All language subtitles for 1 Part Ia

Skylight - Act One

Subtitles: aeneas
Sync, correction and edit: @ColtXabi14

The door was open...

My goodness.

Just hold on a minute, I’d started running a bath.

It’s my fault.

I shouldn’t have called in like this.

I’ve grown.

Yeah, I know.

Everyone says that.

How tall are you?

Well, will you give me a kiss?

I brought these.

What’s this?

Some beer.

It’s a present.

Thanks.

And some rap records.

I don’t know how much you know about this stuff.

Nothing.

I just spent £30 in that shop round the corner.

That’s why I’m here.

It’s next to the Nepalese restaurant.

There’s this great specialist rap shop.

All my friends go there.

Then I realised you must live round here.

That’s right.

I do.

I had the spare time.

I’m in my gap year.

If you know what I mean.

Yes, of course.

Out of school, not yet at university.

I’m doing what everyone does.

You have a job?

Yeah.

I’m selling frankfurters outside football grounds.

If you come close you can smell them.

It’s all right, thanks, I’ll stay over here.

It’s freezing.

It is.

Close the door.

You gave me quite a shock standing there.

I’m feeling embarrassed.

Why?

I’ve never done this.

Hold on a minute, I’ve got a small fire in here.

It’s a very nice place.

My God!

You are growing up.

When did you start saying dumb things like that?

When I knew you, Edward, you always spoke your mind.

You came to the point.

Ah.

OK.

The point is my father.

I’ve plugged it in.

I think you’ll find it makes very little difference.

The last few weeks it’s been so damp I find you barely see it.

Here, we even have indoor fog.

You sit on that side of the room and peer, thinking, I’m sure it’s on, I’m sure the fire is on.

But you can’t actually see.

Do you want tea?

No, thank you.

So why not tell me what you came here to say?

I’m not sure what you know.

Did you know my mother had died?

I knew she had cancer.

How long ago?

It’s about a year now.

A year?

Dad hasn’t told you?

I haven’t seen him.

That’s why I came here today.

I wasn’t passing by...

No.

I don’t suppose anyone does.

Pass by this area, I mean.

Unless, I suppose, they’re desperate to get from Willesden to South Finchley.

Which I can’t imagine most people are.

Did you...

I mean, you lost your parents...

I did.

My father recently.

My mother, you know, died when I was three.

Once they’re dead, I find they keep changing.

You think you’ve got hold of them.

And it’s like you say, ‘Oh I see.

So that’s what she was like.’

But then they change again in your memory.

It drives you crazy.

Now I’d like to find out just who she was.

Alice?

Yes.

It’s also...

you see...

I don’t know...

it’s had an effect on my father.

Well, surely.

I mean if you see him...

I’d love it.

I mean, if you did.

Why?

Because he’s changed.

And?

Now I’m really embarrassed.

I’m guessing.

I think you can help him.

Help Tom?

Tom needs help?

Well, at least that’s what I think.

The tea actually...

I would like the tea now.

I’d like some tea to help get me through.

How am I doing?

Am I doing all right?

You’re doing fine.

You don’t think I’m being obnoxious?

I mean, it’s none of my business.

If you want you can send me away.

You can say anything you like.

It’s not going to bother me.

I don’t really know the whole history.

I mean, between Dad and you.

Ah.

So is that why you’re here?

No, I mean, yes, well, partly.

But also Dad’s got very peculiar.

I am here for his sake as well.

It can get pretty strange, I promise you.

Silence at dinner, that kind of thing.

We moved to Wimbledon.

My God!

I know.

Well, that doesn’t help.

The sense of all that sort of nature, trees and flowers, sort of flapping around.

He did it for Mum, to give her some peace at the end.

But now it just seems pointless and spooky.

Me, I get on a bus and head for the street.

I keep saying, Dad, you’re not dead, you’re thriving.

It’s too early for lupins.

Jesus!

What I liked about Dad, he was sort of ageless.

I think that’s why he was such a success.

All ages, all types.

He knew how to reach them.

But now he’s in this kind of hideous green fortress.

Does he talk to you?

About what he feels?

You know Dad.

He’s not what you might call ‘emotionally available’.

But also...

let’s face it...

well, I can be quite a shit.

Have you read Freud?

Some.

I read some recently.

I told Dad everything had to come out.

That you pay a price.

Is that true?

I don’t know.

For everything you repress there’s a price to be paid.

You told him that?

Yes.

And how did he take it?

It was the night before last.

It was Sunday.

We had the mother of all arguments.

We had the most terrible row.

I suppose I left home.

You did?

Where did you go?

Do you have a girlfriend?

Sort of.

There’s a girl who’s willing to take me in.

She does the frankfurters with me.

So.

I don’t know.

I’m only eighteen.

I don’t like the word ‘girlfriend’.

All that stuff’s finished.

Relationships.

Permanence.

It’s out of date, I think.

I stayed there last night.

I’ll stay there tonight.

Yes, but have you rung your father?

She’s the only girl who’ll sleep with me.

Because at least we both smell the same.

Dad is a fuckpig. I mean it.

I don’t think you see it.

I talked to some people at work.

He commands respect, yes, of course.

People who have all that confidence do.

But you scratch the surface, you talk to his employees, you find respect can be much more like fear.

There’s one woman, you know, I happened to talk to her, it was by chance, she’s pretty high up, she’s worked close to Dad for some time.

She knows him well.

And she said he is definitely sexist.

No!

She said without question.

Thank God she spotted it.

Oh, so, OK, what are you saying?

You think it’s me, it’s just me being stupid...

No...

Father–son.

That sort of thing.

There’s a whole list of things I could tell you.

Dad can be a real bastard, you know.

The charm’s that deep.

Are you keeping an inventory?

All right, but you don’t have to live with it, you don’t have to deal with anyone at all...

I do.

There’s always this doom.

This heaviness.

He comes home every night.

Wham!

