White Gold (2017–…): Season 2, Episode 5 - Episode #2.5 - full transcript

240, 245 and 250.
It's all there. Good boy.

Now here's your ticket.

A Mr Setra will meet you
at the hotel, go straight there,

deliver the cash, get out.

No fucking about, you got it?

Not even time for
a quick dip in the sea?

You fuck this up, I'll arrange
a much longer dip for you.

Jesus, I was only making a joke.

Well, in that case, so was I.

Have a good trip.

Hello? I've got a business trip
booked to Malta with you



and I wanted to see if I could book
seats for the rest of my family.

My name's Vincent Swan,
Dr Vincent Swan.

Great.

Also, I'm speaking
at a medical conference

and I could use a few hours
on the flight to prepare.

Is there any chance
of a business class upgrade?

No, just the one seat would be fine.

If Ronnie's going to
treat me like a mule,

I'm going to make damn
sure I get a kick out of it.

That's the craziest
shit I've ever heard.

I know. Can you believe
that Machiavellian bitch Jo

engineered the whole thing
just to get one over on Vincent?

No, not that. The fact that
Sam found you attractive.

Thanks very much. Oh, come on, mate.
She's gorgeous and you...



..you're like a completely
different species.

Let me get this straight. YOU
were the one who wouldn't commit?

Can we change the subject? I mean,

you have looked at yourself
in the mirror before, right?

How's the boy wonder working out?

Oh, God. He is even more of
a pillock then I remembered.

Good, that's what I was hoping for.

How about I come
over and work for you?

Unfortunately, that ship has sailed.

No, Walsh has made
it abundantly clear

that I'm not allowed
to take on any more staff.

Can't you just sack RJ?
One in one out?

Look, if you want to go
and tell his nutcase of a dad

that you got his fuckwit son
fired, then be my guest.

Here you go, Brian.

What's that?

Orange juice and lemonade.
I asked for a pint.

Sorry, got distracted.

Got chatting to the young
damsel behind the bar.

Well, a real-life
damsel in distress.

Quite the opposite, lavatory.

She gave me her number

which means, by the end of the day,

she'll very likely be
a damsel out of a dress...

..as opposed to in a dress...

..because she'll be naked.
Yes, I think I get it, RJ.

This is bollocks. How did a freak
like you managed to pull her?

If Stratego has taught me one thing,

no advances were ever made
without taking risks, my compadres.

You can't capture the enemy's flag
without coming out of your trench.

You're right. He's right.

You're a creepy genius.

It is that simple.

I've got to go.

Thank you, RJ.
Don't thank me, thank Stratego.

Wow. I don't suppose
there's any danger

of you applying this go-get-'em
attitude to selling our windows?

Wouldn't work. Why not?

Cos, ultimately, I don't give a toss
about selling windows, Brian.

Yeah, that's the spirit.

Ronnie's errand had at least
put a few thousand miles

between me and that
marriage-wrecking time bomb, Jo.

When you're caught between
a rock and a hard place, it takes

the edge off when the rock is
a sun-kissed Mediterranean island.

So that's room 211, double bed
with the pull-out bed for children.

I'm not sleeping with Rob,
you know he stinks of BO now.

I don't want to catch your zits!
You horrible little shit. Mum!

Excuse me, sweetheart,
do you have any adjoining rooms?

No, but we have
a junior suite available.

Rate is 200 Maltese lira per night.

Then what's that in real money?

In English pounds
sterling, that's...

..£320.

Nice try. You and I both know rate
cards are only used to fleece

the terminally stupid
or the stupidly wealthy.

I'm sorry,
I not really understand.

Is there anyone else
who could check us in?

I said, only very rich
or very stupid,

like that pair behind, pay that.

Now, what can you do for me on
that sweet price? What did he say?

I'm sorry, I can't do
deals on the price.

All right, how about
a complimentary upgrade?

I'm a very generous tipper
after a good night's sleep.

This is ridiculous.
Can you hurry up, please?

I'm sorry, your Highness,
but we haven't finished yet.

