All language subtitles for Cider with Rosie (1998)

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I was set down from the carrier's cart,

and there,
with a sense of bewilderment and terror,

my life in the village began.

For the first time in my life,

I was out of the sight of humans.

For the first time in my life,

I was alone in a world whose behaviour
I could neither predict nor fathom.

I was lost
and I did not expect to be found again.

Come on, little Lol.

There's redcurrants,
right from the bushes.

Come down now
and we'll stuff you with currants.

One, two...

Our house and our life in it,

is something of which
I still constantly dream.

Hopelessly bidden, night after night,
to return to its tranquility and nightmares,

to the heavy shadows
of its stone-walled ruins,

crevassed between bank and yew trees,

its chaos and rule of women.

Slide it straight, that's it.

Let Lol through.
Come on, then, Lol.

- You all right, Sid?
- Course I'm all right.

If I can drive a bus,
I can steer a little piano.

Watch where you're going, Tom!

Mother? Mother?
Where do you want me to put the bread?

Oh-ho! Over there will be fine.

Don't know why you ever wanted
to move over from Stroud.

All this stuff to cart
and it's only a few miles.

- Ohh!
- Cheaper. He thinks it'll be cheaper.

Need a drop of cider to do a job like that,
do you, Uncle Sid?

Our mother says you drive better
with a drop of drink inside you.

You girls show a bit
of respect for your uncle!

Ah, Sid, easy!

Go easy with my precious piano!

No, no, over here, Sid.
Yeah, that's right.

Ooh, gently does it.
Against the wall.

Careful!

Just moved in, have you, missus?

Try this, then. Last year's cowslip.

Ohh, I don't know,

- Mrs?
- Granny Wallon they calls me.

I live at the front down the bottom.

You wanna watch out for her up the top.
Oh, the varmint.

- Some says a witch...
- Ooh!

and I wouldn't be surprised.

Try it then, missus.

Cowslip and parsley.

- Mm.
- It's well fermented.

- Oo-hoo!
- Fermented, is it?

I don't say I won't try a taste of that.

Go easy, Uncle Sid.

The girl's right, Sid.

You wanna watch out that old bus inspector
don't catch you

full of whatever it is you're guzzling.

Leave some for missus, don't you sup it all.

That's good.

My father was a knowing, brisk, elusive man.

By the age of 20, he had married
the beautiful daughter of a local merchant,

and she bore him children
before dying herself still young.

One day, Mother read in a local paper

"Widower, four children,
seeks housekeeper."

She fell in love with him immediately,

and remained in love forever.

And herself being comely,
sensitive and adoring,

she attracted my father also
and so he married her.

Ohh!

You look that handsome! Oh!

It's the Pay Corps uniform,

and the Pay Corps is the way up
to what I'm aiming for.

I know. Oh!

The civil service.

It's all I want in the world.

Hey! Is that all?

I've been studying nights for it.

I know, you've been working hard.

So...

when I get up to London...
- Woolwich, isn't it?

- Woolwich is London, dear.
- Oh.

So, that'll be my step up
towards the civil service.

So, what I mean to say, well,
I'll be busy up there.

Busy studying to advance myself.

But you'll still come back here?

You'll still visit us?

When I can, dear.
I'm not sure when I'll be able.

Sundays.

Oh, surely you can come Sundays?

Sundays?

I'll have to see.

So...

anyway, it's goodbye for now.

Goodbye?

Oh, my darling!

Oh!

Shh.

I'll come when I can.

And so, he left her,

with his children,
and some more of her own,

thus enabling my mother
to raise both his families,

which she did out of love and pity,

out of unreasoned loyalty,

and a fixed belief
that he would one day return to her.

Our mother, he's here.

- He is?
- He's here and waiting for you.

He's come!

Oh, I knew he would! I knew it!

It's Sunday, isn't it?

Now, erm...

Oh, no. That doesn't look right.

Oh, my hair's a mess.

What to do, what to do, what to do?

Now, where's my...

Damn and cuss!
Where's my shoes?

Tell him I'm just coming.

All right, where you put him?

- In the scullery.
- In the scullery?

Why didn't you bring him in here?

All the time we've waited to see him.

It's him?

I told you, our mother,
he's turned up again.

You poor man.

Must've been cruel in the wood.

I got some sacks, ma'am,
they keep out the wet.

You oughtn't to live like that,
you ought to go back to your home.

No, ma'am, that wouldn't do. They'd jump
on me before you could say "knife".

Well, you'll have some breakfast?

Least we can do. Come on, girls,
porridge with a spot of honey for our visitor.

A little bit of porridge...
to increase his knowledge.

Hurry up now, come on,
the poor man's starving!

I did right until I...
I tumbled to what they wanted.

I did my duty...

and they gave me medals for it.

Look you here.

My medals.

I keeps them shining
in all the damp of the wood.

That were a bright morning
I got that one.

Very bright.

