All language subtitles for the chalk garden - 1964.eng

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Excuse me. Would Mrs
St Maugham live here?

- She would.
- I'm sorry, I...

came in answer to the advertisement.

There's no need to be sorry.

At least, not yet. Come in, please.

Oh, goodness me.
It's very grand, isn't it?

Built like a fort. It has to be.

Pardon me, but are there many others?

- You're number six.
- So many?

Numbers one to five have already left,

or rather fled.

Oh, dear. The mistress
must be very hard to please.

True. But, in fairness, the other
ladies didn't really want the job.

- Why not?
- Because, er...

let us say this is a nervous age.

- Oh.
- Sit down, please.

- (DOORBELL RINGING)
- Excuse me.

Good morning. I should
like to see Mrs St Maugham.

Do I have the wrong house?

I'm sorry, madam.

Mrs St Maugham is interviewing
applicants for a position here.

- For a moment I thought...
- That's why I've come.

For the job as governess?

Is there some objection?

Er... f-forgive me. No. (CHUCKLING)

- Your name?
- The name is Madrigal.

And yours?

Er... Maitland.

You've done such work before?

Do you usually interview
applicants in the doorway?

Er... I'm sorry.

Please, come in.

This way, please.

Forgive me for staring at you.

Why did you?

Well, um...

you're not the usual thing
in governesses, are you?

Are you the usual thing in servants?

I'll tell Mrs St Maugham you're here.

Please sit... down.

They say five have left already.

Really.

There must be something
terribly frightening in this house.

That sounds like a
perfect description of me.

Good morning, ladies.

I presume you're both
here for the interview?

Good morning.

Are you the young lady
who requires a companion?

I never shake hands. It's so animal.

Please, be seated.

Now, what are your qualifications?

Twenty years' experience.

What kind of whisky do you like?

Oh!

Well, if I had my choice, I'd...

I'd take nothing.

- Nothing less than a double, eh?
- (NERVOUS LAUGH)

But I suppose you'd have
endless patience with me.

APPLICANT: I'm so fond of young people.

I set fire to things.

I intend to burn the house down one day.

Perhaps today.

- Could you prevent me?
- Well, I...

Maitland could, but he won't.

He's a pyromaniac himself.
Did seven years for barratry.

Barratry?

Arson at sea.

Oh, dear.

I'm not permitted alone, except
in the garden or on the beach.

Grandmother's rules.

- Such lovely weather for the beach.
- (SEAGULL CRYING)

If you don't mind sharks.

I told a former governess
of mine there were sharks.

She said I made them up.

One day she was eaten by one.

Ugh. Poor shark.

I see.

You live with your
grandmother. She must love you.

She calls me her little immortality.

She expects me to tell the
world about her when she's gone.

I just might do it.

Have you no mother of your own?

Only legally.

She married again for love.

It's given me an adolescent
repugnance to her.

My case is Freudian.

What are your qualifications?

I prefer to wait for Mrs St Maugham.

Where do you live?

In my room.

How do you take to me?

You're not what I'm used to.

I'm fond of painting. Can you paint?

What I can't do is wait much longer.

Oh, she'll come. Grandmother will come.

She's in the garden.

She's a great gardener,
but nothing grows for her.

Mrs St Maugham will ring when
she's ready for the interviews.

I've laid the fire, Miss
Laurel. Do you wish to light it?

See?

- Did you use plenty of paraffin?
- Half a gallon.

- 'Tisn't enough.
- It's all that's left.

Oh, well. It'll have to do for a start.

But later, Maitland. I'm busy now.

Your grandmother would
prefer you to be busy elsewhere.

She's probably right.

No point in terrifying the applicants.

But don't be discouraged, ladies.

You'll find things can warm
up here quite suddenly.

Er... during the interview,
ought we to be together?

One of you ladies may wait
in the living room if you prefer.

Oh, let it be me.

I have nothing to do but wait. Really.

I'll gladly wait in here.

When you're ready, just call.

She's a little light-fingered.

What, that one?

No more than a box of
matches or a magazine.

- Well, do you know her?
- No.

But I've met those
hands before many times.

Oh.

(FRONT DOOR CLOSING)

She won't be back.

- What are you doing?
- Locking the door.

You're not going to escape so easily.

If you get away, I shall end up by being
governess as well as everything else.

With no time for barratry?

Oh, that's my recreation.

We prefer these not to light.

The child uses them too frequently.

The child's outlandish.

This is an outlandish household.

You may just find it to your liking.

Because I'm outlandish?

Unusual. Emphasise it.

Mrs St Maugham cherishes the unusual.

After all, I'm here.

(BELL TINKLING)

The lions are calling for a Christian.

Oh. So this is our first applicant?

The seventh, actually,
madam, and the last.

The others have taken to the hills.

Oh. Doesn't leave us
much choice, does it?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll
have to hurry to have lunch ready.

Hurry, Maitland, is
the curse of civilisation.

The fact that I hurry, madam,

gives certain people the leisure
time to make such observations.

Insolent man.

I suppose you're
wondering why I tolerate him.

Because he amuses you?

Fortunately, he hasn't
much time for that.

He has too many other duties.

He does them insufferably,
but he does them.

Will you please sit down?

Now...

what questions do two total
strangers put to one another?

The name is Madrigal.

And what experience have you?

I have never applied for
such a position before.

And why did you apply to me?

Your advertisement tempted me.

I have been somewhat alone.

You will be able, I suppose,
to give me references?

References would be difficult.

In fact, impossible.

Really?

Then perhaps you would like to
ask me questions, Miss Madrigal.

Does one have a room to oneself?

Life without a room to
oneself is a barbarity.

Is this a quiet house?

Absolutely.

(SCREAMING)

(SHRIEKING)

(CHUCKLING) That's
my daughter's child, Laurel.

- (SCREAMING)
- She's so fond of screaming.

We met earlier.

- Did she say anything?
- Nothing of consequence.

Something about a governess
being eaten by a shark.

- (LAUREL SCREAMING)
- (LAUGHING)

That's only what she would like
to see happen to a governess.

Anything to make a drama.

When she wants the centre of the
stage, you cannot take it from her.

(SCREAMING)

MRS ST MAUGHAM: It's
rather early for her to be lighting it.

(SHRIEKING)

You encourage this?

It would be far worse to discourage it.

(SCREAMING)

She's plagued with a compulsion
to burn down the house.

However, we're curing that

- with a sly psychological trick.
- What is that?

Every day, we're making
the fire smaller and smaller.

She hasn't noticed.

One day, it won't be there.

Do you see?

I see.

You study her as if you're
seeing something I don't.

I am.

I see myself at that age,

as if I were looking
at an old photograph.

I suppose that's your way of
saying you're qualified to care for her.

Well, perhaps you are,
but her mother wasn't.

Where is her mother?

Unfortunately, she'll be here
in a few days to try to take her.

And shouldn't she?

That should be the worst
possible fate for the child.

Her mother married a second time.

And the child is alienated,

because a love life has
broken out again in her mother.

You put it well.

Exactly.

The child was frenzied.

When nothing would stop the wedding,

she ran from the hotel into the dark,

and by some extraordinary
carelessness was attacked in Hyde Park

at the age of 12.

