Secret Friends

I'll kill the little bitch.

How far...

Think how far this little wild flower has wandered, John.

How very far.

And through how many centuries.

Across what deserts, what scrub.

What emptiness of spirit.

John.

John.

Remember me?

John.

Remember me?

John...

I remember.

What have I done?

Oh, what have I done?

Stop it!

Stop it. Turn it off.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!

You bitch.

You filthy little...

bitch!

You like my body?

You want my body?

You want business?

Whatever else you may care to give me

is a personal transaction

between you and me.

Oh, save me.

Protect me.

Protect.

Oh, fish. Poor fish.

Tell me, please. What have I done?

Oh, what have I done?

John?

John?

No!

John, I'm sorry, but...

John, we have to talk.

You've been playing that music again.

John, we have to talk.

You've been playing that music loudly,

and you've no right to do that.

- Oh, for goodness' sake. - Loudly!

Loudly, as though the whole world were bedlam.

Press your painted finger on the "off" button.

- Do you hear? - I was only...

For Christ's sake, John. What's wrong with you?

Helen, what have we agreed?

You shouldn't thrust your way up into here without any warning.

- Look, I just want to... - My hand jerks. I lose the line!

I'm on the finest of silver hairs at this precise moment.

Well, I'm sorry, but...

First of all, you play that music so sodding loud

that I can't hear myself think.

And then you clamber your way up into here,

without the slightest warning, just when...

Just...

This is difficult work.

It is very fine!

It is very...

John, I'm sorry.

- Lady's Mantle! - What?

You've spoilt

my Lady's Mantle.

John, why do you speak in that way?

Do you know that...

Do you know what they used to use it for?

The simple country folk of...

oh, not so long ago?

John, we've got to talk.

Will you listen to me? Will you listen to yourself?

Things are getting out of proportion.

Do you know?

John, don't look at me like this.

Boobs.

What?

Tits.

A considerable asset in the profession you used to adorn.

No.

No, not that. Not again!

An infusion of the flower head was alleged to be a means of...

to be a means...

of restoring the upthrust of the female breast.

The bounce.

Or, as I would have once preferred to think of it,

in specific reference to you, Helen...

their joyous...

heartbreaking...

lift.

- Say it. - No!

Go on, say it!

- John, this is sick! - Please, please...

please...

Whatever else...

Whatever else you may care to give me...

is a personal transaction between you and me.

Please don't start this, John. You know it's a total fantasy.

It's got out of hand.

It's gone too far.

816...

It seemed miraculous to me

that not one of the uncountable numbers of men

who'd enjoyed themselves here on this, had spoilt it.

What have we done to ourselves?

And why?

Why?!

My love.

My poor little love.

My sweet... dream of a song.

I'm very sorry. Will you forgive?

I suppose you must have known very well

that someone was looking at you.

Through one of those peep-hole things in the door.

Sorry?

816. Room 816.

816?

We had an arrangement.

I looked at you, standing there.

And I lost my nerve.

I simply could not, not open the door.

Yes?

- Well, that's all very well, but... - You looked so much more beautiful.

And so much more vulnerable than I'd expected.

As though...

and this is my own indulgence.

But,

as though you had a secret little tune in your head,

and I think I know which one.

What?

Well, I looked, and I looked,

and I heard my heart beating

somewhere beneath the blue ribbons

of sound.

The saxophone under.

The music suddenly stopped.

Do you want me to come back to your room?

No, I do not.

Well, that's all very well, but an arrangement had been...

I'm not going to waste my time...

I don't want to let you down, of course.

Please don't worry about that.

- As in an old film. - What?

The old films.

Which old films?

- Any old film. - Sorry?

When the couple we love,

who make their entrance...

Paging Miss Fiona Marshall.

Telephone call at reception for Miss Fiona Marshall, thank you.

Leave me alone.

Keep your eyes off me.

Leave me alone.

Mmm.

- Are you here on...? - You are beautiful.

Thank you.

Are you here on a business trip, or is this a vacation?

Don't.

- What? - Please, no.

I don't want you to give me a standardly sweet smile

and a standardly innocuous first question.

Be yourself.

You have to give me fifty pounds for the agency.

And whatever else you may care to give me

is a personal transaction

between you and me.

There's no hurry, is there?

It takes time to find out about each other.

What do you mean?

I mean,

I don't see this ending right here and now.

Tonight, or tomorrow.

Or anything like that.

I have plans for you.

Sit still, John.

How many times have you passed by an unremarkable hedge

by the boundary of a perfectly ordinary field,

perhaps full of your everyday concerns,

your eyes scarcely able to see what is to be seen

in even the humblest corner of the Lord God's loving Creation.

Sit still, John.

How many times,

in the course of a day spent out in the fresh air,

whether in honest toil, or healthy exercise,

how often have you had occasion to see,

perhaps without a thought, the bright

yellow flowers of tanacetum vulgare ?

And what, I can hear you ask,

is that, when it is at home?

Tanacetum vulgare,