Sky... full of birds...

and aeroplanes.

I was first jumping in the trench,
bayonet fixed.

They said I was brave that time.

Very brave.

Eat up now. I'm sure you were.

I knew what we were there for.

We were there to be dead.

That was the idea behind it.

Why was that, then?

So they could walk over us.

So we'd fill up the trenches
and smother them,

then more chaps could walk over us.

I wouldn't go back there,
so I ran to the woods.

They got war in the woods, then,
have they?

Bang-bang, I'm a soldier.

Aye.

You'd make a better one than me, son...
any day.

Good morning, Mrs. Lee.

Oh, my goodness.

Doth.
Good morning, squire.

So glad we caught you.

I don't know if you've met my son, Richard.

Oh, no, not had the pleasure.
Hope you're keeping well.

As well as can be expected.

It's his birthday.
His 21 st, you know,

but he can't stay for it.

Got to get back to France, I'm afraid.
Got a bit of a job to finish.

So, we're distributing presents among
the cottages to mark the day, don't you know.

George, a pound of tea for Mrs. Lee.

A pound of tea for Mrs. Lee! You're a poet,
squire, and you do not know it.

And the biscuits, Father.

Oh, yes, of course,
we mustn't forget the biscuits.

Take 'em, Doth, will you?

And, um...

how is Mr. Lee keeping these days?

I haven't had the pleasure
of meeting him yet.

Oh... he's fine, yes, yes. Keeps busy,
of course. The war keeps him busy.

He'll be home soon.

Oh, yes,
yes, we're expecting him home soon.

I was still young enough then
to be sleeping with my mother,

which to me
seemed life's whole purpose.

Alone at that time, of all the family,

I was her chosen dream companion.

Chosen from all, for her extra love.

My right, so it seemed to me.

So, in the ample night
and the thickness of her hair,

I consumed my fattened sleep,

blessed by her bed and safety.

Nasty old cough.

Look after him, won't you, Doth, mm?

Here, give us a push.

Oh, and, Lol, he's gotta stay in bed
with that chest of his. Mm?

If his fever gets any worse,
just fetch Mrs. Moore over to take a look.

Yes, Mam.

Just popping over to the Delacorts' place.

They're selling up, you know.

Very cultivated they were.

Well, she was, at least.

Should be some lovely china things going.

I shall only be looking.
Shan't buy, of course.

- Cheerio, then.
- Cheerio, Mam.

All done,
seventeen and six pence with the lady.

Going, going...

gone, to the lady.

Now, lot 217, this handsome teapot.

Genuine Spode china,
it's a collector's piece.

Only slightly damaged,
property of the lady of the house.

Used to entertain the aristocracy.

I'll start it at thirteen shillings
and six pence.

Ah, the lady.
Do I hear fourteen?

Fourteen shillings.

Going at fourteen shillings?
Who will offer me fourteen and six pence?

No? All going at fourteen shillings
to the gentleman with the spectacles.

Going, going...

Ah, madam,
do I hear fourteen and six pence?

I've got...

twelve shillings and eight pence.

Gone, to the gentlemen.
Sorry, madam.

Ah, lot 218.

Your father liked this one.

I used to play it to him.

Oh, and I'd tell him stories.

I could make him laugh.

"Annie, you are a killer," he used to say.

He used to get quite helpless with giggles
at all the stories I told him.

He really loved my hair, you know.

It had gold lights in it then.

And he'd twist it, so it caught the sun,
and then... he'd just sit and gaze.

Gaze.

Why doesn't he come and see us, then?

Lol... come in for your tea!

Lol!

Sit down, Lol.

The soldier lost the war in the woods.

- What you mean, Lol?
- Men in caps, they come for him.

What did they do then?

Chained him up and took him away.

Oh... poor man.

Eat up.

You can have some tart later.

Give you some tart? Of course.

Give me your heart.

# Give me your heart to keep

# I'll guard it well

# My pretty Nell

# As a shepherd will guard his sheep... #

- It's over.
- What?

- The war.
- What?

They was telling me down at the stores,

and they was giving away prunes.
Have some.

It's really true?

It's really ended?

Oh, yeah, and there's all sorts going on
down at the village.

We wants to get down there,
so we can go look around.

What?!

- Oh, look after the children, Marge.
- What do you mean, our mother?

Well... if it's over, really and truly...

then I got to get to Woolwich.

Wonderful news, isn't it?

I expect your father will be home soon.

- And Mr. Richard.
- Oh, yes, of course.

Now that it's over,
we expect to hear from him any day now.

Shouldn't you children be in bed?

Oh, no, sir, Ma lets us.

Peace at last,

and the children can stay up
as long as they like.

Rose-coloured men
through the rain-wet windows

seemed to bulge and break into flame.

They breathed out smoke,
drank fire from golden jars,

and I heard their great din with awe.

Marge, Doth, come quick,
the school chimney's afire.

It's the end of the world.

