Patrick Melrose (2018): Season 1, Episode 5 - At Last - full transcript

Mourners are arriving, sir.

Fine.
Let's begin.

I want you...

...to kill me.

Hello, directory enquiries.

Yes, I'd like a number
for an organization, please.

It's called the, um, the
Voluntary Euthanasia Society.

I'm sorry,
you'll have to speak up.

The Voluntary
Euthanasia Society.

I'm sorry, Mr. Melrose,
we can't help.

We're a campaign group.



- It's about changing the law.
- Really?

But I mean,
voluntary euthanasia,

it sounds so hopeful.

Directory enquiries.
How can I help you?

Yes, I'd like an
international number, please.

Switzerland.

Dignitas.

And what kind of organization
are they?

- What... What does it do?
- Well, they...

I'll spell it for you.

Suicide stems from a disease,

a disease
we now call depression,

and that's what
we should be treating.

She can't move or speak
or control herself.



Depression isn't a disease, it's
an entirely reasonable response.

Quite frankly, it's cheerfulness
that would take some explaining.

When people are depressed,
we give them antidepressants.

She's on them.

They gave a certain enthusiasm
for her loathing of life.

That's when she asked me
to kill her.

Do you know,
it can be a great privilege

to work with the dying.

I don't think she's gonna start
working with the dying, do you?

And if you mean
it's your great privilege,

it's her quality of life
I'm concerned with.

I... I want
"Swiss-land."

That's what we're looking into.

Dr. Fenelon is here.

Do you remember,
our family doctor?

Hello, Eleanor.

So I'm going to take a look
at you and ask a few questions.

Please don't tell him...

...that my mother was...

...a duchess.

I won't breathe a word.

"I can hardly move.

I am bedridden and incontinent

and feel uninterrupted anguish
at my own uselessness.

There is no prospect
of improvement,

and I can already feel
my faculties betraying me.

I do not look on death
with fear, but with longing.

Please help me to escape the
daily torture of my existence.

Yours sincerely."

Do you think that's fair?

Is... Is that
a fair description?

Yes.

Do you want to sign?

Sign.

Thank you so much
for doing all of this.

It's really not
your responsibility anymore.

You're welcome.

- So...
- An orphan at last!

It's what I always dreamed of.

After all this time,
I feel complete.

I hope
that's not your speech.

Ah, well, my speech...

Because it is printed
in the order of service.

I know.

- I can't do that for you.
- I wouldn't ask you to.

So you've written one?

I thought it'd probably
be better to improvise,

speak from the heart.

- Is that a good idea?
- With my heart?

There'll probably be
a stampede for the exit.

Surprised to see me?

I've become
rather a memorial creeper.

One's bound to at my age.

It's no use sitting at home

guffawing over the mistakes
of ignorant obituarists.

Thank you.

No, one has to
"celebrate the life"...

There goes the school tart.

They say he had a good war,
but I know better!

Of course I'm not
saying it's not all very moving.

Thinly attended.

Are those
your mother's religious friends?

What color would you call that?
Aubergine?

Forgive me, Nicholas,
I really must talk to...

Try not to be bitter
about the money.

One or two of my friends

who've made a mess
of that side of things

have ended up dying
in National Health wards,

and I must say
I've been very impressed

by the humanity
of the mainly foreign staff.

Mind you, what else
is there to do with money

but spend it when you have it
and be bitter when you don't?

I suppose what I'm saying is,
do be bitter about the money.

After all, what is it now,

six generations with
every single descendant

essentially idle?

It must be rather thrilling
for you and your children,

after such a long exemption
from competition,

to get really stuck in.

Goodbye, Nicholas.

And you mustn't feel guilty
about feeling pleased.

If ever there was
a merciful release,

it was in the case
of your poor mother.

Eleanor, it's time to go.

The flight leaves at 3:00.

D-Do nothing.
Noth...

What was that?

Do... Do nothing.

No go.

You mean
you've changed your mind?

No "Swiss-land."

I'm entitled to feel
a little ambiguous about this,

don't you think?

