All language subtitles for Any Human Heart Episode #1.3_EN

I only believe in the love
of one particular woman.

Do you think we've got time
for a five-minute quickie?

It's the best idea I've heard all day.
What about a two-minute quickie?

It's the best idea I've heard all day. What
about a two-minute quickie? Mmm... mmph!

Logan, these paintings,
they'll put me in a

position I never I'd reach
in my wildest dreams.

I couldn't be happier.

There will be war with Germany.

We have solved this horrible,
horrible murder in under 48 hours

and I will not have some junior
officer stand in my way.

Don't worry, we'll
get you you, Judas!

Don't cry, silly Daddy.

I'd rather you were rotting in
prison than beguiling Nazis.

What is this place?

Prison for the Swiss
intelligence agency.

Prison for the Swiss intelligence agency.
I need to get a message to London.

I am not Uruguayan. My name is
Logan Mountstuart, I am British.

Somebody should have
told you, love,

about the rocket, the V2
at the end of last year.

This programme contains strong
language and scenes of nudity.

'Any day is a good day
to start a journal,

'to promise again to tell the truth,
the whole, nothing but, et cetera.

'Gaps don't matter. It's the
writing down that counts.

'So, ten years on,
let's start again.

'Health - good. Tell
the truth, Logan!

'Health - middling.
Drinking too much.

'Not enough exercise.

'Job - running the New
York gallery for Ben.

'No real writing to speak of.
Sex-life?

'Active, yet conservative.

'State of mind?

'A life is all about luck. In
the end, that's all there is.

'All the good luck and the
bad luck you've had.'

TELEPHONE RINGS

Yes?

'Mr Tate is waiting for you.'

Nat!

Perfect timing,
I've just sold it.

$5,000.

5,000?

My God, all that money.

Cheer up, for goodness' sake.

I need... I need water. I can't
keep up with you, Logan.

Nonsense.

We're celebrating.

I'm looking for Mrs Mountstuart.

You've found her, buddy.

What's the present for?

Second anniversary.

Well, it's original.

And guess what? I
don't have one.

It's symbolic.

Your second anniversary is
your cotton anniversary.

You should have bought me a
cotton plantation, then, honey.

You should have bought
me a cotton plantation,

then, honey. Actually,
Logan, you're wrong.

Your second anniversary is
your china anniversary.

In England, it's your
cotton anniversary.

In case you hadn't noticed,
you live in America.

In case you hadn't
noticed, you live in

America. Who is this child?
Have herremoved!

Off to bed, young lady.

No. I want to tell Logan a joke.

For your anniversary.
Please, Mom.

Well, it's got to
be a one-liner.

OK.

Logan, how do you recite
the alphabet in Brooklyn?

I have no idea.

Fuckin' A, fuckin' B, fuckin' C.

Logan, please, don't
encourage her.

Here is my one-liner
- bed, now, go.

Here is my one-liner
- bed, now, go.

Good night, Mom.
Good night, Logan.

She'll go far, that girl.

Logan...

Gail might come back in.

Thank you for my handkerchief.

I have something a
little less original.

I don't feel like it
tonight, darling.

How do you know? I haven't
even started yet.

How do you know? I haven't even
started yet. I just don't.

And I don't want you
to be disappointed.

And to think I gave you
a cotton handkerchief.

Maybe tomorrow.

I'll make an appointment.

Maybe she just doesn't
have your sex drive.

It was our anniversary.

Don't be so traditional.
It's 1955.

Maybe that's why I'm here. My wife wanted
me to do something modern and American.

I get the feeling that you're
not buying into this process.

Oh, give me time. Only been
living here a few years.

Why did you marry Allanah?

Because she's sexy, smart...

um... she's got a good
job in television.

She was a widow, I'm a widower.

A sweet young girl.

She said she loved me. What's not
to like, as they say over here?

Tell me about your
suicide attempt.

How do you know about that?

Your wife mentioned it.

'Sorry... sorry... sorry...'

It doesn't matter.

It happens.

Clearly, you didn't succeed.

She'd forgotten her lighter.

Came back to get it.
Fortunately.

And she gave it to
me, for good luck.

Do you still think
about suicide?

Obviously, it's on your mind.

Actually, I'm turning
into a bit of a voyeur.

There's a girl in an apartment
across from the office where I work

and she... she wanders
around with no clothes on.

I even bought a
pair of binoculars.

Do you masturbate while
you're watching?

Oh, please.

Is she pretty?

Sort of.

Stacked?