No, it's not, stupid.

It's the end of the war.

At any moment, I'd look for a spectacular end
to my already long life.

Oh, the end of the war and the world,
I never expected to see another day.

Yes?

Oh, erm, I've come to see Mr. Lee.

I'm Mrs. Lee.

Mrs. Lee?

Is he in, by any chance?

Wait there, I'll see for you.

Ann.

I didn't expect you.

Yes, dear, I'm here.

Well, the war being over and that.

What you trying to tell me?

- The war's over.
- I know that.

So, I've enquired about the civil service, Ann.

That's a... real possibility.

Good.

For them who live in London.

- Our home's in the village now.
- Not my home, Ann.

Your home, maybe.

- And our children's home.
- Our children's home, of course.

They're better off there.

I know they are.

So... what about you?

Country life, that's...

not suitable,

not for a fellow that's going to work
in the civil service.

And, well...

let's be honest, Ann...
you know what you are, don't you?

What?

What am I?

You're a country girl, aren't you?

Always... have been.

I don't see you... fitting in... exactly,

not with the life
that I'm expecting to lead up in London.

Oh, I can fit in.

Well, I can... I can fit in most places.

All the same...

I think it's... better for all of us if...

We're a long way apart now, aren't we?

Best leave things as they be.

Eh, Annie?

Thank you.

Did you see our father?

When I was in service,

I got to learn how the gentry did it.

Everything... had to be done just so.

Personal cruets for every guest.

The napery... and the silver...
had to be arranged in order.

A set for each separate dish.

One, two, three, four, five.

One, two, three, four... five.

So, first of all,
the butler brings in the soup.

Scoop, scoop.

And begins by serving the ladies.

Then there'd be...
river trout, or fresh salmon,

and then, ooh, woodcock, perhaps,
or guinea fowl.

Oh, yeah, and a joint as well.

Oh, cuss and dash,
the porridge is boiling over!

Ow! Ah-sha-shash!

When's Father coming to visit?

Then there was the night
of Miss Emily's betrothal.

- Who was Miss Emily?
- Daughter of the house.

A man came from Paris
just to do her hair.

There were these fiddlers in black,
perched up in the gallery,

and the gentlemen all wore uniform,

and they danced.

And a one, a two, a three, a four.

One, two, three four!

three, four!

Spin and one and two and three and four!

One, two, three...

Oh, dear.

A schottische.

Oh, I got that carried away.

He's not coming home, is he?

Yoo-hoo, Miss Flynn!

Are you home?

Such cheeky children.

I wish I had apples for them.

Oh, don't you bother, Miss Flynn.

The thought's kind enough.

How are you...

how you keeping...

Miss Flynn?

I been bad, missus.

Oh, there now.
Not so bad as some, I'm sure.

Anyway, it's this west wind,
bad for your nerves.

I have been bad, missus...

for things I must do.

It's my mother again, you know.

I've been trying
to keep her sick spirit from me.

She don't leave me alone at nights.

Her mother's been dead these four years.

Poor Miss Flynn.

Such a shame.

And her half-gentry too.

I'm tired. Carry me.

- Nonsense, Lol.
- You're grown up now.

You're a big grown man.

You'll sleep with Harold and Jack in the
big boys' room. What do you think about that?

- I don't want to.
- It's time Tony moved into our mother's bed.

Tony's too big to stop
all night in his little cot.

It's time for you to grow up, Lol.
It really is.

I'm not moving out of your bed,
am I, our mother?

Oh, it'll only be for a few nights.

It was my first betrayal.

My first dose of ageing hardness.

My first lesson in the gentle,
merciless rejection of women.

Nothing more was said, and I accepted it.

I grew a little tougher, a little colder,

and turned my attention more towards
the outside world,

which by now
was emerging visibly through the mist.

You're Laurie Lee, aren't you?

- I suppose so.
- Well, come and sit here for the present.

Silence, children.

Now, let's see how we can count.

Three beads and one makes four.

And another one makes five.

And another one makes what, children?

- Six, teacher.
- Very good, Poppy Green.

My desk companions
were those two blonde girls,

already puppyishly pretty,

whose names and bodies were to distract
and haunt me for the next 15 years of my life.

- Six, teacher.
- Very good.

- Please, miss.
- Yes, Laurie Lee.

Can I have my present now?

Your present? What present?

You said this morning,
"Just sit here for the present."

You funny child, I didn't mean a present,
not a gift. Of course not.

Good heavens, what are you staring at?

You're wearing a wig.

I certainly am not!

- You are. I've seen it.
- Come up here.

Now, look very close.

Is that really a wig?

Yes.

Well, really, I assure you, it's not a wig.

And if you could watch me getting dressed
in the morning,

you'd know it wasn't one either.

Now, get along with you.

To suggest I might watch her getting dressed
in the morning

seemed to me
both outrageous and wonderful.

In a long hot summer,
a serious drought hit the country.