I mean,
she asked me to organize this...

the doctors,
the letter of consent,

manipulated me, turned her
death into this passion project,

and now she changes her mind?

I think she's frightened.

She doesn't want to
do it herself.

She wants someone else
to do it for her.

Oh, believe me,
I'm sorely tempted.

Why isn't there a bar in this
place? It would make a fortune.

- C-Come... Come and talk to her.
- What's the point?!

If she ever had anything
meaningful to say to me,

it's too late now.

Were you thinking
about Eleanor?

Annette.
We met in France, remember?

Yes. I hope you're enjoying
my family home.

Oh, we are!

Seamus sends his love.

Oh, he's in
your old bedroom now.

Oh.

He really wanted to be here,

but he's still
writing his book.

How are you taking all this?

I was thinking how life
is just the history of things

we pay attention to.

The rest is just packaging.

Maya Angelou
says the meaning of life

is the impact
we have on other people.

You know, whether we make them
feel good or not.

Eleanor always made people
feel good.

- I might put that in my speech.
- You should.

My gift to you.

I tell you
who loves Maya Angelou

is that old man over there
with the stick.

Do tell him.
His name's Nick.

Will do.

Hello!
You must be Nick.

Patrick, of all the days
to have a funeral.

It's Prince Charles' wedding!

Well, feel free to pop down
with your cardboard periscope

and a plastic Union Jack if you
think it'd be more entertaining.

All right?

Lovely venue.

Yes, I'm thinking of
getting cremated here myself.

Well, no need to rush.

I was going to wait
until I die.

Mm.
How are you bearing up?

Weirdly elated.

I think my mother's death

is the best thing
to have happened to me since,

well, my father's death.

I'm sure it's a little
more complicated than that.

- You're the psychiatrist.
- Psychotherapist.

Oh, whatever.

What utter, utter nonsense.

Oh, Christ, Nicholas Pratt.

...these words...
"Goodbye, old thing.

One of us was bound to die first
and I'm delighted it was you!"

That's my spiritual practice,
and you're welcome to put it

in your hilarious
"spiritual tool box."

Isn't he hysterical?

What he doesn't realize is that
we live in a loving universe,

and it loves you too, Nick!

My dear, I never thought
I'd be so pleased to see you.

Nicholas, who are
these peculiar people,

and why are they here?

Zealots, Moonies, witch doctors.

Avoid eye contact,
stick close to me,

and we may live
to tell the tale.

And who is he?

He wouldn't be anybody

if he wasn't
my daughter's psychoanalyst.

As it is, he's a fiend!

We can start
when you're ready, sir.

- 10 minutes.
- 10 minutes?

Well, there are people
still arriving.

Just in time.

We're about to kick off,

if that's the, uh,
phrase I'm looking for.

It's not.

Been a long time.

Almost a year.

Is it true
you've given up drinking again?

Yes, that's all over.

Congratulations.
It must be hard just now.

Not at all.
A crisis demands a hero.

The ambush happens
when things are going well.

- Or so I'm told.
- Still not given up irony, then?

Hardest addiction of all.

Forget heroin. That need
to mean two things at once...

I'm having enough trouble
wearing nicotine patches

and smoking at the same time.

Don't take my irony! Leave me
with a little sarcasm!

Sarcasm doesn't count.
That only means one thing.

Quality freak.

We'd better go inside.

Apparently the corpses
are piling up.

Very exciting.
Who's on the bill?

I have no idea.

- Mary's organized it.
- Adorable.

More like a mother
than your own mother, really.

She was,
until she had her own children,

and that rather blew my cover.

Still, real or not real,

I have to burn the remains of
the only mother I'll ever have.

It's good to see you again.

I wasn't sure I would.

You're not really
gonna live here, are you?

I'm trying to think of it
as my bachelor pad.

It's the kind of place
people come to kill themselves.

Yes. The thought
had crossed my mind.

Don't! Be serious.

Christ, it's all so bleak.

Oh, I'm sorry,

squalor is not an aphrodisiac,
not at our age.

I can't come here again.

No, I don't think you should.

Robert?
What are you doing in there?

Hello.

Shh-shh.
I didn't hear you.

