SQUEAKING
CHURCH BELLS RING IN DISTANCE
"My dearest David,
"a cold coming I had of it.
"Penelope drove me to the airport as if escorting some prisoner
"to the maximum security wing."
DOOR CLOSES
KEY TURNS
"No doubt I shall be allowed back eventually to resume
"my peaceable existence."
"But for the time being, I must serve out my exile
"in this decorous hotel,
"which now, at the very end of the season,
"exudes an air of deadly calm."
"I can't help thinking one ought to be at home
"at this slowly darkening time of the year.
"And so I would be,
"had I not committed that apparently dreadful crime."
"I got through tea by trying to deduce the biographies
"of my few fellow guests,
"although, of course, no-one here would fit into the sort
"of fiction I write."
Ah!
C'est a vous?
Merci!
Je vous en prie.
Pardon?
Je vous en prie!
Oh!
PIANIST CONTINUES PLAYING
"There's an ancient, veiled deaf lady, for example.
"I have her down as the widow of a Belgian confectioner."
Ah, there you are at last, my darling!
Yes, here I am.
"And there's a couple of English women -
"obviously mother and daughter, say late fifties and mid-twenties.
"Very grand and self-assured."
Hello!
Du te, s'il vous plait, pour ma fille.
Y quelque du votre joli gateau.
"And another very tall, rather beautiful English woman
"I've decided must almost certainly be a dancer."
Kiki, really!
"All women, of course.
"And you know, David, how infinitely I prefer the company of men."
Mmm-mmm!
Food fit for heroes.
Oh, David.
Never get anything like this at home.
"I suppose it must be time to get changed and brave the dining room.
"I know I'm still in disgrace
"and only starting to work off my probation.
"But already I miss you so much."
"All my love, Edith."
PIANO PLAYS JAUNTY TUNE
SHE BURPS
Have you thought of a title?
Beneath the Visiting Moon?
Yes, very good.
I like the theme of it.
So do the publishers, fortunately. I think this time, I should be able
to negotiate a considerably larger advance.
Although...
What?
It is beginning to change, you know, the romantic market.
Is it?
Yes, it's the cosmopolitan reader you have to think of now,
the girl with the executive briefcase.
She wants more sex, you know,
to reassure her that being liberated is fun.
She wants something to take on a business trip for those early nights in the hotel,
something that will reflect her lifestyle.
I've never met anybody with such a thing as a lifestyle, Harold.
What does it mean?
It implies that everything you own was bought at exactly the same time,
about five years ago, at the most.
Anyway, if she's that liberated, why doesn't she go down to the bar
and pick someone up?
Well... I'll tell you why.
It's because when it comes to the crunch,
she prefers the old myths.
She prefers to believe she's going to be discovered,
looking her best behind closed doors,
just when she thought all was lost, by a man who has battled
across continents, abandoning his in-tray,
solely in order to reclaim her.
You're the expert, my dear...
..when it comes to matters of the heart, I mean.
Are you sure that's what you meant to say, Harold?
Now, Edith, you know as well as I do a few weeks away
and everyone will have forgotten all about that unfortunate business.
My books aren't about love.
Well, only incidentally.
Their real subject is an even more potent myth.
You'll have to explain. What myth?
The tortoise and the hare.
You will have noticed, Harold, that in my stories, the unassuming mouse
always gets the hero, causing the sultry temptress to retire, baffled.
The tortoise, in other words, wins...
..when, actually, this is a lie.
It's the hare who wins every time -
in life, that is, not in fiction,
at least not in mine.
The facts of life are too terrible for my kind of fiction.
I'm glad you're back on form already. That's most reassuring.
Thank you for lunch, Harold.
Can I, erm, get you a taxi? No, I'll be all right.
Mummy said, "Would you like to join us for coffee in the salon?"
Oh, thank you.
This is very kind of you.
Not at all.
My name is Edith Hope.
And I'm Mrs Pusey.
How do you do? Iris Pusey.
And this is my daughter, Jennifer.
Do sit down.
I told Jennifer to ask you to join us.
I can't bear to see anyone on their own.
Oh, well, I'm... I said to Jennifer, "She has such sad eyes," I said.
Is this your first visit to the hotel?
It is, yes.
Oh, we've been coming here every year for I don't know how long,
haven't we, my darling?
We're absolutely devoted to Zurich.
Are you?
And my husband,
my late husband,
was good enough to open that little account for me there.
I see.
Oh, he was a wonderful, wonderful man.
He was so, so thoughtful.
Such an inspiration to us.
