Original subtitles

Robert, just a sec.

Congratulations, Robert.

Thank you.

Well, running a London borough will be a

damn sight more stimulating than this place.

When do you go?

As soon as I can get out of

my contract.

Do you see that?

Scrape.

Oh, dear.

It's a dent.

Second time it's happened this month.

I wish I could get my hands on

whoever did it.

Well, it could be the space.

People drive in, can't find anywhere to park.

They get jealous, resentful.

Got in yourself, I see.

Yes, lucky.

Two spaces allocated between four of us.

Of course, if I get the promotion...

Not a chance.

Sorry, old chap.

Inside information.

They're dividing the department and splitting the job.

My idea, I'm afraid.

So unless you come on a bicycle, it'll

be a tight squeeze.

Excuse me.

Always in a hurry, eh, Robert?

Always.

I've been meaning to ask you a trivial

thing.

Weren't you once a member of the M

...G. Owners Club?

Twenty years ago, yes.

Why?

Well, I've got this letter from some girl

trying to trace an old member of the

club.

Well, it's been closed a long time.

Trail?

Why don't you give me the letter?

I might be able to help.

Right.

I'm staying at the above address and would

be very grateful for any information about the

M.G. Club.

Yours sincerely, Jane Fisher.

May I?

What are you looking for?

The newspaper office.

Broad Street.

May I?

It's this very narrow street running off the

main square.

Thank you.

A holiday?

Sort of.

Do you live here?

Twenty years too long.

That's odd.

Oh, I'm looking for someone who came here

twenty years ago.

What was the name?

I don't know.

Could make it rather difficult.

Yes, but not impossible.

I have various leads.

Leads?

You sound like a private eye.

The man drove an M.G. I rode

into town on a bicycle.

Might one ask why you're trying to trace

this nameless person?

I can't say.

It's someone who may not want to be

traced.

Sounds intriguing.

Where are you from?

Elmston.

Oh, know it well.

In fact, I wonder if I can help.

Well, there used to be an M.G.

Club.

You said you rode a bike.

So I did, but a friend of mine

had an M.G. A real old banger.

What was his name?

Damn it, it's on the tip of my

tongue.

I'll remember it as soon as you've gone.

Why don't you give me your phone number?

It's just a rented room.

There's no phone.

I'm not trying to pick you up.

I'll be around.

Well, if I remember, I'll try and find

you.

Good luck with the detective work.

I could be your doctor Watson.

What's wrong, Robert?

Why do you automatically assume something's wrong?

I've never known you home at this time

before.

There's no point in flogging myself to death

now that I'm leaving.

I thought I'd do some gardening.

Relax.

I've never known you do that, either.

Police are appealing for witnesses to an accident

that occurred on Saturday, July the 22nd, 1967,

between 11.30 a.m. and 1.00

p.m. The

girl was found lying near to a small

intersection that joins Heathside Lane with Home Farm

Road.

She had apparently been knocked from her bicycle

by a vehicle that failed to stop.

The girl, Mary Wells, aged ten, was found

to be dead on arrival at the cottage

hospital.

Fisher.

Perhaps she's a cousin.

I always wondered if that other car saw

something.

But she can't know the number.

Otherwise, the police would have picked me up.

Robert?

I thought I'd do a bit of digging.

Someone scraped your car.

I know.

It wasn't me.

I wasn't there.

Hello, Sherlock.

Any more leads?

I'm getting warmer.

Really?

Why do you want to know?

Because I'm helping you, remember?

Did you remember the name of your friend?

Yes, that's why I've been looking for you.

His name is Stuart.

Was that his surname?

Stuart French.

And have you got an address?

Patience, my dear Holmes.

I'm still trying to trace him.

If you find him...

When I find him...

And if he remembers who owned this MG,

get in touch with me here, Mr...? Oh,

call me Gerry.

Jane.

Jane.

I must go.

I'm hoping to collect some photographs, including one

of the MG.

Yeah, of course.

Yeah, all right.

I've brought it down.

I've got it here, but it's just not

possible, all right?

Don't you know what it's like down here?

It's complete chaos.

It's just not going to work out.

Yeah, they've got the artwork, but there's still

no copy.

Well, you try telling him.

I've tried telling him until I'm blue in

the face.

No chance.

No chance.

The page has gone.

No chance.

He won't go in this week.

Look, tell me what you've got, and I'll

try and work something out here, all right?

Yeah, go on.

Go ahead.

Robert!

You look as if you've seen a ghost.

A young one.

I have to go.

Ten seconds.

I'm just taking this planning sketch into the

Mercury, and in the caption I'm stressing that...

