All language subtitles for White Heat s01e01 The Past Is a Foreign Country.eng

Someone said that death
might end a life,

but for the survivor,
the relationship struggles on,

seeking resolution it
may never find.

I suppose we should have
guessed that

the death of one of us would bring
us back together,

but none of us are under
any illusion that time heals.

Ms Pugh?

Ewan Fleming,
Gibson and Parks, Solicitors.

It was they who raised the alarm.
The police broke down the door,

bit of a make do and mend job,
I'm afraid.

Once the post-mortem confirmed
death as natural causes,

the police got in a company to
disinfect the place.

As executor of the will, you'll need
to settle the charge from the estate.

The chemicals,
when they sanitised it.

Under the terms of the will,
you and the other legatees

can dispose of any personal
items as you choose.

Are they coming today, too?

Mmm.

Is it right you all lived together?

"Former flatmates",
it says in the will.

We lost touch... over the years.

When probate is complete,
the flat will be sold,

all debts discharged,

after which, the estate will be
divided between you and the others.

Drop them off at your convenience.

How long was it,
before they found the...

Two weeks.

Joy of city life, eh?

I'll get back to you
as soon as possible.

Thanks, bye.

Next six!

The old man bought the lease.
Cheaper than shelling out on rent,

which makes me a landlord.

As a paid-up member of the
"all property is theft" club,

the joke is on me.

A shared one, three guineas a week,

needs decorating and shit,
like the others.

The other single, fiver a week.
And the double is across the hall.

Which one are you again?

Charlotte Pugh.

I like.

I'm not about to lay a load of crap

about cleaning rotas on you,

just set out a kind of modus
operandi about living here.

We have a chance to challenge
the status quo,

prove there's an alternative
socio-economic model to live by

other than the nuclear bloody family,

by sharing our labour, our energy,
our resources. Like a commune?

Works for them in China.

Didn't they abolish
landlords in China? Execute them?

Your name? Harper. Alan. Alan.

That's OK, thanks.

OK, see what I'm trying to say,
Alan, is,

what's the point in social mobility

if we just carry the same tired old
values around with us, you know?

So what we do is we construct a
model of living based on equality,

based on the welfare of the group,

rather than the selfish needs
of the individual.

Up to, and including, sex.

Aren't all relationships
just another form of ownership?

What is he on about?

Eliminate the exclusivity
of couples, you eliminate jealousy

and all the corrosive shit which
goes with it, so we make a rule.

No sleeping with the same person,
flatmates included,

on more than three
consecutive nights.

What sort of godless set up
are you running here?

I want no part of it, frankly.

Better out than in, as they say.
Let's take a vote.

All those in favour
of the godless set up, as outlined?

OK.

Great.

Message received.

Over and out.

I'll let you know.
Send up the next lot, will you?

'Since his stroke, the silent vigil
for Churchill's recovery continues

'as the whole country prays for him

'in this, his darkest hour.

'His defiant vow,
"We shall never surrender"

'has never been more apt.'

Amen to that, eh?

The girl who owns the flat you saw,

is she at your college, too?

What does it matter?

If I was one of the chosen few
I'd have heard by now.

Susan Reynolds from Girl Guides.
She has a flat in Marble Arch.

Her mother says she's looking for
someone to share with.

She's an air hostess now.

She'll be away half the time.
You'd have the place to yourself.

Where's the fun in that, eh?

The point is to be near college
for her studies, isn't it?

Doesn't preclude her having a bit
of fun, does it? I didn't say it did.

Leave space for the crumble.

Mum's OK about this, isn't she?

If I do move out?

Nothing stays the same.

She has to face that,
like the rest of us.

We only have one life, after all.

Hello. Hello.

'First US combat troupes
deployed in Vietnam have...'

'All day long there's been a sort
of pilgrimage to Sir Winston's house.

'Families have come in from
the country, young couples...'

No, sorry, no, north, the signal
comes from Alexandra Palace.

Damned thing isn't thickening.

That's it.

Everyone, this is Lilly.
Lilly, everyone.

Hiya. Lilly's studying painting
at... Where was it?

Hornsey College of Art.

I'm Jay. Hi.
Hi, I'm Charlotte. Hi.

Come and get it.

You know what, I've just clocked it!
I've just clocked it!

I've just clocked
why he's chosen us.

Jack, why he's chosen us,
in particular.

We're his guinea pigs!

His what? Exactly.

His socio-economic mix.

Think about it,

he's got the class thing covered,
hasn't he?

Race, you know, and you.

He's got
the professions covered...

computing, medicine, English, law,

art and...

