Secret Friends (1991) Movie Script
I'll kill the little bitch.
When I close my eyes
I get butterflies
And it seems to me
That time suspends
My troubles end
Because we're just secret friends
When I close my eyes
It's no surprise
You see, my darling
That it all depends
On what love sends
Because we're just secret friends
How far...
Think how far this little
wild flower has wandered, John.
How very far.
And through how many centuries.
Across what deserts, what scrub.
What emptiness of spirit.
John.
John.
Remember me?
John.
Remember me?
John...
I remember.
What have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
Stop it!
Stop it. Turn it off.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!
You bitch.
You filthy little...
bitch!
You like my body?
You want my body?
You want business?
Whatever else you may
care to give me
is a personal transaction
between you and me.
Oh, save me.
Protect me.
Protect.
Oh, fish. Poor fish.
Tell me, please.
What have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
John?
John?
No!
John, I'm sorry, but...
John, we have to talk.
You've been playing
that music again.
John, we have to talk.
You've been playing
that music loudly,
and you've no right to do that.
- Oh, for goodness' sake.
- Loudly!
Loudly, as though the
whole world were bedlam.
Press your painted finger
on the "off" button.
- Do you hear?
- I was only...
For Christ's sake, John.
What's wrong with you?
Helen, what have we agreed?
You shouldn't thrust your way
up into here without any warning.
- Look, I just want to...
- My hand jerks. I lose the line!
I'm on the finest of silver hairs
at this precise moment.
Well, I'm sorry, but...
First of all, you play that music
so sodding loud
that I can't hear myself think.
And then you clamber
your way up into here,
without the slightest warning,
just when...
Just...
This is difficult work.
It is very fine!
It is very...
John, I'm sorry.
- Lady's Mantle!
- What?
You've spoilt
my Lady's Mantle.
John, why do you speak
in that way?
Do you know that...
Do you know what they
used to use it for?
The simple country folk of...
oh, not so long ago?
John, we've got to talk.
Will you listen to me?
Will you listen to yourself?
Things are getting
out of proportion.
Do you know?
John, don't look at me like this.
Boobs.
What?
Tits.
A considerable asset in the profession
you used to adorn.
No.
No, not that. Not again!
An infusion of the flower head
was alleged to be a means of...
to be a means...
of restoring the upthrust
of the female breast.
The bounce.
Or, as I would have once
preferred to think of it,
in specific reference to you, Helen...
their joyous...
heartbreaking...
lift.
- Say it.
- No!
Go on, say it!
- John, this is sick!
- Please, please...
please...
Whatever else...
Whatever else
you may care to give me...
is a personal transaction
between you and me.
Please don't start this, John.
You know it's a total fantasy.
It's got out of hand.
It's gone too far.
816...
It seemed miraculous to me
that not one of the
uncountable numbers of men
who'd enjoyed themselves here
on this, had spoilt it.
What have we done to ourselves?
And why?
Why?!
My love.
My poor little love.
My sweet... dream of a song.
I'm very sorry.
Will you forgive?
I suppose you must have
known very well
that someone was
looking at you.
Through one of those
peep-hole things in the door.
Sorry?
816. Room 816.
816?
We had an arrangement.
I looked at you, standing there.
And I lost my nerve.
I simply could not,
not open the door.
Yes?
- Well, that's all very well, but...
- You looked so much more beautiful.
And so much more vulnerable
than I'd expected.
As though...
and this is my own indulgence.
But,
as though you had a
secret little tune in your head,
and I think I know which one.
What?
Well, I looked, and I looked,
and I heard my heart beating
somewhere beneath
the blue ribbons
of sound.
The saxophone under.
The music suddenly stopped.
Do you want me to
come back to your room?
No, I do not.
Well, that's all very well,
but an arrangement had been...
I'm not going to waste my time...
I don't want to
let you down, of course.
Please don't worry about that.
When I close my eyes
I get butterflies
And it seems to me
That time suspends
My troubles end
Because we're just secret friends
- As in an old film.
- What?
The old films.
Which old films?
- Any old film.
- Sorry?
When the couple we love,
who make their entrance...
When I close my eyes
It's no surprise
You see, my darling
That it all depends
On what love sends
Because we're just secret friends
Paging Miss Fiona Marshall.
Telephone call at reception for
Miss Fiona Marshall, thank you.
Leave me alone.
Keep your eyes off me.
Leave me alone.
Mmm.
- Are you here on...?
- You are beautiful.
Thank you.
Are you here on a business trip,
or is this a vacation?
Don't.
- What?
- Please, no.
I don't want you to give me
a standardly sweet smile
and a standardly innocuous
first question.
Be yourself.
You have to give me
fifty pounds for the agency.
And whatever else
you may care to give me
is a personal transaction
between you and me.
There's no hurry, is there?
It takes time to
find out about each other.
What do you mean?
I mean,
I don't see this ending
right here and now.
Tonight, or tomorrow.
Or anything like that.
I have plans for you.
Sit still, John.
How many times have you
passed by an unremarkable hedge
by the boundary of
a perfectly ordinary field,
perhaps full of your
everyday concerns,
your eyes scarcely able to see
what is to be seen
in even the humblest corner
of the Lord God's loving Creation.
Sit still, John.
How many times,
in the course of a day spent
out in the fresh air,
whether in honest toil,
or healthy exercise,
how often have you had
occasion to see,
perhaps without a thought,
the bright
yellow flowers
of tanacetum vulgare?
And what, I can hear you ask,
is that, when it is at home?
Tanacetum vulgare,
as our good friends
the botanists would call it,
is better known to us as...?
John, sit still.
No, no, he is attentive.
I wonder, John, if you happen
to know what it is in its, um...
shall I say everyday dress, hmm?
I only ask because I happened
to mention it to you
on our jolly little walk
the other day.
Try, John.
The answer is not
up there, now is it?
I doubt very much
whether you'll find it
- written on the ceiling, my lad...
- Please God,
oh, please, please, God,
tell me the answer.
Take no notice, bugger him!
And his bloody flower!
Try, John.
All right, all right, a clue.
I will give you a clue, my boy.
Small yellow flowers.
in a cluster.
And the flower, flat on top,
in what we call a disc shape.
Hmm?
Hmm?
Yes, Father.
Yes, Daddy.
Sanctimonious bastard!
And if that
doesn't give it away,
may I ask you to address
yourself to the smell.
Hmm?
Hmm?
It's full of snot and bogeys,
it's full of hairs and snot!
F-f-f-f-fee-fee...
feverfew?
Feverfew is basically white.
Feverfew is a white flower!
I'm sorry, Father.
Tansy!
The name is Tansy.
Yes, Father. Tansy.
I remember now.
I think, John,
that you hardly deserve to share
the supper table with us this evening.
Perhaps it would be best,
when you've heard
and, I hope, inwardly digested
the rest of this little piece,
if you were to take yourself
off to your bed, my boy.
Yes, Father.
I will be up later
to admonish you.
Yes, Father.
I don't want you to
think of me
as an unreasonable person, John.
I want you to ask yourself
whether it is fair,
whether it is just.
Now wouldn't you
say that it was?
- No!
- Hmm?
Yes, Father.
81... 6.
816, 816.
Index number 816.
"Kill her!"
Kill who?
...if you're trying
to tell me to use earnings per share...
Oh, save us. Oh, protect me.
What have I done? Oh, what have I...
Which is what they all want, and...
I said, I said,
then you've placed
yourself at the mercy
of easily manipulated quantities.
Absolutely.
They call it...
"creative accounting".
All those little shits, you know,
with briefcases that you can
only open if you...
Excuse...
Sorry?
Help. Help.
Can you please tell me,
I mean, um...
I mean...
Am I, by any chance...
with you?
Are we...?
Oh, Christ!
Are we travelling together?
On the same train, do you mean?
What is it?
Are you feeling unwell?
I was looking out of
the window here.
Um...
Yes?
You were looking out of the...
And when I turned my head away,
I realised that I didn't know
where I was.
