All language subtitles for Pie.in.the.Sky.S03E03.Irish.Stew.AMZN-Hi OFF

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There she is.

Kit!
Kit, here!

Ah!

Kit!

And you!

Darling, come and meet
the family.

Hello, I´m Matt.
I´m the eldest.

Nice to meet you, Matt.

Peter, the youngest,
until our Kit came along.

Luke.
Great to meet you.

Hello, Luke.
How are you?

Ned.

Welcome to the Kelly clan,
Mr. de Goris.

Thank you, Ned.
I´m glad to be a part of it.

And this is the mother
of all the Kellys.

Ma, come and meet my new
husband, Byron de Goris.

Ah, Mrs. Kelly.
I´m very pleased to meet you.

-Mmm.

She was never much of a talker,

but you could always speak
volumes

with your look,
couldn´t you, Ma?

I´ll get that, shall I?

Pie in the Sky.

Oh, hello, Mrs. Cartwright.
How are you?

Do you want a taste?

No, no, you go ahead.

Oh, dear, I am sorry.

No, no, of course.
I quite understand.

Yes.

- No.
- Yes.

There´s something
not quite right with that.

Don´t blame me.
It was your choice.

Only because the Cartwrights
asked for it specially.

They´ve just canceled.

-But --

Influenza.

What, all six of them?

I´ve spent hours.

Well, don´t worry.
Somebody will eat it.

After all, some people
will eat almost anything.

Instant energy, Henry.
You should try some someday.

And this from the woman

who every night falls asleep
in mid-sentence.

Pie in the Sky.

Hello, Matt.

Oh.

Today?

Oh, I don´t think the accounts
are gonna be ready today.

It´s not.

Oh, yes, of course.

Oh.
I´ll come now if you like.

No, it´s no problem.

And yet can find the energy
to chat up a client.

The Kelly account
is what pays the butcher,

the baker, and
the red-wine maker, Henry!

Don´t forget Tilly, now.

If you do that one more time,
I´ll get your father onto you!

Time for the bar, lads.

So, Byron, what´s your poison?

Not for me.
Thanks.

I´ve got a couple of calls
to make --

my agent,
the television company.

I´ll come with you.

Oh, oh, it´s all right,
sweetheart.

Your family have
come especially to see you.

I´m with you.

I won´t disturb you.
Promise.

So, what do you make
of your man, then?

He´s not
what you´d call a talker.

He´s a writer.

They think long.

He´s a gobsmacked writer.

Didn´t realize until today
he´d married into a dynasty.

Marry in haste...

♫ Life is
just a bowl of cherries ♫

♫ You work, you play,
you worry so ♫

♫ But you can´t take it with you
when you go, go -- ♫

Look, I´m sorry I said that
about the Kelly account.

Your work pays just as many
bills as mine does, Henry.

-Right.
-Catch-22.

What?

Well, I mean, life -- It´s not a
bowl of fruit, is it, Margaret?

See, your accountancy
and my police work

are actually paying
to keep the restaurant going,

and at the same time,
it´s keeping us more and more

away from the restaurant,

which is actually the place
we´d rather be.

See, that´s life.

That´s the catch.

Henry, you are going to have to
buck up, you know.

When the chef is down,
the takings are down.

Yes, but it´s the chef´s wife
that they see out front.

Meaning?

Speak to me.

Last night,
I took a superb spinach soufflé

straight from the oven over
to table 4, and you yawned.

Oh!

She did.
She yawned.

And the soufflé sighed and sank.

Oh, don´t be ridiculous, Henry.

Soufflés don´t have feelings.

Sorry to interrupt.

No, no, no.
Not at all.

Your timing is impeccable
as usual, Sergeant Cambridge.

No more soufflés
or other neurotic puddings

until further notice
by order of the chef´s wife.

All right?

I´ve got some really cheerful
King Edwards here.

Hand-reared.
No hang-ups.

Nice one, Henderson.

She loves you, really.

You think so?

Thank you, Mr. Chepstow.

I look forward to meeting you,
too.

Goodbye.

I have a meeting
with the producer in an hour.

Then you´ll be wanting a shower
and a change of clothes.

Since when does
the police petrol budget

stretch as far as sending
a detective inspector

and a detective sergeant
to arrest a petty thief

who´s probably working
on the staff anyway?

