Original subtitles

Robert, don't be a cuck! That's completely your decision, alright?

Stay there.

Stay there.

And make up your mind.

Darling, I don't want to... Please.

Oh,

where have you been, my long-lost love, these twenty years and more?

I come to seek my former vows you promised me before.

Thank you.

Going away such a long way.

Not so far as you think.

I don't understand.

You don't have to.

You will.

You know what we said.

But that was... suppose you...

I mean, suppose you... I shall be with you.

Sooner or later.

You won't forget that.

You need do nothing but wait.

Seeing my mother in that crowded room, I felt my unnatural promise drive down

between me and the rest of humankind.

No other way of... Giving myself could have made me feel so apart,

lost, and forsworn.

I could not have plighted a more sinister trope.

Epson 345, yes.

Who?

I see.

Oh, hello, Mrs Cameron.

Yes.

Is there something the matter?

Reported missing.

Believed killed.

I met Keith only once or twice, you know.

Oh, yes.

Of course I'll tell her.

Thank you so much for letting us know.

Goodbye.

Kathy.

That was Keith's mother.

She had some bad news for you.

He's been reported missing in France.

It appears he was shot down near Vigny Ridge.

Behind just a little grief was a complete dislocation of everything.

My parents were very kind, very sympathetic.

Though I suspect their kindness was so unstinting because they could not

regret, as a husband for me, someone they knew almost nothing about.

No doubt they hoped I would, after a decent interval, take up with someone

else.

But for years I failed to attract men.

I did not reject other lovers.

They did not appear.

Then I met William Drover.

No!

Not again!

We married and settled down in this quiet, arboreal part of Kensington.

In this house, the years piled up, the children were born, and we all lived

until driven out by the bombs of the next war.

You'll be back down on the 750, will you? Yes.

I wonder what Belmont Square will be looking like.

I wonder what London will be looking like.

Pretty terrible, don't you think?

You won't forget that Gold Coast book, will you?

Both volumes.

No, dear, don't worry.

You know, I saw Robert and Anne.

Kissing yesterday.

Where was this?

By the hammock.

I was at the bedroom window.

When does he go back?

24th.

No fun in the desert this time of year. Certainly not in a tank.

I really must look out those old snaps. I might use one or two of them in

Nigerian nights if the publishers can rise to it.

Look, we must be off. We're going to catch the 8-5. Yes, yes, yes.

I'll see to the hen run this morning. Damn foxes.

I'm taking your mother to the station.

Have a nice trip, Mum.

Take care.

If you hear a siren, run like hell. Don't be a twit. The bombing's over.

Besides, they don't come by daylight, do they?

Oh, if Mr Wood comes with a wire, hold on to him till I get back, will you?

Rightio.

Poor Tom.

Another year at school before he can get up there and start bombing the Germans.

The war isn't over by then.

No, it won't be.

It started in 1914 and it may never end.

Probably be the Russians next.

1914? What are you talking about?

It started two years ago.

The in-between was only an illusion.

A waking dream.

A waking dream.

Unreality.

The First War never ended.

Everyone's overcharged subconscious overflowed and merged.

The violent destruction of solid things.

The explosion of the illusion which prestige, power and permanence attach to

bulk and weight.

The rupture of the membrane between the this and the that.

The state of lucid abnormality.

A rising tide of hallucination.

I think you two boys could try to be more careful with that shovel.

The bruise in the wallpaper, where the china handle always hit the wall when

the boys threw open the door.

Smell of a cold.

must be back.

Still, who would post a letter through the door of a boarded-up house?

Dear Kathleen, you will not have forgotten that today is our anniversary

and the day we said.

The years have gone by at once slowly and fast.

In view of the fact that nothing has changed, I shall rely upon you to keep

your promise.

I was sorry to see you leave London, but was satisfied that you would be back in

time.

You may expect me, therefore, at the hour arranged.

Until then... K.

I will say such wonderful things to you.

There will be such wonderful things to you.

The hour arranged.

My God, what hour?

How should I... After 25 years?

Letters dropped in at doors of deserted houses do not fly or walk to tables in

halls.

They do not sit on the dust of empty tables with the air of certainty that

they will be found.

Ooh.

in London knew that I meant to call it the house today.

He was never kind to me.

Not really.

I don't remember him kind at all.

Mother said he never considered me.

He was set on me.

That was what it was.

Not love.