It's upset her nerves.

Now, we spoke of references.
Who will speak for you?

No-one will speak for me.

Oh.

Well, in that case, the, er...

interview is over.

I would not wish to waste your time.

Come. I'll walk with you to the gate.

Do you know anything about gardens? I do.

But, this year, it's been going badly.

Nothing I do for it does
any good. Just look.

Nothing but grass and trees.
The flowers won't grow for me.

I tell you, when a
flower dies in my garden,

it hurts me as if a dear friend had died.

I should think, as one grows older,

death would seem more natural.

Natural? The closer one gets,
the more unnatural it seems.

In that case, a garden
should be a good lesson.

- Why?
- So much dies in it,

and so often, yet it goes on.

Well, it's not a lesson
I look for, but a garden.

I've tried everything. Extract
of humus on the seedlings...

Extract of humus is
too rich for seedlings.

What?

It leads them on to expect
what life won't give them.

The soil needs the early actinic rays.

Exclude the sun again at midday.

Counteract the high lime
content in your soil with potash.

Where did you learn about such things?

I was put in charge of a garden once.

I will accept that as reference
enough, Miss Madrigal.

You shall have the position
of governess to Laurel.

- Thank you.
- But, I warn you,

Laurel is mine.

If she goes back to her mother,
you are dismissed immediately.

Well, I suppose you know all about me.

Not yet.

Shall I get the book that explains me?

Some rainy day.

What else are you interested in?

I mean, apart from
yourself and my belongings.

What I don't like is to be questioned.

I agree with you there.

And I don't like to be agreed
with. I prefer a good argument.

More stimulating.

And I don't like to be
read to, unless I suggest it.

And every morning I
don't like, "Good morning!"

What is a good morning to someone
else is rarely a good morning to me.

You must have had a
good many lady companions.

Legions of them.

And I presume you got rid of
them whenever you felt like it.

My record is three in one week.

How did you manage that?

I exposed them.

Oh? In what way?

Everyone has something in their past.

Some... dark and terrible secret.

I find it out, and tell
it to my grandmother,

who has a positive horror of scandal,

and you start packing again.

What if I were to expose you first?

Try it.

You'll find I have no secrets.

I'm the only perfectly frank
person I've ever known.

Very well. Be frank about yourself.

Not on your first day.

By tomorrow, someone
else will have told me.

All right.

I'm not to be trusted.

I steal things. I cheat at cards.

I make up dreadful lies about
people, and then I blackmail them.

Is that all?

That's not much.

Here's the perfect place
for your family portraits

or pictures of your loved ones,

if you have any.

What else do you occupy yourself with?

Murder.

Maitland and I share that interest.

You see, he killed his wife and child.

So, bit by bit, he and I are collecting
the Great True British Crime series.

You're not interested in fiction?

No. Real murder.

I know all there is to know
about the criminal mind.

Why do you come here?

I have to do something with my life.

Well, I give you fair
warning, Miss Madrigal.

Exposing you will be the most fun of all.

You're wonderfully odd.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(SEAGULL CRYING)

May I see?

It isn't finished yet.

Do you mind if I talk while you draw?

Not if you talk about
what I want to hear.

What would that be?

Where you were before you came here.

What you did for a living.

I had private means.

But I'd much rather talk about you.

Do you like living with your grandmother?

Do you love her?

Love her?

I never really thought about it.

You should.

"Love" is the most important
word in any language.

From love comes happiness.

You talk easily about love and
happiness, but you never smile.

You're right.

You're absolutely right.

You're beautiful when you smile.
You should smile more often.

Is it finished?

(SIGHING) Yes.

But it isn't my best work.

I'll show you mine.

You're quite accomplished.

Now yours.

I don't think you'd like my drawing.

Oh, come on, Laurel. I want to
see how much instruction you need.

It's wonderful.

Do you really think so?

Far more imaginative than mine.

Thanks for the compliment,

but don't expect
anything in return for it.

(OWL HOOTING)

(OWL HOOTING)

(CREAKING)

(CREAKING)

(CREAKING)

(CREAKING)

Laurel?

Laurel, darling.

Did you think Mother'd forgotten you?

You know better than that, don't you?

It's just that Mother's been so busy,

trying to keep the house
pretty and happy for you.

You know how Mother loves you.

Of course you do.

She loves you more than any
little girl in the whole, wide world,

more than any other person alive.

If anything ever goes wrong,

or if you just feel like
crying for no reason at all,

you know I'll always be here,

to put my arms around
you, hold you, protect you.

You know all that without being told.

So now Mother's going
to read you to sleep,

with a beautiful, beautiful story.

It's all about a good little girl
who thought nobody loved her.

Can you imagine anything so silly?

Now...

"Once upon a time,
hundreds of years ago,"

"when people lived
in great stone castles,"

"and dragons roamed the earth..."

How dare you open my
door without knocking!

I did knock, Laurel.
You forgot your milk.

And how did this thing get in here?

I told you to get rid
of all my old dolls!

Apparently, I forgot this one.

It's that new governess.

That Miss Madrigal. She's
the one. She slipped it in here.

Trying to soften me.
Trying to break me down.

But I don't break. I don't crack.

- I'm hard.
- Harder than the doll, I'm afraid.

Well, perhaps I can mend it.

Who cares?

Get it out of here. I
never want to see it again.

You think about it.

Perhaps you'll think of
some child who really needs it.

Good night, Laurel.

Is there anything I should do?

No.

No, she'll be all right.

- Good night.
- Good night.

(SOBBING)

You are aware, Miss Madrigal,

that, according to
Miss Laurel's timetable,

the moment has come
when I should discharge you.

Shall I start packing?

Well, I must say,

she's given me a very
sinister portrait of you.

Sinister?

She says you pace your room at night.

In her words, "like a caged animal".

Anything else?

Let me think. Oh, yes.

Yes, she says all your
things are brand new.

Clothes, shoes,

many of them still
bearing the original tags.

She says you keep your
door open at all times,

and you haven't a single
picture of a loved one

on your dressing table.

I have no loved one.

Well, according to Laurel,

it all adds up.

To what?

That you're running away from something.

That you've just escaped
from a lunatic asylum.

That could explain my being here.

How do you explain it?

The new clothes? Pacing my room?

I don't.

Everything she's told you is the truth.

The truth?

We're making progress.

I congratulate you.

I'm not discharged?

Certainly not!

I don't take instructions from the child.

That seems to work both ways.

Oh, don't be deceived, Miss Madrigal.

I shall make something out of
her yet, in spite of her mother.

And what did you make of her mother?

Do you try to provoke me?

Not at all.

But it would help me to know
the child if I understood the mother.

Well, I can be of no
assistance to you there.

I don't understand her myself.

I gave Olivia every advantage.
Background and breeding.

And she threw it away
for a passing infatuation.

You mean the man she's married to?

Don't speak to me of him.

Confine your attentions here to Laurel.

And the garden!

It's shrivelling up before my very eyes.

MADRIGAL: This is a chalk
garden, Mrs St Maugham.

You are trying to grow flowers in chalk.

It's not the soil.

