Original subtitles

I'm terribly sorry.

Room for two more.

This way, please.

Boy, do I need to sit down.

My feet are just...

I'm awfully sorry.

I sometimes think we're a bit too friendly.

Pushy, even.

Americans, I mean.

I'm sure you're not.

It's possible we're too standoffish.

No, I like it.

My family wear it.

Gotta get in the blister.

Oh, dear.

Too much sightseeing?

No.

No, not really.

No, I'm looking for something.

Back at the hotel, they called it Somerset

House.

Oh, yes, where all the records are kept.

Births, marriages, deaths.

Well, what I should have had them do

was mark it in my A to Z.

But I always kid myself I can solve

everything.

That's how I got to where I am

in business.

Anyway, my feet were just killing me, and

I saw this place, it looked pleasant.

You know, and unpretentious, so I...

Yes, I come here for lunch sometimes because

it's quiet.

They don't play loud music all the time.

I know that up music.

It's everywhere.

Well, it sure is good to have a

nice young person agree with you.

I was beginning to think I was getting

old-fashioned.

I don't think I'm quite that young.

What?

You're no more than...

What, 25?

I am.

I'm 28.

Well, I...

Well, I wish that I was 28 again.

Last year I got married.

I had a wonderful wife.

I still miss her a lot.

Oh, she...

She...

She disappeared.

Table for two.

I can seat you now.

Oh, well, we're not really...

Well, look, maybe...

Maybe you're stuck with me.

Is that all right?

Oh, yes, of course.

Will you see the menu, please?

There is one.

It's all up there.

Oh.

Well, let's have a look at the wine

list.

You know, back home, we tend to drink

our own.

That's California.

In fact, wine's my business.

You sell it?

How interesting.

No, I make it.

No, I supervise it.

I own some very big vineyards.

Oh, how nice.

Excuse me, I could have sworn that you

said that your wife was...

This is a really a very...

A very nice place.

That was the most terrible thing that ever

happened to me in my whole life.

It was three years ago.

There was no note, nothing.

I just came home one day and she

was gone.

Surely you told the police.

Oh, yeah, I...

I drove them crazy.

But, um, you know, they got hundreds.

They got thousands of people on their missing

persons list.

After a while, I just gave up.

Even they said eventually I'd better just assume

that she was dead.

Oh.

How awful for you.

Oh, you're a very nice person.

I ask myself time and time again, what

did I do wrong?

Maybe I just like things too so-so.

I don't know.

But my life's been a blank since then.

No kids, so I'm all on my own.

Are you ready to order?

The lamb casserole's best today.

Yes, that's fine.

Casserole?

Yeah.

And a bottle...

You'll let me buy you lunch?

Oh, heavens no.

Why should you?

Well, at least a bottle of wine.

All right.

Er...

Saint-Emilion.

Huh?

What?

Number 12, Saint-Emilion.

Right.

Right, two lamb casseroles and one bottle of

number 12.

Coming up.

So difficult, conversations in restaurants.

Where were we?

Well, I'm afraid I was being my usual

melancholy self.

Living alone in the desert.

Oh, I see.

You've no family in California, so you decided

to find your ancestors, hence Somerset House.

Well, my family come from England, at least

my mother and I did about 40...

45 years ago.

Now, if I could just locate somebody who

could...

Oh, dear, I almost led you astray.

It's not Somerset House any longer.

They've moved.

Oh, no?

Well, what, very far?

Well, it's not in this area, but I

can point you in the right direction.

Well, would you know, is it difficult to

look somebody up?

I shouldn't think so, if you've got the

right names and dates and so on.

Well, I don't have too much to go

on.

I thought I'd start with my father's grandfather,

because he...

Well, I mean, I don't have much choice.

I never really knew my mother's maiden name.

She died when I was just a little

fella.

I'm, uh, kind of a self-made man.

Orphanage to vineyards.

Only took 30 years.

Well, where did your father's family come from?

Well, a village in Norfolk called Bedham...

Bedham.

I remember.

One of the first things I remember was

my mother pronouncing it in very English.

Not Bedham, she'd say, but Bedham.

Well, there's your starting point.

You do know in what year your grandfather

was born?

Well, I'm not sure.

Uh, Dad was an only child.

My grandfather had three brothers, and they were

born around 1860, 1870.

So if I draw a blank there, I'll

just go five years forward and five years

back.

It would take an awfully long time.

Of course, it would help if you had

a fairly uncommon name.

I mean, there can't be many entries under,

say, James...

Cricklesnap?

Oh, the lamb, aren't you?

Oh, no, we ordered number 12, the Saint

Emilion.

What?

Oh, hell!

Steve, do you think we'll get a simple

little order, like something wrong?

Oh, no.

It just happens that my name is Smith.

Smith?

Really, Eva, why didn't you offer to help

him?