Since the wife of the manager
of the Barstock Grange Hotel

started playing tennis with
the wife of the chief constable.

Oh, perfect.

My staff all have
impeccable references.

Oh, they usually do, sir.

You mean forgeries?

No, not necessarily.

Some thieves are very good
at their legitimate jobs.

Excuse me.

Sir.

There´s been another theft.

I don´t believe
this is happening.

We shall, of course, arrange
compensation, sir.

Those documents
are irreplaceable.

I need them.

That briefcase
belonged to my father.

Could you give
Sergeant Cambridge a list, sir?

A list?

Of the contents.

Look, I can´t handle this
right now.

I´m late for a meeting.

Darling, will you take care
of it for me?

I won´t be long.

My wallet.
It was on the bed.

Okay.
Take my card.

Get lots of cash for both of us.

Now, here´s the magic number.

We´ll sort it all out later,
okay?

Now you go and sock it
to that producer, sweetheart.

Tell him if he doesn´t sign
the contract,

I´ll break all his windows.

I really think you ought to
cancel all those bank cards

and credit cards at once, sir.

You didn´t see or hear anything?

Newlyweds.

Her third husband, I´m told.

Mm.
And him?

Oh, never been married before.

Looks and money.

Worth waiting for, eh?

No.

How long did it take you
to discover this?

Oh.

Our Kit always liked older men.

Eloped with the first
when she was just 17.

And him pushing 30.

Drunk himself to death
before he was 35.

Fell into a river and drowned.

God rest him.

That´s terrible.

She had him well-insured.

And number two?

The insurance man.

He advised her
how to invest the money.

Doubled her assets.
Married her within the year.

Dropped dead on a squash court.

God rest him.

Well, your sister´s
certainly been unfortunate.

He left her a small fortune.

In cash and kind.

And the new husband?

-Rolling in it.

Any American TV series you care
to name, he´s written episodes.

He´s here to do a deal
with a big English producer.

So, you see me problem,
Margaret?

What do I give to the little
sister who has everything?

Matt, I think
your idea is perfect.

-Leave it to me.

Here´s to Kit.

Third time lucky.

What do you make of it,
Cambridge?

Member of staff,
like you said, sir.

No, not the thief.
The victim.

I mean, the loss of the wallet
was merely inconvenient,

but the loss of the briefcase
was devastating.

I wonder what was in it.

I don´t know.

The only copy
of his latest script?

No, no, no, no.
He said documents.

Irreplaceable documents.

Yet he couldn´t spare
two minutes

-to tell us what they were.
-Mm.

Well, perhaps he´s more upset
about the briefcase itself.

After all, he did say
it was his father´s.

-Mm-hmm.

No, I don´t think
he´s the type, somehow.

And he wasn´t just a bit upset,
you know.

He was scared.

That´s another thing
I wonder about.

Well, we are here, sir, to
investigate a series of thefts.

Mm.

Look, if you find
that briefcase,

talk to me before you tell
de Goris, all right?

Byron de Goris.

I´ll have a word with him, sir.

Henry, what are you doing here?

Same as you, dear.
Working.

Oh, Matt, meet my husband.

Matt Kelly.
Henry Crabbe.

Oh, very pleased to meet you,
Mr. Crabbe.

Can´t begin to tell you

how much we´re all looking
forward to Wednesday.

What Wednesday?

Mm.

Margaret. Margaret!

How are you on champ, Henry?

Margaret.

Potatoes mashed
with young nettle tops.

I know.

Well, I´m sure Henderson
has got a load of nettles

cluttering up
the edges of his fields.

I will not do it.

You could substitute
spring onions if you --

Henry, will you stop
looking at me like that?

Matt Kelly has hired the entire
restaurant for a whole day.

Not if I´m gonna be supervised
in my own kitchen, he´s not.

She is not going to supervise.
She is not going to cook.

The bride will select a recipe
from the grandmother´s cookbook,

and you will make the banquet
for the wedding feast.

Here´s the book,
and here is Matt Kelly´s check.

And that´s just
for the exclusive hire

of the restaurant.

On top of that, you get to spend
as much as you like

on the best ingredients,
the best wine.

Come on, Henry.

Don´t tell me you´re not
the teeniest bit tempted.

If Matt Kelly´s sister
is gonna pass judgment

on my cooking in my kitchen,
then, no, I´m not.