He lands on the sofa.

You feel the springs go.

One night he actually destroyed a whole sofa.

He cracked a sofa he landed so hard!

Then –

Guess his response?

Guess his response to it!

Next day he just bought a new sofa!

A new sofa!

Well, that seems fair enough.

No, you’re wrong.

It’s an attitude, Kyra.

It’s all – Yellow Pages.

Whatever.

Leaves on the roof?

Yellow Pages!

The lavatory’s blocked?

Yellow Pages!

That’s how he lives.

He even orders in meals.

It’s absurd!

He flicks through.

Pizza!

Chinese!

It’s Citizen Kane!

Only with Yellow Pages.

I said to him, Dad, for God’s sake get real.

Not everything in life is in Yellow Pages.

Isn’t it grief?

Yes, of course.

He’s grieving.

He’s sitting there alone in this bloody great house.

Like some stupid animal.

Licking his pain.

Mum...

of course, I mean, everyone said to me...

Alice wasn’t as clever as him.

People assumed she was some sort of dumb ex-model.

But she kept Dad moving.

Now he just sits there.

I say, for Christ’s sake, it’s been almost a year.

We knew it was coming.

It’s been a long time.

Let it out, for fuck’s sake.

Because, I tell you, otherwise...

it’s driving us both bloody mad.

Is it just the two of you?

Yes. We’re like a married couple.

My sister’s gone.

She’s at university.

That’s what I’m saying.

We’re both off.

We’re finished.

Almost.

Next year, I mean.

They make you draw up this list, you know this?

This absurd piece of paper...

Of course...

Every student goes round: ‘Look I’ve got my CV!

…’

I think I’ll study CV when I get there.

As my special subject.

Why not?

We never do anything because we might actually enjoy it.

We do it so we can write it all down.

You think, ‘This is stupid!

Doing things just so they’ll look good on paper.’

But then, I don’t know, just tell me, what choice do I have?

You?

You have none.

What do your kids do?

Mine?

Oh well, they’re different.

You’re teaching in East Ham?

Uh-huh.

How is that?

East Ham?

Well, it has its drawbacks.

I wouldn’t say the kids are all great.

But at least they’re not on the ladder.

So perhaps that means...

they do things for their own sake.

Yeah.

You don’t need a CV to get a UB40.

No, well, exactly, I mean exactly.

As you say, it’s different.

It is.

The fact is...

when I think about that kind of life...

just ordinary kids...

I know it sounds stupid, but I feel sort of envious.

Do you?

I suppose you think I’m just spoilt.

No.

I’m not saying...

God knows...

that my life is too easy, nobody could live alone with my bastard of a father and say that my life is easy at all...

But I do look at the street, and think, shit!

Shit!

And here I am heading in the opposite direction.

I mean, I think in a way you’re so lucky, living like this …

Well, thank you.

I’m not being rude.

I mean it.

In this kind of place.

Dad said...

What?

What did Dad say?

I suppose he hinted...

he was implying...

in a way he was saying that you made a choice.

Look, whenever I mention it, he always says it’s none of my business.

He gets really angry.

He says very little.

I mean, I’ve been trying to get him to talk about you.

Shit, that’s what I mean, for fuck’s sake.

After all, it’s my life as well.

We saw you for years.

Well, didn’t we?

Yes.

Yes, you did.

Until just a few years ago.

They were great times.

Then you vanished.

Why?

Think.

Just think.

It’s probably the first thing you think of.

And that’s the reason.

And now are you saying I’ve no right to ask?

No.

My mother died.

She actually died.

Not you.

You did something else.

You cut yourself off from us without saying anything.

And in a way I’m coming to think that’s much worse.

Because you just left and said nothing.

Alice had no choice.

It wasn’t her fault.

But for you it’s different.

Because it’s not necessary.

Because yours is deliberate.

And that makes it sort of more hurtful.

I’m being hurt by someone for reasons they refuse to explain to me.

And I’m left thinking...

hang on, life is too short.

You know what it is?

The thing that puzzles me, the thing I can’t understand?

It’s odd, but it’s true.

Mum and Dad were much closer...

they were always closer when you were there.

That’s often true.

Of a couple.

They need a catalyst.

A third person there, it helps them to talk.

Is that all it was?

Edward, come on, stop pushing me.

This is a fight with your father.

If you want to quarrel, then quarrel with him.

I’m glad you called round.

I’m proud of you, Edward.

You’re a good boy.

But you do seem to want to be judge and jury in some family court of your own making.

And that’s not the most attractive impulse to have.

I’m sorry.

If you like judging, please: be a lawyer.

Run a dog show.

There’s a whole lot of jobs if judging is your passion in life.

But take my advice: if you want to be happy, keep your judging professional.

And don’t start putting in practice at home.

And now I’m afraid, I’ve a whole lot of homework …

No, no, you’re right.

I’ve been really stupid.

No.

Not at all.

I was wondering...

What?

At least...

I’ve been wondering: what do you miss?

You mean, from your father’s world?

Yes.

I miss a good breakfast.

Toast wrapped in napkins.

Croissants.

And really hot coffee from a silver pot.

Scrambled eggs.

I never have those.

And I do miss them more than I’d have thought possible.

Nothing else?

You miss my father.

And so saying, I think I shall go.

Edward, I enjoyed seeing you.

Really.

I mean it.

Right.

Then I’m off.

You’ve got all your stuff?

Yes.

Yes, thank you.

I expect I’ll see you again.

Yes, well, I hope so.

You didn’t mind?

Edward, I’ve said so.

Kyra, I wish you would bloody well help.

Shit!

Who is it?

I'm coming!

Jesus Christ!

Ugh. Go away.

Hold on a minute and I’ll throw down a key.

I wanted to say I'm not guilty.

Not guilty?

What do you mean?

You arrived like a fucking stormtrooper.

Thank you.

Have you parked your tanks in the street?

I was only ringing the bell.