Come on, what's your best price?
I'm so sorry.

You know what they say,
if you have to ask for the price,

you definitely can't afford it.

Is there any chance you could
let someone else check in?

It's OK. Vincent, come on.

Let's just look at the room.
I'm sure it's lovely.

OK.

All yours. Although I think

you'll find there's a no dogs
allowed policy at this hotel.

Vincent, go. And you.

What did he say?

All right, try not to drown.

I don't want to spend the whole
holiday filling out forms.

You're so funny, Mum.

Last one in the pool gets the camp
bed with the blood-stained sheets.

Isn't Nat a bit old for Bun-buns?

She told me to bring him.

Apparently he's never
been to Malta before.

Oh, that's sweet.

Thank you, Vincent.
I needed a break.

Nothing beats
a few days of the four "S" s.

Sun, sea, sand and...

And sharing a room
with our two children.

Might need to settle
for the three "S"s.

There's always the beach at night.

No, thanks. I'm not a bloody turtle.

Although I am still
a big fan of doggy.

Oh, easy, Lassie.

One of us should
watch the kids swim.

Why don't I finished unpacking

and get it nice and cosy
in here for us?

That is disturbingly
sensible for you.

I quite like this new being
waited on hand and foot.

First you pack the case
coming out here,

now everything gets
hanged up at this and.

It's like having a sexy butler.

Just call me Jeeves.

See you in half an hour. OK.

That was close. I probably could've
hidden this roll somewhere else,

but who doesn't enjoy the feel
of a cool five grand in 50s

laying against their nutsack.

Now, in case you were wondering

where the rest of Ronnie's
illicit cash is stuffed...

Oh, bad luck.

Sea view's this side.

Excuse me,
I'm looking for a Mr Setra.

Yeah, right there. Thanks.

Ronnie's dirty laundry, I believe.

I'm enjoying the symbolism, Mr Swan.

Please, call me Vincent.

Do I need a receipt?

I'm afraid we operate a strictly
sans paperwork facility, Vincent.

Tell Ronnie we'll scrub this
until it's unrecognisable.

Now, there was one other matter
I was hoping to discuss with you.

When do you leave? In a few days.

Perfect. That's just enough time
to discover what this intriguing

little island has to offer

and to join me for a spot of
lunch on my yacht tomorrow.

I have to tell you,
I'm here with my wife.

I'm not trying to seduce
you, if you're worried.

Not really. I get more offended

when people don't want
to sleep with me, Mr Setra.

It's just she might finally divorce
me if I disappear for an afternoon.

She's more than welcome.
Do you know where the marina is?

I'm going to guess -
is it on the edge of the sea?

Pier seven. You can't miss us.

I'll see you tomorrow at one.

Now that Ronnie's contraband
was safely delivered,

the only bulge in my underpants

was the one reserved for
the woman of my dreams.

I must admit, this one of your
better ideas, Vincent Swan.

I do have them sometimes.

Thank you.

And Nat was embracing every
teenage girl's rite of passage

by flirting with
a greasy Maltese waiter.

I needed this.

So it is now a good time to
re-pitch my sex on the beach idea?

The cocktail, or the agonising
sand-in-the-fanny sexual experience?

One of each.

How about no?

Fair enough.

How about I offer you
lunch on a yacht instead?

Oh, much better.

Now, if only you had a yacht.

Or knew a man who does.

I'm serious.

A friend of Ronnie's has invited us
out to lunch on a yacht tomorrow.

Really?

Wow, I've never been
on a yacht before.

What about the kids?

Hotel's got a kids' club.

They're capable of looking after
themselves for a few hours.

Yeah, why not?

What is it, Rob? Nat's been getting
the waiter to sneak vodka

in her orange all night.
Stop telling tales.

She threw up on her shoes.

Oh, sweetheart.

I'll kill that fucking waiter.

It's not his fault, Dad.
I told him I was 18.

He'll be in for a nice shock

when he sees you at the
Teenyboppers kids' club tomorrow.

What? I ain't going to a
kids' club. Yes, you are.

