All language subtitles for Any.Human.Heart.2010.E01.1080p.BluRay.DD+5.1.x264-SbR_track4_[eng]

I have this image in my head.

It's a kind of recurring dream
that I can't explain.

A boat on a river in Uruguay,
with a little boy fishing.

Am I the boy in the boat?

Or am I the observers on the riverbank?

Is this a vision of an individual life
travelling through time?

Which life is truly mine?

Which life is truly mine?
Which life is truly mine?

I'm all these different people.

All these different people are me.

All these different people are me.
All these different people are me.

I'd like to claim this as my first memory,

but that award goes to the sight of my tutor,
Roderick Poole's circumcised penis.

Logan?

Logan!

Always swim naked when you can.

Summer or winter, you'll live forever.

It's your heart, your old heart.

It gives you a kind of warning.

You have to take it easy, Logan.

I come and see you in a few days, hmm?

It's too bad you are on your own.
No family to keep your place in order.

Logan.

You all right, my darling?

What's happening to you?

Pull yourself together.

Ah, Mr Mountstuart,
you're back with us.

How long does it take to die, darling?

Can't do it, Logan.

Why am I so glad to see you,
Mr Mountstuart?

I look at you
with new eyes, Mountstuart.

Is he going to be all right?

Go to bed.

Thank God...

I'm not here to negotiate...

I see the best...

- Are you happy?
- Choose to live the life.

- Get out!
- Take the consequences.

She won't bite.

Stella, there's a nice man at the door.

I, Logan Mountstuart,
do solemnly declare that in this,

my final year at Oxford,
I will lose my virginity.

Well?

I've found her. The one.

She works in the stables.

Met her when I had my riding lessons.

Too bad for you two
if I'm gonna win the bet.

I cannot, must not,
lose this wager to Peter Scabius.

Or Ben. Never.

If Ben wins I'll become a monk.

She's perfect I tell you.

Got your money?

They may be my best friends,

but the question of my virginity
demands total, unswerving ruthlessness.

I'll look after the pot.

- Give it to Ben.
- Exactly.

Thank you, Logan.

- Hello, Tess.
- Mr Scabius.

Here we are. The Three Musketeers.

Do come in. Kettle's boiling.

- I'll make some more. Two ticks.
- I'll give you a hand.

No need, Mr Leeping. Thanks.

What do you think? Perfect, eh?

Lovely fresh pot.

Mr Mountstuart?

Thanks very much.

Do have a biscuit, Mr Scabius.

Why don't you call me, Peter, eh?

All right then. Peter.

Haven't you two got to be at a tutorial?

I feel completely disturbed.
Angry. Can't settle to anything.

It's utterly preposterous to be a virgin
at my age.

Absurd. Shameful.

I should be concentrating on my book.

I should be writing,

but thoughts of sex
keep intruding themselves.

Peter and Tess are lovers.

I can hardly write the words.

How incredibly annoying
to find oneself jealous of Peter Scabius.

He spends weekends at her cottage.
He's won the bet.

It's totally and utterly unfair.

I'm consumed with the madness
of sexual longing.

Fantasies about Tess' naked body.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

I wasn't sure if you were a proctor.
Have to be careful.

I'm impressed.

Both illegal and heretical.

You'll burn in hell.

I like that.
I've never been called a heretic before.

By the way, the best way into this college
is through the kitchens.

Low wall by the bins. Easy as you like.

- You're an undergraduette?
- How I love that expression.

Yes, at Somerville College.

My chaperone thinks
I've got a grumbling appendix.

Took me to the hospital.

I see.

Have you a cigarette?

What's your name, interesting young man?

- Logan Mountstuart.
- Land Fothergill.

- I bet you're reading English.
- Yes.

I'm writing a little biography on Shelley
at the moment, but I...

- I really want to be a novelist, actually.
- Of course you do.

Do your Somerville chaperones allow you
to meet male undergraduates for coffee?

Do be careful climbing in.

I'd hate you to have a nasty accident.

Land. Land Fothergill.

Yes, maybe she's the one.

Forget Tess, simple, comely Tess.

Think of Land.
Sophisticated, intellectual, provocative.

Peter, you won't believe it.

- I met this amazing...
- Total, absolute nightmare.

- My father's found out about Tess.
- No!

