MERRIMAN: Oh, God help us.
Did you hear Miss Norah screaming?
And Mrs. Trotter yelling.
Well! And the swearing.
You've never heard nothing like it.
I heard it all, Mary. I just told you.
"Get out! Clear out!" she was yelling.
Only not so ladylike.
"Out! Out! Out! You're no husband of mine no more."
I heard. I heard.
"And take your bitch of a sister..."
Sorry for the language,
but I'm only reporting the facts...
"And take your bitch of a sister with you," she said.
Yes, I heard.
Ooh, you've never heard nothing like it.
Mr. Merriman?
Well, what now?
When Mr. Trotter shouted,
"How can you run the hotel without us?"
She said, "The hotel can go to hell."
Yes, I heard.
Well, I was wondering about that, really.
I wondered about it for the rest of the night.
Mr. Merriman, what would happen to us?
We'd be out in the street.
We would indeed.
Well?
Well what?
Well, what would happen then?
Well, we'd be out on the street.
Street's full of people out on the street.
Oh, Mr. Merriman, I...
Now, if I was a clairvoyant, miss,
I'd never have become a headwaiter in the first place.
Well, you won't be that for much longer.
Oh, thank you.
Even if I found new employment, you wouldn't.
You're too old. You're very old.
There aren't many who are older.
Thank you again.
I'll take her a cup of tea.
Oh, let her sleep.
She's been up half the night swearing.
4, 9.
Carry the 1, which makes it...
For crying out loud.
22, 25...
2 is...
God help us.
2 and...
Morning, Mary; Merriman.
Good morning, ma'am.
You're up early, ma'am.
Tea in the pot. Help yourself.
Thank you. Good morning.
Both sleep soundly, did you?
Undisturbed?
Yes, ma'am.
Both deaf as doorposts, then, are you?
Yes, ma'am.
Sit down. I can't talk too loud.
Me voice had a busy night.
LOUISA: Now, then,
while you was both snoring in your beds
like good Christians...
or standing listening at your doors
like hotel staff usually do...
whichever the case may be,
there was a bit of a barney
which ended with my husband
and his dear sister deciding to leave,
for good, by the scruffs of their bleeding necks.
Anyway, that was last night.
It's been and gone,
so we won't worry about it no more...
especially since we got today to worry about
and tomorrow and every day after that.
Well, that's your hors d'oeuvre.
The main course is a bit harder to swallow.
I'm closing the hotel.
Eh?
Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.
See these?
Bills, all 2,819 pounds' worth.
Run up in a few short months
by my husband...
former husband as of now...
and his cow of a sister.
You wouldn't think
it was humanly possible, would you?
No, ma'am.
Well, seems it is.
So if you accidentally heard
some ripe language last night,
you know the reason why.
And all I've got to do now
is pay it off... every penny.
But, ma'am, if you're closing the hotel,
how can you pay? I mean, what can you...
work...just work, I suppose, damn hard;
harder than I've ever worked in me life,
with tea and toast for dinner
and me next new dress the day it's all paid off.
But, ma'am, you've got friends; people of means.
Won't any of them offer to assist in your...
yes, I should think they most certainly will.
MARY: Oh, thank God, ma'am.
And when they do, I just say no.
I turn them down flat, don't I?
Will you, ma'am?
LOUISA: Yeah. There's not much point
in swapping one debt for another.
But I'm talking about friends, ma'am.
That's right. So am I.
It just can't be done, Mrs. Trotter.
Nearly 3,000 pounds?
I never knew there were that many pounds,
even in England.
24 pound a year I get per annum.
It'd take me all my life; longer.
I'd be older than Mr. Merriman.
I still don't know how we're gonna do it.
What we'll have to do is...
LOUISA: We?
Us.
Well, me and you, ma'am, anyway.
I didn't think of you staying on, Mary...
either of you.
Well, I got nowhere else to go.
Anyway, I'd like to help if I could.
Thank you, Mary.
So you shall, then. So you shall.
MARY: Good.
I still don't know what doing.
Help you do what?
Well, now, you've seen the ladies
promenading up and down in the street outside
every night, all night.
Streetwalkers?
Tarts, yeah.
Well, they sell the only commodity
they've got to sell, don't they?
Right. We'll do the same.
Oh, ma'am, I...
I...I don't think I could.
I mean, well, I've always been a...
we'll sell our only commodity.
That's what I'm saying, ma'am.
I don't think I could.
Mary!
Who's the best cook in London?
Cook? Cook.
You are, ma'am.
We'll cook all the hours God sends us
for anyone who wants us to and pay the right price.
If they want a French banquet, they get a French banquet.
They want fish and chips, they get fish and chips.
And we'll earn the money... all 2,819 pounds.
Even 2,820.
And all without so much as even lifting your petticoats, Mary.
Do you still want to stay?
I suppose so.
If you think we can, yes, please, ma'am.
