Original subtitles

(gentle percussive music)

(cars honking)

- Buggering hell!

- That's a must-see.

I can't find it in the guidebook.

- No, Mum, it's the traffic.

We've barely moved three inches.

- Keep calm, dear.

Have a biscuit.

Caribbean Crumbler.

- What makes it Caribbean?

A dash of rum and some desecrated coconut.

- You mean desiccated?

- No.

- Ugh!

(laughs)

Still, the end justifies the means.

French Revolution, Mum.

I'll give you the full lecture in Paris.

- I'm glad you're excited, dear.

- I really am.

A grand tour, prepaid.

The empires, the art,

the big questions of Europe then and now.

- Yes.

Do we still get duty-free?

- I think it's gonna be something

really special to remember.

Because ...

I know you don't want to talk about it, but ...

- What?

- The C word.

- I've never had a problem talking cun--

- The other one, Mum.

Cancer.

- Why?

Who's got cancer?

- Mum!

- Rollmop?

(energetic rock music)

Frannie, what's the matter?

You're surprised, upset, confused?

How many syllables?

What does it rhyme with?

Oh, you're angry.

(Fran grunts)

Sit there.

I'll go and put the kettle on.

(breathing forcibly)

Here, eat your feelings, dear.

Look ...

Perhaps I shouldn't have let you run away with that detail.

- We're in post-factual times.

And it was hard getting a word in edgeways

with you fan-splaining every Saxon settlement.

- Ha!

- I just wanted to spend time with you, Frannie.

Didn't you say that the end justifies the means?

- Don't you dare use history against me!

- But it was against us!

I was trying to fix it, that's all.

- That's all?

- We were just starting to enjoy it, and each other.

And we still can.

Look.

- [Fran] Unbelievable!

- There is a silver lining to all this, you know.

I am not dying.

Frannie ...

you're part of me.

- Here we go!

You always say that.

Well, look where it's got me.

- I didn't have the life I thought I would either.

The things I missed out on--

- (scoffs) You don't get sympathy.

You lied.

- So what?

That's what we do when things are difficult,

when they're hard and painful.

- This whole trip has been about pretending

you weren't a shit mum!

That's the truth!

- Well, here's some truth for you.

You were too fat for the ballet club.

The cat didn't move to Brighton--

- Time to go.

- [Mim] Frannie!

- No!

The things you say and do have consequences, Mum.

So, cancer isn't going to kill you, but I just might.

- What are you saying?

- I'm saying, congratulations.

You've got your life back.

I'm going to get mine.

(soft music)

(door slams)

- We had to cover your absence with a supply teacher.

- It was half term.

- It was, but then you didn't come back for five weeks.

- Could we call it a sabbatical?

- I know you've had some personal issues.

Don't worry about the postcard.

I intercepted it.

Some rather strong words to the Chair of the Governors.

- Oh, Mum!

- I am sorry you didn't get the promotion.

- [Fran] How is the new Head of Department?

- He's very good.

Yes.

Very good.

Very hands on with the Sixth Form.

- [Fran] Great!

- Now, Fran ...

I have always liked you.

- You have?

- I've always felt we had a connection.

Me, geography, you, history.

- The humanities.

- Now that you don't work here anymore, Fran,

would you like to mudlark with me?

- I beg your pardon?

- We could go for dinner.

Who knows?

- Uh ...

I shall have to think about that one, Sir.

- Nigel.

- Sir Nigel.

There's been a lot to take in.

At home.

- Yes, of course.

- Here.

- No pressure.

- And I have to find a job.

- You could always tutor for a bit.

- Okay.

That's enough for today, I think.

Yeah.

Right.

(cellphone beeps)

(soft music)

Nope!

Frannie, I'm doing your favorite: moussaka, no mince,

I'm gonna dice up a quail.

And life's too short for bechamel.

I'm using Delia's cheat recipe,

and I know you love ready-made custard.

I'm making enough for two.

(call disconnects)

Oh, bum!

Answering machines.

I've been to some terrible places in my time.

But being sent to Coventry is the worst.

Okay, so I told her I was dying.

Technically, we all are.

Big deal.

You fancy coming to Norfolk with me to catch crabs?

(rattling)

(gentle music)

* Well you taught me to drive in the city *

* And I taught you to hoLd your tongue *

* You've been thinking it's all dandy *

* While I've been fearing it's far gone *

Frannie?