Shh!

- Jesus, how?
- She wrote to me in the holidays.

Put her return address on the back
of the envelope, Tess Scabius.

- Can you believe it?
- She's taken your name?

She says she's my sister.

Explains why I come to stay at weekends.

- You should have blamed me.
- I did, immediately, but it wouldn't wash.

My father's threatened to disown me.

- He's coming to see the Master.
- No! God.

Shh!

I can't go to the village.
You've got to go and see Tess. Explain.

Say I can't see her
until the fuss dies down.

I don't want to hurt him, Logan.

He's terrified of his father.

Terrified.

Don't cry, Tess. It'll all be fine.

He just can't risk anything at the moment.

I had to say I was his sister.

Otherwise, people would talk.

Tess, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking.

We weren't thinking.

We were all caught up in the moment.

It didn't mean nothing.

- I'd better go.
- It's forgotten.

Never happened.

No.

Never happened.

Perhaps Tess was
expressing her frustration with Peter.

Working-class girl confronting
insurmountable social barriers.

But there we were, need and opportunity.

The ingredients of all betrayals.

But Land...

Consider Land. No social barriers there.

Mere physical stimulation is not enough.

Bodies can meet,
but when minds meet as well.

No. Stop it! No, I won't allow it.

You cannot call Virginia Woolf
a lady novelist.

- She's a genius.
- She writes novels, she's female.

So, if you ever get round
to actually writing a novel

and you are described
as "Logan Mountstuart, gentleman novelist,"

you won't object?

- I wouldn't object at all.
- Liar.

You're going to have to
grow up just a little, Logan,

if you want us
to move beyond simple friendship.

- Where are you going?
- Come and see me when you're a real writer.

Land!

Bye!

Remember this, son.

It's just luck in the end.

That's all life is.

Am I staring into the abyss?
A life of perpetual virginity?

Hello, Logan.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I don't know what...
What's the problem with...

Let's try again in a minute or two.

But let's take our clothes off this time, hmm?

All the bells of Oxford
seemed to be celebrating my joy.

Logan Mountstuart,
you are no longer a virgin!

But Tess is Peter's girl.
Shame on you, Logan Mountstuart.

This must never, ever happen again.

Never, ever.

- God!

I'm your first girl, aren't I, Logan?

No.

Yes.

It's fun, isn't it?

I don't think the word "fun"
quite does it justice.

Thanks for the gin.

How'd you know I liked gin?

I like to fuck and then I like to drink gin.

And then I feel like fucking again.

Right.

The gin's a present

from Peter.

Peter mustn't know about us.

No.

No, he mustn't.

We must never tell Peter anything
about these Sunday afternoons we have.

And what we get up to. Must we?

Never, ever.

No, we won't.

Never.

Ever.

Do what you can, Logan.

Ben?

There's something I should...

What?

Nothing.

I'll come and see you in Paris.
When're you off?

Next week.

- No point in hanging around.
- Next week?

What about finals?

- You won't get a degree.
- I don't want a degree.

I've made up my mind. I don't care.

I've got to start finding artists
if I'm to open my gallery by the summer.

Nothing stands in your way.

Your father's a diplomat,
encourages a life of art and culture.

Mine's the managing director
of a meat-processing firm.

You can have no idea
how meat has dominated my whole life.

It's depressing.

Hello, what've you two been up to?

Momentous news! Miraculous!

We couldn't be happier. It's wonderful.

- It's just what I needed.
- What's going on?

You tell them, Peter.

Yesterday, Tess wasn't feeling well.
A doctor came to the cottage.

- Anyway...
- Anyway, I wasn't ill.

- I was pregnant.
- What?

When I heard Tess was pregnant,
I realised I'd been a coward,

a complete coward.

So I telegraphed my father,
told him I was getting married to Tess.

He's cut me off without a penny.

Married? You and Tess?

Congratulations!

Well.

- It's wonderful, isn't it, Logan?
- Yes. Wonderful.

- My God.
- The child's not mine.

Definitely not.

She's three months pregnant.

No, no. It's Peter's.

- I wish you hadn't told me.
- I had to tell you. It was killing me.

- Who else could I tell?
- You can not tell people secrets, you know.

Sometimes people are very grateful
not to have full disclosure.