Psychology.

Yeah, and that.
So he's hand-picked every one of us,

to conduct his social experiment.

Well, I'm not sure anybody
is quite that cynical.

Do you want to bet?

Cheers.

Jack?

Grubs up!

Hold it in, don't exhale.

It's crap what they say,
how it's an escape from reality.

You know when you get the feeling
life is utterly bloody futile?

You light up, it lifts you up.

Instead of looking into the abyss,

you're standing on the edge
of the world.

You're invincible.

Feel anything yet?

How about this?

Is that part
of your social experiment, too?

It's about being in the moment.

Seeing where it takes you.

It's quite a drop. Be careful.

Oh, I will be.

You know the way.

Lilly.

God, is it really 20 years?
I don't believe it.

Anyone else here yet?

Uh, no.

I'm going to make
a start in the kitchen,

so maybe you could do
one of the bedrooms, upstairs?

Is that where it happened?

Mmm.

Charlie?

There's not been a day when I
haven't regretted what I did to you.

Not a day.

Bloody hell! Wish we'd never
started the damn thing!

It's supposed to be smooth
like a mirror,

give an illusion of bloody space.

Right, I'll see you later!
Good luck with it!

Bye, love. Bye.

Where do you reckon it is
she goes every evening?

Library, she says.
Maybe it's confession.

Do you know what her mother
told her?

That periods are called the curse,

because it's God's curse on us
for Eve eating the apple.

So much for your benign deity.

You been seeing anyone
since coming to London?

You?

How about back home?

Only a few local lads,
from school and that, you know.

No-one special.

So you didn't...

Do it with any of them?

Go the whole way?

The first time was my 16th
birthday present to myself.

I couldn't wait to get it out the
way, see what the fuss was about.

You?

A girl in my class
at the high school.

In the middle of her O-levels,
she suddenly drops out of school,

drops out of sight.

I had this Saturday job at the local
supermarket, on the till.

There was always this endless
queue of women with their kids,

stretching back as far
as the eye could see.

They all looked so...

tired.

One day, I looked up,
she was one of them.

Pushing a pram.

There but for the grace
of a benign deity...

Still, all good things
are worth waiting for, eh?

Then again, maybe I'll die
chaste and virginal, like Orla.

It may not be worth the wait, love.

Trust me, it's just not
the big deal everyone says it is.

Rent time, girls.

Oh, hold on,
I left my bag downstairs.

Cheers.

Thank you.

Thing about your benign deity...

It works in mysterious ways.

Thanks.

Derivative, vacuous, pointless.

You want to paint by numbers,
go do it in someone else's class,

better yet, go work it out in a gym.

Is that what you call
"constructive criticism"?

If it's any comfort,
I'd not put myself out

unless I thought you had
something going for you, would I?

Please, God, say you're not
falling for that crap.

This is the one place
a woman can take her clothes off

and become invisible.

Sitting there all day,
you see things, hear things.

You won't be the first notch
on his belt, dear...

or the last.

Could be your heating element...

or the capacitor
and, if it is, I'm wasting my time.

Here she is!

Mum, Dad.

We came down to pay our respects
to Mr Churchill.

Near on 300 people there were.
Some had stood there all night.

That's unusual.

He'll pull through yet.
He's nowt if he's not a fighter.

This is Victor, he's on a law
scholarship from Jamaica.

Sorry.

Excuse me.

You never said you were
sharing with a... With lads.

We need to talk, love.
Is there somewhere we can...

No, no, look, I've got things
I need to do upstairs.

So I'll... It was very nice
meeting you both.

Don't jump down our throats.
Just hear us out.

It's your Aunt Helen.
She's, erm, she's broke her hip.

She needs somebody
to help her out in the shop.

And she says if you, if you come
back, she'll train you up

and when the time comes,
she'll sign the lease over to you.

It's the only drapery in Heaton -
guaranteed custom, regular clients.

Set you up for life,
a place like that.

If I did that secretarial course

you said I could go to art college,
that were the deal.

You can still do your art
and such on Sundays, can't you?

There's no future in it, love.

It's never going to put
food on the table, is it?

It's not for the likes of us.

When the novelty of it wears off,
and it will, you'll wake up,

see the world as it is,
not as you wish it to be.

It may be too late.
You'll have burnt your boats.

Bridges.

It's burning bridges.

And they're mine to burn.

When I was at school,
my mam and dad used to go on at us,

"You've opportunities we never had.

"Work hard, get your exams,
get ahead."

It was all fine while I was
doing my degree up in Newcastle,

but when I moved down here
for me post grad,

it was a whole different tune.