It's the wind from the sea, the salt.

They have been in pure lime.

Not so much as a little leaf mould.

They could have compost
or peat moss or soil food,

but nothing in the world
has been done for them.

Have you time, Mrs St
Maugham, before death,

to throw away season after season?

Of course, of course. I
know time is important, but...

Your flowers need nourishment,
something to grow on.

Your soil can't give
them what it doesn't have.

Then you give them what they need.

You're in charge of my garden.

Am I?

I wasn't sure.

I'll do my best, Mrs St Maugham,
to help you with your garden.

And the child.

Their problems are similar.

Good morning, Laurel.

I told you I could tell

whether a morning was
good or not for myself.

I wanted you to know how
I felt about the morning.

Won't win any prizes.

I thought you'd be packing by now.

The charges against me have
been dropped for the moment.

Insufficient evidence.

Oh?

Well, I'll have to
manufacture some, then.

I'm quite capable of that, you know.

I'm sure you are.

- (SEAGULLS CRYING)
- Oh, what a lovely spot.

Is this where the shark
ate the governess?

Somewhere along here.

What date was that?

I'm not a walking almanac.

You have no date
because it's pure fiction.

Laurel, people who live on fantasy

usually do so because they're
afraid no-one cares for them.

Now then, today I'm going to read.

Can't you remember anything?

I don't like to be read to.

Then you read to me.

Stuffy. I can tell by the cover.

What's it about?

It's about a little girl
very much like I was.

A girl who has everything
except the one thing she wants.

And what's that?

A friend.

Well, I must go and tell Maitland

he's forgotten to lay the bonfire.

He didn't forget. I told him not to.

Never again.

You don't know what I'm liable to do.

I know.

You're liable to set fire to the house.

Go ahead.

Well, this is hardly the moment.

You've been telling everyone
you're going to burn it down.

Do it!

I don't just do these
things to order, you know.

That's another thing.
I never take orders.

And you never burn down houses.

And let me tell you
something more about yourself.

You like being told how terrible you are.

You'd like to shock the whole world

for just one reason.

So that someone in it
would know you existed,

and make you do what you should do.

And what's that? Stop hating people?

Who do you hate,
Laurel, besides yourself?

Everyone. My mother, most of all.

I, too, hated my mother.

I should say it was my stepmother.

Oh, that's just an
ordinary sort of hatred.

Mine's more special.

Why?

Because my mother's a Jezebel.

She's so overloaded
with sex that it sparkles.

She's golden and striped,

like something in the jungle.

You sound proud of her.

Oh! How could you be
expected to understand?

Here. I'll read your silly old book.

Anything's better than talking to you.

Page one, chapter one.

"Dainty little Daphne,
only four years old,"

"smiled with childish glee"

"as she picked up a hatchet"

"and nimbly chopped her
governess into many small pieces."

"Then, bounding up the
stairs to her mother's room..."

She'll be here tomorrow, you know.

Who will?

Your mother.

Oh?

I wasn't informed.

Well, I'm not interested.

What she does has nothing to do with me.

I see.

Now, suppose you begin again.

The original version this time.

I suppose I'll have to.

You're the boss, aren't you?

Yes.

"It was a lovely summer's morning."

"The cathedral bells tolled harmoniously"

"over the great and fruitful valley."

"Ding-dong, ding-dong."

Oh, Maitland, one thing more.

Don't greet Miss Olivia too effusively.

I want her to understand
that her comings and goings

do not disturb us in the very least.

Not too effusively.

(TYRES SCREECHING)

(CAR DOOR CLOSING)

(DOORBELL RINGING)

(DOORBELL RINGING)

- (DOOR OPENING)
- MAITLAND: Welcome home, Miss Olivia.

OLIVIA: Maitland, how good to see you.

- Now tell me-Where's Laurel?
- MAITLAND: I think she's up in her room.

And your mother is in the drawing room.

Mother.

Olivia, my girl.

Now...

Let me look at you.

Yes, I'm pregnant.

I'd no idea.

A little surprise.

You're so healthy and
tanned, in spite of it.

Mother, how's Laurel? Where
is she? Has she changed?

Ask about me, Olivia. Ask about me.

I do. I would.

All I can seem to say
is Laurel, Laurel, Laurel.

Where is she?

Tell me about her.

Does she ask about me?

What does she feel about
my coming to see her?

Mother!

At my age, I've earned
a drink in the afternoon.

That's not what I meant.
You haven't answered me.

Where's Laurel?

You know, you shouldn't wear
beige with your skin that colour.

So, we take up where we left off.

Laurel is happy here. Why
don't you leave her alone?

Because she's my daughter, not yours.

Did you wear the scarf
on purpose to annoy me?

What you wear is a language to me.

Does it never become possible to
talk as one grown woman to another?

Not so long as you refuse to grow up.

Please. I don't want
to fight old battles.

I just want to see my daughter.

(BELL TINKLING)

Yes, madam?

Tell Miss Laurel her mother is here.

Very good, madam.

Why do you come here now?

- Why try to see her now?
- Now? But I always want...

But you're going to have another child.

This child's the unknown.
Laurel's my daughter.

That's why I want her now, before
I begin to love the baby too much.

So, when it suits your
convenience you want her.

You want to take her,

who came to me, who ran to me

as an asylum from your indifference.

It was not indifference.

It was a difficult and
painful thing to do.

I tried to explain, but you
wouldn't let her read my letters.

You never even let
her meet the man I love.

- The man I married.
- You deserted her.

You left her in the ruins of a
marriage, a marriage I made.

- For you, not me.
- You left her.

You left your husband.

You drove him to his death.

You lie!

I had nothing to do with it.

Oh, Mother,

of a thousand thousand
rows between you and me...

And this not, I know, the last one...

Be on my side.

Oh, for once be on my side.

Help me.

How dare you ask that.

You, who've hated and
fought me every day of your life,

scorned my principles,

scoffed at my ideals,

ripped decency to shreds.

How dare you even set foot in this house,

- let alone try to take Laurel back.
- (FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

MAITLAND: (DISCREET COUGH) I'm sorry.

I've looked for Miss Laurel.
She's not in her room or...

Then get Miss Madrigal to help you!

Find Laurel and bring her here.

Yes, madam.

(CLATTERING)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Well, that's the last of
her usual hiding places.

Isn't there anywhere else?

You know as well as I do,

she won't be found before
she wants to be found.

Then, she'll be quite
impossible to avoid.

You give up easily.

You wouldn't conspire to keep
Laurel from her mother, would you?

Miss Madrigal, you and I
want the same thing for Laurel.

Her happiness, wherever it takes her.

Yes, of course. I'm sorry.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Well? Is she coming?

We can't find her
anywhere, Mrs St Maugham.

I see.

- Do you think...
- This is Laurel's mother.

This is Miss Madrigal,
Laurel's governess.

How do you do? Do you think
something's happened to her?

It's not likely. She's
a resourceful girl.

She'll probably pick her
own time to present herself.

She likes to make a good entrance.

Yes, now you're both dismissed.

No, wait. I'd like to
hear more about Laurel.

Some other time. They have other duties.

Please, please, get on with them.