I think Father O'Donnell is here.

Your mother keeps
bringing these bloody priests round.

She means well.

Just can't be having
with all that mumbo jumbo.

Remember this, son.

It's just luck in the end.

That's all life is.

All the good luck you have

and all the bad luck.

That's the only story.

Now you've left university,
there's a place for you at Foley's, you know.

Junior management. I've arranged everything.

- No need, Father. I'm going to be a writer.
- Yes, yes, yes, yes.

You'll have plenty of time
to write at weekends.

Promise me, Logan.

I promise, Father.

You'll have to work your way
up the ladder, like I did,

but it'll make me very happy
to think of you at Foley's.

Corned beef is going
to keep you very comfortable.

Uh.

What're we going to do without him, Mother?

Just you and me?

He very kind man, Logan.

We have a lot of money now.

I'm going to go to Paris, see Ben.

Of course, querido.

You take time.

You don't understand, I made him a promise.

A promise to my dying father.

When you are back from Paris

then you can start at Foley's.

You didn't see the look in his eyes.

He took my hand.

Don't do anything foolish.

Come and see Anna again soon.

Leave the money on the table, mon cher.

You made him happy.

That's nothing to feel guilty about.

Forget Foley's.

You've written a book! You're a writer.

Shelley, A Life. You did it.

I can hardly call myself a writer
if my book isn't published.

So what? Your writer's life has begun.

Hemingway, Logan,
there is some champagne left here.

Thank you, Cyprien.

I'm green with envy.

Thank you.

"Por mi compadre, Logan."

So, you already wrote a book?

Regrettably, no novel as yet,
just a little biography of Shelley.

Not the same.

A terrible tragedy, n'est-ce pas?

Shelley, dead at 29.

Logan, write about us French poets,
the cosmopolitans, why not?

Hemingway, give us some poetry, will you?

"And what were thou,
and earth and stars and sea,

"If to the human mind's imaginings
Silence and solitude were vacancy?"

I am fucking impressed.

Logan, we're all settled up.

I am genuinely fucking impressed.

Send me your novel, Logan. I mean it.

Cyprien.

I mean it, Logan!

I hereby resolve to leave home.

To find a flat, preferably in Paris.

To see Land again, and to write, write, write.

There's a place for you at Foley's, you know.

Always.

Most interesting, your little book on Shelley.

Reads well enough, Mr Mountstuart,

if you're happy to live
on potato peelings and small beer.

I'd prefer not to, if possible.

Then you must write a novel, immediately.

One that will gain you
more than eight readers.

I was planning one idea.

Um...

I met a woman in Paris,
a Russian called Anna,

who'd hit hard times.

She was obliged to become
a poule de luxe to survive.

I'm not familiar with the expression.

A prostitute.

Her story intrigued me.

I thought I could call it The Girl Factory.

Now Land'll see me, I know.

She'll see me for what I am.

Will recognise me at last
for someone she will be happy to be with.

Good God, Logan,
what on earth are you doing here?

- I wanted to see you again.
- Well, how lovely for you.

You can't just disappear for months
and then pick me up like some discarded toy.

I'm writing a novel. I've got an agent.

A literary agent.

There's only one way
to get on in this world, Logan.

You must believe in yourself.
Then you can do anything.

Write a great work.

One that will make people think
and may change the world.

- Then I will.
- And you will dedicate it to me?

"To my darling Land,
to whom I must always listen."

My darling Land,

to whom I must always listen.

- What's your novel called?
- I haven't got a title yet.

- When can I read it?
- When it's finished.

- I like your little flat.
- Thank you.

Needs a bit more work.

Have you got a bedroom or is this it?

It's strange to think I am now familiar

with all the singularities of Land.

Outline your emotions,
happiness and contentment.

What are your ambitions?
To be with Land every day possible.

Why?

Because...

Because I'm in love with her.

Why not?

I said we'd both go.
A weekend in the country.

- We can go for long walks, we can...
- I can't. It's my job.

Your unpaid job.

- Please, Land.
- It's a parliamentary fact-finding committee.

Oliver Lee says we need
to go to Wolverhampton

to know more about the conditions
of the mill workers.

Well, you can read about it
in the newspapers.

It's all very well for Oliver Lee,
he's a member of parliament.

