Original subtitles

It's one of the best schools of English. Not one of the biggest, but one of the

best in Cambridge, which, when it comes down to it, means in the whole country.

I'll explain, I'll explain about our first year grammar classes, when we

gather together, when we gather together for my official welcome speech.

Good morning, St. John. Hello, Anita.

Did I say you know? You look different, don't you?

Do I? Oh, my hair, probably. I put it up.

Oh, yes. Well, it looks really terrific.

Thank you.

Of course, I liked it the other way, too. Tumbling down your shoulders.

Hasn't tumbled down my shoulders for three years, syndrome.

Oh. Well, how was it then before you changed?

Back in a ponytail.

Yes. Yes. Well, I liked it like that, too.

Oh, by the way, Nigel asked me to apologise again for having to cancel dinner.

He was afraid it was a bit abrupt on the phone, and he

really is terribly worried about this magazine of his.

Oh, do tell him no need to worry about that,

because, as it turned out, a few minutes after

he telephoned to cancel, old Henry phoned to

invite me round there. So that was all right.

Oh, smashing. For dinner, you mean?

Well, no, to babysit, actually.

Oh.

There's something I remember. There was a film on at the Arts.

Some old German classic that they seemed very fond of.

It was a kind of child murder, as far as I could make out from what he had said.

Still, syndrome, how boring for you.

Oh, no, no. I enjoyed it enormously. I used to babysit them all the time.

You know, it was lovely seeing them all again.

Susan, little Fanny, and as for Ben, my word, what a little devil.

Oh, he's full of mischief. He'd tell me that little Fanny had drowned in the bath.

When I ran in, there she was, lying face down, half floating about.

And I stood there thinking, Lord, what am I going

to say to Henry and Fanny when they get back?

Especially after seeing a film like that.

But it was all right, because it turned out

that it was only one of those enormous dogs.

No, no, not here. From there.

Front door.

Ah, morning, Mark-san. Morning, morning.

Are you all right?

Oh, yes, yes, fine, fine.

You're growing a beard.

What? Oh, Christ.

Oh, no, I've not been to bed, you see, all weekend.

I say, how's old Camellia?

Oh, she's...

She's fine, just fine.

Terrific.

And little Tom, too?

Tom, too. Oh, yes, Tom, too.

Last time I saw him, he was teething.

He was standing there in his high chair, dribbling away like anything,

while Camellia was sitting on old Mark's lap,

making faces at him with orange peel in her mouth.

Oh, Lord.

Mark, what is it?

I'm sorry. Sorry. It's nothing. I'm...

just digesting.

It's something you had for breakfast, is it?

Mm.

Do you want to talk about it?

I don't want anyone, anyone else to know, especially Thomas already.

I... I don't want them dripping their filthy compassion all over me.

We're to keep it to ourselves, St. John.

Oh, Lord, yes, of course.

With what, though?

She's left me.

Who?

Camellia, of course.

What?

Old Camellia?

Oh, no.

I'm taking Tom.

Taking Tom with her.

Oh, not little Tom, too.

Tom, too.

What did she say? Why?

Well, she...

She...

Well, I was up in the attic, writing away.

And as far as I knew, she was downstairs, where she usually is, in the kitchen.

Or Arning, with the television on.

And little Tom in bed, of course.

So I wrote on and on.

I felt inspired.

Quite inspired.

A moment about how I felt seeing Tom come out of her womb.

So shiny and whole and...

And beautiful.

It was a marvellous moment.

Full of my love for her and him.

And...

And when I finished it, I went downstairs to her, to read it

to her, as I always do when it's something I'm burning with.

And this was on the pillow.

I'm sorry, darling, but it seems, after all,

that I wasn't cut out to be a writer's wife.

I can't stand the strain of it, the lonely evenings, your remoteness, and most of all,

the feeling that your novel means more to you than Tom and I do.

But perhaps that's what being an artist is.

Not caring about those who love you.

I'm going back to Mother's.

I'll take the car.

Yes, take him the car.

I mean, she'd take the car all right, wouldn't she?

As you don't drive.

And begin proceedings as soon as I've got a lawyer.

Take care, my love.

Look after yourself.

I wish you success.

And know that one day I'll be proud to have been your first wife,

just as Tom will be proud to be your father.

And son, surely.

What?

Well, Tom's your son, not your father.

You read out that he was your father, not your son.

No, no, no, not that way.

No, through the front door.

Front door.

This is staff only.

Ah, it's your own, that's why.

Ah, good morning, everybody.

Good morning.

Anita, my dear.

Mark, Syngion.

I trust you all had a good weekend.

Yes, thank you.

Thank you, Eddie.

I'm just on my way through to do my little welcome speech to the new students.

With a small dilation this time about the problems of our Cambridge landladies.

We've just heard that our faithful Mrs.

Cornley is refusing to take any of our students,

except what she calls traditional foreigners,

all over some dreadful misunderstanding she's

had with those three really delightful Turks

we sent her over the proper function of the bathroom.

Such a nuisance.

I mean, Thomas has been on the phone with her for hours.

Nine Japanese have turned up, by the way.

Severely anticipated six.

And as for the three last time, we can hope for around a dozen next.

Mark, is it these fast-fading old eyes of mine?

Or did you forget to shave this morning? And yesterday morning, even?

No, no, no, Eddie. I was just thinking of growing a beard.

Alas. And what set the fair camellia to that?

Oh, I don't think so, Eddie.

Hmm?

I said I don't think so, mind, Eddie.

Oh, good, good.

Anita, my dear, may I pay you a compliment?

Yes, please, Eddie.

I like your hair even more that way.

Oh, well, thank you, Eddie.

Actually, I put it up for a dinner party we had last night.

It was a sort of editorial.

Editorial dinner, you see.

Ah, and the magazine's progressing well.

Also, we gathered from Nigel.

We bumped into him on the backs on Saturday afternoon.

Did he tell you?

No. No, he didn't.

He was having a conference with one of his co-editors, I suppose it was.

Oh, Geoffrey Pyne.

No, no, I don't think Geoffrey Pyne, my dear.

But perhaps co-edit Tress, I should have said.

One can't be too precise these days, can one?

Oh, was she blonde and rather pretty?

Oh, very pretty.

At least Thomas was much smitten.

You know what an eye he's got.

Ah, then that would be Amanda Southgate, yes.

I expect he was trying to persuade her to take on all the dog-bodying.

She's terrifically efficient.

She's an old friend of mine. We were at school together.

She's smashing, actually.

Good, good.

Now, St. John, what was it Thomas asked me to tell you?

Or was it Henry and Melanie I was to tell you?

Tell what to?

Oh, yes, of course, this postcard from one of your old students.

We couldn't resist having a look.

Postcards being somehow in the public domain, one always thinks,

at least when they're other people's.

Do read it out to Anita and Mark.

Don't be a modest, St. John.

I must, writing, be thanking you for all the

excellent times in your most glorified classes.

Your true Ferdinand Muller.

Oh, Lord.

And which one was he?

Can you recall?

Um...

Oh.

Well, he... He was German.

Postmarked Zurich, I believe.

So more likely a Swiss.

Oh, yes, that's right, he was a Swiss.

Yes, well, he was rather large, Eddie.

With a sort of round face.

In his forties or so.

And with his haircut on brass.

And wearing lederhosen, perhaps, and good at yodelling.

No, no, St. John, I don't think I quite believe in your rather caricatured Swiss.

I suspect you made rather more impression on

Herr Ferdinand Muller than he managed to make on you.

Still, I suppose that's better than Hathaway Round.

But his sentiments are certainly quite a tribute.

Well, that his English were, too, eh?

But do try to remember them, St. John.

Match names to faces.

And on that subject, you haven't forgotten that Mr.

Middleton begins today, have you?

Who, Eddie?

Middleton, Dennis Middleton, our new part-timer.

Thomas told you all about him at that last staff meeting.

He should be here any minute.

So while I'm making the students welcome,

perhaps you'll do the same for him

and tell him that Thomas or I will be along before the bell.

Mark!

Hmm?

Middleton, Mark.

Oh, yes, Eddie, yes, yes.

Good, good.

Well, see you all at the bell, then.

Oh, Mark, one other thing, if I could have just a quick private word.

Might I put in my personal plea against the beard.

I do think they make even the handsomest chaps

look red-eyed and snivelly-looking.

I mean, I shouldn't want to end up begging Camellia to be Delilah to your Samson.

Oh, yes.

And then make a poor little Tom having to endure Daddy's whiskers

against his chubby young cheeks at cuddle time.

What did I say?

It was only about the beard.

I couldn't have been more playful.

No, it's not your fault, Eddie.

The poor chap's had a horrible weekend.

I'll go and see if he's all right.

Could you direct me to the staff room, please?

What do you want?

I'm the new member of staff.

Oh, of course.

You're Mr Middleton, aren't you?

Yes.

Meadle, actually.

Derek Meadle.

Yes, yes.

Derek Meadle.

Yes.

And I'm Eddie Loomis, the principal.

One of two principals, as a matter of fact.

You've met Mr Cull, of course.

Yes.

And this is St John Quartermaine,

who's been with us ever since our school started.

Good evening.

And you've come down to join us from Huddersfield, isn't it?

Yes.

Well, Hull, actually.

Hull.

Good, good.

And when did you arrive?

Yesterday afternoon.

Aha.

Good, good.

And found yourself a room?

Yes, sir.

Thank you.

And found yourself a bicycle, too, I see.

Oh, yes.

My landlady happened to mention that her

son had left one behind in the basement, and that I could have it for two pounds.

Oh, good, good.

Most enterprising, at least, of your landlady.

But, Mr Meadle, I've got to go and talk to the

students, and Mr Cull is still looking after enrolment.

But one of us will be back before the bell to introduce you to your first class.

Intermediary comprehension, isn't it?

Dictation.

Right.

So I leave you in St. John's capable hands.

Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Oh, Mr Meadle, one thing, though.

Sir us no sirs.

We are very informal here.

I am Eddie, and Mr Cull is Thomas.

And you're Dennis.

What?

It's a minibus.

What?

Earth.

Good heavens, it's the Turks.

My three delightful.

But I must tell them they mustn't be really honest.

What?

Well, they cardiologically improve.

You're always a bit chaotic on the first day of term.

I must say, fairly gladly to have you with us.

And I think you'll enjoy it here.

The staff is - well, they are terrific.

And the students are very interesting, coming

as they do from all quarters of the globe So to speak.