Don't. Yes, it's all right, darling.
It's all right.
Pour Edith some coffee.
He gave me everything anyone could possibly want.
"Here you are, Iris," he used to say.
"Here's a blank cheque.
"But don't just spend it on the house.
"Spend it on yourself."
But, of course, my beautiful home always came first.
Where do you live?
Oh, no, no, no, my dear, I'm talking about our first home
in Hazelmere - architect-designed, of course.
But I mustn't go on about it, because otherwise Jennifer
will be getting upset this time. Won't you, my darling?
You see, when my husband went to head office,
he was quite prepared to stay on at Green Tiles,
but I wouldn't have dreamt of allowing him to do
all that travelling.
So we found the most beautiful, big flat in St John's Wood.
Jennifer has her own self-contained suite,
and it's very convenient.
The shopping is excellent.
Of course, we have everything delivered.
LAUGHTER
Goodnight.
Oh, you're in the little room at the end, are you?
Yes. Oh, very nice. Mmm.
Of course, Monsieur Huber always gives us the same suite overlooking the lake.
Do come in and have a look. Thank you.
Very comfortable.
Yes, isn't it?
Now come and see my bedroom.
I have a weakness for nice things, I'm afraid.
And there's such a good shop in Zurich.
It's one of the reasons why we come back here every year.
And that's Jennifer's bedroom, of course.
Well, it's all... My dear,
you ought to buy yourself something pretty while you're here.
If you want to feel good, you've got to look good.
That's what I'm always telling Jennifer, aren't I, my darling?
Ah, she does love her silly, old mother, don't you, my pet?
Well, thank you very much.
Goodnight.
Well, you know where we are now, dear, don't you?
So there's no excuse for being alone.
BANGING
Thank you.
MAN LAUGHS
Bonjour, Madame.
Il fait froid, n'est ce pas? Ah, oui.
Il y a de la neige sur la montagne.
Comment vous appelez-vous?
Alain.
Je m'appelle Alain. Merci.
"My dearest David.
"Well, we almost all have names now,
"and I've been obliged to revise every one of my instant assessments.
"The Belgian confectioner's deaf widow
"turns out to be a countess...
"..and the dancer has also had to be upgraded
"since her husband, Sir John somebody,
"is apparently something frightfully important and dull in the EEC.
"Whereas my informants in these matters,
"a Mrs Pusey and her daughter,
"have conversely had to be adjusted downwards
"in everything but age,
"which I now feel I underestimated by as much as ten years."
Hello. Je vous en prie.
"So much for the novelist's famed powers of imagination.
"But then, I never was much good at human nature.
"I've always been able to make up characters.
"What I can't do is decipher them in real life."
I really think she might have let us know.
I mean, after all, we're very good customers.
We send her a Christmas card every year,
and now she simply vanishes.
Perhaps she's died.
Well, you can't rely on anybody these days,
not even in Switzerland.
I'm sure you'll be able to find someone else.
Oh, no, my dear.
When it comes to drawn thread work,
this little woman is simply incomparable.
And, as my husband always used to say,
only the best is good enough.
MAN CLEARS THROAT
Is this your notebook?
You mustn't lose it.
Thank you.
Are you a writer?
You know, it's been bothering me all day.
You remind me of someone.
Now, who is it?
Virginia Woolf?
You should know, Jennifer. Who could it be?
Well, people usually seem to think it's...
No, no, no, no, I know exactly who it is.
It's Princess Anne!
That's what... You're exactly like Princess Anne!
Well...
You seem to have an admirer.
I'm very sorry, but I really must go.
I'm not at all sure I could allow that. It's Sunday.
What possible excuse can you make?
I have to go back to the rooms.
Excuse me.
What rooms?
You know Edith, of course, she writes.
I often think if I put my mind to it,
I can be just as good.
After all, I lead a much fuller life.
I'm always surprised she never uses me in any of her books.
I do.
It's just she's never noticed.
But what are these rooms?
A five-storey warehouse in Chilton Street.
I'm an auctioneer.
Where do you live?
That one's mine, there.
David Simmonds - rather a pet, isn't he?
Runs an auction house.
Of course, he's always had rather a soft spot for me.
How do you know him?
I was at school with his wife, Priscilla.
Oh! You know, Priscilla - tall, fair, very good-looking.
You must have met her here often.
I do worry about you, Edith, you know,
mooning about on your own.
Why wouldn't you go out to dinner with Peter when he asked you?
I'm not much company when I'm in the middle of a book.
He's quite good value, you know.
