Sons and Lovers Sorry!

Hello!

Coo-ee! I'm back!

Aren't you going to ask me if I've wiped my feet?

Cos if you were, I was going to say, "No, but I have wiped my nose!"

Mother?

Father?

SHE HUMS TO HERSELF

# Simply charming weather... #

-Is it you?

-Is what me?

Good Lord, it is you! You've...

Wait a minute, you've done something to yourself.

I don't know what you mean.

Don't tell me, don't tell me - you're going to the Chelsea Arts Ball.

-Little Bo Peep, is it?

-Oh, you silly-billy! Off we go and wash our hands.

Oh, OUR hands? Are we sharing a pair?

Most amusing!

Mother, are you all right, dear? What is all...

I mean, this wonderful food, this lovely pie looks really lovely.

-In which case, what is it doing here?

-Put that down, please.

-Perfume, Mother! You've got a fancy man!

-Fancy man!

That smarmy bruiser at the butcher's, is it,

who keeps giving you bones for a dog we haven't got?

I don't know what you mean. Go and wash your hands.

-Mother, your son is back. Don't I get a little peck on the cheek?

-Later.

I haven't got time for you now, Timothy. I have other fish to fry.

Ah, it's the fishmonger!

The one with dandruff and a face like a conger eel.

We don't mention conger eels in this house. It's rock salmon.

-Oh, is that his name, Rock Salmon?

-Don't be puerile.

Off you go and wash your puddleducks.

# Oh, what simply lovely weather... #

Mother, you really are...

What's this?

She HAS got a fancy man!

A blooming big fancy man!

Fancy man mountain!

Mother, Mother, whose coat is that out there?

You know, the one with the macho collar and the rugged detailing?

-The nice one? That's Brinsley's.

-Brinsley?

-Brinsley! Brinsley Natwick!

You haven't forgotten your second cousin once removed, have you?

No, I haven't. Let us hope he removes himself once again.

-What is he doing here, Mother?

-Why? What have you got against Brinsley?

-Well, he's too big, for a start.

-Too big? He's a splendid size.

He has perfect manners, unlike some, and, of all the big men

I've ever known, he has quite the gentlest pair of hands.

Mother, what are you saying?

He massaged my feet last night.

-He what?!

-All right, scoff!

You don't know what it is to have feet.

Brinsley knows. He's a Natwick.

All Natwicks have feet to varying degrees.

-He used to massage my head with his knuckles.

-Did he? Hahahah! Sweet!

Sweet? He was a bully, Mother, and very big as well.

If you remember, I was rather small for my age at one time.

You know what happens to tell-tale-tits.

I am not telling tales, Mother.

These are the reflections of a mature adult looking back.

In anger, as it happens.

I haven't told you this before, Mother,

but, in 1952, when Brinsley came on holiday with us to Shanklin,

his nightly amusement was to sit on my head and break wind.

Timothy! Not in the kitchen!

No, in the bathroom.

And the beach hut.

Even if he did, he's put all that behind him now.

He put all that behind him then and that's what I'm objecting to.

There's no need to be unnecessary.

Why are none of these letters for me, Mother?

They're all addressed to Brinsley.

Well, perhaps he takes the trouble to write to people,

unlike some little assistant under dogsbody

at the library I could mention.

So, what's wrong with being a library...

Oh, I see, suddenly my job compares unfavourably to Brinsley's.

What does Brinsley do, Mother?

Fly Concorde with one hand tied behind his back?

-He's a surveyor.

-What, with a pole, you mean?

He works on important building sites.

He wears a hard hat and looks very well in it, too, I may say.

I get the point, Mother.

Brinsley sounds like something out of a real-ale commercial.

He's been living off the fat of the land here for the past week

to the exclusion of almost everybody else.

-How's Father, by the way?

-Who?

You know, 68, greyish with hairy nostrils.

Keeps clearing his throat as if to say something important

and clears his throat again.

-Oh, him!

-Yes.

-He's probably fiddling with his compost.

Little else to fiddle with, poor old soul.

Don't be so coarse. And you haven't washed yourself.

You've been on a train

and, with the expenses you get from the library,

third class, I don't doubt.

Mother, third class went out with chilblains.

Any excuse not to wash your hands.

You might as least go and clean yourself up for Brinsley.

Oh, for Brinsley.

And if you want to go tinkies, you'd better go now

because I'm just going to run Brinsley's bath.

