Cluny Brown (1946) Movie Script

Ye... No, no, no, my dear chap. Sink.
Sink. S-l-N-K. Sink.
No, no, no, not stink.
Yes, well, now that you mention it, it does.
Look here, what I'm trying to tell you is
it won't drain.
Yes, that's it, and I've got 50 people
popping over for cocktails.
Huh, have you ever tried to get hold of
a plumber in London on a Sunday afternoon?
I've called dozens of them and the blighters
are either at the films or walking in the park.
Hang it all! If plumbing's going to
make a go of it in this country,
the plumbers jolly well better get into
the spirit of the thing!
Well, there's just the ghost of a chance.
One chap half promised to be over, but that's
more than an hour ago, so there you are.
But look here, I can't just call up 50 guests.
I can't call up such people as
the Honourable Betty Cream
and tell her my sink's out of order.
Just a moment. Congratulate me, old man.
Here's the plumber now.
So long.
Come in, come in. Oh, excuse me.
Hello? Yes.
Yes. He just came this moment. Goodbye.
Never been so happy to see anybody
in my life. Right this way.
Rotten of me to spoil your Sunday,
but it's sink or swim, you know.
Wait till you see the mess.
"Relieve the drain, relieve the strain."
Bit of a poet, eh?
Well, there it is. Frightful stench, isn't it?
Just too awful for words.
- Yes, but it looks interesting. Very.
- What?
Is there anything more arresting
than a sink out of order?
I beg your pardon?
An everyday, ordinary,
commonplace pantry sink.
And yet, an analogue of human frustration.
Believe me, I know a lot about sinks.
Yes, naturally, I'm sure you do,
but we haven't much time.
You see, I'm giving a party.
- You're expecting your guests any minute?
- Right.
- And you want your sink fixed?
- Right.
- Then what you need is a plumber.
- Right... But I thought that you...
Oh, no, no. Unfortunately, I'm afraid
there has been a misunderstanding.
You see, I came here to see
an old friend of mine, Professor Leigh.
Profe... Professor Leigh? He's in Scotland.
You see, I sublet the flat.
- Now I am in a fix.
- Well, what about me? I'm in a fix, too.
- But what am I going to do? It's 4:30.
- You see, I wanted to see Professor Leigh...
Expecting 50 guests, including such people
as the Honourable Betty Cream
and she doesn't go everywhere, you know.
- You're the most selfish man I've ever seen.
- What?
You don't even know me
and already you're not interested in me.
Why don't you ask me
why I want to see Professor Leigh?
All you're thinking about is
the Honourable Betty Cream.
Why don't you ask me about my landlady?
Is she humane or does she want the rent?
Do you know or do you care? No.
Have you even said,
"A fig for Betty Cream, my dear sir.
- "Is there anything I can do for you?"
- Well, is there?
Oh, thank heaven.
- I misjudged you. My name is Adam Belinski.
- Hilary Ames.
Ah, I'm tired, my dear Ames.
It's too bad Leigh isn't here.
By the way, do you know him?
- Not very well, no.
- Magnificent fellow.
He would have said,
"Is there anything wrong, Belinski?"
And of course, I would have said,
"No, no, nothing."
But he would not have believed me.
He would have insisted on my taking a nap.
Insisted, I assure you.
Ah, he had the most charming way
of forcing 20 pounds on one.
Made you feel you were doing him a favour.
Remarkable fellow.
Obviously. Well, I'm not precisely in the habit
of forcing things on people,
- but if I can be of any service...
- My dear Ames, this is kind of you.
Not at all. Do have a nap.
Oh, excuse me, Mr Belinski.
This must be the plumber.
- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.
- Well, shall we have a go at it?
- I beg your pardon?
- I'm Uncle Arrs niece. Mr Porritt, that is.
- I'm sorry. There must be some mistake.
Mistake? Arert you...
(SNIFFING) Of course you're Mr Ames.
I could smell you a mile off.
You're the gentleman who phoned.
I have a wild idea that this
has something to do with plumbing.
Oh, you mean Porritt the plumber. Yes,
of course, of course. Come in, won't you?
Well, where is he?
- At the cemetery, clipping Aunt Nelly's grass.
- Pardon?
He never gets through till sunset.
But when you talked about your troubles,
you sounded so stopped up
- that I thought I'd have a fling at it myself.
- But look here, are you a plumber?
Oh, no. But I've been around pipes
and sewers and taps and things
ever since I came to live with Uncle Arn.
And of course, I've watched him work.
He's a good plumber,
but, if you ask me, much too conservative.
- Conservative?
- Though he votes Labour.
But when it comes to pipes,
he takes the long road, fiddles and faddles,
turns a nut, gets a drop here and a drip there,
when one good bang might
turn the trick in a jiffy.
Yes, and might smash the pipe
to smithereens.
But, on the other hand, it mightrt.
And when you're up against time,
you have to chance it.
- Why don't you let me have a whack at it?
- Oh, no, you don't.
My dear Ames, where is the gypsy in you?
Where's your sense of adventure?
Are you the type of man who puts on his pants
before he answers the telephone?
What if the thing does go wrong?
Let's assume the whole place gets flooded
and there is no party.
You save your liquor. Is that bad?
But if this girl succeeds...
Please, sir, do let me.
By Jove, I'll do it! Yes. I'll do it. Come on.
"Relieve the drain, relieve the strain, eh?"
Well, there it is. My fate's in your hands.
My! Tsk-tsk-tsk. What a congestion.
It's more stopped up than you sounded.
I never thought it'd be as good as this.
- I can't thank you enough, Mr Ames.
- Oh, not at all.
You know, I'm having a party and...
Yes, yes, I know,
but I'm not at all certain I can stay.
We'll see.
You see she's not dressed for plumbing,
but what woman is?
Well, here we go.
- Have you ever had tea at the Ritz?
- Tea at the Ritz?
I have, last Saturday.
I was lying in bed sucking oranges,
to tone up the system, you know,
when all at once I said to myself,
"Cluny Brown, you've got a pound note
in your stocking.
"Why don't you have tea at the Ritz?"
So I did. That's the way things come over me.
- Was it a good tea?
- Oh, it wasrt the tea.
But to hear them say, "This way, miss.
Please, miss. Crumpets, miss?"
And holding my chair for me.
You'd never have thought I was out of place.
That's very interesting.
You don't seem to be inibited.
Try to be more specific.
What made you think you were out of place?
Oh, I didn't think I was. It's Uncle Arn.
He's always telling me,
"Cluny Brown, you don't know your place.
"Think of your place.
Cluny Brown, you ought to learn your place."
Look here, this is no time
for light conversation.
Where does Uncle Arn think your place is?
- He didn't say.
- Because he doesn't know.
- I say, it's 4:50.
- Nobody can tell you where your place is.
Where is my place?
Where is anybody's place?
I'll tell you where it is.
Wherever you're happy, that's your place.
And happiness is a matter of purely personal
adjustment to your environment.
You're the sole judge.
In Hyde Park, for instance.
Some people like to feed nuts to the squirrels.
But if it makes you happy
to feed squirrels to the nuts,
who am I to say nuts to the squirrels?
- Do you mind saying that all over again?
- In Hyde Park...
Look, I beg you...
Oh, what a wonderful day
this has been for me.
My first sink and my first cocktail.
Martini cocktail.
With an olive.
- Thank you. You've been so understanding.
- Have some more.
- Should she?
- Definitely.
Oh, yes, thank you.
I feel lovely.
I can't quite describe it. I... I feel chirrupy.
Chirrupy? I don't ever recall feeling chirrupy.
I'm afraid you never will, my dear Ames.
There isn't a chirrup in you.
Isn't it funny? Now I feel entirely different.
I know what it is. I know.
Uh-huh. Ah, it's coming over me.
That Persian cat feeling.
What's a Persian cat feeling?
- I'm sorry, but it's getting late.
- It's never too late for a cat.
You're lying there in bed reading
that wonderful travelogue in the Daily Mail
and wanting to go places
and wondering if you ever will.
And all of a sudden, you're a cat
and you start to climb
and you leap out of the window into the fog.
Then suddenly the fog lifts,
and it isn't London, it's Baghdad.
Next week, I'll be in Cairo.
Oh, it's so wonderful to be a cat
and read the Daily Mail.
Look, I implore you...
Good heavens, there they are now. Please...
- Yes?
- I'm the...
Oh, I feel so wonderful.
So free.
- Cluny Brown, what are you doing here?
- Uncle Arn!
What does this mean?
What are you doing on that there couch?
I've been plumbing, Uncle Arn. Just plumbing.
Cluny Brown, has something happened
I ought to know about?
- I don't think so.
- Lucky I found the address wrote down
or I might never have looked you
in the face again.