Kit´s not like that.

Well, how would you know?
You´ve never even met her.

No, but I know what she means
to her brothers.

They adore her.

Apparently, the grandmother

was a cook in
a big Anglo-Irish household.

And Kit used to visit there
as a child, sit in the kitchen,

and imagine all this fancy food
was for her.

Well, I think this wedding feast

is a really romantic gift,
Henry.

I thought your chef´s heart
would be touched.

Oh, yeah.

"Beef braised with
onions, carrots, and Guinness."

Do you know, I first tasted that
in France when I was a boy.

Ragout à l´Irlandaise.

The chef prepared it
in the 19th-century manner.

You see, you take prunes
and stuff them with hazelnuts

and put them in about half an
hour before the meat´s cooked.

Well, anything a French chef
can do, you can do better.

Um, have you met
Kit Kelly´s husband?

No. Why?

Oh, I was just wondering.

"Salmon.

The fish that ate
from the tree of knowledge.

Whosoever shall eat
the first slice

will inherit that knowledge."

Hmm.

Thank you for organizing this
so quickly, Mr. Chepstow.

It´s the first good thing
in a not-so-good day.

I appreciate it.

Not to worry, Mr. de Goris.

I can proceed
with the photocopies

you sent me from America

until the police recover
the original documents.

What if they don´t?

The certificates can all be
replaced if necessary.

Will that take long?

A week, 10 days
for the birth certificate.

The American marriage
certificate may take longer.

But this can be processed
in 24 hours.

Great.

And, of course,
I´ll call you at the hotel

-as soon as it´s cleared.
-No, no.

I´ll call you.

Oh.

Can you keep a secret,
Mr. Chepstow?

I´m a solicitor, Mr. de Goris.

Right.

My wife doesn´t know the real
reason for this trip to England,

and I want to surprise her.

Give her
a belated wedding present.

I´d like to wait
until everything is finalized

before I tell her.

She´s a very special lady.

So, I must have been about 7 or
8 when she made the Dublin rock

for a wedding.

It was this gorgeous concoction.

And my granny said
if I touched it, she´d kill me.

So I said one day I would have
a Dublin rock all of my own.

And she said,
"That´s only for the gentry."

If my granny could see me now.

"Butter, sugar, cream,
egg whites,

orange-flower water,
brandy, and almonds."

And then you chill it overnight,
and you break it into pieces.

I was dying to do that bit,
and she wouldn´t let me.

You´ll let me, won´t you, Henry?

-Well...

-Good morning, Margaret.
-Morning.

Ah, hello.
You must be Mrs. Crabbe.

I´m Kit, Matt´s sister.

Isn´t he a peach
to have thought of this?

And isn´t your husband a darling
to have agreed?

Actually, do you know,
Margaret arranged it all.

I´m sorry, madam.

We´re completely booked up
on Wednesday.

Yeah.
Thursday´s fine.

Table for four, 7:30.

Okay. Bye.

Fanny O´Cradock
still in the kitchen?

Seducing Gary and Henderson
with the delights

of her spiced tongue
with cloves and parsley.

Mm.
And Henry.

Oh, uh, he´s gone out
with Sergeant Cambridge.

Did he remember to order
the wine before he went?

-No, but the wine list --
-It´s all right. I´ll do it.

Morning, sir.
Table for one?

No, I arranged to meet my wife
here -- Mrs. de Goris.

Kit.

Kit Kelly.

Oh.
Yes, sir.

She´s in the kitchen.

Mrs. de Goris.

Hello, darling.

Oh, right.
This is Margaret Crabbe.

And this is Nicola.

Crabbe?

Isn´t that the name
of the policeman?

She´s Inspector Crabbe´s wife.
This is their restaurant.

Oh.

Small world.
Rural England.

You better believe it, Byron.
Sit down.

Listen to this.

Sergeant Cambridge put the names

of all the Barstock Grange Hotel
staff into her computer,

and up his name came.

I mean, wouldn´t you think
a convicted thief

would have the wit
to change his name

or at least not put the goods
in his wardrobe?

She found my briefcase.
Where is it?

They´re at the hotel now,
checking.

I better get over there.

Oh. I wanted you to help me
choose a menu.

You know anything you want
is okay by me.

Mm. Okay.