Springs dried up, the wells filled with frogs

and the usually sweet water
from our scullery pump,

turned brown and tasted of nails.

As the drought continued,

prayer was abandoned
and more devilish steps adopted.

Finally, soldiers with rifles
marched to the tops of the hills

and began shooting at passing clouds.

The drought broke soon after,

and it began to rain
as it had never rained before.

The first big festival that I can remember
was Peace Day in 1919.

It was a day of magical transformations -

of tears and dusty sunlight,

and bands, processions
and buns by the cartload.

And I was so young I thought it normal.

Ladies and gentlemen...

friends...

neighbours...

children...

we are here to celebrate.

To celebrate what... exactly?

Peace!

After war...

peace.

I suppose that's about it.

I'll ask my mother to say a few words.

In our joy and happiness today,

we remember those
who have not come back.

I gave my beloved grandson, Richard.

He gave up his life
in the service of almighty God,

and for the sake of the British Empire.

They will all receive promotion in heaven.

Meanwhile, my son and I hope you will all
enjoy yourselves in these lovely gardens.

Please don't touch the flowers.

Oh, yes, I am reminded,

the first prize
in the children's fancy dress parade

is awarded most appropriately to John Bull
in the person of young Laurie Lee.

Half a crown for you, my boy.

Save it up until you're married.

Aye, and he can buy us all a gallon of cider.

What you doing down there,
young varmints?

We come to pay you a visit, Granny Trill.

Oh.

Good morning, boys.

Now, you boys don't want anything to do
with her up the top.

You come inside and taste my turnip wine.

That'll put hairs on your chest, that will,
my turnip wine.

You boys coming up, then?

You be quiet, you up the top.

You old witch!

Give a body a bit of peace.

Come on in, then, and mind my parts
or they'll cut you to pieces.

What you doing, Gran?

Just biding still,
combing me bits.

You're going bald, Gran.

I still got my bits.

It's coming out.

No, it ain't!

I got more than her down there.

Her's as bald as a tater root,
wicked old lump.

Oh, I'll see her gone.

Her's failing.

You mark my words.

You a hundred yet, Gran?

Going on. Going on.

You get your hands out
from my drawers!

Go on, go, go! Go, go, go!

Hurry up, we'll miss the chara.

Morning, all.

- You're never gonna drink all that, Sid.
- Oh, you just leave me be, Alice.

You know this bus goes a whole lot better
when I've got a drink or two inside of me.

Come on, our mother.

Our mother, you're washing slow as a duck
with all the summer to do it.

Well, go on and get on the bus, then,
if you're so keen on it.

Now, tell me, are we all present and correct?

Yes, Vicar.

- Ah, good.
- What about Mother?

Now, there's a very nice church
by the promenade.

I trust you will all spare a moment...

Yoo-hoo!

Come on!

Ohh!

Nearly went without you.

Go on, Sid. What you waiting for?

Let's go have a wet.

- Come on, Sid.
- Not too much, Sid.

Of course not, dear. Now why don't you go
and find a nice clean place to sit on the pier?

- Come on, boys.
- Right, come on, Sid.

I found the sea.

Ah, well done, squire.

I've got some of it here.

Reckon there's plenty of it left.

What you digging for?

Sea hedgehogs.

What they look like, then?

Dunno.

Ain't never seed 'em.

Oh!

- Sid!
- Hush, woman, I know exactly what I'm doing.

Let me in!

- Are you there?
- Come in.

Who's that?

Sid's done it this time, that's what.

- I know he has.
- What do you mean, Alice?

- Topped hisself again?
- That's it.

Oh.

Well, you know our Sid, dear,
he's always threatening suicide.

Only when he can't do it.

Remember that time he went up
Deadcombe Wood to hang hisself?

Only by his braces.

And when he drank that disinfectant,

well, he marked the antidote clearly,
he put it on the shelf all ready,

- just to save us all the trouble.
- Reckon he means it this time though.

He never come home.

They must've given him the sack,
cos of the drink.

Now, he's gone off to end it all.

Oh, there, now, I'm sure he hasn't.

Oh, come on in, Alice.

Sit yourself down by the fire,
come on.

Oh dear, oh dear.

You've gotta help me.
He's gone down the canal, I reckon.

Annie... he always said he'd do himself in
if it came to the sack.

Your boys, they've just got to find him,
before it's too late.

All right, boys.

Uncle Sid?

Uncle Sid, where are you?

Uncle Sid?

Uncle Sid?

Uncle Sid, where are you?

Don't do it, Uncle Sid.

Uncle Sid, where are you?

Uncle Sid?

Look!

"Goodbye."

You've been a long time coming.

Joseph and Hannah Brown
appeared to be indestructible.

They had lived together in the same house
for 50 years.

And to me,
they resembled two tawny insects -

slow but deft in their movements,

a little foraging, some frugal feeding
and any amount of stillness.

Sid's eggs.