- I assure you, Uncle Arn...
- Name's Porritt! Mr Porritt!
Liquor, too! Giving strong drink
to a young girl, that beats all!
I've half a mind...
- You haven't met Mr Ames, the host.
- I've no wish to meet the individual.
Oh but, Uncle Arn, these gentlemen
have been so nice to me.
There you go again, taken advantage of.
You don't know your place.
Get your things here.
You never will know your place.
But, Uncle Arn, what is my place?
What's anybody's place? What's your place?
If you want to feed nuts to the squirrels,
who am I to say... do you?
That settles it.
You're going into service, you are.
You're going to be a domestic
in a decent home. Come along.
Oh, by the way, I haven't paid you yet.
Will this do?
You can't buy me off
with your filthy pound note.
- Come, Cluny Brown.
- Thank you, gentlemen, for everything.
A British subject calling
a symbol of the empire filthy.
Permit me.
Filthy? I differ with him emphatically, Ames.
When the lower classes
start throwing away pound notes,
the upper classes better look out.
I dare say.
# Perhaps you wonder who I am
or maybe you don't care
# But I spend a great part of my time
on the fringes of Mayfair
# I'm never asked to parties
but I go to them just the same #
- Why do people go to cocktail parties?
- Because people give cocktail parties.
- Why do people give them?
- Because people go to them.
It's a vicious circle. Like perpetual motion.
Oh, it's depressing.
Parties and people laughing,
with Europe on the brink.
Yes. Hitler and Vienna and Prague,
and people go around having fun.
Oh, I'm so tired of hearing Hitler
and Mussolini and...
Betty, I'm surprised!
You talk like a superficial girl who thinks
of nothing but her pink-and-white complexion.
You seemed to like it
till Hitler came between us.
- Why, I still do.
- Oh, intensely, Betty.
But you must realise
we're on the verge of a war.
Well, then stop talking
and do something about it.
- I have. I've written a letter to The Times.
- Well then, there's nothing to worry about.
- Are you having a good time, Miss Cream?
- Marvellous, thank you.
Oh, Miss Cream, you know,
when I first saw you, I said to Archie,
"There's Miss Betty Cream," and then I said,
"No, that can't be Miss Betty Cream."
But after all, there's only
one Betty Cream, isn't there?
Everyone makes such an absurd fuss
over her. She's simply unbearable.
- The worst manners of any girl I know.
- She's cold, conceited and callous.
- Two martinis, please.
- Yes, sir.
- Have you, uh, asked her to marry you lately?
- Day before yesterday.
- What'd she say?
- She said no, as usual.
She doesn't stop to think.
She hasn't any brains.
If she turned me down once,
I don't think I could ever ask her again.
- I don't think she ever will get married.
- Perhaps she doesn't want to.
What else can she do?
What's going to become of her?
She has no talent.
- She has beauty.
- Well, beauty doesn't mean much.
It helps.
If you ask me, I feel sorry for the girl.
I think she'll go on and on having a good time
and wind up as one of those hackish females
- who get up charity balls.
- What a pity.
Well, I've made up my mind.
I shall ask her once or twice more,
then I shall wash my hands of her.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
- I've found something interesting. A man.
- The place is full of men.
But this one's in bed. Come and have a look.
There he is.
- No wonder he's in bed. He's squiffed.
- Good heavens!
- What's the matter?
- What is it?
- It's Belinski.
- Not Adam Belinski.
Yes. Adam Belinski.
- Is he a gangster?
- Don't be an idiot, Betty. He's a Czech.
- He's a great man. He's famous.
- Well, whatever for?
He's a writer. Professor at Prague.
One of Hitler's worst enemies.
That's why the Nazis are after him.
He's probably just one jump ahead
of them now. I wonder how he got to London.
- On the underground, no doubt.
- What a man.
He looks exactly like his pictures.
Better, in fact. Nobler. Much nobler.
- More serene.
- But he snores.
What difference does it make?
He's a great liberal.
For that matter, I snore myself.
So do I.
Well, I don't
and I'm as liberal as either of you.
- Hello.
- Hello.
We, uh... We know who you are.
You can trust us. I'm Andrew Carmel.
- I'm John Frewen.
- How do you do?
I'm Elizabeth Cream.
I know. You are honourable
and you don't go everywhere.
- We don't mean to pry, but you are in trouble.
- Arert you, Professor?
Well, yes, as a matter of fact.
Unless a miracle happens,
I'm a man without a home.
Oh, that beast. That terrible beast, Hitler!
I wonder if I've made myself clear.
Perfectly. But the time for talk is past.
We must do something.
Yes. What can we do about him?
Gentlemen, I'm afraid you are
a little confused.
Oh, yes, yes, we know we are.
There's so much muddled thinking.
That's why we're glad you're here.
Oh, put us straight, will you, Professor?
I have an idea. Let's scram out of here.
- A step in the right direction.
- All right.
But it must be somewhere safe.
After all, the professor is our responsibility.
Definitely! Have you any suggestions, sir?
Well, I should say the Ritz
is a good, safe place.
Splendid. Let's go.
It takes a lot of nerve for a man in his position
to show himself at the Ritz.
Well, thanks for a delightful evening.
- Thank you, Professor.
- Oh, it's been a privilege.
You must come to tea
with Andrew and Frewen one day soon.
Thank you, Miss Cream. Thank you all.
- Goodnight.
- Oh, Professor...
- Professor, are you safe here?
- Are the people in this house trustwon'thy?
- Tell me, who lives here?
- Who lives here? People who have to.
Professor, I beg your pardon for bringing this
up again, but since you've honoured us with...
Since you have...
Professor, we both feel that the 20 pounds
you were gracious enough to accept
- is most inadequate.
- Most.
Would you reconsider and take 50?
We'd feel much better about it.
- Oh, much better.
- My dear friends, I beg of you.
I needed 20 pounds and you were
good enough to lend me 20 pounds,
and that's all.
We don't want to seem rude, Professor,
but 50 pounds...
Well, we frankly don't see
how you can accept less.
You mustrt press me any further. I insist.
- We understand perfectly, Professor.
- Perfectly.
However, should the occasion arise
when I need 30 additional pounds,
you will give it to me and nobody else.
- Is that a promise?
- My word of honour.
Oh, we appreciate this.
- Goodnight.
- Goodnight, sir.
- Great man.
- Really a great man.
- Uncle Arn, you won't have me tomorrow...
- No, I won't.
- Uncle Arn, who's going to mend your socks?
- Sister Addy.
Who's going to answer the telephone?
I'll manage it myself when I'm here
and let it ring when I ain't.
Now, everything's settled, lass.
Who are you going to talk to
when you've got something on your mind?
I'll just let it stay there.
Oh, you won't like that, Uncle Arn.
You're a man who likes to express himself.
- Uncle Arn, why do I have to go?
- It's better. You're very lucky.
An untrained girl like you getting took on as
a parlour maid in a nice house in the country.
- Lf I don't like it, can I come back?
- Not if you just don't like it.
- Well, what if I hate it?
- It's not your place to hate, Cluny Brown.
- What if I don't get enough to eat?
- They'll feed you.
What if they feed me scraps?
Starve me down to the bone
till I look like a skeleton?
- Then can I come back, Uncle Arn?
- That's all in your head, lass.
- What if they knock me about?
- They won't.
Well, what if they do?
Well, then send me a line,
but be sure they do.
Oh, Uncle Arn,
it's so nice of you to give me this.
It will remind me of home.
I'll think of you ever so often.
Now you keep your mind on your work.
Now be a good lass and hurry up.
- Uncle Arn!
- Eh?
Do you know why girls leave home?
Girls leave home because they're thrown out.
Everything all right, Herbert?
- Yes, sir.
- Good.
By Jove, I've never seen Roddy behave
so well on a journey, thanks to you.
- As a rule, he's a jolly nuisance.
- Oh, he's lovely.
It was very good of you
to take care of him.
Thank you for letting me.
He's done me so much good.
That's what I like about dogs. They make
you feel so much better about yourself.
Goodbye, Roddy. I'm awfully glad I met you.
By Jove, he doesn't want to leave you.
Well, I don't blame him either.
- I do wish I could see him again sometime.
- Well, why not? Me, too, for that matter.
- I'm not a bad old dog myself.
- Thank you. I'd like that.
Do you hear that, Roddy?
It isn't goodbye after all.
- By the way, where are you going?
- I'm going to Friars Carmel Manor.
By Jove, is that where you're going?
Neighbours of mine.
Henry and Alice are old friends.
I don't see Henry's car about anywhere.
- Let me give you a lift, Miss...
- Cluny Brown.
Ah, of course.
Oh, Herbert, take Miss Browrs bag, will you?