I mean, why I was here.
Sitting here with...
with this...
this dead fish in front of me.
Or where I've been.
Or where I was going.
Or who I am!
I don't know who I am!
I find the things you do
When I'm thinking of you
You're just so irresistible
I'm afflicted and addicted by
The things you do
When I'm dreaming of you
You're just so unpredictable
I'm afflicted and addicted by
The things you do...
I find the things you...
I don't think I like
this tune very much.
It reminds me of something
I don't want to know.
Yeah?
Once upon a time,
I wanted to be a great artist.
Con artist, do you mean?
I meant it.
I'm afraid I mean
what I'm saying.
If not great, then at least
a considerable one.
Not just accomplished,
you understand.
Mere skill would not do.
It'll do for starters.
But I'm not good enough.
I'm not quite up to it.
What a shame.
It was a pity while it
remained a disappointment.
What is your disappointment in life?
Your major one, I mean,
if I may ask?
Too big a traffic area
through my bedroom.
Er, no, seriously, tell me.
What are you really
disappointed about?
- I mean, what...?
- How many fingers have you got?
- Sorry?
- Because I've lost count.
All right, I'll play along.
Like, um...
not being able to play
a musical instrument.
How'll that do?
- Which?
- Sorry?
- Which musical instrument?
- Comb and paper.
Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen.
The bar and buffet situated in
the middle of the train is now open.
Selling teas, coffees, drinks,
hot and cold snacks.
Bar and buffet is now open,
thank you.
Oh, I don't know.
Not getting more than
three O-Levels, I suppose.
I hadn't worked, though.
But I thought I was worth more.
Which?
- Sorry?
- Which three?
English Language,
English Literature,
and French.
Good, good. Language orientated.
- And the French was for...
- And you didn't want to go on with it?
School, A-Levels, college, all that?
No, I...
What are we talking about?
I'm not a social worker, you know.
- Where did you go to school?
- In England.
A school for girls, presumably.
Or perhaps I should say
"young ladies".
I'm not going to talk about school,
or anything else,
until I know I'm not
wasting my time.
Got it?
- Ah, a private school, I should imagine.
- I mean...
do you want
good old straight
up-and-down intercourse,
or, um...
do you have any specialities
in mind?
Do you want oral?
Or a good smacking?
That's one of the things
that's wrong with England.
What?
A question about schooldays
is seen as something very dangerous.
A weapon.
A hidden pointer to something else.
Well, maybe it is.
Go on, eat your crisp.
- What?
- Eat your crisp.
Thank you.
This is a staff announcement.
Would the duty banqueting manager
please contact Reception.
Do you normally speak like that?
I mean, as grossly as just now.
You reminded me of someone else.
Asking all that stuff about school,
and all that shit.
I mean, in your real life.
My real life?
Your private life.
When you're not out
on a job like this,
do you use gutter language
there, too?
What sort of hypocrite are you?
A mealy-mouthed one.
What are we talking about?
A life.
Is... is this...
is this some kind of a joke?
I know, I know,
I'm upsetting you.
I'm putting it all very badly.
But no, it's not a joke.
I want you, and...
Then you pay for me.
We all pay for each other.
And we all pay
for what we are.
All the time.
I don't know about that, Joe,
but you pay for me.
And you pay by the hour.
Is there something you want?
Sorry?
You seem more interested
in what is going on over here
than in your own affairs.
No, that's not it at all.
Would you please
be good enough
to drag your hot eyes away
from my young lady?
Hey now,
there's no call for that.
Your what?
Or do you want to come
and sit with us?
Your young lady?
Money, you want
to talk about money.
Fine. I don't think that's going
to be any special problem.
How much?
Look, you don't have to talk so...
This is our business, nobody else's.
Now, let's talk about exactly
how much you would like.
And what, precisely,
you are willing to do...
to get it.
Yuck!
Helen? Where are you?
I don't know.
- Helen, where are you?
- Kitchen!
Helen, answer me.
Where the hell are you?
I'm in the kitchen!
John?
What do you want?
Why are you shouting?
John?
It's what we are,
surely?
Not what we do.
- Isn't that right, Helen?
- John?
What are you...?
What's the matter?
Helen...
help me.
No!
John!
What's happening?
What's happened?
We all have to...
we all...
But John?
What's the...?
- Are you feeling ill, or has...?
- III.
You look as though
you've seen a ghost.
For goodness' sake,
what is all this?
A ghost?
They were wrong!
What do you mean, a ghost?
They were wrong!
John, for Christ's sake!
Weren't you taught that
it is rude to shout?
And offensive to blaspheme?
What?
Screw you!
And screw you, too.
A more general invitation.
And one that you
are certainly used to.
Hello.
- Hello?
- Do you want business?
I'm sorry,
do you know me?
Do I want what?
A fuck, or a suck?
Anything you fancy.
A what?!
Do I want a what?
Hey!
Changed your mind?
This is not right.
But I thought you
wanted it this way.
Come on.
Fuck me, darling!
This cannot be the
correct way to behave.
Oh, you're just a dickhead!
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
- John...
- What about it?
John, you flinched.
I, um, I...
You can't bear me to touch you.
You know the Stoners and Angela
are coming to dinner, don't you?
I suppose you've no objection
to touching Angela?
- What do you mean?
- You think I don't know.
Something did happen, didn't it?
Between you two.
I thought we'd always
tell each other the truth, John.
I thought we'd agreed to do that,
no matter what.
- What is truth?
- What?
- Pontius Pilate.
- Angela.
- What about her?
- The... bitch!
You don't think I, er...
It was... it...
Oh, you don't understand.
Oh, but I do.
What are you so...
paranoid about?
God Almighty!
Nothing has happened,
nothing whatsoever.
Something's certainly happened
between us, that's for sure.
Is that it, John?
Is that what all of this is about?
You can't bear me to touch you.
I live and breathe you.
And when you're not there,
I feel myself
being dragged
deeper and deeper and...
The smile's gone out
of your eyes, John.
The smile that was for me.
That lovely, gentle smile.
It's not there anymore.
I don't know what
you're talking about.
Steady. Steady now.
I don't know... I don't...
I can't... seem to...
Now, now, old chap.
Anything wrong here, gents?
Everything all right?
Ev... everything is...
everything is...
coming up roses.
Well, I hope it's nothing that's
been brought on by the food, sir.
- For God's sake!
- It's my job, sir.
Can't you see that
this man is not well?
I can see that very well, sir.
And it's my job to see
there's nothing amiss with...
what was it the gentleman had?
The fish, yes?
Fish?
Sole, sir.
And you'd have done better
with the steak.
I have lost my memory.
You've done what, sir?
I do not know who I am!
Would you like me to get you
something else, sir?
Like what! Like what?
The gentlemen seemed
to appreciate the steak.
I'm sorry about all the fuss.
It was a... well, it was a shock,
and I felt very upset.
But I understand
what is happening now.
In the circumstances,
it might be advisable
for me to have a hot drink.
Perhaps you'd be kind enough to
bring me, er... some coffee?
Certainly, sir.
And to take my...
fish away.
Oh, right away, sir.
So...
what are we going to do
about you, eh?
Hmm?
Oh, no.
Not just the little boys.
Christ, no. The little girls could be
unspeakably tough, too.
One little bitch threatened to
strangle me, honestly.
Genghis Khan in red hair ribbons
and navy blue knickers.
Good for her!
Violence is usually
the other way round.
Boys to girls.
And men to women.
The only thing a
seven-year-old boy
who didn't like
rough games could do
was to skulk off on my own.
with a secret friend.
You know, a made-up one.
Oh, I had one of those, Martin.
A secret friend. Oh, yes!
Imaginary chums are so much braver
and more interesting than real ones.
And imaginary mistresses.
So much more erotic, eh, Angela?
Mmm?
Imaginary, Martin?
My problem always used to be
how to find a space
where I could be on my own.
Damned if I was going to
make up pretend friends,
when I spent so much time
trying to get away from the real ones.
But you had brothers and sisters.