It's an amazing opportunity for me
to be invited onto one of his committees.

- Well, I'll come too.
- No, you can't possibly come.

I'll be incredibly busy.

It's work, Logan. It's not a holiday.
It's out of the question.

Why not?

I'll miss you.

You've got to finish your novel, that's why.

She's got a touch of the flu.

Ah! Cat absent, mouse opportunity?

We're madly in love.

Talking of small animals,

you are meant to be using
that thing in your hands, Logan.

It's called a shotgun.

I have no desire to fire a shotgun
at a defenceless bird.

Oh, nonsense,
this is one of the best shoots in Norfolk.

- You're very lucky to be invited.
- You said a weekend in the country.

There was no...

There was no mention
of guns and killing animals.

That's because the two activities
are synonymous, you ignorant peasant.

Sometimes, Logan,

in order to get on in life,
you have to try things

you might not like at first.

I had no idea
of the stultifying, endless tedium

of these English country weekends.

The banality of the discourse.

The utter absence of culture
in our so-called upper classes.

Hello.

I'm Logan Mountstuart,
friend of Peter Scabius.

Ah, your Peter's friend. I'm Angus' sister.

- Ah, Lady Cassell, very nice to meet you.
- You mustn't call me Lady.

Heavens, no! Lottie is perfectly fine.

You're the writer, aren't you?

- Are you writing something?
- Just my journal.

You're probably writing ghastly things
about us all.

Not in the least.

I'm enjoying myself enormously.

Shall we have a drink?

- Would you like a pink gin?
- Whatever, yes.

Can't think of anything nicer.

Do you know?

I don't think I've been in this room for years.

Uh, Montevideo.

Montevideo.

Where's that?

Uruguay, in South America.

South America? Why on earth?

I was born there.

My father worked in the corned-beef industry.

Corned beef?

In fact, my mother's from Uruguay.

Oh.

Does that mean you're half Uruguayan?

Yes. It's my best half.

Excuse me, sir.
There's a telephone call for you.

Excuse me, I must take this telephone call.

Land, darling,
you would not believe how utterly revolting...

It's Wallace Douglas here.

Wallace?
My God, how did you track me here?

I thought you might like to know
as soon as possible.

I've sold your novel, The Girl Factory.
£1,000.

Congratulations.

A thousand... My God...

Thank you, Wallace. Thank you.

- I'll see you Monday.
- Congratulations.

Yes. Thanks.

Excuse me, are you Logan Mountstuart?

Isn't it amazing? Incredible?

I have a horrible feeling
this book is going to be a huge success.

The reviews are appalling,
"Depraved. A nasty little shocker."

Not good, Logan,
so don't let it go to your head.

I can do better than this, Land.

This is only the start. Watch me.

We can travel. We can live anywhere.
We can see the world together.

We'll be able to do anything we want.

"Degenerate and scandalous," says The Mail.

"Another 5,000 copies sold," says Wallace.

Like Father always said,
"Good luck, bad luck."

"Enjoy the good luck
when it comes your way."

Mr Prendergast is my financial adviser.
He explaining all of stock market to me.

If you have spare funds, Logan,
US equities are just the thing.

There are fortunes to be made over there.

He says they've foreclosed
on the 63rd Street apartment, but...

What apartment?

Mr Prendergast, he say I should
buy apartment in New York, so I buy.

Now, everything gone.

He say, "Sell," so I say, "Sell".
But nobody want to buy.

Crash, crash, crash.

I lose everything, Logan.

And I keep thinking what your father
he is saying to me?

Don't worry about Father.

I'll always look after you.

Come here.

Hello.

My God, what's happened?
How much did this cost?

Haven't a clue.

One of the advantages of earning
a lot of money, it ceases to have value.

Champagne? We are celebrating.

I had my tickets for the India trip today.
I can't wait.

Oliver Lee said we've a meeting
with Gandhiji himself.

Have some caviar, my little darling!

- Oh, no, I don't eat caviar. It's obscene.
- Land, please.

Our life is about to be filled
with champagne and caviar.

- And I'm coming to India with you.

I've bought us two tickets. First class.

You can't just come to India. I've told you.

I'm not leaving your side, my darling.

I love you, Land.

I've never felt like this before.

I love you and I want you to marry me.

