The Duchess of Duke Street (1976–1977): Season 2, Episode 12 - The Legion of the Living - full transcript

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MAJOR, VOICE-OVER:
And so, my dear Mary,

don't expect us home as planned,

for, alas,

Harrogate...
still holds us fast.

MAJOR, VOICE-OVER: We
can do nothing now but wait,

and Mrs. Trotter
is either silent

or wonderfully short-tempered.

She has already offended
most of our fellow guests

by failing to recognize them.

Good afternoon.



MAJOR, VOICE-OVER:
But let me explain.

On our arrival last week,

Mrs. Trotter was all
nervous impatience

to see the village
as soon as possible,

if not sooner.

WOMAN: There we are, madam.

There we are.

Smells damp.

Damp? It does not.

Though I'll grant you,

Mrs. Richards doesn't do

half of what she should.

Always makes excuses.

Always says she feels poorly.



Must think I'm gormless.

It's very good of you, Mrs. Ord,

to let me in like this,

especially considering
how we parted.

Oh!

MRS. ORD: Whatever is it?

A moth. Blooming great thing.

A moth? Damp?

There's no moth in here, madam.

Mrs. Ord, do you
remember an inlaid box

Lord Haslemere used
to keep here on his desk?

I do.

Do you know where it is?

He wanted me to have it.

Well, I don't know
about that. I...

I don't like folk
rummaging about in here.

Charles wouldn't
like it neither.

Folk poking about in here

behind his back.

To tell truth, I...

I don't like coming
here much meself,

not now that it's empty.

It's been an empty house

for years now, madam.

Saddest thing of all

is an empty house.

Well, I'll look out
that box for you.

I must have tidied it
away somewhere actually.

Ah, that's...

VICAR: Dear, oh dear.
She's done it again.

Nanny, you left the
keys in the door again,

you batty old thing.

You coming to the service?

No. I never

go to church nowadays.

Yes, I'm aware of that,

but the memorial
service is rather special,

and it does all take
place out-of-doors.

I wouldn't be seen dead

at no memorial service.

I noticed you came to church

when the visiting
minister was here.

And I didn't like his sermon

no more than I like yours.

Ever the heart of gold.

This is even more
splendid than I'd imagined.

Don't mind me, gentlemen.

Nothing I like
more than neglect.

Mrs. Trotter!

I so hoped we should
see you here today.

It's good to see you, Vicar.

Mr. Enfield, meet a
long-lost friend of mine...

Mrs. Louisa Trotter.

Mr. Enfield is the
executor of Charles' estate.

But no doubt you've already
communicated by letter.

I believe we have, yes.

The pleasure is all mine.

Not quite all of it, I hope.

Oh, I've let Nanny go
off with the keys again.

I intended you to
have them, Mr. Enfield.

Though heaven knows

what sort of personal
insult she'll make of it.

Her opinion of you

don't seem to
have changed, then.

No. She helps me
out at the vicarage

now that her duties have
ended here, you know,

but I can't pretend she
does it with much enthusiasm.

But then over the years, Nanny
has become-what shall I say-

a little absent-minded.

One of the facts of life
she consistently overlooks

is Lord Haslemere's death.

Let me offer you some
coffee at the vicarage.

We've still more than an
hour before the service.

Thank you, Vicar.

Mr. Enfield?

Thank you.

Lord Henry Norton,
Charlie's uncle,

whom I believe you
know, Mrs. Trotter,

is my guest for the day.

Ooh, yeah, I'll say I know him.

That was me first job -

assistant cook in
the old boy's kitchens.

No wonder he remembers you.

He's here to do the
honors for us today,

standing in for the real heir,

who's still grazing innocently

in some foreign pasture.

Where is the lad, Mr. Enfield?

Canada, so far as we know.

I noan ask for pleasure.

TOGETHER: I noan ask for ease,

for brass nor fine victuals,

I noan ask for these.

I nobbut want work
for to keep me from sin,

and I'd like some fine day

me own fireside to win

and a husband to
come from his work

to his tea.

