Thank you, Ben.
Tell your mother she's an angel,
cooking for all us oldies.
When's the driving test?
-This afternoon.
You got a girlfriend yet?
Oh, no, no.
Not yet, no.
Don't forget.
Hand brake, mirror and turn.
My name is Roger, and I'm your
driving examiner for today.
I'd like you to approach
the next roundabout and
take the first exit.
No, that was the first exit,
please. You're still going round.
In a moment, I'm going to
strike the dashboard.
When I do, I'd like you to
make an emergency stop.
Emergency stop, please.
Stop the car.
Stop!
Never mind, darling.
I crashed the car.
Well, you were nervous.
Mum, do you think I should have some
proper lessons with a teacher?
I've been driving for 25 years.
You just need more practice.
Seat belt, please.
Oh, come to my heart,
Lord Jesus
There is room
in my heart for Thee
Just fill me
with your presence Lord
I want you to be
Redeemed
Good!
Bye, Sarah.
-Bye, Peter.
Bye. See you next Sunday.
-Bye, guys. See you on Sunday.
See you, Peter.
I know a lot of
the guys teaching Religious
Education at Coventry.
It's a hell of
a competitive course now,
very new science,
philosophy, culture.
Very rounded, very sexy.
Lovely.
Obviously I can't take Ben's exams
for him, but I can...
I can definitely recommend him.
Thank you, Peter.
Isn't that wonderful, Ben?
Thanks.
Ben really knows his Bible.
It's just the academics
he struggles with.
Maths was always my problem.
Ben and maths.
Don't even talk about it.
Peter was just telling
us about his thoughts
for an International Day,
with all the different
parish faiths swapping ideas.
I thought it sounded wonderful.
I'm not sure
Finchley Central's quite ready
for Peter's particular bra
of evangelism.
No need to be sarcastic, Robert.
At least he's trying.
May I offer you some more,
Mr. Finley?
How is your room, Mr. Fincham?
Did you manage any sleep
this afternoon?
Ben took his driving test today.
He did very well.
Just a few things to iron out.
Of course, now we've got
the summer holidays ahead of us,
we can spend even
more time in the car.
There you are.
How's my grown-up boy?
Your father and I
have been talking.
Now that Mr. Fincham's
staying with us,
it might be thoughtful if we all
contributed a little money
towards getting
him back on his feet.
What do you think?
Who is Mr. Fincham?
Mr. Fincham came to me
asking for shelter.
He'd heard that I
like to help people.
But how long
is he staying for?
Darling,
he ran over his own wife.
He must take
as long as he needs.
I thought if you
got a summer job,
you might put some of the money
towards helping Mr. Fincham.
Ask yourselves this question.
How is a person truly free
until they can think
and act for themselves?
God gave us free will
so that we could choose his love.
You see, he wanted us
to understand our commitment,
to be grown-up about it.
If you say to me,
"Am I a Christian?"
I say to you,
"If you strive to do good,
then you're a Christian. "
Hand brake, mirror, turn.
If you don't seek to
hurt or betray others,
you're a Christian.
If you're true to
yourself and treat others
as you'd have them treat you,
you're a Christian.
The more a person
parades their Christianity
for the benefit of others,
the less I'm inclined to trust
the Christianity
they claim to bring.
God tells us
true faith is
the freedom to choose truth.
Now, how you express that,
the way, the manner,
the means at your disposal,
these things are of no consequence,
be you Christian or atheist,
unless in your heart
you are true.
Hello?
Fuck you, you little fuckers!
Jesus... fucking Christ!
Come on! You utterly
cunting bastards, cut!
How are you?
You're Ben.
Found the house all right?
Marvelous. Shall we stroll?
Now, then, we talked
on the telephone? -Yes.
What did I say?
You said you needed some help
round the house.
Did I mention camping?
No. You said you
might need an escort.
Yeah, well,
I travel occasionally.
Theatrical engagements.
I take it you're a Christian?
Excuse me?
Well, I make it a policy
always to advertise in Hello Jesus.
As a single woman,
I'm acutely aware
of the dangers
of sexual assault by younger men,
though, sadly, God is no longer
the insurance policy he once was.
Or am I just old-fashioned?
Now, then, a few house rules.
At home, I'm never
Dame Eve, only Evie.
Meals are taken in the kitchen,
unless I happen to be entertaining,
in which case I shall
ask you to serve a few drinks,
some canapes...
I pay 6p an hour,
which is a pound more than McDonald's
So if that is unsatisfactory
I suggest you go and work for them,
though how you can
consider such a thing
in all good conscience,
I really don't know.
You ought to be
ashamed of yourself.
Sorry...
Monday to Friday, 11:00 to 4:00,
and every alternate weekend
lunch included.
Yes or no?
Um... Yes.
Oh, excellent.
Well, we do seem to be
getting along famously,
don't we, Ben?
Now, I'll show you around.
Hi, Ben.
Hi.
Been swimming?
Um, yeah.
What are you all dressed up for?
I've got a job.