Come here.

- What's going on?
- Picking up a few things.

How are you?

Robert, will you take
Thomas upstairs, please?

We haven't seen each other,
Robert. How are you?

Are you well? How's school?
Where is Thomas?

Now, please.

I'll come up and say goodbye.

Just a few bits and bobs,
if that's all right, you know?

Just a...

...few family heirlooms,

brighten up the bachelor pad
a bit.

Fine, take what you want.

And you can go back
to your flat. Pass out there.

But I don't want the children
to see you in this state.

Oops.

Don't worry about the lamp.
I'll buy you a new bloody lamp.

Leave it and go home!

Home!

How sweet of you
to think of it as my home.

I am not in the happy position
of having a home.

Christ, this is hell!
This is like being in hell!

You! You of all people
should know this is intolerable!

You know,
"The service is intolerable"?

"The noise is intolerable"?

Well, this... this is
fucking intolerable!

I am not Eleanor,
and I will not stand by

and watch this disgusting,
pitiful spectacle

of you destroying yourself.

And I certainly won't let
the boys watch it either.

It's too much.

And it's gone on for too long.

If you really are determined
to drink yourself to death,

now you have a flat
to go and do it in.

Daddy?

Oh, God.

You're undergoing
delirium tremens.

Do you know what that is,
Mr. Melrose?

It rings a bell.

Then you'll know what to expect.

Shaking, sweating.

Maybe some hallucinations.

We'll get you something
to stabilize your heart,

stop you having seizures.

I'm going to die.

- You are not going to die.
- I don't mind.

I want to die.
I want to die. I want to die.

I want to die.

♪ When I die I want you to dress
me in straight-lace shoes ♪

♪ A box-back coat
and a Stetson hat ♪

♪ Put a $20 gold piece
on my watch chain ♪

Oh, Christ.
It's the Spiritual Tool Box.

What a great choice for Eleanor.

And a fitting reminder, too, of
her incredibly strong connection

with the African-American
people.

All of you will have known
Eleanor here today,

and if my Eleanor is not yours,

then all I can say is...

...let her in.

Let her in.

I first met Eleanor
when a group of us

from the Dublin Women's
Healing Drum Circle

traveled down to her
wonderful house in Provence,

which many of you know well.

When we arrived,

we saw her sitting on the wall
of the terrace,

hands tucked under her thighs,

looking for all the world
like a lonely young child

dreaming of the future.

Soon she had flung wide her arms
to welcome us,

but I never forgot

that first impression
of her childlike innocence.

I can never forget
he's David's son.

Does he remind you of him?

In flashes.

When he's angry
or sarcastic.

Which thankfully
is less often now.

Hmm.

Does he talk to you about him?

I don't think his father
haunts him the way he once did.

"Haunts..."

- Ahh!
- I'm gonna catch you!

I'm gonna catch you!

May I show you something
in private?

I get an awful lot of letters,

usually people asking
for a helping hand.

and I give it if I can,
but this is something different.

She stayed here as a child.

She seems deeply damaged.

Yes.

I mean, clear... clearly she's
a very unhappy woman...

the alcohol, the depression.

But, honestly,
to lay this at my door.

- Do you remember her?
- Of course!

The family were charming.

She was a bright and happy
little girl.

David could be harsh, but
the children were always safe.

He was better with children,

playful even, as long as
they weren't too noisy.

All I know is the family
seemed very happy.

They... They told me
they'd had a lovely time.

She says your husband
interfered with her.

But how could he?

I mean, it was inconceivable.

Literally inconceivable.

- No suspicions?
- No.

- No signs?
- None at all.

And t-that's what makes me
so angry.

"I forgive you."

She forgives me
for not protecting her.

But how could I?
From what?

I mean, this is behavior
I didn't even know existed.

Here we go.

You mustn't mention
a word of this.

It will only unsettle him,

all this talk
of blame and forgiveness.

I know what a tyrant
his father could be,

but I did my best...

my very, very best...
to protect our son.

Are you awake?

The things you told me
when we met,

about your father...

What's brought this on?

We have to
talk about them again.