But look, now do sit down and make yourself at home.

Oh, yes, thank you.

The trouble is, you see, I've had a bit of an accident.

Oh, Lord.

How bad is it, actually?

Oh. Well, they're...

a bit of a write-off, I'm afraid.

How did it happen?

Some bloody Japanese man. I rode into a little

pack of them as I was coming up the drive.

Oh, dear. What do you think I should do?

I mean, if I pull them up really high, like this, and leave my clips on,

does it still show?

Well, no, not really.

Look, I'll tell you what.

If you could just

get your jacket

down just a fraction.

But if I put my hands in my pockets like this, what about it?

Well, how does it feel?

Extremely unnatural. How do I look?

Jolly formidable, actually.

Well, you can't walk around like this all day.

I'm meant to be teaching!

It was my first day at my new job!

Sherry!

Sherry!

Henry! Come and meet our new chap.

Oh, yes, of course.

Merton, isn't it? Middleton, actually.

Meedle. Meedle, that's right.

I'm so sorry. Dennis Meedle.

Well, whatever yours happens to be, mine's Winscape.

Henry Winscape. How do you do? How do you do?

Very glad to have you with us. Thank you.

Henry's our academic tutor.

Syllabus and all that. Oh.

Oh, St. John, I didn't thank you properly last night for babysitting.

It was most kind.

No, no, not at all. I enjoyed it, Henry.

And how were they in the end?

Susan, little Fanny and little Ben?

Oh, fine, thank you, St. John, fine.

I didn't get Susan to bed till midnight, of course.

She's studying for her O-levels

a couple of years in advance.

Oh, by the way, though, she did have rather a bad moment,

actually, when she went to have a bath and

thought little Fanny was lagging it drowned.

Oh, yes, that blessed dog.

Yes, Ben told me he would put it there.

Yes, St. John was good enough to come over and sit for our three last night.

You went to

see Em, you know.

Such a fine film.

So delicate and human in its treatment of a sexual freak.

And Peter Lorre.

Unfortunately,

the print was a trifle worn, but

still memorable.

Memorable.

But isn't it interesting, on another subject,

this English thing about names.

The way we forget them the second we hear them.

Just now, for instance, when Cynthia was introducing you, unlike Americans,

you see,

I suppose it's because we, the English that is, are

so busy looking at the person the name represents,

or not looking, being English, that we

don't take in the name itself. Whereas the Americans,

you see, make a point of beginning with the name.

I mean, when once introduced, they repeat it endlessly.

This is Dennis Meadle.

Why, hello, Dennis.

And how long have you been in our country, Dennis?

This is Dennis Meadle, dear.

Dennis was just telling me how much he liked our fair city, weren't you, Dennis?

And so forth.

Derek, actually.

Ah, there's Melody.

Come and meet our new chap.

You're on top form for a Monday morning, Henry.

How do you do?

I'm Melanie Gar.

Meadle. Derek Meadle.

And you've come to reinforce us.

Well, we certainly could do with you. I've just been talking to

Thomas about the enrolment chaos.

You'll be getting a lot of overspill from my groups, I can tell you.

Melanie's our elementary conversation

specialist, by the way.

I don't know about specialist, Henry.

Henry's our only real specialist here.

He specialises in, well,

everything, doesn't he, St. John?

From pronunciation to British life and institutions.

But what I enjoyed most about the sight of you two philosophising away

here was that you both still had your bicycle

clips on, as if you'd met on a street corner.

Oh, good heavens, so they are.

Thank you for reminding me, my dear.

Whenever I forget to take them off, I spend hours

after school hunting for them.

Oh, I say, Melanie, how's Mother?

Oh, top form, thanks, St. John.

Her left leg's still giving her bother, and the stairs

are a dreadful stain, you know, because of the sudden vertigo.

But yesterday, she managed to hobble

down to the corner shop all by herself, and back.

Oh, that's terrific.

Melanie's mother's just recovering from a...

from a thing, Bob.

Stroke, if you please.

Thank you, St. John. She insists on the proper term.

She hates euphemisms. Not surprisingly,

as Melanie's mother was Cambridge's first lady of philology, I had the honour

of being supervised by her in my second year as an undergraduate.

I have an aunt who had a stroke about a year ago.

She was the active sort, too.

How's she coping?

Well, she was doing splendidly until she had the next one.

Now, she's pretty well out of it altogether.

My uncle has to do virtually everything for her.

But then that's the usual pattern, they said at the hospital. First, a mild

stroke, followed by a worse stroke, and if that doesn't do the job, then...

Yes.

Well, Mr.

Meadle, I'm sorry for your aunt, and for your uncle, but sufficient under the day.

Sufficient under the day.

Of course, that's only one of the possible patterns. There are many

cases of complete, or more than merely partial recovery, Dennis.

If I might, if I might just...

Melanie puts on a remarkably brave front, but don't be led astray.

She's an intensely feeling person, who knows

very well the likely outcome of her mother's.

And she's deeply attached to her, as you probably gather.

I hope you don't mind my... Oh, no, no, no, no.

Thank you. Thank you.

Good man.

Well, uh, I must unpack my own...

Well, not a tenth attacked, I thought.

Well, it is his first day, Melanie, my dear.

He didn't really understand. I don't think

he can stand much more of this.

What I really need is some safety pins and a few minutes in the toilet.

Yes, of course.

You come along with me.

Ah, good morning, Melanie, my dear.

Good morning, Henry.

Good weekend, I trust. Yes, thanks, Eddie.

Better hang on a bit.

All well with mother, I trust? Yes, thanks, Eddie.

Top form. Good, good.

And Fanny and the children? Yes, thanks, Eddie.

All splendid. Good, good.

Oh, and there you are, you two.

And Mark,

quite composed again, I trust.

Well, Eddie, actually, I'm not sure what Mark's quite up to.

And Mr.

Meadle, I don't know which of you have had the chance to meet him yet, but those who

haven't can make their separate introductions.

In the meanwhile, I'll say a welcome on behalf of us all.

We are delighted to have you with us.

Er, yes, you've still got your visor clips on, by the way.

Oh, yes.

Well, perhaps you'd better take them off, otherwise you may give

the impression that you're just peddling through.

Yes, well, as you are all here, a few minutes before the bell,

I would like to say a few words, if I may.

So, gather ye round,

gather ye round.

No doubt you all realize that we have an

an exceptionally high enrolment for the month.

The highest in the school's career,

as a matter of fact.

I say, terrific. Yes, very gratifying.

You all know how hard Thomas has worked

for this, though he'd loathe to hear me say so.

But what I think he wouldn't mind hearing me say

is that he in his turn knows how hard you've worked.

But success brings.

God!

His heart!

I can't feel his heart!

Oh, Lord.

Anyway, now that.

Wrist.

Neck.

Neck.

Good.

Arm.

Arm.

Elbow.

Do I have to write a letter, does anyone know?

I must write a letter.

Write.

Letter.

Four hundred years ago, when English was exported

to America, as it were, that it was a completely

different sounding language, very much broader.

Whoa!

You!

Question mark.

Right.

All done, all done!

Ah! Hello, Eddie.

You're in a sprightly mood,

St. John. Yes!

Well, Friday evening you know, and I'm off to the theatre to

I was giving them a lecture on Oxford colleges, with slides, to give them the

other point of view, for once, you see.

But I just got going, blow me tight, the old projector broke.

Broke? Peony just bought it, it's the newest model.

Yes, well, I think that's part of the problem, all those extra bits to master.

Anyway, one of the colleges went in upside

down and wouldn't come out. So I had to abandon technology and do it all off my own

down, so to speak, you know, reminiscences of my time at the house and the anecdotes

and so forth, the personal touch. But, of course, I ran out of time, and I had to go

out of steam a little before the end, I'm afraid. And how many turned up?

Oh, about a handful. A handful? Well, a good handful.

But there were meant to be 23 in that group.

Yes, well, I think you know that it's being Friday and the sun shining and the backs so

lovely and the cam jam-packed with punts.

But the ones who did come were jolly interested,

especially that little Italian girl. Do you know, she's almost midget-sized.

She's the one with the wart. If you mean Angelina, she happens to be Greek.

Her father's an exceptionally distinguished army officer.

Well, really, St.

John, I'm afraid Thomas will be very disappointed to

hear about all this. He devised this lecture

series himself, you know. It's quite an innovation.

And if you can't keep attendances up, and

you know how important it is to have classes going at least until the bell...

Oh, hello, my dear. You're finished a bit on the early side, too, I see.

Oh, isn't it past five?

Well, the bell hasn't gone yet, even in your part of the corridor.

And how was your attendance?

Oh, nearly a full complement, Eddie.

They're a very keen lot, mostly Germans.

In fact, that's why I thought the bell had gone. One of them said he'd heard it.

Which one?

I think it was Kurt.

Hmm, I see.

My dear, have I told you what I think about your sandals?

No, Eddie.

I think they're smashing.

Well, when I first saw you in them, I wondered

whether they were quite commutative. Oh, Thomas,

and I had quite a thing about them. They've been quite one round. I've come to the view

that they're most fetching. Or your feet are. Or both.

Thank you, Eddie.

And Nigel's still in London. Is he with his co-editress?

Yes. Yes, he gets back on Saturday or Sunday.

Quite a coincidence, Thomas, seeing them in the train like that. He's hardly moved out

of his office for many a month, as you know.

And it's all going along all right, then?

Yes. Amanda's been absolutely smashing.

Quite a surprise, really, because when I first met

her at a party a few months ago, I thought

she was, well, absolutely charming, of course,

but rather, rather feckless, if anything. But it turns out she's got a really good,

tough brain. Her boyfriend's being a great help, too. He's invaluable.

And you met her at a party? How odd. I had an idea you went to school with her.

No, no.

With her sister, Serafina.

Ah, well. Yes, but I was really asking about the magazine, how that was coming.

Oh, well, they've finally settled on a title. It's going to be called Reports.

Terrific. Reports.

Well, tell Nigel when he comes back that Thomas

has decided to take out two subscriptions,

one for ourselves and one for the students' common room. So we should be taking a great

personal interest.

Oh, thank you, Eddie. Nigel will be so pleased.

Now, I can't stay very long, I'm afraid, but I can start to...

Ah, the croquis is under way again. Let's see who's playing.

Ballet. Good.

Piconaut, Jean-Pierre, Gisela, Teresa.

It is made of wood.

