Delicious

One day he was my husband, the next he belonged to you.

How can anyone be allergic to water?

You don't eat!

All women think their husbands are cheating on them.

- How could you?! - Sam!

I love her. Help me sort this out.

No, I'm not going to help you, because you don't deserve me.

And you certainly don't deserve her.

Do you love her? - Yes. Very much so.

I'm going to sort this out.

Dad?

Where is he?

Offal.

Hearts and lungs and guts. Prime cuts and gristle.

And that's it.

I know every clove of garlic has a soul.

Even artichokes have hearts.

But me?

I'm not so sure.

My very own little meat fridge.

The light really does go out when you close the door.

They say death comes to us all.

But what they don't tell you is that nobody just leaves.

No. We all leave traces, echoes.

And trouble. Lots of trouble.

One lie can ruin a thousand truths

and the truth is, I loved Sam.

But Gina is never going to tell her.

She always had a flexible relationship with the truth

and if she didn't like it, she simply ignored it.

Believe me, it's one hell of a skill.

You have to tell her.

I just don't see how it's relevant.

If you don't want to do it face to face,

maybe you should just text her?

That's what the young people are doing now.

"By the way, your dead husband still loved you," smiley face.

You should try this.

- I'm not hungry. - You said that yesterday.

OK, I'm still not hungry.

I thought we were getting somewhere with this?

Where is somewhere? Morbid obesity?

Something. Somewhere is something.

I want you to eat something.

I'm not hungry.

My father has just died. I'm in mourning.

Bullshit.

How dare you.

How dare you say something like that to me!

That is shit, Teresa, and you know it!

You've been starving yourself like this for a year now.

It's not healthy and it's not right and it's not normal.

You are not normal!

At least I'm not a liar.

Right. Fine. You win.

OK, I'll take her a lasagne and I'll tell her.

Will that make you happy?

Nothing will ever make me happy.

But I still think you should tell Sam the truth.

Er, and here's your keys. You're in our bridal suite.

I think it's a lovely anniversary present.

- So romantic. - 40 years!

Does it seem like 40 years since we were last here, Jan?

Honestly? It feels longer.

Well, it's never too late for a second honeymoon.

Dan will show you to your room.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

Advice to the living.

Be careful what you leave behind,

because they're gonna see it.

I should never have written that damn letter.

It's right here. Exactly what he wants.

A funeral in the Sicilian tradition,

- and you're doing a eulogy. - What?

"Michael Vincent to give the formal address."

But an open coffin? Are we sure this is genuine?

He was raised in the Church of England

specifically to prevent any of this religious nonsense.

It's Leo's handwriting.

And the wake! It's more like a banquet.

Fegato di vitello alla Milanese? Porchetta Ariccia?

I don't see why I should have to do a eulogy!

Is that not what the vicar does?

The whole thing is ridiculous. And look how he addressed it.

"My darling wife".

Like he was hedging his bloody bets!

- Where are you going? - Out!

But we agreed that you would stay with Mimi.

- She's fine. - No, no, no, you said that...

Oh, let the boy go.

I'm quite capable of quietly dying of grief

while he masturbates to death in front of the Xbox.

See? Practically normal service.

Has he spoken to you?

- About any of this? - He seems fine.

That's what worries me.

He'll come to you when he's ready.

Morning, boss.

Made a real mess of that, didn't you?

Yeah, sorry about that.

So?

Erm... Yeah, I'm OK.

Sure you are.

They want me to do a speech... at his funeral.

Right. You shitting yourself?

No.

Er...yes.

Dad wanted me to do it.

Well, I guess that means you better do it.

What if I really, really don't want to?

That's the problem with becoming a man.

You've gotta do a lot of stuff you don't want to.

Putting down the toilet seat, eating salad, getting married.

How's your mum? Have you talked to her?

Sort of.

No, you should.

Listening. That's another one, by the way.

Ah, it's a funny thing, death. I mean, we've all got it coming,

but it always happens to someone else. Until it doesn't.

It's a consolo.

Everyone cooks for the grieving family.

- It's a Sicilian tradition. - Like blowing up judges?

It looks amazing. But we're fine. Honestly.

Well, everyone has to eat, especially at a time like this.

And obviously we've got to talk about a few things.

Did Leo mention anything to you?

About his funeral?

Not specifically.

I suspect he regarded himself

as above the inconvenience of actually dying.

It seems not.

He left this.

Porchetta Ariccia. Rognoni trifolati.

Ah... Well, you know what this is?

This menu is our history. Leo and me.

These are the dishes that made our name.

My family recipes. This menu is our marriage.

I think it's ridiculous!

But this is what he wanted, his last request.

Perhaps he should have thought about that

before he slept with his ex-wife.

So you're refusing to carry out his last wishes,

despite the fact they're here in black and white?

Leo will have a perfectly respectable funeral.

As his wife, it's my duty to see to that.

But that's all.

Can you believe she wanted to just ignore it?

- Well, obviously. - His dying wishes!

So you knew about this?

Dad had mentioned before he wanted the full Godfather?

Well, not specifically. But he was a passionate man.

He loved the tradition, the theatre...

The infidelity.

- So, how did the other bit go? - What other bit?

The whole "he wanted you back" business.

The reason you went there in the first place.

Oh, right, yeah, fine.

Yeah, she seemed really pleased.

Pleased?

Well, you know, not pleased. She...

Relieved. You know, better. You know what I mean.

I was wrong and you were right. It helped her a lot.

And you, dear? How are you coping?

- I'm fine. - That's what I thought.

You forget I've been through all this before.

When my George died, it was like an army on manoeuvres.

There's no time to think.

But...the moment comes, soon enough.

And when it does, you find me.

- Hi. - Hi.

It's weird, isn't it?

All this.

It's not just weird, it's fucking weird.

So, how's Gina?

Cooking.

I swear, if they dropped a bomb, she'd be stirring risotto.

How's yours?

Erm... I don't really know what she thinks.

She doesn't really talk to me.

Sounds like heaven. Do you want to swap?

You'd have to live with a mad woman,

but at least you won't go hungry.

Oh, God, I'm so sorry!

I just heard. Are you all right?

Er... Yeah. Yeah, I think so.

I'm so sorry.

Does this mean you're an orphan?

Er, well, I suppose so, yeah.

- How do you feel? - I feel alone.

You're not alone.

Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?

Bye.

Every man remembers the first time.

No, not that. The first time it doesn't work.

Dying is easy compared to that.

In fact...it's so fine,

it's almost better than if we had...you know...

Maybe we should just...like, talk?

I need to go.

A Sicilian funeral? Mm.