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Good night, sweet heart.
All my prayers are for you.
Good night, sweet heart.
I'll be watching over you.
Tears and parting may make us alone.
But with the dawn, a new day is born.
I'm sorry I woke you.
Forgot my key.
I was in the middle of a dream where I was trapped in an Anderson shelter with
Vera Lynn. And I got here just in time.
Don't you ever go at Vera?
You might see her as some old dear who just bashes out endless renditions of
White Cliffs of Dover.
But in my other life, she's a major babe.
Gary Sparrow's Rear of the Year, 1941.
There's no satisfying you, is there?
Two birds on the go and still you dream about it?
Yeah, well, Ativan is 5 ,500 miles away in Korea, and Phoebe has gone into her
no -sex -please -we're -pregnant mode. All I can do is dream about it.
How was the school reunion?
Yeah, yeah, it was good, good.
You wouldn't catch me at my school reunion.
They wouldn't invite you. You were expelled.
It was sad, though, seeing so many people stuck in such a rut.
Yeah, well, you and Doctor Who apart, I suppose we all are.
Mind you.
Samantha Hickey's filled out nicely since geography O -level.
God, I used to fancy her.
Of course, she wouldn't look at me twice back then.
A bit different now, though.
You didn't.
As if.
Ron, my wife and girlfriend are both pregnant.
Could have done, though.
My marriage is finally over.
What, again?
Wrong. I ventured home this morning to collect a couple of shirts and caught
and her boyfriend having full and very noisy sex on the living room carpet.
I don't know what to say.
It's the audacity of the man that gets me.
Doing it in my house, in my living room, on my carpet, in front of my fire, with
my Luther Vandross CD providing his rhythmic tempo.
Hold on, I'm a bit confused here. It sounds like you don't actually mind him
making love to your wife. What you can't stomach is that he's a freeloader.
Just another twist of the knife, you know? Well, yeah, yeah.
So what did you do?
I was cool and dignified.
Ah, good.
All the time I was hitting him, I was cool and dignified.
Well, yeah, fair enough. I think you're entitled to give him a bit of a smack.
That's all it would have been, too, if my cricket bat hadn't been so
conveniently to hand in the living room.
Is that blood on your shirt?
His nose did rather explode.
Well, how much damage did you do to the guy?
Hard to say. The red mist came down, you know? Yeah, literally.
Well, it can't have been that bad.
I mean, you haven't got the police banging on your door, have you?
Oh, bugger.
You made a lovely couple.
It was a good wedding, wasn't it?
Best knees up since the coronation.
Bloomin' war.
Isn't it right, losing a fine young chap like Donald? He's had his whole life in
front of him. Don't upset yourself again.
Let's open up, eh?
Better to keep busy.
Her upstairs won't approve.
I doubt she'd think it's seemly. Well, with a bit of luck, she'll take the hint
and clear off home.
I pride myself on always looking for the best in people, and I know she's
Donald's mum and she's grieving, but if Gerry was to send an incendiary bomb up
her corsets tomorrow, this war would not have been in vain.
What a morning. Now, you've heard me talk about my friend Ron, haven't you?
Well, he's had this sort of domestic trouble. You'll appreciate this, Reg.
Caught his wife with her fancy man.
Anyway, Ron has only ended up giving him two busted ribs and a broken nose. So
I've had to go down to the police station whilst he was charged with
then remanded in custody.
I don't know. Gary.
Yeah, I know what you're going to say. The pram for the baby. I hadn't
forgotten. But look, if it's too late for us to go now, I promise tomorrow...
Gary.
Donald's bought it.
He's what?
Well, you tell him it's none of his damn business. I'm perfectly capable of
buying my own child a pram. I'm trying to tell you he's been killed.
That sort of... Phoebe, I'm so sorry.
When did you find out? A couple of days ago.
I was desperate to get in touch with you. Isn't there a number I can ring you
on? Well, no.
When I'm not here, I'm incommunicado.
Don't they have phones there, then?
Do you know how Donald... He was killed by a sniper.
Well, at least that means it was quick.
Those guys are crack shots.
No, he wasn't shot.
Sniper fell out of a tree and it doddled on the head.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. It's just, um, just shock.