Careful, O'Corey, careful.

And O'Corey, of course. That chap seems to be everywhere.

No, no, no.

And Liv and Goethe.

Now, watch carefully. This is nothing like an easy as it looks.

You know, I always feel that if ever our little school needed to justify itself,

we could do it by showing the world the spectacle

of an Italian, a Frenchman, a German, a Japanese,

a Danish girl and a Swedish girl,

all gathered together on an English lawn under an English sky

to play a game of croquis.

Absolutely, Eddie, absolutely croquis.

Ah.

I must try my hand again.

I haven't for years.

Not since my aunt's when I was a child.

And she had such a lawn, you know.

I remember...

Oh.

Oh, Lord, I forgot.

What is it, St. John?

Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing.

It's just that I forgot.

Thomas told me to tell you that he was looking for you.

Thomas?

When?

Well, just at the end of my last lecture.

He popped his head in.

Well, really, St. John, I wish you'd mentioned it straight away.

It must be something urgent for Thomas to interrupt a class like that.

Was he going back to the office?

He didn't say, Eddie.

Oh, Mark!

Did you happen to glimpse Thomas?

Yes, Eddie.

He and Melanie were going out to the flat to collect a cookbook or something.

Oh, well, if you should come down here looking for me,

tell him I've gone upstairs to the flat and that I'll stay there

so that we don't do one of our famous boxes and coxswains.

Oh, yes.

Right, Eddie.

Well, that's a good idea.

Isn't he in a dodgy mood?

But I say, now, where shall we meet, Anita?

Shall Mark and I come and pick you up at your place?

Or shall we go to Mark's place?

Or the foyer?

Or we could go to the coach and horses?

Or you two could come to my flat?

Oh, I'm sorry, St. John.

I completely forgot.

You see, I'm going to London.

It suddenly occurred to me that as Nigel can't get back until tomorrow or Sunday,

why not hop down and spend the weekend with him?

Oh, what a good idea.

Spend the weekend in London with Nigel.

Much more fun than summer leaves.

Does he know you're coming?

No, it's a surprise.

Well, shouldn't you ring him first?

I mean, he may be going... I haven't got time.

Look, I've got to dash if I'm going to make the 5.30.

Damn, Eddie.

Oh, Christ.

Poor old Nigel.

Hmm?

Well, surely you know.

What?

About Nigel and Amanda Southgate.

He only started the magazine because of her.

She's got literary ambitions.

Cynge and they're having a passionate affair.

How?

How?

I don't know.

Oh, Lord.

Poor old Anita.

But they always seem so happy.

Cynge and you have an amazing ability not to let the world impinge on you.

Anita is the unhappiest woman I know at the

moment and has been ever since she met Nigel.

Amanda's his fifth affair in the last two years, even if the most serious.

And Anita tries to cover up for him, pretends it isn't happening, or tries

to protect a reputation he hasn't got or probably doesn't want, anyway.

She's had three abortions, to the best of my knowledge.

Three.

Although she's desperate for children.

Haven't you had the slightest inkling of any of that?

No.

Then what I can't understand is why she's gone down there to confront him.

I mean, she's only survived so far by not daring to have anything out with him.

But anyway, there's nothing we can do.

I don't even have his telephone number, so I can't ring and warn him.

But don't you like Anita?

But of course I do.

Much more than I like Nigel, as a matter of fact.

Oh.

Oh.

Hmm.

Well, it all seems...

I mean, it all seems...

Well, I mean, these things between people...

People that one cares for...

It's rather hard to bear them.

But anyway, look here, what about this evening, then?

I mean, how would you like to play it?

What?

Coaching horses, or should we meet at the theatre?

Well, as a matter of fact, Simms,

I'm going to have to bow out of the theatre as well.

Oh.

Oh, well.

Yes, I went back to it again last night, you see.

My novel.

The first time since Camellia left.

Well, there was the old flame flickering away as strongly as ever.

I ought to get back to it this evening.

I mean, you haven't actually gone and bought the tickets, have you?

No, no, no, no.

Never any need to at the arts.

Don't you worry about that.

It's terrific that you've started writing again.

Well, that's far more important than going to see someone who lives here.

Thank you.

And thanks, St. John, for your companionship these last few weeks.

It must have been bloody boring for you, having me grind on and on in my misery.

Oh, good Lord, no.

I've enjoyed it enormously.

Well, not your misery.

But I say, have you heard from Camellia?

Yes, this morning.

She's allowing me a few hours tomorrow afternoon with my son.

That's wonderful, Mark.

Now then, look here.

When will you be back?

Well, tomorrow evening, I suppose.

Well, then perhaps we could have lunch on Sunday.

Or dinner.

Well, we could meet for a drink.

And you could tell me how things went with little Tom.

I'd really love to know.

Blast!

You all right, Homer?

Yes, it's that doorknob.

I almost catch my finger in it.

Hello, Mark.

Haven't seen you around for a bit.

I suppose because you've always gone before I finish.

Oh, don't worry.

I do my time.

Right to the bell.

Oh, I didn't mean any reflection.

It's just that I always seem to get caught by my students.

They want to practice their English after hours, too.

Of course, it doesn't help having a conversation piece on me for it.

What's the matter?

Herd, Mr. Meikle.

Mr. Meikle, what's the matter with the herd?

Herd, Meikle, what's the matter with the herd?

Up the corridor, down in the garden, in the classroom.

By the time I've gone through all the details,

with pantomime, landlady calling to the telephone,

toe stubbing in crack linoleum,

body pitching down the stairs, bolts cracking down on time,

I'd have settled for serious internal injuries instead.

Good night.

Night, young man.

Oh, just a minute.

We haven't fixed our meeting.

Hard chap to get to know, isn't he?

Who?

Why, Earl Mark.

Oh, Lord, no.

Well, perhaps to begin with, but once you do

know him, you can't imagine a better friend.

I'll keep working on it, then.

I say, I've managed to get some tickets for the theatre tonight.

They're doing an Ibsen.

Would you like a cup?

Um, well, Ibsen's not really my cup of tea, thanks.

But as a matter of fact, Uncle Ree's taking me out to dinner with some of the boys.

Uncle what?

Ree. Uncle Ree, my Japanese chum.

Oh, that chap.

He's taking you out to dinner, is he?

Oh, well, that's...

Well, I didn't know that you'd hit it off with him so well after your trouser thing.

Oh, well, I never thought they'd made me skid delicious.

Oh, well, you know, we've had lots of laughs about it since.

Uncle Ree's got a splendid sense of humour.

Loves a drink, too, I gather, from some of their jokes.

Well, you ought to have a good evening, then.

It's really just to say thanks for all the extra hours I've spent with them.

They've left it to me to decide where to go.

We're going to that little French place that's just opened opposite Trinity.

Eddie and Thomas are saying it's really very good.

Do I hear.

I didn't ask you along, but it's not really my invitation.

No, no, I quite understand.

Hello, Melanie.

Oh, let me help you, girls.

No, no, really, it was me... Why don't you just take this one, eh?

I...

I'm sorry, it's... I had them perfectly well.

Thomas has just given me that one with great warnings.

To be careful, it's a rare edition.

If you would just put it on the table.

As I've heard you've seen Eddie.

Thomas has been looking for him.

Ah, now, what did Eddie say?

Oh, yes, that he was going to wait Thomas in the, um...

in the office, it must have been.

Oh, good.

That's where Thomas has gone.

So, you're the last two, then, are you?

Yeah.

Well, apart from old Henry, that is, he's playing croaky.

Is he?

Dolly good.

No damage done, Melanie.

So, Thomas is in the office, then, is he?

Yes.

Why?

What do you want him for?

Ah, it's just that he said he'd see about getting me

some extra pronunciation classes as I'm part-time.

I need all the hours I can get, you see.

I shouldn't go to startling him now, if I were you.

He's had a bit too much fun.

He's got a dreadful headache.

The only person he'll want to see is Eddie.

Ah.

Oh, well, in that case, I'll say good night, then, Melanie.

Good night.

Oh, that reminds me.

I'd be very grateful if you'd stop putting your

bike against the wall where I leave my car.

There's not enough room for both.

Oh, sorry about that, Melanie.

Um, right.

Well, see you Monday, then.

See you Monday, old man.

I really think I'd get on much better with Mr. Meadle

if he didn't try so hard to get on with me.

Oh.

Bye, Henry.

See you Monday.

Oh.

Yes.

Night, Jerry.

Have a good weekend.

Bye.

Thank you.

Thomas really is in a terrible state.

He spent the whole afternoon on the telephone because of that wretched chap.

You know, Elko Ree.

Apparently, he got drunk and ran amok in that new French restaurant last night.

The owners are demanding damages and threatening

to call the police if he turns up again.

And then one of the other Japanese turned

up at lunchtime to book a table for tonight.

Goodness knows what will happen if Elko Ree appears, too.

Well, St. John, what are your plans for the weekend?

Something on the boil I'll bet.

Well, I thought I might take in a show tonight.

You know, that Ibsen thing of the arts.

I thought it was the cherry orchard.

Is it really?

Oh, well, it's something terrific like that.

Then a bite of supper, I suppose.

I might try.

Try that new French place, in fact.

Might be rather amusing.

Must be jolly nice being a bachelor and having the weekend before you.

Especially in Cambridge.

Yes, it's really fun.

Well, I'd better get on with this.

I don't think Thomas really wants me to take it off the premises.

Oh, right, yeah.

I say, Melanie.

Do you like the cherry orchard?

Loathe it.

Oh, why?

Oh, all that Russian doom and gloom.

People shooting themselves out of loneliness and depression.

That sort of thing.

And Mother says they don't really understand comedy.

I expect she's right.

How's Mother?

Top hole, thanks, Injun.

Well, if there's ever anything that I can do.

You know, she wants company.

That's why you thought we'd love you, Injun.

Thank you.

No, no, no.

Enjoy.

I say, that's an impressive term that old Thomas has learned.

What are you copying out exactly?

Recipes.

This one's for roasted swan.

Ah.

For a dinner party.

No, no, Injun.

It's for my British life and institutions lot.

To give them some idea of what a medieval banquet was like.

Swans are protected birds.

These days, you know.

Oh, yes, of course they are.

Well, God, I fancy thinking that you'd give them for a dinner party.

But aren't they the most beautiful creatures?

I was looking at one just the other day.

It was on the cam, you know, drifting behind a pond.

They were all shouting and drinking champagne.