Laurel has good instincts.

I think, in the end,
they will serve her well.

Miss Madrigal, I did not
engage you as a fortune-teller.

(DOOR CLOSING)

- She was only being kind.
- Yes. She pities you.

Because it's quite
obvious to everyone else

that Laurel can't stand the sight of you.

I don't believe that. I won't.

I don't even believe she knows I'm here.

I think you've hidden her, miles away.

No, she's running from
you, as you ran from me.

A family trait.

Very well. I'll go.

- But I'll be back.
- What for?

To take Laurel out of here, and with me.

- You can't!
- I can, and will.

I'll have the necessary
legal papers then.

If Laurel's not here when I return,

I'll use the full weight
of the law against you.

I'm still her mother.

An unfit mother, and I can prove it.

I give you warning.

Don't fail to have her
here when I return.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(PHONE RINGING)

(WAVES CRASHING)

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Hello? Hello? Yes?

This is Litlington 39.

Yes, this is Mrs Drexel
St Maugham speaking.

Yes, well, I want to
speak to Judge McWhirrey.

Oh! Oh, he's there?

Oh, all right. I'll hold on.

Puppy? Is that you?

Yes, I've been trying
to get you for ages.

Oh, fine, fine.

Yes, I'm quite indestructible.

Yes, but the truth is, I'm in
the most desperate need of you.

In a legal sense.

No, no. No, not over the telephone.

Can't you come here?

Spend a day or more
with us at Bellfontaine?

Yes, yes, it is quite that important.

Laurel's whole life may depend on it.

(LOUD CRACKLING)

(WAVES CRASHING)

Don't be frightened, Laurel.

- I've been looking for you.
- What for?

I've been worried about
you. Then I saw your fire.

I told you I'd light one
whenever I felt like it.

Yes, and Maitland told me you'd
be found whenever you felt like it.

I'm hungry.

Has she gone?

Why didn't you have the
courtesy to speak to her?

Miss Madrigal, you are
a £12-a-week governess,

which means you are a failure in life.

So please don't try to run mine.

Now look here!

I can be ten times as hard as you,

with words or anything else.

You will no longer speak to me or
any other adult as if we were cattle.

You will recognise that we have
had experiences in life beyond yours,

and that your mother loves you,

or is trying to love
you, with all her heart.

My mother never loved
anybody in the world but herself.

You don't believe that.

My mother was married
to a very important man,

my father.

One night she didn't come
and kiss me good night.

She didn't have time.

Oh, it's a little thing. It
grows big in your mind.

I sat up in my room, and I
cried because she did have time.

But not for me,

or my father,

but for somebody she stood with in
the shadows of the doorway downstairs,

somebody she stood there kissing
and hugging and making love to,

somebody she got into the car with,

and drove off with and lived with,

and never came back to
see me or my father again.

Come, Laurel.

Tell me how much she
loves me, Miss Madrigal.

Quote me something philosophical.

Do you know what my father did when
he realised what she'd done to him?

He put a gun to his head,

and killed himself.

I was in the room.

Now, Miss Madrigal,

you clever, ingenious, experienced woman,

tell me how to love
everybody in the world.

Quote me a proverb, a motto.

Give me a piece of sugar

that will make life taste
like one big lollipop.

Try!

Laurel!

Laurel!

(LAUREL SOBBING)

Go ahead and cry, Laurel.

Cry as long and as hard as you want.

Cry until you can't cry anymore.

No, no, no. I hate to cry.

- Don't.
- I hate it.

God made tears to be cried.

Oh, why must everywhere
else in the world be so beautiful,

and this place be so ugly?

Oh, if only I could be
anywhere but where I am,

anybody but who I am.

Oh, come on.

Now then, where and
what do you want to be?

Dead...

and in Hell.

Laurel!

- Let me go!
- Laurel, you don't mean that.

I meant every word of it!

You do not!

(HARD SLAP)

(SOBBING)

Oh, no. I don't mean it.

I don't mean it at all!

Don't you come near me.

And don't you get the wrong
impression about what I just did.

Laurel...

I'd have put my arms around
a post or a rock just then.

Laurel...

I don't trust you any more
than I trust my own mother!

Laurel!

(CREAKING)

(CREAKING)

Miss Madrigal. Won't you come in?

I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here.

I came down for a book.

That's quite all right.
Come and sit down.

MISS MADIGAL: It doesn't
matter-Don't let me disturb you.

MAITLAND: You're not disturbing me.

On the contrary, I have far too
much of my own company these days.

(DOOR CLOSING)

Laurel is not at her
best through mahogany.

- Is she?
- Yes.

- Oh...
- Now, may I help?

Something to, er... keep you awake...

or put you to sleep?

Will you tell me something?

About what?

Laurel's father.

Did he really shoot
himself in front of her?

He died of a liver ailment,
the result of too much liquor.

(TUTTING)

How to tell the truths from the lies?

Most of what Laurel
says is dramatised truth.

The lies are very carefully salted in.

She told me you killed
your wife and child.

Truth.

A motorcar accident. I was driving.

I'm sorry.

And the Hyde Park incident?

Well, the truth of that could be no more

than a smile or a wink
by some passing man.

You don't believe she was attacked?

Mrs St Maugham would never
allow a doctor to examine her,

or the police to question her.

I know it sounds incredible,
a twelve-year-old child

- to make up this fantastic...
- An only child is never twelve.

You'll like this. It's a good year.

I usually keep it for myself.

- Please.
- No, I... I think you need it.

Odd. I feel as if you've
taken me into your own house.

When it's quiet like
this, I think of it that way.

My house.

Fine library, great wine cellar,

warm, comfortable rooms.

An estate, Miss Madrigal.

What more could any man want?

And how else can I acquire so much?

I have it all to myself eight
months out of the year.

It's only in the summer that
I open my house to others.

Are your guests always so active?

Well, that depends on the climate.

But, now you're here,
even that's improving.

Now, don't misunderstand me.

This is my family, whatever their faults.

But you mustn't take on
their emotional burdens.

You're not paid enough for that.

I might say the same of you.

No.

No, it's, er... It's different with me.

Mrs St Maugham needed you.

She took me in because I needed her.

When the war finished,

my wife and I bought a
small hotel near Brighton.

Mrs St Maugham used
to come and stay with us.

After the accident, I, um...

I went to pieces.

She was very kind.

She made a place for me here.

- And you've stayed ever since.
- Yes.

I've made a new life for myself.

I've been able to continue
my interrupted education.

By reading the Great
True British Crime series?

(CHUCKLING) Well, this is an education.

An education on the reason for killing.

- It's fascinating.
- I'm sure.

When a man kills, it's the
one act he does totally alone.

The world isn't with him.

Therefore, his convictions
must be tremendous.

I admire people with convictions.

People don't kill reasonably.

They kill unreasonably, passionately.

Thank you for the wine.

Er... before you go,
let me give you a book.

Any book.

For Laurel's benefit,
if she's still about.

Now, what do you fancy?

Arnold Bennett. Conan Doyle.

Hemingway.

Er... HG Wells.

Or perhaps you feel like
something a bit more contemporary...

How about this one?

That's Mrs Maugham's
collection of old admirers.

