Original subtitles

Nellie?

Yes?

It's Mabel.

What?

Mabel.

Who?

Mabel Ince.

Oh yes.

We've just heard and we thought we ought

to let you know that poor Dench is

dead.

Who?

Dench.

Dench?

Yes, poor darling Denchy.

She died years ago.

Must have been a hundred.

Oh nonsense, Nellie.

She was old in the war.

Oh, she was wonderful in the war.

Nellie, Fanny is with me.

Who?

Fanny Soane.

Oh, Fanny.

Thought she was dead too.

Oh, what is she saying?

Oh, she's absolutely hopeless.

We thought we ought to do something.

Put in a tribute.

A what?

A tribute to Dench in the Times.

I don't know about the Times anymore.

Well then.

The Telegraph perhaps.

Yes, all right.

Then the Telegraph.

So you do agree...

Sorry, we can't go on.

It's too expensive.

Nellie, I'm paying for the call.

Nellie?

She's hung up.

Nellie Benson is impossible.

She's absolutely gargled.

She's always been impossible.

She wasn't in the least bit interested about

poor old Dench.

When one thinks how much Denchy did for

those awful children.

Saw the famous Charlotte through virus pneumonia, didn't

she?

Oh, she did.

Nellie just went off to join Charles in

Geneva and left dear old Denchy to it.

Wasn't as though Denchy was ever paid or

anything, please.

I never paid her, did you?

Oh, no, just her keep.

One just couldn't.

She never asked.

Poor as a church mouse, probably.

One just fed her.

She came to stay.

To stop, as she called it.

Yes, to stop.

So she did, bless her.

Did I do that?

I suppose the Telegraph is all right.

Oh, Denchy adored the Times, didn't she?

I don't believe she could have borne life

without the court circular.

It rivets me, she used to say.

It rivets me.

Mabel, what are you looking for?

I found a photograph of Denchy only the

other day.

I must have put it somewhere.

Do you think she was ill very long?

The last Christmas card I had from her

was very shaky.

In fact, I think there was only the

signature.

The little message was written by some niece.

Oh, do you want some more tea?

No, dear, thank you.

Mabel, did you get a sort of begging

letter about Denchy?

I think that was from the niece, too.

She wanted to get poor Denchy into some

sort of private nursing home.

I meant to send a fiver or something,

but it was just before we went off

to Penang.

I do hate that sort of letter.

It's so embarrassing all round.

One feels one can't possibly do enough, so

one does nothing.

Now, of course, we just have our service

pension.

So do we.

We could do with a whip round ourselves.

I wish we had a niece.

I did feel a bit dreadful about it,

though.

I think if we did this tribute now,

I should feel better about it.

Shall we ring around?

Yes, let's.

There must be half a dozen families who'd

want to join in.

It's about two pounds a line, isn't it?

Yes, all we need say is, in memory

of dear Dench, beloved nanny.

Oh, I think, and friend.

Nanny and friend for many years, and the

names of the families.

I think it's a very nice idea, Mabel.

If we get enough people, it shouldn't come

to more than, say, what, a pound each,

should it?

Well, that's the least we can do.

Well, isn't it?

With or without Nellie Benson.

Humphrey!

Hello.

Mabel.

Letter.

From the niece.

Ah, yes, we all did.

What?

Panny and I did, too.

The niece wants to meet her.

Yes.

We thought somewhere like Fortnum's for lunch.

A lunch?

Much too expensive.

Oh, well, somewhere nice.

And we won't put anything in the newspaper.

Why not?

That's just the point.

We'll make the lunch our tribute.

A lot of nonsense, anyway.

Oh, silly old bag.

Food is

on the table, Roderick.

And only two sugars in your tea, dear.

You know it's bad for you.

Mabel, we must hurry.

I'm sure we're late.

You grow your own vegetables?

Divine.

I just couldn't find you.

I thought it was Woodland, but really, it's

Rains Park, isn't it?

Oh, an elephant's foot.

