All language subtitles for LOVE_IN_A_COLD_CLIMATE_6_engx

Cedric Hampton is coming
to stay.

I must put the word round
the undergraduates

not to drop in
for the next few days.

Why? He sounds
absolute heaven.

Not the sort of thing
the comrades would approve of,

but pure bliss all the same.

I'm sure the undergraduates
would adore him.

Just what I'm afraid of.

Alfred would be furious.

Oh, dear, you do make him
sound gloomy.

Just moral.

It's the same with Christian,

gloomy or moral, whichever you
care to call it.

He was full of disapproval about
my lovely new present

from Lord Merlin, which is

what I've come to tell
you about.

Yes, he said he was going to
call in on you.

And so he did.

And you'll never guess,
so don't even try.

He's given me the sweetest
little house in Cheyne Walk.

Almost a doll's house, it is.

Full of sunshine and reflections
from the river.

Oh, Fanny, darling, do admit.

Oh, darling, I'm so pleased.

Somewhere of yours!

He said not to thank him,

he was only doing it to annoy
the Kroesigs,

in which he certainly succeeded.

Trouble is, he also
annoyed Christian.

Oh, don't tell me
Christian's jealous.

No, but he does not approve
of private property.

He's got a flat.

A flat's all right because

it's what all the workers
in Russia have.

The point is, he says that while
I've got his flat to live in,

I should not be permitted
to own a house.

So with great difficulty,
I've persuaded him

that we should give up the flat
and move into the house instead.

I think he really wanted to give
it to the comrades

as a kind of doss down.

[Telephone rings]

Excuse me.

Oh, Fanny, darling, there's been

the most dreadful
telephone call from Sonia.

It seems they've caught her
stealing the nurse's breakfast.

You said she'd cheat.

Now, don't be heartless, Fanny.

Do imagine... no dinner
than half a gill of turnip juice

at midnight, and then, my dear,

woken up by the smell
of kippers.

So, naturally, the poor darling
sneaked out and pinched one.

And they caught her with it
under her nightie.

Greedy old monster,
it serves her right.

Now, don't be vindictive, dear.

What happened?

Oh, now that's
the really awful part.

It seems they've given
her the sack

and one has to go immediately
and collect her.

I mean, after only five days,
the disgrace of it!

But, Cedric,
you are coming to stay?

Oh, Fanny darling,

the wretchedness of it,
I can't.

Oh, Cedric, I was so looking
forward to it.

All the gossip.

I know, but I've simply got
to send her somewhere

to get rid of all those
kilos and kilos.

I mean, I've got to get
her up to scratch...

or rather down to scratch...

for this Venetian ball
we're giving.

This what you're giving?

Venetian ball, darling.

Sonia and I are going to utterly
transform the hall

of her London house into a scene
from olden Venice.

And one will be arranging
tableau vivant and so on,

so you see, I must get her legs
at least down to size.

Yes, I do see the problem.

I had rather thought of
Baden Baden,

though all those Germans

goose-stepping all over
the place

might just over-excite one.

Anyway, I must be off absolutely
at once

to pick up errant Auntie.

Goodbye, Cedric.

I hope they haven't
locked her up.

Ha ha ha! Bye.

Thank you, darling.

There isn't going to be any
wedding breakfast

because Christian has something
on with the comrades.

But you will come and see us
soon in Cheyne Walk?

Are you going anywhere at all?

Oh, dear, no.

It's very kind of Christian
to marry me at all.

I can't expect anymore
bourgeois concessions.

I just thought that you...

that both of you... might enjoy

a little fun.

Fun, Fanny darling?

What ever are you thinking of

when Christian and the comrades
have so much to worry them?

["Funiculi, Funicula" plays]

Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett.

[Laughter]

Oh, dear, oh, dear!

Poor old Veronica.

She must reduce her intake
of Benzina.

She's positively flooded
her carburetor.

[Laughter]

[Gasps]

CEDRIC: Davey!

I'll guess what you are
if you'll guess what I am.

Right.

You first.

The Black Death, darling.

All those worms and skulls
and hourglasses.