So it´s fine by you
if I go back into the kitchen

and Henderson
the dishy potato king, hmm?

-Sounds fun.

Have a nice day, sweetheart.
I´ll see you later.

Okay.

Nice to meet you,
Nicola, Mrs. Crabbe.

-Bye.

Bye.

Isn´t he gorgeous?

Couldn´t you just eat him?

Flash sort of name, though,
isn´t it?

Brian de Goris.

Byron.

It´s after Lord Byron.

Lady Caroline Lamb said he was
mad, bad, and dangerous to know.

Fancied him rotten, did she?

All the women did.

Everything intact, sir?

Yes.
Thank you.

But the briefcase is more
important than any of this.

What was in it?

Just, uh, mementos,
family photographs, letters.

Nothing of any value
to anyone but me.

Don´t worry, sir.
We´ll find it.

This man always operates
in the same way.

He keeps the cash and
the credit cards for himself,

but then sells everything else
to a local dealer.

And you know
who this accomplice is?

Not yet, but it shouldn´t take
us too long to find out

which of his contacts
has actually got your briefcase.

And, well, we´ll be in touch
with you

as soon as we know for sure.

You can contact me at
the restaurant when you find it.

I´m gonna be tied up there
all day.

I´m supposed to prepare
a wedding banquet.

Do you know, the bride

has got looks
and lots and lots of money.

And the groom has got a wallet
full of overdrawn credit cards.

Sir, if he should find out

you´ve checked
his credit rating...

No, no, no.
I haven´t.

But he has.

And all the little bits
of plastic came bouncing back.

It´s just not been your day.

Has it, chummy?

Byron de Goris made a phone call
from the hotel

shortly before the burglary
occurred.

It´s a local number.

Oh, Kit wanted to make
some toffee for the Kelly kids.

Yellowman.
Here, try a bit.

Oh, no, no.
Thanks.

Oh, go on.
Go on. You´ll love it.

No.
I´m -- I´m...

Henry...

Never mind.

Mrs. de Goris.

Oh, I´ll take those.

I wonder
how much she knows about you.

Yes, Byron de Goris, please.

I´ve got to go out.

I won´t be long.

These are for Kit.

From her husband.

Whilst I´m gone,
I may try and remember

the last time
you gave me flowers, dear.

When was the last time
she bought me flowers?

That is the question.

-Thank you.

-Dublin coddle.

Ask a silly question.

Mmm. This is nearly
as good as my granny´s.

Nearly?

10 out of 10 for taste, Gary.

It´s just the consistency
isn´t quite right.

Oh.

Too much sauce perhaps.

What are they like?

No matter where you take them,
they have to go shopping.

Come in.

Oh, Mrs. Crabbe.
Kit´s not here.

She´s at your restaurant.

I know.

I´m not very good at writing
in anonymous hotel rooms.

You used to use a notebook
and a red pen.

You don´t remember me at all,
do you?

Carnaby Street.

1963.

You, me...

and your friend, Byron de Goris.

Mags.

Little Mags.

Margaret.

Byron was the only one
who ever called me Mags.

Where is he?

Still in the States?

Does he know you´re over here
pretending to be him?

Do you still drink white wine?

I don´t want a drink, James.

I want an explanation.

So we got married
by special license,

and we´re no sooner married
than he tells me

he has to come here
on this business trip.

So I said,
"Not without me, boy."

If the English women look at you
the same way American ones do,

I´m going to be right there
looking back.

Poor darling.

You should have seen his face

when my family arrived
at the airport.

Wasn´t he expecting them?

I wasn´t expecting them.

Isn´t our Matt wild
flying them all in like that?

More money than sense, as my
mother´s so fond of saying.

That old bat.

Do you know she´s raging

´cause she can find no fault
with Byron?

He´s got looks and charm
and money.

Nothing for her
to criticize this time.

He´s a wealthy man,
your husband?

I would have married him
if he´d been a pauper.

Have you known him long?

Uh, what day of the week is it?

Uh, Tuesday.

Um, that´s four weeks tomorrow.

Ho! Talk about
a whirlwind romance, eh?

Well, is there any other sort?

I´m sorry I didn´t
recognize you, Margaret.

Well, I recognized the name
before I realized it was you.

Common old James Jackson.

You were a lot of things, James.
Common wasn´t one of them.

I´m sorry
if I treated you badly.