His chicken's gone mad.

He gave us more than we could manage,

so, I brought you over a dozen.

That's kind, Mrs. Lee.

That thoughtful.

When we pass your door, we always say

you're snug as a pair of chestnuts
in here, aren't you.

We takes you for granted.

Like the weather.

So, just thought I'd pop over...
with a few eggs.

And, if you're needing any chores done

or a bit of company or anything,
I'll send the boys round.

Oh, no, we're fine. We gets on, you see.

Oh, yes, we gets on.

There's nothing like an husband,
is there, Mrs. Lee, to keep you contented?

Mm.

Well, hope you enjoy the...

eggs.

Crabby's coming.

Shuffling your feet,
playing with the desk,

and smirking
at that miserable Rosie Burdock!

I will not have it!
I will not, I say.

I repeat, I will not!

Wake up, Laurie Lee.

Wake up, slow and lazy.

Good morning, children.

Morning, teacher.

Our Father,

which art in heaven,

hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses,

as they forgive us who trespass against them.

Lead us not into temptation...

Sam?

You look tired, my dear.

Why don't you come in?

Warm yourselves.

Is that her? Is that the one?

You be quiet.
Now, just shut up.

Our king is George.

Stop sniffling,
slow and lazy!

Yes, miss.

One George is fifth.

I will not have it! I will not!

Get out of my classroom, go on, get out!

Don't you dare come back,
not until you've a-blowed your nose a-proper.

Ain't you blown your nose yet?

No, and I ain't going to neither.

- What's Crabby gonna say?
- I don't care what she says.

I don't belong to that place.

- Why not?
- Cos I'm royal.

Go on, that's rubbish!

It's not rubbish neither, Rosie Burdock.

One day there'll be a coach arrive back home
to take me away.

A coach with footmen.

And they'll stand up
very solemn and respectful.

Although our mother will cry about it I expect.

I'm not gonna put
our brothers in dungeons neither,

much as they deserves it.

I'll feed them on cakes and jellies.

You're no good, Spadge Hopkins.

You're an 'opeless, aren't you just?

Hurry up, Laurie Lee.

A little less beastly now, are we?

Maybe you'd like to bring an 'ankie tomorrow.

I'm sure we'd all be grateful.

You're a blockhead, Spadge Hopkins.

Not to put too fine a point upon it -
a blockhead,

who doesn't even know his three times seven.

He does.

What you say, Spadge Hopkins?

Did I hear you mutter some reply
in which you included the word "miss"?

I don't doubt it.

I does, miss.

Oh, you does, does you?

Well, perhaps you'll let the class
have the privilege of sharing

what your idea
of your three times seven might be.

Nineteen.

Hopeless!

What did they do with your head,
Spadge Hopkins?

Carve it out of dead wood, did they,

then cover it with lead,

so not a single multiplication
can penetrate in?

Sod it all!

And where do you think you are going,
Spadge Hopkins, may I ask?

If it's any business of yours.

Sit down at once!
I will not have it!

Ta-ta, Crabby.

Come and help me, someone.

Help me.

Help me, someone, help!
Help!

Stop!

Hello, Miss Flynn.

Such cheeky children.

You coming to entertainment later,
Miss Flynn?

I'm sorry, boys, I can't leave home.

It's my mother, you know.

She keeps coming to visit me.

# Snow had fallen, snow on snow

# Snow on snow

# In the bleak midwinter, long ago #

What was that God-awful noise?

Boney - he can't sing a note.

I got a sweet voice.

You ain't, Boney.
Not to be honest.

You're a 'horrible disgrace.

You clear off, Boney,
you're ruining our carol barkin'.

- I ain't.
- Oh, yes, you are.

Come on, everyone, we're ditching Boney.

Bye, Boney.

I'll take a large whisky from you, landlord.

And I believe all the gentlemen present
will be pleased to join me...

in the tipple of their choice.

Fill 'em up high, now.
No short measures.

And if the service is satisfactory...

draw one for yourself.

Excuse me.

Where have you been?

I've been carol singing.

Remember me, do you?
Little Vincent Thorne,

so poor and peaky
that the village scraped together

to ship him off to New Zealand
to start a new life.

Squire was very generous.

You all paid your whack.

And now little Vincent Thorne
could buy you all up,

including squire and all his manor
and still have a fortune nestling in the bank.

Fill 'em up proper again, landlord,

there's plenty more where that came from.

Another year,

another year comes round.

When I see you all gathered together here,
once more, well, I think...

Well, it's most difficult to find words
to express... what I think.

But...

the time of year has come around again

when I can announce... an entertainment.

You chaps have got no idea, have you?

You've all wasted your lives, I reckon.

I mean, what's a life here?

Slaving for the squire and the tenant farmers
for a miserable twelve bob a week.

Living on potatoes and touching your caps.

Nothing to look at
except muck and each other.

Which of you humble peasants can tell the time
on a watch to match this one?