I want you to be my wife.

Land, I love you...

You don't know where you're going,
do you, Logan?

You haven't the faintest idea.

Look at you, what you've become.

All you've written is trash, rubbish.

You've let yourself down.
You can't believe how disappointed I am.

What kind of an empty life are you leading?
Can't you see anything?

You all right, my darling?

You be careful, my sweet.

Land?

Oh, Mother.

My God, it's disgusting!

Take. Drink.

When love affair goes bad,
it is essential to keep your dignity.

Without dignity, you become animal.

Life must go on, Logan.

Yes, Mother.

Write a great work.

One that will make people think
and may change the world.

- Hello?
- It's Lottie.

- Oh, Lottie. Hello.
- Hello.

How lovely to hear from you.

- Are you well?
- I'm well, very well.

- I adored your book.
- Thank you so much.

- I'm glad you enjoyed it.
- Of course, I was shocked.

Yes. Yes, it is a little racy.

- Will you come and stay?
- What?

- I'm having a party.
- When?

- This weekend. Oh, do say yes, Logan.
- Yes.

Yes, I'd love to.

After the marriage,
I think you should call me Aelthred.

Thank you. Yes, Aelthred, sir.

And you must call me Logan.

Here we all are, then. To us.

The three of us. To Logan.

Good luck.

- It's amazing.
- What's amazing?

- That I'm marrying Lottie?
- Well, you didn't waste any time.

- What's the point of delaying happiness?
- It's a bloody enormous place, this.

- How many acres did you say?
- I couldn't be happier, Ben. Honestly.

A few thousand acres of Norfolk
would make anyone happy.

I'm marrying Lottie, Peter,
not a chunk of English countryside.

Uh, Lady Lottie, if you please.

Does that mean your children
will be Honourables?

I'm very happy for you, Logan. Yes, very.

Are you sure, Logan? Genuinely?

Never been more certain
of anything in my life.

Hotel Du Cap, Biarritz.

One could not wish
for a more perfect honeymoon setting.

I'm ready for marriage and married life.
I love Lottie.

I'm completely over Land, completely.

I'm going to die, I'm so happy.

Every human being
is a collection of selves.

We change all the time.

We never stay one person
as we go on our journey to the grave.

Mr Mountstuart, sir!
Mr Mountstuart, sir!

Mr Mountstuart, it's a boy! A boy!

Unto thee a son is born.
But what is happening to my life?

I feel I am losing control,
it's being taken over.

Funny-looking little chap.

- We're very happy, Logan.
- Thank you.

We'll see ourselves out, don't worry.

Night-night, Daddy.

Night-night, Lionel.

He can go to bed now, Pettigrew.

Well, that seemed to go...

Before you say another word,
there is not one chance in a thousand

- that any son of mine will be called Lionel.
- Logie, please.

Please stop calling me Logie.

No child of mine will be called Lionel,
let alone Lionel Aelthred. No.

N-O. Repeat, no.

- But it's Daddy's name and his Daddy's name.
- I'm adamant.

- Immovable.
- Look how happy he was.

Look how proud and pleased.

Think of Lionel. Think of the trust fund.

Well, I'll leave it up to you.
If it makes you happy.

Fascinating book.
Shame no one wanted to read it.

It was just something I had to write.
Something I had to prove to someone.

That no one expected
from the author of The Girl Factory.

An academic study of
obscure French poets? No.

Well, I've got an idea.
But I need to travel, Wallace. I, um...

It's... Between you and me,
I'm going a little insane.

Family life, baby, in-laws.
Not turning out how I expected it to be.

I'll happily do anything.
I just need to get away for a while, you know.

Got you.

How about journalism?

This is the best I can do at short notice.

The Illustrator,
Cities of the Iberian Peninsula.

Spain and Portugal. Ten cities.
Five guineas for a thousand words on each.

What do you think?

Perfect. I'll leave next week.

Funny,
but Lottie didn't seem at all that bothered

when I said I'd be away for a month or so.

Maybe we both need a break from each other.

Oh!

We should have your new passport ready
in five minutes, Mr Mountstuart.

Thank you so much. Thanks.

Thank you.

You're not Logan Mountstuart
by any chance?

What? Me? Oh, yes, I am, as it happens.