Now, what am I?

A superior tart.

[Laughter]

No, that's Veronica...

if we can ever get her dry,
outside or in.

Oh, I give up.

I am the Adriatic Sea, dear,

and soon, the doge will come
to marry me

ceremoniously on behalf
of Venice.

Oh!

Lucky old doge.

Yes, isn't he?

That it's only ceremonious.

[Laughter]

[Tenor singing "O Sole Mio"]

You see, darling, Aunt Sonia,

a total success.

All those dreary royalties
you wanted to ask

would have ruined it.

Well, I do see that you're
right, Cedric.

But I did just wish
we could have asked

the Infanta de la Rosa.

Poor little thing.

Poor little nothing.

The woman is a walking penance.

Oh!

No, royalties are only
all right in Paris,

because there they'd be
put in their place.

[Both laugh]

Isn't it so...

Oh, it's so beautiful!

FANNY: Polly's baby was born
a few days later.

It took one look at its father,
according to Uncle Matthew,

and quickly died.

When I went to see Polly,

she simply did not seem to have
noticed either its arrival

or its departure.

Polly, I am so sorry.

Sit down, darling.

What do you think of
the camellias?

Geoffrey Paddington sent them.

I thought you said
he was so poor.

For a duke.

His father spent rather a lot
on chorus ladies, you see.

But, of course, dukes have
such lovely credit.

Weeks since I've seen you,
Fanny.

I know, I'm sorry.

- Lady Polly?
- Yes?

Your mother, Lady Montdore,
has just arrived...

with a sort of friend.

Cedric.

Oh, has my husband seen her?

Yes, he's with her now.

Are they tearing
each other's eyes out?

I beg your pardon, Lady Polly?

Do they seem all right, Sister?

Oh, yes, indeed.

Mr. Dougdale sent word
to say, will you see her?

But, of course, if you don't
want to see her, Lady Polly,

I can quite truthfully
send word

to say that you may not have
another visitor today.

I'll go.

No, no, no, Fanny, darling.
You mustn't.

I'm not sure I will see here,

but I couldn't possibly
be left alone with her.

[Laughter]

Oh, do go to the window, Fanny.

Is it them?

FANNY: Yes, it is.
And Cedric's with them.

WOMAN: Here it is!

FANNY: They're all three walking
through the graveyard together.

And they're looking at
Lady Patricia's grave.

Oh, but I must see Cedric.
Sister, do be a darling.

Go down and tell them
all to come up.

Now, Lady Polly, no,
we mustn't overdo it.

You know what Dr. Simpson said.

Close friends
and relations only...

no strangers.

Cedric Hampton's a cousin.

Yes, 10 times removed
and totally unknown to you.

I suppose we must allow
your mother up

if you really want to see her,

but certainly not
a strange young man.

And strange in more ways
than one, if you ask me.

I suppose I'd better see mummy

or else this silly feud
will go on forever.

Besides, I really can't wait to
see all the new things

Cedric's done for her.

Not quite a new figure.

The old model is still
apparent there.

Anyway, she seems to be
in a very friendly mood,

laughing and chatting.

Very smart

in navy blue with a sailor hat.

Oh, I'd die for the sailor hat.

I'd die still more for Cedric.

Boy's being wonderful.

I thought he'd be
knocked groggy

by your mother's appearance,

but he's pretending not
to notice.

He's looking at Cedric
all the time.

They're getting on like mad.

All this round
poor Patricia's grave?

No, they're moving off towards
the garden now.

Well, here comes Sister floating
down toward you mother.

She's detaching her
from the rest

and bringing her back
across the lawn.

Your mother looks so happy,
I feel almost sentimental.

You can see how she must
have been missing you

all this time
at the bottom of her heart.

Oh, nonsense.

I shall be in the way; let me
escape while there's still time.

On no account whatever.
I can't face her alone.

Oh, keep up
the running commentary.

Well, Boy's admiring
Cedric's suit,

a sort of coarse blue tweed.

Very pretty and piped
with scarlet.

And now they're
wondering off together.

Oh, you've moved the dressing
table, dear!

