All language subtitles for Capturing Mary 2007 (англ)

Capturing Mary

MAN: I've been working for most
of the year in this big house in London.

I'm on the door.

It belongs to Elliot Graham,

who, in the list of the richest people
in Britain, was number eight.

Nobody lives here now.

Mr Graham himself lives across
the street, in number 3 1.

All that happens in this house
is that it's cleaned, every day,

and people arrange flowers here.

There is always fresh flowers.

And then, when the cleaners all leave,
I'm alone here.

From between six and nine,
I am by myself.

Well, until the security guard turns up.

I have this whole place to myself.
Every day.

I'm not allowed to let anybody in,

not permitted to open the front door
to any stranger.

I never break this rule, ever.

Not without Mr Graham's
personal permission.

But yesterday I did break it.

The house
shouldn't have been empty then.

It was only ten to three,
but the cleaners had left early.

I really don't know
why I broke the rule.

It was just something about her.

Yeah?

Is Mrs Hopkins in?

She don't work here any more.

Right. I see.

I spoke to her on the phone
a little while ago,

and she was kind enough to say if I was
passing and would like to look inside,

I should just ring the bell.
And today I was passing.

No, she stopped working here
two weeks ago.

I'll go, then.

- I can let you in, though.
-Can you?

Please, come in.

Thank you.

Thank you.

(EXCLAIMS)

That door!

It's extraordinary, isn't it?

Yeah. It is strange.

You get used to it, though.

Was there something
you wanted to see especially?

-I mean, apart from the door?
-No.

No, nothing, nothing I need to see.

No, I was just passing,
as I said, I thought it would be

fascinating to see inside
after all this time.

I used to come here when I was young.

-Okay.
-Almost as young as you.

Right.

Well, I've got all the keys here,

so if you change your mind,
I can show you whatever you want.

Yeah, there's lots to see.

No, no, gosh, that won't be necessary.
I don't want to cause any bother.

It's no bother.

And I have another appointment.
Honestly, I can't be here long.

It won't take long.

No, I don't want to see
the rest of the house.

I... I didn't come prepared
for a guided tour,

you know, that's what I mean.

It's beautifully kept, I must say.

Hmm, fresh flowers and everything.

My name's Mary, Mary Gilbert.

-I'm Joe.
-Hello, Joe.

Joe Dix.

Hello, Joe Dix.

Shall I get you some tea?

I can do it quickly, very quickly,
so you don't miss your appointment.

Yes, yes, that would be very kind.
Thank you.

It's beautiful tea, Joe.
Thank you so much.

-And these are delicious.
-Good.

I'll just drink this, then I'll be gone.
I have to get to my appointment.

Well, I'll be over here.
Don't worry about me.

I've just got to fill in
a few things in this ledger,

all the hours I've done this week.

(UPBEAT ROCK MUSIC
PLAYING ON HEADPHONES)

(PING-PONG BALL BOUNCING)

(MEN MUTTERING)

(WOMAN SINGING OPERA)

(DOOR BANGING)

JOE: Miss!

Miss!

-Oh, I'm so sorry. How clumsy of me.
-It's okay.

-Oh, my...
-Wait there.

Oh, I...

I'm not sure
I should have let this one in.

-Here.
-I'm so sorry.

It's all right.

This will do it.

-Look, please, let me.
-No, no, no.

You kindly ask me in here and I spill
things all over the beautiful floor.

Don't worry. It's only milk.

What happened here?

What do you mean?

Well, something happened to you here,
didn't it?

I mean, before, when you were young?

-Is that what you think, Joe?
-Yeah.

Just because I didn't want to see
the rest of the house

doesn't mean something happened here.

-Why did you used to come here?
-I came as a guest.

-What, to big parties?
-No. Quite small parties.

-Oh, small parties?
-Hmm. They were very select.

(WOMEN SINGING OPERA)

MARY: It was amazing, this house, then.
I'd never seen anything like it.

Mr Graham's father

invited people here
he considered important.

Once a week he had a little soiree,

so when you came here,

there were few guests,
but nearly all of them were giants.

Great novelists,

famous people from the movies,

actors and directors, scientists...

Politicians, of course, too.

Those were the only guests.

I mean, you'd crane your neck
all night to try to get a glimpse.

Was that... Was that E.M. Forster
that just walked past you?

Is that figure over there in the chair
Alfred Hitchcock?

Is that the back of Evelyn Waugh's head?

I think that's Ava Gardner over there,

deep in the shadows.

-Why were you there?
-How on earth was I invited?

(CHUCKLES)

Me?

A young woman
who'd just lost her Manchester accent.

You wouldn't have guessed
that's where I came from, would you?

I hadn't thought about it.

I forced myself to lose my accent,
at university.

I taught myself to speak like this.

I was there because I'd been very lucky

and become rather well-known
in my own right.

See, at Oxford,
I wrote a lot of journalism,

and one of my pieces got picked up
by a Sunday newspaper.

Suddenly I was writing
about movies and culture.

You really can't imagine
what the world was like then.

It was a very class-bound time,
of course,

full of absurd rules
and ridiculous prejudices.

Even about how you held your fork
at meal times.

It was at Henley.

-No, I...
-I'm sure, at the shoot.

I've never been to a shoot.

Well, suddenly, I had my own column

and I wrote a book with a...
It's a silly title,

Slicing The Apple, which caused a stir.

It was an attack against the male elite.

It was nothing remarkable,
of course,Joe.

It was who was saying it
that excited people.

I mean, this was before the Beatles
and all that, of course.

Yeah? Oh, before the Beatles.

The confidence of youth.

YOUNG MARY: A month ago,
regular readers of this column

will remember I advocated
a little more passion

in our native cinema,

that perhaps physical love
was not best expressed

by a small
on our jaunty hero's cheek

by his long-suffering wife,

as he sets off
for work in the morning whistling.