It was just drifting behind them, so calm.

I remember there used to be...

Ooh, a dozen or so.

They came every year to a pond that was near my aunt's when I was...

And I could hear their wings.

Great wings beating in the evenings when I was lying in bed.

It could be quite frightening, you know.

Even after I knew what was making the noise.

The next morning, there they'd be.

A dozen of them.

So just drifting, just drifting around.

And, you know, it was hard to imagine...

seeing their long necks twining in their way of drifting.

All that power.

Those great wings beating.

Sildon, please don't think me fearfully rude, but I must try and finish this.

And I can't write and talk at the same time, you see.

Hmm?

Oh, no, no, I'm so sorry, Melanie.

No, you're quite right, I can't either.

Anyway, I ought to be getting on.

Yes, it's such a full evening.

I do hope you enjoy it.

Yes.

Well, night, Melanie.

See you Monday.

And don't forget about your mother.

Any time.

I won't, Sildon.

Good night.

So I'll leave it to you, but do please be careful, O'Carrie.

I see.

Henry?

Yes?

Any chance of a game?

No, I've just finished, I'm afraid.

But perhaps next week.

Right.

I'll hold you to that.

Oh, by the way, if you want any babysitting done

over the weekend, I'll try and make myself available.

Oh, right, I'll put it to Fanny.

I know she's very keen to see the young cool Vanya at the art.

Um, perhaps tomorrow night?

A votre disposition.

Night, old man.

Night.

Hello, Melanie.

My dear, I thought everyone had gone.

How are they taking to the croquet?

At present, they find it a bit sedate, I think.

But another time or two around, they'll discover just how

much incivility is possible on our tranquil English lawns.

Now, I haven't thought myself out.

I promise, Fanny, I'll be home by six.

Now, where's my briefcase?

All right.

And a pile of Unseens, I seem to remember, to be marked by Monday.

How is Fanny?

Oh, very well, thanks.

Very well.

A bit tired in the evenings.

What with the children on the one hand, and the two hours voluntary of the OAPs.

But she's enjoying every minute of her day.

And the children?

Are all well?

Oh, yes, they're fine.

Well, Susan's a little tense at the moment, actually, with her O levels.

It's a pity she's taking them so soon, I think.

But she insists.

She's in with a particularly bright lot, and she

doesn't want to fall behind or let herself down.

So, she works away till all hours.

Sometimes, after Fanny and I have gone to bed.

But she's beginning to develop an interest in, well,

philosophical speculation, I'd suppose you'd call it, really.

The other evening, she insisted.

It was in the middle of supper, and she'd hardly said a word till then.

She suddenly insisted that we couldn't prove that other people existed.

And that perhaps when we saw them, or remembered them, or saw

and heard them even, we were actually just making them up.

Well, of course, I took her up on this, and attempted

to explain how it is we do know other people exist.

Including people we don't know exist.

If you'll follow me.

And she kept saying, But you can't prove it, Daddy. You can't actually prove it.

And she was right. I found myself getting quite tangled up in my own arguments.

I've always thought she was the one who takes most after you.

Yes, yes, perhaps she does. Perhaps she does.

I'm afraid I'd rather like to think so, anyway.

But you haven't seen her for ages, have you?

You really must come over soon. Fanny would love to see you.

Well, we all would.

That would be lovely.

Right. I'll get her to give you a ring over the weekend, or...

Good.

Nice. Well.

Oh, by the way, I've been meaning to ask you, how's your

mother's day nurse working out? With the name out of Dickens?

Nurse Grimes?

Right.

Well enough so far. She seems a very efficient, cheerful little soul.

A little too cheerful, perhaps, for my taste.

Because, apparently, she belongs to one of these peculiar revivalist

sects that seem to be springing up all over the place now.

You know, meeting in each other's homes and chanting

prayers and dancing about in their love of God.

Oh, Lord.

At least that's how she describes it. But Mother seems to like her.

Well, that's the main thing, isn't it?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Yes, well, do give her my... my very best.

See you Monday, Melanie, my dear.

See you Monday, Henry.

Oh, what on earth can I be thinking of going on with

all these in my arms and leaving my briefcase behind?

I do that sort of thing, don't I?

I think more and more now.

That is premature senility.

Or did I get switched to the wrong track and think I was going off to teach?

I suppose I must have done as I went out that way.

Melanie?

Melanie?

Is something the matter?

She hates me, you see.

Who?

Mother.

Oh, Melanie, I'm sure she doesn't.

When I get home in the evening, do you know what she does?

She sits there for hours, refusing to speak.

Then when I get her supper on the table, she refuses to eat.

I know she can only work one side of her face now, but she can eat perfectly well.

Then when I try to feed her, she lets the food

fall out of her mouth and stares at me with such...

Malevolence.

Until suddenly she'll say something... something utterly...

Last night she said,

It's not my fault you've spent your life in my home. I never wanted you here.

But as you're too stupid and too unattractive

to make any reasonable man a wife,

I've accepted the responsibility for you.

And now I need you at last. You refuse to pay your debt.

Coming out of the side of her mouth like a... like a gangster.

One of those films you used to take me to.

And she wets herself. She wets herself all the time.

Oh, Melanie, I'm so sorry.

Of course, I realize that last attack must have left her

more incapacitated and possibly even a little incontinent.

She's not incontinent, Henry. She does it on purpose, out of spite.

She never does it with grimes, only with me.

She says that as I'm behaving like an neglectful

parent, she'll behave like a neglected child.

The only child I'll ever have.

Of course, she adores grimes, or tends to.

She started giving her things. Things that belong to me that she knows I love.

Just the other day, a silly lithograph of a

donkey that's hung in my room all my life almost.

Of course, grimes gives them back.

The worst thing is...

I'm beginning to hate her.

I hate going home.

Or when I'm there, to have such dreadful feelings.

Because the thought of years. It could be years, apparently.

Years of this.

So...

Wishing she'd have another attack and... die now.

Dreadful.

Too dreadful.

Almost imagining myself...

doing something to...

get her out of the way.

She must love you, really, mustn't she?

Well, she wouldn't resent your being away from her so much.

I can't give up my teaching, Henry. I can't.

You're getting me this job was...

the best thing that ever happened to me.

Of course, she's always despised it.

Even before she was ill.

She said that...

teaching foreigners was a job for failures.

But I love it, and I'm not going to give it up.

I only wish that I could give you some comfort, my dear.

And you do, Henry.

You know, just being here...

and knowing that you care...

makes all the difference.

All the difference.

It always has.

What a fool I was not to marry you when you gave me the chance.

I keep thinking about it now.

And what she said about...

your being too young and not knowing what you were doing...

blighting your career.

Even then, she was my enemy.

My real enemy.

Of course, I'm...

glad you're so happy.

I would never have made you so happy.

I know.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Oh, there, there, my dear.

There, there.

Mustn't they get the past?

It's the future.

The future.

The future.

The future.

Perhaps I'd better...

I'd better just...

Hello.

Oh, hello, Nigel.

Yes, it is.

No, Anita's gone, I'm afraid.

At least, I think she has.

Have you seen Anita the last half-hour?

No, Melony hasn't seen her either, so...

And I'm pretty sure... Yes, of course I know.

Yeah. Yeah.

You're phoning from Liverpool Street.

You're about to catch a 6.13, so you'll be home before 8.

Right, fine. Got that. Oh! Nigel! Yeah.

Good luck with the first issue. We're all looking forward to it enormously.

Yeah, right. Bye!

Nigel for Anita. She's probably gathered.

Look, Melanie,

you must come around. Have a real talk with Fanny.

Take you out of yourself. Away from your problems. Thank you, Henry.

No, we'd love to see you. I'll get her to ring you, all right?

And now I must... I really must... Get back. Yes.

Well, see you Monday, my dear. Monday, Henry.

Yes.

Bye.

Oh, hello, Eddie. Is Thomas in there? No, he's not.

Oh, I can't make it out. I've looked everywhere. Everywhere up in the flat.

All the classrooms and the office. And the phone going all the time about

some of our Japanese and that French restaurant.

And they're not even French, it turns out. They're from Wiltshire.

I don't know what Thomas said to them. I didn't know anything about it.

He knows I can't deal with that sort of thing. And now he's booked a table

for the two of us tonight at their request, forcing us to take full responsibility.

Really, I don't see what it's got to do with the

school if a few Japanese can't hold their drinks.

I don't know why he agreed. I mean, it's all too.

.. too... Now, Eddie, now, you must see why you'll make yourself ill.

It's not worth it. Why don't you go upstairs to the flat and have a rest?

I'm sure it'll all sort itself out in the end.

You know Thomas, he'll get it completely under control.

He always does in the end.

Well, of course, you're right, my dear. Thank you, thank you.

And a little rest. And I'll try and persuade Thomas to have one, too.

That's right. You both need it. Oh, and would you give this back

to him when you see him and tell him I'm terribly sorry.

A page of it seems to have got torn.

Ah, Mr. Meadle insisted on snatching it out of my hands and then dropped it.

He was only trying to be helpful, of course.

But you know how clumsy he is.

Yes, of course, and it's one of our favourite books.

Thomas will find it difficult to forgive Meadle.

Oh, by the way, how's mother?

Oh, top-old, thank you, Eddie.

Good, good.

See you Monday. Yes, see you Monday.

Oh, good.

Hello, Eddie.

Oh, hello, St. John. I thought you'd gone.

No, I just thought I'd see if there's anyone still about.

No, no, they all left.

Ah.

Well, good night then, St. John.

Good night, Eddie. See you Monday.

Yes, see you Monday.

Hello, St. John.

Hello.

Anybody?

Deep in thought.

Hmm?

No, no, no.

No, just...

Well, you know.

Ah.

Did you have a good half-term?

Oh, yes, thanks, yes.

What did you do?

Did you go away?

Well, uh...

Uh, no.

No, I stayed here.

Here?

Yes.

In Cambridge, you mean.

Just for a moment, I thought you meant actually here.

In this room.

I think perhaps because last time I saw you,

you were sitting in exactly the same place.

In very much that position.

As if you hadn't moved all week.

Oh.

I say, it's good to be back, isn't it?

Well, I could have done with a little longer myself.

I say, Henry.

What did you do for the half?

Oh, well, nothing.

Very exciting, really.

We packed ourselves into the caravan.

Took ourselves off to a spot we'd heard about in Norfolk.

Well, that sounds terrific.

Hmm.

Hmm, well...