You always were excessively manly.

I brought you some whisky.

Thanks.

Put it down over there.

OK.

Beside the beer.

Did somebody tell you?

That if you called I’d be in?

No, I was just guessing.

Oh really?

Just passing?

I wouldn’t say that.

I mean, does anyone...

Pass through this area?

No. You’ve got a good point there.

You mean this visit’s deliberate?

Yes.

Sort of.

So.

Will you take off your coat?

I won’t.

Just at this moment.

Perhaps it’s me.

But it seems a bit parky.

It is.

Well...

I thought it was time.

That’s what I’m doing here.

Time you and I saw each other again.

Oh, I see you’re making your supper.

I’m sorry.

Perhaps I should have phoned.

I think I was scared you might hang up on me.

I mean, I’ve had no idea.

I mean, what you’ve been thinking.

I suppose I thought perhaps you hated me.

Yes.

If you’d rung, then you’d have found out.

It’s not been easy.

One way and another.

It’s been a hard time for me.

I heard about Alice.

Did you?

How?

I just heard.

Yes.

She died a year ago.

It seems much longer.

I mean, in a way it was fine.

I’d already ‘discounted’ it.

It’s a term we use in business.

Meaning...

I know what it means.

You’ve already prepared yourself.

So when it happens it isn’t so awful.

That’s right.

Yes.

You’re shocked?

Not at all.

Should I be?

No.

Well, that’s how it was.

And also Alice was so incredible.

I can hardly tell you.

I mean, she was so brave.

Propped up in bed, wearing yellow.

She spent the day watching birds, through this large square of light above her.

The skylight over her bed.

She was truly... truly fantastic.

Whisky?

Yes.

Kyra, I must say you always surprise me.

I’d never have thought you’d have taken up rap.

Oh.

No, well, I haven’t.

In fact only recently.

You know that Edward’s into this stuff?

Oh really?

Who are your favourites?

Oh.

You know.

It varies.

I suppose you picked it up from your kids.

Sure.

You’re still at that same place?

Yeah.

How is it?

At the moment?

It’s doing fine.

I mean, we had a not-bad head teacher, truly she really wasn’t too bad, but then – it always happens – things started wearing her down.

People started stealing her car.

It was sort of a challenge or something.

We think it must have been some of the kids.

Then they broke into her flat.

She lost her stereo.

Also they got hold of her cat.

She came back one night.

The cat had been baked in the oven.

She began to feel it was time to move on.

She got a better job, you know, down in Dulwich.

Dulwich is nicer.

Yes, I think she probably felt that as well.

And what about you?

Me?

Don’t you get tired of it?

I talk to the police occasionally.

They say it’s a problem.

Assaults on the police are growing all the time.

Then they say, on the other hand, there’s one thing they can’t help noticing.

It’s the same coppers who get beaten up time and again.

So what does that mean?

Some people are victims.

I walk in perfect peace to and from school.

I’m not a mark, that’s the difference.

And what do you put that down to?

I wish you’d take off your fucking coat.

Well, I would.

Of course.

If you’d get central heating.

Then of course I’d take off my coat.

But since you’ve made a style choice to live in Outer Siberia, I think for the moment I’ll keep my coat on.

If you want central heating, look, it’s no problem.

I’ve got this really good bloke.

From Yellow Pages?

I’m sorry?

Nothing.

If you like, he’d come round.

It wouldn’t take long.

This bloke does all of my restaurants.

I’m pretty sure I can spare him next week.

Unless of course you say, no thank you.

I mean, no doubt you’d prefer to be cold.

No, I’d prefer to be warm.

Well then.

Warm, but not beholden.

If it’s all right, I’m going to cook.

Oh really?

I was going to ask if you’d like proper dinner.

Meaning mine isn’t proper?

Spaghetti!

Oh Lord, so touchy!

No, I meant, would you like to go out?

I’m just asking if you’d like to go out.

What for?

An evening.

Tom, don’t you think I’ve got enough memories?

Why should I want any more?

So tell me, how is the business?

Business?

Business has generally recovered.

Yes, I’d even say it was thriving.

Of course I’m not my own boss any more.

In theory.

Like everyone, I now have a chairman.

The chairman of course has a bloody great board.

That’s the price I paid for going public.

I report to this sort of management guru.

My God!

I know, but, like all really top-class management gurus, he only comes in for four hours a week.

He wanders in.

Makes a few gnomic statements.

Mutters the words ‘core competence’.

Or whatever trendy management mantra happens to be in fashion this week.

Then he wanders out.

For that the banks just love him.

They adore him.

Why?

Because he once was a banker himself.

So for this insider’s sinecure he is paid more or less twice what I am paid as full-time chief executive.

The person who created the company.

The person who knows the business of hotels and restaurants.

But that is the way that things are now done...

What’s he like?

He’s one of those people who’s been told he’s good with people.

That means he smiles all the time and is terribly interested.

He keeps saying, ‘No, tell me, what do you think?’

In other words...

Yes, he’s completely insufferable.

It was how I was always told you could get women into bed.

By doing something called ‘listening to their problems’.

It’s a contemptible tactic.

You wouldn’t do it?

No.

Of course not.

You know me, Kyra.

I wouldn’t stoop to it.

Either they want you or else they don’t.

Listening’s halfway to begging.

But this bloke... he does it all the time in the business.

‘How interesting. Really? Is that what you think?’
Then he does what he’d planned in the first place.

It’s called consultation.

Buttering you up and then ignoring you.

I can imagine.

Oh yes, that’s how things go nowadays...

Is there no way you can get rid of him?

No.

It’s the price I paid for floating the company.

It made me millions, I can hardly complain.

I offered you shares, remember?

I never knew why you refused.

When we went public they jumped thirty-fold.

You could have had the house in the West Indies.

Like me.

Oh, really?

Well, maybe not quite.

But at least you could have moved up in the world.

Banks and lawyers!

That’s all I see.