I also ventured the thought
that it was important

that audiences were treated as adults,
and therefore

sexual love was clearly
a proper subject for cinema.

And that, ultimately,
we might see some representation

of the actual sexual act
in mainstream pictures.

I wrote an article
saying there should be more sex

in the movies.
I mean, all hell broke loose.

There I was.

I kept being invited,
and I felt really alive,

buzzing with ideas
and the possibility of things.

JOE: Miss?

Was it in here?

In one of these rooms, the singing?

Partly in there.

-Come and have a look at it now.
-Oh, no. No, I don't need to do that.

Come on.

Someone die in here or something?

It looks smaller.

(SINGING OPERA)

The funny thing is,

the person I found most interesting
wasn't one of the living legends.

I found myself

becoming really fascinated by this man
who wasn't at all famous.

In fact, nobody there
was quite sure what he did.

I noticed people seemed
a little nervous when he approached,

even Alfred Hitchcock.

And then I began to understand why,

when I managed to eavesdrop
on what he was saying.

He would whisper to these great writers
and movie directors and actors,

''Your latest

''doesn't seem to have caused
quite such a stir as your last.

''It's still on, isn't it?

''Well, I don't know, I liked it.
I don't know why I'm so alone.''

You must be so relieved.

People seem to be going
despite the notices.

He seemed to weave a web

round these famous people.

I think people are just
a little confused, that's what I think.

But it won't have done you any harm,
will it?

People said he was in publishing.

That as a very young man he'd worked
for Lloyd George on his papers,

getting them in order.

Now he was doing the same
for Winston Churchill.

He was very friendly with the great
newspaper proprietors of the time.

So he knew everyone who mattered.

He was one of those mysterious people

who seem to do
both everything and nothing.

(PING-PONG BALL BOUNCING)

Sometimes,

I would see him thrash this ball about
in the passage.

People said he knew so many secrets,

but he never ever disclosed
what he knew.

The other extraordinary thing he did,

he brought
these extremely young girls with him.

Gorgeous young things,
but definitely underage.

On my fourth visit,

there was
this particularly glorious creature.

I don't know how he introduced her.
His niece? Friend of the family?

I'd never spoken to him.

Not yet.

Occasionally, I would
see him glance towards me

in a slightly knowing way.

And on this evening,
he was getting closer and closer.

Phyllis, how are you?

MARY: I felt myself getting excited.

More excited, �,

than if Alfred Hitchcock
had been coming to talk to me.

What did he say?

-Oh, sorry.
-Sorry.

MARY: I'd just gone into the kitchen
to get a glass of water.

It seemed absurd
to ask a servant to do that.

-I'm not disturbing you, am I?
-No, no, of course, not.

Both of us have escaped to the kitchen.

No, I just came
to get myself some water.

Right.

Well, as for me,
I'm really going to shock you, I think.

-Oh, are you? I doubt that.
-I've come here to make myself a salad.

(LAUGHING)

I have.

One of my little foibles
when it gets late.

The staff leave me the ingredients
and I make myself a salad.

-Does that shock you?
-No, of course not.

It is a little eccentric, I admit.

-I haven't introduced myself, I'm...
-It is me who has to introduce himself.

I'm Greville White.

I know, of course, who you are,
Mary Gilbert, because you are famous.

-Oh, no, hardly.
-Absolutely. You are.

I hang on your every word.
I can quote whole paragraphs.

You're an ''acid observer'',
isn't that right?

Slicing people down to size?
I do a bit of that, too, I suppose,

though, of course,
I don't write it down.

-But I know a few things.
-I bet you do.

''The Voice of Youth'',
isn't that what it says?

Oh, please...

Your by-line in the newspaper,
''The True Voice of Youth''?

That was awful. I stopped them doing it.

What a fantastic opportunity
that is, though,

to be the voice of youth.

-I would grab it if I were you.
-I'm trying to.

You know, one thing I often do...
Well, ''often'' is a lie,

one thing I occasionally do
is see myself as others see me.

Quite vividly, in fact.

-Do you ever do that?
-No.

You sure?

I'm not certain I know what you mean.

I'll tell you exactly what I mean.

When I think about myself,

most of the time I see myself as dapper.

And maybe I've got a little more energy
than some other people.

You have that, too, Mary.

And I've got a good memory
and a reasonably lively mind,

that's how I see myself.

But sometimes

I conjure up the picture
other people have of me,

what they see.

They see me as quite a slimy,
maybe treacherous fellow, sweaty,

always with little beads of sweat
on his brow,

as if I'm working too hard
to be charming,

covering what's really going on inside
and the effort shows.

Whatever the temperature of the room,
whatever the season,

they see the sweat.

Don't worry, a little party trick.

Hopefully not too many people
see me like that.

-I'm sure they don't.
-Come on.

No need to be bland with me,
Mary Gilbert,

that's not what you're famous for.

I'm quite certain you, for a start,
have viewed me like that.

-No, I'm sure I haven't.
-Don't worry.

I'm not offended in the slightest.

-I can tell you, Mr White, I...
-Please, Greville.

Please, Bernard.

I promise you,
I really promise you, I'm not offended.

And what's more,
I'm going to prove it to you.

Now.

-Prove it to me?
-By doing something I never normally do.

Telling you a few little things
that might amuse you,

since you are an observer yourself.

I never gossip as a rule...

-I'd heard.
-Oh,

so you do know something about me.

-I'd heard that.
-Yes, well, I never ever gossip.

I mean, too many useful things
would be compromised if I did.

But for you, young Mary Gilbert,

I will make an exception.

My only exception.

He told me a few little titbits.

A famous politician who was having
an affair with a minor royal

was probably the only juicy revelation.

Yet they were mostly mild,
harmless stories,

like a civil servant
who had an obsessive need

to pick people's pockets.

Not just watches and wallets,
but sometimes people's cough lozenges.

(CHUCKLING) There was a funny story

about a famous Hollywood star

who'd come over to England
to make a film and she was terrified

of Pekingese dogs,
regarded seeing them as a terrible omen.