One of my nicer cast-offs.
I'm sure.
No, you're probably right.
He's really rather a dreary little man.
Now I'm going to have to turn you out, I'm afraid.
Richard will be back any minute.
He's just dumping his wife off somewhere.
Thank you, Penelope.
That's quite all right, darling.
I knew you'd come.
"I've always understood the rules.
"No-one to be hurt.
"No mention of lonely evenings or empty Sundays,
"or holidays cancelled at the last minute.
"All very rational and sensible.
"You can't imagine how much I longed to see you again."
CHATTERING
I say!
I don't want that man around me any more.
Would you mind awfully coming and sitting with me?
Monica.
Edith.
Not with El Mafiosi today, then?
I didn't feel quite up to her this early in the morning.
I can't stand the sight of her myself.
Of course, Sunday is the one day they can't swan around
buying knickers.
Oh, I do beg your pardon.
Lingerie.
Not that I put it past her to bang up some wretched little shopkeeper
on a Sunday simply because she happened to have a spare few thousand francs.
They do seem to do a great deal of shopping.
Well, they're loaded.
Trade, of course.
Daddy was a sherry importer.
Not that the old girl would touch the stuff.
She prefers champagne.
Who doesn't?
How long have you been here?
Ages. I'm here for my health.
I'm sorry.
Have you been ill?
No.
LOUD ELECTRIC GUITAR MUSIC PLAYS
That's her son, poor old trout.
He comes once a month to take her out for the day.
He still lives in her beautiful old house across the lake.
But when he married that tart,
who used to be a hairdresser...
..he turfed her out.
How do you know all this?
She told me. She's deaf as a post as well.
What a life.
No, thank you.
I'm not allowed to, of course.
Still...
..what the hell?
What about a stroll into town?
There's something soothing about Mrs Pusey's simple greed.
She's quite obviously having a good time.
Jennifer's the one I can't make out.
Jennifer, I assure you, is entirely straightforward.
FRENCH DIALOGUE ON RADIO
What's wrong with your health?
If you don't mind my asking.
I have an eating problem.
What sort of problem?
Well, basically, except for this sort of stuff,
I can't stand food.
Oh, I see.
Which is fine.
Or...would be if it hadn't caused my tubes to pack up
for some unknown reason.
And John is desperate for an heir.
I can't think why he's quite so fanatical about it.
The family's just a lot of jumped up ironmongers, if the truth be told.
But...
..he says, if I can't get myself organised,
he's going to give me the boot.
I'm sorry.
The worst of it is...
..I'd love to have a baby.
Hadn't we better be getting back?
It's nearly lunchtime.
I can't stand that dining room.
I'm sick of that awful fish.
And they've been told to spy on me.
That's why I have to take Kiki in with me.
Where is Kiki today?
Oh, he misbehaved himself again.
They made me lock him in the bathroom.
Bloody Swiss.
They hate dogs.
So aren't you coming for lunch?
I need another piece of cake.
But you will spend some time with me, won't you?
I feel safe with you.
So do most people, I'm afraid.
Voila, c'est bien comme ca. Oui, merci, Alain.
Ah, there you are!
Where have you been all day?
I went into town to look around.
Well, come and join us. Oh, thank you.
Good afternoon, ladies.
I thought you might like a look at the papers.
Ah, that's very kind of you, Mr Neville.
I'm sure the others would be delighted, but I'd just as soon not.
I find them so depressing.
The world is so ugly.
I know I'm old-fashioned, but I prefer to stick to my book.
The Sun at Midnight by Vanessa Wilde.
Not an author known to me, I regret to say.
Most enjoyable.
I'm afraid this isn't one of her best.
Oh, really?
Truffle?
Perhaps you'd care to go for a walk later.
I think this may be the last good day we'll get.
Well...
No, no, dear, you go.
Go.
Well, now, Mrs Woolf, I don't believe we've been properly introduced.
My name is Philip Neville.
And you, I gather, are Miss Hope.
That's right. Or may I call you Vanessa Wilde?
Well, that's a distinct improvement on your usual expression.
I wasn't aware that anyone was interested in my expression.
Oh, yes.
I should say that you were rather bored.
ROCK MUSIC PLAYS
Do you know those hills over there to the south?
No.
There's some very good restaurants.
I'll telephone you, if I may.
By all means.
SHE SOBS
"However beautiful the sunset on the lake,
"Clara found herself unable to respond properly to its splendour.
"A prey as she was to oppressive and melancholy thoughts...
"..was there nothing to be done for the old lady?