Well, I find that to
be completely normal.

We're done.

I will see you next week.

Oh, I can't make next week,
I've got to go to London.

Yeah? Why? Work, vacation?

Compassionate leave. My
mother's not very well.

BIRDSONG

DOORBELL RINGS

Logan!

She go this morning. I say, "Wait
for Logan," but she go to God.

DOOR CLOSES

Hello. How do you do?

Pimlico's very up and coming.
Lots of amenities.

It's an investment. I was left some money.
I don't plan on living here, I'll take it.

Now the kitchen is a little on the small
side, but it's functional. Easy to clean.

It'll do fine, I'll take it.

Bricks and mortar, sir...

I'll... take it.

My mother would have
liked it here, Cyprien.

For her taste, though.

Oh, God, yes. Flaunt it when you have it.
Not that she had it for long.

I do enjoy our cosmopolitan
dinners, Logan,

and I bless that little book
of yours, The Cosmopolitans.

It's still running
this wave you started

that I'm standing on it on my surfboard
and waving to everyone saying,

"Yes, of course it's me."

"Yes, of course it's
me." I couldn't be

happier for you, Cyprien.
I really couldn't.

My agent begged me
not to write it.

What do they know?

Anyhow, I am in
your debt, Logan,

and I buy you dinner here in London
once in a while, it's nothing.

Really nothing.

Excuse me. Are you
Logan Mountstuart?

Yes, yes, I am.

I'm Gloria Scabius,
Peter's wife.

I've seen 100 photographs.

My God! You're Gloria?

He talks about you all the time.

Don't move an inch.

Who is she?

She... friend's wife. His third.

Ooh, la-la. It's the
most dangerous.

I don't bloody believe it!

I'm Gloria.

Logan's novel was a revelation to me.
What was it called?

Girls at play?

No, The Girl Factory.

That's it and I, suddenly,
out of the blue,

I saw how it could be done.

And you've never looked
back, have you, darling?

So you owe all your fabulous
success to me, Peter?

Very droll, Logan. Let's
have another drink.

Are you still writing?

Um, mainly art criticism.

Mmm. Fascinating.

I'll leave you two
laddies to reminisce.

Lovely to meet you.

Lovely to meet you. Yes.

Cyprien.

I must go, too.

I'm going to call you tomorrow.

I'm going to call you tomorrow.
Don't overdo it, darling.

We've got a plane to catch tomorrow. See
you in half an hour, yes? Half an hour.

Amazing woman, Logan. Fucks like
a stoat, but bloody dangerous.

'16th March, 1944. I leave on the
mission to Switzerland in an hour.

'Freya's convinced I'll
meet a buxom Swiss

milkmaid, fall in love
and never come back.

'I told her milkmaids
weren't my type.'

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

Good morning.

Thank you for coming.

I wouldn't have missed it.

Very good to meet you. Glad to see
Peter, he's doing fantastically well.

He's flying off to
South Africa tonight

to do research on his
next interminable novel.

I thought I might take a holiday
in Europe while he's away.

Yes, right... Good idea.

But I'd need a
travelling companion.

Interested?

I'm a married man.

I'm a married woman.
What could be safer?

Or better?

Why me?

I don't know, exactly.

I think it's because I'm
very curious about you.

You know, when you hear so much about
a person, then you finally meet them?

It just came to me,
last night in that bar.

In a split second.

Well, I'm very
flattered, I must say.

But you notice neither of
us said "happily married".

Why don't we do a trial run?
A boff de politesse, hmm?

See how we like each other.

That was all very satisfactory.

You're hired.

Thank you.

Well, you can have no
idea how grateful I am.

You certainly do live
in a very frugal way.

I haven't started buying
furniture for it yet.

It's an investment really.

I'll get it redecorated,
don't worry.

It's very useful, at least.

I'm glad you bought
the bed, first.

I was thinking about our holiday.
How about Capri?

That will be lovely.

Only a few days though.

Perfect.

I'll call you tonight, once
I've seen Peter on the plane.

Have you a telephone
in this hovel?

I have.

Pimlico 4455.

Hmm. Even I can remember that.

We'll have fun.

I know we will.

Thank you.

You must stop saying
"Thank you" all the time.

You're making me feel
like a social worker.

Sorry.

I'll never leave Peter.

I'm very glad to hear it.

I phoned Alannah to tell her
I had to stay on in Europe.

Had to travel a bit
and meet new artists.

Time spent with Gloria
would be good for me.

A change from Alannah

and a change is as good
as a rest, so they say.