So if she caught sight of one
on her way to the film studios

in the morning,
she would refuse to film that day.

So the film company was reduced
to hiring special dog walkers,

all with great big dogs,
to amble through the streets

near her hotel each time
she set off in the morning.

I met her once.

Apart from the business with dogs,
she was rather nice.

She swore an awful lot.
She had a charming Southern accent.

It was fascinating,
being deluged with gossip

while he made his healthy-looking salad.

He was funny and charming.

But I had no doubt, as I watched him,

I was under no illusion that,
though I was quite well-known then

and nobody outside the elite circle
knew who he was,

here was someone
who was far more powerful than me.

He does a jolly good haircut.

MARY: Someone I had to be
extremely careful of.

I've had mine done by him
more than once.

-Oh, does he charge as well?
-No, quite the opposite.

You get a glass of sherry
and some cheese biscuits.

Why is he telling me all this?

He's more than just trying
to get me into bed.

What's he really after?

-Where are you going?
-I'm going to see where it happened.

-Are you coming?
-Do we have to?

-Well, what do you think?
-It looks terrific.

It's hardly changed.
Well, that's terrible.

It's like it's been preserved.

-It should have changed more.
-Yeah.

Did you get to eat his salad?

It's funny you should ask that,
I was just thinking that very second,

I never got to taste it.

It is beautiful, isn't it? You're right.

-Yes.
-Thank you. And it is just for us two.

Just for us?

We'll never finish it.

Shall we go
and choose some wine to go with it?

-Oh, oh, you mean...
-From the cellar.

-The cellar?
-Yes, I often do that.

Mr Graham has a fantastic wine cellar,

though I'm not sure
he knows his way round it.

He frequently asks me
for recommendations,

and he lets me take a bottle home,
when I wish. One of my little perks.

Do you want to come and help me choose?

Ever written about wine?

No. I know absolutely nothing
about wine.

So, there are some things
you don't have an opinion on, then?

Of course.

There are all sorts of things
I don't know anything about, naturally.

Really? I can't believe
that's true, Mary.

Well, it is.

I see myself very much
as a beginner still.

I've been very lucky in my career.

It's good to have strong opinions.
I approve of that.

MARY: I realised he was most probably
trying to seduce me,

but, I don't know why,
I wasn't the least afraid of him.

I knew he wasn't going to
try to rape me.

And I knew

instinctively there was something else
he wanted to tell me.

And, of course, a bit of me was thinking
maybe there's a story here.

Up until 20 years ago,

the food used to come along here
from the kitchens.

Can you believe that?

I know it seems spooky down here,
but it isn't.

-It is, in fact, rather beautiful.
-Beautiful?

Maybe. In a way.

Isn't this magnificent?

Yes, it is.

Some of these bottles
are over a hundred years old.

Mr Graham bought up
other people's wine collections

and stuck them down here.

There are some real treasures
that are worth a fortune.

I persuaded him recently
to do some better labelling.

I wrote some of these myself.

-Great labels.
-Thanks.

Yes, they are rather nice.

-You know about films?
-Yes.

Well, this is a bit like something
in that fat chap upstairs' movie,

you know, Notorious,
where they go down to the wine cellar.

Cary Grant, you don't know
what he's going to discover,

and then Ingrid Bergman joins him.

Well, I'm not sure
we're going to find some uranium

down here in one of these bottles.

-And that's what Cary Grant found.
-No. Maybe not.

And here we have this.
We have a Chateau Latour 1 900,

one of the greatest wines
of the century.

And little did they know,
as they were drinking this

what a great disaster
was going to overcome them all,

the fighting, the trenches,
in just a few years.

I like doing this,

imaging what was happening
as certain wines were bottled.

A Chateau Haut Brion,
often described as a very feminine wine.

I mean, 1 929 was a truly great year.

Just as the stock markets of the world
were collapsing

and people were throwing
themselves out of buildings.

Exactly. And come here.

1 94 3, the best vintage during the war.

I mean, the connoisseur's life
very definitely didn't stop, you see.

You do know a lot about wine.

Well, I spend an awful lot of my time
in country houses

drinking the stuff, as I help them out.

Well, I wouldn't complain if I were you,
it's a nice way to spend your time.

Was I complaining?

I didn't mean to.

There's more.

Shall we, uh...
Shall we choose a bottle, then?

Maybe the one that's worth a fortune,
that would surprise them.

If we went upstairs waving that around,
having opened it.

I lied to you.

About what?

-The reason for us coming down here?
-No.

What do you take me for, Mary?

I don't normally lure young women down
into cellars to take advantage of them.

No, I lied about the stories I told you.

You mean they weren't true?

No, they were true all right,
but they were

silly, unimportant froth.

They weren't the real story, Mary.

I should have been more truthful.

Do you want to hear
the real story, Mary?

As he said that,
I could feel myself go cold.

Do you want to hear that?
The real story, Mary?

Yes.

Right.

And then he tells me a series

of what I can only call

horrific things.

He was very calm, very specific,

the year, the exact location

and, of course, all the real names.

At first I thought I could handle it.

It started with something fairly nasty,
but it was not unbearable.

About an archbishop

who thrashed little boys
till they bled and were raw.

Continued even when
he was a famous prelate.

He thrashed and thrashed them.

And then he moved on
to a famous public figure

who had apparently kept a young woman
like a slave in his house.

Degraded her in the most
horrible fashion, for year after year.

When it was over,
her own sister didn't recognise her.

There was a story
that particularly shocked me,

one he himself had directly witnessed
about a very senior politician,

somebody who had helped
lead us through the war,

watching a documentary

about the Holocaust and coming out
afterwards and saying to Greville...

''The fucking Jews,
they were really asking for it.''

That's what he said to me, Mary.

-That's... That's terrible.
-Yes.

He seemed very surprised when
I went rather quiet after he'd said it.