So perhaps you did well.

Perhaps it wasn’t so stupid.

Coming here.

It wasn’t stupid.

No.

Me, I’m with shits and shafters all day.

I went in to one guy, the other day, I said to this fellow ? he’s lending me money at eleven per cent ? I said: ‘You want it?

Well you can have it.

You want the shirt off my back?

I will hand you my shirt.

Here it is!

And still, as God is my witness, you will not stop me, you will not stop me from trying to build a business out there.’

I said, ‘I’m an entrepreneur, I’m a doer.

I actually go out, I make things happen.

I give people jobs which did not previously exist.

And you...

you sit here with your little piles of money.

Doing fuck all.’

How did he take it?

Oh, no problem!

The odd thing was, he agreed.

He said, ‘Yes of course, you’re right, that’s right.

It’s true.

You take the risks and I never do.

I hate risk!’ he said.

‘But also,’ he said, ‘has it occurred to you that this may be the reason finally why it’s you who always has to come grovelling to me?’

He didn’t say ‘grovelling’?

Kyra, there’s nothing more irritating...

All right, I’m sorry...

No, Alice...

Alice would do this.

I would say, I’m telling a story.

For God’s sake I’m telling a story.

If I say it, it’s true.

I know.

‘Oh, I don’t believe it,’ Alice would say...

I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t what happened.

I wouldn’t say it!

I know.

That’s what he said to me!

He used the word ‘grovelling’?

Those exact words!

‘And that is why you come grovelling to me …’

Well I must say...

who was he?

Some fucking graduate in business studies.

Twenty-five.

Thirty.

Knows nothing.

The Rolex!

The fucking lemon-yellow Gaultier tie!

Goodness, the banks have got trendy.

They’re beyond trendy.

The banks are running the world.

You think – oh fuck!

– you think, I’ll run a business, I’ll build a business.

You remember, Kyra, we started out, my God it was great!

Actually counting the money, you counted it with me...

Of course.

Actually handling the money each morning, after you’d joined us, totting it up each Saturday night...

I remember.

Then – oh Christ!

– there’s this fatal moment.

Expansion!

And then you borrow.

And then you’re no longer in business, you’re no longer in what I’d call business, because it’s nothing to do with the customer.

It’s you and the bank.

And it’s war!

There was a moment, I tell you, in the middle eighties...

Oh yeah...

Yeah, just for a moment, I tell you, there was a time.

I think, through that little window – what was it?

Four years?

Five years?

Just through that little opening in history you could feel the current.

For once you could feel the current running your way.

You walked into a bank, you went in there, you had an idea.

In.

Money.

Thank you.

Out.

Bang!

They gave you the money!

As if for a moment we all had a vision, it was a kind of a heavenly vision, the idea of how damn fast and fun it could be...

And then of course everything slipped back to normal.

The old ‘Are you sure that’s what you really want to do?’ The ‘Wouldn’t it be easier if we all did nothing at all?’ They always have new ways of punishing initiative.

Whatever you do, they think up new ways.

You know, you read all this stuff in the papers – this stuff about banks – you read it, you know what I mean …

No, I’m afraid I’ve stopped reading the papers.

What are you saying?

Not altogether?

It’s funny, I remember my father.

Dad used to say, ‘I don’t watch the news.

I don’t approve of it.’

I used to say, ‘Dad, it’s the news.

It’s the news, for God’s sake.

How can you not approve of it?’ But I must say, now...

perhaps I’m my father’s daughter...

I tend to think that he had a point.

I don’t have a television either.

But that is just crazy.

You’re...

What?

Well, you’re missing what’s happening.

You’re missing reality.

Oh, do you think?

I just noticed the papers were full of...

sort of unlikeable people.

People I couldn’t relate to.

People who weren’t like the decent people, the regular people I meet every day at the school.

So I thought, I start reading this stuff and half an hour later, I wind up angry.

So perhaps it’s better I give it up.

So what do you read?

On the bus I read classic novels.

Computer manuals.

It’s like that game.

Name a politician you actually admire.

So what is the point of sitting there raging at all the insanity?

That’s not the point.

It’s the same with new films.

I just won’t go to them.

Old films I like.

Ah.

Those you like because they’re romantic.

You can hardly deny it.

They have something we don’t.

And Edward?

What?

How is Edward?

Edward.

Edward, your son?

Oh, bloody Edward, that’s who you mean.

He’s fine.

I mean, he’s living.

He’s alive.

I mean, he gives the external signs.

He eats.

He tries to spend all my money.

What can you say except he’s eighteen?

I saw that old film.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

You know, where they look the same.

They look like humans, but it turns out they’re creatures from Mars.

They’re pods.

Well, another way of putting it, they’re male adolescents.

It’s like they get taken over.

Someone comes and surgically removes all the good qualities they have, and turns them into selfish hoodlums...

I don’t really think it’s that bad.

I mean, you spend all this money on education.

A generation builds something up.

And the children learn nothing but how to stand back from it...

Tom, that is nonsense.

And all they want is to knock everything down-

He called me a brainless animal.

No! Really?

That’s unspeakable.

That’s what he called me.

Buying and selling.

That’s what he said.

Without ever questioning.

He called me a zombie...

No!

Just doing business without asking why...

I said, perhaps it’s true, perhaps I’m not brilliantly contemplative, perhaps I do not stop like some Oxford smartarse philosopher to ask myself the purpose of it all.

But the rough effect of all my endeavour – my putting my house, my mortgage, my car, the whole of my bloody life on the line – as I reminded him I have done in my time –

has been to embody this unspeakably crude assumption that it’s still worth human beings trying to get something done...

And what did he say?

Say?

Say?

You mean, like ‘say’ as in the concept of actually replying?

Kyra, you don’t understand.

This is the modern game.

This is men’s tennis.

People don’t bother with rallies.

You put in your big serve and you hope to hell it never comes back.

He’s not like what you’d call rational-articulate.