Good girl. You, too, Merriman?
Oh, well, ma'am, there are one or two difficulties.
As you know, I'm...
stop being so awkward, you old misery.
Course you'll stay.
What?
Who else is barmy enough to have you?
Morning, Alf. Morning, ma'am.
Got me stuff ready, then?
Yes, ma'am.
Good. Give it to Johnny. Ta.
Morning.
Oh, no. I thought I was too bleeding happy.
Here we go again.
That will do, snotty-nose.
You said it.
It's my privilege. I'm the gaffer.
Come on.
Good morning.
Have mercy on the merchandise,
Mrs. Trotter.
That's done you no harm, has it?
Now, what harm's
that poor old chicken done you?
Get no chance to, Ben Smythe. Won't be me eating it.
Here, tell me, Mrs. Trotter.
Why don't you never come after we've opened
like everyone else does?
No one comes every day at this time,
heralding the bleeding dawn.
I do.
Oh, granted, you do, yeah.
Here, come to think of it,
I haven't seen you for a few days.
I thought perhaps you'd been coming
before I'd even got here.
Tell me, Ben, if they're not fresh now,
what are they gonna be like when you do open?
Not fresh?!
Put your cap over your ears, Jamie.
I think he's gonna start blinding.
They're the freshest in the market, bar none.
Oh, yeah?
Here, you like a bargain, don't you?
I'm listening.
How about a quick kiss and a cuddle
round the back of the next stall?
And while we're round there,
I'll nick you the finest cauliflower
this side of the Bermondsey Flower Show.
Nobody kisses and cuddles this time of the morning,
at least not for a bleeding cauliflower.
How much are the quail?
A tanner... cheapest in the market.
Tanner for two, eh?
For one.
Here, tomorrow morning, fetch the police.
The cheapest and the freshest?
That bird, an hour ago,
was looking forward to a long and happy life.
Poor sod. Whoa!
Oh, God.
For a minute, I thought it was still alive and kicking.
I'll give you 4 pence.
4 pence?
4 pence.
Mrs. Trotter,
I've got a wife and God knows how many kids.
I lose count.
4 pence, Ben.
Get 'em ready, Jamie.
She's got that look on her face again.
Thank you, Ben. You're a gentleman.
I'll take half a dozen.
And the best cauliflower
from the Bermondsey Flower Show
from the back of the next stall,
and I'll stop here while you get it.
Have you gone barmy, Mrs. Trotter?
Or do you think I have? I mean, which is it?
All I said...
I know damn well what you said.
You want me to buy from you
when you're already up to the eyebrows in debt
with what you bought from me.
I know I am. That's why I'm suggesting it.
In fact, I'll tell you how much you're in debt
just to prove I'm not barmy.
I can tell you how much: 28 pounds, 7 shillings.
One moment, young woman.
Have patience for one moment.
28 pounds, 7 shillings.
Right. Thank you.
Now, in the absence of an apology,
perhaps you'd be so good as to give me a hearing.
Mrs. Trotter...
All I'm suggesting is a way to pay it off,
since I can't pay it off with money.
Oh, I see.
No money changes hands.
What I sell you,
you just knock off me bill.
Oh, you do get excited, don't you?
No wonder you've got gout.
Now, how much do you charge your customers for quail?
Half a crown, cooked.
Hmm. Make a nice profit there, don't you?
We do have overheads.
How does this sound to you?
Two bob cooked, shilling raw.
What? Two shillings, cooked by you?
So if you charge two and a penny,
you're still making a profit, aren't you?
All you have to do is hand them over the counter.
And you'd be doing the cooking?
With me own clever hands.
Taste better than yours, won't they?
How many can I have?
Half a dozen.
You can have them by teatime.
You'll charge two and bloody 7, won't you?
WOMAN: Young man, you don't understand.
We've none left.
What do you mean, you've none left?
It's just that we've none left, Mrs. Caradine.
I'm sorry.
What good is sorry, young man?
How many mouths do I feed with sorry?
I demand to see the manager.
"I demand to see the manager."
It's beginning to sound like a musical chorus.
Trouble? Every day.
Uh, Mr. Mather...
It's Lord Ealing's housekeeper.
If she wasn't in,
she'd be somebody else in, wouldn't she?
She's going potty
'cause we've sold out of veal and ham pies.
I'm a regular customer. Tell him.
Yes, Mrs. Caradine, and most highly valued.
I'm so very sorry, madam,
but we're always sold out by this time.
We just can't make enough...
It's every day the same.
Well, yes, madam. That's what I'm saying.
Well, it's not good enough, is it?
Perhaps if you could call earlier.
Perhaps if you could save me some.
Oh, I'm sorry, madam,
but that's what everyone asks me to do.
There's nothing more to be said, then, is there?
I apologize.
[sighs]
Will that be all, then, madam?
Have to be, won't it?
Excuse me.