Yeah, that pan knocked you for sticks.
Once put my mini on her back for a week.
Normally takes a yank with a pocket full of nylons to do that.
I'm going, Phoebe. I shall see you at the church tomorrow. Don't be late.
That carpet in your front parlour could do with a good stiff broom, you know.
Who's this when he's at home?
This is Gary, a friend of mine and Donald's.
This is Donald's mum, Dolly.
Well, hello, Dolly.
I was very sorry to hear of you. Bye, then.
It'd be nice to get her back where she belongs.
He'll be buried over in Egypt, will he?
Yeah.
But we've arranged to have a little memorial service for him tomorrow.
Can't say I'm looking forward to it.
Would you like me to come?
I don't think it's the sort of thing a widow should take her boyfriend to.
Gary, I'm so glad you're back.
I'm sorry.
Just... Doesn't seem right under the circumstances. I feel enough of a cow as
is. Why?
My husband's died and I'm sad.
But that's it.
I've hardly shed a tear for him.
I think this war's turned me into a real hard -hearted bitch.
No, it hasn't.
You feel the way you do because you never really loved Donald. Not in that
Great wife, eh?
Don't be so hard on yourself.
Donald felt the same way too. He realised yours was a marriage of
You were friends, that's all.
Do you know what was the first thought that went through my mind when I got the
telegram?
Me and you getting married.
God, you're right.
Don't sound too keen, will you?
Well, no, I just mean I hadn't made the connection.
Yeah, well, why would you?
Come here.
Phoebe?
Blimey. You remind me of that film we saw.
Gone with the Wind?
No.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Get out, Sophie.
Phoebe. I'm sorry.
It's hardly the right time for a proposal, is it?
Anyway, you know you don't have to ask.
You know the answer's yes.
Gary, I can't.
Not... Just yet.
Look, if there's one thing I know Donald would have wanted, it's for you to be
happy. Am I right?
Well, I want you to have a great big wedding with all the trimmings. What do
think?
Yeah. Yeah. And invite everyone. Hold on, Gary. There is a war on, you know.
Nah, I can fix that.
Come on, let's have a little celebration.
No, not now.
No, I wasn't thinking about throwing a street party, you know.
Just a drink to mark the occasion.
What missed out?
Well, have you got any champagne?
Only the quake we keep for when Lord and Lady Astor pop in.
Well, that's all I have to do, then.
There.
To us.
To us and Donald.
And Donald.
God rest him.
Look, I really appreciate this. Couple of minutes, that's all.
Ron! Great news. You've got me out. No, me and Phoebe are getting married.
You see, Donald's been killed, so there's no need to wait.
I'm in the nick!
Well, obviously.
So just for once, I thought I might be your prior concern.
But oh no, once again, your life takes precedence yet again.
I'm sorry, I'm just so happy.
A man's dead, your best friend's in jail, and you're happy.
What's it going to take to make it a real zippity -doo -dah sort of day?
An outbreak of bubonic plague?
Well, this is charming.
I go out of my way to come and visit you. Only so you can show off about your
latest bloody conquest.
A particularly insensitive thing to do, as I am in here because my own love life
lies in tatters.
OK. Maybe I was being insensitive. I'm sorry.
Come and sit down.
I can't.
Why?
You've never been the subject of an over -intrusive strip search, have you?
What, actually?
Do you know what time you're in court tomorrow?
11 o 'clock.
It's a complete and utter travesty.
There should be some recognition of natural justice.
I caught the man with my wife.
I should be entitled to give him a slap.
Well, wrong, come on. Assaulting him with a cricket bat's a bit more than a
slap. Read the dictionary definition.
A slap to it with an open hand or something flat.
So I hit him with the flat bit.
You will be there tomorrow, won't you?
They won't give me bail unless you can provide me with a secure address.
I'll be there.
And my solicitor says they may want a surety, so bring plenty of cash. I will
do. Don't let me down, Gary.
I don't care if the whole of the German high command come into the Royal Oak for
a pickled egg. I am a prior concern.
I promise.
Well, come on, can't you congratulate me on my news?
Congratulations.
What about Yvonne?
Don't you have the slightest twinge of conscience about making Phoebe your
second wife?