No.

We're going to Madrid.

Weather's better in Madrid.

We're going to Barcelona.

We're going to Madrid.

Barcelona.

Madrid.

Ow!

Ow!

I didn't know the place
meant quite so much to you.

Barcelona it is.

You'll be eternally grateful.

However,

any more violence like that and
you won't see me for dust.

Don't be silly.

We're having too much fun.

It's meant to be good luck, isn't
it, if you see a shooting star?

Are you happy, Logan?

Cos I'm not so sure you are...

Look for a speck of light,
travelling in a straight line.

It doesn't twinkle.

So a non-twinkling star?

Exactly.

There it is!

I see it!

I can see it, Logan!

Ha! Well done, you!

Ha! There it is.

My god.

I keep wondering about that
poor little dog on board.

What must he be thinking?

Yes. It's not exactly part
of your dog-world, is it?

Hurtling through space
in a steel ball.

Can't be very happy.

You never answered my question.

Are you happy, Logan?

Course I am.

That's a silly question.

I couldn't be happier lying on the
roof with you, looking for Sputnik.

No, I mean, are you
and Mom happy?

We're very happy, darling.

I'll be back at noon.

Remember we've got lunch
with Ted and Junie.

Oh, fabulous.

You're drinking already.

It's only beer.

It's only 9.30.

Why not have a martini?
Go for it.

It's Sunday morning,
for God's sake.

Got to have some
pleasure in life.

Go fuck yourself.

I'd rather do that than fuck you.
The chance would be a fine thing.

An affair?

Anyone I know?

Have you met her? Gloria?

Peter's new wife.

What the fuck are you playing at?
History repeating itself, eh?

There's no plan. Things
are just happening to me.

There's no plan. Things are
just happening to me. Bullshit.

You're going to have
to move on, you know.

One of these days.

Stop competing with him.

Come on, Ben.

He won that race ages ago.

Still, revenge is sweet.

Oh, I know, I know.

Because Freya died,
I married Alannah.

Because Alannah can't be Freya,
I can't be happy with her,

so I look elsewhere.

This is all Freya's fault?

Yes...

Yes, it is.

The world knows

that there is no reason for
a crisis over Berlin today.

But if one develops, it will be

caused by the Soviet Union and
their Government's attempt to

invade the rights of others
and manufacture tension.

That was President John F
Kennedy responding to the

world crisis in Berlin.

The writer Ernest Hemingway has
died aged 61, in Ketchum, Idaho.

Shot gun found at the scene.

Mr Hemingway is believed
to have committed suicide.

It's like I always say.

The day I cease to
enjoy life, Logan.

Adios, planet earth.

..followed by the Nobel Prize
in Literature in 1954...

Shit.

Having written such classics, "The Sun
Also Rises", "For Whom The Bell Tolls"...

It's a wonderful piece.
Enjoy it.

Sorry, darling.

Thought it was someone else.

I suppose you think
that's funny?

It's the way I tell them.

We have to talk, Logan.

Of course I'm not
going to divorce you.

Yes, you will.

You're a drunk.

You pour liquor down
your throat all day.

And I don't want you home
with my daughter any more.

Don't be ridiculous.

I'm perfectly capable of...

And I've been seeing someone
for the last two years.

Ah...

Ah, now I get it.

Right.

Who is he? Anyone I know?

His name is Paul Strang.

He's a colleague at CBS.

We're in love. I
want to marry him.

No.

No, you can fucking forget it.

There is nothing...

There's nothing you can
do about it, Logan.

I'm not here to negotiate.

I'm here to tell you
what's happening.

Can I see Gail?

No. I don't think that
would be appropriate.

We're moving out of the
apartment next week.

I'll let you know
when we've gone.

So... tell me how you feel?

How do I feel?

I feel completely sodomised by that
calculating, manipulative bitch.

She's been fucking her
colleague for two years

and all she does is complain
about my fucking drinking.

I just... I just miss Stella, you know?
I miss seeing her.

Got to find a way to see her.
She writes to me, at least.

You mean Gail.

Yes.

Gail? What did I say, Stella?

Yeah, you did.

Maybe you should look at your
motivation a little more closely.

What exactly drew you
into this marriage?

Mother or child? Maybe you
have another agenda here.

Yeah, let me... Let me ask
you a question, Dr Byrne.

What is your professional
discipline, hmm?

Is it Freudian? Or is it Jungian?
Or is it Reichian?

Hmm? What's your angle
on someone like me?

Well, none of the above.