That's, uh, the turkey, a ham,
the sausages, and the figs.
That'll be 34 and sixpence.
The driver will deliver within the hour.
So half a dozen quail, two bob each,
is 12 shillings off me bill, right?
Uh, yes. Yes. Agreed.
Not the most satisfied of customers, eh?
Oh, I'm in the wrong trade for that.
I'd have to be a magician.
Why don't you be, then?
Eh?
You could have veal and ham pies
coming out of Mrs. Caradine's hat...
and her bloomers, too, by way of an encore.
What are you talking about?
Pies... veal and ham pies;
pork pies; what you like.
You're not selling those as well?
As many as you like.
I buy the veal, the pork, the ham.
I bake the pies.
All you do Mr. Mather is smile at your customers;
knock 'em off me bill.
Well, I'd need hundreds.
Hundreds you shall have. Thousands'd be better.
How much a pie?
What weight?
Oh, a pound, say... veal and ham.
11 pence, ha'penny.
9 pence.
I can't go a farthing under 11 pence, ha'penny.
And I can't go a farthing over 9 pence.
Good day, then, Mr. Mather.
The quail will be ready as arranged
if Mr. Ellis has time to collect them.
10 pence, farthing.
Done.
10 pence, ha'penny.
You said done.
Mr. Mather,
we're not just talking about ordinary pies.
We're talking about Louisa Trotter's pies.
Hmm.
10 pence, ha'penny, then.
Oh, Mr. Mather, you do strike a hard bargain.
♪ Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay ♪
♪ Ta-ra-ra ♪
[sighs, then sniffs]
♪ Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay ♪
[humming]
♪ Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay ♪
♪ Ta-ra-ra ♪
that's what I said, Mr. Merriman.
What? In her sitting room?
That's right.
Then the small wardrobe
and the tallboy likewise...
all her bedroom stuff.
Into the sitting room?
Into the sitting room.
Can you give me one sane reason why?
Yes...because she said so.
I should leave you to handle the rest,
'cause I should be in the kitchen.
I'm only a woman. You're a man.
I'm an old man, Mary... a very old man.
I should be lying on a bed at this time of day,
not carting it up and down stairs.
Well, you did have a sitdown halfway
to get your breath back.
Yes. Well, I'm a waiter, not a furniture remover.
Well, that must have been in a previous life...
two months ago.
MERRIMAN: Excuse me, ma'am.
Yeah? What is it?
Your bedroom furniture's been removed
to your sitting room, as instructed.
Yeah? What of it?
Which means your bedroom has no furniture in it
and your sitting room has your sitting room furniture
and your bedroom furniture in it.
Merriman, if I sleep downstairs,
I can spend more time in the kitchen.
And the more time I spend in the kitchen,
the sooner I can get back to sleeping
in me bedroom.
Sunk in yet, has it?
Hey?
Sunk in?
No. Well, it wouldn't, would it?
You're not a woman.
Are you taking a little holiday, Mary?
Oh, sorry, ma'am.
MERRIMAN: Ma'am? Excuse me, ma'am.
Yeah? What is it?
It's your parents, ma'am...
Mr. And Mrs. Leyton.
What? Here?
In the hall.
Ooh, blimey.
Mary, make a pot of tea, luv...
tea and biscuits.
Dump 'em in my room. There's a dear.
He's such a good husband, Louisa...or was.
He adores you.
Yeah. Makes it all the worse, doesn't it?
He should never have come sniveling to you.
I think it was his sister's idea.
Yeah. Everything's his sister's idea.
Did she tell him to tell you
what a bitch I am?
MRS. LEYTON: He just seemed to apologize, mostly.
Louisa, you can't pay it all off.
You can't do the impossible...
not on your own.
I'm not on me own, am I?
I don't count servants.
Well, I do.
Hasn't, um...
Hasn't he offered to help?
He?
You know, your, um, old friend.
Who's that, then?
The king, girl.
If Edward knew the trouble...
his majesty.
Oh, his majesty.
Surely, if he knew the trouble you was in...
Yeah, he's offered. He's written to me...
well, his equerry has... 2 or 3 times.
Oh, there you are.
Then everything's all right. I told you, Vi.
Mum, dad, I want no one's help.
If he hadn't helped me in the first place,
I wouldn't need help now.
Anyway, needing's different from wanting.
I'll be beholden to no one.
Louisa...
And don't you start
putting your hand in your pocket, dad.
You can't afford it,
and I wouldn't take it from you anyhow.
No.
Yeah, well, we, um...
We thought you'd want to be independent.
You always were.
Yes, but we still wanted to come and see you...
you know, it being Christmas eve and everything...
to, well, because...
Because we were worried about you.
That's it. We was worried how you was keeping,
since we hadn't heard from you for so long...
you know, ages and ages.
Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, mum.
I've been up to me eyes in it.
I will write, you know, like I used to...