He doesn’t want argument.

For Christ’s sake, Kyra, you teach.

Language belongs to the past.

This is the world of Super Mario.

Bang!

Splat!

Spit out your venom and go.

It’s not like, you know...

when we were together.

You and me talking.

Talking down the stars from the sky.

This is...

oh, you know...

it’s instinct.

This is a young man wanting to hurt.

And does he hurt?

No, of course not.

For God’s sake, look, I’ve fought bigger than him.

He can’t get a glove on me.

That’s why he’s angry.

There’s no problem.

It’s all in hand.

What?

No, really.

What are you thinking?

Are you putting the chilli in first?

No, it’s just I usually...

I fry the chilli, so it infuses the oil.

Uh-huh.

I see.

I don’t do that.

I’m doing it the way I prefer.

Yeah.

I haven’t quite asked you.

I mean, if I’m going to stay.

I mean...

I just mean for supper.

I’m actually asking.

I mean, are you laying two plates?

Thank you.

Believe me, I’m really grateful.

Think nothing of it.

Oh, and put the chilli in first.

You never cooked.

No, I didn’t.

I remember in those early days once you asking if you could try it some time...

I never did.

I was a happy waitress.

You weren’t a waitress for long.

I was a waitress for forty-five minutes.

Alice made me the boss on the spot.

That was a night.

It was.

Hilary’s accident!

It was my first trip to London, I just walked in off the street.

You were eighteen.

Incredible!

You were the same age Edward is now.

I was so thrilled, I remember.

At last I’d escaped.

I was walking down London’s famous King’s Road.

I saw the sign ‘Waitress Wanted’.

I walked in.

Alice told me I could start right away.

Then after an hour of it, she came running over.

She said her daughter was in hospital, she’d fallen off her bike.

She said she’d looked round and she’d decided.

Could I run the place for the night?

I said, ‘I’ve only just started, I only started an hour ago.’

She said, ‘I know.

I’ve watched you.

I trust you.

Now you must trust me, you’re going to be fine …’

What time was that?

Do you remember?

Oh, it can’t have been later than eight o’clock.

Before the rush?

I mean, oh yes.

I handled it.

I know I did the whole thing.

Then I closed up.

All the waiters were great, they were great, considering I’d only just started yet I was in charge.

They all said, ‘Look, we promise, there’s really no need for you to hang on here.

Just lock up the door and we’re all going home …’

But I don’t know...

I just had this instinct.

Somehow I didn’t think it was right.

I wanted to be there when Alice got back.

It’s funny.

Of course, I would have met you anyway.

Surely I would have met you the next day.

But there was something about that evening.

Something to do with the evening itself...

I sat alone.

Drank espresso.

Smoked cigarettes.

This deserted restaurant all to myself.

But filled with inexpressible happiness.

This crazy feeling.

‘I don’t know why but this is where I belong.’

And then?

And then...

Need I continue?

Then towards morning she came back with you.

Earlier she’d rung.

I’d driven like a madman from some meeting.

In those days I had the Jag.

Praying.

Weeping.

You know, feeling not like myself, because I thought...

I was thinking, I’m not a person who cries.

Crying with relief, too, at the sight of Hilary.

Fast asleep in the little bed.

Her leg in plaster.

Some fucking nurse.

What terrible parents!

How could you let your daughter play in the road?

Then, when we came back, you brought us brandy and coffee.

In our own restaurant.

At four o’clock.

It was completely natural.

I thought, this is the strangest night of my life.

This girl I’d never met before, bringing brandy and coffee.

It’s as if she’s been with us the whole of our lives.

Yeah, that was something.

It was.

Didn’t you stay with us?

I did.

I stayed at your place.

On the floor.

Well, I have to say that was my moment.

From that moment on...

I’d have done anything, just to stay with you, just to stay in that house.

I remember I got really angry soon after, after a few weeks or so, you saying you weren’t going to give up a place at university.

You weren’t going to make your life in the catering trade.

I didn’t say ‘catering’!

I never used the words ‘catering trade’!

Honestly, you make me sound like a prig.

No?

A prig?

Impossible!

You’re a seaside solicitor’s daughter!

Are you saying that some of that hadn’t rubbed off?

It’s just...

for goodness’ sake...

I loved mathematics.

I did.

I loved it.

I wasn’t going to give up halfway.

And what’s more, it meant finally escaping my father.

I was hardly going to pass up that chance.

It wasn’t easy.

You started to lecture me.

I was quite shocked.

‘Don’t waste your time on higher education, it’s only a way of postponing real life …’

So it is.

I was so worried, I went to Alice.

I said, ‘Does he mean it?’ She said, ‘Never take any notice of Tom …’

Thank you, Alice...

‘And even if you go, he knows you’ll always want to come back …’

You gave me a place.

It was there.

I could count on your welcome.

And I never doubted, not for a moment, that when I came back to London, there’d be a job waiting.

In spite of – my God!

– whatever else I was doing.

Far more, let me tell you, far more than you ever knew …

Yes, well, I have to say I assumed, I hardly thought – you were young enough, for God’s sake – I hardly thought you lived the life of a nun.

You wish!

You thought I was jealous?

You did tear that painting from the wall.

I did not tear it.

As God is my witness, I did not remove it.

It fell.

Oh yes, I see, pure coincidence, this picture painted by a man of whom you happened not to approve...

Colin!

The original art-school wanker...

the greasy beard and the clogs.

Who had painted me at college, as I felt rather beautifully.

Rather beautifully, but wearing no clothes.

That was the point.

You could not stand it.

You saw me there on the wall.

It’s true.

I looked at it.

I just looked at it.

I sent beams of hatred from across the room.

And without my touching it, I admit it fell down.

Oh, sure.

It wasn’t – be fair!

– it wasn’t the sight of you, it wasn’t just the image of you, it was my disbelief...

my horror that this young woman who seemed so capable...

so smart –

Thank you...