It's very simple.

I am what you would call an
old-fashioned S & M man.

S & M, what's that?

Sex and money.

In my experience, if you're not
clinically ill, schizophrenic,

manic-depressive, then 99%
of most people's neuroses

are generated by sex or money.

Or both. Simple as that.

Right.

So, how would you
categorise yourself?

Sex or money?

I'm definitely a sex man.

'Darling Logan, will you ever
get this letter, I wonder.

'Still, I feel I have
to write to you.

'Perhaps it will find you wherever you are.
I have the most wonderful news.

'We're going to
have another child.

'I have the strangest feeling,
an absolute conviction,

'that we'll have another daughter, a sister
for Stella. Am I being a complete fool?

'Would you laugh at me?

'I write lists of girl's names.

'How can I explain? Listen...

'Yesterday was
hope, this baby...

'Imagine your welcome home.

'Your three girls
waiting for you.

'There'll be four of us, my
darling, and we'll celebrate.'

LOUD WHISTLING AND EXPLOSION

'Another year, another birthday.

'Life seems simpler and clearer
without Allanah. I feel freer.

'Happier now that I'm on my own.

'Health - marginally better.

'No more teeth out.

'Haven't had any
Dexedrine for months.

'Drinking. Hmm, under control.
Just the one cocktail at lunch.

'Evenings are trickier, though.

'Smoking - one pack a day, if I stay in.
Weight - heavy. Bit of a belly.

'Hair - thinning. It's
only to be expected...'

TELEPHONE RINGS

Yeah.

'There's a young man called
Leo here to see you.'

'There's a young man called Leo
here to see you.' Leo who?

'He says you know each other.'

I'll be right there.

Father, it's me. Lionel.

Lionel.

Well, I'm called Leo now. I
hated being called Lionel.

Well, I'm called Leo now. I hated
being called Lionel. Good!

So what's the name of this
band that you manage?

Dead Souls.

Dead Souls. Ah, Gogol.

Dead Souls. Ah, Gogol. Sorry?

Oh, nothing.

There's was a Russian writer called Gogol,
wrote a great book called Dead Souls.

That won't be a problem.

That won't be a problem. No, no, no.
He's long gone!

Great. So we thought
there are so many bands

in London that we should
come to New York.

Fantastic.

See if things weren't
any better over here.

English bands might
be more hip here now.

English bands might be more hip here now.
Mmmm. Of course.

And I thought that you
were here, as well...

We could get to know each other.

Yes. That would be good.
That would be wonderful.

So... here I am.

MUSIC POUNDS OUT

That's the band.

Well, it can't cost
you a lot, anyway.

Monday, this is my father,
Logan Mountstuart.

Dad, this is Monday.

Dad, this is Monday. Your dad?
That's so groovy.

Hi, Mr Leo's Dad.

Hi there, Monday.
Good to meet you.

GASPING AND MOANING

Oh, goodness.

Ah...

So...

..how have you been?

What brings you to New York, Mrs Scabius?
Oh, sorry! Sorry.

Is it any different now I'm
the ex-Mrs Peter Scabius?

Strangely, it's better now
the guilt quotient's gone.

You mean the guilt
dividend is gone.

I always thought that it made
it more exciting for you.

It's you I love
fucking, darling...

It's you I love
fucking, darling... Ow!

It's you I love fucking, darling...
Ow! ..not Peter.

How is Peter, by the way?

Extremely, effortlessly, endlessly
successful... I'm glad to say.

He's just sold his tenth
novel to Paramount Studio.

Lots and lots of lovely alimony.
Money pouring in.

All right, all right. Message
received, loud and clear.

I'll remove my worthless,
impoverished self from your presence.

Oh, don't chip down, darling.
It doesn't suit you.

Anyway...

..I want you to come to a party tomorrow
night at the Italian consulate.

You can meet my new
paramour, Giancarlo.

Does he have a second name?

Yes, and he's a count.

Il Conto di Cordato.

He's very sweet, very
intelligent, you'll like him.

Hmm...

I'm going to enjoy
enormously being a contessa.

I don't think I should meet
your boyfriends, Gloria.

I don't think it's right.

Darling?

All right, all right.
I'll be there

I'll be there. But I'm going
to bring my son, Leo.

I want you to meet him.

It'll be a night of meetings.

Giancarlo must be late.
Have another drink, Leo.

Try and keep up
with your father.

I haven't the stamina.
A beer will be fine.

I ought to go to a
gallery opening.