He's a clean young man, unlike some.

I'll bear that in mind, Mother, next time he sits on my head.

COUGHING

Has she gone? I just needed the matches.

Hello, Father. I'm back.

-Oh, yes. Brinsley back yet?

-Why is everybody going on about Brinsley?

-Mother's gone overboard about him.

-Has she?

-She hasn't been talking much to me.

-Oh, that is awful.

No, it's a blessed relief!

It's a pleasure to have him here, too.

We needed an active young man about the place.

You remember that mangle that used to take up all the room in the shed?

Well, you and I couldn't shift it. He threw it on a skip down the road!

I could have done that.

Man of action, that's what he is, a man of action.

If I'd had a son like him, I could have been somebody.

Thank you, Father. I am sick and tired of Brinsley.

-Do you know what?

-Yes?

He planted out five dozen wallflowers yesterday

in the time it takes me to put me boots on. Marvellous!

All we need now is some sunshine.

Well, Brinsley's just the man for that.

-And we know just which bit it shines out of!

-Language, Timothy!

And you, Father.

-Timothy, move that case. Brinsley might fall over it.

-Might?

Let's make absolutely sure, Mother, and put it in the middle.

-Don't be so babyish. And take your things up to the attic.

-The attic?

-Didn't I tell you? You're in the attic. Brinsley has your room.

-My...

With all my things? I'm getting slung in the attic?

I'm being slung out, Mother, for some fourth-rate, overgrown navvy?

I've got some very, very private things in my room.

If you mean those magazines, I threw them out.

Not that Brinsley needs them. He has plenty of health and plenty of efficiency!

Well, Mother, I'm going down to the pub,

where at least one person may not be talking about Brinsley.

Oh!

Sh... Shanklin!

I remember once - you're not going to believe this -

but he made me eat a conker and told me it would

grow into a big chestnut tree inside me. And I believed him.

He used to roll up bits of barbed wire, put them down my...

Tim, will you stop talking about this Brinsley?

You've been banging on about him for the last half-hour. Give it a rest!

All right, all right. All right!

-Mum's the word.

-Oh, don't talk about her, for pity's sake!

-Frank, would I? Would I?

-You always do.

-All right, all right!

How are things in your neck of the woods, by the way?

Ah, well, as it happens,

I've got a little something for you that could change your life totally.

Not a Brinsley extractor?

A penknife with a thing in it for digging Brinsley out?

No, no, no, not Brinsley!

Look, she's 5'4", Sagittarian and her name's Dawn.

Look, Frank, I don't wish to seem ungrateful, you know,

but I'd like to put this on record - I'd rather, to be honest,

you didn't keep introducing me to girls, if you don't mind.

Well, what do you want? Parrots?

-Remember Deirdre?

-Oh, yes, Deirdre.

-Still, she liked you, though, didn't she?

-Oh, she liked me, yeah.

She liked everybody.

-Well?

-Well, she had a lot of experience, you know.

And let's be frank, Frank, I come along and, you know...

-Comparisons are bound to be made.

-So?

Well, I may not be exactly in the top ten, you see. Or in the first 50.

So what?

I mean, let's face it, Tim, at your age,

the girls that you're likely to socialise with

are not likely to be virgins.

Frank, please, good heavens! I'm not insisting on virgins.

Virgins, hahahah! Sorry, sorry.

Virgins, goodness me! In this day and age, who is?

-Well, I can think of one.

-Who?

-You.

-Oh, Frank, please! Good heavens!

That IS a good one.

Me of all people! PHONE RINGS

-That'll be for me.

-Saved by the bell.

-Thank you, Chris, I'll just take...

-Get off!

-Isn't it for me, then?

-For you? No.

-Sorry.

-That's funny - it isn't Mother. I hope she's all right.

-Oh, God!

Well, I mean, she always rings about this time.

Oh, she will be all right, she's got Brinsley, hasn't she?

Brinsley with the great big gentle hands.

-Timothy Lumsden, I don't believe it!

-Believe what?

-You're jealous!

-Oh, haha!

Your mother likes him better than she likes you and you're jealous!

-Me?

-Yes!

-Her?

-Yes!

-Him!

-Yes!

-Jealous?

Gentlemen, a little less noise, please. Thank you.

-Pathetic! Jealous...

-Yes, it is.

-Very funny idea.

Full marks for a funny idea.

