Original subtitles

Hello?

Nelly?

Yes?

It's Mabel. What?

Mabel.

Who?

Mabel Ince.

Oh, yes.

We've just heard and we thought

we ought to let you know that poor Dench, she's dead.

Who?

Dench. Dench?

Yes, poor, darling Denchy.

I thought she died years ago,

must have been 100.

Oh, nonsense, Nelly.

She was old in the War.

She was wonderful in the War.

Eh, Nelly, Fanny is with me.

Who?

Fanny Soane.

Oh, Fanny.

Thought she was dead, too.

Oh, what is she saying?

Oh, she's absolutely hopeless.

We thought we ought to do something, put in a tribute.

A what?

A tribute to Dench in "The Times."

I don't know about "The Times" anymore.

- Well, then-- - Let me.

"The Telegraph," perhaps.

Yes, all right, then, "The Telegraph."

So you do agree--

Sorry, I can't go on.

It's too expensive.

Nelly, I'm paying for the call.

Nelly?

She's hung up.

Oh, Nelly Benson is impossible, absolutely ga-ga.

Oh, she's always been impossible.

She wasn't in the least bit interested

about poor, old Dench.

When one thinks how much Denchy

did for those awful children--

Saw the famous Charlotte through various pneumonia,

didn't she?

Oh, she did.

Nelly just went off to join Charles in Geneva, left dear

old Dench to it.

It wasn't as though Dench was ever paid, or anything.

At least, I never paid her.

Did you?

Oh, no, just her keep.

Well, I just couldn't, I mean, she-- she never asked.

No-- poor as a church mouse, probably.

One just fed her.

She came to stay.

'To stop, as she called it.

Oh, yes, 'to stop'--

so she did, bless her.

What did I do with that?

I suppose "The Telegraph" is all right?

Oh, Dench adored "The Times," didn't she?

I don't believe she could have born life

without the Court Circular.

"It rivets me," she used to say.

"It rivets me."

Mabel, what are you looking for?

I found a photograph of Dench only the other day.

I must have To put it somewhere.

Do you think she was ill very long?

For the last Christmas card I had from her was shaky.

In fact, I think there was only the signature.

And the little message was written by some niece.

Hm.

Oh, do you want some more tea?

No, dear, thank you.

Did you ever get a sort of begging letter about Dench?

Oh, yes.

I think that was from the niece, too.

She wanted to get poor Dench into some sort

of private nursing home.

I meant to send a fiver or something,

but it was just before we went off to Penang.

I do hate that sort of letter-- it's so embarrassing

all around.

One feels one can't possibly do enough, so one does nothing.

Now, of course, we just have our service pension.

So do we.

Hm, we could do with a whip around ourselves.

I wish we had a niece.

I did feel a bit dreadful about it, though.

I think if we did this tribute now,

I should feel better about it. Shall we ring around?

Yes, let's-- there must be half a dozen

families who want to join in.

It's about, uh, two pounds a line, isn't it?

Yes, all we need say is "In memory of dear Dench,

beloved nanny."

Oh, I think "--and friend--

Nanny and friend for many years," and the names

of the families.

I think it's a very nice idea, Mabel.

If we get enough people, it shouldn't

come to more than say, what, a pound each, eh, should it?

Well, that's the least we can do, I mean, isn't it--

With or without Nelly Benson.

Humphrey!

Hello?

Mabel? - Nelly?

Had this letter.

Letter?

From the niece.

Ah, yes, we all did.

What?

Fanny and I did, too.

The niece wants to meet us.

Yes.

We thought somewhere like Fortnums for lunch.

A lunch?

Much too expensive.

Oh, well, somewhere nice.

And we won't put anything in the newspaper.

Why not?

It's just the point--

we'll make the lunch our tribute.

It's utter nonsense, anyway.

Oh, silly old bag.

Sandwiches are on the table, Roderic.

And only two sugars in your tea, dear--

you know it's bad for you.

Mabel, we must hurry--

I'm sure we're late.

Eh, you grow your own vegetables?

Divine.

I just couldn't find you.