Three Members of Parliament.

The usual percentage
of undiscovered artists.

A Lord Mayor.

Do you know one of them?

Thank you.

I have a feeling you want
to finish this conversation.

Good night.

(WAVES CRASHING)

(BIRDSONG)

LAUREL: Ah!

Good morning! Good morning!

Good morning, Grandloo.

Oh, what a glorious morning.

What a marvellous morning
for intrigue and for secrets.

Ah, here comes dear, dear Maitland.

I was just saying, Maitland dear,

that some mornings are
better for secrets than others.

This one, for instance, has that...

(SHARPLY INHALING) special feeling.

For making secrets, or breaking them?

I haven't decided that yet.

- More coffee, Miss Madrigal?
- No, thank you.

Oh, Maitland.

You'll make some woman
a marvellous husband.

None for me, thank
you. I'll just have brandy.

Straight or with soda, Miss Laurel?

Laurel, when you take
your first drink, if ever,

it will not be brandy at breakfast.

Oh, Grandloo, I've been
drinking heavily for years,

ever since that terrible night.

Ask Maitland. I've
drunk all the Burgundy,

from 1917 to 1941.

Quite impossible, madam.

- How do you know?
- I drank it myself.

(GIGGLING)

And what else is on the
menu this morning, boss?

Mathematics? Personality development?

- Sex education?
- Laurel!

Well, I've got to learn sometime
or I'll never get the hang of it.

You may get the sketching
materials from your room.

After you finish breakfast.

To hear is to obey.

Why should I be the only one
to resist your persuasive charm?

"More coffee, Miss Madrigal?"

"Oh, certainly, Miss Madrigal."

"Oh, whatever you say, Miss Madrigal."

Oh, Maitland, is love blossoming
in the servants' quarters?

Simple kindness is so rare in this house

that it's instantly mistaken for passion.

Oh, Mrs Williams, I didn't
see you. How well you look.

And how's dear Mr Williams?

Oh, much better, thank
you, Miss Laurel. Much better.

And what sort of kindnesses were
you and Miss Madrigal exchanging

- in the library last night?
- We met quite by accident.

Gentlemen of the jury, I ask you.

And do you deny that you
like her a little, Maitland?

Perhaps even love her a little?

The very fact that you can't
answer proves that you do.

In what court of law?

In the court of the human heart.

Oh, and what a shame.

The great twentieth-century tragedy.

- She's not in your class, Maitland.
- Now, that's enough.

- But consider the evidence...
- That's enough.

How she came to us with nothing.

She writes no letters. She receives none.

She's never even had a phone call.

Maybe she's out of something.

Something like an alcoholic sanatorium,

or a madhouse.

Do you think Grandloo would want
a madwoman watching over me?

It would only be simple justice,

considering all the
governesses you've driven mad.

But we have to know, don't we, you and I?

I hope you're not
asking me to spy for you.

- To observe.
- No.

- Maitland!
- No.

All right, then.

I'll have to do my own spying.

Well, isn't that rather
beneath your talents?

After all, she doesn't
even lock her door.

It wouldn't matter.

A locked door never kept
me out of your room, did it?

SALESMAN: There we are, sir.

Safety, security and privacy,
all in one neat package.

Ah, the price, sir, will be
nine shillings and elevenpence.

(CHUCKLING) ls there anything else, sir?

No, thank you. This
ought to do the trick.

Right, sir.

And, er... one penny change, sir.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, sir.

- Good day, madam.
- MISS MADRIGAL: Good day.

(CHURCH BELLS RINGING)

You must have something quite valuable
in the house to take such precautions.

Well, that's one way
of putting it. For you.

- For me? What for?
- Your door.

Well, I'm not in the
habit of locking my door.

Even if you were, a
skeleton key could still open it.

Laurel has the idea
of searching your room.

I advise a good padlock.

I don't care much for locks.

Nevertheless, they're
the principal reason

for whatever honesty still
exists in our society today.

Well, that completes my purchases.

- Now, what about yours?
- There's nothing I need.

Oh, there must be something.
Hairpins, nylons, cologne.

Just the fresh air.

That's what I really came
along for. Not this, certainly.

I'm afraid that's a must.

Laurel's in for a disappointment.

I've nothing hidden in my room.

Or anywhere?

My life has been quite dull.

I don't believe that's possible.

In fact, in your own quiet way,

you're the most exciting thing that's
happened to the St Maugham household

since I've been there.

- Maitland...
- Oh, I know what you're thinking.

"Here comes another
problem for me to handle."

Well, don't worry.

My admiration knows its place.

It wasn't that. It's...

Why "exciting"?

Have I done anything or said anything?

It's what you haven't
done and haven't said.

Now you sound like Laurel.

Well, we're both amateur detectives.

With one difference.

To me the unsolved mysteries
are far the most exciting.

(CLICKING)

(CAR DOOR OPENING)

(CAR DOOR CLOSING)

None for me, thank you.

But it's sherry trifle, your favourite.

I have a new favourite.

You've scarcely touched
your food. Is anything wrong?

Not really.

I'm in the middle of a mystery story.

The suspense is killing me.

May I be excused?

Well, certainly, but
I think you should...

I should have it finished
in less than an hour.

Then we'll have a smashing
game of backgammon.

She's been so nervous
and upset all evening.

Do you suppose she's been meeting a boy?

If so, it's more likely he'd
be nervous and upset.

I think it's something quite different.

(RATTLING)

(MUFFLED THUMPING)

(OBJECT SLIDING)

(SCREAMING)

Help me!

(SCREAMING) Help!

- (SCREAMING)
- Heavens, child.

Well, what are you both staring at?

I happen to like climbing trees.

Come down at once.

Well, don't just stand
there like a fool, Maitland.

Come up and do something.

Really! She's getting out of hand.

Without even a word, she starts hacking
off the branch of a 200-year-old tree.

But the branch is dead.

Even dead things have their uses.

That was a very deep thought, dear.

Why don't you get rid of her?
Throw her out. I don't need her.

Well, for some
extraordinary reason, I can't.

You're not afraid of
her, are you, Grandloo?

Of course not.

Don't be ridiculous.

Your lady friend has the
oddest way of doing things.

I thought that was your stock in trade.

She's driving my madness underground.

In her warped imagination that
limb probably represents me.

Just because I happened
to be out on it last night.

(BRANCH CRACKING)

(BRANCH FALLING)

Sawdust to sawdust.

So, you think she suspects you, eh?

Suspects?

- She knows.
- Then I'd be careful.

At the moment, she has a better case
against you than you've got against her.

Oh, I wouldn't be too sure,
old ex-partner in crime.

I can pretty well guarantee she's
very unlikely to want the law called in.

Oh? Well, it's been called in.

- What, the police?
- Worse. The judge.

- Oh, what's he coming for?
- Lunch.

Oh.

Maitland, that's marvellous.

Here's our chance to talk
criminology and murder.

The judge!

Judge? What judge?

An old friend of Mrs St Maugham.

Oh? What's his name?

Well, Mrs St Maugham
refers to him as "Puppy".

She was once his mistress.

- Do you know that?
- No.

Then why do you say it?