Not meaning a person well.

What did he do to make me promise like that?

I can't remember.

I can't remember his face.

Well, there's a dance

in Lambourne tonight.

Could you get away for that?

Yes, of course.

Why do you have to put it so apart? Well, it'll have to be the pictures

again. I want you to get the hose on that. This afternoon?

Well, what's on at the Roxy?

Who's your brother talking to? Oh, I don't know. I saw that in Cara.

What about the Odeon?

Or is that Night Train to Munich? I can't wait to be in a dogfight with the

Messerschmitts.

It won't be like that for you.

Hurricanes.

Spitfires.

Well, half past two then, all right?

What are you looking so guilty about?

What did he do to make me promise like that?

I can't remember his face.

Is Mrs. Graham in?

She's expecting you, is she?

Not exactly, but...

Darling!

It's a bad time to call.

No, but lovely to see you. You're looking well, I must say. We'd better go

upstairs.

Gina's taken over this floor.

So difficult to get anyone to do things these days.

Are you here for long?

Just a few hours. There's some things I have to collect.

And how are William and the boys?

They're fine. William's nearly halfway through his book.

Marvelous. You don't get terribly bored.

Sometimes. But it has its compensations. A drink?

Rather a late night last night, I'm afraid.

And how did you find number eight?

Dusty. And the plaster's cracked here and there.

Tell me, has Mr. McGee been coming round?

Oh, haven't you heard? No, of course not. How could you?

He had a stroke during one of the last big raids.

He was in hospital for a time. Then he went to live with his sister in Acton. I

doubt if we shall see him again.

Oh, dear.

Well, ma'am, you must give me his address so I can write to you.

Oh, sorry.

Bennett, I feel sure you couldn't smoke so much.

This is Bennett, my nephew.

I'm sure I talked to you about him.

He's staying here the night, just before he goes back to school.

Ah, that reminds me. Would you mind very much if I stayed tomorrow?

Actually, I hardly smoke at all.

They say everyone's smoking more now.

I took a bath.

I'm going out later.

Well, where will you eat?

I expect I'll pick up something at a corner house.

I didn't know you had visitors.

As a matter of fact, I didn't even know you were in.

But everyone seems to be in today. Well, so long as you don't starve, he's very

independent. And I suppose everyone is these days.

Well, I'm glad at least you're not alone here.

I scarcely ever am.

This is my only room in the house. And even then, as you see, Bennet comes in.

That was Gina who opened the front door.

Oh.

Who is she?

She used to be Anthony's secretary.

But she wanted to come up to London to drive a car for the war, so he said she

could stay here.

The house was shut up at the time.

So when I came back, it seemed to be...

Quite hers.

There's a couple downstairs, but they're quite independent.

They're supposed to be caretakers.

They have a policeman's son, and I know he sometimes sleeps somewhere up at the

top of the house.

They have a schoolgirl daughter, too. And I know she comes in when I'm not

here.

Caretakers are so difficult to get these days.

Has anyone else had access to the houses since his stroke?

McGee?

There didn't seem much point in a caretaker.

Well, everything's in such a state.

You'll never know what's going to happen next.

So no one could have been into number eight in our absence?

Why'd you ask?

I... I just had the feeling that someone had been in there.

There's been quite a lot of that.

Still, you've got everything in Berkshire, haven't you?

Oh, yes.

And it isn't as though anything had been... taken.

There's a strange atmosphere here.

It's remorseless.

The futility of the blackout on a moonlit night in London is laughable,

you know.

London is like the moon's capital.

Shallow, cratered, extinct.

You don't know who's alive or who's dead.

You live in a state of permanent suspension.

Do you know what I mean?

Yes, I think I do.

I'll tell you another thing.

People have been having the strangest dreams.

I know I have.

Strange, deep, intense dreams.

I've never dreamed like it before.

Can I answer it for you?

No.

Aren't you working anymore?

Indeed I am.

Blythe's spirit at the Piccadilly. Oh, wonderful.

I've closed West End apart since that Sheridan fiasco in 39.

I did a northern tour with a masquerade crowd in April. Needed the money,

darling, to be frank. Oh, what a bore.

It rained the whole time.

Can you imagine playing Lady Bracknell to an audience of Methodist school

teachers in Halifax?

But the high point was Nottingham. There can't be more than a dozen in the house.