Doing what?
Looking after a lady in Hampstead.
Lucky lady.
So where are you going now, Ben?
I was just walking.
I thought maybe if you were going,
we could, you know, walk.
Okay.
See you.
You know, after last Bible class,
Peter walked me home.
He says he likes
sharing his thoughts with me.
He says there's
an incredible witnessing
going on in
a church in Hackney.
He says he may take
a group of us there next Sunday.
Peter's so great.
Yeah.
He said this,
like, black priest
has actually flown
over from America
to save the Church
of England from itself.
Can you imagine?
That's just so Pete.
You've got lovely hair.
What?
Sorry.
I've wrote you a poem.
I've got it here. I could
read it to you, if you like.
It's okay,
you can just give it to me.
I can read it later.
I'd really like
to read it to you.
Really, it's okay.
It's only five lines.
Go on, then. Quickly.
You are the harvest,
God's water and wheat
"Birds fly for you, sing for you
Each wing a beat
of my heart for you
Felt for you, my clay feet
I do not sing for you,
do not fly for you
I'm not water, I'm not wheat
I would be dove,
I would be hawk
Your milky breasts,
my strange meat
What do you think?
I'm sorry,
but you're just too weird.
You're walking through the desert.
It's very, very hot.
Walking. Tired.
You're walking and
walking and walking.
And then... Over here.
You see a eucalyptus tree.
And then
it's Jesus Christ himself,
carrying his loaves and fishes.
Now, everybody,
quickly, quickly, sitting
in the shade of the eucalyptus tree.
Sitting in the shade,
sitting in the shade.
I'm so proud of Ben.
Not only has he found a job
he's found a job
helping a retired actress.
She's not retired.
What's her name again, Ben?
Eve Walton.
She's a dame.
Eve Walton?
Wasn't she with
the RSC years ago?
Played Ophelia.
I've really no idea.
Haven't heard her
name for a while.
That's not
saying much, is it?
When was the last time
you went to the theater.
We went to the West End
last Christmas.
That was panto.
I'm sure Dame Eve's
never done panto.
We must invite her over, Ben.
Perhaps she can help us out
with The Story of Christ's Miracles.
On second thought, maybe
we should save her for
Peter's International Day.
Give the Muslims
something to think about.
Excuse me.
Who is it?
Ben.
Come in.
Mum thought you might
like some crumble.
What's that one?
A skylark.
Skylark?
It's found mainly in the Highlands
now, I think.
Its call is
a sort of chirruping...
It's not to be confused with
the woodlark, which has a quieter...
Aye.
Oh, you can borrow the book,
if you like.
It's okay.
Well, it's on the shelf.
Anytime.
Thanks.
Thanks for the crumble.
God, I loathe gardening.
One beastly patch of grass
and my bloody back's in agony.
And whoever made up
all these ridiculous Latin names
should be shot.
Floria Fuckabundee.
As if anyone gives a sixpenny fuck
what the Romans called them.
Stop that bus!
Are these
the best available seats?
I must say I prefer
to sit nearer the front.
I say, I would prefer
to sit nearer the front.
Since nobody appears to be moving,
I suppose we shall have to make do.
Goodness me,
somebody forgot to wash.
Oof!
Lovely London.
Sweetie? Christmas in a lick.
No, thanks.
For a boy of 17, you show
a lamentable lack of curiosity.
No doubt you're suppressed
by your upbringing,
but that's hardly enough to explain
what frankly amounts
to little short of social autism.
I shall have to imagine
your curiosity for you.
You're a healthy 17-year-old boy.
You're not, of course,
but you take my point.
You see an attractive woman
living on her own.
You wonder,
"Is she a roaring lesbian?"
Answer, no.
For your information, I've been
married and divorced three times.
Once to an actor,
once to an English lord,
and once to a Californian.
All work flings.
My mistake.
You, on the other hand,
might well be gay.
I must introduce you to Dougal,
old agent friend of mine.
Hopelessly queer, of course,
but the old-fashioned type.
Bent gent.
I'm not gay.
I beg your pardon?
I'm not gay.
Not gay, apparently.
Can I help?
I wish to see your equipment.
My equipment?
Show me everything you've got.
Wait. Stop.
Ben.
Can you put your
shoulder under my arse?
Always dreamed of camping,
even as a child.
Half in, half out.
Of course, my parents would
never have dreamt of it.
The lower middle classes
are the worst snobs.
You sound faintly Cockney.
Are you?
No.
No. What are you, really?
I don't know.
I mean, middle class, I suppose.
Nothing to be ashamed of.
Middle classes are
the engine room of England.
It's just their
parents I can't stand.
"They flee from me
that sometime did me seek
"With naked foot
stalking in my chamber
"I have seen them gentle,
tame and meek
"That now are wild,
and do not remember
"That sometime
they put themselves in danger
"To take bread at my hand"
Any luck with this one?
Sadly,
your prices are beyond us,
but for your aid and succo
we thank you.
Look, a camping stove.
Come on.