MARY: There were stories
of cruelty to children.

There were one or two things

so disgusting I've never been able to
get them out of my head.

I find myself thinking about them
nearly every week, even now.

Everything he told me was sordid,

and sometimes unbearably sad, too.

And I believed every word.

I don't think he was making it up.

In fact, I know he wasn't making it up.

I mean, I know

there are stories you can tell
about the powerful in any age,

I'm sure you could collect
awful things now,

but hearing them pour out, all together,
coming right at me.

It took me totally by surprise.

I liked to think of myself

as being
very sophisticated, unshockable.

But he really shocked me.

Nice life I lead.

There is a line of cruelty, Mary,
that I've watched personally,

running from before the war
right through to where we are now.

I think I'm a great witness,
the many things I've seen.

It's just I can never tell people.

-Well, why are you telling me?
-I don't know.

I really don't know
the answer to that, Mary.

Maybe you seemed a good person to tell.

The voice of youth.

And also perhaps
I wanted to tell you because...

-I wanted to show you something.
-Show me what?

Show you that even though
I know all these things,

and in one or two instances

have actually been in the house
when they happened,

I still believe
the alternative is worse.

What's the alternative?

Reducing everybody
and everything to the same level.

Letting the great unwashed
run everything.

And suddenly, he's all bright
and argumentative.

Do you agree with me, Mary?

As if after telling me
all these disgusting things

none of it mattered,

as if all he wanted was a little

dinner party political ding dong,
to take me on.

What's your view, Mary?

You're going to run away now,
aren't you?

-I think I'd better leave, don't you?
-No, I don't think you should leave.

Well, I'm going to.

We haven't chosen our bottle yet.

No, we haven't.

No, of course,
everything you've told me...

-Yes?
-Will remain completely confidential.

-Naturally.
-I won't breathe a word.

-Do I really believe that?
-Yes. You do believe that.

-If that is what you promise, Mary.
-That's what I promise.

Oh, it still looks creepy,
even with all this light on.

I suppose most basements are creepy.

Yeah, I've never seen a rat down here,
so it must be clean.

Oh, don't!

I suppose so little goes on
in the house now,

there's not much for them to eat.

All the wine, it's still here.

-Nobody drinks it?
-No.

You're thinking I should never have

come down here with him,
aren't you, Joe?

I weren't thinking that.

Would you have said no?

No, I don't think so.

(WOMEN SINGING OPERA)

MARY: I told myself
I would let everything go,

you know, let it wash away,

that by the time
I got home it would be gone.

Of course, within minutes of me
sitting there,

I realised
that wasn't going to happen because,

as soon as I was alone with my thoughts,

everything he told me
became even more vivid.

For some reason,
I started seeing this newsreel footage,

and I was thinking
all these things he's told me

are running underneath,
underneath these events.

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING)

May I have a cigarette?

MARY: And then something else
dawned on me.

Because he'd been so specific,
every date,

every name,
people that were still alive,

when he came back into the room,
I realised

he's told me all these things which
he might not have told anybody else,

so he's not going to
let go of me that easily.

Just running away from him in the cellar
isn't going to finish the business.

Let's get out of here, Joe.

I need you to lead me, Joe, I don't
know my way out of this bloody place.

-Oh, well, it's this way.
-Oh, thank you.

Oh, that's better, Joe, thank you.

I was just keeping out the winter cold.

Did you get away from him?
Away from this man?

Well, that was my intention, Joe,

and for that to be possible,
I knew I needed to see him again.

I would act so vague when I saw him,

so forgetful,
he'll realise he has no hold over me.

I mean, I knew he could still do me
professional harm, if he chose.

It was the first time

I'd been invited
to spend the night here.

We'd been to Wimbledon
to see the tennis.

In the morning,
we were going down the river.

As always,
there was a small group of guests,

they were all very famous,

but no Greville White.

Mr Graham's theme for the evening
seemed to be Edwardian Music Hall.

The house was ringing
with these old songs.

WOMAN: # Tick tock, it stopped

# Short

# Never to go again
when the old man died

# It rang an alarm
In the dead of the night... #

MARY: I was feeling very excited,
I remember.

I'd just been given
an important assignment,

a series of articles in America.

It would be my first visit there.

# Still the clock kept the time

# With a soft and muffled chime

# And we silently stood by his side

# But it stopped, short

# Never to go again
when the old man died #

Mr Graham, it's been a fantastic day,
thank you.

I'm heading to America soon. I'm going
to do a few articles out there.

-How wonderful.
-Yes, a fantastic opportunity.

I'm only going for a short time,
but I'm very excited.

-Good night.
-Good night.

# I have a song to sing, O!

# What is your song, O?

# It is sung with the ring of
the songs maids sing #

# Who loved with a love life-long-o

# It's a song of a merry maid
peerly proud

# Who loved a lord and who laughed aloud

# At the moan of the merry man
moping mum

# Whose soul was sad
and whose glance was glum

# Who sipped no sup
and who craved no crumb

# As he sighed for the love of a lady

# Hey-di, hey-di

# Misery me, lack-a-day-de

# His pains were o'er
and he sighed no more

# For he lived in the love of a lady #

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING)

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

-Who is it?
-It's me, Greville.

I don't need to come in,
I've just got something here for you.

I thought you might like
some strawberries.

I missed the tennis,
but I brought the strawberries.

It's clotted cream, do you want some?

Thank you, that's very kind.
I'll have a spoonful.

It's all right, I don't need to come in.

-You look really well.
-Thank you. I am.

I just wanted to say, Mary,
about the last time we saw each other...

Oh, yes, when you made that big salad.

Yes, there was the salad.

And then there was what I told you.

Oh, yes, was it something...
Was it about a film star and dogs?

Yes, that was part of it,
amongst other things.

I just want to explain
why I told you those things...

-No, no, you don't have to.
-Please.

I just wanted to say
I really didn't mean to upset you.