Well, I don't think I have
anything further to add, so...

I think
you should tell your mother.

I'm sorry. I know it's hard.

I know you don't want to.

- Well, why, then?
- Because...

She can't keep hiding.

"When I was a child

I spake as a child.

I understood as a child.

When I became a man,
I put away childish things.

For now I see through a glass,
darkly.

But then, face to face,
now I know in part..."

Christ, not this old chestnut.

Who's on next?

- Patrick.
- "..and now abideth faith,

hope, love, these three.

But the greatest of these
is love."

Lovely spot.

It is.

Mind if I join?

Please.

I've been trying out

different combinations of words,
and none of them are right,

so perhaps
if I don't think too much

and just come out with it.

When we were here...

When I was a child
and we used to come here,

and for some years afterwards...

...Father used...

He used to rape me.

Me too.

Me too.

Um, I... I haven't prepared,
um, a speech.

As you'll s-see.

Um...

A lot has been said today
about my mother's innocence

and how childlike she...

All I know is that
when I was a child...

...when my father was...

Why didn't she...

Why... Why couldn't...
Why couldn't she...

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, I-I can't do this.

I can't.

I swear,
if I hear one more person

telling me how innocent
she was...

She might not have been,
but even so...

Please, Mary, no.
Don't try to make things better.

No, no, no. Stop!
This is not grief or mourning.

This is rage.
My heart is racing with it.

She knew!
She must have known.

Surely she must have,
even subconsciously.

She knew what he was like,
and yet she failed to do

the one thing
that she was obliged to do,

to protect her son!

Christ knows I've been
a fucking useless father

and a useless husband,
and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

But if I thought someone
was gonna harm our children,

I would fight.

Even I would do
whatever it takes

because if you love someone,
you protect them.

But my mother?

Christ, no wonder
he stuck with her!

All those children around

and a... a son
thrown into the bargain.

He couldn't
believe his fucking luck!

Years and years
and years of it,

doing whatever he wanted,
whenever he wanted.

Nobody should do that
to anybody else.

No.

Oh!

Christ, Mary.

I thought I was getting better,
but I'm such a fucking mess.

How often would you say
you have suicidal thoughts?

When I was younger,
it was all the time.

I never questioned it.

But then when we had the boys,

it was more of a whisper...

on a quiet coastal path,

in the chemist...

...driving on the motorway.

And now?

I look at the window

and wonder whether this floor
is high enough.

Are you gonna be all right?

Let's find out.

- Daddy!
- Thomas!

Hah!

Hello, how are you?
How's your other granny?

- The same.
- Patrick!

After the disinheritance,

it would have been hypocritical
of me to go to the funeral.

But the party's
a different matter.

I want to support you!

Of course it helps with it being
just around the corner.

Patrick, what an unusual speech.
So eloquent.

And how thrilling
to be introduced,

at my advanced age,
to a new club.

The Onslow Club. Heh, I've
never heard it mentioned.

- Is this your eldest?
- Yes. Robert.

What a pity David isn't here
to enjoy your sons.

He would at least have ensured

that they didn't spend the whole
day in front of the television.

Heh, I vividly remember, when
we had once seen some children

practically give birth
to a cathode ray tube,

he said to me, "I dread to think

what all that radiation is doing
to their little genitals."

Robert, why don't you run ahead
and find your mother?

How's your daughter, Nicholas?

Well, I presume.

We've, uh, not spoken for years.

I can't help thinking
how much your father

would have savored
this occasion.

Whatever his drawbacks
as a parent,

he never lost
his sense of humor.

Easy not to lose
what you never had.

Oh, I disagree. He saw
the funny side in everything.

He only ever saw the funny side
of things that didn't have one.

Cruelty and laughter have always
been close neighbors.

Close without being incestuous.

Your father had a rare
and precious disdain

for the opinions
of most people...

Nicholas, I understand
how much you must miss

my other amazing parent,
but if you'll forgive me,

I have to deal with the people
who have come here

to mourn my mother.

Are you all right there, Nick?

Did you get yourself
in a bit of a muddle?

Do not call me Nick!