- How do you know?
- I work for the BBC Talks department.

We tried to book you a talk,
but your agent asked for a fee of £10!

Uh...

- Well, that's absurd.
- That's what we thought.

We had a jolly good laugh about it.

Who do you think you are?
John Galsworthy? Stravinsky?

I'll talk to him, my agent.

- Are you... Are you here on holiday?
- We were. We had a motorcar crash.

- My father's in hospital with a broken leg.
- Oh, dear.

My passport was stolen.

- In a church of all places.
- Can't trust anyone, can you?

Consul's ready for you, Mr Mountstuart.

Oh.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Um...

- Perhaps I'll see you at the BBC.
- Perhaps. If your price is right.

You're not... You're not free
for dinner tonight, are you, by any chance?

I do like getting away
from England sometimes.

- Good old pudding island.
- Are you from London?

- I was born in Uruguay, actually.
- Uruguay?

I've spent my childhood there.
I'm half-Uruguayan, actually. My mother.

So exotic!

I've never met anyone half-Uruguayan before.

Very impressed with your Portuguese.

I speak excellent restaurant Portuguese.

And I speak excellent restaurant French.

I just couldn't get on with Virginia Woolf.

The novels are so sort of airy-fairy,
if you know what I mean.

Exactly, all sort of evanescent and nebulous.

- Have you met her?
- I have actually.

- Have you? What's she like?
- Completely obnoxious.

You know, brandy is just eau de vie.
It's colourless, like water.

The colour comes from the cask.

Yes.

So, why, if you have a perfectly nice,
crystal-clear drink,

would you want to turn it brown?

What?

Ah, yes.

That's a very, very, very good point.

- I would never have thought of that.
- No.

- It's amazing.
- Amazing.

Thank you for a lovely evening.

May I... May I call on you in London?

Why?

- I've never been so grateful to a thief.
- What do you mean?

Whoever stole my passport.
I'd never have met you.

Good night.

- I'll see you in London.
- Hmm.

Why can't you work here?
You're never here.

You haven't been to church
in the last five Sundays.

You missed the Fitzwilliam's wedding.

You're my husband, Logan.
You have duties to perform.

People need to see you by my side.

I'm not here because I have to be in London.

- You're a novelist, not a journalist.
- Journalism pays very well, as it happens.

If I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind, you know.
The editors forget me.

I've got to go to meetings,
I've got to liaise with Wallace.

What's the telephone for?

You've paid this Wallace man 10%,
let him earn it.

Let him find the work for you.

When are you going to write
another book, anyway?

Ideas for books don't grow on trees, darling.

Stewing in the country,
twiddling my thumbs,

is not going to make
a very interesting novel, is it?

Use your imagination.

Isn't that what novelists are meant to do?

Life has to be encountered

with a mixture of sheer ignorance
and blind faith.

Sheer ignorance because you can't
ever know what will happen, ever,

and blind faith that this time
the roll of the dice will bring you luck.

Told you it was a nice pub, didn't I?

What was wrong with the Café Royal?
I practically live there.

I thought it was, you know, stuffy.

Full of people
rather too pleased with themselves.

You're absolutely right.

No. I'm having a much nicer time here.

When were you going to tell me
all about Lottie and Lionel?

Actually, I was going to tell you tonight.

Good.

Well, you don't need to now,
seeing as I already knew.

Right. Yes.

And it's out in the open.

- I like things to be clear and straightforward.
- Yes.

Yes, I'm actually going to be
spending more time in London.

I'm moving back to my old flat in Chelsea.

Lovely.

Freya, I...

I really...

I would really, more than anything,
like to kiss you again.

Nobody's looking.

I don't know where it's going.
It's very worrying.

Seriously, I was in Hamburg.

A perfectly well-dressed man,
but with a placard round his neck saying...

Extraordinary.
Lunchtime, in a main street in Hamburg.

I get the "I am a Jew" bit, but...

"But I will never complain about the Nazis."

Apparently, it's now illegal
for a Jewish family to have a German maid.

What next, one wonders.

Um, I'd better dash. Excuse me.

I'll see you on Tuesday, Logan.

Logan?

Land.

Land.

- You look wonderful.
- Liar.

You look extremely well.

All that success, I suppose,
your wonderful life.

So what're you up to these days?

