Original subtitles

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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