Where on earth have you been?
It's 6:00.
I got held up.
Got held up?
We had a driving lesson at 4:00.
You should have let me know.
There was nowhere to call from.
If I had a mobile...
Mobiles give you cancer.
Come on. I'll drive.
If I am alive
this time next year
Read that.
We'll have a theory lesson.
Will I have arrived
in time to share
And mine
is about as good this far
And I'm still applied
to what you are
Ben. Where were you
this evening?
We had a driving lesson.
Is that all?
Yes.
Ben, are you asleep?
Whatever happens
behind these walls, Ben,
we're God's ambassadors.
We show the world a smiling face.
Put it away.
Sorry.
You do not touch my things!
I was tidying.
You do not touch my things!
Yes.
I'm sorry. I'm very sorry.
You tidy around them.
Evie? I've got your shopping.
Evie?
Sink.
-Sorry?
Sink.
-Sorry, I...
Sink!
You all right?
-No.
I've got puke in my hair.
Sit me down.
Okay?
No.
Sofa.
It's gonna be all right.
Fuck off.
Goody fucking two-shoes.
No.
Stay. Please.
Just till I go to sleep.
Thank you.
Give me oil in my lamp
keep me burning
Give me oil in my lamp
I pray
Give me oil in my lamp
keep me burning
Keep me burning
till the break of day
Sing hosanna, sing hosanna
Sing hosanna
to the King of kings
Sing hosanna, sing hosanna
Sing hosanna to the King
Evie.
Quick, quick, come! You'll never
believe what I've just found.
I've come to hand in my notice.
Yes, yes, later.
Come. Close your eyes.
I've got something to show you.
Eyes shut!
Open.
It's a tent.
Not the tent, my books.
My Shakespeares, my Chekhovs.
They were in a crate
in the living room.
You must have moved them when
you were going through my things.
That was one of the reasons...
But nonsense. I thought
I'd lost them forever.
I won't lie to you, Ben.
Lately, I've found myself
a stranger to the Bard.
I had money problems.
My last husband...
Oh, well, be that as it may,
I was obliged to take TV work,
a daytime drama series
set amongst wealthy
shipping magnates,
called, rather unimaginatively,
The Shipping Magnates.
I believe they still
run it somewhere on Sky.
No money in it for me, naturally.
I auditioned for Nurse Ratched
in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
You're Coriolanus.
I'm your mother. I disown you.
"This fellow had
a Volscian to his mother,
"his wife is in Corioli
and his child like him by chance.
"Yet give us our dispatch:
"I am hush'd until
our city be a-fire,
"and then
I'll speak a little. "
"My sister, my sister... "
"Oh, my dear orchard,
"my sweet and lovely orchard.
"My life,
"my youth, my happiness,
"farewell!
"Farewell!"
"I'll met by moonlight,
proud Titania. "
"What, jealous Oberon!
"Fairies, skip hence:
I have forsworn
his bed and company. "
"Tarry, rash wanton:
am I not thy lord?"
"Then I must be thy lady. "
"Kill me to-morrow:
let me live to-night!"
"Nay, if you strive... "
"But half an hour!"
"Being done,
there is no pause. "
"But while I say one prayer!"
"'Tis too late. "
Born to it.
Absolutely born to it.
We did Othello at school.
It wasn't like...
I mean, it wasn't very good.
The thing is, you don't
understand the jealousy bit
until you've actually
strangled someone yourself.
Ah, there, you see,
the poetry, the pain.
I write poetry.
How intriguing.
May I hear one?
I'm not...
I mean, I don't know
any off by heart.
Another time, perhaps.
Now, then, I was thinking
we could go camping tomorrow.
Somewhere not too far.
Try out the old tent.
Something the matter?
How long would we be away for?
Oh, a day.
Two days at the most.
Hello, there.
And what brings you here?
Mmm?
Do you think Mum
will let me go camping?
Camping?
Why on earth would anyone
want to go camping?
To escape?
He can't possibly.
He's got a dress rehearsal
with the Guides next week.
He's a tree.
A eucalyptus tree.
Plus, he's got Bible club and
his driving lessons to think about.
But I thought you
were teaching him. -Precisely.
Well, surely a few days
is hardly gonna make
any difference...
Robert, you're not the one
trying to run the Girl Guides,
organize a play,
keep house and look after half
the over-70s in Finchley.
Sorry, but what does any
of that have to do with Ben?
I need him here.
Night, Dad.
Night-night, Ben.
I'm sorry about the camping.
Sometimes your
mother can be a little...
Good night, Mr. Fincham.
Bright and early.
That's the ticket.
I'm afraid I can't
come camping with you.
My mother needs me at home.
I see.
Sorry.
Well, never mind. We can just take
a little drive instead.
I take it you drive.
I'm still a learner.
This is wonderful.
This is simply...
Just look at all that green!
Just look at it.
It's all so fucking green!
We should probably think
about turning back soon.
Oh, there's bags of time.
It's not even dark yet.
I really do think
we should turn back.
Stop the car!