TOGETHER: 2 chairs
by the hearthstone

make heaven for me.

Come on.

ENFIELD: Well, I
sympathize with Mrs. Ord

and her selective amnesia.

If only more of
us could share it.

Forget the
unpleasant things, eh?

I take it you mean
forget especially the

thousands of Yorkshire
men lost in the war,

and be properly
grateful for our survivors.

Something like that.

But it's asking the impossible,
isn't it, to be valued for living

when there are so many
more to adore for having died?

You have to be more than dead

to be adored, Mr. Enfield.

You think so?

I only know that the
men who came back

want to forget,

whilst those who stayed at home

seem determined to
make us remember.

It struck me as
an amusing irony,

that's all.

NORTON: Well, my boy.

I enjoy a good memorial service,

or a good funeral, come to that.

It's my belief you have to mourn

before you can forget.

I'm sure. But I know
what Mr. Enfield means.

We do still tend to glamorize

the whole wretched,
sordid business.

But I miss Charles.

When his wife
died so tragically,

we spent a lot of
time together, he and I.

I remember thinking,

"You're still a
young man, Charles.

Get up and make another life."

But I never seemed to
be able to help him much.

Perhaps, the place...

I believe you've succeeded
where I failed, Mrs. Trotter.

And then war was declared.

I never saw him again.

I suppose I felt a
particular sympathy

with Charles after
Margaret's death.

My own wife died, you know,

whilst we were still very young.

All that rubbish about marriage,

you don't really
think that's right,

do you?

I don't know. I wouldn't
mind getting married.

But we don't need
men anymore, Liz.

We've got the vote.

Not women like us,
though, have we?

Oh, Liz.

Come on, Lottie.

We're going to be late.

NORTON: Now, my boy, I'm sure

your eyesight is
keen as a hawk's.

Tell me, do I intend to say

"It is my very
considerable honor,"

Or do I intend to say

"It is consequently my honor"?

You have "It is my very
considerable honor this day."

Ah! "This day."

A fancy bit of drawing, Vicar.

Oh, yes. That's
Lottie Richards' work.

You probably remember the child.

Dirty cheeky little
monkey she was

when you were last here.

Well, I never. Yes,
I remember her.

She comes to me for
the odd class in botany,

music, that sort of thing -

- bright, lively sort of child.

To tell the truth,
Vicar, Charlie asked me

to keep an eye
on Lottie Richards,

now he's gone and
her father's dead.

I must have a talk to
you about her sometime.

Charlie always did have
a soft spot for the kid.

Yes, I remember,

which is why I've taken a
special interest in her myself.

Tell me, Mrs. Trotter,

what does it mean to keep
an eye on Lottie Richards?

Well, now, I think it
means just what I decide

Charlie would have
wanted it to mean.

Forgive me, but I
must go and get ready.

So, you was never tempted
to marry again, Vicar?

No.

Losing Carry rather
took the heart out of me.

Although it used
to be a great sorrow

to me that I had no sons,

now I thank God I
had none to lose.

Let us commemorate and commend

to the living memory
of our heavenly father,

the shepherd of souls,

the giver of
life everlasting,

those who died in the Great War

for our country

and its cause.

May we especially remember

the men of this
village who fell,

whose absence is
felt by all of us here,

and most acutely

by their loved ones.

Samuel Richard Ayscough,

Joseph Markham Ayscough,

William Dodds Bell,

James Phillip Courtney,

William Clarence Courtney,

Joseph Courtney,

John Stanley Richards,

Gerrard Thirkell,

Charles Wyndham
Tyrrell, Viscount Haslemere.

They shall grow not old,

as we that are left grow old.

Age shall not weary them,

nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun

and in the morning,

we will remember them.

NORTON: It is my very
considerable honor this day

to unveil the memorial stone,

which the people of this village

have erected in loving
and grateful memory

of those men who never
returned from the war.

The legion of the living

salutes the legion of the dead.

We will not break faith with ye.

