Original subtitles

Good night, sweetheart.

All my prayers are for you.

Good night, sweetheart.

I'll be watching over you.

Tears and parting may make us alone.

But with the dawn, a new day is born.

What are you doing?

I thought I heard a spitfire, but it was a plane from the flying school. Oh,

isn't it a gorgeous evening?

Not a cloud in the sky.

Eh,

I'd be surprised if Jerry came over tonight.

Jerry? We don't know anybody called Jerry.

Hey, what do you think?

Have I missed something?

Sorry? Oh, what happened to the darling I've got a lovely surprise for you?

Not to mention the swollen stomach and the violent mood swings.

It's for Alison, you prat.

And please don't say it won't fit her.

Oh, as if I would.

Sir, your sister's finally given birth to the new Messiah, is she? Yeah, nine o

'clock this morning. Craig phoned me.

What was it?

Oh, the boy.

Seven pounds, 3M. Oh.

That's an unusual name.

Perhaps I'll call it Seve, and then it can become a pro golfer.

You know, they want us to be godparents, but I'm not sure whether I'd trust you

with a spiritual guidance of a stick insect.

What have you been spending our money on now?

Yeah, well... 120 pounds!

Yeah, all right, so they weren't cheap, but they do contain details of virtually

every air raid on England during the entire war.

Oh, well, that's all right, then. For a second, I thought they weren't going to

come in useful.

Yvonne, why do you think I didn't get that promotion?

Because you didn't know the exact time and date of the German air raid on the

master, Alexandra Pallas.

Of course.

It's doing this psychology course that's made you sarcastic. You were never

sarcastic when I met you. No, I was only a wages clerk then. Had my work cut out

mastering irony.

You were a lot more accommodating, too.

You mean easy.

No, you weren't that easy.

Not with you, maybe.

The reason I failed that interview was because I was boring.

Because when they asked me about my hobbies, all I could think about was

music, snooker and television.

Oh, so you decided to take up unhealthily obsessive interest in a

the Second World War.

Well, fretwork's cheaper.

Anyway, we've got to crack on. Visiting finishes at eight.

Right. Alison, a little survey, remember?

Oh, I haven't got to go, have I?

Oh, no, I hate visiting women with new babies.

I only ever go on about how long it took and what drugs they had and how many

stitches they needed.

Try not to be so enthusiastic.

It's bad for your blood pressure.

That's interesting.

What is?

Well, this week in 1940, Mr Churchill and President Roosevelt concluded a

arms deal. You're lying.

Eh? It's not interesting.

Oh, no.

What?

Listen.

Enemy action was considerably greater than of late on October the 25th. Heavy

bombing started unusually early in the evening over the east end of London.

Yeah, so?

October 25th, today's date.

53 years ago, Gary.

Yeah, but I can... Yeah.

Yeah, but it's fascinating, isn't it? It is if you've lost your grip on reality.

I'm going to go and get changed.

Oh, my God!

Um... I don't believe it.

I've left my best circuit tester in Holborn and I'm going to need it first

in the morning.

Give my love to Alison.

Do me strength.

Hello?

Hello?

Can you hear me?

Well, I can hear you.

Hello, sir.

Having problems?

Yeah, I can hear the other end, but they can't hear me.

Well, there is a war on, sir.

That's why I'm here.

Bloody British Telecom. What?

Hold your horses, young Gary.

You didn't forget to press button A, did you? You'll be forgetting your head

next. I haven't got any more pennies left now.

Then we press button B to get our money back, don't we?

I don't know.

Youngsters today.

Sometimes I think you're living in a different world.

I'm as patriotic as the next man.

But three months for showing too bright a light on your pushbike. It's a bit

steep. It was a third offence. Well, the cream's down. When you got a moment,

Eric? That light could have helped the Nazi bombers home in on their target.

do me a favour, Manny, and what are we going to do for a district nurse till

gets out?

Now, look, Eric, we're at total war with an implacable enemy.

It's all right for you. If Hitler invades, I'm a goner. Why's that, then?

Because he's a front -wheel skid. Not with you.

What's my name?