Much better like that.

More light.

Poor Patricia never
had much of an eye

for that kind of thing.

Oh, Camellias!

Can I have one for
Cedric's buttonhole?

Oh, Paddington sent them,
did he?

Poor Geoffrey.

I fear he's a bit peculiar.

His mother, Louella Paddington,
was perfectly lovely, you know.

People used to stand on chairs.

So...

the poor little baby died.

I expect it was just as well.

Children are such
an expense nowadays.

What a pity you
couldn't have come

to the Venetian Ball, Fanny.

They all said there hadn't been
such a party

since the days of
Robert de Montesquiou,

and I can well believe it.

It cost ?4,000, you know.

The water for the gondolas
was so heavy, for one thing.

Well, it shows those foreigners
England isn't done for yet.

I wore all my diamonds!

And I gave Cedric a revolving
diamond star...

goes by clockwork...

and he wore it on his shoulder.

Next time I come over,
I'll bring the photographs.

Mummy, I must know,
what did you wear?

Oh, Longhi.

Not a very comprehensive
description.

A costume somewhat in the style
of a Longhi painting.

Cedric chose it.

One of those gambling ladies
in the Ridotto?

Oh, certainly not.

I've always regarded gaming
as highly wasteful.

Immoral, too.

I was a nobleman's attendant
or a squire...

with tights!

Oh, Mummy!

Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett
was very good

as a prostitute.

They were called something
different in those days.

Some word like "marzipan."

Davey Warbeck was tremendous.

He came as the Black Death.

Such a terrible pity
you gals couldn't have come.

Oh, poor Patricia.

Well, never mind.

That's all over now.

Such an excellent view of her
grave from here.

Oh, there's Cedric and Boy.

I'm glad they're getting
on so well.

Boy was telling us about
his book...

"Three Dukes," he says
he's going to call it.

And Cedric is very much
interested

because, of course,
the Sicilian one, Picchio,

is a friend of his.

And the Duke de Sauveterre's
cousin

owns the house at Chevre

which Cedric used
to take every summer.

So, of course,
Cedric can tell Boy

a great many things he never
knew about them.

So fascinating for them both.

What is the matter with you,
Fanny, dear,

all that jerking about?

I'm so sorry.

It's my taxi arriving.

I'm just waving to the driver.

He's so sensitive, he gets hurt
if I keep him waiting.

Such a terrible bore,
but Alfred won't let me

drive myself
till after the baby.

Give Cedric this for me.

Oh, please tell Boy to organize
some tea up here for mummy,

and say I've got some errands
for him in the village.

Polly says you're to order tea
for Lady Montdore,

and then go upstairs and hear
what she wants doing.

Oh!

Well, we'll be
in touch then?

Tomorrow.

I have a great deal more
to tell you about Picchio.

Well, it's the ancestor
I'm really writing about,

not our Picchio.

My dear, when you get
to the bottom of it all,

you won't be able
to tell them apart.

[Laughs]

Oh, well...

A demain, then.

Un petit coup de telephone.

About 11:00?

11:00.

Aunt Sonia sends you

this buttonhole.

Polly burns to see you,

but that odious sister
wouldn't allow it.

Oh, well.

I've had a very nice time
down here.

He loves me,

he loves me not.

Cedric, do be careful.

And what about
the furniture polisher?

Utilitarian rather
than romantic.

- Yes, I...
- Don't interrupt me.

He loves me,

he loves me not.

He loves me,

he loves me not.

Oh, heaven, heaven, heaven!

He loves me!

I may as well tell you,
my darling,

that the second big thing
in my life

has begun.

Oh, Cedric!

And how are you going to explain
to Lady Montdore

about the buttonhole?

Mmm.

Ah, the Black Death.

Lady Montdore said you were
very convincing.

Not as convincing as
Veronica Chaddesley-Corbett

playing the courtesan.

Davey's life has been one long
round of pleasure, lately.

Parties, picnics, balls, balls,
picnics, parties,

cruises... even trips
to Hollywood.

That was duty.

I'll tell you what
I found in Hollywood.