I'm standing for parliament. Next election.

Which party?
Oh, that's a silly question. Don't answer.

That's splendid.

There you are.
My boss wants to meet you.

Freya, this is a very old friend of mine.
Land Fothergill.

Freya Deverell. Nice to meet you.

It's Lee, actually. I married Oliver.

My God. The great man himself.
I didn't know. Is he here?

Yes, there he is over there,
by the screen, with the glasses.

Well, I never.

Congratulations.
Land's going to become an MP.

She's going to try, anyway.

Lovely to meet you.

- Goodbye, Logan.
- Good luck.

I approve.

What did she say?

Uh, goodbye.

One of your early conquests?

More of an obsession, I suppose.

Wasn't reciprocated.

We ought to go
or they're going to give away our table.

I don't want supper, now you mention it.

Really? It's not like you.
You usually like a spot of supper.

Sometimes, I just don't feel like supper.

Supper can get in the way.

You're not hungry, then?

Very hungry indeed.

Gotcha. Clinging on for dear old life. Oh!

"We must never
get a bigger bed," Freya says.

I think of Lottie and our child,
and my life in Norfolk.

But I only want to be with Freya.

Time away from Freya is time lost forever.

Lionel.

Lionel.

Lionel.

Lionel, shake your rattle.

That's it, good boy.

Oh, don't go too near the fireplace.

These are for you.

What are they?

They're called bills.
More precisely, unpaid bills.

You'd better earn some money, fast.

My book's nearly done. We'll be all right.

Don't lie to me, Logan.

And before you ask,
I'm not asking Daddy for a penny more.

Who's that?

Mr Fitch. He's in my room on the first floor.

Very nice man.

All my lodgers, very nice gentlemen.

Next time you bringing Lionel with you.
I never see him.

And I never see Lottie.
Why she never come?

- Bring them with you.
- I will. I will, of course.

Mother, I was wondering,
can you lend me some money?

Just £50, and I'll pay you back in a month.

I need to buy some time, really,
and finish my book.

This is for repaint the house.

New carpets.

Now I have all these paying guests.

Thank you, Mother.

I just need a few weeks
of really hard work, you know.

Then I get the book done
and we'll be in clover again.

Of course, querido. You take time.

Back to Biarritz.

Ben has taken a villa for the summer,
invited some friends.

The novel will have to wait.

The more you drink, they say,
the browner your suntan.

Do they say that?

That sounds like a very good excuse
for drinking a lot to me.

She's lovely.

Thank you, Ben.

Thanks for your hospitality
and for your understanding.

It's very easy to understand. Easy as pie.

This little book changed my life.

Everyone had forgotten me.

Then Logan wrote The Cosmopolitans.

I owe everything to this man.

Just the credit you deserved, Cyprien.

You happy, darling?

Who wouldn't be here, now?

Nothing like the sun on your tits, I say.

Thank you, God.

Can you please, uh, let a party play through?

I am secretary of club.
We will reimburse your green fee.

Why?

Is a very distinguished personage.

English.

The Prince of Wales.

I don't see why not.

Thank you.

Awfully good of you.
Want to get in nine holes before lunch.

- Pleasure.
- Sir.

Right off you go, Freddie.

It's very kind of you
to let us barge in like this, Mr...

Mountstuart, Logan Mountstuart.
This is Ben Leeping.

Oh, allow me, sir.

Terribly good, darling.

Why don't you wait
in the clubhouse, darling?

I want to work up an appetite for lunch.

David, you must thank
Mr Mountstuart and Mr Leeping

for letting us interrupt their game.

- God, yes. Most decent of you.
- Pleasure.

Can I snaffle those matches
off you, uh, Stuart?

There you are, sir.

Come on, everyone. Bye.

Thanks again. Enjoy your vacation.

- Who is she?
- Logan, really, you're joking.

- Everybody knows who she is.
- Everybody knows except me, clearly.

She's his mistress. Mrs Simpson.

But, of course, not a whisper
in deferential old England.

The French newspapers are full of it.

His mistress?

Well, she seemed very nice.

Very dramatic features.

And very practised in the sexual arts
of the Orient, so rumour has it.

I like your friend, Ben.

I like everybody, in fact.

Old Cyprien's sweet.