Was I upset? No.

-No, I don't think so.
-Right. That's good.

I'm glad you weren't.

# The boy I love

# Is up in the gallery

# The boy I love

# Is looking at me

# There he is, can't you see... #

Sorry, eating these like this
just reminded me of something.

Since I didn't upset you last time,

I'll risk one more,
one more little image.

-Please, it's late and I'm...
-No, no, no, this is tiny.

It's funny, not like the other ones.

I was in a private room
in a gentleman's club,

the Beefsteak Club.

A group of us were trying out,
for reasons I don't remember,

a series of ghastly
over-sweet Greek puddings,

with names like ''galaktoboureko'',
and they were so sticky.

It was like eating glue.

There must be a new cook, mustn't there?

We've had the same six puddings
for the last 20 years.

(ALL LAUGHING)

And as we were trying
to unstick ourselves,

these men were saying,
very senior figures in the government,

''You know how I hate niggers,

''but we are going to have to give them
something, especially in Africa.''

And somebody else was saying,

''The niggers will never be able to
run anything. It's madness. ''

I mean, it was very standard stuff,
but as they talked,

they were all fiddling with their teeth.

Their mouths were literally
being gummed up.

Why are you telling me this?

Well, I thought you'd like that image,
these men sitting around,

''I hate the niggers,''
all this syrup in their mouths.

And did you agree with them?

I didn't say that, did I?

Thank you for the strawberries.

-I really must go to bed now.
-Of course.

I just have one other thing
I want to give you.

-No, no, it's late, and I really...
-Please.

Just let me for a moment.
I know you think I'm a snob, Mary...

I really don't know
what you think or believe and I...

-I don't need to know.
-I like taste, refinement.

I really value that.
I don't think that's a crime.

And the idea of everything
being reduced to total mediocrity,

to the lowest common denominator,
that does terrify me.

-I hate the common herd.
-So, you must hate me then, mustn't you?

Because that's where I'm from.

You really imagine I'd be here
if that's what I felt?

Is that what you think of me, Mary?

I'd be really disappointed
if that's what you thought of me.

MARY: I had my chance then.

I could tell him
what I thought of him now.

I so wish
I could have found the words, Joe.

I often think of that moment,

imagine it again, in my head,
and when I do that,

I really demolish him.
I'm incredibly eloquent.

But I was a very young woman,

and there was this older man
playing some strange game with me.

I don't think I did too badly.

You want to know
what I think of you, Greville?

Well, I think you're a bit sad.

Sad? In what way?

For some reason, you see me as a threat.

You know, a threat to your nice life
and your country houses.

Why on earth you should think that,
I don't know.

You know, maybe it's because I'm young,

and a woman, of course,

and you think I don't show
enough respect or something.

And you want to stop me being a threat.

And that's rather sad, don't you think?

Spending so much energy
over somebody like me.

Thank you for the strawberries and um...
and good night.

Right.

If that is what you feel,
you probably won't want this then.

-But I really would urge you to take it.
-I don't want it, whatever it is.

Please, look inside,
and then I'll go, I promise.

What is this?
The key to the wine cellar?

It's the key to my house.

To your house?

Yes, and it doesn't mean
what you think it does.

No, whatever it means, I don't want it.

And this isn't a trick
or some cheap gesture.

I want you to have the imagination
to accept it, the key to my house.

You can come there whenever you want.
You can visit just once or many times.

Just drop by, let yourself in,

either alone or with a friend.

Why on earth would I want to do that?

There are all sorts of things
in that house

that I've collected over many years,
over my whole life!

If I happen to be there
when you come by,

I wouldn't try to touch you.

I would never attempt to be your lover.

Greville, that really is too strange.

I really would urge you
not to refuse straight away.

How many of these do you hand out
to girls each season?

That is unkind, Mary.
I had that specially made for you.

And you won't believe me,
but I've never done this before.

-I thought we might help each other.
-Help each other?

-In what way?
-In all sorts of ways.

-What does that mean?
-Professionally, of course.

That goes without saying.

And in other ways, too.

-Help each other understand the world.
-Good night, Greville.

Don't give it back to me now,
think about it overnight at least.

I've thought about it.

He didn't come bursting back in, did he?

Or he didn't knock the door down,
come rushing at you?

No. No, Joe,
he was a bit cleverer than that.

I can still feel that night.

How warm it was.

How good I felt in that dress.

But I was bloody nervous
after he'd gone,

with that creepy key.

I thought, I'll leave very early,

get away from this house,
get on with my life.

Never come back.

WOMAN: Hello, Mary.

I've got a letter for you.

-A letter for me?
-Yes.

From Greville.

-It's very early.
-Yes, it is, isn't it?

Sometimes I love to get up early.

I don't think
we've been properly introduced.

-I'm Mary Gilbert.
-And I'm Liza Henton.

There, now we've done it properly.

She looked so beautiful
I couldn't help thinking,

''Does he have sex with this girl?''

Does he keep several of them
in his house?

I mean, did it all start
with them being given keys?

-Thank you.
-He said that you should read it now,

and that I should wait to see
if there was a reply.

-I'll read it when I get home.
-He said if you could open it now.

And then, I suddenly thought,

what if it's the key again
and I have accepted it,

you know, unwittingly?

Why don't you just open it?

-No need to be nervous.
-No.

I assure you, I am not nervous.

GREVILLE: My dear Mary,
you disappointed me last night.

You should have taken the key.

Liza has handed you this letter,
and just look at her.

Does she appear in any way
frightened of me?

Why don't you ask her about me?

Please come out for dinner
with me tonight,

so we can settle our differences,
and part friends.

It would be a much better way for us
to end things.

Thank you for waiting. There's no reply.

-No reply at all?
-No.

(DOOR SLAMMING)

MARY: For a few days
nothing at all happened.

I thought I'd got rid of him.

Life was going on as normal.

But then my trip to America
was cancelled.

