Trust

Ah.

Oh!

Come along, come along.

You think Dennis is a homosexual?

He's very fond of roses.

He's a gardener. Of course he's fond of roses.

Are you unwell, Pen?

No, no. Not at all.

Just... tired, possibly.

Of me?

Of course not.

We haven't been intimate for some time.

Business?

The children?

Affairs in London?

You seem to be making a lot of trips out.

No more than usual.

It's just sometimes very hard, Paul.

A woman of my standing to be in permanent competition.

With whom, my dear?

You know perfectly well, Paul.

It's not seemly, it's...

it's humiliating.

There is no competition.

Spending the night with a woman is easy.

And I do like sexual variety.

But with whom does one spend the day?

The long, long day.

Now that is the challenge.

And there is only one woman for me.

He certainly runs like a queer.

Oh, God.

Girls, come here.

Belinda, come here.

Help! Get off! -

Oh, no, look at that. Ow!

- - Oh, my.

Oh.

- - Hmm?

I know.

No.

Hmm?

Mamma mia...

How 'bout a cigarette?

Here.

So what? -

They'll ask questions,

they'll take photographs, they're journalists.

I'm hungry, it's hot. -

- Mom. Great. - You stay here.

It feels like we've been kidnapped.

Don't you...

Yes.

We have Paul.

Everybody says they have him.

You have to prove it.

No, but... but we have him.

You have to prove it.

Terrorists, crazy people, jokers,

they've all been ringing saying they have him. I need proof.

No, but I'm telling you.

What color are his eyes?

How many fillings does he have in his teeth?

He has a scar on his leg, where? If you have him,

then you'll know something that nobody else does.

Do you?

Well, do you?

No.

Hello?

Pronto?

What if that was the kidnappers?

Then they'll ring back.

Si.

Si.

To whom it may concern,

Thank you for your letter to John Paul Getty,

and for explaining your situation.

With regards to your request for money,

Mr. Getty is a businessman, not a charity.

He therefore regrets he is unable to help you now

or at any time in the future.

He wishes you luck in finding support elsewhere.

Bullimore.

For Paul.

Mr. Getty is not to be disturbed during breakfast.

Disturbed doesn't cut it, darling.

This little baby...

curdle his eggs.

11:00 p.m. in,

11:20 out.

Time out, 9:07,

time in, 10:38.

A lot of coming and going, Penelope.

What of it?

We do not entertain you as we did?

I have a life outside the Gulag, Paul.

And we don't?

I honestly have no idea.

Miss Robina insisted, sir.

My grandson has made contact.

Via an Italian newspaper, it seems.

- Is he all right? - He neglects to say.

Golly, is that a ransom demand?

I suppose it would be...

if he had really been kidnapped.

So, wh-what are you going to do?

What I do with all begging letters.

- Robina. -

He's off to write one of his

"unable to help now or at any time in the future" letters.

Oh, come on. For his own grandson? He wouldn't.

Well, yeah, he would.

Ugh. Is it just me or are those eggs off?

Wow.

I guess he missed the press conference.

- How much? - $17 million.

What?

Which is not much if you've been kidnapped.

A considerable amount if you haven't.

Got to admire him for trying.

Things we have to do to get in his bloody will.

No one's forcing you.

There's a whole wide world out there.

Of which you appear to be taking full advantage.

Hey, you have five minutes.

You just got to be patient, man.

If you're slow, they swim right into your hand.

Done it before in California.

So, California, huh?