
contribute, I'm depressed!

Fuck, I hate this fucking place!

- Rebecca...
- I can't go back to my parents.

This is my sister's address.

She's away, so... I'll be there alone.

Miss Owen, now, please.

Come and find me.

Well done. You came back.

Oh, I still want to leave.

I want to leave with
that waitress over there.

Christ, look at her.

Do you think if I told her
it was my mother's funeral

and I needed cheering up...

She might be the one to save you?

It's worth a try.

Patrick, it turns out
Fleur is an old friend

- of your mother's.
- Yes, actually, we've met before.

- Your mother saved my life.
- Really?

She gave me a job in one of
the charity shops she ran.

And that is where I
had one of my episodes.

We'd had a fur coat in that morning.

It was an amazing sable coat.

And I put it on, emptied
the till, shut the shop,

hailed a cab and I said,
"Take me to The Ritz!"

And I sat in the Palm Court
drinking champagne cocktails

and talking to anyone who would listen.

And eventually the police were summoned,

and I had no one to
call on but your mother.

And I promised I'd never do it again.

I mean, I did.

Many, many times.

But you should be very proud of her.

She did an enormous
amount of practical good.

And she's touched hundreds of lives.

Very good of you to
let me know. Thank you.

- So... Do you?
- Do I what?

Do you feel proud of your mother?

- I'm really not sure.
- You're not sure?

Well, you're worse than my children.

- Sorry, I really ought to circulate.
- Absolute bastards.

All of you...

So what did the lunatic have to say?

She suggested there's no easy conclusion

about what someone's life means.

You can come to a conclusion
about what it means to you.

Actually, I feel inconclusive
about both my parents.

Sounds exhausting.

Isn't it easier just
to loathe their guts?

Yes, I tried that with my father.

No good.

The truth is I feel everything:

contempt, pity, rage, terror...

and tenderness.

Tenderness?

At the thought of how unhappy
he was, they both were.

And then of course I
remember I have sons

of my own and the loathing floods back.

Well, I hate bereavement. It
plays havoc with your eyeliner.

I didn't realize my
mother meant so much.

Oh, it's nothing to do with her.

It's just the way tears spring on you,

at a funeral or a silly film.

Not brought on by the
thing that triggers them,

just from a generalized
sadness, I suppose.

Sometimes the trigger and the
sadness are the same thing.

Occasionally.

Oh, Christ, I wonder what it'd be like

to have an unconditioned
response about something,

anything, without irony and detachment,

just to be spontaneous,
to feel something...

Well, it's no use asking me.

No.

Sorry, erm... you can't
actually smoke out here.

Really? I didn't know.

It's funny, because it is outside.

It's technically still part of the club,

and Er... there's no
smoking anywhere in the club.

So...

Well, I'd better put it out, then.

Er... No, let me.

- I'm so sorry about that.
- It's okay.

I'm used to it.

Excuse me? Hello. Sorry.

Er... I just... I
wondered if I could erm...

Tea or coffee?

Actually, no, it's something else.

Erm...

I just... Would you mind...
if I took your number?

_

- Oh, Christ.
- Hello.

- Are you leaving?
- Sssh.

Oh, I must say, I don't envy you.

I love it here. It gets me
away from my awful children.

The little shits. I loathe them.

Do you have children yourself?

Actually, I'm sorry, I'm trying to...

Well, if I have one word
of advice, it's this.

Amitriptyline.

The only time I've ever
been happy was on it,

but these bastards won't give me any.

The thing is, I'm trying
not to take anything, so...

Don't be ridiculous. It's
the most marvelous drug.

Amitriptyline!

I'd expected more people.
She was very well-loved.

Well, she lost touch with
people when she stopped speaking.

It must have been terrible for her,

not to be able to say
what she wanted to,

especially to Patrick.

That's why we must all
resolve to drop our defenses

and say what we feel, while we can.

- Mummy!
- And then at this point the English usually say,

"Well, this is a cheerful subject!"

I see you two are still
glued to each other.

Well, no one can hope to ignore their
children as completely as you did.

Mary!

You go and find Robert, darling.

We always communicated!

Do you remember what you said to me

when you telephoned me at
school to say Daddy had died?

- Well, I said how awful it was.
- "Cheer up," you said.

"Cheer up"! You never had
any idea who I was then

and you still don't now.

How are you, dear?

Well...

considering I've just had my
head bitten off by my daughter.

Has she had mental health problems?

I beg your pardon?

Have you had mental health problems?

Have we met?

Well, I just have a
feeling for these things.

So, have you?

No, I have not had
"mental health problems".

Even in this degenerate age
of confession and complaint,

when the vocabulary
of Freudian mumbo-jumbo

is emptied onto every conversation

like vinegar onto a newspaper
full of sodden chips,

some of us choose not to tuck in!