So?
I was an only child, Kate.
And there were no
children next door, either.
John?
I thought at first
it was the cat.
Er... what was?
We had a cat called Toby.
The colour of ashes in the grate
after a fire had been kept in all night.
Um... what exactly
are we talking about?
There weren't so many
new buildings around this house
when it used to be the vicarage.
I was marooned here
as a boy.
Scruffy little village.
The church, not much else.
When I was a boy...
in the winter-time...
My God!
A cold, old house this.
I used to see the lighted trains
go by in the distance.
They looked like ribbons.
Illuminated.
Glowing,
with all the mystery
and yearning of...
travel.
And this was the
sort of place
you would very much
want to get away from.
Oh, those trains.
Those ribbons of light.
That ache...
of promise.
Those men with the little notebooks
at the end of the platform,
taking down
train numbers.
They're so weird and earnest.
You feel they're doing that
because they've never
taken down anything else.
I used to talk to the cat.
He knew what I was saying.
And what I was thinking.
Or so I thought.
But it gradually dawned on me
that that was not the case.
Congratulations.
Ssssh!
The cat walked out of
the room once too often,
with his tail in the air,
showing the little round button
of his arse.
I had to find another friend.
A more reliable one.
Oh, back to that, are we?
The secret friend.
We never left it.
He came to me
out of nothing, and out of nowhere.
Walking across the flat fields,
and over the thorny hedges.
It's a wonder he ever found me.
Oh, please don't come up, Father.
Don't come up.
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy..."
Are you there? Hey?
"Hallowed be thy name.
"Thy kingdom come,
"thy will be..."
Where are you? Hey?
Where have you gone?
"Thy will be done,
on Earth as it is in heaven.
"Give us this day
our daily bread.
- "And lead us not into tempt..."
- Don't worry, John.
Don't worry.
I'm with you.
I thought you'd gone, John.
What, me?
Not on your nelly.
He's going to give me
the strap.
Why don't you tell him to
shove it up his...
arse?
Ssssh.
"Give us this day
our daily bread,
"and lead us not into temptation.
- "Forgive us our trespasses..."
- Listen to this!
What?
How about this, John?
Listen to this one.
Oh, John, John!
Oh John, you are naughty.
He came everywhere with me.
I couldn't have
shaken him off even...
even if I'd wanted to.
John...?
What are you doing over there?
I tried it once, just to see
what would happen.
I ran...
I ran...
as fast as I could.
And...
when I had to stop...
out of breath...
he was there, too.
What?
Oh.
Yes.
Sorry.
Okay.
Okay, I'm talking like...
Well, you're giving me
a headache.
Mmm, this aniseedy sort of...
fennel.
You know, I've been eating it, Helen,
and not knowing what it was.
You are clever.
Accident, not design.
He ran where I ran.
He walked where I walked.
He sat next to me at table.
And he...
he put the same...
food...
in his mouth...
and he...
swallowed it down...
at the same time as I did.
This make-believe chum of yours.
Did he have a name, John?
Look in your wallet.
- Turn out your pockets.
- Examine your things.
Oh, yes, yes. Of course.
Thank you very much.
Pig.
What?!
Pigskin.
Well... it's not cheap stuff.
Isn't that reassuring?
- You'd better look inside.
- Yes, yes, look.
Leave me alone.
Skin.
Unrolled from the back
of a slaughtered pig.
Of what account are
its helpless screams?
Well, open it up, then.
Phew!
You're not short of
a penny or two, are you?
What'd you do, rob a bank?
Perhaps.
I've no idea what I've done.
Credit cards.
Look for credit cards.
They'll have your name on.
Driving licence, membership card,
anything like that.
No, no, no, credit cards.
Look, they'll have your name on.
What can I do?
Where can I go?
Where can I stay?
I don't even know
what day of the week it is.
- Thursday.
- What?
It's a Thursday... I think.
Find library, reference, look it up.
"Amnesia."
Safer than going to
some quack or walking into a...
Police! No!
Expose myself!
Money. All this money.
It's a lot to be carrying around.
Especially nowadays.
You'll have to keep both eyes open.
No driving licence?
Not even a credit card?
Just...
money.
Solitary.
Solitary.
Let me be solitary.
Can you really remember nothing?
Nothing at all?
Get hold of any
one recollection, and...
follow the thread of it.
Let me see.
You were already on the train
when we got on.
- Sitting here.
- That was Swindon.
So you must have
travelled from, er...
Bristol Parkway, Newport,
Cardiff, or...
one of those other
places in Wales.
You don't sound Welsh,
if I may say so.
Bet that's a relief, eh?
What does your ticket say?
Oh no, they've been collected.
You haven't got a ticket.
If you'd have had a return,
you'd have known where
you'd started from.
Unless he came from London,
and he's going back.
London?
That's where the train's going.
London!
You don't seem to
have any keys on you.
Do you have any keys?
I said... excuse me,
I said, do you have any keys?
816, 816, 816...
John?
Oh, Martin.
Hello.
Oh, I'm very used to
beautiful young ladies
sounding devastated when
they hear my voice.
I wondered if I could have a word
with the master of the house?
I'm rocketing homeward
on the bloody train,
but I presume he's still bent over
his bloody daubs?
- Doesn't want to be disturbed, eh?
- You can't, Martin.
He's gone to London.
He's...
I... I can't tell you
exactly where he is.
I mean...
he's obviously decided
to stay over for a...
- He's seeing a publisher.
- What's wrong, Helen?
You sound down in the dumps.
Lovely ladies should
never be sad, tra-la.
I've got some news that might cheer up
your miserable sod of a hubby.
At least, it's about
the house.
The house?
- What house?
- Well, the market's flat.
In fact, it's on the down escalator.
But I told him I wouldn't have to
look very far down the Edgware Road
to find a camel herder
with cash in hand.
And, clever old me,
I think I've already come up with...
- This house?
- What?
Yes, your house.
What are you talking about?
What do you mean,
what am I talking about?
John said he wanted to...
to, um...
That you were moving away...
I'm sorry, Helen, have I...?
Moving away.
Helen...
- Did you hang...
- Yes, I did!
Screw you!
I might even do that.
Ah, the country diary of
an Edwardian lady.
Lie on your back and
think of weed killer?
Hello, Angela.
Oh dear, what's the matter?
Nothing, really.
When people say "nothing, really"
haven't you noticed, they
usually mean "yes, something"?
Is it John?
Something did happen, didn't it?
Between you two.
No credit cards, no keys,
no luggage.
No head on my shoulders.
These things
are sent to try us, aren't they?
Yes.
But why me?
So, how many nights, sir?
- Well, since my wife is not at, er...
- How many nights?
- My wife is...
- How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
Nights?
How...
many...
How many...
nights?
How many... nights?
How... many... nights?
How many nights?
Um...
just tonight.
Or...
I'm afraid I'm going to
have to ask you
for a hundred and eighty pounds
in advance.
Yes, of course you must.
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
Nights...?
How... many...
Don't... panic...
Don't... don't... don't...
don't panic.
Don't panic, don't panic.
Don't... don't.
Don't panic.
Don't... don't...
Don't...
Do you mean
there's someone else?
You tell me.
No, no, I'm not saying it's funny.
It's just...
it's just that question.
- What question?
- Well, I mean,
it's the one they always
used to say in the serials.
The soaps, you know.
"Do you mean there's someone else?"
It's the way it comes out.
- Know what I mean?
- Yes, absolutely.
I like drinking.
At this sort of time.
Oh, there's some cheese
if you'd like.
No, no, booze is better.
In some ways it would be
better if there were.
- Sorry?
- Somebody else.
You don't mean that.
But I honestly don't think
he's capable of it.
- First man in history.
- Oh...
John was always
a bit of a...
puritan.
No wonder.
Living in this weird old house
with a slap-the-pulpit father,
and a timid mother
with a cleft palate.
- Really?
- Oh, I thought you knew.
John's talked to you a lot.
Hasn't he?
Well, yes, but, um...
