White Heat

Someone said that death might end a life,

but for the survivor, the relationship struggles on,

seeking resolution it may never find.

I suppose we should have guessed that

the death of one of us would bring us back together,

but none of us are under any illusion that time heals.

Ms Pugh?

Ewan Fleming, Gibson and Parks, Solicitors.

It was they who raised the alarm. The police broke down the door,

bit of a make do and mend job, I'm afraid.

Once the post-mortem confirmed death as natural causes,

the police got in a company to disinfect the place.

As executor of the will, you'll need to settle the charge from the estate.

The chemicals, when they sanitised it.

Under the terms of the will, you and the other legatees

can dispose of any personal items as you choose.

Are they coming today, too?

Mmm.

Is it right you all lived together?

"Former flatmates", it says in the will.

We lost touch... over the years.

When probate is complete, the flat will be sold,

all debts discharged,

after which, the estate will be divided between you and the others.

Drop them off at your convenience.

How long was it, before they found the...

Two weeks.

Joy of city life, eh?

I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Thanks, bye.

Next six!

The old man bought the lease. Cheaper than shelling out on rent,

which makes me a landlord.

As a paid-up member of the "all property is theft" club,

the joke is on me.

A shared one, three guineas a week,

needs decorating and shit, like the others.

The other single, fiver a week. And the double is across the hall.

Which one are you again?

Charlotte Pugh.

I like.

I'm not about to lay a load of crap

about cleaning rotas on you,

just set out a kind of modus operandi about living here.

We have a chance to challenge the status quo,

prove there's an alternative socio-economic model to live by

other than the nuclear bloody family,

by sharing our labour, our energy, our resources. Like a commune?

Works for them in China.

Didn't they abolish landlords in China? Execute them?

Your name? Harper. Alan. Alan.

That's OK, thanks.

OK, see what I'm trying to say, Alan, is,

what's the point in social mobility

if we just carry the same tired old values around with us, you know?

So what we do is we construct a model of living based on equality,

based on the welfare of the group,

rather than the selfish needs of the individual.

Up to, and including, sex.

Aren't all relationships just another form of ownership?

What is he on about?

Eliminate the exclusivity of couples, you eliminate jealousy

and all the corrosive shit which goes with it, so we make a rule.

No sleeping with the same person, flatmates included,

on more than three consecutive nights.

What sort of godless set up are you running here?

I want no part of it, frankly.

Better out than in, as they say. Let's take a vote.

All those in favour of the godless set up, as outlined?

OK.

Great.

Message received.

Over and out.

I'll let you know. Send up the next lot, will you?

'Since his stroke, the silent vigil for Churchill's recovery continues

'as the whole country prays for him

'in this, his darkest hour.

'His defiant vow, "We shall never surrender"

'has never been more apt.'

Amen to that, eh?

The girl who owns the flat you saw,

is she at your college, too?

What does it matter?

If I was one of the chosen few I'd have heard by now.

Susan Reynolds from Girl Guides. She has a flat in Marble Arch.

Her mother says she's looking for someone to share with.

She's an air hostess now.

She'll be away half the time. You'd have the place to yourself.

Where's the fun in that, eh?

The point is to be near college for her studies, isn't it?

Doesn't preclude her having a bit of fun, does it? I didn't say it did.

Leave space for the crumble.

Mum's OK about this, isn't she?

If I do move out?

Nothing stays the same.

She has to face that, like the rest of us.

We only have one life, after all.

Hello. Hello.

'First US combat troupes deployed in Vietnam have...'

'All day long there's been a sort of pilgrimage to Sir Winston's house.

'Families have come in from the country, young couples...'

No, sorry, no, north, the signal comes from Alexandra Palace.

Damned thing isn't thickening.

That's it.

Everyone, this is Lilly. Lilly, everyone.

Hiya. Lilly's studying painting at... Where was it?

Hornsey College of Art.

I'm Jay. Hi. Hi, I'm Charlotte. Hi.

Come and get it.

You know what, I've just clocked it! I've just clocked it!

I've just clocked why he's chosen us.

Jack, why he's chosen us, in particular.

We're his guinea pigs!

His what? Exactly.

His socio-economic mix.

Think about it,

he's got the class thing covered, hasn't he?

Race, you know, and you.

He's got the professions covered...

computing, medicine, English, law,

art and...

Psychology.

Yeah, and that. So he's hand-picked every one of us,

to conduct his social experiment.

Well, I'm not sure anybody is quite that cynical.

Do you want to bet?

Cheers.

Jack?

Grubs up!

Hold it in, don't exhale.

It's crap what they say, how it's an escape from reality.

You know when you get the feeling life is utterly bloody futile?

You light up, it lifts you up.

Instead of looking into the abyss,

you're standing on the edge of the world.

You're invincible.

Feel anything yet?

How about this?

Is that part of your social experiment, too?

It's about being in the moment.

Seeing where it takes you.

It's quite a drop. Be careful.

Oh, I will be.

You know the way.

Lilly.

God, is it really 20 years? I don't believe it.

Anyone else here yet?

Uh, no.

I'm going to make a start in the kitchen,

so maybe you could do one of the bedrooms, upstairs?

Is that where it happened?

Mmm.

Charlie?

There's not been a day when I haven't regretted what I did to you.

Not a day.

Bloody hell! Wish we'd never started the damn thing!

It's supposed to be smooth like a mirror,

give an illusion of bloody space.

Right, I'll see you later! Good luck with it!

Bye, love. Bye.

Where do you reckon it is she goes every evening?

Library, she says. Maybe it's confession.

Do you know what her mother told her?

That periods are called the curse,

because it's God's curse on us for Eve eating the apple.

So much for your benign deity.

You been seeing anyone since coming to London?

You?

How about back home?

Only a few local lads, from school and that, you know.

No-one special.

So you didn't...

Do it with any of them?

Go the whole way?

The first time was my 16th birthday present to myself.

I couldn't wait to get it out the way, see what the fuss was about.

You?

A girl in my class at the high school.

In the middle of her O-levels, she suddenly drops out of school,

drops out of sight.

I had this Saturday job at the local supermarket, on the till.

There was always this endless queue of women with their kids,

stretching back as far as the eye could see.

They all looked so...

tired.

One day, I looked up, she was one of them.

Pushing a pram.

There but for the grace of a benign deity...

Still, all good things are worth waiting for, eh?

Then again, maybe I'll die chaste and virginal, like Orla.

It may not be worth the wait, love.

Trust me, it's just not the big deal everyone says it is.

Rent time, girls.

Oh, hold on, I left my bag downstairs.

Cheers.

Thank you.

Thing about your benign deity...

It works in mysterious ways.

Thanks.

Derivative, vacuous, pointless.