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'It came down from the High Peak hollering and clamouring

'and we lost our heads and our hearts

'to the most exciting idea humankind has ever had -

'better than God or farming or electricity...'

'..which is love.'

What do we need to live?

Arnold, what...?

Come on. What can't we do without?

Jesus.

What else?

Servants.

What makes us human?

Oxygen?

And?

Water? Music, Norma. Music.

Arnold, I haven't left a busy shop to...

Come on, what do we do to music?

Do? Yeah.

Fall asleep?

Dance!

This is a dance hall.

This is...

Hey, it's like New Orleans in the Peak District.

I shall be returning forthwith to my duties

as a wife who stands behind the shop counter.

You will go forthwith to ascertain

that your feckless son hasn't turned a profitable boot factory into...

Norma Rose Hankin...

..will you come to the grand opening dance with me?

Have you lost all sense of decorum?

Aye, aye, I have!

And I'm going to replace it with jazz.

I don't understand. What's happening?

You a dancer, John?

No?

I could deliver t'milk straight to your shop every day, fresh.

Ah, but it wouldn't be bottled.

No, but it'd be... it'd be fresh.

But you can't guarantee the number of pints each day?

No.

I'm spending my life out in t'field, milking t'cows, every day.

I'm sorry for you, John.

There's no room for pity in business.

'I would have followed Martha Ellingham

'to the North Pole and back.

'Married, seven years my senior,

'she was the only girl for me.

'Only...she wasn't.'

'There was someone else. I just didn't know it yet.'

'Dear Bert, this is a difficult letter to write...'

'I've not told you how I feel,

'but if I don't soon, I think I might explode.'

'I'll be outside the bathhouse at 11 o'clock on Sunday

'if you'd like to meet me.

'We could go for a walk...'

'It wasn't signed and it wasn't dated.'

'Who'd have thought it would cause such a rumpus.'

Phoebe's done a love letter.

'The desire of the moth for the star

'Of the night for the morrow

'The devotion to something afar

'From the sphere of our sorrow.'

Grace?

Bert!

Where are you?

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It's market day.

We'll sell t'calf.

But t'calf's young, John.

It's a calf. We're farmers.

You'll take t'calf to market and you'll get a good price for her.

You promised.

Listen to me.

The £5 Bert won goes towards wages for t'farm labourer.

We need money.

You promised.

Tell her, Bert.

If we sell t'calf now, then what?

A cow next week?

Then what happens?

We've less milk to sell.

How does that work, John? It has to.

Well, it's too small.

What?

Something bigger needs to change.

Every town, every village - always you.

Sorry?

Men of God, the first to turn up.

So what is it?

Fear? Guilt?

Sex.

"Married love."

Spread the word.

Come on, Mary. You heard your father.

I'm proud of you, Mary.

Come on.

Muddy udders. Get 'em washed when I'm gone.

It's market day, I'm going to The Lamb.

No, you're not. We're farmers.

I'm going to take a risk

and guess that you're all over 30.

I've stopped counting. Which is good news.

Oh, I love a politician. Growing old is a good thing?

It is when it means women can vote.

Women? Are we not ladies?!

You're voters. You're not second class any more.

Socialists in shorts.

And they're a cycling club?

I don't care if it's the Coconut Club.

I'm not voting for anyone that wants to show me his knees.

You won't remember me.

Yes. Yes, I do.

You're Bert Middleton's mother.

Sunday at 11. Cycle ride from here up The Kinder Road.

There's always an answer, I promise.

And it's never as bad as you think.

Can intimate relations end a pregnancy?

No.

No, love, it's perfectly all right

to continue for as long as you want to.

It won't damage baby.

You should tell your husband not to worry.

He may get uncomfortable as you... as you get a lot bigger,

so you should give consideration

to the realm of sexual activity beyond intercourse.

Oh, don't worry. You might like it.

Ladies do! It's not my husband!

No advance! And it's sold to the gentleman...

You're Martha Lane.

Allingham.

What you doing here today?

Selling a calf.

You're selling a calf?

Is that your calf over there? I'll be right back.

The thing is, I'm... I'm looking for a young calf.

I'll give you a good price.

We keep a pig...

kept a pig.

We killed it, two week ago.

It was nice to see you, Bert.

It's one thing writing it,

it's quite another actually posting it.

I've asked a lot of you, haven't I?

No. No.

No, you've been a mother to the boys all this time.

Well, make sure you have some time

before you start being a mother again.

Is that what Mummy would have said?

She wrote me a letter before she died.

"To be opened when I'm gone away."

What did it say?

She said, "Women love a widower,

"so here's a list of ladies in the village you're not to let near you.

"If you do, I'll be back to haunt you."