- Excuse me.
- I can't breathe.

It feels like
someone's squeezing my throat.

To see that... To see that ghoul
Nicholas Pratt,

my father's representative
on Earth, touching Robert...

I can't be in the same room.

- Wine or champagne?
- Oh, God!

He means no, thank you.

- Maybe later.
- Very much later.

- Oh, have some water.
- Christ. I know her.

It's Amitriptyline.
What the fuck is she doing here?

- Who?
- No. No, no, no.

I need to get some fresh air.

I'm going to go
for a walk 'round the block.

The thing is, I absolutely
loathe my children.

They're monsters.
They're complete horrors.

And of course
I've played my part.

I lay in bed for 10 months.

I didn't utter
a single syllable.

And when I did start,
I couldn't stop

because it had all
just piled up.

I-I woke up next morning
in the guest room,

and there was excrement,
human excrement,

smeared all over
the hand-painted wallpaper.

It took me a while to realize
that it was mine.

I think we need to be aware
of the alcoholic

behind the alcohol.

You can take the brandy
out of the fruitcake,

but you've still got
the fruitcake.

- I don't think you can.
- What?

Take the brandy
out of the fruitcake.

Same as you can't take eggs
out of a soufflé.

- Well, it's only a metaphor.
- Only a metaphor!

- Patrick...
- But it doesn't work.

Could we move on?
Please?

Becky. Self-harming
resistant depressive.

Patrick. Narcissistic schizoid
suicidal alcoholic.

How many types of medication
do they have you on?

Three. Two antidepressants
and a tranquillizer.

- I'm on eight.
- Then I suppose you win.

I think a lot of my relationship
problems stem from the fact

that the person I'm having
a relationship with

doesn't know
we're in a relationship.

Fuck, Jill!

No wonder you're here
for the ninth time.

You're going to have to
apologize for that.

Why?
I meant it.

That's why
you have to apologize.

But I wouldn't mean it
if I apologized.

Fake it to make it, man.

Fake it to make it.

Fuck!

Patrick!

I was looking for you.

- They're throwing me out.
- Really?

They say
I'm a disruptive influence,

I don't contribute.

Of course I don't fucking
contribute. I'm depressed.

Fuck,
I hate this fucking place.

Rebecca...

I can't go back to my parents.

This is my sister's address.

She's away,
so I'll be there alone.

Miss Owen.
Now, please.

Come and find me.

Well done.
You came back.

Oh, I still want to leave.

I want to leave
with that waitress over there.

Christ, look at her.

Do you think if I told her
it was my mother's funeral

and I needed cheering up...

She might be the one
to save you?

It's worth a try.

Patrick, it turns out

Fleur is an old friend
of your mother's.

Yes, actually,
we've met before.

Your mother saved my life.

Really?

She gave me a job

in one of the charity shops
she ran.

And that is where
I had one of my episodes.

We'd had a fur coat in
that morning.

It was an amazing sable coat.

And I put it on,
emptied the till, shut the shop,

hailed a cab, and I said,
"Take me to the Ritz!"

And I sat in the Palm Court
drinking champagne cocktails.

I was talking to anyone
who would listen.

And eventually the police
were summoned,

and I had no one to call on
but your mother,

and I promised
I'd never do it again.

I mean, I did.
Many, many times.

But you should be
very proud of her.

She did an enormous amount
of practical good.

And she's touched
hundreds of lives.

Very good of you
to let me know. Thank you.

So, do you?

Do... Do I what?

Do you feel proud
of your mother?

I'm really not sure.

You're not sure?

Well, you're worse
than my children.

Sorry,
I really ought to circulate.

Absolute bastards!

All of you.

So, what did the lunatic
have to say?

She suggested
there's no easy conclusion

about what
someone's life means.

You can come to a conclusion
about what it means to you.

Actually, I feel inconclusive
about both my parents.

Sounds exhausting.

Isn't it easier
just to loathe their guts?

Yes, I tried that
with my father.

No good.

Truth is, I feel everything...

contempt, pity, rage, terror.

And tenderness.

Tenderness?