Why do I say anything? For effect.

But if it's not true, and you're
believed, where are you?

- Where am I?
- Floating away.

The only hold we have
on this world is the truth.

There's nothing in this world
I care about holding on to.

Tell us more about the judge, Maitland.

He's hearing that murder case in
London on Monday. He's going...

Oh, no. That's too good
to be true. I've read about it.

The man who killed
his wife in a fit of...

Cover your ears, Miss Madrigal.

Uncontrollable passion.

Think of him now,

lying in his cell, or pacing it.

Yes. Pacing it like a caged
animal, back and forth.

His hot blood turned cold.

His murderer's blood frozen...

No man is a murderer
until he's convicted.

But when he first looks the
judge in the eye, he must know.

The judge never looks
up. He seems to sleep.

But it's the sleep of cruelty.

Why do you think only of the judge?

It's the jury they work on.

But when you read about such trials,

it seems it must be the judge.

Read more and you'll see
that it's neither, but fate.

But they work to get at the truth.

The truth doesn't always
ring true in a court of law.

- What does ring true?
- The likelihood.

The probability.

They work to make things hang together.

What the prisoner listens
to there is not his life.

It's the shape and shadow of his life,

with the accidents
of truth taken out of it.

How did you get into a courtroom?

It's surprisingly easy.

Now, go and put on
some rubber-soled shoes.

For what? To sneak into a court?

Yes. Really?

A tennis court.

Oh, aren't you the clever one?

You play tennis, too.

About as well as you play detective.

Oh!

Point. Game and set.

Change ends.

- Tell me something.
- If I can.

That trial you attended.
Was it a trial for murder?

It would have to be to satisfy you.

Who is "CDW"?

My married sister.

I thought you'd been born unrelated.

And now you have a sister.

Most people have someone.

Suppose you were to drop down
dead? To whom shall we write?

I shall not drop down dead.

Do you have to do that?

Oh, I hate just walking.

Let's play a game.

- What kind of a game?
- A guessing game.

Do you know one?

Maitland and I play one
called "The Sky's the Limit".

We ask three questions each.

But for each one you don't
answer, I get an extra one.

And what do we guess about?

Each other.

You know, boss, we're
both rather mysterious.

Does it have to be the truth?

Oh, you can lie.

But I get better and
better at spotting the lies.

Now, give me a moment to think.

Right. I'm ready.

First question.

Are you a maiden lady?

- I can't answer that one.
- Why?

Because you throw the emphasis so oddly.

Right. You don't answer,
so I get an extra question.

Mm-hmm.

Are you living under an assumed name?

- No.
- Careful, boss.

I've got my lie detector working.

Do you take things at my
grandmother's house at face value?

- No.
- Wonderful.

- You're getting the idea.
- There's our bus.

Tell me the full name of
your married sister, quickly.

Clarissa Dalrymple Westerham.

- Is "Dalrymple Westerham" a double name?
- You've had your questions.

- (CONDUCTOR'S BELL RINGING)
- Hurry up. We'll miss it.

(LAUREL SHRIEKING)

Now your questions.

- What?
- The game. Your questions.

Oh, yes.

Were there any witnesses to
your famous Hyde Park affair?

No.

What was the charge by the police?

The police didn't come into it.

Did someone follow
you and try to kiss you?

Kiss me? He tried to...

It was an open-and-shut
case of criminal assault.

How do you know that, if there
wasn't a charge by the police?

Now you've had too many questions.

CONDUCTOR: Fares, please.

- Two one-and-threepennies, please.
- Two to Litlington.

- Thank you.
- Thank you, madam.

Now for the deductions.

Oh, you didn't tell me
there was a deduction.

Oh, I forgot. It's the whole point.

Mine's ready.

What do you deduce?

That you've changed so much,

you must have been
something quite different.

When you first came to Grandloo's,

you were like a rusty
hinge that wanted oiling.

You'd been alone.

You may have been a
missionary in darkest Africa.

You could have been almost
anything except a maiden lady.

You've had a sex life
of fire and brimstone.

Now, about your assumed
name, I'm not so sure.

But you have no married sister.

You take my breath away.

- Good at it, aren't I?
- Yes, for a mind under a cloud.

Now your deductions.

Oh, give me time. I'm new at this game.

And you've had an unfair advantage.

What's that mean?

It means that I should
first have the privilege

of searching your room, too.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: And
that, Puppy, is my problem.

Can Olivia take back
the child she deserted,

this pitiful, helpless child,

and make her play daughter to the
very man who broke up their home?

- Well...
- This little, frightened, insecure girl,

to whom I've given my
full devotion and attention,

spared no expense,

and for whom I've hired the finest
governess that money can buy.

- In these cases, it...
- Can she be actually torn

from an atmosphere of
love and understanding,

and made to fulfil a
cold, legal obligation

to a mother who considered
her an afterthought,

and a father who is no father at all?

The general legal view, I
would say, takes into account...

Now, don't make any
snap courtroom decisions.

After all, we're dealing
with real people here.

To make a snap judgement,

I should have to speak
somewhat faster than I do.

Dear Puppy.

I feel better already.

Your views are always so helpful.

LAUREL: Hello, Puppy!

Good heavens. Laurel!

That's right.

Somehow I was still
expecting a little girl.

I'm sixteen now, but backward.

Olivia's daughter.

Shy Olivia. How is your mother?

Hush. We don't speak of her here.

My dear girl, she's still living?

In sin, Judge. In sin.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Ah,
so she's found you, Puppy.

The little girl of my little girl.

- Now, what do you think of her now?
- Well...

Or perhaps I shouldn't ask the judge to
compliment you in your presence, dear.

But come along, both
of you. Luncheon's ready.

It's not very grand, I'm afraid.
I don't entertain anymore.

The battle's over.

You see, even the table is laid

with fragments of forgotten ritual.

Faith is handed down that way.

When our era is dead,

we shan't know why we
have two glasses for one wine.

Ah, Miss Madrigal.

Puppy, I want you to meet my right hand,

my green thumb, the
mistress of my garden.

Miss Madrigal, this is an old, old
friend of mine, Judge McWhirrey.

JUDGE: One "old" would have been enough.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Would
you have your youth back?

- JUDGE: No.
- I'd have it back if I could.

Even life's reverses.

Wouldn't you, Miss Madrigal?

Miss Madrigal, why don't you sit down?

I was saying,

do you think grief tastes more
sharply than pleasure on the palate?

Miss Madrigal?

I'm sorry.

I don't seem to have the
give-and-take of clever conversation.

Well, at least age does
give tone to certain things.

Violins, old wine,

old friends to drink it with.

Yes, Maitland, we'll have the wine.

None for me, thank you.

Alcohol in the middle of the
day is exciting when you're 30,

but disastrous at 70.

But it can make you feel 30 again.

(MAITLAND COUGHING DISCREETLY)

What? Oh.

Turn back the clock, Maitland.
The judge will have some.

- Judge.
- Yes?

You're trying a murder
case on Monday, aren't you?

- I am.
- Well, what...

I'd love to see you on the
bench again after all these years.

You should. You should.
Time decorates a judge.

- But what Maitland and I want to know...
- And Miss Madrigal.