Me?

Well, it didn't even occur to me.

But a man with a fortune?

Well, he's obviously rich, dear.

Vineyards in California.

And no offspring.

He might have taken a fancy to her,

forgotten about finding boring old relatives.

I hardly think so.

He seemed to have this need.

How long does he have in England?

I don't really know.

A couple of weeks, I think.

Then he's out of his mind.

He could spend ages just working through the

index before he so much as claps eyes

on any birth, marriage or death certificates.

I bet he gives up on the first

day.

Not him.

Too important to him.

Why?

They expect to find he's well-connected, in

line for a title, Lord Smith of San

Francisco.

Janet, you do boil everything down to...

He's lonely.

I mean, he's the most ordinary-looking man.

Middle-aged, slightly tanned, quite well-dressed.

He was like an overweight teddy bear.

And he seemed to have this need to...

I don't know.

Find somebody he belonged to.

Or who belonged to him, naturally.

He wants the fortune to stay in the

family.

Yes, well, perhaps it's as simple as that.

Darling, do switch that thing off.

We can do them any old time.

I want to toss it.

All right, um, I'll make some coffee.

Can you imagine how many Smiths are born

in England in a year?

Your Mr Smith has to check every male

Smith born in...

What was the name of the village?

In Norfolk, was it?

It does sound impossible.

Poor Mr Smith.

Don't tell me, darling.

I know.

I've been through it.

One of the first assignments I had on

the magazine was to locate the descendants of

Thomas Hughes.

Thomas Hughes?

Yes.

He wrote Tom Brown's School Days.

Really, Eva.

Didn't your family ever teach you to read?

Darling, what have you done with my conditioner?

I feel quite bad about it.

I more or less encouraged him.

Actually, there is another way.

What's that?

Parish Record, if you knew the village in

Norfolk.

It ended in ham.

Pronounced mm.

Mm.

Well, there's Bressingham.

My aunt's a great gardener.

We went to Bressingham Hall once.

Lovely display.

A wonderful lot of alpine plants.

Why alpine in Norfolk?

I'll never understand.

Just flat as a pancake.

Towel.

Read, um...

Read Bedham.

That was it.

Not Bedham.

Bedham.

There you are then.

The local church would be sure to have

it.

You can check each denomination.

A village can't have that many churches.

Probably Anglican anyway.

The father's name would be in the register.

Which father?

The father of the three brothers.

Oh, do try to keep up, dear.

Your Mr Smith has to check each brother's

entry to establish their Christian names.

Then look under those names to find the

marriage entries.

The marriages would be years later.

Some of them may have moved away.

I know, darling.

I've been through it all, dear, with old

Watsit, Thomas Hughes.

Believe me, your Mr Smith needs all the

help he can get.

Well, don't look at me.

Why not?

Oh, Janet, it was a chance conversation in

a wine bar.

Oh, Eva, you're so negative.

I'm not.

I just don't think it's any of my

business.

Really, dear, aren't you always telling me what

a wonderful life I have on the magazine,

how I get about the country and abroad

too, and how boring your life is in

your electronics firm?

Mr Smith didn't once mention where he was

staying in London.

Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have

the faintest idea where to find him.

Don't be stupid, dear.

You've just told me exactly where you'll be,

at least for the next few days, in

the Kingsway, in the register office, working through

the Smiths.

Well, if you won't go, I will.

Janet, you wouldn't.

Why not help the poor old thing?

And your motives would be of the purest,

wouldn't they?

Don't be silly, darling.

Of course I won't do anything.

Can't you take a joke?

Janet, I was here yesterday.

Oh, Arthur.

Are you all right?

I'm sorry.

I just can't find the volume I want.

Someone's obviously put it back on the wrong

shelf.

I know.

People just don't think.

Might have known it wouldn't work.

I've just moved into a new office nearby,

and I decided to nip out and do

something I've been meaning to do for ages.

Look up my ancestors.

Silly of me.

I have to get back to work.

What date are you looking for?

Oh, uh, 1868.

The second quarter.

That's the one I've got right here.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to...

No, look, you go ahead.

I've got all day.

Your time is more valuable than mine.

Are you sure?

Yeah.

Please.

That's very kind of you.

It'll probably take ages anyway.

Why did my mother have to have such

a common name as Smith?

Your name is Smith?

I guess it's not that much of a

coincidence.

Well, my mother's name, actually.

I'm Janet Maddock.

Oh, John Smith.

I'm having a terrible time.

Oh, why is that?

Well, the trouble is, they don't have any

villages here.

Just the nearest big town.

If I don't know the town, I've got

to try to spot my grandfather's village.

Well, close by.

That must take ages.

Yeah, but I'm getting faster.

Anyway, I'm taking up your precious time.

No, not at all.

Ah.

I wonder if this is my Smith.

Matthew.