Oh, it's a wood scraper.

Oh, what a good idea.

It's a far cry from the Maharaja's palace,

I'm afraid.

At least Dench has been spared seeing what's

become of us all.

Used to talk about love of country.

Do you remember how she stood for the

National Anthem?

We all did that.

We still do, don't you?

Not like Dench did.

I mean, to attention.

Like a ram, Rod.

Half a lifetime of invitations.

Menus, notes, guest lists.

Do you remember Prague?

Those high ceilings.

Someone once told me why ceilings in embassies

are always so high.

It's to take the noise of the cocktail

parties.

Didn't old Dench love cocktail parties?

I used to let her watch sometimes, with

the children on the manning out of sight,

of course.

I just thought of Nellie's invitation.

Gloves.

Gloves.

What a left-hand call.

Gloves will be worn.

Oh, my God.

Is that her?

Nellie, you're not going in bedrooms, are you?

Oh, I can get my feet into them.

Except Wellington's.

Who'd go about?

I have this house to run.

Nellie, I do think you could use my

wellies for gargling.

Bedroom slippers are not suitable for lunch, Nellie.

Well, I think I have a pair of

Dr. So's at work.

I remember that hat, Mabel.

You bought it for the Queen's birthday do

once in Dar es Salaam, which reminded me

of a dead blackbird.

I think perhaps we're out of the fourth

form now, Nellie.

Where are you now, Mabel?

I heard you had to sell the castle.

I suppose old Humphrey lost his money.

Oh, Nellie, do be quiet.

Horses.

Always lost on the horses, did Humphrey.

Really flung it about.

Where do you live now?

Newbury.

Near the corpse, I suppose.

Not sure.

He watches on television.

I can't afford one.

And where do you live, Nellie?

Oh, Wimbledon.

Oh, that's a pity.

A long way from London.

Further than Newbury, in a sense.

Nellie has a charming house.

Feathery road, delicious red brick.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if it

had been designed by Norman Shaw.

Norman Shaw?

Wasn't the ABC in Panagar?

Yes.

Terrible old pansy.

Dench couldn't bear him.

Didn't approve.

I come up to town to the diplomatic

wives.

Well, Dench would have approved of that.

Poor Dench.

She was never a wife.

There was a man once, though.

The children used to tease her about him.

Some Brazilian millionaire.

A widower.

No, no, not a widower.

Very much married.

Catholic.

But what was his name?

The children used to call him Mr. Saltina.

Mr. Saltina.

Why did they do that?

It's from a book, Nellie.

Do you suppose he really existed?

Oh, I've no idea.

Do you think she was a lesbian?

Well, I mean, some nannies are.

Subconsciously, of course.

Dench is subconscious.

Mrs. Ince.

Oh, yes.

Your table.

This is nice.

We can see everything here.

Oh, thank you.

I'm sorry.

They seem to have held a corner table

for you, if you'd be so kind.

Waiter!

Oh, great.

They shoved one away into a corner and

then completely ignored one.

A young man.

Madam.

We're expecting a young woman to join us.

A Miss Dench.

Would you please show her to this table?

She'll ask for Lady Benson.

Yes, madam.

How will we know her?

The niece.

She's quite young, isn't she?

Sounded quite young in the letter.

She's probably the great niece.

A little sherry while you're waiting, madam?

Not yet, thank you.

Thank you, madam.

How are we going to know her?

Any of these women could be nieces eating

their lunch.

Well, a lot of people are nieces and

eat lunch.

I mean, we've all been nieces.

Not primarily.

We were never primarily nieces.

To be a niece is probably their only

function in life.

I think I once saw Dench's niece.

Nieces, nieces.

What are you talking about?

I went down to East Molesy about seven

or eight years ago to see Dench and

I think it was the niece who let

me in.

Nice little woman.

Yes, I think I shall remember the face

when I see it.

Masses of ironing about.

Ironing?

Yes, on eras.

You know, those old-fashioned standing eras all

over the sitting room.