Eh?

# Grow, grow, grow, little mushroom, grow

# Grow, grow, somebody wants you so

# I will come again tomorrow morning, see

# And if you've grown bigger,
you will just suit me

# So, grow, grow, grow,
little mushroom, grow #

You never guessed, did you?

Not when you'd sent me
once across the ocean.

It's not just the money and the watch,
like I told you.

You oughta see the size of my farm
in New Zealand.

You ought just to take a look at my horses.

You know what I got?

Carriages...

fine linen sheets to sleep in,

and I never say sir to no one.

You want a lantern to light your way?

I were born here, wasn't I?

I should be able to find my way home.

When is a door not a door?

When it's ajar.

And now, a little ditty.

# Oh, I cannot love you

# The pain of salt will go...

Ahh!

# Some pain in my soul

# I think I'll be there soon... #

Well, then, Vincent.

And now we have Miss Jo Jenkins
and Master Laurie Lee to perform a duet.

- I better help him.
- Mother, don't. Sit down.

- Ah!
- Aargh!

Aargh!

Pick him up.
Grab a leg.

Over here, over here, come on.

# But come ye back
when summer's in the meadow

# Or when the valley's hushed
and white with snow

# It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow

# Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy,
I love you so #

The police came, of course,
but discovered nothing.

Their enquiries were met by stares.

The detail, spread quickly
from mouth to mouth,

was deliberately spread among us,

was given to everyone, man and child,

that we might learn each detail and hide it.

The police left at last
with the case unsolved.

But neither we nor they forgot it.

He's awake.

Mm, mm, angels.

Uncle Ray, my boy, you've gone and died
and went to heaven.

You're no angel though.

Who are these visions of paradise?

Them's my sisters.

Then you're a lucky man.

Come on, sit on the bed, girls,
and warm your uncle's heart,

or any part of him
that happens to be in your neighbourhood.

What've you got all over you?

Friends, my young beauty.

Images of delight to keep me company
on lonely nights under the stars.

Let me introduce you. Erm...

Ah, I call this one Bella the belly dancer.

Do you want her to dance for you?
Yeah.

Oo-er, snakes.

Girls, you shouldn't have woken up
your Uncle Ray.

He's traveled ever so far.

Where you traveled from, Uncle Ray?

The ends of the earth.

The North Pole.

The mountains of the moon.

- I come down on a shooting star.
- Canada.

Well, yes, Canada.

My little sister, Annie, I might've known
you'd produce a basketful of beauties.

Oh, not me, I'm afraid.

Anyway,
got to get this basketful off to work first.

Come on, girls, downstairs.

So quiet was Jo always -

so timorous, yet eager to please,

that she was the one I chose first.

Where you going, then, Jo?

- Nowhere special.
- Oh.

Let's go down the bank then, eh?

How about it, Jo?

Down the bank - like before.

What shall we do then, Jo?

What do you say, Jo?

I don't mind.

Come on, you tell.

No, you.

Good morning, Mrs. Jenkins.
What seems to be the trouble?

Well, that'll be all, Mrs. Jenkins.

I'll be back again tomorrow.

That early exploration of Jo's spread body
was a solitary studying of maps.

The signs upon her
showed the way I should go,

then she was folded and put away.

Very soon, I caught up with other travelers,
all going in the same direction,

and together we entered that tricky wood.

All right, all right, all right. Patience!

- Does anyone want tea?
- Yeah.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

Did you hear him in the night?

Did you hear him screeching?

Hear who screeching?

The death bird.

She's been took.

Her up the top. Her's gone.

I knew it. I knew I'd outlast her.

# Abide with me

# Fast falls the eventide

# The darkness deepens

# Lord with me abide

# When other helpers fail
and comforts flee

# Help of the helpless

# O, abide with me #

That's a lie!

Her up the top's a varmint. It's a lie.

The baggage were younger than me.

Ninety-five she says?

Isn�t no more than ninety,
and I gone on ninety-two.

It's a crime... you letting her go to her maker
in such a brazen lie.

Dig her up, you.

Get that brass plate off.

It's an insult to the living church.

She's a liar!

A mortal liar.

The clump of clay falling on Gran Trill's
coffin sealed her with her inscription forever.

You dig her up
and bury her at the crossroads!

Granny Wallon had triumphed.

She had buried her rival
and now there was no more to do.

About two weeks later,
of no special disease,

Granny Wallon gave up in her sleep.

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses

as we forgive those who trespass against us,

and lead us not into temptation...

Our village was clearly no pagan paradise.

Neither were we conscious
of showing tolerance.

We certainly committed our share
of statutory crime.

Manslaughter, arson, robbery, rape,

cropped up regularly throughout the years.

She won't be no trouble.

Ain't never done nothing like this before.

There's nothing to it.

Have you done it before?

Sort of, so I goes first.

- Why's that?
- It was my idea, I goes first.

What's it like, then?