"Newcastle wasn't good enough
for me anymore.

"Now that I lived down here,
I was above them all."

They thought I was
leaving them all behind.

They were right.

'In the four hours
since the last bulletin

'there has been
no further deterioration.'

'It was about an hour
and a half ago that Lord Moran,

'Sir Winston's personal physician
came out...'

'and the essay, The Personal Is
Political, do you think that means

liberation for women
lies in our personal experience?'

'It means we'll only
realise our potential

'if we transform
our relationships with men.

'The contraceptive pill
has given us the freedom

'to explore sexual intimacy,
without fear of pregnancy.

'But so long as it's only available
to married women, the rest of us,

'the majority of us,
are denied that freedom.

'And if our sexuality is stifled,
so is our potential.'

Orla?

'I started off in the hotel kitchen,'

dishwasher and dogsbody.

Now I've graduated to the heady
heights of chambermaid.

You have a grant, don't you,
like the rest of us?

Most of it goes back home.

You have to eat too, Orla.
They can't expect you to just...

They don't expect it.

I choose to do it.

In Belfast, if you're a Catholic...

Six years
my father's been without work.

My mum holds down two cleaning jobs

and it's not enough,
with four wee ones to feed.

Don't be worrying about me,
I'll get by.

How? Slinking around
eating our scraps?

I don't want
the others knowing, Jay.

I embarrass them enough as it is.

I don't always feel I belong here.

Don't give away too much
of yourself, Orla.

There'll be nothing
left for the rest of us.

Night. Night.

Morning. Morning.

That tea dead?

Any chance someone can
cover my shift cooking tonight?

I'm late on an assignment.
I can, if it helps.

You're a saint, Victor, so you are.

All right.

Are you done? Yes, thank you.

You don't have to do that, Victor.

Wait on us.

Just doing me share.

Have you heard? Did you hear?

'It's said that Sir Winston died.

Churchill's died...

'shortly after 8.00 this morning.

'Parliament will meet tomorrow
to authorise a state funeral,

'the first held for a commoner
in this country.'

Some commoner, with his title
and his country pile.

'For a generation, he led his
people through the darkness of war.

'He was an inspiration,
rallying them to victory...'

God, what bollocks!

Show a bit of bloody respect.

What do you want?
A chorus of Rule Britannia?

We'd be in a damn sorry state
without him.

Tell that to people
in the East End and Coventry.

When the Germans invaded Belgium,

did he order them
to bomb the Panzers? No, no.

He sent them to bomb
innocent civilian German cities

and he calls Coventry
in "The Blitz war crimes".

Call that heroism, if you want.
Me, I call it hypocrisy.

You know what they say,
takes one to know one.

Do you know what, Jack? What?

I have never, never met anyone
so full of pre-digested crap

as you are.

Victor, give it a bloody rest!

Slavery is over, haven't you heard?

You are a truly unique human being,
Jack. One of a kind.

Victor?

He's right, I'm full of crap.

It's like Malcolm X said, man...

"No-one will give you equality,
you have to take it."

I'm sorry, I lost the plot.

Am I proud of it? No.

Will it happen again?

Almost certainly.

What's the thing
in The Third Man, Harry Lime says,

"If one of those dots stopped moving
for ever, what would you feel?"

If you feel nothing, what does that
say about you, about your humanity?

Or is all altruism just
self-serving bullshit?

It's because you feel,
you get so angry.

That's the proof of it, surely.

Married how long?

Six months.

And your husband agrees to you
taking oral contraception?

It's my decision, not his.

You wouldn't credit
how many girls come here

wearing a curtain ring
from Woolworths,

hoping to get
the contraceptive pill.

They must think I'm a bloody halfwit.

We need to talk about
your mother, Charlotte.

She's...

She's suffering.

It's the change.
She's just not coping with it.

She seems fine
when we talk on the phone.

She doesn't want to be a burden,
you know how she is.

It's the empty nest thing.

Keeps saying her life is over.

I've got so much going on at work.
I'm home all hours and...

So... I thought, perhaps,
if you could come home,

just for a couple months,
until she's through it.

Why me? Why can't Adam
or Peter move back?

Your brothers have their careers
to think of, don't they?

You can commute, like you
did your first term, can't you?

It wasn't so bad, was it?

I'll lose my room at the flat.

You can get another room later,
once we've sorted your mother out.

If I thought I could meet her needs,
then I would.

But I can't, not in this.

If you think that's easy to admit,
think again.

Will you be going home
at all this year?

Well, erm, my scholarship barely
pays for my fees and my maintenance,

so sadly, no.