ALL: ♪ Abide with me; ♪

♪ fast falls the eventide; ♪

♪ The darkness deepens; ♪

♪ Lord, with me abide. ♪

♪ When other helpers fail ♪

♪ and comforts flee, ♪

♪ Help of the helpless, ♪

♪ Lord, abide with me. ♪

♪ Swift to its close ♪

♪ ebbs out life's little day; ♪

♪ Earth's joys grow dim; ♪

♪ its glories pass away...; ♪

Mrs. Trotter!

Mrs. Trotter!

Uh, Mrs. Trotter,

I don't expect you remember me.

Yeah. Last time I saw you,

mucky little thing only
come up to me waist.

You've changed a darn
sight more than I have.

Yeah, I remember you.

Major, meet Miss
Lottie Richards.

Charmed to meet you, my dear.

Where's your mum?

Oh, mum don't like
this sort of thing.

Makes her cry.

She's a captivating
child, Louisa.

So you keep saying, Major.

And she seems happy enough.

That child's the sort
to land on her feet

in a bloody whirlwind.

Even got the vicar
busy improving her mind.

Has she, now?

A child of remarkable
perception, then, too.

Yes.

You old codgers
are all the same.

She's young, she's
pretty, and she knows it.

She's the sort that
only has to smile

to get away with anything.

That's what Nanny
said about Charlie.

Are you not
feeling well, Louisa?

Ah, just tired. That's all.

Been feeling like a
bloody ghost all day...

Standing by Charlie's grave,

tiptoeing around that

dead, empty house,

putting on a show
at the memorial.

I don't belong here. Never did.

Did Charlie and I really think

we could get married
and live up here,

cock a snook at all them

toffee-nosed county ladies?

Ah, none of it's real no more.

I don't know, Major. What
the hell am I going to do now?

What about, my dear?

That "Captivating
child," as you call her.

Why? What are you up to, Louisa?

I never showed you

Charlie's last
letter to me, did I?

Here. Read that bit at
the bottom of the page.

"And then there's the question
of our daughter, Louisa..."

Speak up, Major.

You can do better
than that, can't you?

"Now that dear old
Will Richards is dead,

"I worry about her.

"Elsie never was the most
reliable of women, you know.

"Look into Lottie's
situation, will you, my dear, and...

..take whatever action
you feel is necessary."

"Perhaps she has already found

"Her place in life,
but I shall feel easier

knowing that you are to
keep a friendly eye on her."

Well?

Well...she seems happy enough.

Oh, for God's sake,
stop repeating yourself.

If you want me to
advise you, Louisa,

I'd say you should
call on the mother,

sound out the home front.

Yeah, I thought you'd
say something like that.

Look. As far as Lottie
Richards is concerned,

I want to keep me distance.

Yes, that's right.

Now, careful now.

- Do you see it?
- Yeah.

This is the anther.

I forgot you, young lady.

Have you seen

a nice inlaid box
about the place?

No. I don't have a
nice inlaid box, do I?

No, no. It's Lord Haslemere's.

Well, what would it
be doing here, then?

I thought I might
have left it here.

Why?

Because I can't
find it noplace else.

It's that woman as wants it.

- What woman?
- That, eh -

that London woman.
That...Mrs. What's-her-name.

Mrs. Trotter,
Nanny. Mrs. Trotter.

Well, what does
she want with it?

I don't know.

There's not but one cup.

It don't matter.

What Lottie wants with all this

in her place, I don't know.

She'll end up
neither fish nor fowl.

I'm not going to stick
here milking cows

the rest of me life, if
that's what you think.

Oh, what are you going
to do, then, madam?

First chance I get, I'm off.

Well, Lottie, do you think

there's some truth
in what Nanny says?

Of course not.

I mean, everything's
different now, isn't it?

Nobody seems to have noticed.

I must go and clean
silver at church.

Hmm.

LOUISA: Pneumonia,
was it, Mrs. Richards?

Yeah. I'll never get over it.

Never.

I feel it all the time,

him not being here.