Oh, what was it?

It rained fairly steadily.

All the week, in fact.

So we didn't get out as much as we'd have liked.

Which was a shame, really.

Because, among other things, we were hoping that a few jaunts would cheer Susan up.

Oh, what?

She bit low, then?

She's still brooding over her O-level results.

I mean, we keep telling her that at her age,

six positive passes,

I mean, you know, threes and fours is jolly good.

But she seems to feel she's let herself down.

But I'll tell you what we did see.

It really was most extraordinary.

One morning, about six it was,

I was up trying to plug the leech.

It was right over little Fanny's bunk.

So she was awake, and so was Ben.

And Susan hadn't slept all night.

So it was all rather fraught.

You know, tempers free.

But Fanny, she'd gone outside to the loo, as a matter of fact.

And suddenly she called to us, all of us.

Told us to put on our max and wellies and come outside and look.

And we did.

And their silhouette against the sky was the most.

the most...

Greetings, Henry.

Hello.

Hello.

Have a good holiday.

Yes, thanks, Henry. Very, very good indeed.

What about you?

Yes, yes, I've just seen you.

We went to Norfolk.

A little wet, but there really was one very remarkable...

well, moment is all it amounted to, really.

A temporal... Sounds marvellous. Thomas around yet, is he?

I haven't seen him.

Have you, Ginger?

Thomas, have you seen him?

No.

No.

No, but I expect he's here somewhere.

I say.

Uh, Dennis,

do you have a good holiday?

Who's Dennis, Ginger?

Hmm?

You said Dennis instead of Derek.

And it's already said he had a very good holiday.

Oh.

What do you do?

I went to Sheffield, as a matter of fact.

Sheffield! I know it well.

Fanny and I went there the year before Susan was born.

It was a great tour of out-of-the-way urban domestic architecture.

I've got a great affection for Sheffield.

What were you doing there?

Oh, attending my aunt's funeral, as a matter of fact.

Why?

Oh, Derek, I'm so sorry.

How upsetting for you.

Yes, it was, yes. Very, very.

But when I asked you, you did say,

perhaps it was merely social reflex,

that you'd had a good half-term.

Oh, well, actually, I met someone there I used to know,

and managed to see quite a lot of her, as it happens.

That was the good part of it.

Not my aunt's death, I need hardly say.

Ah. Who was she?

Oh, just a girl, St. John.

We were at Hull University together.

She was doing the library course.

But we lost contact, for various reasons.

Though I didn't forget her.

And then when I had to take back all my poor aunt's

library books, there she was, behind the counter.

What was she doing there?

Well, stamping the books in and out, of course.

What do you think she was doing?

Well, don't worry about St. John.

One of his absent days, eh, St. John?

What, Henry?

But how nice for you to bump into her like

that, especially in those circumstances, eh?

Listen, I can't tell you what a blessing it turned out to be.

As soon as she was off work, she'd come over and sit with me and my uncle.

And on a couple of evenings,

when I had to go out and console some of my aunt's friends,

she'd come over anyway and sit with him by herself.

He's very keen on sport,

but he can't follow it in the papers because his eyesight's

nearly gone and they're too quick for him on the radio.

So she'd read out all the teams and their scores,

which was very tiring for her.

She's got a bit of a speech impediment, actually.

Oh, what a nice girl she sounds, eh, St. John?

What, Henry?

What a nice girl Derek's friend sounds.

Mmm! Oh, yeah!

Yes, he's smashing.

Yes.

Tell me...

what are her legs like?

What?

Good heavens, St. John, what an extraordinary question.

What?

Oh, no, no, I'm sorry.

It's just that I was trying to imagine.

I sort of sing about girls' legs.

I can't stand them if they're dumpy.

Or, you know, stumpy.

Well, let's just say, shall we, St.

John, that Daphne's legs happen to be my sort of legs.

Your sort of legs?

The sort of legs

that you happen to like.

Look, St. John, there's a matter I was very much

hoping to have a conversation with Henry about.

As a matter of fact, it's rather urgent.

Oh, I'm sorry. Go ahead.

Well, the thing is, St.

John, it's a confidential matter.

Right. Well, I'll go and have a little stroll in the garden, then.

Tell you the truth, my head feels a little...

well,

little as if it could do with some air.

Thanks very much, St. John. That's very decent of you.

No, no, not at all.

I say,

I say,

what a beautiful morning.

I can't help wondering sometimes about old Courtney.

I can't imagine a more charming fellow, but really, from a student's point of view,

do you know what one of the advanced Swedes was telling me just before half-term?

I think it would be better, really,

really much better, if we didn't

find ourselves discussing a colleague and a friend.

Oh, no, of course not, Henry.

Oh, you're quite right.

I meant no slur on St. John.

Of course you didn't.

Of course you didn't.

But now, you said you had something urgent to discuss?

Yes, Henry.

Well, the thing is, I've been here a year now,

and Thomas said when I started

that it wouldn't be long before I'd be made a permanent,

and yet here I am, you see, still on part-time.

And part-time isn't really very satisfactory for you, then?

Well, no, it isn't, Henry, frankly.

I get paid one pound, two and sixpence for every hour I teach.

Well, surely, darling, one pound, two and sixpence isn't such a bad rate, is it?

Yes, but you see, I don't get paid during the vacations.

So even though I'm doing

twice as many hours as, well, St.

John, for example,

I get, in fact, slightly less than half of what St.

John gets over the year.

I mean, take this half-term we've just had.

Well, a week of paid holiday for everybody

else, but a week of no money at all for me.

It was just luck that my aunt died

when she did, otherwise I might have had to have missed

an earning week to go to her funeral and sort out my uncle, you see.

And last Christmas,

I've kept this very quiet, but last Christmas I had to be a postman.

Oh, dear. Yes, and it wasn't just the work,

Henry, it was the sheer embarrassment.

Twice during my second round, I nearly bumped into

some of our students, and once Thomas himself went right past me in the car.

It was a miracle he didn't see me,

especially as I'd just slipped on some ice

and was lying on the pavement with the letters

scattered everywhere, and now the summer holidays

are coming ahead.

I've already sent in my application to be an entertainment officer at a holiday camp.

Oh, have you? Yes.

And now Daphne's back in the picture.

Well, you've probably gathered from what I was

saying that we're pretty serious about each other,

and I don't want to keep her waiting around with a long engagement.

There's been a lot of tragedy in that family, Henry.

Oh, dear. I won't go into it now,

if you don't mind. Not that Daphne tries to conceal it.

She's too straightforward for that.

Well, I must say, she sounds a very remarkable young lady.

Yes, I consider myself a very lucky man.

So what do you think, Henry?

I know how much Eddie and Thomas respect you.

You have a strong case, a very strong case,

and as we all know, Thomas and Eddie are very...

I'm going to try and nab Thomas this morning for a few minutes.

I think they'd respond most sympathetically to all you've told me about yourself.

Well, how should I go about it with him?

Good morning, Henry.

Hello, Mark. Have a good holiday.

You didn't notice if Thomas was in his office, did you?

Yes, just on his way down.

I say, I like the chin.

That's a comparatively unexplored area, isn't it?

How did you come by it? Not shaving, I trust?

No, not shaving. Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it later.

Thanks for your advice, Henry.

Most helpful.

Not at all. Eddie too glad.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Eric!

Eric!

Is Eddie gone?

Lost.

What's the matter?

I think we had a slight misunderstanding.

He's under the impression I was advising him to go and

see Thomas about being put on a more permanent basis.

And the truth is, I was going on to explain to him

that in spite of the strong claim he has, he should, well, in my view anyway,

hold his horses for the moment.

Of course, I do sometimes feel,

I mean, strictly between ourselves, that it is

hard on Meadal as the only part-time teacher.

Oh, I shouldn't worry about Meadal.

Even St. John's observed that he's one of these people who always lands on his feet.

Even though he damages a toe in the process.

No, the main thing is to make certain it's his, and not yours.

Well, Henry, peacemaker, apostle,

and saint, what sort of half did you have?

Oh, we did the usual sort of thing.

Took the caravan to a spot near the broads. The weather wasn't too splendid.

But, as I was telling St. John, I think it was, there was

one rather exceptional experience.

To tell you the truth, I've never seen anything quite like it.

Fanny actually wrote a small sort of

prose poem about it.

Really? I didn't know Fanny wrote.

But listen, on that subject, I must tell you, I've finished.

Finished?

The novel, old cheese. Oh, Mark.

Well, congratulations. Congrats, Henry.

Of course, it's still under the first draft,

but I feel in my guts that it is the first

draft of the final version, and damn near the thing itself, actually.

Because of the way it happened, you see.

What I did was, I put everything that I'd previously written into a box, round about

3,000 pages, and lugged it into the cellar and started again, completely from scratch.

Just me, the typewriter, in a carton of paper.

Oh, I was quite frightened, actually.

But it was all perfectly simple.

No strain, no effort.

Almost no thought, just a

steady, untaxing, continuous flow of creation.

For a whole week, it was the closest I'd ever come,

Henry, probably ever will come, to a mystical experience.

Oh, I envy you. I once tried to write a novel.

But as Fanny said, my forte, if I have a forte... But the thing is,

though, the thing is, it proves to me that I'm a novelist.

And the doubts I've had since Camelia left, and

then, worst of all, Henry, worst of all, the envy.

I mean, I read the reviews, seen the photographs

of other novelists, the real ones, ones that

get published, people...

I mean, people I knew had been up with.

Dear God, there was a man at Trinity, an absolute imbecile.

His second novel came out last month.

Well received, too, and

I saw his face in the middle of some interview he'd given.

That same imbecile face with a smirk added

that I used to see sitting opposite me in hall.

I...

I, uh... Yeah, well, I'd better not go into what I wanted to do to him.

And all these women that are being published everywhere, Henry.

I mean, everyone!

Everyone but me! Well, I mean, that's what I was beginning

to think, as if they'd got something through

some genetic accident, like an extra gland or double joints that

I hadn't, and that they could do it again and again.

And while I was working away like some drudge, some lunatic drudge who'd given

up his wife and child and hours and hours of his life, and would

go on and on, drudging through thousands and thousands of pages,

not one of them publishable, to the end of my life.

So I suppose

what I've

discovered at long last is...

Well, come on, let's use the word.

My talent.

I mean, perhaps it's been growing down there in the dark all this time, and

finally it's strong enough to take over, eh?