Although chronologically, Phoebe will be your first wife and Yvonne will become
your second wife.
Betrayed and demoted. What a lucky girl Yvonne is to have a treasure like you as
a husband.
Look, what happens between me and Phoebe has no bearing on my relationship with
Yvonne. Now, it may sound callous, but for the sake of my sanity, I've had to
learn to compartmentalise my life.
Phoebe is in one box, Yvonne is in the other.
And currently you're in this one.
No, marrying Yvonne was just something I drifted into, you know. It's the next
logical step.
But with Phoebe, it's so much more... romantic.
Are you a cynic?
Sorry, mate, I'll have to go now.
Looks like my luck's changing.
See you tomorrow.
So, uh, you've got men and women in together now, do you?
Never.
That wasn't a woman.
On thysnicker, Vicar.
I don't think I've ever had the pleasure.
Where did you get them?
A friend of mine's got contacts at the American Embassy.
They're not Black Market or anything.
Quite a treat.
Clever chaps, these yanks. Thank God.
I mean, it's a good job they're on our side, isn't it?
How are you bearing up?
All right.
Case of having to, really.
Is there anything particular you'd like me to say about Donald at this
afternoon's service?
No. I don't think so.
Obviously, it'll be a sad occasion, but I want you to think of it not so much as
a lament for Donald's death, but a celebration of his life.
I will.
Thanks.
Hi. Just a flying visit. I'm on my way to court.
Sorry, but... Gary, this is the Reverend Pym.
Gary, the friend I was telling you about.
Ah. How do you do? Hi.
Well, you don't let the grass grow, do you?
Well, look, whatever she wants, Vicar, that's fine. Money is no object, OK?
Now, I want our wedding day to be the happiest day of her life.
Problem?
The Vicar is here to talk about Donald's memorial service.
You must let me explain. I think you've said quite enough, thank you.
Perhaps I'd better be getting along.
I'm so sorry to have embarrassed you like this.
Look, why don't you take some of these for the orphanage?
That's very kind of you.
Please, take these two. No need. No, really, least I can do.
Are these from your embassy contacts?
Oh, absolutely, yes.
The ambassador has them at all his receptions.
Well, I'll say goodbye then. I'll see myself out.
I'm not judging you, my dear.
The whole world's upside down at the moment.
How could you?
Look, we've been talking about our wedding. I saw the dog collar. I just
assumed... I'm sorry.
As if I'd be arranging our wedding on today of all days.
Surely you must realise we can't start thinking about that for ages.
Well, not for a couple of months, obviously. A couple of months?
Donald's only just died.
We'll have to wait at least a year. It's only decent.
Well, the baby's due in five months.
So? So?
I want to be married before it's born so that it has my name.
Well, I'm sorry, but I've got my reputation to think of.
Once we're married, you can adopt him. Or her. I shouldn't have to adopt my own
child. That was always the plan. When Donald was around, but now... He's dead!
My God.
You're happy he's gone, aren't you?
No. Now he's out the way, you can claim me for your own.
I never thought you could be so callous.
Phoebe, it's not like that. I'm just trying to say that things are different
now. In the eyes of the world, I'm still Donald's wife.
Now, if you don't mind, I've got to get ready for his memorial service.
So I'd like you to leave before I change my mind about marrying you at all.
Phoebe, we can...
Having listened to all the evidence, I do feel this case is sufficiently
to merit referral to the Crown Court.
Therefore, I... May I say something, please?
As long as you're quick, I'm supposed to be teeing off in 25 minutes.
I want to address my remarks to the gentleman of the press.
If someone could give him a nudge.
My presence in this courtroom makes a mockery of British justice.
I feel certain that any jury of my peers will recognise an Englishman's
inalienable right to defend his goods, chattels and misses from slimy little
rags. I haven't finished yet. Throw them off. Ron, leave it.
I'd like to make an application for bail, Your Honour.
Any objections?
No, Your Honour.
Providing the defendant can provide a secure address other than the marital
home. We also feel an adequate cash surety should be lodged with the court.
I think £500 is enough.
Ah, well, that does leave us with a small problem, Your Honour.
You see, both of those conditions were supposed to be met by a friend of Mr
Weakrock. Ah!
Mr Gary Sparrow.