When you say
he's a "puritan", John...
Do you mean that, um...
Well, he... he sort of...
- sort of...
- Doesn't like it all that much.
Lots of men don't, you know.
They like the idea of it,
the little piggies,
but their ideas are
too big for their...
Fantasies?
Well, yes, if you
want to put it that way.
Fantasies?
They can be very powerful, and...
unsettling.
How do you mean?
Well...
Come on.
Between us?
Between us.
I...
No.
I'm not drunk enough.
I suppose you noticed at dinner here,
the other week, Martin Stoner.
And you?
The bloody fool!
Kate's bound to have picked it up,
the way he was simpering at me
across the table.
Well, it was a bit obvious.
Now, there's your
classic fantasist, Martin is.
Oh, these older men.
Wants to screw in the back of a car,
because he never did it
like that as a teenager.
And never mind my head
bumping against the bloody door.
Why do you do it?
Boredom, darling.
Oh...
Come on, my girl.
What ails thee?
Index number 816.
Ah!
I see.
I see.
Well, that's not so.
I mean, it's only in the head,
isn't it?
I don't mean to laugh, but...
but, well, when you think about it,
I mean...
sex is funny, isn't it?
A bloody hoot!
It's as though he's
convinced himself that I really was...
really, really was what he's
made me pretend to be.
Do it!
Do it!
Do it!
Sometimes, it gets so bad,
I sort of half think he's right.
I mean, I catch myself thinking
the same way as he thinks,
and persuading myself that I'm...
like that.
- Bloody hell.
- I have to tap, tap, tap the door.
Our own bedroom door.
All drenched in perfume,
and dressed like a...
Tap, tap on the door.
And say...
"Hello!"
Like that.
- "Hello"?
- Like that.
"Whatever else you may
care to give me
"is a personal transaction
between you and me."
Christ!
What are you looking at me
like that for?
I don't suppose he made you
pretend to be a whore, did he?
- What?
- Because you already are one!
Sit still, John.
Sit still!
Oh, oh, I see,
it's a wild flower.
Oh, such a pretty bloom.
And what do we do with
a pretty flower, my boy?
We pluck it!
Who is she?
Who?
Who?
Who?
Who, who is she?
Who?
Filth.
Everywhere.
Filth!
Filth.
A fuck or a suck?
Anything you fancy.
Do you want business?
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...
and so is she.
The bitch, the rotten bitch
is gone, gone, gone...
Do you want business?
I'm sorry if I, er...
I mean, er... I didn't mean to
spy on you or anything like that.
It's, um... a kind of a yoga.
Um... what do you call it?
A mantra.
Oh yes, of course, er...
- Help you think, isn't that it?
- Lose yourself.
In a way.
I was hoping John
would be back by now.
No.
He isn't.
- Helen, when I telephoned just a...
- No.
He isn't.
Helen, there's something wrong,
isn't there?
I don't want to poke my nose in,
but, er...
Helen, you didn't seem to know
that John has asked me
to put this house on the market.
No.
I didn't.
I wouldn't have dreamed
of saying anything about it.
John is bound to talk it over
with you, and...
He's not coming back.
He's gone.
He's left me.
Left you?
I can't believe it.
It's me.
It's my fault.
He despises me.
I was too much for him in the end.
The dirt just choked in his throat.
It was too...
much.
- What was?
- Yesterday was.
My past was.
What I...
used to be.
And I...
was very...
very...
good at it.
Big soft bed.
Long hard fuck.
Christ, it's, er...
Helen.
It's not fair on a fellow, you know,
to sit, er...
the way you're sitting.
The past is one thing
you can do nothing about.
I'm sick of trying to
push it away from me.
I'm sick of pretending.
I don't know what you're...
You poor thing.
You wouldn't say that
if you knew the truth.
I've brought it all on myself.
It's my own fault.
I haven't always been Helen.
I called myself something else.
I did things you'd never even dream.
Listen to me!
Oh, you lucky devil!
You dirty devil!
I am. You dirty bitch!
Say you are! Say you are!
I'm a dirty bitch!
I'm a whore!
Don't stop.
Don't stop, don't slow down.
Don't stop!
Filth!
She's a whore!
Kill her!
Who?
Where?
What?!
Don't worry about it.
Trust me.
Go and lie down.
Don't be silly.
Go on.
There's something you have to do.
Remember?
Something I have to do.
Something I have to do.
Something!
So far as I can recall,
there are more than...
two thousand different
kinds of wild flower,
which might properly be considered
as native to this country.
Ha ha! And we've only done
five per cent of them.
But then a hundred of these
are enough for a publisher.
They're all dickheads anyway.
Let's see what
they make of it, anyway.
Lady's Mantle.
Woodlands Flush.
Deadly Nightshade, eh?
All in here.
All safe.
Be good.
And if you can't be good, well...
be yourself.
No.
No.
It can not be!
It cannot...
cannot...
can not be!
Best thing you could do
would be to talk to the police.
Go to a police station
as soon as we arrive.
Police?
No.
Stay clear.
No police.
They're supposed
to be the professionals, after all.
They must have some idea
what to do.
If you report yourself as a...
missing person.
Did he have a name, John?
And imaginary mistresses?
So much more erotic, eh?
- John?
- No!
No, no!
No!
Fornicators!
Come on.
Come on, then. Go to her.
Eh?
Carry on screwing, eh?
Eh? In privacy.
Privacy.
Dirty beasts.
Dirty Martin.
Dirty Angela.
Dirty, dirty Angela.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
What?
What's wrong with the fish?
- What? What?
- I...
I didn't say a thing. Not a word.
What did you say, Jimmy?
No, it wasn't the fish.
- Scalp yer!
- No, please, please.
Fish is good for
your brains, you twat.
I'll scalp yer! Shagging scalp yer!
Nurse, help! Nurse!
This is a personal transaction
between you and me.
Help!
Nurse!
Help!
God!
This is a psychiatric ward.
They're mad in here.
They're all out of their minds.
But I'm not, am I?
Yes, you are.
But I'm not.
No.
No, you never were.
Why can't I be like you?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where?
Please!
Where have you gone?
- They were wrong!
- Please!
They were wrong!
- Where? Please!
- They were wrong!
Where are you?
Mmm... what is "mmm"?
Are you a bumble bee?
Please! Please!
You want my body?
You want business?
Where are you?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
It's all right.
It's all right.
- Please, please, where are you?
- I'm here.
Trust me, trust me.
- Please! Please!
- I'll kill the little bitch!
Christ...
Can hardly breathe.
John!
I have this nightmare,
this continual nightmare.
Angela?
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I...
Yes.
Once. I did it once.
Once, Helen.
It's...
It chokes me.
The guilt.
It makes me turn
into someone else.
It makes me turn
you into a...
That's why I can't.
I dream of killing her.
I dream of making
you kill her.
I dream of the gutter.
I dream of...
Yes, I...
even dream of killing Martin.
Why Martin?
Because he's having her.
So you still want her?
No.
Oh, Helen. Helen...
I'm just...
tired.
I'm very, very...
tired.
Put the light out.
I'm not going to pretend anymore.
John.
Do you understand?
No more.
You should do something
about that cough.
Honey and lemon.
Honey...
and lemon?
- John, it's not possible.
- You be the honey, and I'll be the...
John, we've made each other sick.
It's not possible to live out
a fantasy. It's dangerous.
It's too dangerous.
Honey and lemon.
Not too much lemon.
Trust me.
Can I?
Yes.
You can.
Honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon, honey and lemon,
honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon,
honey and lemon.
I find the things you do
When I'm thinking of you
I'm just so irresistible
I'm afflicted and addicted
By the things you do
When I'm dreaming of you
You're just so unpredictable
I'm afflicted and addicted
By the things you do
I've started to talk about it all.
I have started the journey.
I won't get off until I'm...
better.