Thank you.

No one's been near me in weeks,

and I've hardly left
the house.

Poor Basil's
had whooping cough.

[Stammers]

You're sure it's no longer
infectious.

Oh, yes, yes, Davey.
What did you find in Hollywood?

I mean I couldn't bear
to have escaped

all the perils of the West where
the pox came from, you know,

simply to come home and catch
whooping cough from Basil.

Hollywood, Davey.

- Well...
- Tell.

I arrived just in time
for Jassy's wedding.

The whole place was full of it.

Shock engagement to Carry Goon.

Not Gary Coon?

I'm still not sure which
actually.

But everyone was wild...
I think that's the word...

by the sudden engagement
of this absurd film star...

a little man, like a nut...

to the English
aristocratic rose.

A wedding next morning,
the paper said,

so I made my presence known
to Jassy,

and she asked me
to give her away.

Will they be happy?

I don't know.

I got the impression she'd
worked quite hard

talking him into the church...

or rather the wedding parlor.

So she made the running?

That probably helped her
with Boy.

Or Linda with Christian Talbot
if you think about it.

The Radletts are quite as
determined as Polly

to get the men they want.

Or the women.

They say Matt proposed to Sadie
the first time they met.

Oh, that must have been impulse
rather than determination.

Like what sent little Matt
off to Spain?

There's still no news of him,
I'm afraid.

Mmm.

[Bell tolling]

"Oh, come you home
of Sunday

when Ludlow streets are still

and Ludlow bells are ringing

o'er vale and field and hill.

Or come you home
of Monday

when Ludlow market hums

and Ludlow chimes are playing

'The conquering hero comes.'

Come you home a hero,

or come not home

at all."

I'm sorry.

I'm afraid I get rather
sentimental about soldiers.

Silly,
since I was one myself.

Oh, there needs no apology,
Davey.

No, perhaps not.

You know,

to run off to the wars,

and, actually, to get there,

which we must now assume he has,

takes more than mere impulse.

It's guts...

what his father's got,

what all the Radletts have got.

Funnily enough,
come to think of it,

what Sadie Montdore has got.

And certainly Cedric

to put up with her at close
quarters all the time.

Cedric is showing signs of being
unfaithful.

Hmm?

He's confessed to me that
he's taken a fancy to Boy.

Don't tell me.

He's going to desert the old
woman for Boy as Polly did.

And Boy did for Polly.

Just about slay her.

If I know my Cedric,

he'll think of something
cleverer than that.

Hampton and the title
he must have

when Lord Montdore dies,

but not necessarily the money
or the moveables,

as we well know.

And Cedric is hardly one to
throw away a fortune...

and for Boy Dougdale
of all people.

Polly did.

And most of these are from

the famous Gollancz
Left Book Club.

Isn't there going to be one by
George Orwell about Spain?

There was going to be,
darling,

only Victor Gollancz
didn't quite like

what Orwell had to say about
some of the comrades.

Less than flattering, it seems,
about the way they carried on.

Doesn't Gollancz believe Orwell?

I don't think, darling, that's
quite the point at issue.

Well, I'm glad you've got
as far as realizing that.

Oh.

You know, Linda,
I'm rather surprised

at you having anything
to do with this.

Oh, please don't be cross.

I'm only helping out.

It's really run by
a comrade called Boris.

He's a terrific Hon,

only he does like to get drunk
from Thursday afternoon,

Thursday's early closing
until Monday morning.

So I'm sort of standing
in every week

until he's sober.

Of course, the money will
be handy.

But I'd sooner be
at home really.

I'm sure the Comrades
are making

a terrible mess
at Cheyne Walk.

And what's Christian doing
in the middle of all this?

Just at the moment, he's writing
a book on famine.

Goodness, it's sad.

And there's this dear little
Chinese comrade

who comes and tells him what
famine is like.

You never saw such
a fat little man in your life.

[Laughter]

I may seem to laugh
at the comrades,

but at least one does know they
are doing good

and not harm...
not living on

other people's slavery like
Sir Leicester Kroesig.

