Love for Lydia

[ Returning from Lydia's father's funeral ]

Uh, uhh, uh.

[ Brakes squeal dog barks ]

Tea. - Huh?

Ohh, ahh.

Come here, Clutterhead.

Didn't you have something on, Clutterhead. Don't I seem to remember?

The Bazaar at four o'clock. The Chapel rebuilding fund.

Then for Jesus sake, get there!

It's only just three!

Three, two, four, eight, bloody midnight. What does it matter?

Be there! Never mind. Be there! Get there!

But they're all the same.

One bazaar is exactly the same as another.

Look at me, Clutterhead, will you?

For one moment.

Does it strain you?

- Tell me if the strain's too great for you.

Must be so interesting out of the window.

I was looking at the snow.

It started a few moments ago.

Tell me what you see, could you? Could you tell me what interests you?

It's Thursday afternoon!

Early closing day.

Well, it's always the same on a Thursday.

- Always the same? - Yes.

Nothing happened. Always the same?

No one in trouble?

No more thwarted lovers plunging five floors to their deaths?

No more headlines like that you might have missed again? No.

I suppose if there were you'd be falling about the place

on your skates and spraining your other wrist.

Is nothing going on out there?

There's no one out.

The only people I saw were the Aspen sisters.

They came back in the Daimler.

Take your hat.

- I don't wear it. - Put your hat on!

You will need your hat because it is polite

for a young man to wear a hat.

And you're gonna be polite to the two Miss Aspens.

- You're going to get a story from them.

- Perhaps they brought the girl back with them.

- Oh, there was a girl in the car, yes.

You saw her?

You saw that!

She's the niece.

- She's the one that's gonna come into the money.

Put your hat on and go out there now!

No!

Look, they've hardly arrived. They'll hardly be there, themselves.

For the good Jesus!

They will hardly be there themselves, but you will, you will, you will.

For once, you will!

- And you'd better make a better job of it than you have done so far.

Though, Jesus knows, that wouldn't be hard.

Yes sir.

And, don't forget the Bazaar!

No sir.

[ Gate latch clicks; squeeks shut ]

[ Daimler stops; opens closes doors ]

Welcome to Aspen Park, Miss Lydia.

Oh, leave her alone, now.

Go on, down dog. Down.

- Come along, dear. - Come along in, dear.

- D'Artagnan. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on.

Down now. Now don't get those boots.

- Oh, God, you couldn't throw those boots of yours?

We don't have time to do that. Sit!

Now, come on, boy.

Leave 'em be.

They'll get used to it.

Have to. Ha, ha, ha. Like the rest of us, I suppose.

Exactly.

I'm sure we all want you to feel at home.

Uh, ha, ha, ha. Go on dogs, go, go it, go.

[ At the bazaar; applause ]

- And in declaring it open let me express the pious hope

- that this Grand Bazaar will yield a grand harvest

for the cause we hold so dear.

It only remains for me to commend to you the, uh,

the excellent tea provided my Mrs. Wilpers and her bevy of handsome helpers.

And to hope that the adventurers-- the adventurous spirit--

will be tempted to try their luck, and, uh, huh, swell church funds,

at the tambola under the eagle eye of Councilor Roe.

- But, we are not here simply to enjoy ourselves

- or to see what we can win or take away,

[ Noisy, clumsy exit; slams door shut ]

- God, let us remember, helps those who help themselves.

If you sit in Mr. Elliott's room, your father, that is before he moved to Leicestershire,

I can't have been much more than your age when I came here,

but he always had a good word for us, I remember.

In fact I'd liked to have gone to the funeral.

Only, of course, it wasn't my place to say so.

Would you like me to unpack for you?

Then I'll leave you to get settled, then.

I hope you'll be very happy here.

I still say you ought to have gone up there this afternoon.

The Aspens have been at the big house for a few hundred years, my dear.

I dare say they'll still be there tomorrow.

It's not the Aspens I'm concerned about.

Sometimes I wonder whether you want to get anywhere in that job.

Me too.

There aren't that many firms that would put up with you

going off skating out there.

Never mind that you have to pick the afternoon when that poor girl

threw herself out of the window.

You heard about that?

You know, Bretherton.

The whole town's heard.

- I don't understand. You're being paid to do what you want to do, aren't you?

Commit local gossip to print.

- Oh, I see, we're too grand for Evansford, are we now? - No.

That's what it is, if you ask me.

Give him a chance. He's a bit of a dreamer and child.

I know that, but if someone doesn't push him

he's never going to make anything of himself.

[ Sound of someone blowing on a brass horn ]

I could rifle fancy to weapon.

They're German words and all.

You don't miss much, do you?

Well, you can't, can you?

- I mean, with those paper walls when the press is gone as well.

It's a wonder those pigeons of yours come home at all.

Well, I'll tell you one thing. They don't like snow.

- And I reckon we've got more to go.

Evening, Clem.

Arthur.

Coming to choir practice?

All right. I may as well.

What you mother's getting at, I think is,

well, what you want to do has to be paid for in working hours.

Home, job, I just don't to want to let my life in pigeonholes.

For most of us, you know, what we want and what we can have

are two different things.

What I am saying, there's earning and living

and there's,... well, expressing yourself.

D'you think I should get another job?

Why, it's not a good time to chop and change just now.

But if I could?

Maybe that way your writing could be like Clem Robinson's pigeons.

Or my choir!

Or Joe Pendleton's euphonium?

Hah.

Well, think about it, anyhow.

Ahh.

What was that?

- Come on, love. - Too high?

- I'll do myself some mischief up there.

- That's better. - That's right!

One, two, three, four...

Zoen, zoen, zoen, zoen. Zoen, zoen, zoooh.

A ship by herself in the north country

And she goes by the name of the Cope Atlantic Bee

I fear she'll be taken by a Spanish galley he

As she sails by the lowland low

As she sails by the lowland low

By the lowland low

As she sails by the lowland, lowland, lowland, low-ooh

Through the captain got up wake a little cabin boy

he said...

Wake up, Tim!

Ahem, sorry, frog in my throat.

- You'll have more than a frog in your throat

if you do that on the night.

All right, love, pick it up where we left off.

One, two, three...

Through the captain got up wake a little cabin boy

he said -------

[ Dog barks outside and Rollo mutters in the hallway ]

[ Wind howls and door slams ans dog barks ]

[ Door opens and closes]

Good morning.

None of that "Good morning." Where's your story?

Oh, you mean the bazaar.

Blast the bazaar! Have you been to see the Aspens?

Uh, well, as a matter of fact.

Yes or no.

Not just yet, no.

Why not?

Surgery. I had to go and see the doctor.

The doctor?

About my wrist.

Your wrist?

He said it should be all right.

Can you hear yourself?

I think so, yes.

You know what you're saying, do you?

- Well,... - Don't answer me back, Clutterhead.

You sprain your wrist when you've gone skating

in my time, in the paper's time without so much as a by-your-leave.

As a result of which you miss, you totally lose, the best

human interest story that's likely to come your way.

And now! What have I done to deserve it?