I find the things you do
I find the things you do
When I'm dreaming of you
When I close my eyes
I get butterflies
And it seems to me
That time suspends
My troubles end
Because we're just secret friends
When I close my eyes
I get butterflies
And it seems to me
That time suspends
My troubles end
Because we're just secret friends
When I close my eyes
It's no surprise
You see, my darling
That it all depends
On what love sends
Because we're just secret friends
How far...
Think how far this little
wild flower has wandered, John.
How very far.
And through how many centuries.
Across what deserts, what scrub.
What emptiness of spirit.
John.
John.
Remember me?
John.
Remember me?
John...
I remember.
What have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
Stop it!
Stop it. Turn it off.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!
You bitch.
You filthy little...
bitch!
You like my body?
You want my body?
You want business?
Whatever else you may
care to give me
is a personal transaction
between you and me.
Oh, save me.
Protect me.
Protect.
Oh, fish. Poor fish.
Tell me, please.
What have I done?
Oh, what have I done?
John?
John?
No!
John, I'm sorry, but...
John, we have to talk.
You've been playing
that music again.
John, we have to talk.
You've been playing
that music loudly,
and you've no right to do that.
- Oh, for goodness' sake.
- Loudly!
Loudly, as though the
whole world were bedlam.
Press your painted finger
on the "off" button.
- Do you hear?
- I was only...
For Christ's sake, John.
What's wrong with you?
Helen, what have we agreed?
You shouldn't thrust your way
up into here without any warning.
- Look, I just want to...
- My hand jerks. I lose the line!
I'm on the finest of silver hairs
at this precise moment.
Well, I'm sorry, but...
First of all, you play that music
so sodding loud
that I can't hear myself think.
And then you clamber
your way up into here,
without the slightest warning,
just when...
Just...
This is difficult work.
It is very fine!
It is very...
John, I'm sorry.
- Lady's Mantle!
- What?
You've spoilt
my Lady's Mantle.
John, why do you speak
in that way?
Do you know that...
Do you know what they
used to use it for?
The simple country folk of...
oh, not so long ago?
John, we've got to talk.
Will you listen to me?
Will you listen to yourself?
Things are getting
out of proportion.
Do you know?
John, don't look at me like this.
Boobs.
What?
Tits.
A considerable asset in the profession
you used to adorn.
No.
No, not that. Not again!
An infusion of the flower head
was alleged to be a means of...
to be a means...
of restoring the upthrust
of the female breast.
The bounce.
Or, as I would have once
preferred to think of it,
in specific reference to you, Helen...
their joyous...
heartbreaking...
lift.
- Say it.
- No!
Go on, say it!
- John, this is sick!
- Please, please...
please...
Whatever else...
Whatever else
you may care to give me...
is a personal transaction
between you and me.
Please don't start this, John.
You know it's a total fantasy.
It's got out of hand.
It's gone too far.
816...
It seemed miraculous to me
that not one of the
uncountable numbers of men
who'd enjoyed themselves here
on this, had spoilt it.
What have we done to ourselves?
And why?
Why?!
My love.
My poor little love.
My sweet... dream of a song.
I'm very sorry.
Will you forgive?
I suppose you must have
known very well
that someone was
looking at you.
Through one of those
peep-hole things in the door.
Sorry?
816. Room 816.
816?
We had an arrangement.
I looked at you, standing there.
And I lost my nerve.
I simply could not,
not open the door.
Yes?
- Well, that's all very well, but...
- You looked so much more beautiful.
And so much more vulnerable
than I'd expected.
As though...
and this is my own indulgence.
But,
as though you had a
secret little tune in your head,
and I think I know which one.
What?
Well, I looked, and I looked,
and I heard my heart beating
somewhere beneath
the blue ribbons
of sound.
The saxophone under.
The music suddenly stopped.
Do you want me to
come back to your room?
No, I do not.
Well, that's all very well,
but an arrangement had been...
I'm not going to waste my time...
I don't want to
let you down, of course.
Please don't worry about that.
When I close my eyes
I get butterflies
And it seems to me
That time suspends
My troubles end
Because we're just secret friends
- As in an old film.
- What?
The old films.
Which old films?
- Any old film.
- Sorry?
When the couple we love,
who make their entrance...
When I close my eyes
It's no surprise
You see, my darling
That it all depends
On what love sends
Because we're just secret friends
Paging Miss Fiona Marshall.
Telephone call at reception for
Miss Fiona Marshall, thank you.
Leave me alone.
Keep your eyes off me.
Leave me alone.
Mmm.
- Are you here on...?
- You are beautiful.
Thank you.
Are you here on a business trip,
or is this a vacation?
Don't.
- What?
- Please, no.
I don't want you to give me
a standardly sweet smile
and a standardly innocuous
first question.
Be yourself.
You have to give me
fifty pounds for the agency.
And whatever else
you may care to give me
is a personal transaction
between you and me.
There's no hurry, is there?
It takes time to
find out about each other.
What do you mean?
I mean,
I don't see this ending
right here and now.
Tonight, or tomorrow.
Or anything like that.
I have plans for you.
Sit still, John.
How many times have you
passed by an unremarkable hedge
by the boundary of
a perfectly ordinary field,
perhaps full of your
everyday concerns,
your eyes scarcely able to see
what is to be seen
in even the humblest corner
of the Lord God's loving Creation.
Sit still, John.
How many times,
in the course of a day spent
out in the fresh air,
whether in honest toil,
or healthy exercise,
how often have you had
occasion to see,
perhaps without a thought,
the bright
yellow flowers
of tanacetum vulgare?
And what, I can hear you ask,
is that, when it is at home?
Tanacetum vulgare,
as our good friends
the botanists would call it,
is better known to us as...?
John, sit still.
No, no, he is attentive.
I wonder, John, if you happen
to know what it is in its, um...
shall I say everyday dress, hmm?
I only ask because I happened
to mention it to you
on our jolly little walk
the other day.
Try, John.
The answer is not
up there, now is it?
I doubt very much
whether you'll find it
- written on the ceiling, my lad...
- Please God,
oh, please, please, God,
tell me the answer.
Take no notice, bugger him!
And his bloody flower!
Try, John.
All right, all right, a clue.
I will give you a clue, my boy.
Small yellow flowers.
in a cluster.
And the flower, flat on top,
in what we call a disc shape.
Hmm?
Hmm?
Yes, Father.
Yes, Daddy.
Sanctimonious bastard!
And if that
doesn't give it away,
may I ask you to address
yourself to the smell.
Hmm?
Hmm?
It's full of snot and bogeys,
it's full of hairs and snot!
F-f-f-f-fee-fee...
feverfew?
Feverfew is basically white.
Feverfew is a white flower!
I'm sorry, Father.
Tansy!
The name is Tansy.
Yes, Father. Tansy.
I remember now.
I think, John,
that you hardly deserve to share
the supper table with us this evening.
Perhaps it would be best,
when you've heard
and, I hope, inwardly digested
the rest of this little piece,
if you were to take yourself
off to your bed, my boy.
Yes, Father.
I will be up later
to admonish you.
Yes, Father.
I don't want you to
think of me
as an unreasonable person, John.
I want you to ask yourself
whether it is fair,
whether it is just.
Now wouldn't you
say that it was?
- No!
- Hmm?
Yes, Father.
81... 6.
816, 816.
Index number 816.
"Kill her!"
Kill who?
...if you're trying
to tell me to use earnings per share...
Oh, save us. Oh, protect me.
What have I done? Oh, what have I...
Which is what they all want, and...
I said, I said,
then you've placed
yourself at the mercy
of easily manipulated quantities.
Absolutely.
They call it...
"creative accounting".
All those little shits, you know,
with briefcases that you can
only open if you...
Excuse...
Sorry?
Help. Help.
Can you please tell me,
I mean, um...
I mean...
Am I, by any chance...
with you?
Are we...?
Oh, Christ!
Are we travelling together?
On the same train, do you mean?
What is it?
Are you feeling unwell?
I was looking out of
the window here.
Um...
Yes?
You were looking out of the...
And when I turned my head away,
I realised that I didn't know
where I was.
I mean, why I was here.