I ought to go to a gallery opening.
Ladies

and Gentlemen, please,
our guests of honour.

APPLAUSE

What's going on, darling?
Are you all right?

What's going on, darling? Are you all
right? You look as if you've seen a ghost.

Dad?>

Get out!

I've got to get out of here.

But you haven't met Giancarlo yet.
Logan...?

Another time.

Judas!

Logan? What's...

This is our cultural...

This is our cultural...
That's Mountstuart, isn't it?

I want that man
thrown out of here.

Portatelo via!

Dai, dai, subito.

Judas!

Did you see her face? Like you were
Lucifer, come to drag her back to hell.

Yes, my God, that was incredible.
Positively medieval. Off with his head!

Why are we waiting
here, by the way?

Why are we waiting here, by the way?
Cos I can't leave now.

Why don't we all get a huge
drink in a bar and curse them?

Why don't we all get a
huge drink in a bar

and curse them? No, no,
they won't be long.

There's something
I have to finish.

There's something I have to finish. What
did you do to her? If looks could kill.

Milk-curdling. She doesn't like you at all.
Made me shiver.

In the war, when I was in the
Bahamas, there was a murder.

The duke tried to frame an innocent
man and I refused to play along.

You are a man of
mystery, Mr Mountstuart.

Your Royal Highness,
welcome back to New York!

Your Royal Highness, welcome back to
New York! Who killed Sir Harry Oakes?

Who murdered Sir Harry Oakes?
Who killed Sir Harry Oakes?

Who was the murderer?
Who was the murderer?

Step away from the stairs, sir.

'Your past never leaves you. You
want to rub it out, forget it,

'but it comes back and
grabs you by the throat.'

'The President and Mrs Kennedy
may have been struck by shots.'

How can anybody kill Kennedy?
He's the best, man.

I just can't believe it.

It's like a dream.

The worst fuckin' dream ever.

It must be some kind of a plot.
A Russian plot.

It's good stuff, Dad.
Nothing but the best.

It's like...

as if everything stopped.

And then started again.

Well, you know, Gail,
things happen in life.

Life doesn't run on
railroad tracks.

Something happens out of the
blue and everything changes.

Everything.

Like the divorce?

Well, maybe not quite
that earth shattering.

Well, it was to me.

I mean, Paul's nice,
don't get me wrong,

but he's not you... if
you know what I mean.

He's not interesting.

You're a writer, Logan.

That's what makes you so
different and strange.

In a nice way, I mean.

I'll always love you, Gail. I
want you to remember that.

You're like a daughter to me.

Like Stella?

Ah, left a bit.

Bit more.

Mr Mountstuart?

There's a Miss Monday on the phone for you.
She sounds a bit upset.

Leo? Leo?

Oh, my God! Jesus Christ!

Leo.

Did you call the ambulance?

Did you call the ambulance?
Is he going to be all right?

Did you call the ambulance? Is he going to
be all right? Did you call the ambulance?!

They're coming. Is he
going to be all right?

They're coming. Is he going
to be all right? Leo?

He must be in a deep coma.

They'll bring him round in time.

What the fuck happened, anyway?

We had a fight and Leo
kind of stormed off,

and then when I came back here,
he was stoned, man. Tripping.

Wild. All night. And then finally,
he fell asleep so I just...

I left him, and then when I came
back in, I saw that he'd been sick.

It's OK.

I can't stay here
tonight, Logan.

I can't stay here tonight, Logan.
I know, I know.

I just want Leo to get well.

I've got a spare room, I've got a
spare room. Don't worry, don't worry.

Don't worry, don't worry, it's all right.
It's all right.

Lionel!

Lionel!

Lionel...

Lottie, where are you going?

Lottie, you can't leave now.

I've buried my son. What
else is there to do?

Come back to the apartment.
Come and meet his friends.

They want to talk to you, they
want to meet Leo's mother.

They want to talk to you, they
want to meet Leo's mother. Lionel!

He should never have come here.
Never.

Of course he should have.
This was where his music was.

This is where his band was having
success, he loved it here.

It was foryou.

He wanted to seeyou,
to be near toyou.

He never would have come
here if it wasn't for you.

What are you trying to say?

Are you blaming me?

SOBBING

Logan? Is that you?

Did you remember to
pick up more milk?

Jesus Christ, Monday.

You've got to stop doing this, put
on some clothes, for God's sake.

You've got to stop doing
this, put on some

clothes, for God's sake.
I am wearing clothes.

No, I mean a fucking t-shirt
or something normal like that!