I´m not here
to talk about the past.

I´m here to talk about now.
I want to know about Byron.

He was a good man.

The best, most decent person
I ever knew.

What?

The two of you were inseparable.
What happened?

Have you told Kit about this?

No.

Your husband?

No, I wanted to discuss it
with you first.

Can we keep this to ourselves
for a few days

until after the wedding party?

I want to tell Kit myself
when we´re alone again.

It´s nothing the whole Kelly
family needs to know about.

It´s nothing anybody else
needs to know about.

They never knew Byron.

I did.

Okay.
See you tomorrow.

-Bye.
-Bye, Nicola.

Um, is Margaret back yet?

I haven´t see her.

Hello.

Well, there´s a lot more here

than was stolen
from the Barstock Grange Hotel.

Might take a while
to find the briefcase.

Yes, yes, I´ll let you have it
as soon as we do.

Right.

That number you wanted traced.
It´s a solicitor´s office.

It´s Chepstow´s
in the High Street.

A solicitor´s?

A proper little Aladdin´s cave,
isn´t it, eh?

Is this it?

He called me his soul mate.
Remember?

It was the year
that rock ´n´ roll

became peace and love,

and we went to the West Coast
to see it for ourselves.

I loved San Francisco.
He missed England.

He wanted to come home,
but he stayed because of me.

I talked him into it.

"Give it a couple more months,"
I said.

"Just two more months,

and then if you´re still
not happy we´ll come home,

I promise."

Over 30 years ago,
I promised to bring him home.

What happened to him?

I can´t tell you
what happened to Byron

because I wasn´t with him.

We were at a party on the beach.

He went back
to our apartment building.

And he was alone
when he took the stuff.

They told me he was smiling
when he jumped off the roof.

Oh, my God.

The party was a celebration.

I had sold some poetry.

After the funeral,
I got the magazine

to put Byron´s name on it.

He was my dearest friend.

But Kit is Mrs. de Goris,
not Mrs. Jackson.

It´s my legal name.

I changed it when I became
an American citizen.

It was the name I´d become
known by in the States,

and it -- it felt right...

like I was keeping him alive.

He was a good man.

He deserved
a better friend than me.

And me.

I wasn´t very nice to him,
was I?

The thought
when I looked at the photograph,

how ashamed I felt,
how carelessly I treated him.

I don´t have a photo of him.

Or you.

Could I hold on to this
for a couple of days,

get a copy made
for old time´s sake?

Hello?

It´s your husband.

Tell him I´m on my way.

She´s on her way.

Mm-hmm.

You said you didn´t tell him.

I didn´t.

I didn´t, James.

Honestly.

Don´t be daft, Kit.

I knew her a long, long time
ago. That´s all.

I may be daft.
But I´m not deaf.

Now, she called you James.
Why?

So, why didn´t you tell me?

You were too busy being
Irish Chef of the Year.

Well, it was your idea.

Don´t remind me.

You know, I knew
there was something odd

about his behavior, but --

Well, I suspected it was
something else, you know.

Something to do
with Kit´s money perhaps,

or the Kellys´ business.

What´s odd is that he´s made
himself into Byron and James.

It´s like mixing oil and water.

I mean, they were great friends,

but they were different
in every way.

Nice legs.

Shame about the silly smile
on the face.

I was mad about him.

Which one?

Why didn´t you tell me?

Well, we haven´t
exactly done much talking

since we met, have we?

Would you ever have told me

if Margaret Crabbe
hadn´t recognized you?

I always intended to tell you

when we got to know
each other better.

Sweetheart...

...I´m sorry if I hurt you.

I wouldn´t do that
for the world.

I adore you, Kit.
You know that.

I don´t know what to call you.

Well, I´ve been called Byron
for over 30 years.

James is someone you never knew.

She knew you.

You jealous?

No, I´m not.

Come here.

Go on, admit it.

You´d much rather be
Mrs. Byron de Goris

than plain old Mrs. Jackson.

God, you´re a wicked man.

It was a warm summer.

And we used to sit outside
on the pavement,

drinking sweet German wine
from screw-top bottles.

Yes?

I didn´t say a word.

Good.

Byron de Goris was the only one
of the whole lot who knew

or even cared that I was so much
younger than the rest of them.

He was really nice to me,
a bit smitten,

and I treated him very shabbily.

