All language subtitles for Patrick.Melrose.S01E05.720p.WEB.H264-DEFLATE

*PATRICK MELROSE*
Season 01 Episode 05

*PATRICK MELROSE*
Episode Title: "At Last"

Sync corrections by srjanapala

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... 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?

Ro-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.

♪ When I die I want you to dress
me in straight-lace shoes ♪

♪ A box-back coat
and a Stetson hat ♪

♪ Put a twenty-dollar gold
piece on my watch chain ♪

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.
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...

..I have to deal with the people
a colossus.

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-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...

- And I thought as much...
- ..rocker! in my presence,

- ..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...

- A man happy to turn my daughter
- ..poor man who has more of

- against herown father.
- Mental health problems.

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.

♪ Tender is the night ♪

♪ Lying by your side ♪

♪ Tender is the touch ♪

♪ Of someone that
you love too much ♪

♪ Tender is the day ♪

♪ The demons go away ♪

♪ Lord I need to find ♪

♪ Someone who can
heal my mind ♪

♪ Come on, come on, come on ♪

♪ Get through it ♪

♪ Come on, come on, come on ♪

♪ Love's the greatest thing ♪

♪ Come on ♪