Ironing.

Oh, beautiful ironing it was.

I remember the smell.

Lovely, clean, warm, clothed smell.

And Dench, eh?

In a bed in the corner.

Oh, she did look so small.

Yes, a very good sort of woman, I

should think, the niece.

Bed in the sitting room.

Oh, I suppose that's what she meant about

the nursing home.

Oh, come on.

Dench was no trouble.

Ate like a bird.

Yes, Dench was cheap.

During the war, I found that photograph.

If ever we got anything on the black

market, there were some eggs once.

Mabel has an old photo of Dench.

Not on her own, of course, with the

children.

Which one is Dench?

Oh, don't be so provoking, Nelly.

That's Dench with my three.

There are four children.

That's what made me think of it.

We were at home at the time, in

Lincolnshire, and somebody brought us six beautiful eggs.

Fresh eggs during the war.

We had them boiled as a treat.

There was Humph and I and my three

and this little thing who was staying with

us, Polly Knox.

Oh, you remember the Knoxes.

Pretty child, Dench's daughter.

Oh, and all ours, too, of course.

The eggs, dear.

Well, there were seven of us and only

six eggs, and somebody said, what about Dench?

And little Polly Knox said, you shall have

half mine, Denchy.

And Denchy absolutely straight away said, thank you,

my dear, but I do not take eggs.

She used to say that about cream.

Thank you, I do not take cream.

She had a pretty good life, I should

think, old Denchy.

I wonder if she ever got the old

age pension.

I never paid her stamp, did you?

Oh, do you think we should have sherry?

Yes.

All right.

Yes, which is very late, at least.

We'll have sherry.

Waiter.

Waiter.

Three sherrys.

Very dry.

Oh, dry?

Yes, dry.

Very dry.

Yes, madam.

What about ordering some wine?

Oh, this is a tribute, isn't it?

I want the niece to think that we've

done things properly.

Do they have half bottles?

Can't order wine.

Don't know what the niece is going to

eat.

Nellie, don't be so tiresome.

That's my bag.

Someone's stolen my shopping bag.

I can't think anyone.

Oh, look, Nellie, dear, please, do take care.

What about time before that wretched niece arrives

to go down to their fish place?

I thought I'd get some fin and haddock.

Frightfully expensive, Nellie.

Yes, frightfully.

At least it'll be fin and haddock.

Where I live, they're just as likely to

pass off a piece of died cod.

Well, I think we should all be here

when the niece comes.

If she comes, which I'm beginning to doubt.

Oh, what does she want us for?

It was in the letter, Nellie.

Mementos.

Well, I think we should order.

She's obviously not coming now.

You'll be lucky to catch his eye.

Well, let's all know what we're going to

have.

Well, how about chicken a la king all

round?

Well, I don't want anything to start with.

Oh, no, nothing to start with.

And don't spend money if the niece isn't

coming.

Well, a salad with the chicken.

Green salad.

I want vegetables.

I've seen to eat vegetables.

I was trying to remember when we first

met, Ditch.

I found her, 125, in Jamaica, on her

way back from Rio, sitting all alone at

a table at Limona.

And I thought, what a charming little woman,

and she looked so sad.

I suppose she'd just left Mr. Saltina.

She was sad.

Not a bean.

Well, the children took to her, and I

thought, she might be just the thing, and

I took her on.

That was over 40 years ago.

Oh, devoted.

Utterly reliable, but so sad.

We used to send her good presents, though.

A pound of tea at Christmas when we

were in Salon.

My dear, that woman's coming over to our

table.

That can't be the niece, can it?

Well, not if she's bringing parcels.

This one's not carrying.

Dears, I am so terribly sorry.

I was late getting away, and we found

it so difficult to park.

Chetwood couldn't stay with the car because of

the parcels.

On the shelf, Chetwood, don't you think?

I do hope you went ahead.

Oh, dear, thank you.

I'm afraid they're nothing much.

She said in the will that you were

to have mementos, but she had so little.