Anyway, all I've got to do now is a bit of pruning, no doubt some tightening up,

and correct the spelling and typing errors, and float an extract

or two in Nigel's currently fashionable little

magazine I have been promising him for years.

All clear, then?

What?

Oh, good heavens, St. Jude, yes.

Yes, yes, I'd forgotten you were still out there.

No, no, I enjoyed it.

And to tell you the truth, it seems you've cleared my head. Oh, good.

Hello, Mark. Hello, St. Jude.

Did you have a good holiday?

Oh, yes, yes, terrific, yes, terrific.

And how were they?

Who? Camellia.

And little Tom, too.

Well, weren't you going to see them over the half-time?

St. Jude, I would be awfully grateful

if you would stop referring to him as little Tom

and little Tom, too. It makes him sound like something out of the workhouse.

Oh, right. No, actually, you know, they were unavailable.

He was recovering for months or so, Camellia claimed.

So she took them to her friends to convalesce.

They have a cottage by the sea.

And, of course, I couldn't offer him that. Could I?

Hmm.

What a pity. I didn't know you were stuck in

Cambridge over the half. You'd have got... Hi, Anita.

Hello, Anita. Hello.

I say, you're swelling along pleasantly.

Rapidly, too.

But you look...

you look...

I mean, in just a week.

Good Lord. Well, it's taken a bit longer than a week, Syndrome.

No, no, I mean, just like Fanny,

nothing shows for ages, and then one day suddenly there it is for the world to see.

How's Nigel getting on in New York?

Oh, he decided not to go.

He suddenly became convinced.

He had a dream, or something, that I'd spawn prematurely.

So he stayed at home and mucked up on all the texts.

Spock for practical.

Blake and D. H.

Lawrence, and some Indian writer he's discovered is going to publish for

Significant, which was lovely for me, as I didn't have to go to my parents.

I spent most of my time in the bath reading thrillers.

It was lovely.

Oh, I wish I'd known that you were here.

So was Mark as it turned out, weren't you, Mark?

We could have got together.

But it's good to be back in a way, isn't it?

I mean, after a good holiday, of course.

Tell him I'm going to give him a ring.

I've got something for him at last.

You don't need to finish it.

You're going to publish your novel?

Yes.

Oh, how wonderful.

Oh, Mark, really? He'll be so thrilled.

He keeps refusing to phone you because he says it's like soliciting.

Hello, Derek. You had a good half?

I've seen you already, haven't I?

I'm sorry I've been off colour.

I don't know what was the matter with me.

Oh, Lord, what have you done to your chin?

You do get in the wars there, don't you, old man?

Was it shaving?

Derek, are you all right?

Yes, thanks.

Well, apart from finding out I won't be joining you as a full-time member of staff.

In fact, my hours are going to be cut by over a quarter,

which won't give me enough money to survive on.

Furthermore, I may not have any hours

at all next month, so I'll probably be leaving you then.

Leave?

Oh, no. That's rotten.

I'm very sorry. I blame myself.

I should have explained more fully.

But you were out of the room so quickly.

Look, we must have a word with Thomas, with Eddie.

I mean, we can't just let him be chucked out like this.

I mean, Henry, perhaps you would speak to them on our behalf.

Yes, Henry, you will, won't you?

Yes, yes, of course, of course.

I'll do my best.

But whatever happens, Dennis, it's no reflection on your teaching.

None at all.

No, I know it isn't.

And it's Derek, by the way, Henry.

That's life, isn't it?

That's the joke.

How hard I've worked.

Well, I'm in all Quatermain here.

Well, according to one of the Swedes I'm not allowed to mention,

because it's a fraction on the unethical side,

he sometimes sits for a whole hour not speaking.

Even in dictation classes.

And when he does condescend to speak, he goes off into little

stories about himself that he can't make head or tail of.

A Swede, did he say?

Oh, what does he look like?

Oh, what does it matter?

Everybody knows that for you, one Swede is like

another German, one Greek is like another Italian.

You can't tell them apart and you don't know what they're called.

Unlike me, you see, because

do you know what I do?

I memorize their names before their first class

and I study their faces during it

and I go home and I close my eyes and practice putting the two together

so that by the second class I know every one of my students personally.

And do you know what else I do?

I keep a lookout not only during term time

but also during my holidays, my unpaid holidays

for any item that might interest them for British life and institutions

and I actually make a note of them here in my notebook, which I keep in my pocket.

Especially together with any

out-of-the-way idioms and interesting new cities I might happen across.

And do you know what else I do?

Well, what does it matter what else I do?

Because that's what I mean by

joke or life or whatever it is.

Because I'm the one that's facing the bush and you're the one that's on permanent.

I don't begrudge you.

It's just that I reckon that I've earned it.

Look, I don't mean...

I mean the last thing I mean...

Hello, Melanie, my dear.

Hello, Melanie.

Hello, Melanie.

Have a good half.

Have a good half.

How's your mother?

Yes, how is she?

She's dead. She died last Tuesday.

Oh, Melanie.

I'm so sorry.

So sorry.

Was it another attack, my dear?

No, she fell down the stairs and broke her neck.

We still don't know quite how it happened.

It was after I'd gone to bed.

Nurse Grimes found her there in the morning.

I still hadn't got up the first time

and all I knew of it was Nurse Grimes calling me.

And...

And that's really all there is to tell.

I'd be grateful if we could dispense with condolences and that sort of thing.

What I really want most of all at the moment

is to get on in the usual fashion without any.

any fuss.

Hello, everybody.

Hello.

All rested up, I trust.

Welcome back, welcome back.

But first, is Melanie here?

Oh, Melanie, there you are, my dear.

There's a couple of policemen

in the office with Thomas who want a word with you.

They refuse to say what it's about, but not to worry, not to worry.

Because I asked them if it was illness or accident and they assured me it wasn't.

So that means that your mother's perfectly all

right, my dear, which is the main point, isn't it?

But it's probably some nonsense to do with your car.

So just run along to the office and flirt with them, will you?

And whatever you do, don't let Thomas lose his temper.

Thank you.

Really, our Cambridge Bob is always trying to make

such a solemn meal out of the most trivial business.

Oh, Nita, my dear, how blooming you look.

How blooming.

And how did Nigel enjoy New York?

Oh, fine. Thank you, Eddie, fine.

Good, good, good.

Well, tell Nigel we are looking forward to his first Anglo-American edition

and how sorry we are to have to cut back

to just one subscription.

But Semper Fidelis.

Ah, Henry,

what sort of half-term did you have?

Another of those adventurous caravan treks?

Where to this time?

Yes, Eddie, to Norfolk.

Ah, weather all right, I trust.

Oh, yes, Eddie, thanks. Lovely, yes.

Except when it rained.

And even then we had

one amazing moment at sunrise.

Oh, good, good. Especially for Fanny.

Little Fanny and Ben.

And Susan.

And how did Susan get on with her O-levels?

Results as expected?

Yes, Eddie, thanks, yes.

Lots of threes and fours and so forth.

Oh, I'm not surprised with you and Fanny behind her.

Give her our congratulations, too.

And Mark.

If it is Mark I see behind a further week's fuzzy-wuzzy.

Lots of tap-tap-tapping.

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, Eddie, I was just telling Henry here...

Yes, well, keep at it.

We all know that one day you'll...

Oh, and there's our Derek.

But we've already said our welcomes, haven't we, Derek, in the corridor.

I gather you've found Thomas.

Oh, yes, thanks, Eddie, yes.

And got whatever you wanted to get sorted out.

At least Thomas seemed to be very pleased with the fruits of your deliberations.

Oh, well, yes.

Well, everything's sorted out, yes, thanks, Eddie.

Good, good.

And St.

John, well, yes,

well, gather ye round,

gather ye round.

I'd like to take this opportunity of saying,

just between ourselves and a little behind Thomas's back,

so to speak,

I expect you've all noticed the distinct drop

in enrolment during the last few months.

This business of the Japanese suddenly deserting us has really hit us very hard.

Not with the recent renovation expenses.

Well, anyway,

Thomas is slightly more worried than perhaps he's allowed any of you to realize.

You all know how dedicated he is to the future

of the school and the future of the staff.

We've long thought of you as part of a family,

and I think you all know that we do our best to care for you in that spirit.

Absolutely.

I'm sure you're all wondering

how you can do your best to help us

during this rather rough patch.

And the answer is to go on giving of your very best

to your teaching and to show what students we've got

that while we may not be so grand as some schools in Cambridge,

we yield to no school in the country

in the thing that matters most,

our devotion to their devotion

to learning our language.

Yeah, yeah.

And that is how

we can best serve our school

at this time of slight crisis.

And this,

I may say,

is strictly entre nous

and without reference to Thomas.

Yes.

Well,

thank you, everybody, and bless you.

I believe the bell will ring in a minute or so.

Eddie, that was terrific.

St. John,

a word of warning.

There have been a number of complaints about your teaching.

Thomas, I regret to say,

had a round robin before half-term.

Oh, Lord.

That's Swede you mean?

Not Swede.

Ah, Melanie, my dear.

You've cleared it all up, have you?

And what was it all about?

Oh, yes, Eddie. All too preposterous.

Apparently,

a group of my French girls got hold of the wrong end of the stick.

They didn't realize that my recipe for roasting swan was for a medieval banquet.

They actually tried to kill one on the can.

Can you believe it?

Club one to death

from a punt with the intention of taking it back

to their rooms to cooking and eating it.

And then when they were reported,

the police blamed me.

I'm glad to say that the swan being a swan

survived and gave one of them a badly bruised arm.

Typically French.

Sinjin?

Are you all right?

Oh, Yes... Thanks, by the way.

What next class is it?

Heavens no. We finished for the day. For the week, in fact.

Good Lord, I didn't hear the bell.

It hasn't gone yet. Don't worry.

Eddie's having one of his very out-of-swords days, poor lamb.

And Thomas is in the office. We're safe.

Oh, yes.

I suppose I must have let them go early.

They're always restless on a Friday, aren't they?

And sat down.

Sinjin, what are you doing tonight?

Um...

Well, usual. Nothing very...

Then I'd like to introduce you to some very special friends of mine.

Would you like that?

Well, yeah.

Yes. Thank you, Melanie.

I'm sure you'll enjoy it.

We always end up with singing and dancing.

And the food is delicious.

And the people...

Well... You'll see for yourself.

Well, it sounds...

Sounds terrific.

Right.

You wait for me here, and I'll come and collect you when I'm ready.