Conversation should include everybody.

But it's Maitland and I who
collect the Great Crime series.

The trial, how will it begin?

When I enter court.

- How will you enter?
- Slowly.

Soberly, with deliberate gravity.

Robed in scarlet.

Terrifying.

(GLASS BREAKING)

She broke the glass.

I'm sorry.

My hand knocked it.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Well, never mind.

Now we know why we have
two glasses for one wine.

JUDGE: Yes!

Maitland, pour some more
wine for Miss Madrigal.

I'm not used to wine.

But it helps one to keep
up one's end at table.

LAUREL: Go on, Judge.

- With what?
- The trial.

Heavens, Laurel.

Talk is a thoroughbred.

One doesn't say "go
on" as if it were a donkey.

No, no, let her be.

Well, first I'm driven
to church, to pray.

- To pray?
- Against my faults.

I pray against bias, and against vanity.

And for charity?

No, that's outside my job, Miss, er...

I'm so sorry. I've
forgotten how they call you.

The name is Madrigal.

I ignore the heart, Miss Madrigal,

and satisfy justice.

Every line on this face
is written by law, not life.

The trial, Judge. The trial.

MRS ST MAUGHAM:
Stop badgering him, Laurel.

No, no, let the trial begin.

At the gate, my trumpeters
knock three times,

then blow for my admittance.

- Then?
- Then,

garbed and toff ed
with medieval meanings,

obscured by ritual,

carrying the gloves of justice,

and the cap of death,
on a hollow knock...

- (KNOCKING ONCE ON TABLE)
- I go in.

And the prisoner. What about him?

He killed his wife, didn't he?

Oh, please, Judge. We're mad on murder.

That's not a subject for discussion.

LAUREL: But murder cracks open
the lives of people you don't know.

And, as a judge, you hear everything.

In principle.

Miss Madrigal says the judge
doesn't even listen. She says he sleeps.

I said he seemed to sleep.

With one eye open, like a tiger.

Have you been to a trial, then?

Yes, she has. She told me.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: You
defeat my purpose. Let her answer.

Have you heard me on
the bench, Miss Madrigal?

When I spoke to Laurel of
judges, it was in a general sense.

But I heard you give a judgement.

I hope it was a good one.

I think, if I remember,

I would not have come to your conclusion.

Miss Madrigal has such answers to life.

But that was a strange one.

Well, a judge doesn't always
get to the bottom of things.

No. It would take the pity of
God to get to the bottom of things.

- Now, that is enough.
- Forgive me, but you insisted.

It has removed my inhibitions.

When it's a murderer,

and when you have to say whether
he'll live or die, how do you feel?

- Do you suffer?
- Nobody suffers.

They all go into a dream together.

Even the prisoner?

The prisoner thinks he is at
the judgement seat of justice,

the place where all the
motives are taken into account.

- And aren't they?
- Absolutely not.

Now, that will be all.

LAUREL: Miss Madrigal says

that when everything has
gone against the prisoner...

I'm quoted enough.

That after the verdict, when he's asked,
"Have you anything to say before..."

The prisoner is mercifully in a
state of shock and says nothing.

Not always. Some have
said remarkable things.

I remember a woman...

Maitland, have you the case
of Constance Doris Wakeland?

MAITLAND: No, I don't
think I've got that one.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Do sit down, Laurel.

We haven't finished our soup yet.

JUDGE: You should
read it for what she said

when she stood before me.

Hardly more than a child she was,

but old beyond her years.

"What I have been listening
to in court," she said,

"is not my life."

"It is the shape and shadow of my life,"

"with the accidents
of truth taken out of it."

What was she tried for, Judge?

Murder.

She killed her stepsister, brutally,

from unreasonable jealousy.

I remember the case.

A pathological imaginer.

A liar.

A girl who lied, and lied and lied.

And, when she told the
truth, it didn't save her.

Excuse me.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Miss
Madrigal. Miss Madrigal!

Where are you going?

Now, really, this is too much.

They didn't hang her, Judge.

That's quite enough,
Laurel. You've gone too far.

Yes.

I didn't mean to.

I really didn't mean to.

Oh! Let me go. Let me go.

What are you up to?

Maitland, let me go. I have to see her.

Oh, of course. This is
your moment, isn't it?

You've caught her, trapped
her, run her to the ground.

You can't let her escape now.

Oh, Maitland, please.

She's wounded, dangerous.

Go on. Finish her off.

But I didn't mean it.

I never meant it to go so far.

We were playing a game. A game.

Then, all at once, it wasn't a game.

Don't you see? I have to explain.

- I have to make her believe that.
- How?

How? How can anyone
believe a word you say?

When you believe in no-one, in nothing.

You're right.

I can't. I don't know how.

And she'd never listen to me, not now.

But somehow I have
to put it right. I have to.

Help me, Maitland. Make me a promise.

What?

That we'll never talk about
what happened down there.

Not to each other, not to
anyone who wasn't there, ever.

All right.

That's a promise.

Leave it to me.

(SOBBING)

Your door was... open, er...

Yes.

You see, I was right.

It's no good locking doors.

There's no place...

No safe or private place...

Not for people like me.

There are no people like you, Madrigal.

You're yourself,
something quite original.

Even the name is a lie.

Nothing about you is a lie.

Well, you know the truth about me now.

At least the way it's written down.

Constance Doris Wakeland
still stands condemned of murder.

That happened before you were born.

This is where Madrigal came into being.

You're kind and... and generous.

I'm selfish.

I want you to stay here.

Well, I can't.

Don't you see?

There's nothing for me here.

Nothing more I can do.

Any influence I might have
had with Laurel, that's finished.

She finished it.

She made good her promise.

She exposed me.

Or set you free...

Free of the fear of being exposed.

Now I'll always be afraid of that.

Now I know there'll be another Laurel,

another Judge McWhirrey wherever I go.

But not if you stay here.

Even if I wanted to,

do you believe Mrs St
Maugham would allow it?

A convicted murderess under her roof?

All she's sure of is you
behaved strangely at lunch.

Perhaps because of the
wine. She doesn't know.

By now, she's been told.

No, she hasn't.

Laurel has just begged
me to keep the secret.

But why? She hates me.

At the table downstairs, she
finally lit a fire she couldn't put out.

She got caught up in it. But now, she...

Now, it's too late.

You can't put things back
as they were out of ashes.

If you spoke to the judge...

I did that once. It didn't help.

And by now, even if Laurel hasn't,

he will have handed down his
judgement to Mrs St Maugham.

He's a judge. He knows better than anyone

you can't be tried twice
for the same crime.

- Talk to him.
- Oh, what good will it do?

For Laurel, all the good.

Unless, of course, it's
you who hate her now.

Hate her? I'm afraid for her.

More and more, she's the child I was.

And shouldn't the judge know that?

He's come down here
to help decide her future.

Your influence now could
be stronger than ever.

Do you really believe that?

Yes. I really believe it.

Thank you, Maitland.

No.

As I said, I'm a selfish man.

(CLOSING DOOR LOUDLY)

I'm sorry to disturb you.

I could hardly be more disturbed
than I have been already.

