Original subtitles

Here.

Robert, just a sec.

Congratulations, Robert.

Thank you.

Well, running a London borough will be a damn sight more stimulating than this

place.

When do you go?

As soon as I can get out of my contract.

Do you see that?

Scrapes. Oh, dear.

What a dent.

Second time it's happened this month. I wish I could get my hands on whoever did

it. Well, it could be the space. People drive in, can't find any way to park.

They get jealous.

Resentful.

Got in yourself, I see.

Yes, lucky.

Two spaces allocated between four of us.

Of course, if I get the promotion... Not a chance.

Sorry, old chap. Inside information.

They're dividing the department and splitting the job.

My idea, I'm afraid.

So unless you come on a bicycle, it'll be a tight squeeze. Excuse me.

Always in a hurry, eh, Robert? Always.

I've been meaning to ask you a trivial thing.

Weren't you once a member of the MG Owners Club?

Twenty years ago, yes. Why?

Well, I've got this letter from some girl trying to

trace an old member of the club.

Well, it's been closed a long time.

Trail?

Why don't you give me the letter? I might be able to help.

Right.

I'm staying at the above address and would be very grateful for any

about the MG Club.

Yours sincerely, Jane Fisher.

What are you looking for?

The newspaper office.

Broad Street.

May I?

It's this very narrow street running off the main square.

Oh, thank you.

On holiday?

Thought of.

Do you live here?

Twenty years too long.

That's odd.

Oh, I'm looking for someone who came here twenty years ago.

What was the name?

I don't know.

Could make it rather difficult.

Yes. Oh, but not impossible. I have various leads.

Leads? Sound like a private eye.

The man drove an MG.

I rode into town on a bicycle.

Might one ask why you're trying to trace this nameless person?

I can't say. It's someone who may not want to be traced.

Sounds intriguing.

Where are you from?

Elmton. Oh, know it well.

In fact, I wonder if I can help.

Well, there used to be an MG club.

You said you rode a bike.

So I did, but a friend of mine had an MG.

Real old banger.

What was his name?

Damn it, it's on the tip of my tongue. I'll remember it as soon as you've gone.

Why don't you give me your phone number?

It's just a rented room. There's no phone.

I'm not trying to pick you up.

I'll be around.

Well, if I remember, I'll try and find you.

Good luck with the detective work.

I could be your Dr. Watson.

What's wrong?

Robert? Why do you automatically assume something's wrong?

I've never known you're home at this time before.

There's no point in flogging myself to death now that I'm leaving. I thought

do some gardening.

Relax.

I've never known you do that either.

Police are appealing for witnesses to an accident that occurred on Saturday,

July 22, 1967, between 11 .30 a .m. and 1 p .m.

The body of a girl was found lying near to a small intersection that joins

Heathside Lane with Home Farm Road.

She had apparently been knocked from the bicycle by a vehicle who failed to

stop.

The girl, Mary Wells, age 10, was found to be dead on arrival at the cottage

hospital.

Fisher.

Perhaps she's a cousin.

I always wondered if that other car saw something.

But she can't know the number.

Otherwise the police would have picked me up.

Robert? I thought I'd do a bit of digging.

Someone scraped your car.

I know. It wasn't me. I wasn't there.

Hello, Sherlock. Any more leads?

I'm getting warmer.

Really?

Why do you want to know?

Because I'm helping you, remember?

Did you remember the name of your friend?

Yes, that's why I've been looking for you.

His name is Stuart.

Was that his surname?

Stuart French.

And have you got an address?

Patience, my dear Holmes. I'm still trying to trace him.

If you find him... When I find him...

And if he remembers who owned this MG, get in touch with me here, Mr... Oh,

me Jerry.

Jane. Jane.

I must go.

I'm hoping to collect some photographs.

Including one of the MG.

Yeah, of course.

Yeah, all right, I've brought it down, I've got it here, but it's just not

possible, all right?

Don't you know what it's like down here? It's complete chaos. It's just not

going to work out.

Yeah, they've got the artwork, but there's still no copy.

Well, you're quite selling him. I'm quite selling him, so I'm blue in the

No chance.

No chance.

The painter's gone. No chance. He won't go in this week.

No.

Tell me what you've got, and I'll try and work something out here, all right?

Yeah, go on. Go ahead.

Robert! You look as if you've seen a ghost.

Young one. I have to go. Ten seconds. I'm just taking this planning sketch

the Mercury, and in the caption I'm stressing that...