And they're all tremendous Hons,
and I love them like anything.

Even if I do wish they were
a little more fond of chatting

and less sad and earnest and
down on everybody else.

And, of course, being
a conservative

is far more restful
and agreeable.

But one must remember that
it is bad and not good.

Hmm.

Linda, dear...

you do realize that Fanny and I
have been here

for nearly half an hour,

and you've not had
a single customer.

Oh, dear.

Haven't I?

Now, let us grant,
for the sake of argument,

that capitalism is bad.

Even so, surely the comrades
still want to make

a profit from this shop in order
to promote the good.

Well, I think what they want to
do really is

to convert people.

But, well, yes, Christian says
some money

would be so useful to help

the comrades in Spain
and places.

Yes, well, I've no wish to help
the comrades in Spain

or anywhere else.

But out of love for you,
dear Linda,

I'm going to offer you and Boris
a little hint.

[Clicking tongue]

Oh!

Goody, goody!

How very kind of Boy.

I do hope he remembers one,

but, of course, one isn't
a lifelong friend

like you, Aunt Sonia.

"Darling Sonia with best love
from Boy and Polly."

Oh, the darlings.

How very sweet and tactful.

Now the thing is, Aunt Sonia,
darling,

what Polly and Boy need
is a lovely, lovely treat.

I've forgiven them both,
more or less,

but it's early days
to talk of treats.

Now, don't be mean, darling.

After all that horror about
the poor baby dying,

and her being so ill

and Boy in such torture
about all that,

and getting the book out,

surely, you don't grudge them
a little pleasure.

Not if they can pay for it.

That is not being kind,
Aunt Sonia.

And if you go on like this,

I shall have to send you
back to that place again.

Oh, Cedric, please not!
Oh, please!

Only if you are unkind.

Or too greedy.

Because it is being
unkind to one,

after all one's trouble
with you.

Now...

a treat for Polly and Boy.

Let me see.

Ah.

I have it.

A trip to the chateau
of the Loire.

Madly appropriate for Boy,

and then on to the Pyrenees
and Riviera for pure pleasure.

Oh, do say yes, Aunt Sonia,

and we can ring them
straightaway and ask them.

If I say yes,

can I have another chocky?

MAN: And now for rather
an amusing tease.

There.

You can always say it's
an attack on the aristocracy.

It's so boring, it's enough
to put anyone off them.

So, one thing we know...

little Matt's fighting
on the side of the Reds.

At least Linda will be pleased.

I don't mind as much
as you might think.

They're brave boys,
those Reds.

And they've had the sense
to knock off

a lot of bloody monks
and nuns and priests

and all those
Roman Catholic sewers.

Still, I think it's a pity
to fight

in a second-class war

when there'll soon be
a first-class one available.

Do you really think so?

Soon... quite soon now.

Lord William thinks so, too.

And a letter from Louisa
this morning.

Meanwhile, I suppose
you could say

that little Matt's keeping
his hand in.

Another thing we know
is that he finished

his course of training...
what there was of it...

and expects to be sent
to the front any minute.

I'm afraid, Fanny.

I'm very much afraid
from what I hear.

This side is going to get
the worst of it.

Picnic basket, medical chest...

much smarter than
silly old ladies.

Lady Montdore's toilet cases,
the osprey ones and suede,

and Her Ladyship's hat box.

One's three cases with one's
initials in onyx.

And one's manicure set
in crocodile hide.

Mr. Dougdale's two cases.

Whoo!

Lmitation leather,
dear, naughty boy.

We'll get you something de plus
chic in Paris or Troyes.

Ah, such a pity Polly
wouldn't come.

But it gives me much more
lovely room

for all our heavenly things.

BOY: No more abroad for Polly...
she said not ever.

She hated Sicily.

Oh, I hope she won't be
lonely without us.

She likes it at Silkham.
She'll go across to Alconleigh.

She loves Matthew and Sadie.

Alors, en voiture!

They've gone.

[Rapping]

Ladies and gentlemen,

there has been a letter.

MAN: Oh!