Stop! Stop!
Good God above,
I am in Elysium!
Drive in!
I see now why the working classes
kept camping a secret.
Sky. Air.
Their little urchins
skedaddling about.
Hello, there.
I'm Evie. I've come camping.
Mum!
There.
Very nice.
If you don't mind,
I really think we should
be getting back now.
My mother was expecting me at 6:00.
I can't possibly leave
until I've eaten campfire food.
I really do have to say,
there's no time left.
There's always time.
Right, that's it.
I'm packing up the tent.
I beg your pardon?
I'm taking down the tent.
We're leaving.
Car key, please.
Sorry?
Car key.
Okay.
Oh, my God.
You've swallowed the key.
What a relief. He swears.
You've swallowed the fucking key!
Better and better.
Choke. Bring it back.
You can't do that!
You have to bring it back!
No, I don't.
-Yes, you do!
No, I don't.
Shit. There's a spare set.
Where's the spare?
Haven't got one.
How could you do that?
Felt like it.
My mother's gonna kill me.
You don't understand.
She said I wasn't to come.
I asked, and she said no.
You don't say yes when my mother
says no. You don't do it.
My dear boy,
the key will be back
with us in the morning.
I'm regular as clockwork.
Look, if it makes
you feel any better.
I'll ring your mother and tell her
I went momentarily mad.
No! No.
Whatever you do,
do not ring my mother.
As you wish.
I'll have to call home.
Eat first. A soldier fights
better on a full stomach.
Have a drink.
I don't drink.
Go on.
It'll make you feel better.
No, it won't.
It was a key. I swallowed it.
Frankly, you should be flattered.
Now, I insist
you have a drink.
I'm underage.
Well, how old are you?
Seventeen and a half.
So young,
and so pedantic.
One glass. You can
tell God I forced you.
To poetry.
"'Auschwitz,'
screamed my halting mentor.
"'Remember
your godforsaken lust
"'in their tolled,
heaped-up hell. '
"'But, but,' I urged... "
That's me.
Yeah.
"'But, but,' I urged,
"'they have passed us,
passed beyond to a better place. '
"'Revenge,' he cries, 'is yours,
"'but you are blinded
by your petty sorrow. '
"'Pity me, pity me,' I yelped.
"'Your service is inclusive
of this testing ground, your soul. '"
Then you go back to the narrator.
Mmm-hmm.
"The Church's
palpable texts breathe
"their rich, rich grace
into your heart,
"and they are
precious and beautiful,
"and you must never forsake
the thought of God,
"for God is love. "
And you wrote this for...
Sarah. She's a friend.
I haven't sent it yet.
She thought my last
poem was a bit weird.
Yes.
Well, don't hurry your heart.
That was always my mistake.
What do your parents make of Sarah?
Or perhaps you haven't
got that far yet.
To be honest,
I'm not really sure
how she feels about me.
Well, you have
the soul of a poet,
and that, let me tell you,
lasts a great deal longer than looks.
Hello?
Mum?
Ben? Where are you?
I was expecting you at 6:00.
I'm on a campsite.
Evie swallowed the car key,
and now we can't get back
till she poos it out.
Mum? You there?
I'm calling the police.
Where are you?
I don't know.
Don't call the police.
I'm fine, really.
Have you taken a tablet?
Ben, try to think.
Did she give you a tablet?
Something for a headache?
I'm fine. I just can't
come back till morning.
Robert, she's kidnapped him!
He's somewhere on a campsite.
He sounds drugged.
Mum, I'm fine, honestly.
Don't move.
I'm on my way.
Mum, there's
nothing wrong with me!
I'm stuck on a campsite,
and I can't come back till morning.
Then I'll expect you
whenever you can get back.
Good night, Ben.
Mum?
Mum.
And will I be a part
of what you've made
And I am throwing
All my thoughts away
And I'm destroying
Every bet I've made
All well?
Fine.
Don't feel guilty.
Guilt's a wicked ghost.
I'm just going for a stroll.
I'll be down
the road a little way.
So pack the car up
and come out and meet me.
Car key.
Oh, yeah. Right.
Yeah. There we are.
Right.
Your granny said you'd pay.
You could have told me
you weren't going to pay.
That campsite
manager was a very big man.
- If I hadn't had the money...
- I'll pay you back.
- That's not the point!
- Oh, for goodness' sake.
Anyone would think
you'd given blood.
I think it's best
I stop working for you.
Oh, why? So you can take up
being pompous professionally?
You can pay me what you owe me
when we get back to the house.
I'm not going back.
I have a poetry recital in Edinburgh.
I'm to take part in
a week of readings
at the Literary Festival.
You never said
anything about that.
Why should I?
Well, I can't
possibly go to Edinburgh.
It's...
It's all the way up there.
Nonsense. It's just
a few miles on the motorway.
I can't. - Well, that really
is most inconvenient.
I'm sorry, I just can't.
Look, I'll drive
you to the station,
and I'll get the train home.
I don't drive.
Oh, shit.