I thought it was Wimbledon, but, well, really,

it's Rayne's Park, isn't it?

Oh, an elephant's foot!

Oh, it's a boot-scraper.

Oh, what a good idea.

It's a far cry the maharaja's palace, I'm afraid.

Well, at least Dench has been spared

seeing what's become of us all.

Used to talk about love of country.

Do you remember how she stood for the national anthem?

Well, now we all did that.

We still do-- don't you?

No, not like Dench did.

I mean, to attention, like a ramrod.

Half a lifetime of invitations--

menus, notes, guest lists.

Do you remember Prague?

Those high ceilings--

someone once told me why ceilings at embassies

are always so high-- it's to take the noise

of the cocktail parties.

Didn't old Dench love cocktail parties?

Oh, I used to let her watch, sometimes--

you know, with the children on the landing,

out of sight, of course.

I've just thought of Nelly's invitation.

Gloves.

Gloves.

Lots of left-hand courting--

"Gloves will be worn."

My God-- is-- is that her?

Nelly, you're not going in bedroom slippers.

Well, why get me feet into it, except Wellingtons?

Go about-- I have this house to run.

Nelly, I do think you--

I use my Wellies for gardening.

Bedroom slippers are not suitable for lunch, Nelly.

Well, I think I have a pair of Dr. Scholls somewhere.

I remember that hat, Mabel.

You bought it for the queen's birthday-do once

in Dar es Salaam, which reminded me of a dead blackbird.

I think perhaps we're out of the fourth form now, Nelly.

Where are you now, Mabel?

I heard you had to sell the castle.

I suppose old Humphrey lost his money.

Oh, Nelly, do be quiet.

Horses-- always lost on the horse, did Humphrey--

really flung it about.

Where do you live now? - Newbury.

Near the course, I suppose.

Not at all.

He watches on television.

I can't afford one.

And where do you live, Fanny?

Oh, Wimbledon.

Oh, that's a pity--

a long way from London--

fairer than Newbury, in a sense.

Fanny has a charming house--

Featherby Road, delicious red brick.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if it had

been designed by Norman Shaw.

Norman Shaw?

Wasn't he ADC in Panagarh? - Yes.

Terrible, old pansy.

Dench couldn't bear it.

Didn't approve.

I come up to town to the diplomatic wives.

Well, Dench would have approved of that.

Poor Dench-- she was never a wife.

There was a man once, though.

The children used to tease her about him--

some Brazilian millionaire, a widower.

No, no, not a widower-- very much married--

Catholic.

What was his name?

The children used to call him Mr. Salteena.

Mr. Salteena.

What did they do that?

It's from a book, Nelly.

Do you suppose he really existed?

Well, I have no idea.

Do you think she was a lesbian?

Well, I mean some nannies are, subconsciously, of course.

Dench a subconscious--

ready.

Mrs. Ince.

Oh, yes-- your table.

This is nice.

We can see everything here.

Oh, thank you.

I'm sorry, they seem to have held a corner table for you,

if you'd be so kind.

Waiter!

Waiter!

Oh, really, they shove our way to a corner

then completely ignore us.

Young man?

Ma'am?

We're expecting a young woman to join us, a Miss Dench.

Would you please show her to this table?

She will ask for Lady Benson.

Yes, ma'am.

How will we know her, the niece?

She's quite young, isn't she?

Sounded quite young in the letter.

She's probably the great niece.

A little sherry while you're waiting, madam?

Not yet, thank you.

Thank you, madam.

How are we going to know her?

Any of these women could be nieces, eating their lunch.

Well, a lot of people are nieces and eat lunch.

I mean, we've all been nieces.

Oh, not primarily.

We were never primarily nieces To be niece is probably

their only function in life.

I think I once saw Dench's niece.

Nieces, nieces, what are you talking about?

I went down to East Moseley about seven or eight years ago

to see Dench and I think it was the niece who let me in--

nice little woman.

Yes, I think I shall remember the face when I see it.

Masses of ironing about.

Ironing?

Yes, on arrows.