* Oh I know that I'm a risk for flying *

* Running faster than I thought I could *

* Burning bridges that nobody would *

* Yes I've done this once before *

* Ooh I've done this once before *

* Oh and I don't wanna break your heart *

* Oh and I don't wanna break your heart *

* And I don't wanna break your heart *

* Though I feat that's wear I'm headed *

* Yes I've done this once before *

* Oh I fear that's where I'm headed *

* Yes I've one this once before *

* Well you taught me to drive in the city *

* And I taught you to hold your tongue *

Well, I guess it's just you and me now.

Right.

- I think Hitler's foreign policy

was possibly more than "a wind-up".

- We'll put "crumb" then, innit?

- What?

(cellphone rings)

- (chuckles) That is your ringtone?

Tradge!

- Just focus on the essay, please.

- For real, is that your phone?

I had that when I was in year three.

- It's perfectly functional, thank you.

I just haven't upgraded the operating thingy.

Do you ...

- This is some jank kit, man.

Password?

Like I want to read your phone, Miss.

You've got nothing I ain't.

Except for, like, a million missed calls.

- Ugh, from my mother.

Can you block her?

- But it ain't her ringing you.

It's a Mr. Merdon.

- Give that back!

- Are you blue-balling him?

- Just get on with your work.

- Hold the goddess pose.

Breathing deeply down into the pelvic chakra.

Before moving on to the heart.

Now, gently into your uttanasana.

- What?

- The uttanasana.

Bend forward, feel yourself unblocking.

(farts)

(groans)

(breathing heavily)

(beeping)

- Fran?

(energetic rock music)

Fran! (gasps)

I didn't know you were so fast on your feet.

- Only short bursts.

- Sorry.

I really couldn't wait to speak to you.

- Listen, Mr. Merdon--

- Nigel.

- Merdon.

Maybe I could potentially like you, you're so tenacious.

- No, Fran, there's a situation at school.

- Oh.

What?

- You remember the new appointment I told you about

that got the promotion?

- Oh, yeah, "very hands-on".

- A little too hands-on, as it turns out.

He's run off to Belgium, with a sixth former.

The job is yours.

- When can I start?

(energetic music)

Those who cannot remember the past

are condemned to repeat it.

And even those who can obsessively remember every detail

from a misspelled birthday card in 1987

to a jibe about facial hair in 2017

are doomed to relive it until they understand it.

Yes, history will set you free.

(gentle music)

- I've finally done it!

- Sounds like it.

I got your distress calls.

- Oh, Pat, I've been at my wits' end.

- Well, luckily I am not reading

this month's book club choice on principle.

So I am free to come along and hear

exactly what you've done wrong now.

- I'll just get my hat.

- Hat?

No, no!

We do this at my country club.

The dress code is very specific.

- But it's a Robin Hood fun day.

- Off!

That was a bloody stupid thing to say.

- So how can I make things right with her?

What would you do?

- Gemma and I have hardly had a cross word,

let alone a set-to about a faked terminal illness.

- I tried to keep things going.

Carpe diem.

I even tried yoga to have my chakras re-pointed.

But right in the middle of it

I was gripped by this terrible pain.

- Probably indigestion.

My Ronnie has been a martyr to reflux for years.

That's why I put him in the guest room.

- But it didn't go, Pat.

And ever since I've had this dreadful guilt

hanging about my solar plexus.

- Well, at least you're being honest now.

- Not about everything.

- What else have you stolen from my house?

- Nothing!

- Mim, why did you take that?

- Because it's the one thing

that I always meant to tell her.

- What can you tell her now, after all this time?

- But maybe-- - But nothing.

My advice to you is the same as it was in 1981.

- Don't crash the royal wedding in a white bikini?

- Oh, don't be obtuse, Mim.

You didn't listen to me then, please listen to me now.

Leave well alone.

(gentle music)

- Softly, softly, catchy monkey.

- Any plans for the weekend?

- Sleep, marking, more sleep.

- Yes, well, as we say in secondary headship,

the first seven terms are the worst.

(chuckling)

Gallows humor.

Fran?

- Yes?

- Frannie!

- What are you doing here?

- You don't answer the phone, you don't reply to my emails.

- Well, luckily I was hacked

and had to reset my password to something I cannot remember.

- I had to see you, Frannie.

- Look, I don't have time for this, Mum.

I'm very busy now I'm Head of Department.

- I'm very happy for you, if you are.

- Of course I'm happy.

Is that why you're here, to ruin it all again?

- No!

Do whatever boring job you want, Frannie.

Please.