Why do you all have to be so
embarrassing all the time?

Says the girl who pebble-dashed
the hotel bar floor. Mum, tell them.

Oh, God.

SHE RETCHES

That's it, baby.

There you go, get it all out.

At least you'll be
the first kid at Teenyboppers

to turn up with a hangover.
Shut up.

Look, I'm taking a few days off.

Yeah, sure. When were you thinking?
Well, from now. Oh, no sorry.

I've got Vincent swanning off
on some Ronnie-inspired errand.

I can't lose my only other salesman.

I wasn't calling for permission.
I'm just letting you know.

Thank you. What a thoroughly
decent arsehole you are.

You betrayed my trust,
fucked up my career,

and potentially a marriage, just to
score some cheap point over Vincent,

and I'M the arsehole?

Christ, such a drama queen.

Are you even going to
tell me what you're doing?

I'm capturing the flag.

Right, Carol.

You've been promoted to field sales.

Show me you can outperform
Lavender in the next two days

and you can have his job.
Any questions?

You're not in Kansas any more.
What are you doing?

Is not a dream, is it? No.
Please don't make me reconsider.

And before you hang up
your receptionist boots,

find me the number to wherever
that fucker Vincent's staying.

Oh, God, I think I'm going to puke.

I get nerves.

Breathe, Carol.
Nerves are perfectly natural.

You'll not tell another soul this,

but I wet myself
when I closed my first deal.

Did you, though, or are you just
trying to make me feel better?

Both. Still carry spare
knickers in the car.

Just remember, they
requested more information.

You're here to gently nudge that
interest towards a purchase,

so make it memorable for them.

Be engaged, flatter them,
make them laugh.

Sounds more like a blind date.
Actually, it's a lot like that.

How do you manage
your nerves on a date?

I just try and pretend
to be someone else.

Good, that's just what selling is.

You're presenting a heightened
version of yourself.

OK. I can do that. Good.

Right?

DOORBELL

I think I'm going to need to
borrow those spare knickers later.

Are you sure you don't want a tea?
No, water's fine.

SHE GULPS

SHE EXHALES

Carol, do you want to
tell Dave and Annie

a little bit more about who we are?

My name's Caroline Ewing...
the Third.

I know what you're thinking -
why is someone like me sitting

in your beautiful front room,
attempting to extol the virtues

of replacement windows?

I weren't expecting that.

Neither was I, Annie.

But at 18 I decided to turn my back
on a life of luxury and comfort

and go out into the big, wide world
to make something of myself...

..on my terms.

Good for you, love. Yeah.

Meanwhile, Lavender's mission

to capture the flag
had entered a critical phase.

It was time to go over the top.

You've only got to be a Teenybopper
for one afternoon, Nat.

But what if Kristof sees me?

Well, he'll just think you're
looking after your little brother,

while your wonderful
mother swans off

for a swanky meal on a luxury yacht.
Don't take the piss.

I'm not. I appreciate it.

Cool, we're going hunting.

Can we really be from
the same gene pool?

We're taking photos, you div.

Right, here's some money.

Don't let Robbie blow it all
on the arcade machines, OK?

Be back in a few hours. Come here.

Oh, did you wash your hair?

I just got a whiff of
vodka orange puke.

You didn't, did you?
Go on, got to go. Bye.

Sam, I need to talk to you.

Jesus Christ, Martin.

What are you doing here?

I needed to see you.

Shit.
Vincent will be down any minute.

It's OK, I can say whatever I've got
to say in front of Vincent. No!

No. Just calm down.
What are you talking about?

Why are you even here?
This can't wait.

Sam, I've wasted
so much time already.

You asked me once
if I was ready to commit. What?

Of course this can fucking wait.

You have flown halfway across Europe

and ambushed me
on my family holiday.

I'm assuming you haven't got

any other pressing engagements
in Malta later today.

No. No. Good.

OK, I'll be back in a few hours.

Just keep a low profile.

Don't let the kids see you and,

when I get back, we can
talk, just you and me.

But I've got to go, Martin. Please.

OK.