You know, in America, they say we bombed, meaning that we flopped. You

know, we bombed in Boston, that sort of thing.

It feels wrong, my being here.

Anyway, it's starting to get me down.

I think it would be better if your wife had the place to herself.

As far as I can see, she means to stay here.

Of course it would be a help.

I'm writing to you.

Sorry.

Shall you be going out?

Why?

If not, might I have your key?

Why not ask your aunt?

She's got someone there.

What's the matter with you?

Have you got a date or something?

No.

I just want some food from some place.

There are quite a lot of people standing about.

Couples.

This must be quite a place.

Do you suppose they go into empty houses?

No, they're all locked up.

What's the good of that?

I don't see.

They're property.

So there we were in Nottingham, bombing away to a handful of stony-faced

aldermen, when we were bombed.

I'd just done the handbag bit when crash, the back wall of the theatre fell

in. Lucky it was such a small house or there would have been casualties.

Lots of them.

I'd got to the ordinary decencies of family life when suddenly I was looking

at the moon through a haze of brick dust.

That was the first and last night of our Nottingham run.

A merciful release, I would say.

I thought they were taking the iron railings away from the square.

I suppose the place will patch up.

Anybody can have it as far as I'm concerned.

You can't get to anywhere from here.

Hadn't you better push off?

What about the key?

Oh, all right.

One o'clock.

Here is the news.

In North Africa, the struggle for... Run along.

General Auchinleck, commander of the Eighth Army, says he is confident that

Rommel can be driven from Cyrenaica in a matter of weeks.

Goodbye, darling.

Give my love to William and the boys.

There's something talking only about myself. How do you find things here?

I really am very happy, you know.

Do you think we shall see great changes?

In the Ukraine, von Rundstedt's army corps has been active in the vicinity of

Kiev. and large numbers of Russian prisoners are reported.

It was a quiet night at sea with only two British vessels torpedoed.

One of them, the 19,000-ton hospital ship Galicia, formerly of the Cunard

passenger fleet.

Loss of life is said to be minimal.

I want these put somewhere for me till the end of lunch. They are three

eggs.

Eggs! How good, how kind, how thoughtful.

I can't tell you what a difference they'll make. And you brought them with

you all the way on the train.

this table will be terribly small for four.

just think if one of Eric's sweeping gesticulations I do hope they'll be all

right but at least they'll be quieter with the hats and things.

have you noticed how crowded everyone is?

I'm glad the others are late.

the only men one likes now are always late.

Kathleen I don't know how I've managed without you.

Whilst there's just you and me, there's so much to say.

For instance, can you tell me what's become of the Hickneys?

No, I'm afraid I've no idea. I know they're somewhere in Berkshire or

Wiltshire. They're not by any chance anywhere near you.

Oh, well, never mind. Tell me about yourself.

Actually, I've received a rather curious letter.

Note, really.

14th of August.

That's today.

Dear Kathleen, you will not have forgotten that today is our anniversary

and the day we said. The years have gone by at once slowly and fast.

In view of the fact that nothing has changed, I shall rely upon you to keep

your promise.

I was sorry to see you leave London, but was satisfied that you would be

back in time.

You may expect me, therefore, at the hour arranged.

Until then, here.

You need do nothing but wait.

Please, who is he? I shall be with you.

Cathy.

He's been reported missing in France.

He was shot down near Vimy Ridge.

Wait. Cathy.

Cathy. Cathy.

Do nothing but wait.

We are arranged.

Until then, Kay.

Who is Kay?

Keith Cameron.

A young man I once knew.

He was a pilot in the last war.

I last saw him in 1916.

How extraordinary.

What's this about our anniversary, the day we said?

I think he said, I will be with you in 25 years, exactly, whatever happens.

Oh, look, there's Eric.

so sorry I was kept.

Kathleen how have you been?

oh isn't she looking radiant.

we've been having the most tremendous talk.

tell me how do you think the war's going?

oh you mustn't ask him things. he's doing the most frightfully secret work.

well as ponson is even later than I am it probably means he's going to be

pretty late.

I propose not waiting for Ponsonby.

Shall we order?

Who is Ponsonby?

Oh he's only been about.

He's an expert.

He's very interesting.

He could be.

He was at one time.

He's not supposed to be interesting.

I'll walk over the grouse I think.

Kathleen's brought me three eggs from the country, and she wants to know about

everything.

Oh, tell me, is it true that in the country there are no cigarettes at all?