Ages and ages and ages.
Months, and not a dicky-bird.
We used to look forward to your little letters
coming so regular.
Well, I mean apart from the money inside.
Oh, that apart.
Oh, heavens above, no.
I mean the letters themselves
and all your news and...
Whether you was having a nice time.
Mmm. What lovely shortbread. Do you make it yourself?
Yeah, of course.
Of course she did. Perfect.
Do you want another cup of tea, dad?
Oh, yeah.
Ta.
Louisa...
I may be wrong, but, um,
if the king's offered you help,
I mean, well, isn't it really,
you know, only common courtesy to...
here you are. Oh.
I've got a little Christmas box
for you, by the way.
For us?
Yeah. It's nothing much...
just a few quid.
Now, we couldn't take money from you, Louisa...
not when you're working so hard to...
All the hours God sends.
That wouldn't be right on our part.
No, not when you're trying to save.
I've been saving it for you.
Well...
Thank you, Louisa. You're a...
You're a good girl.
Thoughtful.
Always were.
Excuse me, ma'am,
but whatever it is has been simmering now
for a good 15 minutes, and...
Oh, yes. Thanks Mary. Right away.
Well, we won't impose on you if you're busy, Louisa,
but we just had to come, you know, have a nice chat.
Louisa?
How long have you had your bed in here, then?
Oh, a few months.
Good idea. Make sure you get plenty of rest.
LOUISA: Dinner for 8:
Lieutenant General Dennises, Knightsbridge.
Melons glaces.
Yeah.
Consommé de volaille.
Um... Here.
Oh, sorry. Yeah.
Saumon grillé
Grilled salmon? Yes.
Yeah. Tartar sauce?
Yes, of course.
Côtelettes de mouton
Uh, yeah.
Soufflé de caillerie?
Ma'am, here are 3 more commissions...
well, inquiries, that is.
The Duchess of Launde, January 2, luncheon for 12;
Lady Blackwater, also January 2, supper for 4;
Mrs. Lionel Watson, January 5, dinner for 8.
Accept. Which?
All of them; all 3.
I don't think you can, ma'am.
Already on January 5, you're doing a luncheon for 12.
Accept them. We'll manage.
[Mary crying]
It's all right, Merriman.
Go and rest, Mary.
How, ma'am?
There's the pans to scour,
the fish to clean, the vegetables to do,
and there's nothing's even started yet.
Go on. Go and rest.
You can have 40 winks... well, 39.
You don't rest. You never rest.
Oh, don't be simple. It's me I'm working for.
I know what I'll get out of it
when it's all over.
What do you get out of it, eh?
Well, I'll have been a help.
Without me, you mightn't have done it so quick.
No, I wouldn't have done it at all...
if I ever do, that is.
I'm all right now.
Are you sure? Yeah.
Well, you could have had 10 minutes.
Oh, I could have done the fish in that time.
Mary, ordinary people call it fish.
We're not ordinary.
Fish have names where we come from.
Salmon, then.
Saumon.
Oy, Mary?
Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas, ma'am.
Is she very, very poorly, doctor?
Well, I don't think Cruickshank's Salts
would ever want her
as an advertisement for glowing health...
working herself to exhaustion,
barely eating, barely sleeping.
How long has this suicidal business been going on?
All winter.
Will she soon be better, sir, do you think?
Only with plenty of rest
and regular meals and no work.
And the same applies to you, by the look of you.
Oh, I get more rest than she does.
She has the mental worry as well, you see.
My auntie Gwyn says that
that aggravates the sickness even worse.
Oh, does she?
Oh, yes, sir, in her opinion.
I'm most grateful.
Now, it's up to you, young lady,
to see that Mrs. Trotter eats properly
and rests properly from now on.
Those are strict orders.
And it's your responsibility to see that she obeys.
Yes, sir. I'll try, sir.
A kitchen maid is only allowed to give orders
to a scullery maid as a rule...
only we haven't got a scullery maid.
She shouldn't get up at all tomorrow...
not for two days at least.
Very good, sir.
LOUISA: Mary?
Oh.
All this palaver,
I forgot to put the brandy
in the chicken liver pates.
Bring me the livers and a cheap bottle.
I'll mix them in here.
No, ma'am.
What the hell do you mean, no?
I mean no.
Duckie, doctors are only doctors.
They're not emperors of India
and defenders of the bleeding faith.
The answer's still no.
I'd like that to be understood, please.
Thank you.
[whispering] well done, nurse.
Mr. Merriman?
Mr. Merriman!
I'm reading the paper.
When I read, I read. I don't talk.
What is it that I'm in sometimes,
when I don't know what to do
and you say I'm in something?
I'm in a certain word.
Quandary.
Oh, that's it. Quandary.
Well, I'm in one again.
Good.
Before she got took poorly,
she'd be up and about by now.
But on the other hand, the doctor said
she's to stay in bed all day.