You know, those old-fashioned standing arrows,

all over the sitting room.

Ironing?

Oh, beautiful ironing, it was.

I remember the smell--

a lovely, clean, warm clothes smell.

Huh-- and Denchy in a bed in the corner.

Oh, she did look so small.

Yes, a very good sort of woman, I should think, the niece.

Bed in the sitting room?

Oh, I suppose that's what you meant about the nursing home.

Oh, come one, Dench was no trouble.

Ate like a bird.

Yes, Dench was cheap.

During the war--

I found that photograph.

If ever we got anything on the black market--

there were some eggs once.

Mabel has an old photo of Dench.

Not on her own, of course-- with the children.

Which one is Dench?

Oh, don't be so provoking, Nelly.

That's Dench with my three.

There are four children.

That's what made me think of it.

We were at home at the time, in Lincolnshire.

And somebody brought us six beautiful eggs--

well, fresh eggs during the War.

We had them boiled as a treat.

There was Humph and I, and my three, and this little thing

who was staying with us--

Polly Knox.

Oh, you remember the Knoxes--

pretty child, ancient daughter.

Although, there was two, of course.

The eggs, dear.

Hm?

Oh, well, there were seven of us and only six eggs,

and somebody said, what about Dench?

And little Polly Knox said, you shall have half mine, Denchy.

And Denchy absolutely straight away, said, thank you, my dear,

but I do take eggs.

She used to say that about cream--

thank you, I do not take cream.

Mm, she had a pretty good life, I should think,

old Denchy.

I wonder if she ever got the old age pension?

I never paid her stamp--

did you?

Oh, do you think we should have sherry?

Yes.

All right, yes-- well, she's very late, the niece.

We'll have sherry.

Waiter?

Waiter?

Three sherries, please-- very dry--

ooh, dry? - Yes.

Dry? Very dry.

Yes, madam.

What about ordering some wine?

Well, this is a tribute, isn't it,

and I want the niece to think that we've

done things properly.

Do they have half bottles?

We can't order wine--

we don't know what the niece is going to eat.

Nelly, don't be so tiresome.

Where's my bag?

Someone's stolen my shopping bag.

I can't think anyone would want to.

Oh, look, Nelly. There it is.

Do take care.

Oh, I wonder if I have time before

that wretched niece arrives to go down to that fish place?

I thought I'd get some Finnan haddock.

Frightfully expensive, Nelly.

Yes, frightfully.

At least it's a B Finnan and haddock--

where I live, they're just as likely to pass

off a piece of dyed cod.

But I think we should all be here when the nieces comes.

Mm, if she comes, which I'm beginning to doubt.

Well, what does she want us for?

It was in the latter, Nelly--

mementos.

Well, I think we should order.

She's obviously not coming now.

You'd be lucky to catch his eye.

Well, let's all know what they're going to have--

how about chicken ala king all around?

Well, I don't want anything to start with.

Oh, no, nothing to start with.

We don't want to spend money if the niece isn't coming.

Well, a salad with the chicken?

Green salad.

I want vegetables.

Never seem to eat vegetables.

I was trying to remember when we first met Dench.

I found her--

$1.25?

--in Jamaica on her way back from Rio, sitting all

alone at a table at The Mona.

And I thought, what a charming, little woman.

And she looked so sad.

I suppose she just left Mr. Salteena.

She was sad.

Mm, not a bean.

Well, the children took to her, and I thought,

she might be just the thing and I took her on.

That was over 40 years ago.

Oh, devoted, utterly reliable, but-- but so sad.

We used to send her good presents, though.

A pound of tea at Christmas when we're in salon.

My dear, that woman's coming over to our table.

And that can't be the niece, can it?

Oh, not if she's bringing parcels

this one is now carrying.

Dears-- I am so terribly sorry.

I was late getting away, and we found it so difficult to park.

Chedward couldn't stay with the car because of the parcels.

On the shelf, Chedward, don't you think?

I do hope you went ahead--

oh, dear.

Thank you.

I'm afraid they're nothing much.

She said in the will that you were to have mementos,

but she had so little.