And the second thing?

"Remember how much we loved each other."

"And don't let Phoebe settle for anything less."

It's market day.

If you're sure,

take it and give it to him.

Agnes, you look unwell.

The glue... Gets in your lungs.

Sorry.

Sorry? Why?

I can move you to packing boxes,

if you want to... move?

Muddy udders. What?

Washing mud off t'cow's udders so t'milk stays clean. Right.

It's your round.

Bugger, bum, bugger, bum, bugger, bum. Bum and bugger!

Please... give him this, please?

Walk on!

Rosie Arbuthnot - haystack.

Haystack?!

Yep. On top or underneath?

I beg your pardon?

Behind!

Mr Eyre?

Frances Gifford, the day I got out of prison.

I was alone

and she reminded me what human warmth could be.

That's a very moving story.

Was she a prostitute?

Yes.

Bert?

He's waiting for the right girl.

Eh? Come on.

Have a good evening.

Lipstick.

Do you like it?

You're my girl.

Yeah.

I've got an hour. Is that all?

Edmund Allingham's got an electable face,

but he needs all of me brains and most of me time.

You're the only thing I leave the Big House for.

After the election will there be more than an hour?

What do you want, Agnes?

The desire of the moth for the star...

Of the night for the morrow.

G-g-gas!

Gas masks on!

Gas masks on!

It's me! It's me!

I'm... I'm so sorry.

So sorry... Please, please!

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry...

I didn't know...

It's all right, it's all right. I didn't...

Have you asked Hankin about taking our milk?

No.

We'll be late for chapel.

I've too much to do.

Too much for God?

Got something bigger, Grace?

I'm not coming either. I'm taking photos in t'village.

Come on.

I think I should sleep alone.

Hello.

I hoped you'd come.

Did you? Yes.

Nobody else has.

Can I be honest with you?

Yes. If you don't vote for me, I can't win this election.

I'm just one person.

You're the woman who's never voted before

and there are eight million like you.

You are much, much more than one person.

Beautiful, isn't she?

The curve, here, and t'skirt guards,

which are a revolution in cycling.

But sometimes they don't work and a skirt can get caught.

So...

Bloomers.

I've, erm...

I've never been on a bicycle before.

You look exhausted, Mrs...?

Hankin.

Every night when I get into bed,

I hope things will be... better.

I understand. You do?

Each night is the same - dull, unexciting.

Yes. Well, first things first, Mrs Hankin.

Are you taking precautions?

Well, every married couple needs to plan,

so they can relax.

Oh, erm... no.

We don't, er...

How regularly do you and your husband enjoy yourselves?

Enjoy ourselves?

Never, that's why I'm here.

The man climbs on board, a huff and a puff and it's over.

You're not alone, I can help.

But in the meantime,

you need this.

I can show you how to fit it.

I think it's a bit big.

Oh, it's not for him.

Oh?

How long have you been married?

Years and years.

Without ever...

Nothing.

The thing is to catch him at the right moment

whilst not putting any pressure on him.

When he's doing something that makes him happy

and he's not thinking about the problem...

..pounce.

# Harlots and publicans

# And thieves... # Where's Grace?

# In holy triumph

# Join

# Saved is the sinner that... #

Sorry, you should just...

I'm holding you up, so you should just go...

# From crimes as great as mine. #

I'll... I can walk home from here.

I'm not having that.

You go on. We'll catch you up.

Right you are, Bill!

I promise you, you can do this.

I can't. Yes, you can. Go on...

'Lord...'

..we ask for your guidance in everything we do.

'Show us the right path to take...'

'..towards the brighter morning we all long for...'

Don't let go. Do no let go!

..the contentment we all seek in our lives of hard struggle.

Amen.

Look at me.

Don't think, you mustn't think.

Trust me.

Oh, I don't like this!

I'm scared. Head up.

Look forward.

I'm looking. I am... ah! Go!

Yeah!

Can I speak with you?

Yeah... just come over here.

Power, like a desolating pestilence,

pollutes what'er it touches.

Your man Percy.

Can you make it up there?

Race you!

I work for me family and me farm

cos I'm proud of them.

What are you asking me?

Is pride a sin?

Am I to be punished for sinning?

No!

No.

When I'm outside and working with me hands,

I clasp them together like this, when it's cold, for warmth.

In prayer.

Is he listening?

Does he hear me?

Absolutely, yes.

Get down the mine and stay there

until your lungs hack up globs of black blood.

And when I've taken your breath away and you're on your deathbed,

then I'll let you stop making me money. But don't worry,

I'm not going away,

I'll be putting your sons

down the same dark hole in the ground as killed you.

They're for that, I'm against it. Can I have your vote, please?