So the quandary is, should I take her
her morning pot of tea or not?
That's the quandary in question.
Mary, I'm trying to read the newspaper...
yesterday's newspaper.
The time we have to get up in this establishment,
there's no such thing as today's.
Mr. Merriman, if she rests and convalesces
and does less cooking and earns less money,
well, it's all over, isn't it?
We will be on the street.
One of the attributes of old age is wisdom.
In my wisdom,
I said you were both mad at the time,
and I was right.
You said no such thing.
Well, I thought it.
Well, I'll take her the tea,
and if she's sleeping, I'll bring it back.
Yeah.
Mr. Merriman! Mr. Merriman!
Morning to you.
LOUISA: 21...
22, 23, 24...
25, 26, 27, 28...
I know you, don't I?
I don't think so.
So if you wouldn't mind...
It's Louisa.
Is it? Well, I don't know you
from Adam and Eve nor the serpent.
So shift your carcass and let me get on.
Louisa, stop it.
You know who I am, all right.
I was wondering if there's any chance
of a lift to Piccadilly Circus.
Please, Mr. Tyrrell,
get on your way and let me get on mine, eh?
Mr. Tyrrell?
It was Mr. Charlie the first time we met.
As I remember it,
you're a rogue, vagabond, rake,
and seducer of innocent young kitchen maids.
Attempted seducer; failed seducer.
It was the second time we met
you called me Mr. Charlie.
How are you, Louisa?
I'm well.
Now can I get on with me business?
And your husband?
He ain't me husband no more.
I see.
See what? What is there to see?
Louisa, what on earth are you doing
at this time of the morning
pushing a barrow?
In the first place, I'm minding me own business.
In the second place, whatever I'm doing
is a damn sight more respectable than you...
stood here, this time of the morning,
St. James, in your evening suit.
I don't think you are well, actually.
You don't look well.
Where can I call on you?
Why? Do you want to or something?
Of course I do.
Bentinck Hotel, if you like.
There ain't no guests anymore.
Ain't an hotel anymore.
You can do what you like.
You won't object?
Up to you, isn't it?
Louisa, we are old friends.
Good morning.
Are you sure you're all right?
I told you I was, didn't I?
[drops stick]
Louisa, are you all right?
Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right.
We'd better get you home.
No, no, Mr. Charlie. I'll be all right.
It's all right, Louisa.
[nurse speaking indistinctly]
Mary.
I...couldn't think what to bring you
without spending your money.
I was in a quandary.
I brought quail in aspic.
Mr. Tyrrell said it was horrible...
Collapsing in the street.
He thought you was dying.
And if you are, ma'am,
I don't think you must expect us to feel sorry.
You was supposed to stay in bed.
We did our best.
Mr. Tyrrell?
Pardon, ma'am?
When did you see Mr. Tyrrell?
He's called at the hotel every day since it happened
to tell us how you were,
but he wouldn't let me come till today.
Oh, Mr. Merriman's notified Viscount Stanley
and the honorable George Campbell
that they'll have to whistle for their dinners;
that everything's been canceled.
They wished you better.
I heard Mr. Merriman praying last night.
That's something I've never heard him do before.
Perhaps it was for [indistinct].
[sniffling]
Don't cry, Mary.
I'm not.
Now, you will try and get well
this time, won't you, ma'am?
The kitchen can wait.
The kitchen can blow itself up,
for all I care.
I'm gonna pack the whole thing in.
To hell with my debts.
All I want to do now is die in peace.
If you don't pay your debts, ma'am,
they'll throw you out of the hotel.
You'll have nowhere to live.
Well, that won't matter much
if I'm dead, will it?
We tried.
That's supposed to be the most important thing.
It's supposed to be.
And we failed.
Anyway... It don't matter.
What's it matter?
Some people don't even get bread.
Most people.
Saw a lot of them like that when I was a girl.
I thought if I didn't see them no more,
they wouldn't be there.
But I have.
They are.
I don't know what to say to cheer you up, girl.
Nothing, I suppose.
There is nothing.
Hello, Mary.
I think she's sleeping, sir.
How is she today?
She's never been like this...never.
Louisa?
Charlie.
Twice in 3 days? Must be a nightmare.
5 days. It happened 5 days ago.
Oh, sleep me life away here.
Ta. Who'd you get them for?
The first pretty woman I bumped into.
Louisa, I've been doing some thinking.
Well, the answer's no.
Oh, I know that. Mary told me.
Oh, she did, did she?
She'd repeat it like a catechism.
Yeah, you seem to tell each other a lot,
you and Mary.
It's always about me, I notice.
Nothing better to do?
What you been thinking about, then?
I'm sorry this is how it's ended,
but I think you were right to do what you did...
making yourself responsible for the debts.
Yeah? You're about the only one that does.
Of course. I'm the only one that understands you.
And me. I understand me. I was a bloody fool.