As if it weren't ludicrous enough

that every child must be gifted,

they now have to be ill as well.

A touch of Asperger's, some autism,

dyslexia stalks the playground!

Poor little things.

If they can't confess to being abused,

they must confess to being abusive!

Well, my dear,

I call you my dear from
what is no doubt known as

"Sincerity Deficit Disorder."

No, I have never suffered the
slightest taint of mental illness

because I am the impossible man,

the man who is entirely well!

- Psychotherapists scatter...
- You are completely off your rocker!

- And I thought as much...
- ...ashamed of their sham profession.

- ..my little radar.
- Bugger off!

A month in the clinic will
do you the power of good

because it will re-clothe
you in your rightful mind.

♪ Oh, the Father of Mankind ♪

- ♪ Forgive our foolish ways ♪
- Is everything alright?

Oh, God, here he is!

Like an exhibit in a courtroom drama.

- A practicing witch doctor.
- I was just trying to help this poor man...

A man happy to turn my
daughter against her own father.

Inventing repulsive fantasies,

polluting human imagination
with murderous babies

and incestuous...

Well, he has got himself all worked up.

- I'll call an ambulance.
- Hoist with his own petard.

As they say.

Oh, God, that would
really finish me off.

Is she praying?

- That's nice of her.
- ...return to the mother...

Johnny.

Say goodbye to your father for me.

Pat... Pat...

Pat...

Pat... Pat...

Pat...

Heart attack, apparently.

You can tell by the cold nose.

I'll go with him to the hospital.

What an emotional day!

Don't worry, Nick, I
won't leave your side.

I must go. I've a patient at four.

- Thank you.
- Well done.

For what? The public breakdown?

In the trade it's what
we'd call a breakthrough.

Yes, well... without
getting Californian...

I'm grateful.

Are you coming back with us?

You'd be very welcome.

No, I'll see you at
the weekend. Come here.

- See you at the weekend.
- You could...

just come back and have
some dinner, just us four.

- Very quiet.
- No, I think I'll crash out.

'Cause it's been a long day.

Well, if you change your mind...

Thank you.

In fact, you should change your mind.

That's what it's for.

"And now I keep thinking I'm a moth!"

"Very interesting,"
says the psychiatrist.

"What made you come here today?"

"Well," he says, "I saw
the light in the window."

Very good.

Do you specialize in these jobs

because of your sunny disposition?

You say that, but last
year, for four months,

I literally couldn't get out of bed.

- Couldn't see the point.
- Oh.

Oh, well, I'm... sorry to hear that.

Believe me, Mr. Melrose,
in a month's time

you'll look back and think,

"What was all the fuss
about? What was I thinking?"

That's what happened to me,
anyway. Is this it, then?

Very nice. They'll be
pleased to get their dad back.

- Who?
- The kids.

Good luck with it, mate.

Actually, I know this
might sound a bit crazy,

for want of a better word,
but could you take me back?

To the hospital?

I don't think I'm quite ready.

Fuckin' hell... you people.

Fear knocked on the door.

Courage opened the door.

And there was nobody there!

Please, carry on.

Bravo.

Come on, come on.

- Hello?
- Patrick?

Hello? Patrick, is that you?

- Yes.
- Annette here.

I'm afraid I've rather bad news.

Nicholas didn't make it.

He stopped breathing in the ambulance.

Oh, Patrick, are you crying?

No, no, I'm just out of breath.

Though, of course, I'm also very sad.

Amazing man, completely unique.

Let's hope so. The
idea of a whole village

full of Nicholas Pratts
is rather terrifying.

Patrick?

I'm sorry, it's only
just occurred to me.

He was the... the last one.

Last of my parents' circle.

They're all gone now.

Oh, now you're making me cry.

Oh, really, there's no need.

Thank you for what you
said at the funeral too.

It was helpful to have
another point of view.

She might not have
been the perfect mother.

That must anger you.

But sometimes those who
deserve the most blame

also deserve the most compassion.

Goodbye, Patrick.

Patrick?

Patrick, where are you?

Helene.

Hello?

Oh, hello, it's Patrick here.

Hello.

I've decided I'm bored of ghosts.

I want to see people instead.

I see. Okay...

Well, is it too late to change my mind?

Not at all.

After all... that's what it's for.

The boys will be delighted to see you.

I'm going to the bathroom.

Well, don't be long.

Patrick?

Patrick, where are you?

Patrick!

Come and sit here.

No.

- Beg pardon?
- No.

I won't do what you say anymore.

Patrick. Don't talk like
that to your dear old dad.

It's wrong. You're wrong!

Nobody should do that to anybody else.

Right.

Yeah.

- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans -
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