You won't be disappointed.

We emerged culpable, it's true,
but unclassified in criminal record.

As for our leaders,
those red-fanged ravishers of innocence,

what happened to them in the end?

Boney was raped himself soon afterwards
and married his attacker, a rich farm widow,

who worked him to death in her bed
and barnyard.

The others married too,
raised large families

and became members
of the parish church council.

Look out! Oh!

Oh, God!

Ow!

- Oh!
- Down we go.

# Pretty bubbles in the... # Oh!

Dear me, what a state he's in.

He smells funny.

Smells sort of oily.

Stinks of whisky.

Fancy him crashing into the lavvy, Mother.

- Let me in!
- Who is it?

Beattie Burroughs.

Is your brother Ray in there with you?

- Ye...
- Don't. Shh.

Ray!

Ah! Oh!

Ray!

What's the matter, Beattie?

- I want your Ray.
- Oh, erm... do you?

Erm... what do you want him for?

He promised to marry me!

- Oh.
- What you been doing here?

Oh... just washing a few old clothes.

So, he promised to marry you, did he?

Three times.

Under the Stroud Brewery arches.

I come to settle the arrangements.

Right.

Well...

I'll see if he's in for you, Beattie.

You do that, Mrs. Lee.

Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones, sir, come quick now!

Damn it!

What's up, then, Fred?

Ain't nobody told you?

Who'd have thought it?

Thought what, Fred?

- Tell us, Fred.
- Go on, tell us.

I was just coming from milking, see?

Yes.

- Passing Jones's pond.
- Was you?

I stopped for a minute
to chuck a stone at a rat.

I gets tuppence a tail.

We know that, Fred.

Oi.

Down by the lily weeds,
there was something floating.

All spread out, white, in the water.

Well, I thought of a dead swan,

or at least one of Jones's goats
fell in and drowned.

When I got closer...

there she was.

You could've knocked me down.

Miss Flynn.

She didn't have a stitch on.

Her eyes was wide open.

She was staring up through the water like...

like someone was gazing though a window.

Oh, poor woman.

She had a bit of a handicap, you know.

Poor lady.

- You mean about those fellows?
- Well...

more than that.

I've been bad, missus.

It's my mother again, you know.

I've been trying to keep
her sick spirit from me.

She don't leave me alone at nights.

The pond was empty.

She'd been carried home on a hurdle
and the women had seen to her body,

but for me, as long as I can remember,

Miss Flynn remained drowned in that pond.

The wet winter days
seemed, at times, unending,

and quite often,
they led to self-slaughter.

Indeed, during one particularly
gloomy season,

even the coroner did himself in.

Mr. and Mrs. Brown?

Joseph?

Hannah?

There's nothing for it,
they'll have to be moved.

Oh, I could come in and tidy up,
help out a bit. Light that fire for them.

No, Mrs. Lee, you've got your own family.

Mrs. Brown will be in the women's wing,
naturally.

Mr. Brown will be with the men.

They want to be together.

They always have.

Well, they can meet each other,
every second Thursday.

So that same afternoon,
white and speechless,

they were taken away to the workhouse.

The workhouse could not give them
the mercy they needed.

It could only divide them in charity.

It was the first time in all their 50 years
that they had been separated.

They did not see each other again,

for in a week they both were dead.

I was haunted by their end as by no other,

and by the kind killing authority
that arranged it.

Divided, their life went out of them,

so that they ceased
as by mutual agreement.

Their cottage stood empty
on the edge of the common,

its front door locked and soundless.

Its stones grew rapidly cold and repellent
with its life so suddenly withdrawn.

In a year it fell down.

First the roof, then the walls,

and lay scattered in a tangle of briars.

Its decay was so violent and overwhelming,

it was as though the old couple
had wrecked it themselves.

Soon all that remained
of Joe and Hannah Brown

and of their long, close life together,

was some grass-grown stumps,
a garden gone wild,

some rusty pots and a dog rose.

The last days of my childhood
were also the last days of the village.

I belong to that generation
which saw, by chance,

the end of a thousand years� life.

Myself, my family, my generation,
were born in a world of silence,

of white narrow roads,
rutted with hooves and cartwheels,

innocent of oil or petrol,

down which people passed rarely,
and almost never for pleasure,

and the horse was the fastest thing moving.

A bit late, aren't you, you two?

We've finished our supper.

We don't need no supper, Ma.

Oh, don't you? What's he gonna do
with you, then - starve you to death?

Listen, Harold,
I said you could take our Phyllis out,

I did not say you could keep her out all hours,

piano playing and singing round the pub
or whatever it is you get up to.

Harold's got something to tell you, Ma.

Oh, spit it out, then...

even if it's only a bucketful.

Don't just stand there as stiff as can be.

I'm all right, Mrs. Lee, I assure you.

Ma... we've been thinking...

Oh, have you? Makes a change.
What you been thinking about?