No, I mean a fucking t-shirt or
something normal like that! OK.

OK, if you want.

Cool down. When we were
in the Village apartment,

we just walked around naked all the time.
It's no big deal.

We just walked around
naked all the time. It's

no big deal. This is not
the fucking Village!

This is my apartment!
Have you got that?

Anyway, I'd prefer it. Do it for me.
Me. OK?

Sorry.

Sorry.

And I did forget the milk.
I'll go and get some now.

Oh, Logan! And some Dr Pepper?

Please.

We were just getting
to know each other.

One of those meaningless, utterly
fucking stupid accidents.

It's what you always say...

It's what you always say...
Yeah, good luck, bad luck.

My father's view of
life was very clear.

Hi, Logan. I got
the munchies too.

Want some cornflakes?

Some cookies?

Monday, I told you.

Hey! It's the middle of the night.
Give me a break.

I wasn't expecting us
to meet up like this.

Found it.

Where shall we meet
for lunch today?

Shall I come to the gallery? I'm
tired of that bar that we go to.

OK, I'll meet you, but...

I'm kind of busy today, it'll
have to be fast. You choose.

Ahh, how about that pizza
place on Lexington?

Where we went last week.

See you there at one o'clock.

I love you, Logan.

It's been so great these
last few weeks that you...

Don't, don't say anything.

Don't stay in bed all morning.

I still dream about Leo.

Night after night...

That's completely
understandable.

Do you blame yourself for
his death in any way?

No, I don't blame myself.

I might as well blame myself for
the death of Freya and Stella.

So, otherwise, how are things?

Anything new? Dating anyone?

Yes, I am, actually. I am
and I'd really like to talk

to you about it. I think
you'll find it intriguing.

PHONE RINGS

Excuse me.

Yeah. Oh, uh, OK,

I'll be right there...

I just need two minutes.

Don't forget we have to
book next month's session.

Of course. Another month gone by.
Time flies when you're having fun.

Exactly.

Mr Mountstuart, there are

two men waiting to see you.
They wouldn't tell me why.

They said it was personal.
That's them over there.

Oh, right. Fine.

Gentlemen, what
can I do for you?

Are you Mr Logan Mountstuart?

Yes.

Do you know a Miss
Laura Schmidt?

Uh, no. I don't know anyone
called Laura Schmidt.

She has a nickname "Monday".

My son's girlfriend's called Monday.
As it happens.

We believe she's living
in your apartment.

She, um...

Yeah, she's been staying
there since my son's death.

She was very upset. Why?

She's my daughter.

She's 16 years old.

Oh.

Are you sleeping with
her, you English bastard?

Are you sleeping with

my 16-year old daughter,
you fucking ENGLISH LOSER!

16... Jesus. That's not good.

She told me she was 19.
Lionel told me she was 19.

What's Lionel got to do with it?

Ah...

She was Lionel... She was
Lionel's girlfriend.

Ben, I can explain, it's not at all
how it sounds, not how it seems.

You know, every time, Logan, I
say to myself, no, he can't

top that, and every
time I'm wrong.

OK... OK...

um look, the trouble
is, if she's 16,

they can get you
on statutory rape.

Rape?

She's under age, Logan.

Even if she lied about her
age, even if she consented.

The age of consent in
New York State is 17.

Oh, fuck. Fuck!

What am I supposed to do?

Get out of town. No, no,
get out of the country.

Don't worry about the gallery,
I'll stay on, sort everything out.

Just, just go,
it's the only way.

Go now, straight to the airport.

Get your passport and go.

And try not to fuck
anyone on the way.

'I don't feel like I'm 16.
I feel like I'm 19.

'But I was breaking the law.

'I hate being 16.

'Where are you from?

'A place called Alameda. A
small town near San Francisco.

'Go back to Alameda.
Be a good girl.

'And call me when you're 17.

'I love you, Logan.
I'll always love you.

'Yeah.

'I love you too, Monday.'

Good luck.

Does it matter that I haven't
written in this journal for years?

No, you keep writing - the
gaps are unimportant.

However, I have to record
that I'm astonished

at how easy it is
to become poor.

Suddenly you wake up one day and
realise you have very little money.

My New York wealth and affluence are
a distant memory now. And yet there

is something strangely liberating
about being free from money.

When you're looking up from the
bottom of the heap the world is

a much less complicated place.

I am determined to enjoy
the years left to me.

I live very simply.

I drink beer and cider, I eat frugal
meals of pulses and corned beef,

a culinary leitmotif
of my existence.