Oh, I don't want to put you to any trouble...
Nonsense, it's a pleasure.
I'm Colonel Duff Graham.
It's wonderful how a dog
can bring people together, isn't it?
My dear, yes. So it is.
I never thought of that.
HENRY: Wonder what'd soothe old puffy.
ALICE: Well, you might tell him
about the gardens.
Flowers are so restful.
Why, Andrew!
- Hello Mother, Father.
- Well!
I say, I'm awfully sorry to burst in on you
like this, but it's very important.
That's why I came down myself
instead of telephoning.
- You see, I've asked a guest...
- Well, that's nothing to get excited about.
- Naturally, any friend of yours is welcome.
- I know, mother, but this is a special case.
I wish I could bring him down myself,
but I have to stay in London,
so he's coming alone tomorrow night.
You mean, you're sending
the fellow down here and you...
I know it's strange, Father,
but I told you, it's a special case.
You see, he's in danger. He won't admit it,
but he ought to get out of London at once.
Good heavens! What's the fellow done?
Oh, what hasn't he done?
He's fighting for a new and better world.
- What for?
- What for? Havert you heard of the Nazis?
Oh, yes. German chaps.
Always wanted to see one.
Send him down, by all means.
Father, he isn't a Nazi. He fights the Nazis.
He's a Czech.
The Nazis are after him.
Oh, Father, you're sitting on a volcano.
Battleships and tanks won't help you.
Believe me, England won't be safe
until we produce our own Belinskis.
What the devil are Belinskis?
"What the devil are Belinskis?" Oh, I give up.
"What are Belinskis?"
Now, don't go all to pieces, Andrew.
If England must produce Belinskis,
why, we will produce Belinskis.
Britain has never failed.
Now have your tea, dear.
Mother, Belinski is the mars name.
Professor Adam Belinski.
Oh, I see.
Of course, we'd be glad to make his weekend
as pleasant as possible.
Mother... Mother, this isn't the matter
of a pleasant weekend.
It's a matter of life and death.
I don't know how long he's going to stay.
It may be a week, it may be a year,
it may be permanently.
Permanently, a total stranger?
Isn't that stretching it a bit?
But, Father, he's given up everything.
He hasn't any money.
You mean the beggar's broke?
Oh, you can't call a man broke
just because he hasn't any money.
Mother, I'm sure you understand.
I'm depending on you to be very kind to him.
Of course, dear. Now let's have tea.
I'm sorry. I can't stay.
I've got to get back to London...
But you just got here.
I wouldn't rush off like this
if it werert most urgent.
- Thanks so much, darling.
- Andrew, it isn't Betty Cream, is it?
Of course not.
Now, remember your promise, Mother,
and I'll see you as soon as I possibly can.
- Goodbye. Goodbye, Father.
- Goodbye.
I shouldn't be at all unappy if it were Betty.
Nice girl. Sits a horse well.
Why doesn't he marry and have done with it?
How do you do, Syrette?
The Colonel Duff Graham, milady.
- Alice, my dear, how are you?
- Oh, Charles, how nice.
- Henry, old boy, by Jove, how fit you look!
- Well, well, Charles.
Look whom I've brought you. Roddy could
hardly keep his paws off her, eh, Miss Brown?
And I don't blame him either.
- How do you do, Miss Brown?
- How do you do?
Well, well, this is a pleasure.
Passed the new vicar on the drive over.
How's he getting on?
Splendid, splendid. Sits a horse well.
Good. That reminds me.
I've just got time for a ride before dinner.
Arert you staying for tea?
No, thank you, Alice. I must be toddling along.
Spoiling for a sharp canter after London.
Now, Miss Brown, don't stay away too long.
I shall be waiting for you.
I want to see a bit of her, too, you know.
And so does Roddy, eh?
- Thank you for everything.
- Oh, no, no, pleasure, pleasure.
Wort you sit down, Miss Brown?
- Shall I?
- Certainly.
Have some tea.
This is... This is very kind of you.
Milk or lemon, Miss Brown?
It really doesn't matter.
Then shall we say lemon?
Well, I usually take milk, but I'll try lemon.
Oh, then milk, by all means. Sugar?
Oh, I don't think so.
- Are you quite sure?
- Well, if you don't mind, four please.
- Try a crumpet.
- Oh, thank you.
Thank you.
You know, I didn't think
it'd be anything like this.
You've both been so kind
and it's so lovely here.
I've never seen such beautiful flowers
in my life.
- It's just like a park.
- Hear that, Alice?
She works in it from morning till night.
It's her empire.
Maybe someday
you'll let me help you in the garden.
Of course, my dear.
I'm so glad you like my flowers.
You're so much nicer than I thought.
In fact, I didn't think you'd be nice at all.
To think I was afraid you might starve me.
Instead, here I am having tea with milk
and four lumps and crumpets.
- May I have another?
- Good heavens, have them all.
Oh, thanks, I'm not that hungry,
but I appreciate the offer.
You won't be sorry having me here.
I'm going to do everything to please you,
I promise you, even some extra things.
- How's your plumbing?
- Plumbing?
There's nothing wrong with our plumbing,
is there, Alice?
I almost wished one of your pipes leaked.
I could fix it.
You mean to tell me
young girls go in for plumbing nowadays?
It's great fun
and it does everybody so much good.
By George, when I was a young man,
we never even discussed plumbing.
As a matter of fact, we didn't have any.
- Tell me, Miss Brown...
- Everybody calls me Cluny.
Tell me, I suppose you've known
Colonel Duff Graham a long time.
Oh, no, we just met on the train.
But I feel as if I've known him
ever so long.
I'm going to have a puppy.
- You're going to have what?
- A puppy from the Colonel.
He says it's the first time he's ever given
one of Roddy's away.
I hope you won't mind.
I promise I won't let it interfere with my work.
Your work?
Yes. Work.
I'm Cluny Brown. Miss Postgate sent me.
Didrt you expect me? I'm the parlour maid.
Oh, you're the new maid. I see.
You thought I was somebody else, didn't you?
I'm sorry.
- Have I done something wrong?
- No, no. If anyone's been wrong, it's us.
Nobody's done anything wrong.
We've enjoyed seeing you.
And we hope you'll be happy here
and stay a long time.
Thank you.
Syrette, this is Cluny Brown, the new maid.
Now, sit down, my dear, and finish your tea.
Sit down, my dear.
And when you've finished, Syrette will
take you to Mrs Maile, the housekeeper.
- Very good, milady.
- Well, Alice, I'd better get at that letter.
They are so nice, aren't they?
I'm finished.
- Follow me, Brown.
- Brown? Everybody calls me Cluny.
You'll be called Brown here.
Maybe she got onto the wrong train,
Mrs Maile.
- Maybe she ran off with a handsome stranger.
- That will be enough, Weller.
WELLER: Things like that have
happened before and might happen again.
Mrs Brown, Mrs Maile.
Mrs Maile, the housekeeper.
Where have you been, Brown?
- Having tea with Sir Henry and Her Ladyship.
- What?
Well, it wasrt my fault, really...
Mr Syrette will give me the necessary
information later, if you'd be so kind.
With pleasure, Mrs Maile.
- Thank you, Mr Syrette.
- Not at all.
Now then, take off your hat, please.
I'm afraid you'll have to do something
about your hair.
Shall I leave, Mrs Maile?
Please don't, Mr Syrette.
I'd appreciate your opinion in the matter.
And may I say I agree with you completely,
Mrs Maile?
I knew you would, Mr Syrette.
- Your appearance is part of your work.
- Precisely.
- I understand this is your first place.
- Yes.
I see. We must begin at the beginning.
You say "ma'am" to me,
and "sir" to Mr Syrette.
And "Her Ladyship" to Her Ladyship.
You will perhaps never see Her Ladyship
or Sir Henry.
But if by chance you should find yourself
in the same room with them,
you will not be in the room.
You will see and not see.
You will hear and not hear.
And should Her Ladyship happen to
address you, which I very much doubt...
But if she should, you will answer
"Yes, milady," or "No, milady,"
depending on the circumstances.
However, these things will come to you
more easily when you've put on your uniform.
I couldn't have stated it better myself,
Mrs Maile.
Thank you, Mr Syrette.
And now, Brown,
Weller will show you to your room.
But before you go,
if I haven't made myself quite clear...
Oh, you've made yourself quite clear.
I understand perfectly.
For instance, if I feel like...
What was it the gentleman said? Oh, yes.
If I feel like feeding squirrels to the nuts,
this isn't the place for it.
The professor will be down immediately.
I say, Syrette, what's the fellow's name again?
It is hard to remember.
So many foreigners do have foreign names,
don't they?
- May I make a suggestion, sir?
- Go ahead.