"And was Nigel to be trusted?"
WOMAN SCREAMS
CRYING
Hey, up.
The biggest spider you've ever seen.
All gone.
Oh, thank you so much.
She's been terrified of spiders ever since she was tiny.
Well, if everyone's all right...
..I think I'll say goodnight.
Everyone's perfectly all right.
DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES
LAUGHTER
WOMAN LAUGHS
I'm so pleased we managed to tempt you away from your desk.
Oh, that's very sweet of you. You shouldn't have.
They're from the garden.
MAN LAUGHS LOUDLY
I don't know if you know David Simmonds.
Yes.
Yes, we have met at Penelope Milne's, wasn't it?
That's right. And this is his wife, Priscilla.
How do you do? Hello.
And our old friend Geoffrey Long.
How do you do?
James.
Thank you.
Well, I have a cottage in Oxfordshire,
but I'm afraid I take no interest whatsoever in the garden.
There's an old boy in a flat cap. I leave all the decisions up to him.
I have help even with my little patch.
But I love my garden.
Of course, what we really like is Crete or North Africa.
But it's too hot for the children. They get frightfully ratty.
What she means is it'll be France again.
Very nice.
For some reason, there's nothing like a holiday
to produce a really good row.
We can't even agree whether to take her car or mine, can't we?
Will you excuse me?
I'm afraid I really have to be getting back.
Oh, but it's still quite early.
I have something I rather want to finish.
Burning the midnight oil, are you? Poor Edith.
But they're such lovely books, dear. And we're all such fans.
May I offer you a lift?
I've greatly enjoyed this evening.
It's one of the first times I've been out since my mother died.
I'm sorry.
Yes.
I miss her a great deal.
You lived with her, did you?
She hadn't been well for some time.
She needed quite a bit of looking after.
One doesn't often hear of such devotion.
Most men I know aren't capable of denying themselves anything.
SWISS YODEL MUSIC PLAYS
All right.
Who comes here?
People like us.
Why don't you tell me about it?
No, it's too nice a day for all that.
And I'm having such a good time.
Are you here to finish off a book?
That's right.
Why on earth are you here?
Why shouldn't I be here?
Well, that hotel hardly seems the place for you.
I'm rather fond of it.
I came here once with my wife,
as I was at this conference in Zurich...
What about? Electronics.
I have quite a sizeable electronics firm near Marlborough,
which is doing surprisingly well.
And your wife didn't come with you this time?
No.
She left me three years ago.
Ran away with a man ten years her junior,
with whom she remains, despite all predictions,
radiantly happy.
How marvellous!
Oh, I'm sorry.
Do you often think about being happy?
All the time.
It's a mistake, if I may say so. I dare say you're in love.
No, you mustn't confuse happiness with one particular person.
Since I stopped doing that,
I discovered the secret of contentment.
You better tell me what it is.
Well, it's simple, really.
Avoid huge, emotional investments and you can do what you like.
If you're prepared to do the one thing that's drilled out of you
from early childhood, which is to say please yourself,
there's no reason why you should ever be unhappy again.
Or entirely happy either.
You're a romantic, Edith.
Erm...
May I call you Edith?
Miss Hope seems unduly melancholy.
Yes, but why do you call me a romantic
just because I don't see things the way you do?
No, it's because you're misled by what you want to believe.
I mean, surely you must know however much two people profess to love one another...
..there's no such thing as complete harmony.
Yes.
Well, then, use that knowledge.
You've no idea how promising the world begins to look
once you've decided to have it all to yourself.
But suppose you prefer to share your life.
Nay!
Much better to live it.
You'd be surprised how many friends it'll make you.
People feel at home with low moral standards.
It's scruples that make them uneasy.
There's some flaw in your reasoning...
..but I'm not sure I'm all that interested in finding out what it is.
This life you advocate with its low moral standards,
you really recommend it?
For others, I mean?
What you mean is, do I tolerate low moral standards in others? Mmm.
At least I've come to understand them.
You're wrong to think you cannot live without love, Edith.
No, I cannot live without it.
By which I mean I cannot live well without it.
I can't think or speak or write or even dream
with any kind of energy.
I implode.
My idea of absolute happiness is to sit in a hot garden all day,
reading or writing, safe in the knowledge that the person I love
will come home to me in the evening, every evening.
Then you ARE a romantic.
No. I'm a domestic animal.
I don't want extravagant displays of passion.
What I crave is the simplicity of routine -
an evening walk, a game of cards, preparing a meal together.
Putting the cat out.