They said to me, my bosses,

they'd decided
the timing wasn't quite right.

And a few months later,
my contract wasn't renewed.

I was told my style of journalism,

you know, the voice of youth,
was no longer in fashion.

I mean, I wasn't too disturbed.

I felt I could get a job
on any national newspaper

after the success I had but

one by one, for a whole variety
of reasons, they said no.

I heard that I was meant to be
very difficult

and unreliable

and greedy!

I realised Greville was behind it,
of course.

He was friendly
with the newspaper proprietors

and knew a lot
about their personal lives, too.

Well, didn't you find Greville,
make him do something, or...

No, I didn't, Joe.

I just thought, well, what the hell?

I've saved a little money,

I need a break, you know,
I'll go abroad...

Travel.

And write another book.

And I did travel, Joe.

I had a few love affairs,

one of which was great fun,
but I wasn't doing much writing.

So, one day, I decided to come home.

And I came back here.

I was going out with a young painter
at that time,

and he'd become very fashionable,

and he was invited by Mr Graham,

and my lover said to me, you know,
''Why don't you come?''

And I thought, why not?

If Greville happens to be there,

which seems highly unlikely
after all this time,

I mean, what can he do to me now?

He can do nothing.

And I thought, you know,
maybe I could do something to him.

Be devastating, you know, be witty,
reduce him to a little heap.

It's so different!

MARY: Mr Graham had torn out
the beautiful conservatory

and built this horrible modern room,

you know, in an attempt to be with it.

-Hello, how are you?
-WOMAN: I'm okay, how are you?

Yeah, I'm fine actually.

MAN: You know, she used to write
some really racy stuff, didn't you?

-What do you mean, ''used to''?
-And some quite heavy stuff, too.

-She can really write, this one.
-Oh, that's good to know!

-See you in a while.
-Okay. Speak to you later.

-WOMAN: Where have you been?
-Oh, I've been abroad.

In the sun, you know, working,
of course, writing and planning.

WOMAN: And what have you been planning?

Well, I'm planning
a trilogy of books about now.

-And what is the title of the books?
-The title, well...

I think the title will definitely
have the word ''change'' in it,

something about change.
Or else, I was thinking...

And there he was. Quite suddenly.

Right there,

all trussed up in a waistcoat,
though it was summer.

He seemed like he was from another age,

like one of his wines.

Trying to weave his spell
as he worked the room.

And soon we will be nostalgic
for glamour again,

long dresses and the funny old
conservatory that used to be here.

You don't see faces coming towards you
any more, just an army of legs.

It's the same with these new movies.

People don't want their noses
rubbed along the kitchen floor.

Who is that guy?

Oh, that's just somebody
I used to know a long time ago.

We once nearly shared a salad
in this very house.

And we...

We did eat
some strawberries together, too.

With clotted cream.

Squalid piece of work.
I thought it was depressing.

Oh, God!
Oh, God, it is an ugly room, isn't it?

Didn't you go up to him at this party?
Didn't you say something?

You should have got hold of him,
yanked him in front of people.

Did you do that?

Did you say, ''You fucking prick!

''You done this to me,
now you fucking do something about it

''and get me my job back!''

-I didn't say that, Joe, no.
-You didn't?

-I couldn't.
-Well, why not?

Don't get impatient with me,
Joe, please.

Sorry. I didn't mean to shout.

I just want you to get this fucker,
that's all.

It wasn't going to be easy, Joe.

Everything had moved on
while I'd been on my travels.

I was wearing the right clothes,
of course, but inside...

I felt a stranger.

It really pays to be
in the vanguard of things, Joe,

to be one of the first.

You're superseded very quickly.

But much more important than that,
I wasn't there in my own right.

I was just with my boyfriend.

I was thinking,
I used to be invited here

when I was a fashionable writer.

I just want to talk to somebody
over there. I'll be back.

-Don't be long.
-Okay.

GREVILLE: People want
fantasy and stories,

beautiful worlds to escape to.

I mean, that's always been the case
and always will.

And very sad, because writers tell us
how to live our lives.

Can't go wrong with Turkish Delight,

and probably Turks
have never even heard of it.

Sorry, I'm just gabbling.

Excuse me.

Something happened at this party

that had a big effect on me.

I mean, a lot of what they say
is new about these movies

has, in fact, been done
loads of times before.

Greville likes to talk, doesn't he?

GREVILLE: Done by people
who were true artists,

and that is why their work hasn't dated.

Unlike this new breed now,

who are addicted to gimmicks
and the latest fad.

MARY: And this man suddenly piped up...

That's complete crap!

Everything you said
is just such utter bollocks!

MARY: He'd no respect for this older man
in a waistcoat.

He just gave it to him and went.

What a charming young man.

Fascinating that he wanted
to share his opinions with us.

MARY: I thought,
''I should have done that.

''Why don't I do that to Greville?''

And then, of course, I realised

I could never talk to Greville
like that.

Brutal and rude, I don't know.

I just, maybe because
I belonged to another time, I...

I don't know why I couldn't.

Because I was afraid.

I couldn't even go up to him
at that party.

He's looking
for someone else to talk to,

to engage with, and I'm almost hiding!

And then,

he looks at me.

He looks across at me,

and though he didn't say anything,
I could hear him saying...

But you're still mine.

But you're still mine, aren't you, Mary?

I tried not to run,

not to look
like I was fleeing his presence.

I didn't want to creep out
of there either,

but I got away from this house
as quick as I could.

What, you left here
without saying anything to him?

That's right. I left him looking for me.

But you did speak to him again,
didn't you?

Go on.

MARY: For a few months,

or maybe a year,

I sunk myself into my love affair

with the artist.

He was getting really successful,

almost famous.

But he was very careful with money,

extremely mean, in fact.

So for a time we lived in this bedsit,

and he disappeared for days on end
to his studio.

When he wasn't painting,
he was thinking deep thoughts.

He had an awful lot of deep thoughts,
it seems.