Makes life hard,
don't it, Mrs. Trotter,

losing the breadwinner?

And me with a child
still on my hands.

Lottie's hardly a child
no more Mrs. Richards.

Don't she work?

Oh, she works at
the Courtneys' place

with the cows, milking and such.

Is she a good girl?

Good? Ha!

When was that girl ever good?

Little devil don't know
what word means.

Up for memorial, were you?

Yes. That's right.

I remember.

Old friend of his lordship's.

That's right. I was.

Mrs. Richards, I'd like
to do something to help.

'Tis hard without a breadwinner.

Now, Lottie looks
like a bright kid.

Sometimes I hardly know
where the next bite's coming from.

Given half a chance, what would

she like to do?

Who? What?

Lottie. What's she
want to do with her life?

Nowt, so far as I know.

Nowt? Nowt? I bet
you never asked her.

From the looks of
her, she wants to dance

and sing like Phyllis Monkman,

maybe cook like Louisa Trotter,

set the bloody Thames on fire.

I'm sure I don't know
what you're talking about.

We've had a hard
life here, Mrs. Trotter.

I don't know what
I'd do without Lottie.

What's going to
happen to the girl

if she stops here?

Happen? What
should happen to her?

She'll live, won't
she, like the rest of us.

There's nowt
wrong with life here

that a bit more money
wouldn't see right.

No. And there's
a lot wrong with it

that a bit of spit and
polish would see right.

Good day, Mrs. Richards.

Who does she think she is,

coming here like that?

I remember her well enough

and the trouble she stirred up

last time she were here.

What does she want now?

What the devil?

Oh, thieving cow!

She's kidnapped her.
She's run off with her.

What will I do?

Oh!

Ah!

You're a hard man.

Well, as a young man, Major,

I was a full-blooded romantic.

Read too much
Poe and listened to

too much sentimental music.

Very unhealthy.

I was dimly aware
of it at the time,

but both my youth and the taste

of the period inclined me to it.

I rather hope you're
a romantic still.

In my experience,
nothing is worse

than a romantic
temperament turned cynical.

I believe you're right.

But now I wonder, Major,

can a romantic become a realist?

And would becoming
a realist consist

in having more
realistic fantasies

or in working harder to
make them come true?

You know, when I
was a young chap,

the moment my fantasies

threatened to become real, which

just occasionally
they did, I was off,

fast as I could run.

I wasn't so very different.

My youthful fantasy was to fight

for our dear Queen.

But when the time came

for me to go off
to the Zulu wars, I...

I hid up in the old
loft at home terrified.

I'd have done almost
anything not to go.

But you went.

By then, I had no choice.

Mother cried.

She cried when I came home, too.

She's been kidnapped!

Elsie, whatever is it?

That woman kidnapped her.

Elsie, whatever are
you talking about?

Do please try to be calm.

I saw it with my own eyes.

She pushed her into
a great big motorcar,

she did, and she
drove off with her.

She means Louisa has
kidnapped Lottie, I suppose.

I believe she does.

Most unlikely.

Elsie, do please try to be calm.

Now, why should Mrs. Trotter

kidnap Lottie, for
heaven's sake?

How should I know?

LOUISA: One
quick spin in the cab,

you think you've been
to the blooming moon.

What's smitten you lot, then?

Oh, pet! Oh, my little love.

What's the matter, ma?

I thought you'd gone.

Gone where?

I thought that woman
had stolen you.

I don't do things behind
people's backs, Mrs. Richards.

What were you doing then,
running off with her like that,

frightening the wits out of me?

Please, don't cry, mum.

NANNY: She was just the same

when Will asked
her to marry him,

then he changed his mind.

She made such a hullabaloo,
he had to ask her again

just for a quiet life.

That's you all
over, ain't it, Betty?

Remembering something
happened years ago

has nowt to do with you,

but I bet you can't remember
what you had for breakfast.

Well, I'm sorry if you was
frightened, Mrs. Richards,

but as you can see,
Lottie's quite safe.

But how many ideas have you put

into that silly...

you always were
a daft silly thing.