– should have had the clothes ripped off her as if they were tissue as soon as some phoney used the word ‘art’.

I thought you were gullible!

No, I was open-minded.

And what’s more, yeeaaaars younger than you.

And living a life.

I was, what do they call it, experimenting... I was having a good time.

You actually tried to lecture me... You did!

‘In a way you’re part of the family, in a way, Kyra, you’re like a daughter of mine …’

I didn’t say ‘daughter’!

Oh, but you did.

Where was this?

That ghastly hamburger restaurant you had.

You were in your chargrilled hamburger phase.

Oh God, I’m ashamed!

I mean, I’m ashamed of the lecture, I’m ashamed of those burgers as well.

The burgers!

The lecture!

I must say, it begins to come back...

And I thought, yes, oh I see.

I realised then: here we go.

What?

I thought, hold on.

This is it.

This is only going to be a matter of time.

Pressing on.

You know, that’s the thing in business.

My chairman keeps telling me: never look back.

In business, he says, the world was created this morning.

No such thing as the past...

He says that modern management asks you to look at your assets, really look at them – this is a fierce, competitive world, all that crap!

– how you got here’s not part of the story, the only story is what you do now...

And what do you do?

Oh, expand, inevitably.

I mean, expand, I hardly need say that.

Defend market share.

Build another stainless steel restaurant, this one larger, more fashionable than ever, turning over hundreds of covers in a day.

It need never end.

Nor will it.

You love it.

Oh yes.

I must admit that I do.

All that time, I must say, I can’t deny it, while Alice was...

you know...

while she was lying in that bloody room...

well, it was true for me, I saw no alternative but to redouble my efforts.

It was like some lunatic board game.

Not helped of course by your having quit.

It’s true, though, I must say I missed you professionally.

Thank you.

I kind of missed you in person as well.

I really did, Kyra.

I never...

I’ve never got used to it.

Ever.

What, missed me so badly it’s taken you three years to get back in touch?

Now look...

I mean, come on, let’s be serious.

You think I haven’t wanted to?

My God, you think I haven’t wanted to call?

To pick up the telephone?

You think I haven’t wanted to jump in the car and bust my way through that bloody door?

But then why didn’t you?

Kyra, why do you think?

Because I knew once I saw you, then I’d be finished.

I knew I’d never be able to leave.

OK, well, I must say, that’s an answer...

You see.

What?

I’m getting better.

Well, aren’t I?

Getting better at what?

Talking about my feelings.

You always told me I had no gift for that stuff.

As far as I remember we had no need for it.

We had no need to discuss our feelings at all.

Or rather, I didn’t.

I could always tell what you were feeling.

It never had to be said.

You’d wander about the office in Chelsea.

Later we’d go home to work.

We’d sit in the kitchen with Alice.

I’d spend the evening reading to your kids.

I could never understand it.

I still don’t.

You never felt the slightest sense of betrayal.

There we are.

I always felt profoundly at peace.

I don’t know why, it still seems true to me: if you have a love, which for any reason you can’t talk about, your heart is with someone you can’t admit

– not to a single soul except for the person involved – then for me, well, I have to say, that’s love at its purest.

As long as it lasts, it’s this astonishing achievement.

Because it’s always a relationship founded in trust.

It seems mad to me.

I know.

You didn’t feel that.

I knew you never understood it.

Why I was able to go on seeing Alice.

Why we were always at ease.

Why I loved her so much.

But I did.

It’s a fact.

There it is.

The three of us.

It gave me a feeling of calm.

You were the person I fell in love with.

And as it happened you arrived with a wife.

Do you mind?

Do I mind what?

No, I’m just asking...

What?

I’m asking. Will you grate the cheese?

Do you mean this?

I do.

Are you serious?

Is this what you’re calling the cheese?

Yeah, I forgot to get fresh.

I wouldn’t give this greasy lump of crud to my cat.

I do not believe it.

Kyra, what’s happening?

Are you really living like this?

Why didn’t you say?

For God’s sake, I have this supplier...

I’m sure!

For cheese – all types of cheese – I have this really great bloke.

Of course!

Your whole life is great blokes!

I mean, I can get you a weekly delivery – no problem – he’ll send you fresh parmesan whenever you need.

Nevertheless.

I’m going to get Frank.

I’m sorry?

I’m going to call down to Frank, this is ridiculous, to send out, just to go to a deli and get us something for now...

Hold on a moment, what are you saying?

Are you saying that Frank is sitting out there?

Sure.

Waiting out in the car all the time we’ve been talking?

Yes.

I mean, yes!

For Christ’s sake, what’s wrong with that?

You leave him down there?

You really are quite extraordinary.

Why?

I remember you used to tell me you had this great gift!

you prided yourself on what you called your man-management skills.

And yet you still treat people as if they were no better than objects...

For God’s sake, Kyra, the man is a driver.

That’s what he does.

You know full well that drivers don’t drive.

The greater part of their lives they spend waiting...

Tom, there is some sort of limit!

And furthermore, that is what they expect.

Frank, I may tell you...

Frank, as it happens, is perfectly happy.

Frank for a start is bloody well paid.

He is sitting in a spacious limousine listening to Kiss 100 and reading what is politely called a ‘men’s interest’ magazine...

Have you looked out the window?

Have you seen the weather?

Have you seen there’s snow about to come down?

Don’t give me that tosh!

Frank is a bloody sight better off sitting in a warm Mercedes than he would be in this fucking fur-store which you call your home.

Well...

I mean, here we are!

This is the problem!

That’s what it was.

That was the problem.

This ridiculous self-righteousness!

I mean, to be fair, you always had it.

But also, I knew, I knew it wasn’t going to get better.

And, let’s face it, it was only going to get worse once you decided you wanted to teach.

It’s nothing to do with my teaching, it isn’t to do with the work that I do, it’s just a way of respecting people.

Frank isn’t people!

Frank is a man who is doing a job!