None of which I ever got to hear.

And the room was just crammed
with his things,

as well as his thoughts.

And I started having a little tipple
at various moments of the day.

I found it helped the creative flow.

Shit! Fuck!

Oh, I nearly cut myself!

Stepped on
one of your bloody wine glasses!

I told you so many times,
don't leave glasses on the floor, okay?

It's a real pigsty in here!

You have to clear it all up,
you understand?

Yeah, I understand.

I'll write it down a hundred times,
''It's a real pigsty in here.''

And then
what are you going to do about it?

-What am I going to do about it?
-Yes.

Well, maybe I'll start by making a list

of all the things of yours
I'm not allowed to throw out.

''What are you doing, Mary?
You've moved the cornflake packet.''

When have I ever said that?

You always say things like that!

I mean, just the other day
you accused me of throwing out

that stupid little green cloth

you're forever wiping
the gramophone with.

Just clean the place up, okay?

After all, you've got the time,
haven't you?

What, unlike you, you mean?

Yes.
I don't know what you do all day, Mary.

I was beginning to write again,
another attempt at a novel.

Outside all sorts of new things
were happening

and I thought I should be able
to catch them, describe them.

But the funny thing was

it didn't matter whether
I started the story on a train,

or in the desert,
or outside Buckingham Palace...

it always, always led back to the cellar

and Greville.

(CHURCH BELLS RINGING)

One day, I started to write
directly on a typewriter.

Up till then, I'd always done
the first draft in longhand.

It was a nice day.

There were church bells
outside the window,

somebody was getting married
down the street.

And I was flying,

absolutely flying with my story.

(PING-PONG BALL BOUNCING)

(GROANING)

And then I wasn't flying any more.

Every time this happened,

my confidence
took a further little knock.

When you have success,

without really thinking about it,
when you're very young

and you're not quite sure
how you did all that,

your confidence can go amazingly quickly
when things go wrong.

Escape wasn't proving easy, Joe.

I knew a lot of people, you know,
friends, acquaintances,

who'd become successful round that time

and then destroyed themselves
with drink and drugs.

And I decided I was definitely
not going to be one of them.

-Try my hardest.
-Good.

-I pulled myself together.
-Great!

Yeah, I started going out again,

attending private views
with my boyfriend.

(PSYCHEDELIC MUSIC PLAYING)

Of course, I realised
that there was a slight chance

I might see Greville,

but I was ready for it.

Well, yeah, because you ain't spoken
to him about him getting you fired.

-I hadn't, no.
-Oh, you gotta speak to him about that.

That's right.

So at one particular private view,
being held at a house in the country,

I was sitting there with my boyfriend.

We'd been breaking up for months,
only we'd been doing it in slow motion,

a little bit each week.

On this particular night,
what we were saying to each other was...

It was fairly terminal.

Maybe it's because I need more space.

I think I really do need
a lot more space.

He was too mean to buy more space,
so he had to kick me out instead.

Naturally, I wasn't slow
in pointing this out.

You know what, Zach?

The other day, I was trying to think
of the last thing you bought me,

any, any kind of present.
You know what it was?

A single pink balloon
to celebrate my birthday.

I don't believe in birthdays.
Never have.

-Now, why doesn't that surprise me?
-But I know what you'd like.

What would I like?

You'd like a crate of vodka delivered
at the beginning of every week.

You'd wake up,
there it would be at the end of the bed.

Once a week?
That certainly wouldn't be enough.

So there we were, right in the middle
of our break-up,

and there...

there was Greville.

Hello. I saw you at the Glyn-Parrys,
in August?

You don't remember?

I think we were sitting
quite near each other.

MARY: He was dressed
in his usual old-fashioned way,

almost defiantly
out of keeping with the times.

He keeps avoiding catching my eye.

I mean, he knows I'm there.
I know he's seen me, but he...

He won't look at me.

You know, he's smiling
and trying to gossip with people.

Did you enjoy the exhibition?

Tell me, were they meant to be
people or fruit?

-What?
-The shapes.

They looked like fruit to me.

But somebody said
they were meant to be people.

MARY: And Liza was there as well.
She was dressed very oddly, too.

Almost like her mother might have been.

I'm having a party in my little flat
in Kensington in a few weeks,

I do hope you'll come.

MARY: She was still very young,
and yet she looked so out of place.

Apparently, there are only
1 2 interesting people in London,

and so it will have to be a very tiny
gathering, as you can imagine.

But you are one of them.

Hello. Did you get my letter?

The post is terrible, isn't it?
Well, I've had an idea for a book.

I was wondering
if we could talk about it?

It's a memoir, really.

I think it would make
quite a lively read.

The time I spent
with Lloyd George and Churchill.

Yes, I worked on Churchill's papers.

I got to know him quite well.
I got drunk with him, actually.

MARY: It was like their joke
on the world,

you know, this strange couple
weaving some sort of spell.

I must take you out for a meal.

MARY: It wasn't really working any more.

I think you'll be surprised,
in more ways than one.

Give me a ring.

MARY: But it's like he knew
his power was on the wane.

(SIGHS)

The great newspaper proprietors
he was close to were now dead.

He didn't have
nearly so many influential friends.

He was standing very straight,

you know, like he was determined
not to be engulfed by this new world.

This world he had first sensed,
maybe, when he met me.

I was almost relishing
watching him like that,

and I was thinking about Liza.

Yes, yes, he was rather interesting...

MARY: Was that
what he'd wanted me to become?

...an interesting person
to my interesting party.

Was he one of the 1 2
most interesting men in London?

Apparently, yes. Yes.

What number does that make me, I wonder?

Well, of course,
you're number one, Greville!

MARY: And then their car draws up
and they both get in.

I'm feeling almost relaxed now.
They're going,

and nothing has happened.

Nothing bad has occurred at all.

And I remember so clearly watching
them together in the back of the car.

The car draws off.

And then, he stares straight at me.
He mouths...