Phyllis has just about had enough, Mrs. Lee.

It's time I took her out of here altogether.

What's that?

What's that - double Dutch?
What's that supposed to mean?

It means I'm leaving home, Mother.
I'm going to live in with Harold.

- Our Phyl!
- You're never?

You'd do the same
if you had a proper fella to go to.

- Don't talk so daft.
- We're not daft.

We means it, Mother.

No, you can't.

Oh, Phyllis, Phyllis, you can't leave me.

We can.

And we're gonna too.

Me?

Me, what am I expected to feel? Don't
suppose you've thought about that, have you?

- I'm sorry, Mrs Lee.
- Sorry?

You're not sorry,
you haven't the brains to be sorry.

It's cruel, that's what it is, it's cruelty!

Me? I never got a chance!

I was put into service. Five pound a year.

What's your father gonna say
when he gets home?

- He don't say nothing.
- He's never coming back.

You!

You!

- You!
- Aargh! Oh!

Get off! Get off.

- Don't you hit our mother!
- I ain't, she's hitting me.

Ow!

Who do you think you are?

You're nothing!

You walk in here, bold as brass, and think
you can walk out of here, bold as brass.

Ah! I think you're all mad.

- I'll show you how mad we are.
- Aargh!

- Oh! Aargh!
- Ah!

We gotta save our mother's life.

Oh!

Ah!

Oh.

Ohh!

It's all right...
we're all friends now.

Aren't we, Harold?

- Mm?
- I suppose so, Mrs. Lee.

Yeah, dear boy.

Oh, Mother... I'm so sorry.

Oh, it's nothing.

I'm sure it's nothing.

Hm?

- We won't go.
- Mm.

Not yet anyway.

Oh, our Phyllis,
we love you, don't we, Doth?

Course we do. And Harold.

- Ohh!
- Who sings so beautifully.

Now, you won't say no to a cup of cocoa?

Very kind of you, Mrs. Lee.

Kind?

Course I'm kind.

We're all kind, aren't we, darlings?

Come on, then. Cocoa.

He had tried to carry off our willing sister,

and we had all of us very near killed him.

A moment before I'd been blind with anger,

ready to slay for the family.

Now the rage was over,
cancelled, let down.

I turned in disgust
from their billing and cooing,

went up to the fire, lifted my nightshirt
and warmed my bare legs on the fireguard.

What are you doing here, Rosie Burdock?

I like it here. I likes the smell of it.

You likes watching others working.

Oh, yeah, I likes that too.

Will you get out of it?
Unless you want to shift a bit of hay.

We don't need no watchers. Go on.

Not yet.

- Why not yet?
- Cos I got something to show you.

What is it, then?

You'll know when you sees it.

You thirsty?

I ain't, so there.

That's a lie.

No, it's not.

You know you be thirsty.
So come on, you follow me.

What's that, then?

It's cider.

You ain't to drink it though.

Well, not much of it, at any rate.

Go on, then, drink it. Don't act about.

Never to be forgotten,

that first long secret drink of golden fire.

Juice of those valleys and of that time,

wine of wild orchards, of russet summer,
of plump red apples

and Rosie's burning cheeks.

Never to be forgotten or ever tasted again.

What you doing?

Decorating our room.

What you talking about?

You told me, don't you remember,
how you was really royal?

Well, this is our room in the palace.

Stop talking rubbish, Rosie Burdock.

Am I?

Rosie was close-up, salty, an invisible touch
too near to be seen or measured.

And it seemed that the wagon under which
we lay went floating away like a barge

out over the valley where we worked unseen,
swinging on motionless tides.

You are the king's son
and I'm the princess.

All we'd have to do is pull the bell

and servants would come up
with bowls of milk.

For us to drink?

No, stupid, for me to wash my feet in.

Then there's breakfast.

Bacon rashers.

Of course.

Fried potatoes, strawberries and eggs.

What kind of eggs?

Oh, peacock's, I suppose.

I don't think I ever had a peacock's egg.

Me neither.

Laurie!

Where are you, Laurie?

Laurie Lee?

Answer me, Laurie!

Right, damn you, I'm going home!

Laurie?

Let him go.

I liked you better than Bill Trimble.

And Boney.

And the curate.

You're even prettier than Jo.

What was Bill like?

Hopeless.

How you feeling now?

Like a giant!

You're mad, Laurie Lee.

Mad as can be.

I'm king. I'm king of the world and more.

I told you.

I felt magnificent, fateful,
and for the first time in my life,

invulnerable to the perils of the night.

But here I lost Rosie for good.

It was then that I began to sit on my bed

and to make up poems
from intense abstraction.

Time squared itself and the village shrank

and distances crept nearer.

The sun and moon,
which once rose from our hill,

rose from London now, in the east.

Now, mind you write, now. Mm?

Mind you write.

While sisters called me,

suns rose and fell

and the poems I made,
which I never remembered,

were the first and last of that time.

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