40 years she's been making your life a misery, by your own account.

Now she's making someone else miserable, you can't take it.

-No, you've got to be number one misery guts.

-He's not miserable.

-It's all being done for him. She's got this gingham apron...

-Ohhh!

All right, foolish, you say. She's also had a blue rinse.

I mean, admittedly, she has the odd highlight for my birthday,

but that's all.

It's written all over your face.

Written all over the table as well, you know. He's having very nice food.

Real food, you know what I mean?

Proper eating food, not leftovers or anything like that.

-She likes him better than me, simple as that, Frank.

-Where are you going?

-I'm going home.

-Come home, Oedipus, all is forgiven!

No, no, I have left a case in the middle of the hall

and I would not want Little Lord Brinsley to fall over it,

impaling himself on Father's shooting stick horribly with blood everywhere.

God, if Sigmund Freud could see you now!

I'm going to have it out with Brinsley, that's the only way I...

-Oh, sorry!

-Oh, hello, Dawn! Tim, Dawn, this is Tim Lumsden.

-Hello!

-Hello! I'm sorry, I'm just...

-You're Brinsley's cousin!

That is right, yes. I am Brinsley's cousin.

I am not me, I am Brinsley's cousin.

The good Lord made Brinsley and there was a nasty bit left over

and that happened to be me, yes.

Yes, I am a nobody and he is Mr Wonderful.

However, I am not, erm...

Erm...

A whatyoumacallit...

A thing, erm... Sorry.

Sorry, I've forgotten the word.

A Christian scientist?

No, a virgin.

I'm sorry, I just forgot the word. It's so long since I've been one.

Was that the one you wanted me to meet?

What? Oh, no, no!

PHYLLIS LAUGHS

HE MIMICS THE LAUGH

-Is it nice, Brinsley?

-Mmm!

-Is it very nice?

-Mmm!

Is it very, VERY nice? Oh, there's a little bit on your chin.

Let Mummy do it!

TIMOTHY CLEARS HIS THROAT

Tim! Great! This is fantastic!

I haven't seen you for years, not since you were little.

You haven't changed a bit.

-Hello, Brinsley.

-Brinsley, you haven't had your cheese.

-Cheese!

Your mother is treating me like a king here, Timothy.

You've never seen so much delicious food in your whole life.

That's true, yes.

Is there anything for me, Mother? You know, Timothy, your former son?

Or perhaps I could have some of Brinsley's leftovers,

-these little bits there?

-Brinsley eats everything up, unlike some.

You'll have to see what you can find in the kitchen

and don't bring it in here. It's my ladies' bridge evening.

-This is absolutely delicious, Auntie Phyllis.

-Please, call me Phyllis.

Stop it! Just a minute - Brinsley spoke with his mouth full.

Any time I do that, Mother, I have to eat a second helping.

When Brinsley speaks with his mouth full, I think it's rather manly.

Oh, it isn't fair! That's not fair!

Now, Brinsley, dear, there are eight sorts of chutney

and Aunt Esme's pickled walnuts.

1967, no-one's ever been able to open the jar,

but I'm sure you can, Brinsley, with your hands.

Do you remember my bedroom window that you said was totally stuck?

-Brinsley opened it.

-Thank you very much, Brinsley.

Do you think I might try it?

Tim could have opened that window. It was only stuck with the paint.

Well, it must have moved. I heard a crack.

That was my neck.

-I've done something to it, it's cricked.

-Massage it! Massage!

Brinsley's awfully good at massage.

I know, I know! Get off, please!

Let me try it one more time.

Hrrrrrngh...

Language, Timothy.

Sorry, Father.

I'm sorry, Brinsley. He shows off.

It's just the same when he tries to get the top off his toothpaste.

All right, you try it, Brinsley. Get your great big gentle hands on it.

You're behaving in a most loutish manner. We have a guest!

No, it's no use. Look, Tim, have one last try, come on, but do it gently.

-I'm sure you moved it.

-Gently. I'll try it gently.

I accept the challenge.

Ooh, God! Oh, look!

-Look at that!

-Look what you've done! Get out of this house at once!

-I've got pickled walnuts all over me!

-That's your fault!

-Well...

-I'm sorry.

-No, it's my fault.

I shouldn't have asked for pickled walnuts.

-Tim, I'll buy you a drink at the pub.

-You're not going to the pub.

My bridge ladies are dying to meet you.