You have a car in your garage.
Ex-husband's. The Russian.
Very keen skier.
I'm a learner driver.
I'm strictly forbidden to drive a car
without a qualified
motorist in the vehicle.
Gosh, you really do
know all the rules, don't you?
We're breaking the law!
Evie!
Evie?
You okay?
Do you want some water?
I'll...
You all right now?
What's wrong?
Other than the fact
that I have an untreatable
condition, nothing.
- What condition?
- What do you care?
You're going home.
Evie, please, tell me.
Sparing you the details,
my tits have
turned into time bombs.
Doctors gave up
treating me last year.
My surgeon says it's the worst
case he's ever seen.
How long have you got?
Did they say?
How long is a piece of hope?
A month?
Three months?
A week?
A week?
You're shocked.
You're still so young.
To me a week is a year,
every moment a blessing.
Well,
I expect you'll be wanting
to get back to your mother.
Oh! Where are we off to?
Edinburgh.
You've got a recital to give.
One door opens
another shuts behind
One sun sets
and another sun she rises
Love comes to you
in old familiar ways
Love comes to you
in shadows and disguises
Love may break like
a precious string of pearls
Treasured moments
they roll away and scatter
Make believe that there's
ice runs through my veins
Shrug my shoulders
to say it doesn't matter
And they say it was my turn
They say I had it coming
They say that's what you earn
For living through a lie
If I could have my way
I'd leave it all tomorrow
There's sorrow if I stay
I've other fish to fry
Where the hell is Dryden?
Pull over.
Wait here.
Jewelry on a woman my age
is frankly rather vulgar.
Buy yourself a clean shirt.
You're my assistant now.
Drive on.
Miss Walton?
I am she.
Hello. Welcome to Edinburgh.
I'm Bryony. I'm helping
on the Literary Festival.
Did you have a good journey up?
As good as can be expected.
Ben, my assistant, drove me.
I'm afraid we hadn't allow
for an assistant.
No, no.
I'll take care of that.
Okay, follow me.
So if you want to check
yourselves in at the desk,
they should be able to sort
you out with an extra room.
Anything else you need,
don't hesitate to ask.
Thank you.
Emma, the woman that booked you in,
she'll try and pop in and say hello.
She's a bit run off
her feet at the moment.
And we'll have a taxi at 11:00
to take you to the venue.
I've got to tell you, I'm
a huge fan of your TV show,
The Shipping Magnates.
Yes.
You've seen '80s Night on Sky?
No.
I never miss it.
I know all your catchphrases.
"I'm a woman,
Leland, not an oil tanker. "
You're huge on the gay scene.
Am I?
Sorry.
So we'll see you
tomorrow at 11:00, then?
Bye for now.
You wanted to see me?
Yes, come in.
I thought Dougal
would at least have had
the decency to
meet us at the hotel.
One doesn't ask
much of one's agent.
I need some water.
Thank you.
Thank you.
When I asked you
to come with me to Edinburgh,
I may have given the impression
that such things
were a regular occurrence.
The truth is,
I haven't given any sort
of theatrical performance
for many years.
I accepted this offer
because I was
flattered to be asked.
It now appears
I may have misjudged
the reason for my invitation.
What have they asked you to do?
I'm to read from
an anthology of love poetry
It's being re-published.
Part of a week of readings
entitled "Forgotten Voices. "
Sounds very nice.
I don't suppose you're familiar
with the notion of kitsch.
It's rather popular
in literary circles.
However, what's done is done
We're here now,
and the show must go on.
I'm sure they'd understand
if you didn't wanna go on,
given how little time you have.
Don't be ridiculous.
Of course I'm going on!
When a woman says
she's not going on,
it doesn't mean she's not going on!
I want to go on.
I'm just nervous, that's all.
Sorry.
-Yes, well...
As long as you're there,
I'll be fine.
Of course I'll be there.
It's silly, I know, but I think
if you weren't there with me
I couldn't go on.
You're my poet.
You understand the power of words.
Tomorrow, then.
Tomorrow.
"I'm a woman, Leland,
not an oil tanker."
Hello. Nice shirt.
Have you stopped slaving yet?
Me, too, thank God. I've just shown
my last novelist to his room.
The bugger actually tried to chat
me up. Writers are so fucking vain.
You do speak, don't you?
Good.
You fancy a drink?
I should be in bed.
There's a club I sometimes go to.
It's just round the corner.
Great.
Great.
So shall we go?
Yes.
Hi.
This way.
Come with me.
Sorry.
Jim, the usual, please.
Here. Cheers.
What's your old lady so uptight for?
She's nervous about tomorrow.
Why? She's only
reading a couple of poems.
They probably won't even get to her.
Emma's always booking
far too many people.
I think Dame Evie
wouldn't be very happy
if she didn't get
the chance to read.
Dame?
She's not a dame, is she?
Yes.
Let's dance.
Oh, I'm okay, thanks.
Come on, it'll do you good.
Use your hips!
Use your arms.
Wiggle your arse.