You were always salving your own bloody conscience...

these stupid gestures, nothing to do with what people might want.

They want to be treated...

respected like adults for the job they are paid for, and not looked down on as if they were chronically disabled, as if they somehow need help all the time.

I mean, yes, this was the craziness!

This was the whole trouble with business and you!

You looked down – always!

– on the way we did things.

The way things are done.

You could never accept the nature of business.

I mean, finally that’s why you had to leave.

Well, I must say...

I mean...

I never knew that was the reason!

All right, I’m sorry...

I never knew that was why I had to leave.

I put it badly.

Badly?

You did.

I thought I left because your wife discovered I’d been sleeping with you for over six years!

I mean, well, yes.

That as well, that played a part in it.

I should say it fucking well did.

That was part of the problem.

Part of?

Part of?

But you did have a problem of attitude.

Your attitude to business you never got straight!

Well...

What I’m saying is, you’d have left anyway.

I could sense it.

You were feeling it was time for a change.

Tom, I left because I’d always warned you: ‘If Alice finds out, then I shall go.’

All right...

I told you, I told you a thousand times...

Yes.

I know you did.

I can only do this for as long as she doesn’t find out.

When she found out, then it changed things.

Instantly.

‘Instantly’ says it.

You were gone in an hour.

Wham!

Out the door!

With me left explaining to all the other employees...

Oh, really?

I don’t think anyone was very convinced.

I had no choice.

I know it sounds stupid.

You have something worked out in your own mind.

Then something changes.

The balance is gone.

You no longer believe your own story.

And that, I’m afraid, is the moment to leave.

I heard you moved.

Yes.

We did that quite quickly.

We moved when Alice was starting to get ill.

How long was her illness?

She was...

well, let’s see...

She was in the bed, in the bad bit, I suppose, it was getting on for a year.

I mean we’d known, I mean soon after you left us...

then she began to experience dizziness.

She’d taken no notice at first.

We were in such total confusion, at that time things were already so tough, so that news of the illness...

to be honest, at first, when it was first diagnosed, it seemed like kind of a joke.

How much misfortune?

Where are the gods?

She needed a place where she could be peaceful.

I built this extraordinary bedroom – this builder, the one I mentioned, you know – with this wonderful sloping glass roof.

The Common outside.

Fantastic!

We gave her the picture she wanted, exactly what she wanted to see.

She became quite...

well, she became quite mystic.

I don’t mean to sound cruel, but it was kind of difficult for me.

In what way?

You know Alice.

She got hold of this bloody word ‘spiritual’.

It’s one of those words I’ve never quite understood.

I mean, I’ve always hated the way people use it.

They use it to try and bump themselves up.

‘Oh I’ve had a spiritual experience,’ they say...

As if that’s the end of the argument.

‘Spiritual’, meaning: ‘It’s mine and shove off.’

People use it to prove they’re sensitive.

They want it to dignify quite ordinary things.

Religion.

Now, that's different.

I like religion.

Because religion has rules.

It’s based on something which actually occurred.

There are things to believe in.

And what’s more, what makes it worth following – not that I do, mind you – there’s some expectation of how you’re meant to behave.

But ‘spiritual’...

it’s all wishy-washy.

It means, ‘Well, for me, for me this is terribly important, but I’m fucked if I can really say why …’

Is that how Alice was?

Oh look, I don’t mean to downgrade it.

Alice was dying.

Let’s face it, in my view she grabbed at whatever she could.

She was always faddish.

But that’s what it was.

Grabbing.

It wasn’t solid.

It wasn’t like she really believed.

If you’d said, ‘Oh look, what do you believe in?

What is there?

What’s happening?

What’s real?’, she couldn’t say.

It was all sensation.

Yes, but Tom, surely, that’s not so unusual...

I know!

That’s how most people die.

They die in that state.

Half knowing.

Not knowing.

Surely that’s what you’d expect?

I don’t know.

I could see the room was beautiful.

I mean, it was a beautiful room.

And so it should be.

I’m not being wholly facetious, but the fact is I had spent a great deal.

I mean, I’m not kidding.

I spent a great deal of money.

All that glass, the sandalwood floor.

The sky!

The greenery!

The light!

I gave her everything.

So what are you saying?

I don’t know.

I just felt frustrated.

I felt out of contact.

What you’re saying is the two of you never got straight.

No.

What you mean is, you never got over your guilt.

Guilt.I don’t know.

I mean, guilt’s another word.

It’s one of those words people use.

I mean, sure.

In a way.

I mean, yes, I can hardly deny it.

Both of us knew.

Both Alice and me.

We knew our time together was wrecked.

But Alice was far too proud to reproach me.

And then of course, being Alice, she began to withdraw.

Reading!

Sewing!

Gardening!

All those feminine things!

The effect?

To make me feel much worse than if she’d stood up and fought.

She kept saying, ‘No, you go on with your life, Tom.

We’re such different people,’ that’s what she said.

‘Don’t mind me.

Forget me.

I’m happy reading and gardening.’

Christ!

Fucking gardening!

If I could make it illegal I would!

She’d say quietly, ‘Well, you know, Tom, I think we were always mismatched.

For a man like you, Kyra is much more intelligent.’

She’d praise you.

Always.

‘Kyra’s attractive.

She’s clever.

She’s smart.’

I mean, she’d actually say that.

‘I’m much too docile, I know.’

Jesus!

I look back on that time in our lives, my own wife telling me in tones of absolute sweetness how right I was to love someone else.

And what’s more, what a good choice!

Then when she got ill...

you think, ‘I see, is this some sort of punishment?

Do You always punish the meek?’ Alice’s peace of mind taken from her.

Her friendship with you.

She’s just beginning to absorb this.

And then she’s told that she’s going to die.

And now?

Now?

What are you feeling?

Oh, not too bad.

I think I’m all right.

I’ve found ways of coping.

In the way that you do.

I mean, I’ve got the business.