You know,
pretended I fancied him

just to get close
to his best friend, James.

Who did you fancy
when you were 15, Henry?

Oh.

Sandie Shaw.

I wrote her a fan letter once

and got a signed photo
from her agent.

Well, I was the youngest member
of the James Jackson fan club.

I fancied him rotten.

All the girls did.

He was as charming then
as he is now.

Until he got what he wanted

and then he didn´t
want to know anymore.

Oh, not me, no.

Not for want of trying.

I was dying to go to the bed
with James.

I told him.

And he laughed.

Well, maybe Kit´s different.

Maybe he´s met his match.

I hope she gives
as good as she gets.

He treated women very badly.

You kept his photograph
all these years.

No, not especially.

It was just among
a lot of other old souvenirs.

It´s long forgotten.

Have you still got
Sandie Shaw´s photograph?

No, I pinned it up on the
bedroom wall, opposite a window,

and it just faded in the light.

Well.

These things do.

This is nice.

Well, I can´t remember the last
time we had a talk together,

just the two of us.

Come in.

Sergeant Cambridge
is downstairs.

Thank you, Nicola. Would you
tell her I´ll be right down?

Okay.

Come on, Miss Marple.

I´d like your professional
opinion on the contents

of a certain
mysterious briefcase.

Births, marriages, deaths.

It´s a potted history
of the de Goris family.

Plus this letter from
Chepstow´s, the solicitor´s,

confirming an appointment.

That´s who he called
from his hotel room, sir.

Ah. Then rushed straight to
after that burglary.

You know, he´s not here
to see a film producer at all.

He came here
to see the solicitor.

Wesford Parish Magazine.

Byron´s baptism
gets half a page.

Oh, yeah.

"Byron, son of Sir Jeremy
and Lady Eleanor de Goris.

Alderney House, Wesford."

His parents died
when he was a child.

He was brought up
by his grandfather.

We spent a weekend
at Alderney House that summer.

James and Byron slept
in the old nursery,

and I was in solitary splendor
in the master bedroom.

Byron loved that house.

Right.

Return this to Mr. de Goris,
Cambridge.

If you want to contact me,

I´ll be ´round
at Chepstow´s office.

Right, sir.

Well, what are we gonna do
about this wedding party?

Well, Matt Kelly
has hired the restaurant.

I think we ought to go on doing
what we´ve been paid to do,

unless he tells us otherwise.

I´m sorry, Inspector Crabbe,

but I cannot discuss my client´s
business without his consent.

How long has he been
your client?

The de Goris family has been
represented by this firm

for over 100 years.

Is it a large family?

No, Mr. de Goris
is the last in his line.

-But Inspector Crabbe --

As I´ve already said,
I cannot discuss --

Mr. Chepstow, your client
is not Byron de Goris.

His real name is James Jackson.

But his papers.

But his bank account.

He changed his name.

That in itself isn´t a crime,

but if he did so
in order to claim a property

that wasn´t his to claim.

But it´s not just
Alderney House.

Byron´s grandfather
left him his entire estate.

I mean, he was
a very wealthy man.

You didn´t give him
any of the money.

The will
is going through probate,

but the bank gave him
a personal loan.

A fraction
of what he was due to inherit

in a couple of months´ time.

How much did he borrow?

£500,000.

It was wired to his American
bank account this morning.

Chepstow.

Just a minute, Mr. de Goris.

He wants an estate agent

to value the property
tomorrow morning.

Yes, of course.
I´ll send the keys ´round.

Mmm.
This is good.

You should market it.

Any fool can make toffee.

Ah. But only a great chef
can make perfect Dublin rock.

You said
you always wanted to do this.

What you want and what you get
are two different things.

When Ma said that, you always
knew Christmas morning

was going to be
a disappointment.

Are you all right?

I´ve been better.

Ah, funny old world, isn´t it?

You knew James and Byron,
and I don´t know either of them.

Hm.

I keep saying to myself,
"What´s in a name?"

It´s the man that counts, right?

But after he left this morning
to meet his television producer,

I thought to myself,
"I don´t know his name either.

Maybe he´s two different people
as well."

Nicola, have we got enough
pint glasses

for the Draught Guinness?

Hang on.
I´ll check.

Won´t be long.

Where´s he going?

I don´t know.

-Yeah.