Now you're on your own,

you get dafter by the minute.

Come on. Oh, both of you, home.

Thanks for the ride, missis.

My God, what an
unfortunate woman.

Check.

Surely the character of the city

is always more volatile.

I don't believe the local

temperament's changed much.

I think you find the same

downright honesty and thrift

in these dales
as in the old days.

The same could hardly
be said of London.

Uh...mate?

Mmm...

You're very quiet, Louisa.

Yeah.

What's this?

Oh, that's Nanny's shawl.

She's forgotten it.

She forgets everything.

Sometimes I think she
ain't got a clue who I am.

We hated the sight of
each other first time we met.

Well, maybe we understand
each other better now.

I've been trying to remember

who it is she reminds me
of, and it's just come to me.

She's the very
image of a little terrier

I had as a child.

She shares the
terrier's tenacity, too.

Vicar, what plans have
you got in mind for Lottie?

I? I don't have
any plans for Lottie.

She's hardly my responsibility, is she?

Besides, I thought you were

the one with the
plans, Mrs. Trotter.

I can't stand the thought of her

living in that pigsty.

Oh, you exaggerate.

It's a pigsty. The old sow

that lives in it is
drunk half the time.

Nonsense, Mrs. Trotter.

Well, I bet you haven't
darkened their door

since the day
will Richards died.

My dear, might not a settlement
of money be the answer?

Money's the magic answer

to everything
these days, isn't it?

I think you appreciate
its magical properties

well enough, my dear.

I want Lottie out of there.

She's coming back
to London with me.

I think that's what Charlie
would have wanted.

With you, Mrs. Trotter?

Whatever makes you suggest that?

I don't understand.

I don't myself see that
such a...drastic solution

is strictly necessary.

You say that Charles

would have wanted you to take

Lottie Richards back to London?

Vicar, do you remember
when Lottie was just

a little thing a few weeks old

and Charlie brought her up here

for the Richards to take?

Well, I don't think
nothing was ever said then

about where she was
found or who she was.

She was ours,
Charlie's and mine.

Ah.

But now,

all these years later,

you want to take her away.

I mean, this is her home.

I mean, whatever her blood,

this is where her roots are.

Yeah, home sweet home.

Home fit for an
animal to live in.

A bolt-hole, a
place to stay dry in.

Aren't you looking
at Lottie's life

from an exclusively
material point of view?

I'm surprised at you, Vicar.

Lottie is Charlie
Haslemere's daughter.

I'm trying to do what
he'd have wanted me to.

I don't pretend I'll be
a good mother to her.

I wouldn't know
where the hell to start.

But she's old enough
to do without that now.

When I was her age,

I was out in the big
wide world on me own.

Louisa, my dear, don't you think

the young lady should
be given the facts

and allowed to
decide for herself?

No. I don't want her told.

I don't want her to
know who I am, not yet.

You don't think
you're just trying

to ease your own
guilty feelings,

Mrs. Trotter?

I ain't got no guilty feelings.

About Charlie?

No, I don't feel guilty
about me and Charlie.

We was going to get married

when the guns stopped,

only they didn't stop in time.

Well, now you know.

It's given you something
to think about, eh, Vicar?

Time for home, Major.

Oh, thank you.

I may say that brief
though the remission was,

I haven't enjoyed a game
of chess so much for years.

Nor I, Major. Nor I.

We must do it again soon.

Yes.

Oh, allow me.

Safe journey home.

Oh, Nanny. I thought
you'd gone home.

I'm just on me way now, sir.

Ah.

Good night, sir.

Good night, Nanny.

Damn.

Damn!

Nanny?

Nanny!

Where's Lottie?

It appears she's not coming.

Go on. They're your favorite.

And what do you know about it?

I've been making
biscuits now for you...

not biscuits! Lottie.

Oh, it's a bad business.

I know that, all right.

You were very wrong to
run off carrying tales like that.

Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't.

But I've seen the
way you look at her.

Look at who?

Lottie. Lottie!