Mr Swan, sorry to bother you,

but I have a message
for you from your employer.

Oh, well, that's funny.
She's here with me now.

What did you want, my darling?
This is joke, yes?

Barely, but, yes, he's joking.

I think she means Ronnie, darling.

No, telephone call
was from Miss Jo Scott.

She asked you to call
the showroom urgently.

Well, that's a bit
fucking weird, innit?

Jo tracking you down on holiday.

Not really. She's off her trolley.

Probably looking for
where we keep the tea bags.

Well, you better
call her back, then.

No, fuck her. She can wait.
We're on holiday.

If I need someone to remind
me what an arsehole I am,

we can bring Nat to lunch.

If she calls back, tell her I said
she's not my fucking boss, got that?

An absolute pleasure
meeting you both.

Good luck with the new windows.

You'll be the envy of
all the neighbours. Thank you.

And don't brag too loudly
about my godfather, Philip,

using the same style
in the Balmoral refurbishment.

OK, well, thanks very much. Bye.

Fuck me.

Too much?

Research is the key to great
character writing for me.

My next novel's about a double
glazing salesman serial killer,

hence being here.

Don't worry, I'm not going to kill
you and wear your skin as a dress.

THEY LAUGH

Probably my biggest part was
playing Violet Beauregarde

in Willy Wonka And
The Chocolate Factory.

Well, a bona fide child star
in our front room, Trevor.

Wasn't Violet Beauregarde American?

AMERICAN ACCENT:
She sure was, buddy!

Why did you quit?

Let's just say
the Everlasting Gobstopper

wasn't the only thing
the producer asked me to suck on.

Bloody hell, that IS a yacht.

Why, what do you think I meant
when I said lunch on a yacht?

Well, I guess I was half expecting
a bag of chips on a pedalo.

How do you know these people?
Friends of Ronnie's.

Permission to walk
your plank, Mr Setra?

You know you always
have my permission, Vincent.

And who is this delightful creature?

Hello, I'm Sam.
Hi, Sam. Pleasure to meet you.

My name is Roland.

Although most people seem to
prepare calling me Mr Setra.

Must be my schoolmasterly manner.

No, surely it's because you're
a man of distinction, Mr Setra.

Oh, I can see how this one

keeps you on the straight
and narrow, Vincent.

Vincent, Sam, this is my
business partner, Alan Rudd,

and his wife, Maggie.

Pleased to meet you, Vincent.
I've heard nothing but good things.

Now, this man might look like
a Les Dawson impersonator

who has had an accident
with a tin of creosote,

but, in reality, he's one
of Europe's most wealthiest

time-share property developers.

For the uninitiated,
time-share works like this -

for an affordable upfront fee,

any schmuck could now part-own
a luxury property on a resort,

the trade-off being that they could
only use it for a few weeks a year.

More importantly, time-share was
like the fucking Wild West for
selling.

Unethical practices,
zero regulations

and the opportunity to make
life-changing amounts of money.

The hedonistic distractions were
also fall-of-the-Roman-Empire level

but we'll come back to that later.

As I'm sure you gathered,
we're looking for someone

to run a line of closers
at the new Marbella resort.

No such thing as a free lunch, eh?

Vincent, are you interested?

I'm fairly sure the package
will fare comfortably into

what you're earning with Ronnie.

Boys, the double glazing
business has been good for me,

but it's not the game it once was.

Trading Standards,
cooling-off periods,

a relentless tide of charmless
fuckers who've wasted

their life savings
on courses in how to sell.

Being a closer isn't something you
learn, or even aspire to do.

It's in your fucking blood.
Am I right, Alan?

I'll take that as you...
registering an interest.

Absolutely.

There is, of course,

a large and dangerously
psychotic elephant in the room -

my current employer.

He might not be too keen about
me walking away from Cachet.

I've known Ronnie for
a very long time, Vincent.

He might not be as
intractable as you think.

With your permission, may I deal
with the Ronnie issue directly?

Be my guest. What about Sam?

Do you think she could be
persuaded to up sticks,

take the kids out of school?