Sorry.

No...

..you're angry.

There's an idea in England that anger and seriousness

are somehow bad manners.

Affability, easy charm, wit - all very English,

all bedfellows of conservatism and the right way to be.

We mustn't be seen to actually mean what we say.

You first or me?

Together.

Woo-hoo, I like this!

Hello. Oh, hello.

You're not at the bathhouse.

Um... no!

You're here.

Yes. And I'm here, too.

Shall we walk?

Remember Mr Ingham at school?

When he was hitting you,

I felt it.

I mean, I REALLY felt it.

Do you want to know a secret?

I'm left-handed too, Bert.

Even if I wanted to take pictures. Of what? For who?

It's a village, Phoebe.

It's just a village.

Before she died,

my mother taught me the name of every wild flower she knew.

I've looked for them all

and I've found them all.

Every one within a mile of here.

It's not just a village.

I'll walk you home if you like.

YOU'LL walk ME home? If you like.

It's supposed to be the other way round, Phoebe.

Then I'll let you pick me up on Friday. Hmm?

The dance. I'll be ready at six.

There's a meeting at The Institute, Friday night.

You could come.

Wait.

Don't be frightened, you mustn't be frightened.

She's left-handed.

Well, that's good.

Who is?

Phoebe... from the station.

One of your cows is up in t'field - distressed.

She hasn't been milked.

Cruel, I'd say...

and your responsibility.

Flowers?

Did you get t'milking done? No. I was...

Reading?

And you?

Let me ask you something.

Does poetry run a farm?

He's more than just a poet - Shelley.

Where are you getting this from, eh?

What's happening? John...

You're my family!

Where are you?

The two most eligible bachelors in London

here at my humble country home.

Have you been reading Jane Austen, Mother?

Every day.

Robert.

Whenever I read Jane Austen I want to dig her up

and beat her over the skull with her own shin bone.

Oh? Is that you, Edmund, or someone else?

Mark Twain, Mother. Ah, yes. Huck and Tom and boats and whatnot.

There are books for boys and books for grown-up people.

Nothing happens, nobody says anything.

What pride, huh?

What prejudice? Oh!

It's not on the surface. It's underneath.

Would you be interested in marrying my daughter, Robert?

'I should never have married George Allingham.'

You were helping him.

He needed you, it was a sacrifice you made.

You don't condemn me?

There's enough pain and guilt in the world.

What kind of a minister are you?

I'm your father,

first and last.

What should I do?

There's a vacancy at the school. Mr Ingham is leaving.

He's opening a barber shop in Chesterfield.

I'm married, I can't teach.

I'm the committee! Yes, you can.

You'd be teaching alongside Mr Eyre of course, so...

But I'm sure he'll be delighted to have you.

Somebody help!

Bairstow!

A worker moved.

The worker who took her place didn't know what she was doing and she...

Chopped her finger off.

Why did the first worker move?

She was complaining. About?

Conditions.

What, an agitator?

I suppose.

No, no.

Sack her.

I was in charge. I shouldn't have allowed the problem to arise.

Which is why it'll be your job.

My job? To tell her.

Just do it.

Have I lost my job?

I never should have listened to you, I shouldn't have moved.

I'm going to Allingham. This is not right.

It wasn't him?

No.

Well, who was it?

Your father?

Bairstow.

I promise, I'm going to make your life better.

You can't. Nobody can.

I swear to you that I will.

You're from Yorkshire, aren't you?

Why? You walk into rooms and sit down in them.

And then I speak me mind.

At least that's how the cliche goes.

What do you want?

Harriet Kilmartin.

Lord Kilmartin's youngest.

Sorry, what?

Your son has everything going for him

and one problem.

Which is?

Some of the wrong company.

Who?

It doesn't matter.

Late 30s and still a bachelor,

it's not right.

Harry... Harriet isn't married, either.

She's just the girl

for the next Home Secretary to spend his life with.

It needs sorting.

Hey! What're you doing?

It's yours, isn't it?

I don't want your old milking machine.

I'll have your cows, though.

What? £3 a head.

You've got to be joking.

Don't be a fool, Middleton. I'm giving you a chance here.

Take it.

I'm twice your age. What's that got to do wi' it?

You can't talk to me like that.

Is that all you've got? "You can't talk to me like that."

If you were a real man, you'd let the truth in.

You can't keep cows without a barn.

You'll never be a dairy farmer.

Get off of my land.

Ask your wife, she knows.

Lesbians or motorists?

I'm sorry?

Lord Kilmartin wants an issue.

Something from you he can put in his newspapers

so that your name's in the public consciousness. So...

a steadfast stand against lesbianism

or should we be furious at plans for a speed limit on our roads?