Unfortunately, he hasn't arrived at the court yet.
Young H! Sorry, sorry. Bit of a problem.
I take it this is Mr Sparrow?
It is, Your Honour.
Ron needs 500 quid. Have you got it? Yep, no problem.
Damn. Damn? What's damn?
I've got the wrong wallet.
I suppose these are still legal currency in court. I'm going to kill him! Calm
down, Mr Wheatcroft.
Peter, I'm going to get my other wallet.
Yes, well, make sure you're here before five.
Otherwise, you'll have to spend another night in the cells.
I promise, I promise.
What's going on?
Donald's mum decided to bring her lot back here for a bit of a wake.
I don't think it's a good idea you being here.
No, I'm not staying long. I've lost my wallet. It hasn't turned up here, has
Well, as it happens, I did find a wallet behind the bar. Oh, brilliant.
Well, can I have it, please?
As soon as I can verify that you are the owner of the said article.
It's monogrammed GS.
You are not the only GS in the world.
Oh, sorry, yes, I was forgetting.
Gloria Swanson often pops in for a bit of light bar work, doesn't she? When it
comes to lost property, there's a proper laid -down procedure.
It's black with a silver trim.
Correct. Oh, you nearly caught me there.
What's inside it?
Well, there's a number of experimental 50 -pound notes.
50 -pound notes?
What on earth would you use them for?
Well, it must be over 500 quid there.
You could buy a house with that.
Who's this then?
It's the Queen.
That is not Her Majesty the Queen.
Anyway, if it could have anyone on it, it ought to be the King.
You are not telling me the truth, are you, son?
All right, Reg, I'll tell you the truth.
But you must promise not to tell another living soul.
They're German forgeries, Reg.
They plan to flood England with those.
Making the entire population think that King George is a transsexual.
Rubbish. King George is as British as I am.
Well, why didn't you tell me in the first place?
What else is there?
Well, there's a Barclay card. An identification card made of a sort of
cardboard.
Oh, and a note to remind me to buy a toilet roll. So far, so good.
What do you mean? That's it.
You've forgotten this little chap.
What exactly is a mate?
It's a condom, Marge.
You know, a sheath.
That's in birth control.
Yeah, big and thick and come in a box.
Not mine.
Well, and then mine, son.
Size isn't everything.
No, they're modern ones.
They fold up.
A lot.
I'm sure.
I thought I asked you not to come.
I forgot this.
Well, if you've got it, go.
Before Dolly sees you.
Dolly's heard all the local tittle -tattle about you and Phoebe. She's been
sounding off.
Oh, has she now?
I think you'd better leave it, son.
No, I want to put her straight.
How? Well, tell her it's not true.
Well, it is true, isn't it? You and Phoebe have been, pardon my French,
on.
Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'd better leave it.
All right, bye.
There he is.
There's the fancy man she's been carrying on with while my poor Donald
for his country.
Mrs Bamford, I don't think this is the time or the place.
Oh, listen to Mr Lardy Dar.
Today of all days, he hasn't got the decency to stay away.
Gary's right, Dolly. We don't want a scene.
You shut your trap, PC Claude.
Lovely bleeding war you've had with your nylons.
And your fancy chocolates. And there's a new gramophone upstairs. You didn't get
that off the ration.
Why don't you get yourself down the West End with the rest of the Piccadilly
Tarts? Now, look here. Leave it, Gary. You've got no shame, have you?
My boy was too good for you. I always said it.
I don't know how you can live with yourself the way you deceived him. For
information, Donald knew all about me and Gary.
Liar! I'm not!
He knew our marriage was a sham. The main reason he took me on was to get
from you. Either that or drink himself into an early grave, like his dad.
You made their lives a misery.
You spiteful baggage.
And you're a wicked old woman.
Donald was a kind, decent man.
Oh, God knows where he got it from.
You OK?
I ought to slap your face. Look, you've had your say. Just stop it, please.
I haven't even started.
Leave her alone. She's pregnant, for God's sake.
Gary.
Not like this.
Whose is it?
Go on. Whose is it?
It's Gary's.
You!
I'll take me home.
I can't stay in this knocking shop a minute longer.
Hoorah!
Phoebe, Phoebe!