You know all Jack's talk
about poverty and inequality...

He knows nothing of them.

They are theoretical to him.

It's all just a way of him
parading his radical credentials.

Dad!

It's 6.00 somewhere in the world.

Can you stay the night?

I've a lecture first thing.

Dad will be sorry to miss you.

He's home late,
some panic at work.

This is a nice surprise.

Out of the blue.

I saw Daddy in London
the other day, actually.

He was with someone.

From work?

Who knows?

I was with someone, too. A boy.

It's not just girls sharing
the flat. It's boys, too.

And one is your boyfriend?

No. I just...

thought you should know.

Why the secrecy?

Or do you think I am so stuck in
the dark ages I can't deal with it?

I used to blame the war
for stealing my youth.

Then your father,
for stealing my future.

I never blamed myself, naturally.

Someone, somewhere, is out there
living the life I should have had,

because I gave it away
to the first man I met.

Hello?

Jack Walsh about?

Who wants to know?

His father.

He's just getting up.

On my way to the funeral.

I should have known
he'd be dead to the world.

Churchill's funeral? Mmm-hmm.

Hoping to get there myself later.

Can I get you a cup of tea?

If there's a cup
free from infection.

5,000 at the rehearsal yesterday.

More heads of state clogging up
Westminster than us bloody MPs.

Oh... you're an MP?

For my sins.

Wilson was sandbagging De Gaulle
over dinner last night,

about producing some Anglo-French
supersonic airliner, so he claims.

Softening him up
about the Common Market, more like.

Best of British with that one.

Thank God for Gallic obduracy,
I say.

Ah, good morning. We were
just talking about Churchill.

I assume it's a vain hope
you'll come with me to the funeral?

God, all that xenophobic pomp?
My stomach couldn't take it.

As you've no doubt you will
have already observed, Alan,

my son's respect is reserved
for malodorous dictators,

like Fidel Castro and Ho Chi Minh.

Pleasure meeting you, sir.

You, too, son.

Your mother ran into Mr Bradfield
at the bank last week.

He tells me you're overdrawn again.

He's no right discussing it with you.

He's the manager and I am your
guarantor. That gives him the right.

Blame it on the cost
of living in London.

You did choose to forego
your place at Balliol.

Spare me the dreaming spires
litany again...

Balliol would have opened doors
for you, just as it did for me.

Doors which you have
voluntarily elected to slam closed.

Debts are like children,

begot in pleasure,

bought forth in pain.

Courtesy of my son, I seem
to have a spare ticket.

It's a reserved seat at St Paul's,
for family and friends,

if you're interested?

If you're sure, sir?

We could grab a bite
at my club on the way.

And it's Edward.

Morning. Morning.

Posh car.

So what are you, an earl,

the right honourable someone?

My father and I, our disappointment
in each other is mutual.

And terminal.

Join the club.

Best leave me
to my own devices, Charlotte.

Daddy?

Someone's birthday?

House warming.

Hardly the best taste,
today of all days.

Or that, either.

When did you start doing that?

Why are you here, Daddy?

I was up for the funeral, thought
we might get something to eat.

Oh, is what's-her-name
not available, then?

What?

The tart in the mini skirt
I saw you kissing.

And don't insult me by telling me
it was nothing. I know what I saw.

Tell me,

all the work trips over the years,

all the late nights at the office,

is she the first? Or the 21st?

It's not like that.

What is it like? She was my age,
Daddy! Younger, even!

I'm human, Charlotte.
I made a mistake.

Have some compassion, can't you?

Compassion?

Where was yours when you tried
to talk me into moving back home,

so you could shag your way
around bloody London?!

Whatever I've done,
I'm still your father.

I deserve some damn respect!

Respect! There's a word!

We'll do this some other time.

Tell me, Daddy, what do you think?

Is it too short?

Too sluttish?

But I'm your daughter, aren't I?

Different rules apply.

From now on, I make my own rules.

Fun day?

Aye.

Happy pill?

Huge personal sacrifice,
but since it's you...

Orla! Orla, please, let me in!
Let me in, Orla!

Orla, open the door.

You can't tell anyone, Orla!

Please not a word, promise me.

It'll finish me if you do.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck me.

What's the deal on that?

We'll never get equality
in the boardroom

until we get it in the bedroom,
will we?

You know how long I've waited
to meet someone like you?

I mean, finally...

Finally, a girl who doesn't confuse
a bit of uncomplicated sex

with the romantic crap
about commitment and love.

I'd like a pound for every time

I've been sucked into
that particular hell.

Bloody hell,
I'm famished, aren't you?

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