Sweetheart? How do you feel about
leaving Essex behind

and going to live by the
Mediterranean for a few years?

Oh, sunshine and yachts
over rain and the oil refinery.

Might need a few seconds
to think about that, babe.

Well, allow me to make a toast
to making obscene amounts of money

in the Spanish sunshine. Cheers.

Back at the hotel, amazingly, the
Teenyboppers were being 100% literal

about their wildlife shoot.

It turns out that the Maltese have
a very liberal attitude to hunting.

The national motto of
Malta might as well be

if it flies, it dies.

While Lavender, having sunk
a few pints of Dutch courage

was now sleeping like
a mad dog in the midday sun.

Walkies.

Just stop it.

Right, you go and get changed.
I'm going to go rescue Nat

from the slow social death
of Teenyboppers, OK? Good plan.

Quick question -

what's the rate for international
calls from your hotel?

There you are.

Jesus! It's cheaper to rent a suite
here than it is to phone England.

Excuse me? Yes, sir.

I just dropped my key into the
box but I need to get it back.

Do you mind? It's 212. OK.

Grazie.

That's £14,000 worth of
business in a single day.

Plus three Oscar nominations.

Sorry, was I too mental?

Who cares, baby.
You were sensational.

PHONE RINGS

No more answering the
phone for you, my dear.

Hello? Cachet Windows and Doors.

What the fuck are you playing
at, calling me out here?

One minute. Carol,
do you mind nipping downstairs

and keeping an eye on
the showroom for me? Thanks.

Clock's ticking, Vincent,
and I haven't had my answer.

Are you coming back to work for me
or do I have to confess all to Sam?

Cos we both know
who she'll believe.

This isn't a game, Jo.
We're talking about my marriage,

about my family.
Oh, it's all a game, Vincent.

Only some of us are better
at playing it than others.

Is winning that important to you?

Oh, winning isn't
the important thing.

It's the only thing.

This is getting complicated.

I can't stop thinking
about you, about us.

Really?

So what's it going to be, Vincent?

What's your next move?

I want you to take your hand and
slide it over that perfect belly,

between your legs.

Oh, I like this move.

What's next?

What the hell, Martin?

You call this fucking incognito?

Sam...

..I must have dozed off.

Did my kids see you?
No, no. I've been...

Oh, fuck me! My feet are on fire.

Oh! Oh, my God. Oh! Fuck!

Are you all right? Nothing
a bit of aftersun won't cure.

Look, we can't do this here.
Vincent's going to see us.

Let's go inside. I don't care.

I'm here to say what I should
have said that day in the car.

No, you can't do this.

I came for your flag, Sam.

RJ was right.

I've been in the trenches
all my life.

Christ, I'm thirsty.

Robbie, what the fuck are they?

Seagulls and a woodpecker.

Jesus, mate.
Where's your sister?

Last time I saw her she was getting
a massage from the creepy barman.

Right, get rid of those
and get up to the room.

Motherfucker.

Wasn't enough to screw my wife
behind my back, was it?

Vincent, I'm here for Sam.

HE RETCHES

You must have lost your fucking mind
if you think Sam's going to leave me

for a pathetic wanker like you.

Leave him alone. I think he's
got sunstroke. I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry, everyone.

Hang on a second.
You knew about me and him?

No.

Well, yes, but I only
found out a few days ago.

Right. And you are going to
mention that to me, when?

On the plane home?
Christmas fucking Day? Or never!

Sam, I need to tell you
what I came here to say.

No, you need to get
the fuck out of here.

Shut up, Vincent.
I can speak for myself.

Look, if you don't love me
then tell me...

..and I will walk away forever.

But if there's even the tiniest
bit of you that still imagines

what a life together could be like,
then we can build on that, Sam.

In what world did you think
this would be OK, Martin?

Flying out here,
embarrassing me in public,

in front of strangers, my family,

and giving me two and a half minutes

to make a decision
about the rest of my life.

Why do men think everything
is that fucking simple?

You need to go, Martin.

You heard her.
I'm fucking warning you, Vincent!