I'm soon to be 70, and the
writing jobs are drying up

for someone like me.

Thank God I bought
this flat when I did.

Bless you, Mother.

Anyway, income from
published books, nil.

Not surprising, as they
are all out of print.

From freelance journalism?
Erratic.

Last year I earned
approximately 650.

From occasional
jobs from Ben, 235.

And of course my
old-age pension.

Not to forget that princely sum.

7.75 a week...

PHONE RINGS

If it wasn't for Ben
I'd be screwed.

How's your tea?

Delicious.

Third time those tea bags have been used.
Perfectly good.

Logan, you can't live like this.

Come back and work with me.

We can find you something
at the London Gallery.

Nonsense, you've done
more than enough for me.

Besides, I've got my
novel to concentrate on.

I've got a couple of publishers
interested, actually.

Well, I'm glad to hear it.

Logan.

I've some unfortunate news.

I'm not well.

Cancer.

Oh, my dear chap.

Don't tell me. Prostate?

How'd you guess?

I am surprised I
haven't got it myself.

It's like a rite of passage
for men of our age.

They're very encouraging the...

the surgeon, the oncologist.

Like having your tonsils out, now.
You'll be running around in no time.

It's what Sandrine says
"Positive Thinking".

But I don't feel that well.

You know what they say
- listen to your body.

My body's a bit gloomy.

Nonsense. It's the "C" -word.
It makes you feel low.

I bought an Andy
Warhol yesterday.

Incredibly expensive this Pop Art.
Astonishing.

I call it "Snack Art".

Not very satisfying.
No nutrition.

Exactly. Like eating a biscuit.

Or a packet of crisps...

It's a death sentence.

I must go and see him.

Three of my friends have
died of prostate cancer.

Well, three acquaintances.

Any I'd know?

No. People I met in
the Channel Islands.

God. Think about it
- you, me and Ben.

Funny I always thought I'd be
trailing in your wake, Logan.

We haven't finished yet.

Christ, no. I've got a
dozen novels left in me.

What're they like,
the Channel Islands?

What?

Oh... Not too bad, actually.

When I get deadly bored I just think
of all the tax I'm not paying.

Hello? Waiter. The bill, please.

That's a consolation. What?
Not paying any tax.

If my accountant knew I was in
London he'd have a heart attack.

Thank God I haven't
got your money.

That's a joke, by the way.

Supertax.

90 pence in the pound. Scandalous.
State larceny, I tell you.

How's the new novel going?

I feel I've rather dominated the
conversation. How's life with you?

Oh. Couldn't be better.

Yes, you look well. Do you
ever hear from Gloria?

Me? No... Why?

She's a Contessa, now.

Amazing woman, amazing,
one of a kind.

I should never have let her go.

I'll be in touch if
I'm ever in Jersey.

Guernsey.Guernsey.

Give Ben my love.

Tell him I'll come and see him.

Will do... Pimlico, please.

Can you just stop round
the corner, please?

You joking? Thank you.

That will do fine. Thank you.

I've decided I'd rather
walk, goodnight.

Tight old git!

Morning. Do you have
an appointment?

No, I'm a client of this
firm, Logan Mountstuart.

I've come to use the
photocopying machine.

You know the library charges two
pence a copy. Daylight robbery.

Would you mind waiting a minute, sir?
I'll check with my...

Don't worry about me, I'll
be out of here in a minute.

Mr Mountstuart?

Sheila Adrar. It's very good to
meet you, finally. An honour.

How do you do?

I hope you don't
mind me popping in.

Wallace Douglas said I could
always use the office facilities

if I ever had a need.

You wouldn't believe
what the library

charges for photocopying.
It's outrageous.

Wallace Douglas retired
over ten years ago.

We keep his name as
a mark of respect.

Do feel free to photocopy, but
we have to make a charge.

I beg your pardon.

A charge?

Do you realise how much money I've
made for this firm? A fortune.

I just checked. The last commission
we earned from you was in WWII.

This is a literary agency,
we're not a charity.

Well, I am sorry, but that
leaves me with no alternative.

It's just to cover our
costs - paper, ink.

I'm afraid I'm going
to have to sack you.

Consider yourself sacked.

Calm down, Logan.

I'm dead calm. You can see
how fucking calm I am.

By the way, it's Mr
Mountstuart, to you.

So you're sacked, fired.

I'll get another agent.

I won't tolerate
such mean-spirited,

unprofessional behaviour
from people in my employ.

What are you lot staring at?
You're all fucking sacked as well.