Right.

Oh, darling.

What a bunch of Skypers we're all turning out to be, eh?

Well, I don't know.

There's only a few minutes off.

Daphne's coming down for the weekend. I don't want to miss her train.

All right, jolly good. Give her my love.

Right, Melanie, right.

You're the bloody near one in the corridor, I can tell you.

I was just sloping past the office.

Terrible din coming from it.

It sounded like a gang of Germans all bellowing

away and Thomas trying to calm them down.

But anyway, I just got past the door.

Eddie came round the corner.

He mumbled some nonsense about trying to find out something about a student.

But he didn't even see me. He went right past.

I mean, we were like that.

He didn't even see you, you say?

No.

Well, I hope he's all right.

Oh, by the way, Daphne and I have got an invitation for you.

To celebrate our engagement.

Now that I've got my permanency, we've decided to make it official.

Oh, congratulations.

Yes, we're getting married on the first day of the summer vac.

I've decided to ask Thomas and Eddie to be best man.

Well, let them decide which. I don't want to upset one by choosing the other.

Terrific.

And then off on your honeymoon, eh?

Yes.

We've settled for a holiday camp. Not very exciting, I know.

But there may be a way to pick up a little money.

As well as have a holiday ourselves.

Daphne is very keen to start saving for a house.

Very practical head on those little shoulders of hers.

There's a chance she may even come and do a bit of teaching here.

To replace me as the part-time, you see.

I've already dropped a little hint to Thomas.

I think he was a bit worried by her speech impediment.

But I pointed out that in some respects, that could be an asset.

Absolutely.

And she'd be a great asset here.

In the staff room, I mean.

Oh, she's a wonderful girl, dearie.

Yes, I think you'll like her even more when you meet her.

Because, frankly, she's...

Well, I don't know whether you've noticed, but since she came back into my life,

I've stopped having all those ridiculous accidents.

They were the bane of my life, even though I was always trying to make light of them.

I suppose it's something to do with...

needing the right person.

Love, let's face it.

Love.

So, um...

See you at seven for supper.

It'll be nothing special.

Dearie, I'm very...

I'm very honoured.

Actually, you'd better make it 6.

30, as it'll be more on the lines of a high tea.

And if you could bring a couple of bottles of wine.

My dear chap, I'll bring champagne.

Oh.

Oh, Lord, I'd forgotten.

Oh, no.

I've already accepted an invitation this evening.

Oh, what, two?

Why, I can't quite make out.

I was in a bit of a haze when Melanie asked me that.

But she said something about friends,

and singing and dancing.

Had you accepted?

Oh, yes, I did.

But what they sing is hymns.

It's one of those evenings.

The dancing is up and down and round about.

And then that Nurse Grimes declares for Jesus.

And then the rest of them follow suit,

and they all stand around waiting for you to do it.

Oh, Lord.

At least that's how it was the night she got me along.

She's trying to convert you.

Oh, Lord.

I told you all about it.

Well, yes, I know, you did, of course.

But I'd forgotten.

I mean, she didn't mention Jesus.

Well, she won't let you get out of it now.

No.

I'll get you and Daphne together very soon.

Don't worry.

Oh, here, Mark.

Here's what St. John's got himself into.

One of Melanie's evenings.

Oh, Christ, you haven't, have you, St. John?

You are a chump.

I mean, you must have heard her going on about Nurse Grimes

and her dark night at the soul after her mother died.

Don't you take anything in?

Well, yes, I did.

But you didn't know how to say no,

which, if I may say, is both your charm and your major weakness.

Well, you never know.

You never know. It may be quite interesting.

And one has to...

One has to have a go at anything, really.

And I wasn't doing anything else this evening.

This evening?

You bloody well are doing something else this evening.

You're going out to dinner.

What?

Where?

Well, at my place.

Oh, Christ, don't say I forgot to invite you.

Oh, well, you're invited, so there you are.

Saved from salvation.

All you have to do is tell Melanie that you'd forgotten, okay?

Oh, but this is terrible.

What?

You mean that I'd be having dinner with you?

You are having dinner with us.

It's obligatory.

Besides, I've told Camelia, and she's expecting you.

We all are.

So is Tom.

I promised him he could stay up an extra half hour.

Especially to see you again.

But what about Melanie?

I promised her.

Oh, to hell with Melanie.

It's all a load of pathetic nonsense.

And probably blasphemous, too, if one believed in God.

Look, speaking as your best and closest and dearest, etc., etc.

, it is crucial that you come tonight.

Of the greatest importance to me.

You see.

Okay?

Hmm?

Look, I've got to dash.

I'm picking Tom up from school.

Make sure he turns up tonight.

He's got himself into one of these usual messes.

See you both at eight.

Oh, don't say that you and Nigel are going to be there, too.

Oh, dear.

Why can't you come?

Well, I fell into one of those dozes again.

You know how they keep coming over me suddenly for a minute or two.

And then when I came out of it, well, there I was, right in the middle of this...

this Melanie business.

Poor St. John.

But I mean, I can't just sit here.

You know, I was just a little too busy for you to turn around to announce.

I'm so sorry, Melanie, but something much more amusing has turned up.

She was so...

Well, it was her eyes.

I can't explain.

Oh, if only Mark hadn't forgotten.

Now, I suppose, you see, he knows I'm usually free in thought.

Maggie, what do I do, Anita?

What do I do?

Oh, do come if you can.

It's meant to be a reconciliation dinner, and you know how they usually turn out.

So you'd be a great help as the panel.

A perfect outsider.

Well, you know that I'd do anything, anything

to make sure that old Mark and his camellia stay together.

Oh, it's not them that need reconciling. They already are. It's Mark and Nigel.

Mark and Nigel? But they're such good friends. What happened?

Oh, it was all a couple of months ago.

They had the most appalling row because Nigel turned

down an extract from Mark's novel. Well, about seven extracts, actually.

Oh, no. Oh, poor Mark.

Then, of course, Nigel made everything worse

by deciding to be completely honest for once.

I suppose he thought Mark, being an old friend,

had it coming to him. He said that everything

that Mark had sent him was imitative and laboured.

And anyway, who cared anymore about the mysteries

of sex, the wonders of childbirth, the delicacies

of human relationships? It had all been done

and done and done to death. There were far bigger issues.

Oh, I bet.

Then, of course, when the magazine folded and Nigel...

When Nigel was going through his rough patch,

the printers threatening to sue and various

other things, Mark wrote him a gloating letter and added a P.

S. about the old Amanda Southgate affair, claiming to be indignant on my account.

I must say, I rather wish he'd resisted that.

Still, still, he has asked Nigel to dinner.

Well, that was probably camellia.

She never took literature seriously. I loathe the thought of it.

We haven't been able to find a babysitter, so

we'll have to bring Ophelia in her carrycot.

She's still got six weeks colic after four months.

So it would be nice if you came, St. John.

You'd make the whole thing more bearable.

Oh, I'd love to.

And to see Ophelia.

I've only seen her once. It was in the hospital.

Oh, what hair she had.

Oh, Anita.

What is it?

I hate to see you unhappy.

More than anyone else.

Oh, Lord.

I'm all right, St. John. Honestly, it's just that...

Oh, the way things go, I mean.

Oh, don't go.

Nothing seems to come out right.

All the years I adored him and he couldn't bear me.

And now he adores me and I can't bear him.

You see?

What a nice man you are.

I'm sorry.

I'm just tired, I expect. I'm just tired.

Hello, Henry.

Hello.

You've finished late, you are.

Yes.

Yes, I...

I've gone into a bit of a tangle with my...

intermediary of British life and institutions.

Usually it's perfectly clear to me, but this time it all...

all came out rather oddly.

What I must have done is I had the whole lot of them dismissing it with contempt.

Four or five from the Asian bloc.

All the fascist countries.

The French were the loudest, as usual.

But even that nice Japanese, I mean, he's normally such a polite, reticent man.

And I don't quite see how it happened or what I said,

but it was rather hard being lectured at on political decencies and shouted at.

Still...

I suppose it's better they should all join up

for a wrangle with me than with each other.

Though to tell you the truth, I did find it rather hard to keep my temper.

I think I managed it.

As a result, I've got a slight headache.

After all, I was only explaining our constitution, not boasting about it.

And I've got my own distinct reservations.

I mean, no system's perfect.

As I kept having to say to Santos.

You know, as far as a Bolivian cabinet minister.

It's awful when they get like that, isn't it?

I always make them explain our politics to me and

then just correct their English, whatever they say.

One of the advantages of being female, I suppose.

Yes.

Well, good night, Henry. See you on Monday.

Night, Anita, my dear. My best to Nigel and little Ophelia.

And St. John, see you later, I hope.

Do come if you can.

Yes, well, right.

Yes, well, if I can.

I say, Henry.

Look, I wonder if you would give me some advice.

Hm?

I'm... I'm in a bit of a pickle, you see.

Oh, St. John, there's no any chance you could come over tonight.

What?

I'm sorry it's such short notice.

It wouldn't have been if I'd remembered.

But the thing is, Fanny's very down in the dumps, you see.

Very down.

She really does need a break.

Well, so do I. Come to that.

It's Susan, you see.

She's taken a turn for the worse.

I'm so sorry.

Oh, it's probably just withdrawal from all the

tranquillizing drugs they put her on in hospital.

And then her friends will keep coming over in the evenings

and talking about their plans and their blasted A-levels.

And, of course, there's no possibility that Susan...

At least not for a few years, anyway.

You see, last night we heard a shrieking laughter at something on the television.

A good sign, Fanny and I thought.

The first time she's laughed since her breakdown.

So we went into the living room and laughed with her.

Until we realized that what we were laughing at was a

news flash to do with some particularly hideous atrocity.

And...

And what followed was a bit of a nightmare.

It ended with the doctor having to sedate her.

Almost forcibly, I'm afraid.

So I noticed that La Règle du Jeu was on at the Arts.

One of our favourite films.

So decent and humane.

And then a quiet dinner afterwards at the French place.

Just the two of us.

If you can manage it.

You're the only person Susan will allow to babysit, you see.

She seems to feel some reassurance from you.

And, of course, little Fanny and Benjamin love it, too, when you come.

Well, I'd love to, Henry.

I'd love to, but...

Could it be tomorrow?

No, Saturday's no good, I'm afraid.

We have our family therapy session in the afternoon,

and we're all so exhausted afterwards.

Oh, demoralized, really.