Well, I haven't seen my dear old friend Tim for years

and it was just bad luck spilling it, Auntie Phyllis.

He did that on purpose.

Brinsley has been here six whole days and he hasn't spilt a thing.

Nobody's perfect, Mother.

He wants to go to the pub, so he can't be all that perfect.

You don't want to go, do you, Brinsley?

-Well, yes, I would rather like to.

-Hahahahah! Oh!

-I'll get my wallet.

-Wrap up warmly. Don't forget your scarf.

-Yes, I will, Mother.

-I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to Brinsley.

Bye-bye, Mother.

-Language, Timothy!

-Sorry, Father.

-180!

-CHEERING

Oh, blimey, Tim, this Brinsley's good at darts.

Well, he would be, wouldn't he? He's good at everything, isn't he?

He can play Rock Of Ages on his belly button.

-What?

-Standing up in a hammock with roller-skates on. He's a bighead.

Oh, come on, he seems like the nicest chap you could wish to meet.

-He lent you a nice clean shirt.

-Yeah, but look at this.

Too big, isn't it? Look at that!

-It makes me look silly.

-Oh, you're paranoid, you are.

By the way, what are we drinking champagne for?

I was trying to get him drunk,

but it's made absolutely no difference to him whatsoever.

Well, you've had enough.

-I'm all right, I'm walking.

-Not at this rate, you won't be.

PHONE RINGS That'll be Mother.

I'm going to give her what for.

Hello?

This is Brinsley's cousin speaking.

Yes, Mother. Yes. All right, then.

Yes, all right, then.

Brinsley? Brinsley? Phyllis...

Phyllis would like a word with you.

-Or Phyllie...as she's called.

-Right.

Is Brinsley having an affair with your wife?

-He would be if I had one, yes.

-What?

Tell me, Dawn, has anybody ever told you

what a very attractive young lady you are?

-No.

-Well, when this is all over, I very well may.

Oh, really?

Tim, I'm sorry, I've got to get back. Your mother wants me.

-Are you coming?

-Well, I might be coming, I might not.

-Does it really matter in terms of the cosmos?

-Time, gentlemen, please.

Time, thank you, yes. Time, yes, it is indeed time.

Time for me to go...

Time for me... I'm going to emigrate. It is time for me to emigrate.

I'm going to emigrate to Australia.

I'm going to become a flying librarian. And I'm going to...

-When their books are overdue, I'm going to bomb them.

-You're legless.

I'm motherless, hahaha!

The world is my oyster, as long as there isn't an R in the month.

I'm being a flying librarian. Pip-pip-pip-pip...

-You don't think he'll get run over, do you?

-Well, I shouldn't think so.

That's the ladies'.

-Two spades.

-DOOR CLOSES

No, Tim, no!

Timothy! What is the meaning of this? What are you doing?

-Get thee to a nunnery!

-What?!

Frailty, thy name is Phyllis.

Go away. Go and sit in the kitchen with your father.

He's always been highly strung, especially since O Levels.

The toast is Brunsley and Mither.

As I was saying in the pub - oh, you weren't in the pub,

but, of course, that doesn't matter, nobody can be perfect -

I'm going off to be or not to be the Flying Dutchman.

I'm going to fly, do you understand, from library to library

forever and ever until I find eternal love.

Two no trumps.

Thank you for your indulgence.

-Timothy, get up! I know you're awake.

-Oh, Mother...

-My mouth is so dry!

-It's ten to nine and you're not even dressed yet.

-Oh, my God! Yes, I am.

-You went to bed with your clothes on!

I don't remember. My feet are in a bowl.

Mother, I'm standing in a bowl. Why are my feet in a bowl?

Brinsley put it there in case. It was very thoughtful of him.

-And you haven't even used it.

-Oh, no, Brinsley!

I've never been so humiliated in my life.

Your father and I have had a talk.

It's been decided - the extra person will have to go.

Oh, thank goodness for that!

Well, I'm glad you're taking it so well.

-Me? Me go?

-Yes, and the sooner the better!

Brinsley may get a permanent job here.

He doesn't get blotto AND he can afford a decent rent -

so he can have your room.

He likes that bed.

Mother, I'm going to stand up for my ri... Ooh!

Mother, I'm going to have this out with Brinsley face-to-face.

Face-to-face? You'll need something to stand on.

Brinsley!

Stay where you are. Don't run away.