At the thought of how unhappy
he was, they both were.

And then of course I remember
I have sons of my own,

and the loathing floods back.

Well, I hate bereavement.
Plays havoc with your eyeliner.

I didn't realize my mother
meant so much.

Oh, it's nothing to do
with her.

It's just the way
tears spring on you

at a funeral or a silly film.

Not brought on
by the thing that triggers them,

just from a generalized sadness,
I suppose.

Sometimes the trigger and
the sadness are the same thing.

Occasionally.

Oh, Christ,
I wonder what it would be like

to have an unconditioned
response about something,

anything,
without irony and detachment.

Just to be spontaneous,
to feel something.

Well, it's no use asking me.

No.

Sorry, um, you can't
actually smoke out here.

Really?
I didn't know.

It's funny
because it is outside.

I-It's technically
still part of the club,

and, uh, there's no smoking
anywhere in the club, so...

Well, I'd better
put it out, then.

Uh, no, I-let me.

- I'm so sorry about that.
- It's okay.

I'm used to it.

Excuse me?
Hello. Sorry.

Um, I-I just...
I wondered if I could, um...

Tea or coffee?

Actually, no,
it's something else.

Um...

I just... Would you mind, uh,
if I took your number?

Oh, Christ.

Hello.

- Are you leaving?
- Shh.

Oh, I must say,
I don't envy you.

I love it here. It gets me away
from my awful children.

The little shits.
I loathe them.

Do you have children yourself?

Actually, I'm sorry,
I'm trying to...

Well, if I have one word
of advice, it's this...

amitriptyline.

The only time I've ever
been happy was on it.

But these bastards
won't give me any.

The thing is, I'm trying
not to take anything, so...

Don't be ridiculous.
It's the most marvelous drug.

Amitriptyline!

I know it's...

I'd expected more people.
She was very well loved.

Well, she lost touch with people
when she stopped speaking.

It must have been terrible
for her,

not to be able to say
what she wanted to,

especially to Patrick.

That's why we must all resolve
to drop our defenses

and say what we feel
while we can.

Mummy!

At this point
the English usually say,

"Well, this is
a cheerful subject!"

I see you two
are still glued to each other.

Well, no one can hope
to ignore their children

as completely as you did.

Mary!

You go and find Robert,
darling.

We always communicated!

Do you remember
what you said to me

when you telephoned me at school
to say Daddy had died?

Well, I said how awful it was.

"Cheer up," you said.
"Cheer up"!

You never had any idea
who I was then

and you still don't now.

How are you, dear?

Well.

Considering I've just had my
head bitten off by my daughter.

Has she had
mental health problems?

I beg your pardon?

Have you
had mental health problems?

Have we met?

Well, I just have
a feeling for these things.

So have you?

No, I have not had
mental health problems.

Even in this degenerate age
of confession and complaint,

when the vocabulary
of Freudian mumbo-jumbo

is emptied
onto every conversation

like vinegar onto a newspaper
full of sodden chips,

some of us choose
not to tuck in!

As if it weren't
ludicrous enough

that every child
must be gifted,

they now have to be ill
as well.

A touch of Asperger's,
some autism.

Dyslexia stalks the playground!
Poor little things.

If they can't confess
to being abused,

they must confess
to being abusive.

Well, my dear...

I call you "my dear" from
what is no doubt known as

"sincerity deficit disorder"...

no, I have never suffered

the slightest taint
of mental illness

because I am the impossible man,
the man who is entirely well!

Psychotherapists scatter
in my presence...

You are completely
off your rocker.

I thought as much.

...ashamed of
their sham profession.

Bugger off!

A month in the clinic

will do you the power of good
because it will reclothe you

in your rightful mind.

♪ Oh, the Father of mankind ♪

- ♪ Forgive our foolish ways ♪
- Is everything all right?

Oh, God.
Here he is!

Like an exhibit
in a courtroom drama.

A practicing witch doctor,

a man happy to turn my daughter
against her own father,

inventing repulsive fantasies,

polluting human imagination

with murderous babies

and incestuous...

Well, he has got himself
all worked up.

I'll call an ambulance.