I'm still to be convinced they serve any useful.

Though, of course, one mustn't prejudge.

Well, Sunday, then?

Ah.

Unfortunately, Fanny's mother's coming over on Sunday.

Rather against our inclinations, as she tends to be rather insensitive with Susan.

Advises her to pull her socks up, that sort of thing.

Yeah.

You can't manage this evening, then?

Well, you see, the problem is...

Henry, the problem is...

Well, there we are.

Sinton's already been so long.

Hello, Henry. I didn't know you were still here.

Hello, Melanie.

Oh, I've been meaning to say all day how much I like that dress.

Thanks.

I'm taking Sinton to one of my evenings.

Oh.

Oh, I see.

Well, I'm sorry Fanny and I have been unable to come so far.

Oh, I know how difficult things are for you at the moment.

As long as you both realise that any time you want to come along...

I was thinking that perhaps Susan might... Yes, yes. Thank you, Melanie.

Are you all right? You look a little fraught.

No, just tired.

Friday evening-ish, that's all.

And a bit of a headache.

Me too.

Hey, Henry.

Oh, where?

Well, in my head.

Yes, but which part?

Well, it seems to be just here.

Ah, well, that's a tension headache.

Nurse Grimes showed me a marvellous way of dealing with that.

Let me have a go at it.

What?

Put your head back. Right back.

Yeah.

Now.

There.

Oh, so that's how they do it.

Well, it looks jolly relaxing, Henry.

No!

Oh, sorry. Sorry, Melanie. I don't quite know what I've heard.

I expect I heard you press the wrong nerve.

I still haven't quite got the trick of it. My clumsy...

Well, actually, it does feel a little better. Thank you.

We'd better be on our way, St. John. It's quite about to drive.

Good night, Henry. Rest yourself during the weekend, won't you?

Yes, yes. Same to you, my dear. Have a good night, St. John. See you Monday.

Night, Henry, old man. See you Monday. And if it turns out

that it's Saturday or Sunday, well, I know that I'll be free.

Off you go, St. John.

Right-o.

Oh, St. John, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.

It's a week, St. John. I haven't quite...

Oh, no.

Oh, hello, Eddie. I didn't know you were around today.

Well, there was a frightful she-muzzle in the office, so Thomas

asked me to come down. Is young St. John around anywhere?

No, he and Melanie have just left, I'm afraid.

Well, I could have quite liked a word with our

St. John. He's caused us quite an afternoon.

Apparently, he missed his last class entirely.

His students waited doggily through the

whole hour for him to turn up, and then went off

to the office and berated poor Thomas.

Like the Germans. You know what they're like when they

think they're not getting their money's worth of syllabus.

Oh, dear.

Though I doubt it, they'd get much more sensible

English from St. John present than from St. John absent.

As far as I know, that Swiss Ferdinand Muller

was the only one who felt he got value for money.

Thank goodness he stopped sending those dreadful

postcards at last. They made Thomas quite upset.

But I wonder what it was that he enjoyed so much about St. John's classes.

Well, perhaps the lack of...

Well, I don't know what we're going to do about him in the end.

I mean, if we were to turn him out, where would he go? Who else would have him?

One must look after one's own, I suppose, when it comes to it.

I agree with Thomas on that.

After all, school is our family.

The only family that Thomas and I have got between us.

So one has their own responsibility to them.

And responsibility to the students, too.

It's so difficult to get the balance right. So difficult.

St. John forgetting to teach them. And now Melanie

is starting up her missionary work among them.

Thomas is going to have a word with her, too.

But the Catholic countries won't stand it. And why should they?

And now our Meadle. Taking to slipping away

before the bell now that he's got his permanency.

And trying to bluff his way past me in the hall as if I couldn't see him.

Well, at least Mark's pulling his weight now that he's got his camellia back.

I never did for a moment see a writer in that lad, did you?

And Anita? Really, I don't know how these young modern couples cope.

But I gather that Nigel's taken to fatherhood quite wonderfully.

Yes, Thomas and I saw them, three of them, on the backs the other day.

And what a pretty sight it was, too. So, so... good, good.

Yes, the problems of a flourishing school, eh?

Yes, indeed, Eddie.

Well, I'd best get on back up to bed or Thomas will have a fit.

Goodbye, Henry.

See you on Monday.

Yes.

Bless you, bless you.

Yes, yes. See you Monday, Eddie.

Oh, by the way, I haven't asked for a while. How is Susan?

Oh, responding, I think.

Slowly.

Good, good.

Slowly responding.

Funny.

It's always a Christmas somehow, isn't it?

Yes.

Oh, Henry, I'm so sorry. I didn't...

No, no, you're right. I was thinking much the same thing.

Although, of course, in Susan's case, I don't think the season was relevant.

At least, not to her. The blinds were always done, you see.

Because any brightness hurt her mind. Natural brightness, that is.

She could tolerate artificial light. Until the last... last bit.

Look, I'm going to have to go soon, I'm afraid.

I promised the au pair she could have a night off.

And Nigel's probably not coming back from London until tomorrow.

Yes, I've got to get back pretty soon. Daphne's not feeling too grand.

What with the morning sickness and all the redecorating.

Of course, of course. There's really no need for all of us when it comes to it.

It's just that as soon as I heard, I thought you would want to.

But without perhaps enough consideration, it was a bad idea, perhaps.

Oh, I say no, Henry. Well, I'm jolly glad you've got in touch with me.

Though, of course, I wasn't doing anything in particular.

I must say, St. John, you do look as though you

might have been about to be up to something.

What? No. Oh, no. No. No, not really.

It was just, um... Well, it was just...

I saw the lights on, so I guessed that some of you, one or two perhaps, would come.

But I didn't expect all of you, not at this time of

year, with all your families and responsibilities.

Thomas would have been so touched. So touched.

My thanks on his behalf. My thanks.

He died an hour ago.

Of course, they did everything they could right up to the end.

But as we've all known for some time, there was nothing to be done.

You know how much you all meant to him.

He talked of every one of you. Every evening, until...

And I also expect you want to know what its future

is to be, this school that he loved so much.

I know his wishes. We discussed them quite openly,

once we both knew that he was bound to leave us.

And I've also spoken to Henry.

I don't suppose it'll be any surprise to you to know that I asked

Henry some time ago to take over the school as sole principal.

I have no desire to take an active part in it, now that Thomas is no longer here.

I loved it for his sake, you see.

I make no secret of that.

Not this evening.

Not this evening.

I shall be leaving the flat as soon as possible.

It's got too many memories.

And settled somewhere by the sea.

As we'd always planned to do.

I hope some of you will come and see me.

Bless you.

Bless you.

Well, I really don't wish to speak at such a moment about plans or changes.

We'll have a meeting to go into those at the beginning of term.

But I should just say that I've already talked to Mark

about his following me as academic tutor,

and I'm happy to say that he's accepted.

Thank you.

Thank you, indeed.

So, until next term, which has a very reasonable enrolment,

I am glad to report.

Let me just assure you that I shall do my best, as I know you will,

to maintain our position as a flourishing school.

And I know Thomas and Eddie wouldn't want me to let you part

without wishing you all a very happy Christmas.

So, see you all next term.

Happy Christmas.

Happy Christmas.

Yes, yes, yes.

And to you.

Well, Henry, I say, you and Mark.

Well, that's quite a team, you know.

Thank you, St. John.

Well, good night, Henry.

We must talk, eh?

And St. John over Christmas.

You must pop round.

Mmm, I'd love that.

Thanks, Mark.

See you then.

Love to Camellia and Tom and little Mark, too.

Sorry if I wasn't led to you earlier, Henry.

Put it down to my current condition and Yugoslav au pairs.

You get home to your Ophelia, my dear, and make Nigel look after you.

Oh, I will, Henry.

See you over Christmas, St. John, I hope.

Oh, Lord, yes, lovely, lovely.

Night, Anita.

And love to little Ophelia.

Nigel, too.

Sorry Daphne couldn't make it, Henry.

But she's very much looking forward to her courses next term.

And I'm looking forward to having her join us.

Good night, dear.

Pop round when you're feeling the mood, St. John.

Lots of paintbrushes for you two wheels.

Ruby, I love the smell of paint.

Love to Daphne.

Night, Henry.

Night.

Good night, Melanie, my dear.

And perhaps we can all get together after Christmas.

Fanny was saying how much she'd like to see you after all this time.

Love to.

Love to.

And St. John, if you're free, pop round for a drink.

Oh, yes, please, Melanie.

I'd like that.

Well, St. John.

And where were you off to tonight, by the way?

What?

Oh, Lord, no way, Henry.

No, no, there was a suitcase, you see, that I still haven't unpacked.

It's been down in Mrs. Harris's cellar all these years.

And suddenly she wanted the space, so she made me take it upstairs.

And of course I opened it up, and there was this.

So I decided to try it on.

See if it still fit.

Then you phoned, so I came straight on over here, quite forgetting that I hanged on.

Oh, no.

It stinks of mothballs, I'm afraid.

It's not a bad fit, eh?

No.

No, it's not a bad fit.

It might come in useful sometime.

But I say, poor old Eddie.

What?

Oh, poor old Eddie.

One deed terrific.

Yes, indeed.

Shh.

Shh.

St. John.

St. John, I've been worrying about this for, oh, ever

since I realized I was to take over from Eddie and Thomas.

If I'm to be principal, I have to run the school in my own way, you see.

Oh, I know that, Henry.

We all do.

And I don't see, you see, however fond of you I happen to be, we

all happen to be, that there's any room for you anymore, you see.

I thought it only fair to tell you at the first, the very first possible opportunity.

So that you can, well, look around.

No, no.

No, that's right.

Thank you, Henry.

Oh, Lord, I...

I know that I haven't got much to offer.

I never had, I suppose.

Well, recently it's gone even worse.

No, it's a wonder.

It's really a wonder that people have put up with me for so long.

Eh?

If I could see any way, I... No, no.

I mean, it's no good being all right in the staff

room if you're not any good in the classroom.

Is it?

They're different things.

I can't tell you how much I'll miss you.

We all will.

Ah.

I'll miss it.

And all of you.

Yes, I know.

Well, would you like a quick drink or come back and see Fanny?

Oh, no, no, thanks, Henry, no.

No, I'll just stay here for a while, if I may, and...

you know, get myself used to, um...

And then I'll go any minute.

Well, good night, St. John.

Good night, Henry. See you na...

Thanks.

I say...