I’ve got the house.

A woman came – I didn’t tell you this – a woman came to the door.

She said she was from a local support group.

I couldn’t believe it.

She told me she’d come to help me to grieve.

I said, ‘I beg your pardon?’ She said, don’t worry, it’s not going to cost you.

It’s on the rates.’

Or the Poll Tax, whatever it’s called.

I said, ‘I’m meant to feel better?

that’s meant to make it all right?

That’s meant to make all the difference?’ Oh good, this is great, I think I’ll do this, I’ll mourn my wife in the company of this total stranger, after all it’s going to be free...

I said, ‘Look, lady, I’ll tell you one thing.

When I choose to grieve for this woman...

this woman with whom I spent such a...

large part of my life, it will not be in the presence of a representative of Wimbledon Council.’

She said, ‘Oh, we’re in Merton now.’

I mean, please tell me!

Don’t they know anything?

You suffer.

That’s what you do.

There are no short cuts.

There are no easy ways.

And I have been doing my share of suffering.

Yes. I know that. That’s what I’ve heard.

What do you mean?

What do you mean by that?

I talked to Edward.

Edward?

That’s right.

When?

You’ve talked to Edward?

Oh shit, the pasta is going to be done...

For Christ’s sake, forget the pasta.

Oh God, I think it’s going to be spoilt.

What are you saying?

Have you kept on seeing Edward?

No. He’s only been over here once.

When?

As it happened, this evening.

He came, he told me that you’d been impossible.

He says you still can’t live with yourself.

He said you spend the whole day in a fury.

What fury?

He says you’re totally lost.

How dare he?

How dare he come here and talk about me?

He came out of kindness.

He came because he’s concerned for his father.

Concerned?

Concerned for his father?

Like fuck!

He came because he’s a little shit-stirrer.

Because he likes making other people’s business his own.

I mean, shit!

I’ve heard you, Tom...

I mean, you’ve done this, you’ve done this your whole bloody life...

Done what?

Pretended not to understand anything.

Pretended, when you understand perfectly well.

Understand what?

You’ve taken this boy...

I’ve taken him?

You’ve taken this son of yours.

Edward.

You’ve made his life miserable.

He told me.

You had a row.

For God’s sake, earlier this week, he left home.

So?

You’re making his life unendurable.

And only because you happen to be so bloody guilty...

Me?

And so you take your guilt out on him.

Is that what I do?

It is.

Oh, really?

Yes.

I see.

Is that his opinion?

I think so.

Is that his version?

Is that what he says?

He didn’t need to say it.

I lived with your family, remember?

Do you think I don’t know what the hell’s going on?

Ah, now I see, Kyra, you’re actually inventing.

I see.

This is guesswork.

The truth is, you’re making this up.

From your knowledge of the family you once walked out on...

All right.

Edward didn’t actually say any of this...

I think he saw your behaviour.

My behaviour?

The way you behaved at the end.

He was there.

He knew your real feelings.

And I think that’s why you’re punishing him now.

Do you think, please, Tom, do you think I’ve believed this stuff you’ve been telling me?

Stuff?

‘I’m enjoying the business, it’s wonderful.

I get on great with my son.

Alice dying was hard, but of course I survived it.

No problem.

I just dropped round to see you...

Oh, no reason, I just thought it was time …’ And me, I’m standing here, nodding, smiling, agreeing like some ape...

and thinking, is this man lying to me deliberately?

Or does he not even notice?

Or is he so used to lying to himself?

It’s all right for me.

I’m fine.

You can tell me anything.

Any old story.

I’m lucky because I’ve moved on.

But Edward is young.

He needs his father.

He deserves honesty.

He deserves not to be treated like dirt.

That isn’t fair.

Oh, isn’t it?

It isn’t one-sided.

Sometimes, I know, I can be hard on the boy.

And why?

He’s such a jerk.

Oh come on, Tom.

All right, it’s true.

I couldn’t face Alice.

Not at the end.

Any excuse.

I went travelling.

I opened hotels abroad.

New York.

Los Angeles.

The further the better.

I couldn’t – I know it was wrong of me – do you really think I don’t know it?

– but, Jesus...

I could not stay in that room.

All right, I’m not proud.

We both knew what was happening.

I kept thinking, ‘It’s not like a test.

What’s happening is chance.

It’s pure chance.

It’s simply bad luck.’

But I couldn’t fight it.

I felt...

oh, everyone’s watching. Her friends.

I know what they think. This is some sort of trial of my character.

And no doubt the bastards are saying I fail.

But Edward was as bad. Don’t ever think otherwise. He failed just as badly. In a different way.

I came home, six friends of his lying on the floor, drinking Heineken.

Drugs.

Shit, I don’t know...

I remember screaming, ‘What the hell are you doing? Don’t you know your mother is lying up there?’

I was so angry.

Every day this fury that you had walked out.

Walked out and left me to handle this thing.

I did try to use it.

I used your memory.

I kept saying, ‘Look, I must behave well.

I must try.

Because who knows?

If I behave well, I might still have a chance here.’

A chance?

Yes.

What sort of chance?

I think you know what I mean.

I kept on saying, ‘If I behave well, if I get through this, then maybe Kyra is going to come back.’

Sitting by the bed.

Just awful.

Looking at Alice, propped up on the pillows, her eyes liquid, cut off...

I’d think, ‘Oh shit, if Kyra were with us, if Kyra were here …’

Jesus, why weren’t you?

‘If Kyra were here, she’d know what to do.’

But you ran and left us.

Yes. I had to.

You did what you said people never should do.

I had no choice.

I had to get out of Alice’s way.

I had to make a new life of my own.

And this is it, Kyra?

This is the life that you made?

Will you tell me, will you tell me, please, Kyra, what exactly are you doing here?

Are you going to go down?

Will you talk to Frank then?

What shall I say to him?

Send him away.

He’s gone.

Kyra. I’m back.