Do you not believe how little?

So few possessions.

Thank you, Chetwood.

Well, champagne?

Thank you.

We are here to celebrate the life, the

happy life of one of the dearest, dearest

old...

I won't call this an in-memoriam.

Then she couldn't bear to talk about anything

gloomy.

She led the happiest life and died peacefully,

thinking about us all.

A good dry, that one.

Number six.

Certainly, madam.

Thank you.

Well, I'm sure we're all very glad to

know that Dench was so happy.

You say our name.

I believe she talked about you three more

than anyone else.

Day after day, year in, year out.

All the places she'd seen through you.

And how you rescued her, Mrs. Ince, when

she was in very low water, and gave

her an absolutely free hand with all your

children, and even grandchildren, Lady Benson.

Ah, how nice.

We all grew to rely on her very

much.

She always knew her...

Oh, just pour it out.

Would it be an awful bore to put

the champagne on a separate bill for me?

She wanted us to pay for the mercy

now.

Mine.

We all knew Dench for a great number

of years.

A great number of years.

She was a very good servant.

And friend.

Nanny and friend.

We were all devoted to her.

Do you remember the roses?

Persia.

Dench was looking after your children, Lady Benson,

when Simon wasn't, it kicked her.

And your daughter said, Dench must have some

roses, and took the secateurs, and a basket,

and led her out into the garden.

And you leaned out of the window and

said, only three now.

Three roses.

Priceless.

You do remember those gardens?

One of the sights of Persia.

Two thousand rose trees.

How Denchie laughed.

I wouldn't have thought Denchie had enough room

for displaying a lot of roses.

Of course not.

She was always in the attic.

She wasn't minding.

It just made us both laugh when she

told it.

To Dench.

To Dench.

To Dench.

I felt personally very

sorry about the nursing home business.

I'd like to have helped Dench.

Even taken her myself for a week or

two, just to help the family out, but

we were abroad.

Oh, but you refused, didn't you know?

You mustn't worry.

It was all settled about the nursing home

without your kind help.

I promise you, she never knew you'd been

asked.

Always had my shoes.

One thing I missed most, if you really

want to know.

Good shoes.

The shoes are still there.

Rows and rows.

They're very old-fashioned, but if you wish,

I could let you have them back, I'm

sure.

Dench never wore them.

They were too big.

Though she was a lamb, I'm sure she

never told you.

And these!

Madam.

These are the little mementos.

All I could find, and I am so

sorry.

Mrs. Ince.

Lady Benson.

Just little brass things.

A banana tray.

A hand belt.

Oh!

Thank you.

An elephant's foot.

It could be adapted as a boot scraper.

Very good of you to bother.

Very good.

I feel honoured...

to think that these things were all she

had, and she left them to us.

All she had.

Well, except for the money.

Money?

The South American money.

Dench?

From Mr. Saltina, as we used to call

him.

You mean he did exist?

Oh, yes.

Mr. Saltina existed.

He left her 400 sweet...

Thousand.

400,000.

He died only a short time before she

did, but there it was.

She left 200,000 of it to her

niece.

Aren't you the niece?

Me?

Darling.

Darling Lady Benson.

Didn't I say...

Didn't you recognise me?

Oh, dear.

Of course.

It's been so long.

How silly.

I was so fussed being late, I forgot

to say.

Her niece said no.

She couldn't face it, coming up to London,

to this posh place.

The money hasn't altered her a bit.

She said she had the ironing.

Ironing?

Well, then who...

But I'm Polly Knox.

You must remember me.

Polly Knox.

I've kept in touch with Dench all these

years.

She left the other 200,000 to me.

And I've been astounded and quite speechless ever

since.

Her niece said Dench just lay there in

bed with the solicitor's letter on the counterpane

and smiled.

And her niece asked her, why Polly Knox,

Auntie?

And dear old Dench said...

And, well, I must say, I've wondered ever

since what on earth she meant.

What did she say?

She just said, Tell Polly she shall have

half my egg.