I'm glad you find this so amusing.
Clearly you order things better in Swindon or wherever it is you...
That's more like it.
I'm sorry.
You're obviously a good woman.
Why do you say that?
Good women always think it's their fault
when somebody else is being offensive.
Bad women never take the blame for anything.
Let me tell you what you need, Edith.
I thought I told you.
I know you think you've just told me, but you're mistaken.
You don't need more love.
You need less.
It's love which has brought you to the Hotel du Lac out of season
to sit with those women and talk about clothes.
Is that what you want?
No.
So it's not love you need.
It's marriage.
Yes, I know.
When you're married, you can behave as badly as everybody else.
You'd be much more popular.
You'll never have to wait by the telephone again.
I'm sorry.
You're an excellent woman, and I offended you.
Please forgive me.
You're a sadist. So my wife always told me.
I don't know why you should assume my capacity for bad behaviour
is never used.
Well, if it were, you would hardly be moving around in that cardigan.
I hate you!
You're coming along very well.
I find that smile of yours just the faintest bit unamiable.
When you get to know me better,
you'll realise just how unamiable it really is.
SOFT PIANO TUNE
"I was wearing the green dress you've always disliked,
"safe in the knowledge that you would not be here to dislike it."
"It soon became clear that something was afoot,
"but nobody was in the least prepared
"for the scale of the entertainment."
MRS PUSEY LAUGHS
WHISPERS: Edith!
C'est magnifique. Merci, Monsieur Hubert.
Quelques fleurs.
Je suis assez amuse.
C'est vrai.
Bonsoir.
Surprise, Mummy!
Happy birthday.
Oh, I can't open it!
Oh, it's beautiful!
Oh, champagne, pour tout le monde.
Oui!
Darling.
Thank you.
They're toasting you.
Ah, thank you.
"It was Mrs Pusey's birthday,
"at which her cake, though vast, offered no clue."
# Joyeux anniversaire
# Happy birthday to you
# Happy birthday, dear Mummy
# Joyeux anniversaire Happy birthday to you! #
PIANO MUSIC: HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Oh, cheers, Mummy!
"Afterwards, in deference to the occasion,
"all the guests took coffee together in a special room
"set aside for the purpose."
You know what I mean. I remember... Mmm?
A grand merci
pour votre charmante
petite fete.
Vraiment, Madame.
Vous ne prenez pas encore une verre?
Et votre bi de gallant
Alors, que c'est que on fait dire?
Bonne nuit, Madame. Bonsoir. Bonsoir.
"Madame de Bonneuil left early, having borne it all very nobly."
Poor old soul.
"And Mr Neville, conversely, arrived late."
Ah, Philip!
"But we were a full and appreciative complement."
It's your birthday, I understand.
Yes! Now, where have you been, you naughty man?
You missed the most magnificent cake.
A birthday cake? Well, not exactly. There weren't any candles on it.
Oh, I think there's a certain stage where one can dispense with candles.
Yes, but what stage?
40?
60?
You don't look old enough to be 60.
I think one's as old as one feels.
You know, sometimes I feel as if I was still a little girl.
Not when you see Jennifer, I imagine.
Of course she doesn't look 60.
I'm sure she has a good many birthdays to look forward to
before reaching that particular milestone.
Oh, now, Phillip, there's no need for flattery.
Flattery?
I'm sure if the truth be known, you're probably younger than I am.
Oh!
I'm afraid not.
If you must know...
..I'm 79.
Can't be true.
You're pulling our leg.
I'm afraid not.
I mean, it is, it is... It's quite remarkable.
I didn't intend to be such an aged parent.
I mean, that's why we bought that lovely home in Hazelmere.
The moment we saw it, we said...
.."Just right for children."
Couldn't you have any? No.
However hard we tried.
We've got the same problem.
Well, it's just patience, my dear.
Patience and a little perseverance.
You see, John thinks...
And the result was certainly well worth waiting for.
My husband always wanted a little girl,
and she kept him waiting such a long time.
He couldn't help spoiling her, could he, my darling?
SHE LAUGHS
That film of you on Twiglet.
That was her pony.
He used to watch it over and over again.
Couldn't bear to see her in tears.
"Here you are, Iris," he used to say.
"Here's a blank cheque. Now, buy her something nice."
And I don't think she's any the worse for a bit of spoiling.
Are you, my darling?
That was the reason why he wouldn't go to London. Well, I had...
"At a certain stage, David, the evening started to go wrong.
"A feeling of desolation began to spread.
"And I wanted you very much.