It´s Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
parked out front.

Can I borrow it?

Sure.

Thanks.

Oh.

Is it automatic?

If I wreck your gearbox,
I´ll buy you a new one.

Okay?

Did she mean a new car?

Kit, come back inside.

Look, Byron didn´t want me
to come on this trip.

I want to find out why.

Then I´ll come with you.

I´m, sorry, I just
didn´t know how to tell you.

Was he ever going to tell me?

Byron de Goris.

Upstairs, sir.

I´ll go this way.

Right.

Where is he?

Try the nursery
at the top of the house.

Give them five minutes, eh?

Look at me.

Tell me why you needed this.

You´re a successful writer.

You´ve got your own money.
Your own life.

I haven´t sold a script
in five years.

I´ve got enough money
to last us both a lifetime.

That´s not real money, Kit.

You don´t know
what real money is.

It´s not a few thousand
in the bank

and shares
in the Kelly business.

What you and your brothers own
between you

wouldn´t even pay
the death duties

on the de Goris estate.

Houses.

Land.

Old money.

Real money.

£20 million after tax.

It´s not yours.

Byron always said
that everything he had was mine.

He was an only child.

The last in the line.

Now the state gets the lot.

Byron loved this house.

"Got to be there for Christmas,"
he said.

"Got to go home."

But Byron´s dead now.

What about me?

If you´d got away with this,
would you have stayed with me?

Why did you marry me, James?

I had to be married
to inherit the estate.

Poor Kit.

Well, what are we gonna do
with all this food?

I´m not very good
at picking husbands, am I?

The first could have charmed
the birds off the trees,

but he hadn´t a thought
in his head...

or a penny to his name.

And the second had money
and a brain, but he was...

He was the most boring man
that I ever met in my life.

All right,
I´ll get it right next time, Ma,

just to annoy you.

I thought
I´d cracked it this time.

I thought he had the best bits
of the other two.

Forget him.

And forget about
all that marriage carry-on.

It doesn´t suit you.

I´m 30, Ma,
and I´ve no children yet.

You´re a rich woman,

free to have children
any way you want.

Oh, if our dad
could hear you now.

Oh, I loved having your father
in my life.

But I could have done
without him in my house.

Give me your mobile, Matt.

Henry?

Kit.

Listen, would you ever get
cracking on that Dublin rock?

♫ Oh, Mary, this London´s
a wonderful sight ♫

♫ With people here working
by day and by night ♫

♫ They don´t sow potatoes,
nor barley nor wheat ♫

♫ But there´s gangs
of them digging ♫

♫ For gold in the streets ♫

Here´s to the next 15 years,
Margaret.

I was 17
when Matt first announced

we were breaking out
into England.

And you said
there´d be no luck in it.

First night in Liverpool,
he met me.

Like I said, no luck.

Oh, you cheeky sod.

You should´ve married me, Rita,
when you had the chance.

I was only joking, darling.

Hey, you.

Pour your mother another drink.

Good grub, eh, Ma?

Not bad.

For an Englishman.

Chef says
can he have a quick word?

♫ Don´t be starting
them fashions, now ♫

♫ Mary Macree ♫

♫ Where the mountains of Mourne
sweep down to the sea ♫

It´s beautiful.

And thank you.

And he would have
left me anyway, Henry.

Uh, uh, no.

This is for Kit.

I think you should serve it.

God, I don´t know
if I´d have the nerve to cut it.

It´s more for looking at
than for eating.

Like him, really.

Now, what are you all doing
standing here?

Aren´t you my guests?

Get back inside
and join the family.

This is the best chocolate cake
Henry has ever made.

It´s the mashed potato.

It keeps the mixture moist.

Margaret, you´re supposed to sip
the hot whiskey

through the cold cream.

It´s not whiskey.
It´s poteen.

Mm.

That´s illegal, isn´t it, Henry?

Oh, I see.

Thinking of becoming a detective
full

No.

No, I think I´ll stick
to the day job.

I mean, I was the one who knew
he wasn´t who he said he was,

but you were the one
who found out why.

Well, if you hadn´t
recognized him,

I think he might just have
got away with it.

He didn´t recognize me.

Well, why should he?

It was a long time ago,
and I´m no schoolgirl now.

No.

You are a very beautiful woman,
Margaret.

I know.

Shame about the taste buds.

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