Great Yarmouth.

I imagine that's where they'd register people born

in Bedham.

Did you say Bedham?

Yes.

In Norfolk?

Why, yes.

Miss Murdoch.

I've got something really wonderful to tell you.

Matthew Smith, Mark Smith, Luke Smith.

How about that?

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

You know, we got to Mark before we

realised...

It's not infrequent, sir.

But you only appear to have three here.

John seems to be missing.

Well, John's my grandfather.

I know all about him.

No, it's his brother's descendants I'm trying to

trace.

And I think I've found one already.

But we'll have to wait for the birth

certificates to be sure.

How long will that take?

Three or four days.

Quite soon.

Soon?

Janet, I've got a great idea.

I'll be back to pay you in a

minute.

Now, what?

Now, don't get me wrong.

But this weekend, why don't you and I

travel to Norfolk together?

To Bedham.

To find the church with all the old

parish records.

Now, I am sure this is the best

way to find out about our people.

Will you?

Will you come?

I'd be delighted to, Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith!

I'd better sort out exactly what relation to

me you are.

Look, can I say something?

I've dreamed for a long time about finding

someone.

Or some family.

And it might have been a boring old

uncle or a...

a wicked great aunt.

Instead, it was you.

I'd better get back.

Look.

Here's where I'm staying.

Phone me.

First thing in the morning.

And tell me what arrangements to make for

the weekend.

Hello?

Tommy Williams here.

Oh, hello, Tommy.

Can you just hold on for a second?

Yeah, sure.

Hello.

Is Janet there?

Oh, no.

Isn't she away on a job?

Oh, not for the magazine.

I haven't seen her all week.

Oh, well, you know Janet.

She never tells me where she's going or

when she's coming back.

Do us a favour.

Take a look around.

She may have left something.

A note or something like that.

Oh, all right.

I'll have a look round.

Yes, do that.

Ring me back, OK?

Yes, OK, Tommy.

I'll get right back to you.

Thanks.

MUSIC PLAYS ..after

you've left for Norfolk.

It's simply to confirm that I shall be

pleased to show you the entries in our

register pertaining to your mother's family, the Smiths.

Although it's very likely that we have nothing

that you have not already seen at the

general register office.

Yours sincerely, Dennis Harcourt, vicar.

The bitch!

Why, yes, Miss Murdoch called on a Saturday

afternoon.

Two weeks ago it would have been, or

was it more?

No, that's right, I was conducting a baptism.

Or was it the...? Yes, a baptism.

And they waited until it was over.

She had someone with her?

Her cousin.

Her cousin?

Well, I gather it wasn't her first cousin,

but they were related in some way.

He was from America.

His name was John Smith.

John Smith III, as the Americans like to

say.

A middle-aged man, slightly overweight, with greying

temples.

Indeed.

He was most appreciative of everything that I

showed him.

Well, his father and his grandfather were born

here, so I was able to look up

their baptisms and their marriages in the register.

It goes back to the 16th century.

Oh, we're very proud of our register.

And did it turn out that Miss Murdoch

was related to the Smiths of Beddon?

On her mother's side.

Her great-grandfather, Martin Smith, is buried in

the churchyard.

Would you like to see his grave?

He was the brother of the American gentleman's

grandfather, if I've got it right.

That's the only Smith grave of that period

in the churchyard.

When I first got Miss Murdoch's letter, I

was hoping I would be able to locate

the graves of the grandfather and father of

our American visitor.

I thought it would be such a thrill

for him.

But it was not to be.

No, they are buried elsewhere.

Do you know where?

Yes, I got it from Mr Harper, the

sexton.

He's been here much longer than I have.

Is it confidential?

No, not really.

It was information that in the circumstances, I

decided not to volunteer to Miss Murdoch and

Mr Smith.

They both seemed so happy to have found

each other, and one didn't wish it.

You're not one of the family, are you?

Oh, no, absolutely not.

Oh, well, then.

At first, John Smith, our American friend's grandfather,

was apparently given to the most appalling fits

of violence, and he became quite dangerous.

He was committed to a private asylum in

London, and he ended his days there.

And his only son, the second John Smith,

he also ended his days in distressing circumstances.

He was convicted of murdering two local girls

by strangulation.

Thunder was believed to have been the third,

but the charge was never brought.

He was found guilty but insane and sent

to Broadmoor.

And to compound the tragedy, he had a

wife and a baby son, and they went

to America.

Well, how can you tell somebody that their

grandfather and their father are psychopaths?

Perhaps you can understand why I was silent

on the matter when Mr Smith and Miss

Murdoch was here.

I do think that the medical men and

the psychiatrists make too much of heredity.

And anyway, the dear girl will be safe

in London by now, won't she?

But that's the point.

She never came home.

That's the other two weeks, isn't it?

Oh!

Oh, my word!