Sitting here with...
with this...
this dead fish in front of me.
Or where I've been.
Or where I was going.
Or who I am!
I don't know who I am!
I find the things you do
When I'm thinking of you
You're just so irresistible
I'm afflicted and addicted by
The things you do
When I'm dreaming of you
You're just so unpredictable
I'm afflicted and addicted by
The things you do...
I find the things you...
I don't think I like
this tune very much.
It reminds me of something
I don't want to know.
Yeah?
Once upon a time,
I wanted to be a great artist.
Con artist, do you mean?
I meant it.
I'm afraid I mean
what I'm saying.
If not great, then at least
a considerable one.
Not just accomplished,
you understand.
Mere skill would not do.
It'll do for starters.
But I'm not good enough.
I'm not quite up to it.
What a shame.
It was a pity while it
remained a disappointment.
What is your disappointment in life?
Your major one, I mean,
if I may ask?
Too big a traffic area
through my bedroom.
Er, no, seriously, tell me.
What are you really
disappointed about?
- I mean, what...?
- How many fingers have you got?
- Sorry?
- Because I've lost count.
All right, I'll play along.
Like, um...
not being able to play
a musical instrument.
How'll that do?
- Which?
- Sorry?
- Which musical instrument?
- Comb and paper.
Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen.
The bar and buffet situated in
the middle of the train is now open.
Selling teas, coffees, drinks,
hot and cold snacks.
Bar and buffet is now open,
thank you.
Oh, I don't know.
Not getting more than
three O-Levels, I suppose.
I hadn't worked, though.
But I thought I was worth more.
Which?
- Sorry?
- Which three?
English Language,
English Literature,
and French.
Good, good. Language orientated.
- And the French was for...
- And you didn't want to go on with it?
School, A-Levels, college, all that?
No, I...
What are we talking about?
I'm not a social worker, you know.
- Where did you go to school?
- In England.
A school for girls, presumably.
Or perhaps I should say
"young ladies".
I'm not going to talk about school,
or anything else,
until I know I'm not
wasting my time.
Got it?
- Ah, a private school, I should imagine.
- I mean...
do you want
good old straight
up-and-down intercourse,
or, um...
do you have any specialities
in mind?
Do you want oral?
Or a good smacking?
That's one of the things
that's wrong with England.
What?
A question about schooldays
is seen as something very dangerous.
A weapon.
A hidden pointer to something else.
Well, maybe it is.
Go on, eat your crisp.
- What?
- Eat your crisp.
Thank you.
This is a staff announcement.
Would the duty banqueting manager
please contact Reception.
Do you normally speak like that?
I mean, as grossly as just now.
You reminded me of someone else.
Asking all that stuff about school,
and all that shit.
I mean, in your real life.
My real life?
Your private life.
When you're not out
on a job like this,
do you use gutter language
there, too?
What sort of hypocrite are you?
A mealy-mouthed one.
What are we talking about?
A life.
Is... is this...
is this some kind of a joke?
I know, I know,
I'm upsetting you.
I'm putting it all very badly.
But no, it's not a joke.
I want you, and...
Then you pay for me.
We all pay for each other.
And we all pay
for what we are.
All the time.
I don't know about that, Joe,
but you pay for me.
And you pay by the hour.
Is there something you want?
Sorry?
You seem more interested
in what is going on over here
than in your own affairs.
No, that's not it at all.
Would you please
be good enough
to drag your hot eyes away
from my young lady?
Hey now,
there's no call for that.
Your what?
Or do you want to come
and sit with us?
Your young lady?
Money, you want
to talk about money.
Fine. I don't think that's going
to be any special problem.
How much?
Look, you don't have to talk so...
This is our business, nobody else's.
Now, let's talk about exactly
how much you would like.
And what, precisely,
you are willing to do...
to get it.
Yuck!
Helen? Where are you?
I don't know.
- Helen, where are you?
- Kitchen!
Helen, answer me.
Where the hell are you?
I'm in the kitchen!
John?
What do you want?
Why are you shouting?
John?
It's what we are,
surely?
Not what we do.
- Isn't that right, Helen?
- John?
What are you...?
What's the matter?
Helen...
help me.
No!
John!
What's happening?
What's happened?
We all have to...
we all...
But John?
What's the...?
- Are you feeling ill, or has...?
- III.
You look as though
you've seen a ghost.
For goodness' sake,
what is all this?
A ghost?
They were wrong!
What do you mean, a ghost?
They were wrong!
John, for Christ's sake!
Weren't you taught that
it is rude to shout?
And offensive to blaspheme?
What?
Screw you!
And screw you, too.
A more general invitation.
And one that you
are certainly used to.
Hello.
- Hello?
- Do you want business?
I'm sorry,
do you know me?
Do I want what?
A fuck, or a suck?
Anything you fancy.
A what?!
Do I want a what?
Hey!
Changed your mind?
This is not right.
But I thought you
wanted it this way.
Come on.
Fuck me, darling!
This cannot be the
correct way to behave.
Oh, you're just a dickhead!
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
- John...
- What about it?
John, you flinched.
I, um, I...
You can't bear me to touch you.
You know the Stoners and Angela
are coming to dinner, don't you?
I suppose you've no objection
to touching Angela?
- What do you mean?
- You think I don't know.
Something did happen, didn't it?
Between you two.
I thought we'd always
tell each other the truth, John.
I thought we'd agreed to do that,
no matter what.
- What is truth?
- What?
- Pontius Pilate.
- Angela.
- What about her?
- The... bitch!
You don't think I, er...
It was... it...
Oh, you don't understand.
Oh, but I do.
What are you so...
paranoid about?
God Almighty!
Nothing has happened,
nothing whatsoever.
Something's certainly happened
between us, that's for sure.
Is that it, John?
Is that what all of this is about?
You can't bear me to touch you.
I live and breathe you.
And when you're not there,
I feel myself
being dragged
deeper and deeper and...
The smile's gone out
of your eyes, John.
The smile that was for me.
That lovely, gentle smile.
It's not there anymore.
I don't know what
you're talking about.
Steady. Steady now.
I don't know... I don't...
I can't... seem to...
Now, now, old chap.
Anything wrong here, gents?
Everything all right?
Ev... everything is...
everything is...
coming up roses.
Well, I hope it's nothing that's
been brought on by the food, sir.
- For God's sake!
- It's my job, sir.
Can't you see that
this man is not well?
I can see that very well, sir.
And it's my job to see
there's nothing amiss with...
what was it the gentleman had?
The fish, yes?
Fish?
Sole, sir.
And you'd have done better
with the steak.
I have lost my memory.
You've done what, sir?
I do not know who I am!
Would you like me to get you
something else, sir?
Like what! Like what?
The gentlemen seemed
to appreciate the steak.
I'm sorry about all the fuss.
It was a... well, it was a shock,
and I felt very upset.
But I understand
what is happening now.
In the circumstances,
it might be advisable
for me to have a hot drink.
Perhaps you'd be kind enough to
bring me, er... some coffee?
Certainly, sir.
And to take my...
fish away.
Oh, right away, sir.
So...
what are we going to do
about you, eh?
Hmm?
Oh, no.
Not just the little boys.
Christ, no. The little girls could be
unspeakably tough, too.
One little bitch threatened to
strangle me, honestly.
Genghis Khan in red hair ribbons
and navy blue knickers.
Good for her!
Violence is usually
the other way round.
Boys to girls.
And men to women.
The only thing a
seven-year-old boy
who didn't like
rough games could do
was to skulk off on my own.
with a secret friend.
You know, a made-up one.
Oh, I had one of those, Martin.
A secret friend. Oh, yes!
Imaginary chums are so much braver
and more interesting than real ones.
And imaginary mistresses.
So much more erotic, eh, Angela?
Mmm?
Imaginary, Martin?
My problem always used to be
how to find a space
where I could be on my own.
Damned if I was going to
make up pretend friends,
when I spent so much time
trying to get away from the real ones.
But you had brothers and sisters.
So?
I was an only child, Kate.