You'd not believe how little--

so few possessions. Thank you, Chedward.

Well, champagne?

Thank you.

We are here to celebrate the life, a happy life of one

of the dearest, dearest, old--

I won't call this an 'in memoriam.'

Denchy couldn't bear to talk about anything gloomy.

She led the happiest life and died peacefully

thinking about us all.

A good dry-- that one, number six.

Certainly, madam.

Thank you.

Well.

I'm sure we're all very glad to know

that Dench was so happy.

Did you say ironing?

I believe she talked about you three more than anyone else.

Day after day, year in, year out--

all the places she'd seen through you

and how you rescued her, Mrs. Ince, when she was in very

low water, and gave her an absolutely free

hand with all your children, and even grandchildren,

Lady Benson.

Ah, how nice.

We all grew to rely on her very much.

She always knew her--

Oh, just pour it out.

Uh, would it be an awful bore

to put the champagne on a separate bill for me,

and then anything--

And she wanted us

to pay for the nursing home--

my God.

We all knew Dench for a great number of years.

A great number of years.

She was a very good servant.

And friend-- nanny and friend.

We were all devoted to her.

Do you remember the roses?

Persia-- Dench was looking after your children,

Lady Benson, when Simon, wasn't it, kicked her?

And your daughter said, Dench must have some roses,

and took the secateurs and a basket,

and led her out into the garden?

And you leaned out of the window and said, only three, now.

Three roses-- priceless.

You do remember those gardens?

One of the sites of Persia--

2,000 rose trees.

Ah, Dench, she laughed.

I wouldn't have thought Denchy had enough room

for displaying a lot of roses.

Oh, of course not, she was always in the attic.

She wasn't minding, it just made us both laugh when she told it.

To Dench.

To Dench.

To Dench.

I felt, personally, very sorry about the nursing home

business.

I'd liked to have helped Dench, even taken her myself,

for a week or two, just to help the family out,

but we were abroad.

Oh, but she refused, didn't you know?

You mustn't worry.

It was all settled about the nursing home

without your kind help.

I promise you, she never knew you'd been asked.

She always had my shoes.

The one thing I miss most, if you really want to know--

good shoes.

The shoes are still there--

rows and rows.

They're very old-fashioned, but if you wish,

I could let you have them back, I'm sure.

Dench never wore them-- they were too big.

Though she was a lamb, I'm sure she never told you.

And these--

Ma'am.

--these are the little mementos.

All I could find, and I am so sorry--

Mrs. Ince, Lady Benson.

Just little brass things--

a Banares tray, a hand-bell.

Oh-- thank you--

an elephant's foot.

It could be adapted as a boot scraper.

Well, it's very good of you to bother.

Very good.

I-- I feel honored--

to think that these things were all she had

and she left them to us.

All she had.

Well, except for the money.

Money?

The South American money.

Dench?

From Mr. Salteena, as we used to call him.

You mean, he did exist?

Oh, yes, Mr. Salteena existed.

He left her $400--

Sweet.

--thousand-- $400,000.

He died only a short time before she did, but there it was.

She left $200,000 of it to her niece.

Aren't you the niece?

Me?

Oh, darling, darling, Lady Benson, didn't I say?

Didn't-- didn't you recognize me?

Oh, dear, of course, it's been so long.

Oh, how silly-- I was so fussed being late I forgot to say--

her niece said no.

She couldn't face it, coming up to London to, as she called it,

'this posh place.'

The money hasn't altered her a bit.

She said she had the ironing.

Ironing.

Well, then, who are--

But I'm Polly Knox.

You must remember me--

Polly Knox.

I've kept in touch with Dench all these years.

She left the other $200,000 to me,

and I've been astounded and quite speechless ever since.

Her niece said, Dench just lay there

in bed with the solicitor's letter on the counterpane

and smiled.

And her niece asked her, why Polly Knox, Auntie?

And dear old Dench said--

I mean, I must say, I've wondered

been ever since what on earth?

She meant.

What did she say?

She just said, tell Polly, she shall have half my egg.