Margaret?

Nothing's ever happened to us, but it's all

been bloody well photographed.

No one could have seen the number.

How the hell does she know?

She must have gone round all the wedding

photographers.

Why they printed that one, I shall never

know.

What is wrong?

Nothing's wrong.

You startled me, and that's all creeping about.

I thought you were out.

Well, creep off, then.

Margaret, I'm sorry.

Please.

I don't know what's the matter with you.

Oh, Ali, it's just I've been all churned

up.

Churned up?

Yes, leaving after all these years.

Is that why you were looking at our

old wedding photographs?

Well, leaving makes you think about the past.

Silly sentimental.

No, it's not.

It's not like you, that's all.

Nor are these much.

How different you look with glasses.

God, look at my hair.

Do you remember Rebecca?

I said I'd like one like that.

Well, pity you couldn't.

Yes.

You still haven't told me what you're churned

up about.

Well, this new job is a big jump,

and although I've always been on the move

here, I've been going up standing still, if

you follow me.

And, well, you were out, and so I

thought I'd remind myself of this confident young

man looking forward to life's journey.

London's so different, you see.

I don't know whether I'm capable of it.

Of course you are.

I think it's rather nice to see you

have doubts.

Well, of course I have doubts.

You don't show them.

No, I can't afford to.

Perhaps that's why you're so successful.

I just regret the children, or rather the

lack of them.

I'm sorry, I know you don't like me

talking about it, and I know it's useless,

my going on, but it's what I feel.

I do regret it.

Yes, well, it was just one of those

things.

Oh, it wasn't.

Of course it was.

You couldn't have them.

I might have had one.

Well, Margaret.

I might.

Yes, but the doctor said.

That doctor.

Well, he was a gynaecologist.

He said there was some internal problem caused

by, I don't know what.

He explained it to you, not to me.

You know more about it than I do.

Yes.

But he did say that there was considerable

risk to the baby and to yourself, and

I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening

to you.

I was quite capable of having a baby.

I still am.

All I did wrong was to show my

doubts and give in to them, unlike you.

I want to try.

I still can't.

Don't be stupid.

I'm not being stupid.

I'm sorry.

That was an awful thing to say.

I know how you must feel, darling, but.

You do.

Yes, I do, but there's an even greater

risk now.

I'll take it.

Well, I won't.

I want to take it.

I do.

Margaret!

I don't want to spend another 20 years

of my life trimming roses!

Excuse me.

Can you take this?

Yeah, probably enough.

Thank you.

It'll mend.

Will it?

Of course it will.

I didn't realise you still felt so strongly

about all this.

Neither did I.

Now, why don't we go out tonight, hmm?

We could go to the windmill, talk it

out.

I still haven't told you enough about London.

I know it's a daunting prospect, but it'll

also be bloody exciting.

It's a far cry from trimming roses.

You're bored out of your mind here, aren't

you?

That's it, isn't it?

I shall miss the garden.

There are houses with gardens in London, and

we'll find one, I promise.

It'll be a fresh start, a whole new

life.

Now, go on.

Get changed.

I'll be back in about an hour.

You're not going out?

Yes, it's just something I have to do.

You know I can never relax when I

have unfinished business.

I'll do that.

All right.

Hello, can I come in?

I have something to tell you.

Well, I'm sorry to say the search is

over.

Oh, is it?

Yes, I know everything.

So you know the name of the man

who drove the MG?

Yes, his name's

Robert...

Would you like one?

Yes, OK, thank you.

Do you know, shall I tell you something

funny?

After I met you, it crossed my mind

that you might be him.

Did it?

Did it really?

Yes.

You seemed a little too interested.

Am I the first to know you've tracked

Daniel Quarry?

Yes, you are.

Thank you for helping.

I did nothing.

Well, you found him too.

Yes, I suppose I did.

I can't

bear to leave the papers anymore.

Nasty work we're doing.

Bit of a head?

A bit.

Nice evening, though, wasn't it?

Yes, yes.

Do you feel better after a chat?

Yes.

Excuse me.

When I learned the truth about myself, I

had to try and trace you.

All I had to go on at first

was your maiden name.

Then the trail broke down until I thought

of going to all the wedding photographers to

find your married name.

Of course, my foster parents will always be

mum and dad to me, and you may

not wish to see me.

But I've wondered about you so often...

It's a miracle.

A miraculous coincidence.

What is?

That we were only talking about it yesterday.

Talking about what?

Robert, I have a confession.

It's something that happened years ago, before I

met you.

It was why it was so difficult for

me to have more children.

I have a daughter.