- Think of the fur, Kolinski.
- Oh, Kolinski, Kolinski.
And now substitute "be" for "kol".
"Belinski" for "Kolinski," and you have it, sir.
I'll remember that.
- What's the name of that fur again?
- Professor Belinski.
Ah, Professor, how nice to see you.
You're very kind, Lady Carmel.
How do you do, sir?
How do you do?
Have a glass of sherry, old man.
Professor, you're most welcome here,
for as long as you care to stay.
How very hospitable you are.
But I don't feel I should accept
before you know more about me.
- Andrew has told us all about you.
- And about this Nazi business.
You don't have to worry
with Constable Birkins around.
Great man for warding things off, Birkins.
Oh, I have the utmost confidence
in Constable Birkins.
But after all,
the Nazis are across the Channel.
However, what worries me
is right here with us.
I have no dinner jacket.
Dinner is served, milady.
Sir Henry, I couldn't bear to face you
in a lounge suit across the dinner table.
Well, uh...
Wore a lounge suit myself
once at dinner in Naples.
Went slumming.
Didrt want to shock the natives.
Oh, um, shall we go in?
Andrew will lend you
a dinner jacket, Professor.
He has two.
It doesn't matter tonight, but, as a favour, if...
Oh, it's not really important,
but you see, my husband likes me
to dress for dinner.
But if you didn't dress, he couldn't
and if he couldn't, then of course, I wouldn't.
How simple and charming
you make everything.
- May I say something?
- Oh, please.
Go ahead, Belinski.
"This royal throne of kings, this sceptr'd isle.
"This other Eden, demi-paradise.
"This land of such dear souls,
this dear, dear land.
"This blessed plot, this Earth, this realm,
this England."
To Shakespeare.
- How well you speak English, Professor.
- Flows right out of him.
- English is the universal tongue.
- That's what I call clear thinking.
As a young man, my dear parents sent me
on a tour round the world.
I left speaking English,
came back speaking English.
Never spoke a word of anything else
the whole time.
English is my husband's hobby.
Yes, my husband enjoyed travelling.
You know I didn't, darling.
I went to St Petersburg and saw the Tsar.
I went to Constantinople and saw the Sultan.
And when I got home, I took a good look
at the first London bobby I saw
and thanked my stars.
If a man has a home, he should stick to it.
Now I'm a natural cosmopolitan.
If one never gets out of one's own country,
one becomes quite pot-bound.
Personally, I should like to spend
several months abroad.
Don't eat that piece, sir.
This one on the right, much better.
It hasn't so much fat
and it's browner and bigger.
You won't regret it, sir.
(GASPING) Nuts to the squirrels!
I'm very sorry, milady.
Outrageous, preposterous,
strikes me speechless!
- A maid choosing my mutton for me.
- She will be dismissed immediately, sir.
Oh, one moment, Sir Henry.
You took the piece she suggested.
May I ask you why?
Uh, because the other piece
had a blob of fat on it.
And this one is browner, leaner and bigger,
and you liked it better.
And hang it all, it's just not done.
What a pity.
It should have been done long ago.
Does it occur to you that for generations
the lords of Carmel have probably eaten
the wrong piece of mutton?
That's a very interesting way of looking at it.
Besides, it's so difficult to get domestics
to come to the country nowadays.
Well, she needrt have dropped the platter
and insulted my friend.
- What was it she said to you?
- I remember very well, sir.
It was, if I may take the liberty of repeating it,
"Nuts to the squirrels".
Doesrt make sense.
No, it doesn't.
It should be "Squirrels to the nuts".
But I have an open mind
and if someone says to me,
"Nuts to the squirrels," I accept it.
You may be inclined to say that to me
yourself someday, when you know me better,
and I'm not so sure
that you will include the squirrels.
That's much too deep for me, Belinski.
If I may say so, milady, the sooner
the young woman is dismissed, the better.
Oh, please, Mr Syrette,
I know that in the policies of the kitchen,
the balance of power rests with you.
I also know that as a guardian
of English customs and traditions,
this young woman has offended
your sensibilities.
But permit me to quote someone to whom
everything English was also dear.
"The quality of mercy is not straird.
"It droppeth as a gentle rain from heaven."
To Shakespeare.
- I've never seen my husband so stimulated.
- Well, he's a very stimulating man himself.
Yes, he is. I hope you'll be comfortable.
Syrette will valet you.
Dear Lady Carmel,
I have so little to offer a valet.
But would you mind letting Syrette?
So as not to hurt his feelings.
Very well. I have two suits.
This and Andrew's dinner jacket.
- They're both at Syrette's disposal.
- Thank you. I hope you sleep well, Professor.
Oh, by the way,
there's a nightingale under your window.
Oh, you should not have gone
to so much trouble.
- Goodnight, Professor.
- Goodnight, Lady Carmel.
"Dear Uncle Arn,
"I served my first dinner tonight.
Oh, Uncle Arn!
Good evening, Cluny.
Oh, Cluny, I'm so sorry I upset you.
- How do you do, Mr Belinski?
- For heavers sake, how did you get here?
To Friars Carmel of all places.
Tell me, what happened?
It's all Uncle Arn.
- You remember my uncle, don't you?
- Yes.
Oh, but what's the use?
Here I am in a uniform.
- Oh, Mr Belinski!
- Oh, now, now, Cluny.
Look at me, I'm here, too,
and I haven't even got an uncle.
And after all, you are at least a maid.
I'm only a guest.
And I will have to wear a uniform, too,
a dinner jacket.
But I don't want to be a maid all my life.
I'll go on and on dropping platters,
putting hot water bottles into cold beds,
and having Wednesday afternoon off
in the village,
- where the cinema opens only at night.
- What about me, Cluny?
I'm a city man.
I love cars and traffic and lights.
Smoke in my lungs.
What have I got? A big-mouthed nightingale
right under my window.
Oh, it's so good to talk to someone
who's out of place, too.
Yes, Cluny. Talk to me at any time.
- Open your heart to me.
- Ditto.
Oh, Mr Belinski!
Please forgive me, Mr Belinski.
I don't know what came over me.
It isn't as if you were my type.
Believe me, you aren't.
I'm sure I'm not. I understand perfectly.
You were just happy to find a friend here
and so am I.
We must go on being friends.
And as we are not our types,
that should be easy.
You know, we're like two people
on a desert island,
waiting for a ship to rescue us.
That's right, Cluny, but, um...
You know how it is on a desert island.
You wait and wait,
and then you don't wait any more.
Cluny Brown, let's admit it, we're in danger.
Today we are not our types,
but as time passes,
we might not look so bad to each other.
If we are at Friars Carmel long enough,
who knows?
You might even find me tolerable
and I might find you the most
beautiful creature in the whole county.
It's not much of a county,
but that's all we'll have.
Oh, no, that must never happen, Mr Belinski.
You must never become a victim
of my circumstances
and if you should ever seem romantic to me,
don't hesitate, just kick me.
- Yes. Let's kick each other.
- It's a pact.
- I feel so safe.
- Good.
Well, I think I'd better go now.
- Why don't you use the stairs?
- Excellent idea.
I can't thank you enough.
Ah, I feel so much better.
- Have a good night's sleep, Cluny.
- I think I will.
How lucky that we met in that flat.
I wish I were back there right now.
I wish I could roll up my sleeves
and roll down my stockings
and unloosen the join.
Bang, bang, bang!
Well, I think I'll go to my room now
and let the nightingale bang me to sleep.
- Goodnight, Cluny.
- Goodnight.
Well, Mrs Maile?
I agree with you, Mr Syrette, but then...
It's so difficult to get girls
to come to the country.
What do you expect?
A maid without references
and a foreigner who isn't even in
the diplomatic service.
I hesitated to tell you,
but now I believe I should.
This foreign gentleman rose at dinner
and addressed me directly.
- Oh, no.
- Yes, Mrs Maile.
Sir Henry and Lady Carmel's guest
spoke to me as an equal.
- Goodnight, Mr Syrette.
- Goodnight, Mrs Maile.
Good afternoon, Constable.
- Good afternoon, Birkin.
- Mr Pentlock.
- Cluny!
- Oh, hello, Mr Belinski.
Just look at you, violets on your shoulders,
roses in your cheeks,
and a garden on your head.
What's the occasion?
- Don't you know?
- It's your birthday.
- No.
- It isn't my birthday, is it?
Oh, Mr Belinski, don't you know
what day this is?
- I've lost count.
- It's Wednesday.
Is it?
Oh, Mr Belinski, it's my day off,
from 3:00 to 7:00.
Oh, of course. Perfect.
No wonder I've always loved Wednesdays.
From 3:00 to 7:00, four hours all to ourselves.