How's Lord Haslemere these days?
Father?
Oh, still taking long, athletic walks
around his Yorkshire estates...
keeping as fit as he can,
because he thinks I'm waiting for him to die.
Are you?
He'll live forever.
No.
No, I enjoy myself,
occupy myself enjoying the pleasures of London.
They don't keep me fit.
They keep me happy... fairly happy.
You've not changed, have you?
Not in one single respect.
It isn't altogether true
that I enjoy the pleasures of London...
Not as much as I should and could.
I seem to wander from the house of one friend
to the house of the next in circles,
like a fairground Johnny.
Such a nice, posh house
you was gonna have and all.
Carriages, servants, big plays.
You've done nothing, have you?
Which isn't to say I'm not going to.
Same old Charlie.
Louisa, how much would the lease cost on your hotel?
Why?
How much?
1,500 pounds.
I'll buy it.
Who for?
It'll give me what I need, won't it?
Premises; a home in London;
a suite of rooms furnished to my own taste
that I can regard as home;
where I can invite my friends for a change.
No. I don't want charity.
It isn't, for God's sake.
If you don't want to sell, all right.
I'll buy another
or something like that somewhere.
You do that, then. The answer's no.
Please yourself.
I always do.
Evidently.
Would you mind pushing off now?
Visiting time's over... yours, anyway.
You're stupid as well as stubborn, aren't you?
I never knew that.
Look, I want no one's help.
It was being helped that got me where I am now...
at death's door.
Death's door?
You'll live as long as my father.
It's to help me, woman.
Admittedly, I'd be an investment for you,
but so would you be for me...
which, as far as I'm concerned,
is a damn sight more to the point.
Well?
Would I be expected to cook for you...
for you and your friends?
If you were agreeable,
that's precisely what I'd expect.
Well, how, Charlie, lying here?
The only one I'm gonna be cooking for is St. Peter.
Oh, when you're recovered; when it's convenient.
Say, within a month.
A month?
Less?
I'm not a bleeding pit pony.
But you'd have no debts left, would you, blockhead?
It'd be less work for a damn sight more money.
How many months or years do you think it would take
slaving away in that black hole of a kitchen
to earn 1,500 quid?
Think, woman.
Ooh, it's a rum sort of hotel, isn't it?
One guest, one suite of rooms,
and no furniture?
No. The thing's impossible.
It's out of the question.
MAN: 18 guineas, then.
Do I hear 19?
For this superb hooded porter's chair,
do I hear 19 guineas, gentlemen?
Does he? Up to you.
Ooh, it's ever so expensive, isn't it?
I don't remember when I last spent tuppence.
Oh, come along, gentlemen. Do I hear 19 guineas?
Oh, it is nice, though.
I don't know. What do you think?
19's too dear, isn't it?
Yes, it is.
Going for 18 guineas, then. Going...
But not if you really want it.
19!
Thank you, madam.
Any advance on 19?
That's me last bid. I'm not going no higher.
MAN: 20! 21!
AUCTIONEER: 21. Do I hear 22?
Ooh, I bloody well hope not.
Going for 21, then.
Going, going, and gone.
Oh, Charlie. Oh!
Here, let's go now.
I've got me chairs, me dining table,
me hall table, me pictures,
me beautiful hooded chair.
All I need now is a couple more hotels
to put them in.
AUCTIONEER: And now we come to lot 24, gentlemen...
wait a second.
Lady and gentlemen.
Grand piano, handiwork of Mr. Steinway.
Beautiful to look upon and, I have no doubt,
equally beautiful to listen to.
Yes?
I don't want a piano.
Not for you. For me.
Now, who's going to start the bidding at,
shall we say, 25 guineas?
Thank you, sir.
26.
You don't even play.
I can learn, can't I?
LOUISA: Morning, George.
Well, what do you think?
Looks like a tart's bedroom.
Oh, I wouldn't say that.
Well, you should know.
[sighs]
How many quail have you cost me, then?
Bloody hundreds.
God knows how many pork pies.
[piano playing]
[knock on door]
If you're delivering furniture, come in.
If you're not, why aren't you?
Make yourself at home.
Thank you. What a mess.
What do I sit on... the piano?
Not but it'd sound much better
than it did when I come in.
I thought I was doing rather well.
Louisa, did we buy any wardrobes at all?
Yeah. They're coming tomorrow.
Typical. My man's bringing
all my clothes this afternoon.
Louisa, why is it
that my rooms are still in this mess
when you've done up the entire hotel?
I don't know how you do it.
Yeah. I think I get carried away.
I've noticed that before.
No going back now.
No, I suppose not.
Happy?
Worried.
Worried, but happy?
Worried, but worried. I think I must be barmy.
When I decided to open a suite of rooms for you,
well, I think I was just delirious.
Then, being me, what do I go and do next?
Open all the rooms;
open the whole bleeding hotel.