"But you weren't there.
"Perhaps it was simply that the whole occasion put me in mind
"of my own most recent celebration."
RADIO PLAYS
Playing all over London in 1548 kilohertz and 95.8 FM in stereo...
MUSIC PLAYS
I hope you've had your bath.
Why? Why?
Because it's ten o'clock, that's why.
And the car's coming at 11.30, isn't it?
Yes.
I know you're in a dream half the time
making up those stories of yours.
But I'd have thought today of all days... Well...
Off you go, then.
I'll look after the caterers.
Remember you haven't got all day.
MUSIC BEATS IN DISTANCE
I have something for you.
It was my mother's.
I know she would have wanted you to have it.
I don't believe in giving people a lot of food myself.
Where are the asparagus tips?
Jolly nice. Now, would you mind giving us a bit of elbow room?
We've got another do in Tregunter Road in half an hour.
Look here.
I brought you this in for the cake.
Hasn't been used since our wedding.
SIREN WAILS
MUSIC PLAYS: Symphony No 5 by Beethoven
Would you take me on a little further, please?
I've changed my mind.
CHATTERING
I'm sorry, Jeffrey.
I have nothing to say to you, Edith.
You have made me a laughing stock!
I think you'll find it's I who am the laughing stock.
I'm only grateful poor Mother didn't live to see this.
Goodbye, Jeffrey.
I can't think what's happened to Edith.
I'm afraid she must have been taken ill.
No, I'm quite all right.
Thank you for looking after everyone, Penelope.
When they leave, perhaps you might ask them
to take their presents away.
And if anyone wants me, I'll be in the garden with my agent.
Well!
My dear.
Is there anything I can do?
No, no, I'm fine.
Not drowning, but waving.
Well!
What've you been up to?
I couldn't go through with it.
I can't say I'm sorry.
Drink?
Oh, I don't think so. Oh, do.
I wasn't sure you were in.
As you can see, there's plenty of it.
Have you been sitting in the dark?
I couldn't help feeling that changing my name from Hope to Long
was not a step in the right direction.
Bit of a last-minute decision, wasn't it?
I mean, can't have gone down too well.
No, my cleaning lady gave in her notice
and Penelope insists I flee the country.
Really?
I think perhaps she's right.
Maybe I will go away for a while.
In fact, that was probably my mistake.
I didn't want to get married, I just needed a holiday.
I didn't think I was ever going to see you again.
No.
I mean, just for a moment, I really did think...
..you were in love.
Well, I... Come on, let's go upstairs.
Cela ne devrait pas arriver dans cet hotel.
MONSIEUR HUBER SHOUTS
Je n'ai rien fait, monsieur. Je n'ai rien fait, monsieur!
Madame, dites-leur. Je n'ai rien fait, madame.
Would somebody tell me what's happened?
Oh, Edith, how good of you to come.
What's the matter, Mrs Pusey?
Are you ill? No, I'm all right. It's Jennifer.
Oh, will you go to her, please?
Are you all right? Yes.
What's going on?
Nothing. Is there anything I can do for you?
Wouldn't mind some more coffee.
Coffee?
Yes.
Sure you don't need a doctor or anything?
Good God, no.
Just look after Mummy for me, would you?
Mademoiselle voudrai encore du cafe, s'il vous plait.
Du cafe, mais oui.
Certainement, oui, bien sur.
Je vais l'arranger moi-meme.
What's going on?
Why was Monsieur Hubert shaking poor Alain?
Poor Alain?! I like that.
What happened?
Well, I couldn't sleep. I didn't get off until about dawn.
And then all of a sudden, I woke up and I heard a noise
in Jennifer's room, a door. I was absolutely terrified.
Well, she seems quite all right.
Yes, thank heavens. It was that dreadful boy.
Who knows what he might not have done if... If I had...
I'm sure there's been some misunderstanding.
I never trusted him.
His eyes are too small.
VOICES SPEAK OUTSIDE ROOM
Are you sure he wasn't just taking in Jennifer's breakfast?
He'll have to go, of course.
I'll speak to Monsieur Hubert about him.
Well, if you're all right, I'll...
Oh, yes, dear, you go, you go. I know what a walker you are.
Well...
Any plans for today?
Do me a favour, Edith. I never have any plans.
I should have thought that was fairly obvious by now.
Aren't you supposed to be a writer?
And aren't writers supposed to be good at observing human nature?
I only ask because you sometimes strike me as being a bit thick.
I'm sorry.
Anyway...
..I gather our Mr Neville's taken quite a shine to you.