Emmanuel Solomon.

Oh. Just tweet. Silly me. Thank you.

That's what you get when you stand too close to a landmine. What?

Nothing.

Phoebe!

Hello?

Hi, Phoebe.

Gary!

Where are you? How have you been?

Oh, not so dusty. Yourself?

Nothing grumbly.

So, has your Donald gone back?

Yes. Yes, he embarked last night. No, don't tell me.

Careless talk and all that.

Oh, sorry.

Listen, mind if I pop round for a few minutes?

Of course not.

All right.

See you soon, then.

A bottle of Greenstout, Phoebe?

Sometime before the end of the war, if we must.

That was quick.

Yeah, I was in the phone box down the street.

Oh, you.

Are you scared to come in in case my don will give you another shiner?

Not scared, no. Just didn't want to take back the war effort by giving a serving

soldier a set of brisknuckles.

Get you a drink?

Er, yeah. Yeah, just a quick ask.

Oh, hello. I've never seen him in here before.

He's that young chap from down Cricklewood Way.

You know, the one that's always writing all them tunes.

It's a little bit funny, yeah.

No, it's not.

I don't know what he's always doing around these parts. He's sniffing round

Phoebe, that's what.

So, you've been keeping busy?

Well, there is a war on Phoebe, you know.

I can't stay long. I've got to get back to... Well, you know. Oh, yes, of

course.

But I did want to tell you, we've had advance warning that Jerry's coming over

extra early tonight. The East End's really going to get a pacing.

How do you know?

I can't say.

But if I were you, I'd get down the underground, preferably up west. Really?

Dad, did you hear that? What?

Gary was saying they're going to come over early tonight.

Before dark?

Who's going to come over?

The King's Head dance team. The Germans, of course.

Oh!

Right in your arse, huh? Are you sure?

Of course he's sure.

Look, I have contacts.

I can't say more than that. Just a minute.

Why do you think I've got this?

Because you're good at nuts.

Now, listen, Mr Cleverdick.

If anything out of the ordinary was about to occur, don't you think the ARP

would be the first to know? No, I think Herman Goering would be the first to

know. I don't want that fat pig's name mentioned in here, thank you very much.

Yeah, but he's dropped the last few nights.

The story is our lads have knocked out most of their planes.

I wish that was true.

Just a second.

Phoebe, have you told Gary your husband's gone back to Tunisia?

Eric, Storm, keep it under your hat, for God's sake. You did tell him, didn't

you? And what did this lounge lizard say?

Lounge lizard? Me?

Don't tell me, let me guess. Come up west with me and you'll be as safe as

houses. Safer, I hope. He just wants to get you a reputation.

No, look, in 20 minutes, all hell's going to break loose here. Dad, please.

you really think I'm going to shut up shop on a Friday night, payday?

He may get you to believe all this mumbo -jumbo, but I wasn't born yet today,

all right? Stay!

All right, go.

Go, then, if you want to.

You'd better just pray your husband doesn't get to hear about it. Away

for his king and country! Yes, well, when he gets back, I won't be much use

him dead, will I?

Oh, it makes me fun cross sometimes.

Most of the time, come to me again. Come on, I'll walk you to the bus stop.

You'll do what?

You'll get a bus to the nearest tube. That way you'll be safe underground, 100

feet before the siren even goes off. You don't think I'm going up west on my

own?

You'll be fine.

You know, cosy, nice mug of tea, bit of a sing -song. I've only ever been up

west three times in my life, and if you won't come with me... But Yvonne's

expecting me back.

Yvonne? Who's she?

Yvonne... Goulibon.

My... Control.

Um, forget I ever mentioned her name, all right.

You work for a woman?

Yeah, an Australian woman. It's not quite the same thing.

Well, if you won't come with me, I'm staying cool.

Phoebe! I mean it!

All right, wait here.

That sort of thing never used to happen during the war.

That's what my granddad always used to say.

I don't suppose you've got a spare phone card.

She'd never done away with national service.

Where did you go?

Find a police van, Dr. Cote.

Oh, really?

Well, you could bear with Yvonne.