Nothing's ever happened to us, but it's all been bloody well photographed.

No one could have seen the number. How the hell does she know?

She must have gone round all the wedding photographers.

Why they printed that one, I shall never know.

What is wrong?

Nothing is wrong. You startled me. That's all creeping about. I thought you

out. Oh, creep off then.

Margaret.

I'm sorry.

Please. I don't know what's the matter with you.

Oh, Ali.

I've been all churned up.

Churned up?

Yes, leaving after all these years.

Is that why you're looking at our old wedding photographs?

Well, leaving makes you think about the past.

Silly, sentimental.

No, it's not.

It's not like you, that's all.

Nor are these much.

They're different. You look with glasses.

Look at my hair.

Do you remember Rebecca?

I said I'd like one like that.

Well, pity you couldn't, Amy.

Yes.

You still haven't told me what you're churned up about.

Well, this new job is a big jump.

And although I've always been on the move here, I've been going up standing

still, if you follow me.

And... Well, you were out, and so I thought I'd remind myself of it.

Confident young man, looking forward to life's journey.

London's so different, you see. I don't know whether I'm capable of it. Of

course you are.

I think it's rather nice to see you have doubts.

Of course I have doubts.

You don't show them.

Oh, I can't afford to.

Perhaps that's why you're so successful.

I just regret the children.

Or rather, the lack of them.

I'm sorry. I know you don't like me talking about it. I know it's useless,

going on.

But it's what I feel. I do regret it. Yes, well, it was just one of those

things.

Oh, it wasn't. Of course it was. You couldn't have one.

I might have had one.

Oh, Martin. I might.

Yes, but the doctor said... What doctor?

Well, he was a gynecologist.

He said there was some internal problem caused by... I don't know what. He

explained it to you, not to me. You know more about it than I do.

Yes. But he did say that there was considerable risk to the baby and to

yourself. And I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you.

I was quite capable of having a baby. All right. As a lamb.

All I did wrong was to show my doubts and give in to them.

Unlike you.

I want to try. I still can.

Don't be stupid.

I'm not being stupid.

I'm sorry.

That was an awful thing to say.

I know how you must feel, darling, but... Do you? Yes, I do. But there's an

greater risk now.

I'll take it. Well, I won't. I want to take it. I don't want to spend another

years...

Excuse me.

Can you take this?

Yes, over there.

I didn't realise you still felt so strongly about all this.

Neither did I.

Now, why don't we go out tonight, hmm?

We could go to the windmill, talk it out.

I still haven't told you enough about London.

I know it's a daunting prospect, but it'll also be bloody exciting.

It's a far cry from trimming roses.

You're bored out of your mind here, aren't you? That's it, isn't it?

I shall miss the garden.

There are houses with gardens in London, and we'll find one, I promise.

It'll be a fresh start.

A whole new life.

Now, go on.

Get changed.

I'll be back in about an hour.

I'm not going out.

Yes, it is something I have to do. You know I can never relax when I have

unfinished business.

I'll be back.

Hello, can I come in?

I have something to tell you.

Well, I'm sorry to say, the search is over.

Oh, it is?

Yes, I know everything.

So you know the name of the man who drove the MG?

Yes, his name's Robert... Smythe.

Yes, how do you know?

My friend Stuart, who had an MG, remembered him.

Oh, well, well.

Look, I was about to have a drink to toast my hard work.

Would you like one?

Yes. OK, thank you.

Do you know, shall I tell you something funny?

After I met you, it crossed my mind that you might be him.

Did it?

Did it really?

Yes. You seemed a little too interested.

Am I the first to know you've tracked Daniel Quarry?

Yes, you are.

Thank you for helping.

I did nothing.

Well, you found him too.

Yes.

I suppose I did.

I can't bear to read the papers anymore.

Nasty work we're doing.

What have I had?

A bit.

Nice evening, though, wasn't it?

Yes.

Yeah.

Do you feel better after our chat?

Yeah.

Excuse me.

When I learnt the truth about myself, I had to try and trace you.

All I had to go on at first was your maiden name.

Then the trail broke down, until I thought of going to all the wedding

photographers to find your married name.

Of course.

My foster parents will always be mum and dad to me, and you may not wish to see

me.

But I've wondered about you so often.

It's a miracle.

A miraculous coincidence.

What is?

That we were only talking about it yesterday.

Talking about what?

Robert, I have a confession.

It's something that happened years ago, before I met you.

It was why it was so difficult for me to have more children.

I have a daughter.