At your age, and all.

What are you talking about?

You know well
enough what I mean.

You can be a devilishly nosy,

suspicious old woman, can't you?

Maybe I can, and maybe I can't, but...

that girl would be

far better off away from here.

But you don't like the idea

of Mrs. Trotter taking
her away to London...

I never did like that woman.

Aha! So you do remember her.

Sometimes I do,
and sometimes I don't.

By the way, what about the keys?

What about the keys?

Did you give them
to Mr. Enfield?

I gave him the big bunch, yes.

I suppose you mean

there's a small
bunch you still have?

No.

But a key.

One key.

The front door?

Side door.

I never thought time would come

when I couldn't be
trusted with them keys.

You know it's not a
question of that, Nanny.

Have you noticed how...

everything in this
room is so old?

There's nothing young
or fresh or even new.

Ah, well, you've been here

a long time now,
haven't you, sir?

And no woman
to look after things.

No.

What about this Mrs.
What's-her-name?

I thought you liked her.

Oh, I do. I do. She's
a splendid woman.

But as a young
girl's guardian, oh!

You're not suggesting
I should solve it all

by marrying the lady, I hope.

I don't suppose she'd have you,

would she, sir?

Hmm.

ELSIE: Vicar!

Oh, good gracious, woman!

Oh, Vicar, I can't find Lottie.

That's God's truth. I can't.

She went to bed
all right last night,

but when I got up this
morning, she'd gone.

Could she be with a friend,
with, little Liz perhaps?

Oh, no. With that
woman, more like,

coming here and making trouble

as she did last time.

Oh, come, Elsie. I'll call

around the village
after the service.

But Lottie should
never have been told.

I know. I know.

It was Mrs. Ord
came spilling it all out,

with Lottie lying
there awake still.

But I should have
been told, shouldn't I?

Who does she think I am?

Only the woman that's
brought that child up

all these years, loved her

and cared for her.

What's she ever done for Lottie

except drop her and leave her?

Oh, don't distress
yourself so, my dear.

Of course we'll find her.

She must be about somewhere.

Elsie, you must stop drinking.

I only take a drop of stout

now and then for my blood.

No, no. Lottie always
were a little devil.

She'll be hiding away
somewhere out of spite.

Don't you worry about her.

I hope you're right, Mrs. Ord.

Of course I am, love.

I was sure I didn't put
that box back in that desk.

Whatever did I do with it?

What did I do with it?

Well, it certainly
isn't here, Mrs. Ord.

Wait a minute!

I've remembered.

Now, you stop here.

I don't like folk
poking about in here

behind Lord Haslemere's back.

I thoroughly approve

of your plans for
Lottie, Mrs. Trotter.

Well, I'm glad of that,

glad I have your approval.

I thought it might help

to know someone's on your side.

How do you know what my
plans for Lottie are, anyway?

Oh, come, Mrs. Trotter.

Everyone but everyone knows.

Glad I don't live
in a bloody village.

So you think I look
like I need help, do you?

Yes, in a way.

To be more exact,

you look like a woman
who's grown too self-reliant.

It shows after a while.

Well, you may be right.

You're remarkably honest.

Do you have time now for...

..anyone other than Lottie?

Are you after me
money, Mr. Enfield?

Perhaps. You should have

more confidence in yourself.

I've got more than
enough confidence

in my judgment of
character, Mr. Enfield.

NANNY: Here it is!

I put my hand right on it.

There you are, Mrs. Trotter.

There you are, at last.

Now then, come
on, Master Stansfield.

I'm sure you want to
be alone, Mrs. Trotter.

Come on, Master Stansfield.

Come and have a cup of coffee

with the vicar.

♪ They saw me cover the ground, ♪

♪ They saw my coattails flying, ♪

♪ As I jumped my partner round; ♪

♪ When the band
commences playing, ♪

♪ My feet begin to go, ♪

♪ For a rollicking
romping Polka, ♪

♪ Is the jolliest dance I know. ♪

♪ You shall see me
dance the Polka, ♪

♪ See me cover the ground, ♪

Where the hell have you been?