Hoist with his own petard,
as they say.

Oh, God, that would
really finish me off.

Is she praying?

That's nice of her.

Return to the mother
of all things.

Return to the mother...

Johnny.

Say goodbye
to your father for me.

Pat... Pat...

Pat...

Pat... Pat...

Pat...

Heart attack, apparently.

You can tell
by the cold nose.

I'll go with him
to the hospital.

What an emotional day!

Don't worry, Nick.
I won't leave your side.

I must go.
I've a patient at 4:00.

- Thank you.
- Well done.

For what?
The public breakdown?

In the trade, it's what
we'd call a breakthrough.

Yes, well,
without getting Californian...

...I'm grateful.

Are you coming back with us?

You'd be very welcome.

No, I'll see you
at the weekend. Come here.

See you at the weekend.

You could just come back and
have some dinner, just us four.

Very quiet.

No, I think I'll crash out
'cause it's been a long day.

Well,
if you change your mind...

Thank you.

In fact,
you should change your mind.

That's what it's for.

"And now I keep thinking
I'm a moth."

"Very interesting,"
says the psychiatrist.

"What made you come here today?"

"Well," he says,
"I saw the light in the window."

Very good.

Do you specialize in these jobs

because of
your sunny disposition?

You say that,
but last year, for four months,

I literally
couldn't get out of bed.

- Couldn't see the point.
- Mm.

Oh, well,
I'm sorry to hear that.

Believe me, Mr. Melrose,

in a month's time
you'll look back and think,

"What was all the fuss about?
What was I thinking?"

That's what happened to me,
anyway.

Is this it, then?

Very nice.

They'll be pleased
to get their dad back.

- Who?
- The kids.

Good luck with it, mate.

Actually, I know this
might sound a bit crazy,

for want of a better word,
but could you take me back?

To the hospital?

Don't think I'm quite ready.

Fuckin' hell.
You people.

Fear knocked on the door.

Courage opened the door.

And there was nobody there.

Please, carry on.

Bravo.

Come on, come on.

- Hello?
- Patrick?

Hello?
Patrick, is that you?

- Yes.
- Annette here.

I'm afraid
I've rather bad news.

Nicholas didn't make it.

He stopped breathing
in the ambulance.

- Oh, Patrick, are you crying?
- No, no, I'm just out of breath.

Though, of course,
I'm also very sad.

- Amazing man. Completely unique.
- Let's hope so.

The idea of a whole village
full of Nicholas Pratts

is rather terrifying.

Patrick?

I'm sorry.
it's only just occurred to me.

He was the... the last one.

Last of my parents' circle.

They're all gone now.

- Oh! Now you're making me cry.
- Oh, really, there's no need.

Thank you for what you said
at the funeral too.

It was helpful to have
another point of view.

She might not have been
the perfect mother.

That must anger you.

But sometimes those
who deserve the most blame

also deserve
the most compassion.

Goodbye, Patrick.

Patrick?

Patrick, where are you?

Helene.

Hello?

Oh, hello,
it's Patrick here.

Hello.

I've decided
I'm bored of ghosts.

I want to see people instead.

I see.

Okay...

Or is it too late
to change my mind?

Not at all.

After all,
that's what it's for.

The boys will be delighted
to see you.

I'm going to the bathroom.

Well, don't be long.

Patrick?

Patrick, where are you?

Patrick!

Come and sit here.

No.

- Beg pardon?
- No.

I won't do
what you say anymore.

Patrick.

Don't talk like that
to your dear old dad.

It's wrong.
You're wrong.

Nobody should do that
to anybody else.

Right.

Yeah.

♪ Tender is the night ♪

♪ Lying by your side ♪

♪ Tender is the touch ♪

♪ Of someone
that you love too much ♪

♪ Tender is the day ♪

♪ The demons go away ♪

♪ Lord, I need to find ♪

♪ Someone who can heal my mind ♪

♪ Come on, come on, come on ♪

♪ Get through it ♪

♪ Come on, come on, come on ♪

♪ Love's the greatest thing ♪

♪ Come on, come on, come on ♪