OK, I'm going.

Goodbye, Sam.

Martin?

Oh, my God.
Look at the state of him.

PEOPLE LAUGH

Oh, he's not well.

Get off me.

How is this my fucking fault?

Why didn't you mention
that you know about Martin and me

and how the fuck did Jo find out?

Just calm down, babe, all right?
I can explain.

Of course you can, Vincent,

cos you've always got a fucking
answer for everything.

SHE SCREAMS
Oh, Christ.

They're trophies from Robbie's
Teenybopper bird hunt.

Look, I need you to know this.
I'm not cheating on you.

The only reason I didn't say
anything is because

I have no fucking right
to be angry about it.

We were separated.

I've been a terrible prick and,
while I hate the idea of anyone else

being with you, touching you,

dickheads in glass houses
shouldn't throw stones.

I've taken you for granted, baby.

So, while it killed me, hearing it,
how could I blame you?

Jo is trying to destroy me, baby.

Do not let that bitch
come between us.

I want it to be true, Vince.

It is, baby, I promise.

On Robbie's pet seagull's life.

Oh, I like it. Superstar shades
for my superstar saleswoman.

Can I have a word? Yeah.

Jesus, what's happened to your eyes?
Oh, I couldn't sleep.

Tried to drink myself out,

but all I had in the flat
was a bottle of old cooking sherry.

I think I've had a reaction.
I've been puking all night.

Do you want to go home,
sleep it off?

Jo, how do you sleep at night?

I've always been a good sleeper.
Here you are.

Take a Valium, take the edge off.

No, I mean,
how do you live with it?

Lying to all those people.

Honey, there's nothing wrong with
selling people things they need

and making a profit from it.

I mean, you don't object
to being sold things you need,

like food, clothes, ciggies.

Yeah, but Co-op don't
come around my house,

telling me they're going to
feed the world for Bob Geldof

then make me massively
overpay for my groceries.

I never asked you to lie.

Oh, please.
Can I just have my old job back?

Is not too late, as it?
I'll take a pay cut. Anything.

Oh, come here.

Of course you can.

As long as I can use
that Geldof line.

Oh, thank God.

The next day, Lavender
left Malta a broken man.

On top of sunstroke, he'd gotten
second-degree sunburn on his feet,

but nothing ached
more than the poor sap's heart.

At least he'd learnt
one important lesson -

never take life advice from
a Stratego-obsessed freak

with a borderline
personality disorder.

And after a few extra
Maltese nights,

it was time for
the Swans to fly home.

Ah, the wanderer returns.

Miss me?

Strange, I have.

Must be true what they say.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

SHE CLEARS THROAT

Sorry to interrupt.

Ronnie's son's downstairs.

He seems really upset
about something.

Look, just calm down, all right?

When did you and your mum
last see your dad? Friday morning.

And everything was normal?
He called me a huge disappointment

and left for work, so, yeah.
Business as usual.

Maybe he had to go
away on a business trip.

Well, he always checks in
with Mum when he's away,

wherever the antiques business
may take him. Antiques business?

Hang on.

I saw this episode once
of Antiques Roadshow.

The museum owner was killed by
a 300-year-old Japanese sword.

Now, the killer hid
in a suit of armour.

Actually, that could have
been an episode of Columbo...

..or Scooby-Doo.

Look, just go home and be
with your mum, all right?

I'm sure he'll show up with a funny
or terrifying story to tell.

I'll call you as soon
as I hear from him.

OK.

Thanks, Vincent.

Yeah.

PHONE RINGS

Cachet Windows and Doors.

Vincent. Roland Setra calling.
How the devil are you?

Mr Setra.
To what do I owe the pleasure?

I just wanted to let you know that
I've managed to take care of

your employment issues and that the
path for you take up our job offer

is, shall we say, unhindered.

Sorry, employment issues?

Your Ronnie problem
is taken care of.

Look forward to seeing
you soon in Marbella, Vincent.

OK, Mr Setra, that sounds lovely.

See you soon, sir.

Bye.

Fuck.