No, I can't get through. Come on, let's go. Well, won't you worry?

Yeah. Probably get the savage stick from her tomorrow. Come on, let's go.

It's worse than the first day of Harrod's sale.

I'm telling you, I didn't think it was going to be this... crowded this early?

Excuse me, does it usually get this crowded this early?

Early? Most people start queuing up after breakfast.

Haven't you got a ticket?

Oh, yeah.

I've got two returns from Whitechapel. I mean shelter tickets.

Where have you been?

He's been in America. He's returned to do his bit.

Oh, yeah?

Then why is he hiding down here?

Look, I think you'd better take me home. No, look, Phoebe, it's not safe. It's

never safe.

We're at war.

Aha. I do hope you don't mind me intruding, but you and your good wife

be in a small predicament.

No, she's not my wife.

Oh, I quite understand.

The exigencies of war and all that.

In any event, I happen to have in my possession at this very moment two

tickets for this evening in the upper circle, so to speak.

Really?

Hey, you're a spiv, aren't you?

I really tried to assist you and your good lady.

You and your, um, friend.

How much?

Ah, well, obviously, the price will have to reflect the length of time I had to

queue, the great demand, and the limited supply.

Not forgetting the fact that tonight's entertainment is to be provided by the

great Alfonso, the most sought -after recordingist on the entire Piccadilly

line.

How much? And, of course, bye.

Surrendering, my buck.

I run the high risk of leaving your station and getting my head blown off.

How much?

Ten bob the fare?

Done.

You are so responsible.

Come on, child.

Well, this is nice, isn't it?

Whenever I go down the tube, I always fancy one of those little bars of

chocolate out of the machine.

I love chocolate.

I'd do anything for a bar of chocolate.

Where did you get that?

Well, the American Embassy's got a sweet shop.

Like smashing.

Well, go on, then.

Go on, then what?

Well, should you do anything for a bar of chocolate?

Oh, I see.

So what do you have in mind?

No, I'm only joking.

No, you would.

Sauce box.

Can I have a bit of chocolate, please, sir?

Yeah.

You don't mind if I save it for later, do you?

No, no, of course not.

I'm going

to

hand it to him. He can't go. He was right.

Yeah. So he still feels out of it?

Yeah.

Clarence, he's getting the right pacing.

The double compasses has had to direct it.

Really? There are a lot left to come drinking around here tomorrow night,

Look, babe, looks like young Gary was right about the raid being early

Yes.

He certainly seemed to know something I didn't.

I said to him, I said, Donald, I said, if you can't trust me and I can't trust

you, what sort of a marriage is that?

Then, after all, everyone knows about the women out east.

And the dirty pictures they sell on the docks.

And the... You know.

Places men can go.

You mean houses of ill repute?

No.

I mean knocking shops.

Well, you know how it is for you.

Soldiers away from their loved ones, you can't... No, no.

We stood in saint saviours and both made vows. What is the point if we don't

mean to keep them?

Yeah, take your point.

Otherwise, how's a marriage supposed to survive?

I hadn't thought of that.

So, then Donald apologised, said that he was wrong not to trust me, and that it

was all right for me to see you, just as friends, because he knew we wouldn't do

nothing wrong, never.

So Donald trusted me too, did he? I told him you were a perfect gentleman, and

he believed me.

Hmm.

You are a perfect gentleman, aren't you?

Well, I suppose so, if I have to be.

Only, the way you usually talk about Donald, I don't think you're still in

with him.

Oh, I'm not?

Not really.

Like in the pictures.

Gary, can I tell you something terrible?

What?

I really only married Donald because I was frightened that otherwise I'd end up

having to look after Dad the rest of my life.

You're a wicked girl.

I know.

Oh, Phoebe, things will be different after the war.

Women will have the right to do what they want, not what they're told.

People won't have to stay married to people they don't like anymore.

They'll get divorced. It'll be no big deal.

Couples will live together who aren't even married.

They'll have kids and no one will give a damn.

You and your imagination.

No, it's... Yeah.

But... Imagine there's no heaven.

It's easy if you try.

No hell below us.

Above us, only sky.