Just relax, just relax.
The fresh air doing you good?
Oh, fine.
It was just a reaction to the last couple of days.
Yeah, well, I haven't exactly been a help, have I?
Going on at you about getting married sooner.
There's no need to worry about my reputation now, is there?
The whole world knows my business.
Yeah, and that's my fault too.
It would have all had to come out at some point.
Besides, I'd already decided he was right.
We should get married as soon as possible.
Well, I mean, I don't want to push you into it.
If it's going to make the gossip even worse.
Talk's cheap.
So is life during a war.
When I was sitting in that memorial service, it dawned on me we could all be
killed tomorrow.
We've got to grab happiness while we can.
Well, I couldn't be any happier than I am right now.
Smooth talker.
This is it.
Donald Bamford.
1919 to 1942.
Buried far away, remembered every day.
Such a waste.
What is?
This war.
I mean, one minute Donald is living with you in a pub in the East End, and the
next he's got a rifle shoved into his hand, he's shunted off to some foreign
country where it's raining snipers.
It's just a life thrown away.
Don't you say that, Gary Sparrow.
Don't you dare say his life was thrown away.
But he was so young.
So what are you saying we should do? Give up and let Hitler win?
Donald's a hero.
They're all heroes.
You're right.
Of course you are.
It's better than a headstone, isn't it?
It's alive and growing.
I wonder what it'll look like in 50 years' time.
Please, God, we'll be able to come back and see it.
Of course, we'll be old and grey by then.
You speak for yourself.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
Four o 'clock. Look, Phoebe, I'm going to have to dash.
Aren't you going to see me back to the pub?
Well, yeah, yeah, of course. We're going to have to hurry, though.
Doctor's told me to take it easy.
Yeah, I know, I know, but could you just take it easy a bit quicker?
There's a Gary Sparrow, the man who's never there for me.
I'm sorry I'm late.
How come you're out?
The prison hasn't been built back in whole dangerous Ron Wheatcroft.
I jumped one of the guards and then me and the mad transvestite went over the
wall. And the real reason is?
My ever -loving wife got her boyfriend to drop all the charges.
Well, that's great.
She told the magistrate that our marriage was a rare and precious thing
she and I owed it to each other to give it a second chance.
What's that? That is... Brilliant.
No, it's crap.
It's just a ploy so that her and her boyfriend don't get charged with wasting
police time.
The only reason she let me off the hook was because I agreed to a divorce.
And in the meantime, I've got to let her bit on the side, move into my house,
sleep in my bed, use my stuff. Ron, we've done this.
The main thing is you're out.
To what sort of life, eh?
Being taken to the cleaners by my wife in a divorce settlement and sleeping in
your spare room.
My spare room?
Oh, Gary.
You're not going to let me down again, are you?
No, no, no. No, of course not, mate. You're welcome.
Well, until Yvonne comes back.
Thank you.
Fancy a drink?
I fancy several drinks.
You wait till I tell you about the day I've had.
We'll talk about your day as well.
Why are we here?
I've had 12 pints. I need a chicken lindelook.
I want to see if I can find Donald's tree.
Because it would be amazing to think that...
Only this afternoon I saw it was just a little sapling, like that, and then a
couple of hours later I'm going to see it all... big.
You don't mind, do you, mate?
Bloody tree, where is it?
Oh, no way.
Now, this looks familiar.
I recognise that headstone.
And the steeple is there.
So, Donald's tree must be...
Oh, yes.
I found it.
Ron! I found it!
Found what, mate?
The tree!
Want to buy a pram, lady?
Gary!
Well, I know we said we'd get it together, but I saw it and I thought,
better snap it up.
It's brand new.
Where on earth did you find it?
Well, you've got to know the right people.
I can't wait to push our little baby in it.
What's this?
Oh, that's just something an engaged man would buy his fiancée.
rings. Hmm.
What? Is there something wrong with them? No. No, they're lovely.
It doesn't matter. Thank you.
Oh, right. You thought it was an engagement ring.
No. No, I didn't.
Is it all?
It's all right, Rachel. It's all right.
She's just very, very happy.
Good night, sweetheart.
Sleep will banish sorrow.
Good night, sweetheart.
Good night, sweetheart.
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