240 minutes and if you think of it in seconds...
I'll cancel all my engagements.
In fact, I'll ignore them.
- Cluny, the village is ours.
- Well, it's awfully sweet of you, Mr Belinski,
but I think I should tell you,
something has happened.
- What?
- You know Mrs Maile suffers from rheumatism.
- You haven't caught it, have you?
- Oh, no.
But you see, if Mrs Maile hadrt sent me
to the chemist's shop for Pear Tree's liniment,
I might never have met Mr Wilson,
the chemist.
That's the way things happen. Think of it.
Mrs Maile's swollen knee might change
my whole life.
Oh, is it as bad as that, Cluny?
Well, I don't know.
What would you think if a gentleman
invited you to tea
- and to meet his mother, too?
- I wouldn't go.
But I've already accepted
and I'm certain I did the right thing.
I'm sure you did.
You know, Mr Wilsors the only chemist
around here for miles and miles.
Oh, it's so exciting to meet a man who's
surrounded by hundreds of bottles
and every one of them life or death.
Mr Wilson hinted
when we get better acquainted,
he might let me watch him
make up a prescription.
- But this is confidential.
- Your secret will be buried with me.
Well, Cluny, it looks as if
your ship has come in.
The glass of beer I was going to offer you
seems awfully flat
beside all those bottles and phials,
filled with magic.
Well, have a good time, my dear.
Thank you.
- Goodbye, Mr Belinski.
- Goodbye, Cluny.
Uh, no, let us repeat it once again,
Mrs Watkins.
Tilt Master Richard's head back
and squeeze one drop of the astringent
into each nostril three times a day.
Miss Brown.
You're sure his nose will stop running,
Mr Wilson?
Mrs Watkins, it may interest you to know
that after the use of one bottle
of my nasal bath,
the Marquis of Barrocamir,
a distinguished speaker,
was for the first time clearly understood when
he addressed the House of Lords last week.
- Two shillings, please.
- Thank you, Mr Wilson. Come, Richard.
- Good afternoon, Miss Brown.
- Good afternoon, Mr Wilson.
Well, Miss Brown, I could relish
a crumpet or two. And you?
- Ditto.
- Then, uh, shall we step into the parlour?
- Oh, Mr Wilson, didn't you notice anything?
- Uh, notice what?
The way I look.
Well, I remarked about it
the last time I saw you.
- I said you looked intelligent.
- Oh, no, that's not what I mean.
Here, the garden on my head.
Well, I don't object to it myself,
but my mother might think it a little frivolous.
- Well, then, I'd better take it off.
- Oh, thank you. I hope you understand.
I do. I should have been satisfied
to look intelligent.
Then, uh, shall we?
Oh, what an elegant room.
Well, it's not Buckingham Palace,
but it's Wilsors little castle.
You might enjoy looking at this picture,
Miss Brown.
It's painted by hand.
Poor little sheep.
It hasn't much future, has it? Just mutton.
And where would England be without it?
If I was a sheep, I should be proud
to serve the empire.
Now, Miss Brown, would you like to know
where you are?
Yes, I would.
Then let us have a glance
at the map of our valley.
Just look at that.
Are they battle flags?
Well, not exactly a battle, Miss Brown,
but a victory, nevertheless.
Uh, this is where I was born
and this is where we are at this very moment.
And this is where I intend to remain
for the rest of my life.
Here in this very house.
Oh, you have everything so perfectly planned.
- But what if the house burns down?
- I've considered that, too.
It won't. I've taken every precaution.
You may have noticed
the lightning rod on the roof.
Moltors Imperial Pinpoint, the very best.
And, uh, if I should ever be blessed
with little Wilsons,
I should expect Mrs Wilson
to keep matches away from them.
That isn't asking too much, is it?
Oh, no. I think that's the least
Mr Wilson could expect from Mrs Wilson.
Now I shall call my mother.
Oh, however, if in spite of all my provisions
a slight blaze should occur,
it may reassure you to know
that I am chief of the Friars Carmel
Volunteer Fire Department.
- Oh, Mr Wilson, you aren't!
- I am.
It would be almost won'th a fire
to see you in action.
Thank you, Miss Brown.
Mother's been resting.
Mother, I want you to meet our guest,
Miss Brown.
And now, Miss Brown,
if you have no objection,
I shall play something on the harmonium.
Oh, you play the harmonium, too?
Is there anything you don't do, Mr Wilson?
You have your choice,
Sweet Alice Ben Bolt
or Flow Gently Sweet Afton.
They're both so beautiful.
I wish you'd decide for me, Mr Wilson.
Then shall we say Sweet Alice
and maybe Sweet Afton as an encore?
Ready, Miss Brown?
Oh, a client.
I'm awfully glad you finished the song
before the bell rang.
I should have finished it in any case.
You think I'm going out
to attend to the client at once, don't you?
- Well, aren't you?
- No. No, indeed.
It is the privilege
of a successful establishment
to keep the client on edge.
He's so grateful when you do arrive.
I'm glad you're so responsive to music,
Miss Brown.
When you were playing,
it did something to me.
I saw you in your firemars hat,
climbing up a steep ladder and saving a child.
It was all so beautiful and brave.
Thank you, Miss Brown.
Oh, I remember now.
I have a client, haven't I?
Excuse me.
Yes. What can I... Hello? Hello?
Mother's taken a great liking to you.
How do you know? She didn't say anything.
That's the point.
Mother doesn't waste words on flattery.
- Lf she speaks, it's to correct faults.
- Oh.
I like your mother, too.
Once or twice,
I thought she was going to smile at me.
She likes to see a young lady
who doesn't put stuff on her face.
If I may say so, so do I.
Well, it wouldn't do me any good.
I tried it, but I look worse.
They all look worse,
only they haven't the sense to know it.
Oh, it's Mr Belinski. Hello, Mr Belinski!
- Hello, Cluny Brown.
- Mr Belinski, this is Mr Wilson, the chemist.
- Uh, how do you do?
- How do you do?
Mr Belinski's staying at Friars Carmel.
Oh, a friend or relative of Mrs Maile
or Mr Syrette, I suppose?
Oh, no. He's a guest of Sir Henry
and Lady Carmel.
- A guest?
- I understand Mr Wilsors surprise.
A guest is not ordinarily aware
of the existence of a maid.
That's what troubled you,
Mr Wilson, wasrt it?
Exactly, sir.
We understand each other,
don't we, Mr Wilson?
Oh, thank you, sir.
Well, you see, we at Friars Carmel
do not consider Miss Brown merely as a maid.
No. We are very proud of our Cluny
and interested in her welfare.
- And, above all, in her friends.
- Naturally. I understand, sir.
- It's 7:00, Miss Brown.
- Yes. How time flies.
Yes, it does. But we must learn to fly with it.
You're going to be a bit late
and I certainly don't want
to make a bad impression on Mrs Maile.
Well, I'd better lope along.
- Goodbye, Mr Wilson.
- Goodbye, Miss Brown.
Thanks for a wonderful afternoon
and Sweet Alice Ben Bolt.
A very won'thy young lady.
- I'd like a word with you, Mr Wilson.
- I'm at your disposal, sir.
Mr Wilson, I presume that you have
weighed your intentions toward Miss Brown
as carefully as you
weigh the contents of a pill.
I assure you, sir, I am not the sort of man
who would invite a young lady for tea
merely to while away an afternoon.
Well, I must admit I was worried about Cluny,
but you have relieved my fears.
Mr Wilson, you couldn't have prescribed
a better sedative than yourself.
- Oh, thank you, sir.
- Not at all.
- Goodnight, Mr Wilson.
- Goodnight, sir.
Oh, Mr Wilson.
- Yes, sir?
- You don't drink, do you?
- Oh, no, sir.
- Good.
Sit down, Cluny. Now, look here, Cluny.
I know we have a pact.
Now let me tell you something about pacts.
Pacts are made for two reasons:
One, to be kept, two, to be broken.
Now, now, I don't say let's break our pact.
But, on the other hand,
I'm not suggesting that we keep it.
- Hello, Cluny.
- Hello, Mr Belinski.
- I came as soon as I could.
- Sit down, Cluny.
How do you like Mr Wilson?
Do you still think my ship has arrived?
Look here, Cluny. Out there is an ocean.
And on the ocean is a boat,
braving the storm and battling the billows.
That's not Mr Wilson.
But, in a quiet harbour, there is a freighter.
Its engine is turned off,
no smoke comes out of its funnel.
Nothing could ever budge it,
neither wind nor wave.
That's Mr Wilson.
Oh, I'm so glad you like him.
Do you know, Mr Belinski,
when I sat in his parlour,
and everything cosy and peaceful
and so homey,
and Mr Wilson playing the harmonium,
I got all choked up.