Come on!
Come on, watch me.
Hey!
Could you believe how hairy
that guy's back was?
It's only rented.
Anyone who can
afford to buy around here
definitely doesn't
work in publishing.
How old are you?
I'm 18 and a half.
Don't mind me asking, but why
are you working for an old lady?
Were there no other jobs?
She's my grandmother.
Cool. Sorry, I didn't mean
to be rude about it.
It's okay.
Is this your first time?
No.
Sorry. I'm sorry.
Come here, you twit.
Explain, please, the meaning of,
"He is not in his room."
Well, his key's at reception
and he's not answering his phone.
Then kindly unlock the door!
I'm sorry,
I'm afraid I can't do that.
We're not at liberty to
unlock a client's door
unless there's an emergency.
And you don't call this an emergency?
With the greatest
of respect madam, no.
You were saying?
What's happening?
My assistant is missing in action.
When you find him, I'll be downstairs
at La Brasserie Ecosse. Thank you.
Can I get you anything else?
Another.
Hello.
I made you some tea.
Do you take sugar?
No.
It's okay, I'm not gonna eat you.
I don't have to be
anywhere till after lunch.
How about you? Do you fancy
staying in for a bit?
I take it that's a no, then.
It's 11:30!
-So?
I promised Evie I'd
be there by 11:00.
She can go on her own, can't she?
-She won't go on without me.
You're kidding, right?
-She means it.
I have to be there before she goes
on, or she can't remember her lines.
Ben, she's reading from a book.
It makes no difference.
She's completely hopeless
unless I'm in the same room.
Isn't that a bit weird?
She's not weird.
She's just nervous.
Relax. She's having you on.
No, she isn't.
I promised her I'd be there.
Once you've made a promise,
you should keep it.
I'm sorry.
Ben.
Yes?
You're a lovely guy.
Thank you.
And thank you for having me.
Stop at an offy.
I need a drink.
Miss Walton?
Emma Pagent, Vintage Press.
For a moment there, I thought
we'd lost you to the Scots.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Vintage Press, in conjunction
with Eternal Spring,
the exfoliating cream that gently
peels away the years,
are delighted to
welcome Miss Eve Walton.
I thought I'd
begin today's recital
by reading William
Shakespeare's sonnet number 29,
"When in Disgrace with Fortune."
Sorry. Excuse me.
Sorry.
The Presbyterian
Hall off Market Street?
Straight on,
second on the right.
I'm sorry. I seem to have...
It's all right.
I know it off by heart.
"When indisgrace
with fortune and men's eyes
"I all alone
beweep my outcast state
"And trouble deaf heaven
with my bootless cries
"And look upon myself
"And... "
I'm sorry, very sorry.
I know another one.
"Flo, Flo
"I love you so
"I love you in your nightie
"When the moonlight
flits across your tits
"Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty"
I'm sorry. I don't
know what's the matter.
Ben? Ben, where are you?
Where are you, Ben?
It's okay, I'm here.
Where were you?
I got held up.
You promised me.
I'm sorry.
Get me out of here.
Okay.
Where are we?
On the way to Cheltenham.
Cheltenham?
There's another festival there.
But I don't want to
go to another festival.
It's all sorted.
I spoke to the lady, Emma What's-it,
and explained to her
you only had a week to live.
She was really nice about it.
She booked you a slot
at the Cheltenham
Literary Festival with Martin Amis.
What are you talking about?
I told her. You're not just
some cheap soap star from the '80s.
You deserve a better end.
The Cheltenham
Literary Festival with Martin Amis?
Jesus Christ! Turn the car round
at once and take me home.
No.
What did you say?
When a woman says
she doesn't wanna go on,
that doesn't mean she
doesn't wanna go on.
Young man, let me
make myself quite clear.
Under no circumstances
am I giving another recital.
I have humiliated myself
quite enough already.
Now all I want to do
is go home and shut the door.
You have to climb back on the horse.
What? Climb back on the what?
God wants you to do one more
performance before you die.
Stop the car.
You were upset.
You lost your nerve.
Next time, I'll go
through the pieces with you...
Stop the fucking car!
I will not be bullied,
even by an emotional cripple.
I'm not going back.
Then I'll walk.
You can't. You're dying.
I am not dying.
You mustn't be afraid of death.
I am not dying!
God embraces all who believe in him,
for they shall have everlasting life.
I am not dying! I made it up!
I forgive you.
Oh, don't be so fucking pompous.
I made a tit of myself.
I'm going home. End of story.
Evie.
Evie, where do you
think you're going?
Evie, stop. You're in
the middle of nowhere.
Then I will cling to
the edge of somewhere.
Evie, please. You're worth too
much to let yourself go.
Bugger off.
You know I'm right.
You can't deny it.
God gave you your
talent for a reason.
There is no God,
you hopeless little cretin.
God forgives you for that, too.
Let's get one
thing clear, sonny boy.
I do the forgiving, not God.
That's a terrible thing to say.
Oh, don't get biblical on me,
you pompous fuck.