Imagine all the people... People are looking.

Sorry. Is that another one of your songs?

Yeah.

I'd prefer it yesterday.

All my troubles seem so far away.

Oh, Craig.

No, there's no sign of him.

Well, yes, he has been acting a bit strange.

But then you know Gary was like this with the novelty teapots.

Look, there's somebody at the door. I'm going to go. Yes, I'll call you if it's

him.

I thought you might be... No, I know.

But alas, it is only I. Yes, I see.

Any road I've driven all round the neighbourhood.

And I'm fairly certain he's not lying in a pool of blood in some dark alley

following a vicious mugging.

Well, that's the weight off my mind.

Do you want a coffee?

Only if it's canned.

Sorry.

It comes in bottles. I like the chicory. It gives me a buzz. I'm sorry, we only

have real coffee.

That'll do.

So what about the police? Did they call back?

Yeah, they've checked all round.

He's not in any hospitals.

At least not yet.

And did you ring round all his haunts?

Well, he hasn't got any haunts.

Not unless you count the snooker club and the dumb cow and their bullshit.

Hold on.

He was enthusing the other week about some 1940s theme pub in the East End.

Has he ever said anything to you?

No.

Not in so many words.

What do you mean?

Well... Ron, if you know something... All right.

Yvonne, would you say you had an open mind?

I'd like to think so.

then have you ever conjectured as to whether the world as we perceive it is

be -all and end -all of physical existence?

Are we talking spiritually or scientifically?

I think I'm taking a position somewhere between those two alternatives.

So we're dealing in metaphysics?

Could be.

Though I couldn't say for certain without getting hold of a dictionary.

Metaphysics is the science which investigates the first principles of

thought, which includes the abstract, the magical and the transcendental.

That sounds like the turf we're playing on.

I don't believe we're having this conversation.

OK, so what are you telling me? My husband's been spirited into the heavens

fiery chariot? Don't be daft! I just think he may have stumbled through a

in the space -time continuum and found himself in a parallel universe but at a

different point in history.

I think you should go home, Ron, and get some sleep.

And tomorrow, some professional help.

I know it sounds fairly wild, Yvonne.

But what other plausible explanation fits the facts?

He could have another woman.

I hadn't thought of that.

Yvonne, I'm sorry I was out all night, but the van broke down and my AA

membership's lapsed.

Then why didn't you phone me?

Well, I went back to the office where I left my circuit tester and by the time I

found it, I was locked in.

So why didn't you phone me?

Yvonne, I spent all night down a cheap station sheltering from the blitz.

And I say, honestly, it's the best policy.

Sorry, did I wake you up?

I think it's coming!

Is there a doctor in the station?

Don't worry, love, you're going to be all right.

Let's get her to her feet.

Come on, you feel better standing up. No, no, no, he knows what he's doing. He

used to live in America.

Gary, what's he doing?

Um, anyone got a paper bag?

Breathe into this.

No, go on.

Any sign of a doctor?

A nurse?

A Boy Scout who's done a bit of first aid?

Yeah, you were hyperventilating. The paper bag makes you re -breathe your

dioxide.

Right, bad contraction.

Just breathe with the pain. Don't hold your breath. And when it gets really

panic. Right, like this. Go.

Gary, how come you know so much about having babies?

I saw it on 30 -something.

What's that?

It's a television programme in... in America.

What? They show women having babies on television?

Oh, what's all the fuss here?

Having a baby.

natural thing in the world. Right, let's get you lying down on the floor.

No, no, it's better to keep her on her feet. It makes the labour shorter and

less painful.

Go and boil a kettle.

May I see your identity card, please?

Um, well, I think I left it at home.

Oh, yeah? And where's home? Berlin?

I'm Detective Inspector Howard.

This is Detective Sergeant Martin.

Of the Serious Cliché Squad?

I think you'd better come along with us, sir.

Fortunately, the city was deserted when the £500 device exploded.

The police are still searching the debris to see if anyone is trapped.

Sergeant Fairfax, this is Yvonne Sparrow.

No, he hasn't come home yet, but I just saw the news of that bomb in the city.