That's not delirious. That's plain barmy.
Oh, Charlie, I'm right back at the beginning again...
all the slaving and sweating to pay off me debts.
What am I doing but landing meself in more of them?
Hell of a sight more.
But you're getting an entire new hotel, woman.
Louisa, how many times do I have to explain?
Yeah, but what if it fails?
It won't. It might.
No.
It's what you wanted. You won't let it fail.
It's all you've ever wanted
from life, isn't it?
Yeah. You know it is.
Absolutely all?
An hotel, nothing more?
Well, and its guests...
especially if they're anything like me first...
and they appreciate me cooking.
Yeah, that's all.
And no husbands?
No, certainly no husbands.
No lovers?
Most certainly no husbands.
Anyway, I'm gonna be slaving away in the kitchen
for your bleeding lovers.
What about you, Charlie?
Apart from the regiment of women
I'm gonna be cooking for,
what do you want out of life, eh?
You could have had the pick of society.
You know that, don't you?
Here, you forget I already have had.
Well, the pick of society picked me.
Well, is it your piano?
Is that what you want... be a great pianist?
I'll surprise you.
I'll learn to play one day.
It's always "One day," eh, Charlie?
Ah, there's plenty of time.
There's never plenty of time, luv.
Not for things that matter.
For example,
tell you what I've got for your dinner:
melon followed by turbot followed by roast beef
followed by cherries in brandy.
Tempting?
Well, I only hope she knows what she's doing.
I said, I only hope she knows what she's doing!
Mr. Merriman!
You only hope she knows what she's doing.
Yes.
So do I.
Who?
Mrs. Trotter.
I agree.
She never has yet.
She's too young to start now.
He's not what he seems, though, Mr. Merriman.
Good.
Who?
Mr. Tyrrell.
He's no gentleman, really.
Oh?
I know what he gets up to.
I was the tweeny maid at Lord Henry.
Lord Henry's his uncle.
And what does he get up to?
Oh, what doesn't he get up to?
Mary, when I want lessons in Welsh,
I'll ask for them.
Speak English.
Why is Mr. Tyrrell no gentleman?
No female servant was safe.
For every poor girl who made his bed every day,
there was always one
helping him to unmake it every night,
and every night a different one.
Well, then, he is a gentleman.
Huh?
That's what gentlemen are like...all gentlemen.
That's what makes them gentlemen. Understand?
No.
Well, have patience. You will.
[doorbell ringing]
Well, just one moment, then, mister, uh...
mister...what was it?
Starr. Mr. Starr.
Two rs.
Oh, yes. Yes, I see.
The...the dog's with you, is he?
Day and night.
Yes.
[knock on door]
Come in.
[door opens]
There's a Mr. Starr to see you, ma'am.
Says he has an appointment.
He appears to have what is described
as a dog with him, ma'am.
His name is Fred, ma'am.
What?
We're here re your advertisement in the "Times," madam,
re application for the position re hall porter.
Oh, yeah, right.
Uh, thank you, Merriman.
Come in, Mr. Starr.
Was it Starr?
It was, ma'am, and is... with two rs.
Do sit down... both of you.
Thank you, Mrs. Trotter.
Now stay, boy. Stay.
And no arguments.
Well, now, where shall I start?
I'm not that sure where to start.
I'm not all that used to interviewing.
That's perfectly all right, madam. We are.
Well, I think we might begin by establishing,
what exactly is the remuneration you have in mind?
Oh, yes. That's right.
30 quid a year, all found,
plus tips, of course.
Of course.
Which, in the case of hall porter,
are extremely...
indeed they are. Correct, Fred?
Correct.
Proceed, ma'am.
Well, now...
As you'll understand,
it's a highly responsible position,
hall porter, and...
And you would wish for a man of experience.
Experience, yes.
What I'm looking for is a man of experience.
Good. Look no further, ma'am.
A man with excellent references, I imagine.
Yes.
Have you references, Mr. Starr?
The very best, Mrs. Trotter.
I am my references.
Yes, Fred? Yes, indeed.
Oh. Uh, the experience you talk about.
Where have you worked previous?
Here and there, madam.
I see. Doing what?
This and that.
Oh.
You seem a military sort of gentleman.
Did you fight in the Boer War?
Very possibly.
Oh.
Well, I'd say you did...
And won.
Well, now...
Well, now, Fred and I would be grateful
if you'd be as frank with us, madam, as we have with you.
And what we'd like to know are:
1, the number of guests to whom we are to be of service;
2, whether Fred, of course, will be welcome.
No Fred, no yours truly.
Correct, Fred? Correct.
3, the number and character
of the remainder of the staff;
4, what arrangements could be made satisfactory to...
Come on, Katie.
At least it's nice and warm in here.
Uh, can I help you ladies?
Oh, I doubt it, pal,
but it wouldn't cost that much to try.