Gotcha. Clinging on for dear old life.

Thank you for the dedication.
It's very kind of you, Peter.

I had no idea you were writing.

It's just a detective novel.

It's the highest form of literature,
in my opinion. To the teccie!

I may have seen the future of English letters.

Peter. Mmm.
And I thought you were in Perthshire.

I will be tomorrow.

This is Fleming.
Do you know Logan Mountstuart?

No. But I have read and greatly admired
The Girl Factory.

- I read it twice in fact. Ian Fleming.
- How do you do?

Peter and I have slaughtered
many small birds together.

Not to mention lost lots of money.
We're very bad gamblers.

- Is there another novel on the way?
- On the way, sort of.

A protracted labour, I'm afraid.

Well, it's good to have met you.

See you on the grouse moor, Peter.

"See you on the grouse moor"?

You are going up in the world.
What does he do, this Fleming?

Good question, not the faintest.

He has a superb collection
of pornography, however.

Let me walk you home.
There's something I want to tell you.

My God! How long has this been going on?

More than a year now. Tess has no idea.

- Well, who is she?
- She's an actress.

Beautiful, funny, vivacious.

I feel bad about it, but then I think
I should never have married Tess.

We were far too young.

And, of course, the child coming like that.

You and Lottie, I envy you,
your life in the country.

An earl's daughter, my God.

Still can't get over it.
Who would have thought?

Yes. No, no. I'm very fortunate.

Hello, dozy!

Got to go. I'll miss my train.

Don't go, don't go.

I want you to come and live here.

- If I do, that changes everything.
- How?

You're married, remember?

My marriage is a sham. It's empty. It's a farce.

Well, shouldn't you do
something about it, then?

I'll miss my train.

No, I don't care what anyone says.

He was a good king. God rest his soul.

George V. R.I.P.

The king is dead, long live the king.

Edward VIII.

Well, he'll have to get rid
of his American floozy now.

Why? I mean, he seems...

Because you can't have a Queen of England
who's been divorced.

- What sort of example is that?
- He doesn't need to get rid of her.

Just keep her out of sight.
Set her up somewhere discreet.

No one will know. No one will care.

- Aelthred!
- Daddy, that's outrageous!

What on earth do you mean?
He's the king now.

- He can do what he damn well pleases.
- But she's American.

We can't have an American queen.
How ghastly!

Well, I thought she was perfectly agreeable
when I met her.

When did you ever meet Mrs Simpson?

Ah, she presented a book prize.

You know, the Literary Gold Medal.

Perfectly nice woman. Very chic.

Could I have a drop more of that
delicious claret, please, Wilson?

Spain? Hmm. I know there's a war on.
Nasty little affair.

And the American news agencies

are offering jobs to anyone
who knows anything about the area.

Very generous terms. Interested?

I could certainly do with a job.
What're they paying?

$50, plus expenses.

My God! Well, that changes everything.
Is that per week?

- Per day.
- Per day?

When would they want me to go?

- Lottie, what're you doing here?
- I wanted to be with you tonight.

All that talk of mistresses
was rather exciting and I...

You know I thrash around and snore.
You won't sleep a wink.

Well, maybe we can think of something else
to pass the time. Hmm?

Lottie, there's something important
I have to tell you.

Mmm? What's that?

Um...

I, uh...

I've been... I've, uh...

I've been having...

I haven't got a preservative.

Good. I want another child, Logan.

We need another child.

Seriously, one's never enough.

Another son would be ideal.

- I can't talk about it now. I've got to go away.
- Away?

- Again? Where?
- Spain.

I've got a job. Paying fantastically well.

We'll talk about it when I get back.

We don't need to talk at all.

Please, Lottie. Not a good time.

I'd decided to tell her,
I really had, I really had, I swear.

But she started crying
when I told her I was going to Spain.

It was impossible, I'm sorry.

You're not going to do
anything dangerous, are you?

Of course not, you must be joking. Why?

Because, um...

I'm pregnant.

What?

- You're telling me...
- Yes.

My God, that's incredible.

Go to Spain, Logan, but while you're there
think about me and our child.

I'm going to have this baby.

But don't come back to me
if you're not going to stay with us forever.

- Freya, please.
- No.

Everything's changed now.

Everything's real.

Our summer is over.