Oh, there are some sometimes, but I don't smoke. Oh, you don't smoke?

Oh, how lucky you are. That alters everything, doesn't it?

I got my usual hundred this morning from my regular man, but those are going to

have to last me until Saturday. I don't seem to be able to cut down somehow.

Mary, have you cut down?

I've got my own, if that's what you mean.

I've just got 20 out of my hairdresser. They weren't cheap either, but then...

These days, people pay big money for little bunches of flowers.

Tell me your news.

Not that I'm asking, of course.

I don't think anything has happened to me or anything else has happened that

you wouldn't know about.

I'm sorry.

Do you think we might borrow your pepper?

We don't seem to have any.

Of course.

Thank you so much.

When I say happened, I mean happened, of course.

I went out of London one night.

Everywhere outside London seemed to me to be very full.

I must say, I was very glad to get back.

Eric, the waiter's trying to tell you there's no more of that wine on Cara.

Well, bring it in the bottle, then.

I wonder how much longer.

Oh, my dear, so do I. It doesn't bear thinking about.

Where we were dining last night, they'd already scratched several numbers off

the wine list. Oh, which reminds me, Edward sends his love.

Oh, how is he? What's he doing now?

Well... I'm not strictly supposed to say.

Oh, Eric.

I asked Kathleen. She doesn't know where the Hickneys are. I don't know that it

matters.

Oh, don't be inhuman.

You know you're not.

I must say that I like London. Now, a lot of those people have left.

Oh, not you, Kathleen. We all miss you and William very much.

Why don't you come back?

You've no idea how nice it is.

Oh.

Mona moved out almost at once and moved in on Isabel.

But the bad thing about that is that Isabel wants her husband back.

And Sylvia's taken up with a young man, so Mona can't move back into her own

flat. And in any case, you've taken on all those hens, haven't you?

Yes, but we've taken on evacuees as well.

Oh, we don't want to talk about those, do we?

No more than you want to hear about the bombs.

I think we should make it a rule that we don't bore each other.

Oh, Ponsonby.

Who's that man I saw you with last night at the Meunier?

That was a chap called Odgers.

We were talking shop.

I think that's a nice place, don't you, the men here?

I mean, I always think they do veal frightfully well there.

Or don't you?

Poor Kathleen, you must be absolutely dazed.

When you get home, will people ask you things?

You know what's worrying me?

That waiter I gave Kathleen's kniceps.

No one knew of our arrangement.

Keith's and mine.

Except Keith and I.

And he's dead.

So that just leaves me, doesn't it?

Imagining things.

Yet here's the letter in my hand.

And there was someone in the house.

Do you need to go back there?

Well, yes, I've got to pick up this and that, and William won't thank me if I

don't get the books he needs. Oh, bother, William.

What's the hour arranged?

I don't remember.

Are the things handy?

Would only take about five minutes.

Well, I suggest we take our courage in both hands and go over there right away.

Mary.

Do you believe it? Kathleen, I was at the Café de Paris when it was hit.

Half my friends were killed. One minute they were dead and dying.

You remember Snake Hip Johnson's band?

Well, the last thing I remember before I fainted was a musician with half a pane

of glass sticking out of his back. He was lying on his side, still holding the

clarinet, with his fingers spread out all over the stops.

I've never seen anything so dead.

I don't believe in spirits.

Just back and forth, back and forth in a cloud of dust.

I just wish it could be over, so I could come home and start living.

Don't you ever get frightened out there?

Frequently.

And yet I have this mad conviction that I'm not going to be killed.

That I'm going to come out of the war alive.

What will you do?

Marry you.

No, I mean a job.

University or what?

Read history, perhaps?

I've always liked history.

The funny thing is, it's history I'm living out there in the desert.

It's all so squalid and trivial.

Perhaps it's always like that.

But this is history, too.

What happens at home?

More so, in a way.

I suppose even now there's someone writing a book about the Blitz, trying

to capture the atmosphere of London in the blackout.

You will marry me, won't you?

Of course.

No matter how long we have to wait?

I promise.

But don't get killed.

Is there much to collect?

Just some books and records.

Is that the lot? Nearly. I'll just find something to put them in.

I think that's everything.

I'll lock up.

You go and get a taxi. Quick!

Yes, I think there used to be a rank on Belmont Street. I won't be a moment.

Help!

Help!