There's something I want to talk to you about.

This has gone on long enough.

Yes, it is a bit cold, isn't it?

Just finishing.

Right. Sorry, Tim.

Now, listen, Brinsley, I don't want any beating about the bush...

-Fancy some hair of the dog?

-No, thank you.

Come on, it'll warm you up a bit.

Tim, I'm a louse.

-What?

-Call me a rat if you like. Or a chicken, that's what I've been.

What do you mean? In some previous life, do you mean?

No, this last week, I've been a rat.

Not with Mother, I hope!

Yes, with your mother, I admit it.

Look, if you hadn't got that thing on your head, mate,

I'd knock your block right off.

I deserve it, I deserve it!

I'm ratting on her. I'm going home today.

What?

Look, she's the best woman in the world,

-but the fact is I cannot stand any more.

-Any more what?

The endless cups of tea, the awful nursery food, the baby talk,

everything cut into soldiers.

And ironing my socks - I mean, what sort of woman irons socks,

for heaven's sake?

Isn't ironing socks at all widespread, then?

I'm saying terrible things about your mother.

I'm sorry, but I'm getting out.

-I thought you were staying forever!

-Ha, she's...

I'm sorry, your mother wouldn't let me alone until I promised,

-but I cannot take any more.

-Any more what?

Look, there is just one thing I want to say to you.

-What?

-You're fantastic.

What? I mean... In what sort of way?

I have been a week with your mother and I am a broken man.

You've had it for 40 years. Are you Superman?

-Well, one does what one can.

-You should get a medal.

I think you're brilliant, magic.

But it's a trick one learns, you know.

-I'm a survivor.

-You're a brick.

Well, half a brick!

I'm glad you came today. I wasn't even going to say goodbye.

I've got all my stuff in the car.

There we are.

Oh, you remember Dawn last night?

Dawn... Dawn, yes! Yes!

As a matter of fact,

I was thinking of trying it on there one of these days.

-She's here.

-Well, thinking about it, you know, theoretically, so to speak.

Hello, Tim!

Hello, Dawn - and goodbye.

-Bye, Tim.

-See you.

Yes, yes. Goodbye!

Brinsley, Brinsley! Hang on a second, sorry!

-What?

-Erm...

You know...the other day when I opened that jar...

-You know, the pickled walnuts?

-Yes?

You didn't...

-loosen the lid, did you, to help me?

-No, of course not!

-Really?

-Scout's honour.

Cheerio, then! On your way. Ha, don't know my own strength!

CAR DRIVES OFF

Well, monarch of all I survey, really.

What a dump!

Hello, Mother!

Father... Ah, hello, Mother.

Don't tell me, don't tell me -

something upsetting on The Archers, eh?

Phil Archer talks about animal husbandry

and Shula comes back from The Bull?

-He's gone.

-What, the bull?

Brinsley. His things have gone.

Oh, cheer up, Mother!

Gone with never a word! How could he?

Not even a note!

Oh, Mother, dear, he had to go, you see, he had to go very quickly.

It was an emergency.

-Where to?

-Well, I don't know, it was all very sort of hush-hush, you know.

He wanted to ring you, I know that, he did want to ring you,

but his phone was out of order, you know,

so he phoned me at the library

and he told me to be sure to say how sorry he was et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

And also to say that he enjoyed every moment he was here.

Did he?

Really?

-Enjoyed every moment?

-Yup, scout's honour, you know.

He quite definitely said that.

He responded to me as a woman, Timothy.

Yes, he said that, too. He made a particular point of that.

-Did he?

-Mmm.

What were his exact words?

Well, he said, erm...

He said, "I responded to her as a woman."

Don't worry, I won't tell Father!

Never mind your father. Oh, I feel so much better!

Now, no more of this silly talk of going to Australia.

No, of course not.

Because you're my firstest and bestest boy, aren't you?

Yes, of course I am.

And now, who's going to get his favourite suppy-wup?

Don't get carried away, Mother.

I'm going to go down the pub later on to have a drink with...

-No pubbies tonight!

-Oh, yes, Mother...

And before his lovely tea, who's going to get a great big kiss?

-Mother, come on!

-Timmykins!

-No, Mother!

Mother!

Come on, Timkins! Timmy! Oh! Timothy, where are you going?

-Leave me, Mother!

-Timothy?

TIMOTHY!

Now, stop!

Mother... Oh!