[Clears throat]

"Dear Comrade Boris,

we note that during the last
four weeks,

the takings from
the People's Bookshop

Our sincere and comradely
thanks are due to you

and to comrade Linda Talbot.

I enclose two medals

of commendation for
you both to wear

whilst engaged in your share
of the great task.

Power to the workers
by hand and brain.

Yours under Lenin,

I'Allergie Wretch."

[Laughter]

Comrade Linda?

It is now my pleasure
and privilege

to present you, on behalf
of the grateful proletariat

and its representatives here
assembled, with this emblem

of their esteem.

But such a squalid object
will never do.

[Laughter]

By some happy chance...

Eh?

[Oohs and aahs]

[Applause]

LINDA: Of course, I didn't dare
tell Christian.

I put it in a bank.

I really ought to sell it
for the comrades.

It's yours, you keep it!

But when I think of all
the things they need money for,

to help the families of
comrades in prison or exile,

and all the poor people
in the new refugee camps.

There's a camp Christian
may be going to

to try and make things
more bearable

in the south of France.

South of France?

Isn't that where those
foul Frogs display

their beastly bodies on beaches?

Odd place for a refugee camp.

Not the Riviera, Fa,

Perpignan, for the Spaniards
who escape over the Pyrenees.

I wish, I wish, I wish
we could hear news

on little Matt and the war.

I'm wildly nervous.

You know what Fa always says?

"Frogs are slightly better
than Huns or Wops,

but abroad
is unutterably bloody

and foreigners are fiends."

[Whistle blows]

I'm immensely looking
forward to it,

and to seeing Christian again.

[Whistle blows]

Got your ticket, passport,
money?

I've got my money
sewn into my stays.

Fa begged me to, and I must say
it did seem quite an idea.

Oh, why aren't you coming?

I do feel so terrified.

Think of sleeping on
the train all alone.

Perhaps you won't be alone.

Foreigners are, I believe,
greatly given to rape.

That would be nice!

So long as they didn't
find my safe.

Goodbye, darling!
Do think of me!

[Whistle blows]

I must explain that

I didn't see her again
for many months.

But afterwards,
as you shall see,

we spent a long,
quiet time together,

during which she told
it all to me

over and over again.

Of course, the journey was
an enchantment to her.

The fields of Picardy,

the steamy,
garlic-smelling heat

of the French train,

the delicious food,

the porters in their
blue overalls,

and then, at last,
the umbrella pines

that announce the South.

Christian didn't bother to meet
her at Perpignan,

so she had to find her own way
to the camp.

He always assumed that people
could look after themselves

unless they told him
they couldn't.

Whereupon, except in the case
of destitute,

colored, oppressed, leprous,

or otherwise uninviting
strangers,

he would take absolutely
no notice.

Christian was interested only
in mass wretchedness.

[Lndistinct conversation]

Good heavens, Linda!

Let me take those.

CHRISTIAN: Hello, darling.

Did you have a rotten journey?
You look absolutely awful.

This is Robert Parker.

How do you do?

It's nice to see a new face.

Thank you.

Well, do sit down.

I'll get you a drink.

Well, you've come
at an exciting time.

We've raised the funds,
we've chartered a ship,

we're making plans for sending
6,000 Spaniards to Mexico.

Now, since no Spaniard will move
without his entire family,

they've all got to be reunited
from camps all over the place

and assembled here,
convenient for the port.

You must give me
some work to do.

Yes, there's masses of it.

Can you speak Spanish?

No.

Well, you'll soon pick it up.

I'm quite sure I shan't.

[Chuckles]

ROBERT: What do you know about
welfare work?

Oh, dear.

How hopeless I seem to be...
nothing, I'm afraid.

Lavender will find her a job.

Lavender?

A girl called Lavender Davis.

No, I know her quite well.

She used to live near
Alconleigh.

That's it...
She said she knew you.

I had forgotten.

She used to breed badgers.

I always wanted a baby one.

Well, she does something a lot
more useful now.

She's really with the Quakers,

but she's a tremendous help to
us, too.

I don't know what we'd do
without Lavender.