And there were no
children next door, either.
John?
I thought at first
it was the cat.
Er... what was?
We had a cat called Toby.
The colour of ashes in the grate
after a fire had been kept in all night.
Um... what exactly
are we talking about?
There weren't so many
new buildings around this house
when it used to be the vicarage.
I was marooned here
as a boy.
Scruffy little village.
The church, not much else.
When I was a boy...
in the winter-time...
My God!
A cold, old house this.
I used to see the lighted trains
go by in the distance.
They looked like ribbons.
Illuminated.
Glowing,
with all the mystery
and yearning of...
travel.
And this was the
sort of place
you would very much
want to get away from.
Oh, those trains.
Those ribbons of light.
That ache...
of promise.
Those men with the little notebooks
at the end of the platform,
taking down
train numbers.
They're so weird and earnest.
You feel they're doing that
because they've never
taken down anything else.
I used to talk to the cat.
He knew what I was saying.
And what I was thinking.
Or so I thought.
But it gradually dawned on me
that that was not the case.
Congratulations.
Ssssh!
The cat walked out of
the room once too often,
with his tail in the air,
showing the little round button
of his arse.
I had to find another friend.
A more reliable one.
Oh, back to that, are we?
The secret friend.
We never left it.
He came to me
out of nothing, and out of nowhere.
Walking across the flat fields,
and over the thorny hedges.
It's a wonder he ever found me.
Oh, please don't come up, Father.
Don't come up.
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy..."
Are you there? Hey?
"Hallowed be thy name.
"Thy kingdom come,
"thy will be..."
Where are you? Hey?
Where have you gone?
"Thy will be done,
on Earth as it is in heaven.
"Give us this day
our daily bread.
- "And lead us not into tempt..."
- Don't worry, John.
Don't worry.
I'm with you.
I thought you'd gone, John.
What, me?
Not on your nelly.
He's going to give me
the strap.
Why don't you tell him to
shove it up his...
arse?
Ssssh.
"Give us this day
our daily bread,
"and lead us not into temptation.
- "Forgive us our trespasses..."
- Listen to this!
What?
How about this, John?
Listen to this one.
Oh, John, John!
Oh John, you are naughty.
He came everywhere with me.
I couldn't have
shaken him off even...
even if I'd wanted to.
John...?
What are you doing over there?
I tried it once, just to see
what would happen.
I ran...
I ran...
as fast as I could.
And...
when I had to stop...
out of breath...
he was there, too.
What?
Oh.
Yes.
Sorry.
Okay.
Okay, I'm talking like...
Well, you're giving me
a headache.
Mmm, this aniseedy sort of...
fennel.
You know, I've been eating it, Helen,
and not knowing what it was.
You are clever.
Accident, not design.
He ran where I ran.
He walked where I walked.
He sat next to me at table.
And he...
he put the same...
food...
in his mouth...
and he...
swallowed it down...
at the same time as I did.
This make-believe chum of yours.
Did he have a name, John?
Look in your wallet.
- Turn out your pockets.
- Examine your things.
Oh, yes, yes. Of course.
Thank you very much.
Pig.
What?!
Pigskin.
Well... it's not cheap stuff.
Isn't that reassuring?
- You'd better look inside.
- Yes, yes, look.
Leave me alone.
Skin.
Unrolled from the back
of a slaughtered pig.
Of what account are
its helpless screams?
Well, open it up, then.
Phew!
You're not short of
a penny or two, are you?
What'd you do, rob a bank?
Perhaps.
I've no idea what I've done.
Credit cards.
Look for credit cards.
They'll have your name on.
Driving licence, membership card,
anything like that.
No, no, no, credit cards.
Look, they'll have your name on.
What can I do?
Where can I go?
Where can I stay?
I don't even know
what day of the week it is.
- Thursday.
- What?
It's a Thursday... I think.
Find library, reference, look it up.
"Amnesia."
Safer than going to
some quack or walking into a...
Police! No!
Expose myself!
Money. All this money.
It's a lot to be carrying around.
Especially nowadays.
You'll have to keep both eyes open.
No driving licence?
Not even a credit card?
Just...
money.
Solitary.
Solitary.
Let me be solitary.
Can you really remember nothing?
Nothing at all?
Get hold of any
one recollection, and...
follow the thread of it.
Let me see.
You were already on the train
when we got on.
- Sitting here.
- That was Swindon.
So you must have
travelled from, er...
Bristol Parkway, Newport,
Cardiff, or...
one of those other
places in Wales.
You don't sound Welsh,
if I may say so.
Bet that's a relief, eh?
What does your ticket say?
Oh no, they've been collected.
You haven't got a ticket.
If you'd have had a return,
you'd have known where
you'd started from.
Unless he came from London,
and he's going back.
London?
That's where the train's going.
London!
You don't seem to
have any keys on you.
Do you have any keys?
I said... excuse me,
I said, do you have any keys?
816, 816, 816...
John?
Oh, Martin.
Hello.
Oh, I'm very used to
beautiful young ladies
sounding devastated when
they hear my voice.
I wondered if I could have a word
with the master of the house?
I'm rocketing homeward
on the bloody train,
but I presume he's still bent over
his bloody daubs?
- Doesn't want to be disturbed, eh?
- You can't, Martin.
He's gone to London.
He's...
I... I can't tell you
exactly where he is.
I mean...
he's obviously decided
to stay over for a...
- He's seeing a publisher.
- What's wrong, Helen?
You sound down in the dumps.
Lovely ladies should
never be sad, tra-la.
I've got some news that might cheer up
your miserable sod of a hubby.
At least, it's about
the house.
The house?
- What house?
- Well, the market's flat.
In fact, it's on the down escalator.
But I told him I wouldn't have to
look very far down the Edgware Road
to find a camel herder
with cash in hand.
And, clever old me,
I think I've already come up with...
- This house?
- What?
Yes, your house.
What are you talking about?
What do you mean,
what am I talking about?
John said he wanted to...
to, um...
That you were moving away...
I'm sorry, Helen, have I...?
Moving away.
Helen...
- Did you hang...
- Yes, I did!
Screw you!
I might even do that.
Ah, the country diary of
an Edwardian lady.
Lie on your back and
think of weed killer?
Hello, Angela.
Oh dear, what's the matter?
Nothing, really.
When people say "nothing, really"
haven't you noticed, they
usually mean "yes, something"?
Is it John?
Something did happen, didn't it?
Between you two.
No credit cards, no keys,
no luggage.
No head on my shoulders.
These things
are sent to try us, aren't they?
Yes.
But why me?
So, how many nights, sir?
- Well, since my wife is not at, er...
- How many nights?
- My wife is...
- How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
Nights?
How...
many...
How many...
nights?
How many... nights?
How... many... nights?
How many nights?
Um...
just tonight.
Or...
I'm afraid I'm going to
have to ask you
for a hundred and eighty pounds
in advance.
Yes, of course you must.
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
How many nights?
Nights...?
How... many...
Don't... panic...
Don't... don't... don't...
don't panic.
Don't panic, don't panic.
Don't... don't.
Don't panic.
Don't... don't...
Don't...
Do you mean
there's someone else?
You tell me.
No, no, I'm not saying it's funny.
It's just...
it's just that question.
- What question?
- Well, I mean,
it's the one they always
used to say in the serials.
The soaps, you know.
"Do you mean there's someone else?"
It's the way it comes out.
- Know what I mean?
- Yes, absolutely.
I like drinking.
At this sort of time.
Oh, there's some cheese
if you'd like.
No, no, booze is better.
In some ways it would be
better if there were.
- Sorry?
- Somebody else.
You don't mean that.
But I honestly don't think
he's capable of it.
- First man in history.
- Oh...
John was always
a bit of a...
puritan.
No wonder.
Living in this weird old house
with a slap-the-pulpit father,
and a timid mother
with a cleft palate.
- Really?
- Oh, I thought you knew.
John's talked to you a lot.
Hasn't he?
Well, yes, but, um...
When you say
he's a "puritan", John...