What do you want?

I know what you must think.

I don't belong here. I shouldn't be here.

But it is a kind of work so fitted to me.

Do you believe in God?

At times, I've thought it
was He who sent me here.

Oh, don't look at me as if I were
a sad piece of news, a curiosity.

Why don't you answer?

Answers to questions involving God

must be carefully phrased.

One thing I must know.

When did you recognise me?

The moment you saw me, or later?

So that's it.

What?

It finally comes to me who you are.

Constance Doris Wakeland.

But surely, you...

- I thought you knew.
- Not until this moment.

Then, if I hadn't come in... Incredible.

I'd never have remembered.

Oh, no.

Fifteen years, and
you've greatly changed.

At our last meeting, I died.

It alters the appearance.

So, what will you do now?

I'm an old man, Miss Madrigal,

and very learned.

I don't know.

What, in heaven's name,

made you choose this occupation,

with your history?

- And in this family?
- This family?

With any family.

I remember the girl,
and the lies she told.

Yes, and you've seen her again
today in Laurel, haven't you?

Hardly more than a child.

Yet, one day, she may
be facing you in court.

Why are you telling me this?

In answer to your
question, "Why this family?"

Why stay on?

Because when I came here,
I felt I had met myself again.

The cobwebs and the fantasies.

The same evasions.

I could have left at the first
sign of trouble, had I wanted to.

That might have been your best solution.

But not hers.

She needed me. Needs me now.

And I won't leave before I finish
the job I was sent here to do.

Finish it? How?

By giving it up to you.

You have the influence and the
power to return her to her mother.

Please, believe me now,
if you never did before.

It's where she belongs, what she needs,

what I needed and never had.

And if she goes, what becomes of you?

I shall be leaving in any case.

Constance Doris Wakeland,
be assured of one thing.

I'll not pass sentence
on you a second time.

Thank you for that, but Laurel is the...

Laurel's case must be decided by Laurel.

She can't decide. She hates her mother.

- Unreasonably, but...
- You're not the judge here.

Nor do I choose to be.

Whether or not you go,

whether or not she stays,

must rest with you and Laurel.

So you see, Miss Madrigal,

you can't finish your job
here by giving it up to me.

Shall you come again, Puppy?

When your trial is over and you can rest?

I shall rest before I
come next time, my dear.

Too much happens in
this house for an old man.

Oh!

(CAR ENGINE STARTING)

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Goodbye,
Puppy. Look after yourself.

No, there's no answer.

- You sent for me, Mrs St Maugham?
- I did.

I've just received word from Miss
Olivia that she's on her way here now.

She expects us to have Laurel
ready, and her things packed.

I can do that in five minutes.

Please, don't anticipate me.

Her things will not be packed,
and she will not be taken.

You will kindly listen to what I
say, and carry out my instructions.

MISS MADRIGAL: Mrs St
Maugham, she needs to be taken.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: What?

MISS MADRIGAL: She must go.
Laurel must go back with her mother.

You astonish me with
the liberties you take.

I made allowance at
luncheon yesterday. The wine.

- But this...
- I'm quite clear-headed now.

To take this child of
special soil, transplant her...

Mrs St Maugham, you
have not a green thumb,

either with a garden or a child.

This is a house where nothing
good can be made of her.

- My house?!
- Your house.

Why, even your garden is demented.

But her mother... You know what
she is. Even Laurel has told you.

MISS MADRIGAL: She has told me
what has been made of her mother,

what you have helped
her to make in her mind.

Not what she is, not
even what you believe.

You couldn't.

Her mother is still your child.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: But
she's going to have another child.

There won't be room for Laurel-

The heart is a house with a
room for every person it loves.

Neither you nor Olivia can
understand Laurel as I do.

I have a special knowledge of her.

To me, she's like a porcelain on a shelf,

marred, in some
marvellous way, for the better.

- My knowledge of her...
- We'll not compare ourselves.

I called you in here, Miss Madrigal,

because on Miss Olivia's last
visit you attempted to interfere.

Now, I will not tolerate that today.

I advise you to remain
quietly in the background.

Your advice is foreseen.

But, before I go, Laurel must leave.

The flaming impudence!

- You must be mad.
- That has been said of me.

What collusion has been
worked behind my back?

To take my money, and
then turn against me?

And I... lavish, trusting, leaning.

How could you do this to me?

What exactly are you, Miss Madrigal?

A woman who has lost
touch with unessential things,

with confusion over
two glasses for one wine.

No, by heaven, this
time I want the truth.

Who are you? Where do you come from?

Out of what dark past?

MISS MADRIGAL: The past is
an ugly wound not yet healed.

But, if it must be opened up
for Laurel's sake, I'll do that.

Don't go too far for me, boss.

The words that passed between
you and Judge McWhirrey...

Now, I demand to know.

Have you two met before?

Judge McWhirrey once
sentenced me to death.

To death?

But there you are.

Those who go on living must be somewhere.

It was a commuted
sentence because of my youth.

It was many years ago.

And where have you been since?

I came to you directly out of prison.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: Oh, my God. My God.

My Laurel, entrusted to a criminal.

A felon, a monster-It's frightening-

MISS MADRIGAL: You should be frightened.

You see before you the
woman Laurel may yet become.

The child who lied and cheated and hated,

because she could not
believe one simple fact.

That she was loved.

MRS ST MAUGHAM: I have
loved her, thought only of her.

MISS MADRIGAL: You've
thought only of yourself.

You've used Laurel to hurt her mother.

You wanted the truth,

and the truth may still save Laurel.

Leave me alone.

Go away.

Leave me alone.

So that you can cry?

I am far from tears.

If I were you, I'd cry.

Cry with relief that her
mother still wants her,

is still prepared to take her.

But have a care. Even a
mother can't wait forever.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(BIRDSONG)

Not in the summer house.

Not in the toolshed or the
greenhouses. I'll try the attics.

I'll go to the beach.

Laurel?

What are you doing here?

I'm waiting for my mother.

You see, boss,

you finally convinced me.

And what I want is to be with my mother.

You made me want to.

You taught me what love is, boss.

(CAR APPROACHING)

You've grown up, Laurel,
and you seem smaller.

Goodbye.

No. We'll never say goodbye.

Never, never, never.

Let's go home, Mother.

Oh, Laurel.

(CAR DOOR CLOSING)

Thank you.

- (CAR DOOR CLOSING)
- (ENGINE STARTING)

What will you do now?

Continue to explore the
astonishment of living.

Is it a crime to want to be remembered?

No.

The pharaohs built the
pyramids for that reason.

What do women do... in my case?

It wouldn't hurt to go on gardening.

I've made a muddle of my garden...

and my heart.

Will Olivia forgive me?

MISS MADRIGAL: In time, perhaps.

Would you stay with me?

Would you?

I'll stay as long as I'm wanted.

You know, we could make
this place so full of life.

A good life.

That people would come
from everywhere to see us.

What do you think?

I must know one thing.

What's that?

Did you do it?

What many learned men,
at the top of their profession,

couldn't find out
after a long, long trial,

why should you know?

Forty years ago, I should
have said the same thing.

But I warn you, before I die,

I'll find out.

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