We just went for a walk.
I heard you were having lunch with him again tomorrow.
I reckon if you played your cards right, you could have him.
I gather he's worth quite a bit.
Is he? Trade, of course.
Monica!
I'm not after Mr Neville or his money.
I earn my own money.
Money is what you earn when you grow up.
I hate this idea of women prospecting for someone with money.
Can't see what's wrong with it.
It's part of a conspiracy among women who think they have
some divine right to all the treats and privileges they can wheedle,
who behave as badly as the Puseys this morning, who feel somehow
they're entitled to make illogical fusses.
I think they're dishonourable.
I'm very probably a better target for the feminists than men.
Way above my head, I'm afraid.
Now, then.
Look what I've got.
Baby.
Come on. Come on.
A wonder that dog isn't enormous. He sicks most of it up.
Anyway, I didn't say you were after him.
Why shouldn't he be after you?
You're not bad-looking.
Your clothes are terrible, if you don't mind my saying so.
Monica...I am not in love with Mr Neville.
Who said anything about love?
STEAMER HORN BLASTS
Now what?
Nothing.
I was just thinking how little vice there is around these days.
You're shivering.
You should get rid of that cardigan.
Whoever told you you look like Virginia Woolf
did you a grave disservice.
As to vice, there's plenty around if you know where to look.
Obviously, I don't.
I certainly never find any. You don't try hard enough.
Anyway, didn't we say we were going to change all that?
If all it involves is giving away my cardigan,
I feel I should tell you I have another one at home.
I suppose I could give that away as well,
but I feel I'm too spiritless for radical gestures.
I'm just not fascinating.
No.
One sees that.
Oh, come on, let's stroll around the deck.
After all, this is a pleasure steamer.
I'm sorry I was so gloomy on the boat.
I lost my bearings.
I had the feeling we might not be allowed back.
Is there so much to go back to?
Oh.
I'm sorry. Please forgive me.
You may not be a fascinating woman, Edith, but you certainly know
how to make a man uncomfortable. Am I to take that as a compliment?
Now, that's the sort of remark I associate with a lesser woman.
You're unsettling. Why can't you just leave it at that?
Why do you have to dimple and bridle like some ingenue?
"Am I to take that as a compliment?"
All right, but I'm not here to pass tests, you know.
I'm supposed to be enjoying myself.
You'll find one does not preclude the other.
I suggest you allow me to order for you.
Would you like me to describe your life in London?
It's not very difficult.
I'm a householder, a ratepayer, a good plain cook,
a deliverer of type scripts well before the deadline.
Oh, I sign anything that's put in front of me,
and I make no claims for my particular kind of writing,
although I understand it's doing quite well.
Yes, that's your persona. What I have in mind is your life.
Go on, then.
Let me see.
You have quite a comfortable income.
You go to drinks parties and dinner parties
and publisher's parties.
But you don't enjoy yourself. You come home alone.
You're fussy about your house.
You've had lovers, but not half as many as your friends have had.
They, of course, credit you with none at all
and worry about you rather ostentatiously.
And yet, Edith...
..you do have a secret life.
Don't you?
I think...
..you should marry me, Edith.
I'm a very discriminating man.
I have a small estate and a very fine house, Regency Gothic,
and a rather well-known collection of famille rose dishes.
I'm sure you love beautiful things.
You're wrong.
I don't love things at all.
I'm awake quite often
and I dislike having to come back to a house
occupied solely by the couple who run it.
You'll fit perfectly into that setting.
You make it sound like a job application,
and I haven't applied for the job.
My wife's adventure made a laughing stock of me.
Now I need a wife I can trust.
Things haven't been easy for me.
And you're not making it easy for me.
I'm making it easier.
I've watched you at the hotel trying to talk to those women and...
..when you think you're alone, your expression is full of sorrow.
You think I'm a hopeless case?
You're a lady, Edith, it's rather out of fashion these days.
You'll do very well as my wife.
Unmarried, I'm afraid you'll soon look...
..a bit of a fool.
And what will I do in your fine house when you're away?
Whatever you do now.
Write.
You might even find you write rather better than you thought you could.
Edith Neville - it's a good name for an author.
You'll do me credit.
You see, you're not the sort of hysterical woman men are afraid of,
carrying on as though they're a constant operator of scandal
or desire, boasting about their conquests and their performance,
who think they can do what they like
as long as they keep their friends entertained.
Most women are afraid of that sort of woman.
No, most women ARE that sort of woman.
I always thought men preferred them.