Is either quite serious enough?

Sex and the motor car?

Kilmartin's readership think of nothing else!

No, they want to be clear in their minds.

Women do not love each other

and motoring is a dangerous sport

certain to be spoilt if rules are attached to it.

This'll work.

Bring cows to t'milking machine.

This is our cow shed, Bert.

But it's a bog, look.

The cows won't let down their milk here.

They just won't.

Robert?

I have to know that what you do and what you say are both true.

It's not easy.

I love you.

Robert... Would you ban women from loving other women?

Given who we are, Edmund? What's it to be?

Me and your conscience, or politics and power?

Are we filthy queers or men in love?

Whoa, walk on, walk on. Whoa, whoa.

That's it...

Is that farming?

You stay away from my wife.

You're mad.

Stay away from her.

You're too proud, John, you'll lose everything.

For Bert.

I thought I'd better remind myself what it feels like.

Your father came to see me.

To ask if you're happy with my appointment?

Yes.

And are you?

It's breaking the law.

I see.

I'm sorry.

It was foolish of me to... I've broken the law before.

The law and what is right

aren't always the same thing.

So?

I just, er, wanted to see how everything is.

Fine.

Good.

That's excellent.

Are you sure there isn't something you wanted to ask?

No, no, no.

I'm really, er... making sure you're all right out here,

on your own.

So this is a visit in your professional capacity?

Sorry?

As God's representative in the village.

I'm lonely.

Oh, damn!

Agnes?

Agnes?

What is it?

I've lost my job.

Oh, no, Agnes. They've sacked you?

Yeah.

What for?

I was feeling sick from the glue, so I moved.

I won't have this.

We won't have this.

Grace, you don't... Don't be frightened.

You mustn't be frightened.

Thank you.

Who's it from? Mrs Allingham.

Martha?

It looks wonderful!

Will it work?

Will people come?

Nobody came?

There's a dance on.

What would you have said?

I wasn't going to speak.

I was going to listen. To the village.

What would you have said?

Agnes Scrivener lost her job at the boot factory

because she wanted to get away from what's choking her lungs.

Now, the man who owns the boot factory...

Is Edmund Allingham.

I would have asked...

Who's going to help her?

Who's going to fight

for what she's too frightened to fight for on her own?

How does a woman stand up and find her voice?

Would you consider accompanioning...

accompany...

the dance?

Do you want to come?

Come on, we'll be late.

You go. I'm fine.

I'm teaching again. Martha, I absolutely insist.

Come on, we'll terrify the locals.

Come on!

You are going to the dance.

I'll take you.

It's a dance hall and nobody's dancing.

They don't know how to, Arnold.

They don't know how to do it.

Robert? George.

Where are you going?

Er... I have to go back to London.

Have you said goodbye to Edmund?

No.

I could do it for you.

What would you like me to say?

Tell him...

Tell him...

I hope it's worth it.

I'm sorry. I forgot. Farm work?

Two left feet, me.

Will you show me how?

Me too. I'm... a farmer!

Shall we anyway?

Yeah.

Sorry.

Martha!

Your letter, I got it.

It's... beautiful.

But it was late, so...

I'm glad you got it.

Yeah, thank you!

It was lucky I found it.

You found it?

In the street.

Well... who did write it?

It was me.

I wrote it!

You?

Yes, with my left hand.

Maybe the band should play something they all know?

No, it's not the music.

They're all frightened of letting go.

Phoebe.

My mother said not to settle for anything less

than the love she and my father had.

I've got an hour.

Are you all right, Agnes?

Let's go. No.

You took my job.

You can't have any more of me.

What?

That was you?

The agitator?

Come with me, we'll talk about it privately. Get away from her.

Fuck off.

I said get away from her.

Or what?

You were the one who sacked her. Oh, I get it.

You're feeling guilty.

You want to rescue the poor little factory girl you did for?

You're pathetic.

Leave him alone!

You leave him alone!

Dancing, fighting...

This is fantastic, Norma!

Come with me.

Pounce.

What's your name?

Joy.

What?

Joy.

I'm lonely, too.

John?

Wrong way round...

..bringing cows to t'machine in t'mud.

It's a mither.

Help me.

You see, we bring t'machine to the cows.

Whoa, whoa.

Where were you tonight?

The Institute.

Oh, well, you're home now.

Dry land.

It's as firm as Hankin's dance floor!

'Love had danced into the village

'and announced its giddy power.

'It brought with it the twinned agonies of happiness and pain

'and every emotion in between.

'It was the roaring '20s

'and love - public, private, thrilling, reckless -

'had made its move

'and asked its big questions.

'What's the best of us and the worst?

'Shall we dance?'

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