There's absolutely nothing
she doesn't know

about calories and disinfectants
and nappies.

She seems to be
a trained midwife.

And she's the hardest worker
in the world.

Where is she? I thought she was
joining us for dinner.

There's been a nasty fight
in Block 7.

She's helping to mop up
the blood.

Why didn't you tell me before?

I must go and help her.

They're a very rough lot
in Block 7.

She's all right.

Randolph's with her.

No, no, she'll need my help.
Stay and have dinner with Linda.

I'll bring Lavender
back later.

Oh, dear...

on my first evening.

One of the things Christian
is trying to do

is get the refugees out
of camps and prisons.

Surely, they're destitute.

Where else can they go?

Well, in some cases,
they can be lent money

or given railway tickets

so that they can join relations
in France

or French Morocco.

A lot of them seem to be
waiting.

Most of them wait all day...

only to be told there's
no hope for them.

What?
What do they do then?

They apologize for having
been a nuisance.

So politely, it breaks
your bloody heart.

And then they withdraw...

back to the refugee camp.

This is where they
get their food.

Not very good, I'm afraid.

Best we can do.

And this is where we work.

Come inside.

[Typewriter clicking]

And then if we can't do
anything,

they're left to rot
behind barbed wire.

And don't simply blame
the French.

What are they to do with
tens of thousands

of uninvited Spaniards?

Anyway, one of our jobs is to
make a new life for them.

Talk about bricks without straw.

But we have positively got
this ship

which will be taking several
thousands to Mexico,

and that will certainly
ease the problem.

And here's where you come in,
Linda.

There's a job simply crying
out for you.

You can arrange
the accommodations on the ship.

Oh, thank you, Lavender.

Not at all!

And it's absolutely super
to see you again

after all this time.

Now, let's see, you can have
that table over there.

Whoops! There's Christian!

I must rush!

- Ready, Lavender?
- Yes.

Lavender's found me a job

arranging the accommodation
on your ship.

Oh, good.

But how exactly
do I set about it?

Won't somebody please explain?!

Robert will show you.

- Come on now.
- Bye.

You can have that table.

You can have that table.

I'm so sorry.

And this chair.

What delicious scent you have.

Apres I'Ondee?

I thought so.

Now...

here...

is a map of the ship.

The best cabins,
not such good cabins,

lousy cabins, and batten down
under the hatches.

And here is a list of
the families who are going.

All you have to do is allocate

each family its cabin.

How do I decide who gets
decent cabins

and who gets battened?

Very tricky, I'd say.

Not really.

The point is

it's a democratic ship

run on republican principles.

Class doesn't come into it.

I should give decent cabins

to families with
young children or babies.

It doesn't give their ages.

How am I to know they're a baby?

Easy answer... for once.

Before the civil war,
they were mostly called

either after saints

or after episodes
in the life of a virgin.

Anunciacion, Ascencion,
and so on.

Since the war, they've been
called Carlos...

after Karl Marx...

or else after some piece
of jargon, like...

Solidaridad.

So, if a passenger's called
Carlos or Libertad

or Proletariad,
you know he's under three.

How frightfully ingenious
of you.

But there is one nasty
complication.

Spanish husbands and wives
do not share a surname.

So, in the case of large
families

with grannies and
daughters-in-law and whatever,

it is not at all easy to know
who is married to whom.

Best cabin.

Best cabin.

Best.

Lousy.

Not so good.

A week before the ship sails,
they said.

That should just about do it.

Hello, Linda.

Matt!

Oh, Matt, is it really you?!

Yes, it's really me!

That Christian fellow of yours
told me you were here.

What are you doing here?

Your war is over.

Yes, lost.

But you're lucky.

Unlike these poor people,
you still have a home

and a country to go to.

Why not go back to England?

I'm an officer, you see?
I must stay with the boys.

Does mummy know you're
all right?

I sent a letter.

She won't have had it yet...
I only got here yesterday,

and met Christian
this afternoon.

Funny, he didn't tell me.

But then I haven't seen him
since this morning.

He seemed very busy,

and the arrival of my lot
didn't help.