Well, in a sense, they feel they're missing out
if they get anything that's less than tricky or fantastic,
and they like the danger, but it's so tiring.
You get no work done.
I see.
You're paying me the compliment of assuming
no-one else will ever want me.
I'm paying you the compliment of believing you will never shame me
or ridicule me or hurt my feelings.
But I thought the other day you were preaching a doctrine
of pure selfishness.
Well, I'm not asking you to lose all for love.
What I'm proposing is an enlightened partnership.
I mean, if you wanted to take a lover, that would be your concern.
And you? Well, naturally, the same thing would apply.
In my case, it would always be a trivial matter,
you wouldn't hear of it.
Shared interests, companionship.
These are the important things as far as I'm concerned.
Aren't you tired of being polite to rude people?
Naturally, you'll be able to entertain your friends.
And you'll find, by the way, that they'll treat you quite differently.
You'll be able to behave as badly as you like,
and you'll be respected for it.
And at last, people will start to feel comfortable with you.
You're lonely, Edith.
It's getting cold.
Shall we go?
Please don't cry, Edith. I can't bear to see a woman cry.
Makes me want to hit her.
EDITH WEEPS
HE SIGHS EXASPERATEDLY
You're very thin.
Afraid I might break you in half.
SHE SNIFFS
So...
I'm to be airlifted out of my present life
in order to ensure that your feelings are never hurt again?
Our feelings.
I don't love you.
Very reassuring.
And you don't love me.
No.
But...
..you've got under my guard.
You've moved me and touched me in a way I no longer care
to be moved and touched.
Not to worry, though, I'm sure it won't last.
I may have to think about this.
Well, I don't intend to make a habit of proposing to you,
so I suggest you get your skates on if we want to leave this weekend.
I suppose they'll be coming to cart her off to her winter quarter soon.
Some dingy hotel room in Lausanne.
Will you be going back soon? Tomorrow.
Mission, a total failure.
By this time next year, they'll have pensioned me off. Surely not?
How was your day?
I don't know.
I haven't decided.
SHE SIGHS
Of course, I hate travelling.
And you've done so much.
It's my husband's fault.
Silly man couldn't bear to go anywhere without me.
Well, you get used to it.
Couldn't do it without Jennifer, though.
When will you leave?
At the end of next week, if they'll have us.
I was thinking that... Oh, Philip, there you are!
What have you been doing?
Well, I had some calls to make.
Business, I suppose. Well, my husband did the same thing.
There are always arrangements to be made.
Arrangements?
You're not leaving us, are you?
Jennifer, do you hear that?
The day after tomorrow.
Oh.
Oh, dear. Oh, dear.
And you've been out all day.
If you'll excuse me.
Yes, of course, my dear.
Goodnight.
Please don't get up.
"My dearest David.
"This is the last letter I shall ever write to you
"and the first I shall ever post.
"I'm going to marry Philip Neville, a man I met here,
"and I do not think that I shall ever see you again.
"For perhaps the first time in my life,
"I've begun to feel like an adult with an adult seriousness.
"I do not love Mr Neville, nor does he love me.
"But at least we are without illusions.
"You, I believe, always assumed I was doing the same thing
"with the same degree of selfishness as you were.
"I lived for you.
"Yet, how often did I see you?
"Twice a month?
"Sometimes a whole month without you.
"And I would imagine you with your wife and children.
"Or worse, with somebody new,
"some girl you'd met at a party, perhaps,
"as once you met me.
"You were the breath of life to me.
"But I can't see now how I could ever return to what I was before...
"..or what I thought I was.
"I shall try to be a good wife to him.
"One does not receive proposals of marriage every day
"in this enlightened age,
"although I have had two this year and seem to have accepted them both.
"No doubt as a result of what I have begun to understand about us.
"I know you always thought I wrote my stories
"with a mechanical and detached cynicism.
"You were wrong.
"I believed every word of them.
"I still do.
"You've known my address for the past two weeks,
"but I haven't heard from you.
"Therefore, there seems no point in telling you where I shall be living.
"I don't know how to end this letter.
"I feel sure we shall never meet again.
"So, all my love.
"Always."
DOOR LATCH CLICKS
THEY BOTH LAUGH
Sh!
Jennifer.
HE LAUGHS
Hello.
Hope.
I'd like you to get me a ticket on the next flight to London.
And I'd also like to send a telegram...
..to David Simmonds...
..Chilton Street,
London, W1.
And the message is, "Coming home."
No, sorry, that's wrong.
Just put...
.."Returning."