Well, this is the new hotel, isn't it?
Well, yes, or will be in a day or two.
Oh. Not yet, then?
Well, no, we're not open yet.
Oh. We was hoping for a bit of trade,
if you'd any gentlemen staying.
MARY: Out!
Go on, both of you. Skedaddle.
Hey, who the hell are you talking to,
little bloody skivvy?
You, so get out,
and shut the door behind you.
This is gonna be a hotel, isn't it?
Not to your kind.
Oh, they're all our kind, dear.
How long have you been down from the mountain, then?
Go on. Get out.
Mr. Merriman, help me get them out.
What's going on out here, for God's sake?
It was two ladies, sort of, ma'am.
They wanted to know if they could...
Oh, a couple of tarts, ma'am.
They had the effrontery to want to...
Anyway, I chucked them out, ma'am.
No bones broken, then?
MARY: No, ma'am.
That's all right, then.
Mary, Mr. Starr.
Mr. Starr is gonna join us as hall porter.
And Fred.
Mr. Merriman you already know.
Yes.
Hello.
Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss.
So we'll see you as arranged, then, Starr.
At your service, ma'am.
And a pleasure to be so.
Go on, Fred.
He's, uh...
He's what you had in mind, would you say, ma'am?
I don't know. I don't know nothing about him.
He interviewed me.
But you engaged him.
Yeah. I think that's why I engaged him.
I like mysteries.
Oh, Mary, one little thing.
Yes, ma'am?
When you chuck ladies out in the future,
do it gently, eh? Nicely.
What ladies, ma'am?
That'll do, Mary.
They were streetwalkers, ma'am.
Which is another word for working girls, Mary,
same as us.
I've told you before, you mustn't be a snob.
Do you like my new cap?
Oh, I wish we wasn't opening today.
Wish we was opening next week.
You look beautiful.
Tomorrow, even; this afternoon.
Oh, hell, Mary, what do you think?
That you look very beautiful.
I don't mean that.
I know you don't.
Thanks.
In fact, thanks for everything.
Ready?
Ready. Good luck, ma'am.
Thanks. You deserve it.
LOUISA: Good morning,
staff of the Bentinck Hotel...
and Fred.
TOGETHER: Good morning, ma'am.
Well, if you was expecting
a grand speech,
I'm afraid that was it...
except perhaps to say
God save the king.
TOGETHER: God save the king.
And God save the Bentinck
while he's about it.
Righto, Starr, open the door,
with doodah and fanfare of trumpets.
STARR: Ma'am.
[loud pop]
Oh, looks suspiciously like a jeroboam of champagne to me.
LOUISA: Cherry-bum of champagne.
Yes, a cherry-bum.
Louisa, where are the glasses?
I'd be delighted for you all to join me.
Oh, thank you, Mr. Tyrrell.
Come on, everyone. My room.
Surely not the staff, ma'am.
Especially the staff, Starr.
Champagne, 10:30 in the morning?
I'm ashamed of meself, I'm happy to say.
Come on.
Oh! Cold out there, by God.
Hey, you, come here.
Yes, sir?
Never mind the "Yes, sir."
I've got a cabful of luggage out there.
Bring it in here, and damn sharpish.
Yes, sir. At once, sir.
Just a moment, Starr.
For what purpose, may I ask?
For what purpose?
This is a hotel, isn't it, hmm?
Well, I want a room...
the biggest and the best you've got,
and a damn sight less impudence from you.
I don't think I caught your name, did I?
Oh, didn't you, now?
No, I didn't.
Oh. Then I suggest "Sir" will do from you.
Is "Sir" your title?
It is the custom, madam, for customers.
Atkinson... Mr. Josiah Atkinson,
proprietor of the Atkinson
Coal Mining Company, Northamptonshire.
I want a room befitting that position.
You mean in the coal cellar?
What?
I don't think we have any rooms available.
Good morning.
Madam, we've plenty of rooms available...
almost all of them.
Yeah, but not for the likes of jumped-up
little snotty-noses like Mr. Atkinson.
If you'd care to try an ordinary hotel,
I'm sure they'd be happy to oblige.
Scarper, Josh. Sling your hook.
Well, I don't understand.
That'll be all, Starr, if you catch me meaning.
Certainly, ma'am.
ATKINSON: Wait.
STARR: Good morning, sir.
[Atkinson speaking indistinctly]
STARR: Oops. Mind the step.
Lovely.
Right. Come on, everyone,
while the bubbly's still fizzing;
before he drinks the lot.
He was a wealthy man, ma'am.
I don't think so, dear. All he had was money.
Ma'am, you're always telling me
I mustn't be a snob.
And so you mustn't.
And I should know. I am one.
Oh, I don't understand.
Understand what, barmy?
What you're doing.
Doing? I'm starting as I mean to go on.
LOUISA: Right. Where's me glasses?
[all talking at once]