For the first time, I really felt
what it must be like to have a place.
And then his mother started to snore.
- You liked that?
- Oh, not just the snoring,
but because she was a mother.
You see, I'm an orphan
and I've never heard my mother snore.
But you're happy now. That's all that matters.
Mr Belinski, it's so selfish of me
to talk only about myself.
But I'm sure someday
your ship will come in, too.
Don't worry about me.
If it doesn't come, I'm a good swimmer.
Oh, I almost forgot your hot water bottle.
But I'm sure you won't need it
on a warm night like this.
Yes, yes, I'm afraid I do. I feel a little chilly.
It may get colder before the night is over.
- Thank you, Cluny.
- Thank you, Mr Belinski.
- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.
- Good morning, sir.
- Good morning, Wilson.
- Well!
- Professor Belinski!
- What are you doing here?
- Just clearing the streets for your arrival.
Well, I'm glad to see you, Andrew.
How are you?
- Better now that I'm out of London.
- How is Betty Cream?
I never want to hear
that womars name again.
She isn't won'th a mars time or energy.
No woman is.
They're all impossible, harebrained,
self-centred, insensitive, idiotic...
By George,
the first woman that comes near me...
Well, they'd better stay away from me
if they know what's good for them.
- And that's my last word!
- You're right, Andrew. Women are no good.
- Except as women.
- By Jove, you've said something, Professor!
I must remember that.
How are you? I've neglected you shamefully.
What's been going on?
Have you noticed anything suspicious?
Anything that looks like a Nazi?
Well, there is one particular cow, a brindle,
who gave me a nasty look once or twice.
That's Belinski for you,
tossing it over your shoulder like that.
But I won't let you.
You may not value your life, but I do.
I have nothing else on my mind now.
I can devote my undivided attention
to you from now on.
Frankly, Professor, I'm going to be a pest
and someday the world will thank me for it.
Andrew, I thank you for it right now.
But if you would only listen to me.
I've tried to tell you so many times.
- I'm not in danger.
- You're not in danger?
Well, naturally, I am...
- That's more like it.
- But so are all my countrymen.
So are all Englishmen,
you, your father, the whole world.
Yes, yes, of course.
But everyone is not Adam Belinski.
You're in special danger.
Oh, Andrew, you're so good to me,
I wish I were.
Of course, I had a bad time of it
until I reached England.
- I'll bet you did.
- And, mind you,
I may have a bad time of it again if they ever
publish my book, here or in America.
- What's holding it up?
- The publishers.
- The cads!
- So you see?
There is a lull, as far as danger is concerned.
Now, why don't we take advantage of the lull
and relax?
- Shall we?
- No.
No. I won't relax.
- I'm going to write another letter to The Times.
- Good.
No. No, I'll join the RAF.
Better, join the RAF. Rise above the times.
- Don't say anything to mother.
- No, not a word.
Morning, darlings.
- Hello.
- Hello.
Why, that's Betty Cream!
What's she doing here?
She came this morning for the weekend.
- Why didn't you tell me?
- What do you care?
- You're through with women.
- Betty!
- Hello, darling.
- Why did you come here?
- Your mother invited me.
- Why did you accept?
- Well, I didn't want to refuse.
- That doesn't make sense.
Doesrt it?
Did you know you were coming here
when I saw you last night?
- Of course!
- Why didn't you tell me?
Well, you didn't ask me.
How was I to know you'd have the nerve
to come down here after the row we had?
- Did we have a row? I don't remember.
- Oh, this is too much.
We had a row that all London is talking about.
The kind of a row
that London won't forget for a long time.
But what's a row to you? Nothing!
You haven't even the decency
to acknowledge that we had one.
Oh, I don't want to hurt you, darling.
If we ever have a row again,
do tell me we're having one,
so we may have a
long, long chat about it afterward.
- Oh, rot!
- See you later, darling! Come on, girl.
- That's letting her have it, old boy.
- Well, she asked for it.
Think of it,
one day some mars going to marry her.
Decent chap, probably. Poor devil.
There's only one thing I can say for her,
she sits a horse well. Hang it.
How much did I lose at backgammon
this morning? 36d, wasrt it?
- I think so.
- Here it is.
1, 110d, 2...
3... One, two, three, four, five, six.
Nice fellow, this Andrew.
Oh, I see.
You came to tell me all about Andrew.
No. I came to talk to you about Cluny Brown.
- Cluny Brown?
- I suppose you've never even noticed her.
- Ought I?
- Let me ask you something.
Who do you think unpacked your three
suitcases, two hat boxes, one overnight case?
Who put away your golf bag,
your tennis rackets?
Elves, gnomes, midgets?
I see. Cluny Brown.
Well, as a matter of fact,
I was just about to ring for her
- to help me off with my boots.
- Oh, I'll do it.
As I remember,
this Cluny is a sweet little thing.
A bit talkative.
- Did she say anything about me?
- Oh, I'm sure she did, Professor.
But then, she talked about everything.
Miss Cream, you have
the most charming way of tossing bouquets
just as if they were bricks. I like you.
And you do sit a horse well, hang it.
- Shall we get back to Cluny Brown?
- Hmm? Oh, all right. Well, you see,
Miss Brown wants the evening off
to attend a birthday celebration.
- How exciting!
- Now, here's the situation as it stands.
Mrs Maile and Mr Syrette are willing
to excuse her from serving dinner.
- Well, then everything's settled, isn't it?
- Not quite.
Remember, Miss Brown is also
your personal maid.
Now, the question arises, Miss Cream,
can you get in and out of your clothes
without breaking your neck?
- That, I don't know.
- Try it, will you? My little lamb, my sweet.
And if you should break your pretty little neck,
just yell Belinski!
And if you promise not to come,
Miss Brown may have the whole night off.
- Thank you, Miss Cream.
- A pleasure, Mr Belinski.
- Cluny, the evening is yours.
- Oh, Mr Belinski, you are a friend!
You see, it's not only Mrs Wilsors birthday,
but things have sort of been happening.
- Why, Cluny!
- Yes, they have.
Mr Wilson has spoken to his mother about me.
- Oh, I'm sure she approved of you.
- Well, anyhow, she didn't say no.
Well, that's very encouraging.
And then Mr Wilson asked his aunt
and Mr Latham, his solicitor,
- and everybody he possibly could ask...
- Did he ask you?
Oh, no. That's just it.
You see, he might tonight.
Or he might not. That's the suspense.
Oh... And so romantic, Cluny.
Mr Belinski, I...
Oh, no. No, I can't tell you.
What? Well, you're not
keeping secrets from me, are you?
Well, all right, then. I had a dream last night.
- But don't tell Mr Wilson.
- Does he forbid you to dream?
Forbid? How could...
Oh, no. But you see, Mr Wilsors so sensible.
And I don't think he'd object to dreams
as long as they were sensible.
But I dreamed about you.
- Cluny, you did?
- Mmm-hmm.
You don't know
how wonderful you looked in a fez
and how you rode that black Arabian stallion.
Whee! You just burned up the sands!
And you swooped me up off the desert
and sat me right in front of you in the saddle.
My, did we sit a horse well.
- Tell me, Cluny. Did I take you to my tent?
- You were taking me somewhere.
But I remembered our pact just in time
and kicked myself.
And took the kick right out of the dream.
Mr Belinski, do you wish I'd gone to your tent?
No, Cluny. You did the right thing.
I have no tent.
Not in the desert nor anywhere.
Well, you'd better run along now. Good luck.
Same to you.
Mother, friends...
As the Romans so aptly put it,
tempora mutantur.
That is to say, times change.
65 years ago, Mother wasrt even here.
And today she has been here 65 years.
Tempora certainly do mutantur.
Thank you.
But before we examine
those 65 well-spent years,
let me thank you all
who came to celebrate this joyous occasion.
You, Mr Snaffle, Mrs Snaffle,
Miss Snaffle, Mr Tupham, Mrs Tupham,
and Mr Latham.
Perhaps you noticed that I am guilty
of an omission.
But when you hear later what I have to say,
or better, to announce,
concerning a young lady not too far away,
I am sure you will agree that sometimes
an omission is an admission.
I didn't do it. It's the plumbing!
I just turned on the tap.
- It's the plumbing, Mama.
- Don't say that.
- But it was.
- Sit down and be quiet.
Let's go on. 65 years...
65 years of useful service...
- I can fix it.
- I beg your pardon?
Some of you might not know it,
but I'm a plumber's niece.
Just give me a hammer and a wrench
and I'll show you.
- I'll get it, Miss Cluny. I know where they are.
- Miss Cluny, I wish you wouldn't.
Oh, there's nothing to it.
It won't take more than five minutes
and then nothing
will interrupt your announcement.