Well, Gary was going back to Holborn last night to get his circuit tester.

No, of course I don't think he planted it.

I think he might be under it.

can he be?

No, of course he hasn't got another woman.

Look at it from our point of view, Mr Sparrow.

You've no papers, no gas mask, no friends or relations to vouch for you.

got fair hair and blue eyes.

So have you.

My grandmother was Dutch.

I don't see what fair hair's got to do with it.

Hitler's got brown hair.

Goebbels has got black hair.

Goering's got sort of chestnut colour hair, but between you and me, I think he

dyes it.

How come you know so much about the Nazi's hair?

You got me banged to rights.

I admit it, I'm Hitler's barber.

Yeah, it's true.

Somewhere for the weekend, Adolf. Oh, yes, Poland, please, Gary.

What a joker.

We only fell out because he wouldn't let me cut his fringe.

It's not funny, sonny.

You're up to your neck in SH1T.

Look, I know the colour of the Nazis here because I've seen them on the

newsreels, of course.

I mean, haven't you seen enough newsreels of Hitler and his pals?

Oh, yes, I have.

In black and white, not colour.

Yeah, well, in America, everything's in colour. Oh, yeah. Yeah, America.

How does that story go again?

You spent three years over there studying wireless, and when you

were recruited to work in top -secret radio research.

In liaison with the Yanks? Who aren't even in the war?

Not officially.

And I'm Vera Lynn.

Well, then maybe we'll meet again.

All right, then.

Who's your governor in military intelligence?

Well, obviously, I can't tell you that. I mean, please.

Derek Milton?

Derek Milton.

Fancy not thinking of old Derek.

Who's Derek Milton?

He used to be an inspector over at Acme before he joined the intelligence boys.

He'll have your number.

Yeah, Mr Milton, please.

Derek? Sid.

Sid Howard.

Yeah, asterisk.

Oh, of course, you're not at liberty to say.

Anyway, got some young chap here.

Bit of a queer customer.

Do you mind?

He claims he's in your game.

Name of Gary Sparrow.

Yeah, okie -dokie, hang on.

Well, you can't expect them to have heard of me.

The secret world depends on people not knowing more than they need to.

I hear they make spies quite comfortable in the Tower of London these days. For

the brief period of time they have left of them. You'll be pleased to know

rationing doesn't apply to your choice of final meal.

Oh, come on, guys.

I've got it all this boiled down to, eh?

All right, so I guess the Luftwaffe would be over a bit early last night.

It's not a hanging offence, is it?

You're still here, Derek?

No -one's heard of him.

What a surprise.

I don't think.

No, hang on, hang on.

All right, ask him this.

If I'm not who I say I am, would I know that Winston Churchill and President

Roosevelt have just concluded a secret arms deal to equip ten British

What?

Well, go on, ask him.

Check.

Right you are.

Well, the good news is they've finished raking through the rubble and no -one's

trapped there. And the bad news is they haven't found Gary.

Oh, come on, Yvonne, that's not bad news. That's no news.

And after all, no news is good news.

Look, suppose he was near the bomb when it went off and he got concussed by the

blast. He could be wandering around London without his memory.

Come on, Yvonne, is that probable?

I suppose not.

I mean...

It's just as likely that he stumbled upon the bombers as they were planting

device and they kidnapped him.

Why don't you go to work, Ron?

I can't.

Stella made me promise I'd stay with you till she finished her shift.

Why?

Well, to lend you moral support and keep you cheerful, of course.

Well, you've failed.

Oh, Yvonne.

You'll be all right.

After all, the police said that loads of people go missing every week.

The majority of them turn up a few days later with a sheepish expression and a

perfectly plausible explanation.

Not necessarily true, but plausible.

You won't?

Oh, God, Gary, I was frantic.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't find her. I was delivering a baby.

That's perfectly plausible.

Thank God.

Honey, I was terrified you'd been caught up in the bombing.

You and your imagination.

Sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow.

Good night, sweetheart,

till we meet tomorrow.

Dreams enfold you, in memory I'll fold

you. Good night, sweetheart.