You never read
the bloody thing anyway.
- I read my Bible every night!
- Liar!
Liar?
You're telling me I'm a liar?
I've never met anyone
who lied so much in all my life.
You make up whole
people out of thin air.
You said you'd be there
at 11:00 and you weren't!
You make up conversations.
You make up money.
The one time I really needed you
and you let me down!
The one time!
Who were you with
that was so bloody important
you couldn't even
be bothered to show up?
Who was it?
Bryony.
Take me home.
We can look for
a campsite on the way.
I'm sorry.
Come and look.
Evie?
Mmm?
Do you know that picture
I found on your desk?
Was that your baby?
What happened?
He died of meningitis
when he was two.
What was his name?
Thomas Oliver Walton. Tom.
He had
a particular way of speaking.
When he was proud of something,
he used to miss words out.
Like once when we were
trying to catch a bus.
He was holding my hand,
shouting, "I running. "
Life is confusing.
Just when we think it's all over,
it throws a view like this at us
and we don't know where we are.
Shall I bring in the things?
Tomorrow.
I'm going to rest now.
I tricked you into going all
that way, and you didn't want to go.
I'm sorry.
I had a brilliant time, really.
Tomorrow, then.
You don't have to tell me
what happened. I know already.
Some people are wicked,
and that's all there is to it.
She isn't wicked.
She's an actress!
I think that says enough.
Of course, I blame myself
for suggesting we try and do
something kind for Mr. Fincham.
This is the thanks I get.
My child on drugs, probably abused.
I wasn't abused.
I had a really good time.
When you went with that actress,
you left God's house.
While there is breath in my body,
you will not leave it again.
Look at me when
I'm talking to you!
She needs me. She's my friend.
I could never
betray you, Ben.
Don't betray me.
Don't be a betrayer.
You may have noticed
that Mr. Fincham has started
dressing in my clothes.
We must assume that
this is part of his recovery.
Evie, it's me, Ben.
I can't make it today.
My mum... Anyway, I'll try
and get there tomorrow.
Ben. I have to go now.
Sway.
Town to town
Broadcast to each house,
they drop your name
Sway.
But no one knows your face
Billboards quoting things
you'd never say
You hang your head and pray
For Jesusland
Jesusland
Down.
And one, two, three, up.
Hello. May I help you?
How do you do?
I'm Dame Eve Walton.
I was wondering
if Ben was in, by any chance.
I'm afraid he's out.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Would you mind
telling him I called?
Only he left a message,
but I haven't heard from him.
I'm so sorry.
He has no wish
to work for you anymore.
I see. Did he say why?
He's found
something more appropriate.
More appropriate?
Is that all?
Yes. I'm sorry. Yes.
Please give him
my very best wishes.
Thank you so much for calling.
Goodbye.
Ben, what would I do without you?
First positions, please.
Quick as you can. Quick as you can.
Look at them. I'd like to see
Dame Evie do better.
The way she looks, I'd say she was
lucky to get a soap opera.
What do you mean?
You've never met her.
Mum,
did she come looking for me?
On a hot afternoon in
the hills of Galilee,
a hungry crowd is gathering
in the shade of a eucalyptus tree,
when all of a sudden,
Jesus Christ, the son of God,
comes strolling towards them.
We're hungry.
... they cry.
Where can we get food?
Showing them his
loaves and fishes,
Jesus smiles and says...
Come unto me, all ye that are heavy
lade and I will refresh you.
Ben?
Well, Jesus was a man
who traveled through the land
A hard working man and brave
Well, he said to the rich
Now
give your money to the poor
So they lay
Jesus Christ in his grave
Hah-le, hallelujah
Hah-le, hallelujah
Hah-le, hallelujah
They lay
Jesus Christ is his grave
Hah-le, hallelujah
They lay
Jesus Christ in his grave
Evie? It's me, Ben.
I've only got a few minutes.
I'm in that play at the church hall.
I just want you to know,
Mum never told me you called.
Evie, I know you're in there.
Please answer the door.
Evie, I need to talk to you.
I only stayed away 'cause
I was scared what my mum would do.
Evie! I need you!
You're my best friend.
Don't make me go back there,
not like this.
Evie?
You silly cow.
Hold on, dear. Bloody hell.
I'm coming! Hang on.
Don't give up! I'm on my way!
Taxi!
Saint Luke's Church Hall, Finchley.
And now, as the final chapter
of our story unfolds,
we watch God's angels
surrounding the stone that lies
across the mouth of the cave
in preparation for
the greatest miracle of all,
Christ's resurrection.
How much is that, dear?
...rolling, rolling, rolling.
Then, as the heavy boulder
slips to one side,
Christ steps into the light
and God the Father cries...
I've come for my boy!
Shit.
God as a woman.
That's so beautiful.
Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you so much.
Oh, thank you.
You are too kind.
Start the finale!
The finale! Go!
My friends, my friends!
The time has come
for God's son
to say farewell.