I might not cook the best
tripe and onions in England,
but whoever gets me
won't have to worry about his plumbing.
RONALD: There you are, Miss Cluny!
If it's a joint, a couple of bangs might do it.
If not, we'll try something else.
Hurray! She did it. I saw it. It's running!
That's my birthday gift to your mother,
Mr Wilson.
Mrs Wilson...
Goodnight, Mrs Wilson.
- Goodnight.
- Goodnight, Mrs Wilson.
- Mother, why...
- Shh!
What's the matter? Is your mother ill?
No. Mother just wanted to be excused.
- Goodness me, it's getting late.
- Yes. We really must be going.
- Yes, quite late.
- Thank you very much for a delightful evening.
I hope it wasrt too much for your mother,
my boy.
- I hope not.
- Goodnight, Mr Wilson.
Goodnight, Mr Wilson.
Goodnight, Mr Wilson.
Goodnight, Mr Wilson.
Goodnight, Mr Wilson.
Thanks for letting me watch, Cluny.
- You were a great help.
- Come on, Ronald.
- Did I do something wrong?
- I wish I hadrt seen what I saw.
I was only trying to help.
I'd rather not discuss anything
till you make yourself presentable.
- What does one do with a woman like you?
- One feels like a fool and gets out.
In a hurry, Professor.
A good beating. That's what I ought to do.
- Give you a good beating.
- Mmm, sounds very tempting,
but unfortunately I've been brought up
to resist temptation.
Now will you take your primitive instincts
out of my room,
or shall I scream?
Why are you so vicious to my friend Andrew?
Oh, I see.
This time you came to talk about Andrew.
And I thought it was a personal call.
You're sure it isn't, Professor?
Miss Cream,
you hold no attraction for me whatever.
- None.
- Really?
That creamy complexion, those blue eyes,
those rounded shoulders, those...
Well, I assure you,
all this means very little to me.
- How little?
- Not much.
Then why is your hair so carefully combed?
And why do you smell
like a perfume salesman?
- Huh?
- Well?
- It is me, isn't it?
- I'm afraid it is.
I must have smeared a lot of stuff on my hair.
I usually don't do that.
Now why did I do it now?
I wonder why.
You know, that would be
an interesting problem for a psychoanalyst.
I could have sworn that I came here for
no other reason than to speak for a friend.
Now, it is possible
that when I reached for the brilliantine,
way down deep in my subconscious
I was reaching for something else?
Betty, I'm beginning to doubt my motives.
I wish you'd get out,
and I don't mean subconsciously.
Well, goodnight.
Betty, why are you so nasty to Andrew?
- I'll scream.
- Why should you, Betty?
Wake up the whole house?
Distress everybody?
Can't you ever think of anybody but yourself?
Doesrt it occur to you
that you could make someone else happy?
- What's happened?
- Shh.
Syrette, Maile, you needrt wait. Goodnight.
- Goodnight, milady.
- Goodnight, milady.
- I want to know what happened.
- Well, I'm sorry.
I was looking for the bathroom
and I mistook the door.
Then what are you doing with those books?
Yes. What am I doing with these books?
You know, that would be an interesting case
for a psychoanalyst.
- I could have sworn...
- I'm so sorry, Lady Carmel.
I heard my door open and thought
it was a burglar, and so I screamed.
Yes. That can easily happen
in strange houses, getting the doors mixed.
Dear me, what an exciting evening.
- Goodnight again, Professor.
- Goodnight, Lady Carmel.
My profoundest regrets. Goodnight, Andrew.
Andrew, I want you to promise me
to go right to bed.
Very well, mother. Goodnight.
- May I come in, my dear?
- Of course, Lady Carmel.
- Get back into bed, Elizabeth.
- Yes, Lady Carmel.
You know, my dear, you ought to get married.
- Do you think so, Lady Carmel?
- Quite definitely, my dear.
Yes, Lady Carmel.
- You're going to marry Andrew?
- Yes, Lady Carmel.
Then I think you should tell him so
because he's getting quite nervous.
- I'll tell him tomorrow.
- Thank you, Elizabeth.
Now go to sleep
and tomorrow we'll have a long talk,
especially about the gardens,
because they're all planned
three years ahead.
Yes, Lady Carmel.
- Goodnight, dear.
- Goodnight.
Oh, there you are.
I want a word with you, Belinski.
Sit down. Have some breakfast.
- I don't feel like breakfast today.
- Sit down anyhow.
I want to talk to you, man-to-man.
- Have you seen Andrew this morning?
- No.
- You're in for a surprise. He'll bowl you over.
- Really?
Belinski, he's not a boy any more!
Two-fisted man overnight!
Scared the wind out of me.
- You're the kindest people in the world.
- Did you know who did it?
That fellow you're running away from.
- What fellow?
- That fellow, what's-his-name, Hitler.
Good heavens!
What else happened last night?
- Was war declared?
- No, no.
But Andrew thinks it will be.
That's why he barged into my room
this morning and said,
"I'm joining the RAF and don't make a fuss,
I've made up my mind".
- Never talked to me like that before.
- Oh, the RAF.
Well, I think I'll have some breakfast.
I say, this talk about war
is all poppycock, isn't it?
No, Sir Henry. I know Hitler.
- Oh, yes, he's written a book, hasn't he?
- Yes.
- Big success, isn't it?
- Very big.
Then what more does he want?
Why doesn't he lie down and keep quiet?
Well, if you really want to know,
Sir Henry, read the book.
Sort of an outdoor book, isn't it?
What's it called? Oh, yes,
- My Camp.
- Yes.
It's a kind of an outdoor book.
The old German idea of sport.
Not your kind of sport.
- Sir Henry, there will be war, it's inevitable.
- Well, then I'm glad Andrew's joining up.
We Carmels have never shirked our duty.
No Englishman has or ever will.
We'll see this thing through.
We'll show that blighter.
It's good to see you angry, Sir Henry.
Stay angry and everything will be all right.
Henry, have you ever seen such roses?
Good morning, Professor.
Good morning, Lady Carmel.
Good morning, Miss Cream.
- Good morning, Professor Belinski.
- Good morning, Andrew.
- Morning.
- Oh, Professor.
You've heard the good news
about Betty and Andrew, haven't you?
You may congratulate us, if you like.
We're going to be married.
Imagine all this going on last night, Adam,
and we slept through it like a couple of babes.
I wish you all happiness.
- You're both very lucky.
- Thank you, Professor.
Well, I'm glad this happened
while I'm still here.
Lady Carmel, I was going to look for you.
I'm leaving.
- What? Who's leaving?
- I am, Sir Henry.
I know it's sort of sudden,
but I must get back to London.
It's most urgent.
But you're coming back right away,
aren't you, Adam?
- Well, I wish I could, Sir Henry...
- But you are coming back?
Now Henry,
we must leave that to the professor.
- We're very sorry to see you go.
- So am I, Lady Carmel.
But hang it all, it took me quite some time
to learn to say Belinski.
And now that I can say it...
No, Adam, this is beastly selfish of you.
- Oh, Professor, I want a word with you.
- Please, Andrew.
- Andrew.
- No, no, you're right, Andrew.
Give him a good dressing-down.
Tell him what's what.
I intend to, Father. Professor?
You werert looking
for the bathroom door last night, Professor.
You don't believe it, eh?
I didn't believe it last night
and I don't believe it now.
I don't believe it either.
But Andrew, if I should tell you
that I went into Miss Cream's room last night...
- In a dressing gown!
- Your dressing gown.
- That doesn't matter.
- All right.
- Forget the dressing gown.
- I won't.
Dressing gown or no dressing gown,
if I should tell you
that I went into Miss Cream's room last night
to talk about you, would you believe that?
- Would you?
- No. But I did!
- Professor...
- Yes, my friend.
Professor, I have great respect for you
as a writer,
- as a philosopher, as a man of principle.
- Thank you.
- But I'm going to knock you down. Sorry.
- So am I. Well...
- Let's get it over with.
- The sooner the better.
Just a moment.
Shouldrt we remove this vase?
Oh, yes, yes. It's Mother's favourite.
- That's very thoughtful of you, Professor.
- Not at all.
- You ready?
- Yes, my friend.
- All right.
- Uh, wait a minute.
- How much do I owe you?
- I don't know. It doesn't matter.
But it does matter!
If anything should happen to you,
I want to be sure of how much I owe you.
Uh, let's see.
You lent me 20 in London.
- Oh, forget it.
- What kind of a man do you think I am?
Forget 20?
And the 4 you lent me yesterday?
And the 3s I found in your dinner jacket?
- Are we gonna have this out or aren't we?
- Indeed we are.
But I want you to know
that I'm fighting under a handicap.