I just need you to understand something.

I've only just come to understand it myself.

- You're a liar and a narcissist?

- The whole trip I was trying to tell you a truth.

I was!

But I didn't have much to give you.

- A bit like my 10th birthday, then?

What did I want?

A world atlas.

What did I get?

The Kama Sutra in Braille.

- You were always such a prude.

Oh!

I don't feel good.

- I think we've done that one.

- Look, I know you hate me right now,

but I bring this out of love.

I have in my hand a piece of paper--

- Oh, don't!

And Chamberlain said, "I hold in my hand," so get it right.

- I just want peace, Fra--

(thumping)

- Ugh!

Are you really doing this?

You're so embarrassing!

I'm walking, Mum.

- Fran!

- No, leave her.

She is fine.

(moaning)

(soft music)

- Hi.

Now, as you know, I can't tutor you any more.

- Gutted.

- Likewise.

But one last thing.

I don't know what you did to my phone, but it's gone weird.

It doesn't ring or play messages.

- (chuckles) Or, like, you had it on silent.

- [Nigel] Hi, Fran, please call as soon as you can, please.

It's your mother.

We had to call an ambulance.

- And ...

delete.

- That is cold, man!

- You really don't know the half of it.

Which reminds me.

Your history essay.

- I just don't get it.

The Cold War, two superpowers,

each fearing the other was intent on domination,

brought to the brink of mutual destruction

by decades of mistrust and misunderstanding.

- They should have just got on the blower.

- Well, there was a hotline, telex machine, really, but ...

Yes, fine.

- Hello.

(soft music)

- Fran!

- Where is she?

- She was in there.

- Oh.

Oh, I didn't hate you.

Not really.

I loved you.

- I'm very glad to hear it.

- Mum!

- I told you I was ill.

- What?

Have you somehow suddenly got cancer just to prove a point?

- No, it's nothing like that.

What your mother has is a chronic case of life.

With added diabetes, cholesterol and high blood pressure.

- I see.

- Good.

Because she's not in the best of shape.

Not getting any younger

and when trying to do too much on her ...

own ...

- Well, she stopped speaking to me.

- [Doctor] Something's got to give.

- Well, how long has she got?

- There's no need to panic.

But I will say this.

If there are things you want to do, do them.

- Frannie ...

- Yes, Mum?

- Can I have a biscuit?

(upbeat music)

Where's my biscuit?

- Mum, you heard what the doctor said.

- Yeah, yeah, high this, low that.

- No, the other bit.

- I'm dying?

- Yes.

We all are.

- Well, what the fuck are we going to do about it?

- Come on.

Let's get out of here.

- My bucket?

- Your bucket.

(energetic music)

Okay, let's do this.

Bags, check.

Passports, check.

Foul smelling Tupperware, check.

Mum, check.

You, me and the open road.

Where next, right?

- Frannie ...

- Yeah?

- You know I said there was something I wanted to tell you.

- Yeah.

- Well, I collapsed, and you left me for dead.

- Why have you brought that photo

of Gemma and the bunny man?

- It's not Gemma.

It's you.

And your father.

- You said he died before I was born.

- It was easier.

I was a single mother, it was the '80s.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

- That's what you said about Betamax, Mum.

This is my father!

- I know, but it was complicated.

He was a little bit unreliable.

A little married.

Actually, he was rather little.

- You said you barely knew him.

- He had the delicate touch of a librarian,

fingering me like a rare manuscript

in his little white gloves.

- You said he came and went.

- Well, that bit's true.

He never lingered post-coitally.

- I met him, then?

- [Mim] Once or twice, yes.

- So what happened?

- I told him it was all or nothing.

And he broke my heart.

- I'm sorry.

- You only tore my perineum, dear.

- And so, what, he took off?

- We lost touch.

Easy to disappear before the internet.

- So there was nothing to tell me.

- Well, not back then--

- Fair enough, I guess.

And ultimately, so what?

Never knew him, never missed him.

But thanks, Mum.

I get why you're telling me now.

- You do?

- It's the last truth, isn't it?

- Well, I'm not sure--

- I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel, but that's just it.

I have got to figure this shit out.

Blank slate, no issues, off we go.

(engine starts)

So, come on.

Northern lights?

Las Vegas?

Bareback llama wrestling at Machu bloody Picchu?

(chuckling)

- That sounds good.

And we can do it all on the way.

- What?

Way to where?

- Your father.

I think I know where he is

(gentle music)

(energetic rock music)