Is this the watershed? I wonder.

My life as a writer hits a new
low in a petty and unseemly row

over photocopying charges?

Symbolic?

Did my success come too early?

Was that my problem?
Did I peak too young?

PHONE RINGS

Mountstuart.

Oh, my God!

How wonderful to
hear your voice.

Yes, of course, you
remember it's very modest.

Yes, it does have a bed...

It's only cooking
sherry, I'm afraid.

It's all I can afford.

Don't worry, we'll get some
proper stuff tomorrow.

Live it up. The Count's
been very generous.

No longer La Contessa.

He was deadly dull,
as it turned out.

I'm so sorry.

It's rather sweet,

your little flat.

I'm going to enjoy staying here.

Like the old days...

Lovely Leo.

I can't be on my own, Logan.

All right.

Have you any idea how
long you'll be staying?

How long does it take
to die, darling?

You tell me.

Follow me.

Mmmm, delicious!

So what are we
celebrating, anyway?

Life.

So the tests were good?
Oh, wonderful.

No, no, no, uniformly bad.

"Metastizing
pancreatic carcinoma."

It's racing through me...

my spine, my lungs, my liver.

Don't!

Not a word of sympathy. I'm
not going to hospital.

I'm staying here.
Nurses will come here

and they've promised that I
won't feel a twinge of pain

and we're going to have fun.
We're going to live like kings.

I've got enough money. We
can indulge ourselves.

No, no!

Don't look so sad.

If I could manage a
"boff de politesse"

I would, for old times' sake.

It's just that I
feel so frustrated!

Aah!

What cannot be avoided, my
darling, must be accepted.

Now, eat some more.

Before I polish it off myself.

Morning, Logan.

Morning, Subadar.

How is Madam, the
Countess doing?

She's comfortable, thank you,

just a little bit woozy, you know.
It's all these drugs.

Oh, dear. Give her my
ardent good wishes, huh?

Yes, I will. Thank you.
I'll see you later.

Figs, lychees, kumquats, that's
as exotic as I could get.

Kumquats! I've never
had a kumquat.

It's amazing.

What you're going to
experience is far more fun

than what you've already experienced,
you remember that, Logan.

Actually, I think I'd rather
have another sip of my cocktail.

My back is sore.

How's that?

Blessed opiates.

What's the news?

You remember my old friend, Cyprien
Dieudonne, old French poet?

I remember him.

It seems he's left me
a house, in his will,

in South West France, it's near a
village, Sainte Sabine, in the Lot.

The house is called
"Cinq Cypres".

Five Cypresses.

"Cinq Cypres". Oh,
it sounds lovely.

Sounds like I should sell it.

No. Hold on to it, Logan.
It's come out of the blue.

You never know when
you might need it.

You promise me

that you won't sell it.

It's a boon, a blessing.

Cherish it.

What's the point if you
can't afford to visit it?

No, put it on the market, I say.

I remember once...

once, when I was a young girl,

down on my last pennies, I
could have bought a sandwich,

but I bought a bunch
of violets instead.

I would never have
remembered the sandwich,

but I remembered those violets.

Violets...

The nurse will be here in
half an hour, darling.

Tea's on its way.

Room service. Are you decent?

No milk, slice of lemon,
half a teaspoon of honey.

Everything that madam desires.

Logan.

Logan.

It's not about looking
back, darling.

It's about looking ahead.

Monsieur? Monsieur?

Il faudrait pas aller au lit la.

Pardon, monsieur. Pardonnez-moi.

Ah... voila.

Pardon.

Allez, bon soir.

Allez, bon soir. Merci.

Attention en rentrant.

Amazing woman.

Such energies.

She'd have killed me, that's
why we had to divorce.

Self-preservation,
pure and simple.

She was one of a kind.

But how come she ended
up dying in your flat?

Ah, I think she was...

I think she wanted it to
be all very discreet.

Yes. Makes sense.

Very good of you, Logan.

Fabulous woman.

No disrespect to the dead, but
the sex was out of this world.

Can I drive you back to town?

You can drop me at the
nearest tube station.

Public transport? How
very socialist of you.

Thank you.

Mind how you go.

Morning, George.

Morning, Mr Mountstuart.

I'll have a bunch of violets, please.
Don't bother to wrap them.

There we are. Spring at last.

Thanks very much,
Mr Mountstuart.

Not much of a spring we're having.
Bloody freezing!

Well, it's not about looking
back, it's about looking ahead.

Too right.

Bye.