The fact that I have to hit a man
who lent me 243s
may slow me up badly.
- Are you ready?
- Yes, I'm ready.
But I want to be fair.
Now, I'm not trying to scare you,
but I think you ought to know
that I was once the lightweight champion
of all Czechoslovakia.
And I think you should know
I was middleweight champion of all Oxford
and Cambridge.
Middleweight, eh?
- Pretty warm, isn't it?
- Rather.
- What's the matter?
- Nothing.
What are you hiding?
I'm sorry, Betty, but this is something
that doesn't concern you.
Why, Andrew Carmel,
are we starting out with a secret?
Is this the kind of marriage
we're going to have?
Oh, darling, trust me. Please trust me.
Darling, if I trust you now,
I'll always have to trust you and I won't.
Now what have you got behind your back?
I suppose you think it's rather foolish of me
to lend the professor 50.
Foolish? Give him 100, 200, 300!
Oh, now, wait a minute.
I'm very fond of the professor, but after all,
- walking into your room like that.
- Well, thank heaven he did.
If I hadrt screamed last night
we wouldn't be engaged today.
You've always behaved so well
I might have died an old maid.
You're so right, Betty. We all behave too well.
We never do the wrong thing at the right time.
I've said it before and I'll say it again,
what England needs is more Belinskis.
I think one is quite enough.
Come along, darling.
Brown feels worse.
She said it's gone into her stomach now.
She says if it was only a pain like you get
after eating a whole plum pudding,
she wouldn't mind.
But she says it's more like
swallowing a Monday morning!
- She...
- That's enough, Weller.
- Go upstairs and do the beds.
- Yes.
Really, Brown never should have had
last night off.
She should have been dismissed long ago.
Her handling of the china has been sinister.
I will say, though,
she's clean and willing enough.
I don't mean to be harsh, Mrs Maile.
I don't say she clipped the cupid's wing
on the punch bowl deliberately,
but it's clipped, Mrs Maile.
And what about the master's hunting trophies?
I shall never forget the day she dusted
the left eye out of Sir Henry's moose.
No, Mrs Maile,
she was not born with
the instincts and talents of a second maid.
You're so right, Mr Syrette, so right.
One is born to things or one isn't.
I remember when I was a little girl,
I used to say to my dolly,
"Did you ring, Your Ladyship?
Shall I bring you tea, milady?"
Mrs Maile, 15 years ago,
when I saw you for the first time,
you were removing the crumbs
from Lady Carmel's bed
with such earnestness. Crumb by crumb.
I knew instantly you had the spark.
- Thank you, Mr Syrette.
- Not at all, Mrs Maile.
Good morning.
- Good morning, sir.
- Good morning, sir.
Please forgive the intrusion.
I have been to the village,
done some shopping.
- I came to say goodbye. I'm leaving.
- Indeed, sir?
I will miss you, Syrette.
And so will my one suit very much indeed.
You know, you brought glamour
into its sordid life.
You creased and increased its self-respect.
You gave it hope.
- Thank you, Mr Syrette.
- Thank you, sir.
- Shall I pack your things?
- Oh, that would be very kind.
- This is for you, Mrs Maile. Thank you.
- Thank you, sir.
Where's Cluny?
I have a little something for her.
- Browrs indisposed.
- Oh?
- Nothing serious, I hope.
- Oh, no.
I'm afraid the birthday party
was a bit too much for her.
- Oh, I see.
- Don't you think she's a fortunate girl, sir?
It isn't often a person in her place
attracts a man like Mr Wilson.
Yes, indeed. A man like Mr Wilson.
- Shall I call her? I'm sure it's all right.
- Oh, no, no. Please.
Don't, no. No, it's... It's better like this.
Will you be kind enough
to give her this for me?
And tell her please that
I'm so happy her ship has come in.
And that I wish her bon voyage
with all my heart.
- Bon voyage. I'll tell her, sir.
- But, should she ever feel unappy,
tell her just to close her eyes and say,
"Squirrels to the nuts".
You will remember that, Mrs Maile, won't you?
If she's ever unappy,
she's to close her eyes and say,
- "Nuts to the squirrels".
- No, no, no, no.
- "Squirrels to the nuts."
- "Squirrels to the nuts."
- Very good, sir.
- Goodbye, Mrs Maile.
Goodbye, sir.
- Goodbye, Lady Carmel.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Professor.
- Goodbye, Andrew.
- Goodbye, Professor.
- Goodbye, sir.
- Goodbye.
Now look here, Adam,
we're going to write each other, aren't we?
None of your puny
"Hello and how are you?" letters,
but something solid, not under five pages.
Something you can get your teeth into.
- Definitely, Sir Henry.
- Oh, Adam, what's your address?
Oh, just, uh...
"Belinski, London".
You might add, uh, "General delivery".
They know me there.
I'll remember that.
- Bye.
- Bye.
Good chap, that.
Great man.
General delivery.
So appreciative of everything.
How he loved the nightingale
under his window.
Mr Belinski! Mr Belinski!
- Where's Mr Belinski?
- He's just gone.
Oh, I didn't have a chance
to say goodbye to him.
Just look what he gave me.
Black stockings, silk stockings!
The feet are silk and so is the top.
Mr Belinski! Mr Belinski!
Mr Belinski!
Mr Belinski!
- Cluny!
- Oh, Mr Belinski.
I want to thank you. They're beautiful.
Why didn't you say goodbye to me?
You know we...
We might never see each other again.
Yes, I know, Cluny.
It's... It's kind of awful to think of.
Yes. It is awful, but...
- How is Mr Wilson?
- Oh, he's better.
- Was he sick?
- No, he was upset about his mother.
- What's the matter with her?
- She was upset about me.
Mr Belinski, I disgraced myself last night.
Everybody thought so.
Mr Snaffle, Mrs Snaffle
and especially Mr Latham.
What did you do, Cluny?
Well, you know what plumbing does to me.
Just can't keep my hands off it.
And I didn't last night.
Oh, I don't blame Mr Wilson.
You know, Mr Belinski,
men just don't marry plumbers.
Mr Wilson had a long talk with me afterwards.
He told me what he thought of me.
Some of it was in Latin.
He said, with his standing in the community,
he cannot afford a wife
who is subject to impulses,
either to pipes or to himself.
That was when he banged on the table.
Now, you'll believe everything
is over between us, wouldn't you?
Well, it isn't.
Mr Wilson is a very generous man.
He's going to ask his mother
to give me another chance.
That's very kind, isn't it?
No one could expect more.
So, if everything turns out all right,
I might still be Mrs Jonathan Wilson.
That is, if I don't behave foolishly again.
And I won't.
I'm certainly going to watch myself.
One can't be foolish
and have a place in life, can one?
Get in.
Get in.
- Where are we going, Mr Belinski?
- General delivery.
- Are you expecting a letter?
- Always.
That's what's so wonderful
about general delivery.
Letters pour into it, millions of them.
Greetings from all over the world.
Ah, you know, I've passed it many times
and I've never thought of that.
You do make one see things.
And among all those millions of letters,
there might be one for...
For us, Cluny.
It might be very disappointing,
but it might be good news.
It might come from America.
Mr Belinski, you sound as though you like me.
Cluny, if I were rich,
I would build you the most beautiful mansion,
with the most exquisite
and complicated plumbing.
And right in the middle
of the most elegant housewarming party,
I would hand you a hammer and say,
"Ladies and gentlemen,
"Madame Cluny Belinski
is about to put the pipes in their place".
Madame Belinski.
That's as good as Mrs Belinski, isn't it?
Take off that silly cap.
Take off that apron.
You will never have to serve
three meals a day again.
On the other hand,
you might not have three meals a day.
- Sometimes maybe only one.
- And sometimes maybe only none.
I don't care, so long as we eat it together,
Mr Belinski.
Just for that,
we're going to have three meals a day,
with hors d'oeuvres and champagne,
and snacks between.
You know what you've done to me?
I was going to write a book,
Morality Versus Expediency.
With luck, I might have made
barely enough money for myself.
But now, do you know what I'm going to do?
I'm going to write a bestseller.
- A murder mystery.
- A murder mystery?
- What's it going to be about?
- A murder.
- A man gets murdered.
- Who's the man?
- A rich man.
- Oh, yes.
- There's no use murdering a poor man.
- How right you are.
You see how well we work together?
- Who killed him? Who did it?
- For 365 pages, I will not know myself.
But, when on page 366 it finally comes out,
will I be surprised,
and so will millions of others!
Cluny, this book will make
enough money for both of us.
But Mr Belinski,
what if there should be three of us?
Then I'll write a sequel.
But why limit ourselves? I'll write a serial.
Oh, Mr Belinski,
I don't think I'll have much time for plumbing!