Help me!

Help me!

''Help me, Mary!''

Help me, Mary!

Help me!

It wasn't a pathetic cry,Joe.
Quite the reverse.

It was terrifying.

Help me, Mary.

Help me.

And then I never saw him again, Joe.

What?

-You didn't?
-No.

You never ever said anything
about what he'd done to you?

No.

You didn't ring him up or anything
and say,

''Why should I help you?
You did this terrible thing to me.''

No.

I didn't see him again, Joe.

Until today.

-Today?
-I saw him today.

But, well, he must be old, mustn't he?

I mean, it's a long time ago.
He must be an incredibly old man.

You would have thought so,
wouldn't you, Joe?

What do you mean?

Where did you see him?

MARY: I often go for a walk in the park
in the morning.

And usually it's all right,
alone with one's thoughts,

planning the next day.

GREVILLE: Mary!

Mary!

I didn't hear my name again,
so I just got on with my walk.

And I'm dimly aware of this figure
just a little further on,

keeping pace with me,
walking along another path.

He didn't seem to be looking at me.

I realised, you know,
he must have been calling somebody else.

You know, I get to my usual spot.

I often sit there for a few minutes.

GREVILLE: Mary.

Mary.

And I thought,
''Looks terribly like Greville.

''No, that's impossible,
because he's not old. ''

And Greville was much older than me.

No. No, it must be somebody else.

Now, I know what you're thinking,
it was the drink.

This drink, in fact.
And, of course, you could be right, Joe.

Because this isn't a ghost story. No.

No, this is worse than a ghost story.

For me, anyway.

Why?

Well, what happened?
Did he come any closer?

It's very important,

because of what happens next,
for you to understand.

I don't usually sit in the park in
the morning feeling sorry for myself.

I hate the idea.

I haven't spent
all these years in self-pity.

-Do you follow that, Joe?
-Yeah.

I mean, I had rebuilt, you know,
a sort of career for myself

after the setbacks caused by Greville.

You know, I've written for magazines

about gardening and lifestyle
and antiques.

I've been able to
earn a reasonable living.

You know, many people would think
I'd been lucky to lead such a life.

-Do you understand me, Joe?
-Yeah, I do.

I thought it was you, Mary.

What are you doing here?

All on your own?

I always thought if I saw you again,
it would be in this park,

and you would be on your own.

MARY: I couldn't speak,

but he seemed to sense
what I was thinking.

I am not alone, in fact.

MARY: I peered at them.

Could one of them have been Liza?

GREVILLE: How's it been, Mary?

Everything you hoped?

Silly girl.

If it was an hallucination,
it was a very sustained one.

Suddenly, he was close.

I kept looking for your name.
I could never find it.

I've had some painful things
happen to me, too.

We could have helped each other.

Like I said.

All you could think
was that I wanted to catch you,

control you.

Where have you been all this time, Mary?

Where is the bright young girl?

I can see no sign of her.

No sign at all.

MARY: The very first thing I thought
about after he'd gone, it was funny,

it was I suddenly understood

why he was always there
at Mr Graham's parties.

I realised right then

it must have been because he knew
something about Mr Graham's past.

For a moment, I was quite excited to
have worked that out.

But then,

I started thinking
the worst possible thoughts.

What might have been.

How stupid I was

to think I could take on that world
when I was so very young.

If only I'd been 1 0 years older,
or been born

a few years later,

when things were different.

A young woman in that house.

It shouldn't ever have happened.

And I've never been able to
shake it off, all this time.

How idiotic is that?

And I was thinking, too,

have I used what happened with Greville
as an excuse, my whole life,

for the loss of my talent?

I remembered his party trick
of seeing yourself as others see you.

And all the time,

there was this sensation

like the lights being turned down.

Things closing in, shutting down.

Suddenly, I found it
difficult to breathe.

It was an utterly horrible feeling,Joe.

(SOBBING)

Anyway, it was disgraceful, Joe,
my exhibition.

You know,

crying for one's youth.

What a useless thing to do.

I ran away.

I ran away from the park.

But at least

that feeling

of things shutting down,

of it all ending,

I fought that.

He didn't manage that.

And somehow, I managed to come here.

Something I've been thinking about
for years,

to come back here,

confront the place.

Today,

after the park,

I just walked straight here.

It seemed the obvious thing to do.

And you were kind enough to let me in.

-You came to see if he was here?
-To see if I could get rid of a ghost.

Which isn't a ghost, of course.

Not a proper ghost.

And have you?

Have you?

-I'm sorry, Joe, I have to go now.
-Well, you have, haven't you?

Got rid of him?

Yes.

Promise me?

Yes. Uh, don't bother to show me out,
Joe, I know the way.

I've just got to get out of this house!

-Are you going to the park tomorrow?
-Yeah, I might do.

Can I come, too?

-See where it happened?
-See if he's still there, you mean?

-1 1 :00, hope I turn up.
-Which park?

But you ain't told me which park!

Kensington Gardens.

(DOOR SLAMMING)

JOE: She'd given me the time
and the park,

but not where she'd be.

I looked and looked for her.

I didn't find her.

And then, at last,
just when I was going,

there she was.

Hello, Joe.

Here I am. You didn't think I'd come.

JOE: We walked in silence.

She didn't seem to want to talk.

I don't know what she was thinking.

Oh, is this the spot?

Yeah, this is the spot.

JOE: I still didn't know what to say.

So I didn't say anything.

You can go now, Joe.

Thank you for staying.

It's okay.

It'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

-You helped me.
-Right.

But I just need to be on my own now.

You can leave, Joe. It's okay.

I promise.

JOE: So, I left her there.

And she did seem better,

I think.

She was sitting there
looking quite elegant,

reading a book, when I left her.

I keep thinking about her.

Things I still want to ask.

I'll go back tomorrow to the park,

but I expect she won't be there.

There was something about her.

I like that lady.

I hope she never sees him again.