Summer's lease has
all too short a date
and the leaves on the trees,
they are a-stirring.
Yes, Lord!
Yes, Lord!
Yes, Lord!
When in disgrace with fortune
and men's eyes,
lift yourself up
and shout to the skies,
"No, no, I don't
wanna be a tree no more!
"No... "
No!
"... I'm gonna be a man. "
Good news, Lord!
Yes, sister.
Ain't it good news?
Oh, Lord, good news!
Yes, yes, yes.
No roots to dig
me in the ground!
No branches
to catch my crown!
I am the son of man,
ain't nobody holding me down!
Thanks for coming.
You stuck by me,
I'll stick by you.
Thank you, thank you.
Hallelujah! Don't touch my clothes.
Stop her.
What do you want me to do?
For Christ's sake!
Thank you, thank you.
No, no autographs. Thank you.
Ben Marshall,
come back here at once!
Time to go home.
Ben-Ben?
I'm not your Ben-Ben.
Don't be silly, my love.
And I'm not your love.
Ben, stop now, please.
No, I won't stop.
I'm gonna go on and on
until everybody knows
just what it's like
to live in your life.
Ben. "Be good, be nice. "
And all the bloody time,
you're driving round
in Dad's car having sex...
Ben!
Mr. Fincham?
Laura, darling!
Dear Ben, I do hope when you
read this letter,
your mother finds herself
on the road to recovery.
In the circumstances,
I quite understand that
you will feel it inappropriate
to work for me anymore.
Besides,
you are your own man now.
Do remember, however odd it all gets,
this is only the denouement.
The end is up to you.
To wit,
I leave you with this quote,
penned by my dear friend
William Shakespeare:
"When the shit hits the fan,
get a tent. "
Ben. Come, talk to me.
How are you?
The doctor said
the only reason I survived
is because I drive an economy car.
God truly is a friend to the thrifty.
Mum, please.
There's something
else I need to tell you.
Your father and I have been talking.
I've prayed to God, and I hear him.
He's telling me to get a divorce.
Ben?
Hiya.
Hi.
I'm next in the prayer chain.
Are you all right, Ben?
Fine.
We all know about your mum and Peter.
If it's God's will...
You're very angry, aren't you?
Don't be.
You're still God's gift.
Every day God gives us is a gift.
That's why we call it the present.
Fuck off, Sarah.
- What did you say?
- I said 'Fuck off'.
Ben?
What are you doing?
You saw your mother?
Peter's taking her to
Cornwall to convalesce.
She said I should
visit them sometime.
I think it's better this way.
How can you say that?
After all the shit she put you
through, how can you say that to me?
You're my dad. You're meant
to stand up for yourself.
You should've divorced her!
You should've told her
to bloody well fuck off.
I did.
It was me who
asked for the divorce.
Ben, I know this is hard for you to understand,
but when I made my vows to your
mother, I meant what I said,
and though it may seem like very
little, I have tried
to be true to my word.
You should've talked to me.
I'd have understood.
I'm a poet. I understand
the power of words.
Yes.
I think I may move
out here for a while.
Good idea.
Get a bit of space.
You know, it's a while
since I've been camping.
Dad?
I saw a skylark in Scotland.
Really? Do you know, I've never
seen one. Did it sing?
Just like you said.
Wonderful.
It was.
I do love you, Ben.
Very much.
I love you, too, Dad.
Yes. Good. Yeah, that's good.
Blast you.
Oh, for goodness' sake...
Come on!
You blunt little bastards, cut!
Ben!
I wasn't sure I was
going to see you again.
I've been a bit busy.
Good.
I can't stay. I'm on my lunch break.
I've got a job in a bookshop.
Books. Very apropos.
I'm living on my own now,
in the garden.
Excellent. And your parents?
They're my parents.
Yes.
So, any plans?
I'm thinking of going to college.
Where?
- Edinburgh.
To study...
English.
English! Good choice.
I wrote you something.
I'm still experimenting
with free verse.
Free verse.
Ah.
"Some mysteries
I will never understand
"The way the Earth
rotates around the sun
"three minutes
short of every day
"Or the way the dead are gone
"Like putting down the phone
or turning a corner
"The future
"That's another whopper
"We can never know
what we can never know
"Except that whoever you a
and whoever I am
"You made it all right to be me"
It's not Shakespeare.
No, dear, but it's lovely,
and it's you.
Bye, then.
Goodbye, Ben.
God, God don't never change
He's God, and always will be
God in the pulpit
God way down at the door
God in the amen corner
God all over the floor
God, God don't never change
He's God, and always will be
God spoke to the mountain
He said how great I am
He watched me
get up this morning
And skip around like a lamb
God, God don't never change
She's God and always will be
I'm in the middle of the ocean
On top of the old oak tree
Everywhere I look
He's always there
For me
God, God don't never change
He's God, and always will be
God, God don't never change
He's God, and always will be
God, God don't never change
He's God and always will be
And always will be
And always will be
God, God don't never change
He's God and always will be
He's God and always will be
He's God
and always will be