Do you mean that, um...
Well, he... he sort of...
- sort of...
- Doesn't like it all that much.
Lots of men don't, you know.
They like the idea of it,
the little piggies,
but their ideas are
too big for their...
Fantasies?
Well, yes, if you
want to put it that way.
Fantasies?
They can be very powerful, and...
unsettling.
How do you mean?
Well...
Come on.
Between us?
Between us.
I...
No.
I'm not drunk enough.
I suppose you noticed at dinner here,
the other week, Martin Stoner.
And you?
The bloody fool!
Kate's bound to have picked it up,
the way he was simpering at me
across the table.
Well, it was a bit obvious.
Now, there's your
classic fantasist, Martin is.
Oh, these older men.
Wants to screw in the back of a car,
because he never did it
like that as a teenager.
And never mind my head
bumping against the bloody door.
Why do you do it?
Boredom, darling.
Oh...
Come on, my girl.
What ails thee?
Index number 816.
Ah!
I see.
I see.
Well, that's not so.
I mean, it's only in the head,
isn't it?
I don't mean to laugh, but...
but, well, when you think about it,
I mean...
sex is funny, isn't it?
A bloody hoot!
It's as though he's
convinced himself that I really was...
really, really was what he's
made me pretend to be.
Do it!
Do it!
Do it!
Sometimes, it gets so bad,
I sort of half think he's right.
I mean, I catch myself thinking
the same way as he thinks,
and persuading myself that I'm...
like that.
- Bloody hell.
- I have to tap, tap, tap the door.
Our own bedroom door.
All drenched in perfume,
and dressed like a...
Tap, tap on the door.
And say...
"Hello!"
Like that.
- "Hello"?
- Like that.
"Whatever else you may
care to give me
"is a personal transaction
between you and me."
Christ!
What are you looking at me
like that for?
I don't suppose he made you
pretend to be a whore, did he?
- What?
- Because you already are one!
Sit still, John.
Sit still!
Oh, oh, I see,
it's a wild flower.
Oh, such a pretty bloom.
And what do we do with
a pretty flower, my boy?
We pluck it!
Who is she?
Who?
Who?
Who?
Who, who is she?
Who?
Filth.
Everywhere.
Filth!
Filth.
A fuck or a suck?
Anything you fancy.
Do you want business?
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...
and so is she.
The bitch, the rotten bitch
is gone, gone, gone...
Do you want business?
I'm sorry if I, er...
I mean, er... I didn't mean to
spy on you or anything like that.
It's, um... a kind of a yoga.
Um... what do you call it?
A mantra.
Oh yes, of course, er...
- Help you think, isn't that it?
- Lose yourself.
In a way.
I was hoping John
would be back by now.
No.
He isn't.
- Helen, when I telephoned just a...
- No.
He isn't.
Helen, there's something wrong,
isn't there?
I don't want to poke my nose in,
but, er...
Helen, you didn't seem to know
that John has asked me
to put this house on the market.
No.
I didn't.
I wouldn't have dreamed
of saying anything about it.
John is bound to talk it over
with you, and...
He's not coming back.
He's gone.
He's left me.
Left you?
I can't believe it.
It's me.
It's my fault.
He despises me.
I was too much for him in the end.
The dirt just choked in his throat.
It was too...
much.
- What was?
- Yesterday was.
My past was.
What I...
used to be.
And I...
was very...
very...
good at it.
Big soft bed.
Long hard fuck.
Christ, it's, er...
Helen.
It's not fair on a fellow, you know,
to sit, er...
the way you're sitting.
The past is one thing
you can do nothing about.
I'm sick of trying to
push it away from me.
I'm sick of pretending.
I don't know what you're...
You poor thing.
You wouldn't say that
if you knew the truth.
I've brought it all on myself.
It's my own fault.
I haven't always been Helen.
I called myself something else.
I did things you'd never even dream.
Listen to me!
Oh, you lucky devil!
You dirty devil!
I am. You dirty bitch!
Say you are! Say you are!
I'm a dirty bitch!
I'm a whore!
Don't stop.
Don't stop, don't slow down.
Don't stop!
Filth!
She's a whore!
Kill her!
Who?
Where?
What?!
Don't worry about it.
Trust me.
Go and lie down.
Don't be silly.
Go on.
There's something you have to do.
Remember?
Something I have to do.
Something I have to do.
Something!
So far as I can recall,
there are more than...
two thousand different
kinds of wild flower,
which might properly be considered
as native to this country.
Ha ha! And we've only done
five per cent of them.
But then a hundred of these
are enough for a publisher.
They're all dickheads anyway.
Let's see what
they make of it, anyway.
Lady's Mantle.
Woodlands Flush.
Deadly Nightshade, eh?
All in here.
All safe.
Be good.
And if you can't be good, well...
be yourself.
No.
No.
It can not be!
It cannot...
cannot...
can not be!
Best thing you could do
would be to talk to the police.
Go to a police station
as soon as we arrive.
Police?
No.
Stay clear.
No police.
They're supposed
to be the professionals, after all.
They must have some idea
what to do.
If you report yourself as a...
missing person.
Did he have a name, John?
And imaginary mistresses?
So much more erotic, eh?
- John?
- No!
No, no!
No!
Fornicators!
Come on.
Come on, then. Go to her.
Eh?
Carry on screwing, eh?
Eh? In privacy.
Privacy.
Dirty beasts.
Dirty Martin.
Dirty Angela.
Dirty, dirty Angela.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
What?
What's wrong with the fish?
- What? What?
- I...
I didn't say a thing. Not a word.
What did you say, Jimmy?
No, it wasn't the fish.
- Scalp yer!
- No, please, please.
Fish is good for
your brains, you twat.
I'll scalp yer! Shagging scalp yer!
Nurse, help! Nurse!
This is a personal transaction
between you and me.
Help!
Nurse!
Help!
God!
This is a psychiatric ward.
They're mad in here.
They're all out of their minds.
But I'm not, am I?
Yes, you are.
But I'm not.
No.
No, you never were.
Why can't I be like you?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Where?
Please!
Where have you gone?
- They were wrong!
- Please!
They were wrong!
- Where? Please!
- They were wrong!
Where are you?
Mmm... what is "mmm"?
Are you a bumble bee?
Please! Please!
You want my body?
You want business?
Where are you?
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
It's all right.
It's all right.
- Please, please, where are you?
- I'm here.
Trust me, trust me.
- Please! Please!
- I'll kill the little bitch!
Christ...
Can hardly breathe.
John!
I have this nightmare,
this continual nightmare.
Angela?
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I...
Yes.
Once. I did it once.
Once, Helen.
It's...
It chokes me.
The guilt.
It makes me turn
into someone else.
It makes me turn
you into a...
That's why I can't.
I dream of killing her.
I dream of making
you kill her.
I dream of the gutter.
I dream of...
Yes, I...
even dream of killing Martin.
Why Martin?
Because he's having her.
So you still want her?
No.
Oh, Helen. Helen...
I'm just...
tired.
I'm very, very...
tired.
Put the light out.
I'm not going to pretend anymore.
John.
Do you understand?
No more.
You should do something
about that cough.
Honey and lemon.
Honey...
and lemon?
- John, it's not possible.
- You be the honey, and I'll be the...
John, we've made each other sick.
It's not possible to live out
a fantasy. It's dangerous.
It's too dangerous.
Honey and lemon.
Not too much lemon.
Trust me.
Can I?
Yes.
You can.
Honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon, honey and lemon,
honey and lemon.
Honey and lemon,
honey and lemon.
I find the things you do
When I'm thinking of you
I'm just so irresistible
I'm afflicted and addicted
By the things you do
When I'm dreaming of you
You're just so unpredictable
I'm afflicted and addicted
By the things you do
I've started to talk about it all.
I have started the journey.
I won't get off until I'm...
better.
I find the things you do
I find the things you do
When I'm dreaming of you
When I close my eyes
I get butterflies
And it seems to me
That time suspends
My troubles end
Because we're just secret friends