Upstairs, in the nursery.

Oh, yeah. I remember
you was always up there...

Riding that rocking horse.

Gave me the fright of me life.

Sorry.

Come here. I want to
show you something.

Funny, eh?

Here, let's have a
proper look at you.

Lord and Lady Haslemere...

They were like something
in a fairy story to me

when I were a kid.

Then when Lady
Haslemere got ill,

I remember you coming.

I remember Lady
Haslemere dying and all.

I felt it were your fault.

How could it have been my fault?

Now, look, young lady,

you and me don't know

nothing about each other.

But for all that,

we're mother and daughter,

flesh and blood.

Now if you want a
decent start in life,

I'm willing to give it to you.

Why?

I want you to have
a better chance

than what I did.

You managed all right.

Yeah, I managed. You're right.

I managed, but it was hard.

Too hard, I shouldn't wonder.

Now, I want you to come
back to London with me.

I think that's what your father

would have wanted.

But...I've lived
here all me life.

You sound like an old woman.

Nanny knew you was
here all the time, didn't she?

When I were little...

I thought Lord Haslemere

were the nicest
man in the world.

He never told me off, see,

even when he knew
I'd been up there

in his old playroom

on that rocking horse.

Oh, go away!

You've spoiled everything!

Everything's spoiled!

Well, Lottie...

I'll be at the hotel in
Harrogate if you want me.

LOTTIE: It were a dream, see,

so real, I thought I were awake.

I went in the nursery
last night at the hall,

and I saw Mrs. Trotter come in.

She looked so sad.

And her face were
white as chalk.

She came and leaned on me,

looking at me so queer like.

And just here,
between her eyebrows,

were a black moth.

I reached up to try
and brush it away, but...

I couldn't
seem to touch it.

Mrs. Trotter just went on

looking at me
like that for a bit,

but she didn't say nothing.

Then she just got
up and went away.

Well, you've certainly given us

all one devil of a nightmare

the last few days.

Oh, thank you, my dear.

Didn't you go to bed last night?

No. Bless you.

Don't look so disgustingly

pleased with yourself.

I'm not.

I'm miserable.

I don't know what to do.

I keep thinking of me dad.

Well, I thought he were
my dad, and I loved him.

I could talk to him. I
wish he were here now.

But your mother
will be taken care of.

Liz will go in every day.

I do not want to go away.

Lottie...

You always said,

"The first chance
I get, I'm off."

I know, but I don't want to now.

Well, no one's
planning to force you.

But tell me, if you stay,

how do you see
yourself in 5 years?

10 years?

20, hmm?

It was nice imagining things.

But it's all spoilt now.

Why is it spoilt?

You can be proud of
your parents, can't you?

And you were fond
of your real father

without knowing who he was.

I suppose so.

It can't be easy for them, hmm,

to part with you?

Anyway, one thing's certain...

Whatever you have
here wouldn't last forever.

It would change.

You would change.

You'd soon start to say...

You'd say...

"When I was a girl,

"I used to imagine that
I'd run away to London

and all sorts of
mad, exciting things,"

And you'd laugh, yes?

Have you noticed
the way people laugh

at what they used to be,

pretending they don't regret.

Hmm?

Still...

Before you decide, young lady,

there's one thing
I want you to do.

Yes?

Make me a cup of
strong, fresh coffee.

Were you worrying
about me last night?

Yes.

Of course I was
worrying about you!

I keep asking meself,

"What the hell have you
gone and done, Louisa?"

What do I want
with a girl her age?

Given half a chance,

she'd take over me whole life.

It seems you may well
not get her anyway, Louisa,

want her or not.

LOTTIE: I noan ask for pleasure.

I noan ask for ease,

for brass nor fine victuals,

I noan ask for these.

I nobbut want work
for to keep me from sin,

and I'd like some fine day

me own fireside to win

and a husband to come
from his work to his tea.

2 chairs by the hearthstone
make heaven for me.

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