Lavender Davis is with him.

She is very efficient
at de-lousing.

Come on.

Let's go out and have
some supper.

You're so thin!

Oh, no, I must have it back
there with the rest.

Well, is there anything
I can get for you?

Thrillers and cigarettes?

I'm going to see some
long days ahead.

Yes, of course.
Good night.

Night.

Now that we've found Matt,

I think we should see that
he gets home.

That's up to him.

He can come and go
as he pleases,

not like most of these
poor devils.

He stays because
he thinks it right.

Noblesse oblige.

He thinks it right, Christian.

Then why do you
want him to go home?

People say there's going
to be a war,

a really big war.

A world war, Linda, yes.

We should leave here
before that begins.

Oh, don't worry, I'll see he
gets out before then.

Thank you, Christian.

[Horn honks]

Oh, Lavender.

She's taking me to
a committee meeting

to arrange the embarkation.

Would you like me to come

to tell them about
the allocation of the cabins?

I'm getting on
pretty well with it.

Oh, no, no, this is about
transport to the ship.

Give the allocations to Robert
as soon as you finish them.

Embarkation go off all right?

CHRISTIAN: Perfect.

Thank you for holding the fort.

Did you work on any
special plan

when you were arranging
the cabins,

or how did you do it?

Why, was it all right?

It was excellent.

Everybody had a place
and made for it.

But we wondered what you went by

when you allocated
the good cabins.

I simply gave the best cabins
to the people

who had Labrador on their card,

because I had one
when I was little.

I remember her.

Oh, do you, Lavender?

I adored her.

She was called Labby.

Then all is now explained.

Labrador.

"Labrador" in Spanish happens
to mean laborer.

So under your splendidly
democratic scheme,

the peasants will find
themselves in luxury

while the intellectuals
were battened.

That will teach them
not to be so clever.

[Thunder rumbles]

[Baby cries]

Now, darling, presents
from home.

A parcel of shirts from mummy

and vitamin pills
from Davey Warbeck.

I don't think my chaps will
understand vitamin pills.

How many shirts?

Six.

That's one amongst
every five of them.

Well, they can draw lots.

Matt, mummy did send
them for you.

I have two shirts already,
Linda.

Oh, well...

I'll put them here
so you don't forget.

LAVENDER: Hello there.

Hello there,
how do you do?

I'm all right.

[Lndistinct conversation]

[Laughter]

Matt, would you mind?

I think I must go to bed.

Too much sun.

Yes, you don't look too good.

Can I help?

No, I'll be all right
if I just go to bed.

Of course.

Pity, though.

I shan't be seeing you
for a while, you see.

My lot are being moved

to a camp in the Camargue
tomorrow.

Sudden thing.

See you when it's all over,
then.

Yes...

when it's all over.

"It's one of those things which
have to be done at once.

So I'm off now, Christian,
before you get back.

I haven't much money, but I've
got my return ticket,

so don't worry about me.

Look after little Matt
if you can.

He's been sent to a place
in the Camargue.

And see he gets the shirts
which mummy sent...

he forgot them just now.

I think you will be very
happy with Lavender."

[Bell jingles]

[Speaking French]

Premier service, madame.

[Bell jingles]

Premier service!

Heavenly, those French trains.

I once went on one
which had a hairdresser's shop

and a famous Parisian tart
installed for the season.

[Whistle blows]

She was called La Pepe,
I remember.

La Pepe?

After one of her specialities.

Ha!

[Train chugging]

Oh, dear, so sad to be moving
north again.

But home, sweet home, my dears.

Lovely Hampton
and delicious Silkham

with Polly on the doorstep.

So Linda had burned
her boats

and arrived in Paris
for the first time

on her way back to London.

She hoped that she had
the taxi fare

from the Gare d'Austerlitz
to the Gare du Nord.

Combien?

Les baggages, s'il vous plait.

Les baggages?

Portez les baggages vous-meme.

[Mumbling]

Voyons, madame, le 29?

Aujourd'hui, c'est le 30,
n'est-ce pas?

Alors.

It's only one day I was late.

Alors.

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