Albatross Page #5

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There's something there.

You seem very distracted.

Is it that you can't take

criticism?

Jonathan...

Dad?

Come on.

Hurry.

Can you sign this, please?

What is it?

Parental consent

for my Leavers' Ball.

Do I have to do this now?

That's a bit

of a lifeless outfit.

Well, it's obviously

reflecting my personality.

She didn't make it.

She's gone.

Are you going to dress up

for the school ball?

Wear something special?

Beth?

What's wrong?

Nothing.

I know What's Wrong.

Beth thinks you love Emelia

more than her.

You wish Emelia

was your daughter.

What was I f***ing thinking?

Hey.

Hey.

Just wondered if you fancied

a cup of tea?

Oh, I can't.

Got to get back,

unfortunately.

My bloody mother.

Are you all right?

My granny died.

When?

Why didn't you call me?

I'm so sorry.

Excuse me, has your room

been cleaned?

Not yet. Yours?

I heard the lady on the desk

moaning about the cleaner

not showing up for work.

What about that pretty one?

If only we were

20 years younger, eh?

Hello.

How are you?

There's been a lot

to sort out, but I'm fine.

You look bloody awful, though.

What's up?

- I've just been sick

every morning this week.

I think it's just a bug.

But isn't that

morning sickness?

Can't be, can it?

We used a condom.

Don't worry.

I'll get you a test.

Emelia?

Can you come up, please?

Emelia, I...

There's something-

- Jonathan-

I'm sorry.

I just want...

I can't write.

I can't do it.

Of course you can.

I quite often think of a quote

by Tolstoy.

"In a writer, there

must always be two people,

the writer and the critic. "

When I was writing

The Cliff House-

For God's sake,

get over The Cliff House.

What do you mean by that?

You haven't lived

a bloody day since, have you?

I mean, what else have you

achieved in the last 20 years?

I've read your other work,

and it sure ain't Tolstoy.

Unless it's the sequel,

Bore and Cease.

What's this?

Nothing.

What was that?

That better not be what

I thought it was, young lady.

"What's this?

What's that?"

What's it got to do

with you, anyway?

It's got everything

to do with me.

You think you're pregnant?

I'm not pregnant.

It's negative.

So why don't you

just f*** off!

Ng]

Had your head so far

up your own ass,

you can't have seen

daylight in years.

Do you even know that you

questioned The Great Gatsby?

You idiot.

You told Truman Capote

he need not to be so obvious...

with his metaphors.

What on Earth

are you talking about?

Half of the stuff I gave you

as samples weren't even mine.

I just copied them

from books by my bed.

Why are you being so cruel

and childish?

Because I am a child.

I'm best friends

with your daughter,

in case you

hadn't noticed.

Emelia, you don't need

to do this.

I can't do this

to Beth any more.

And I hate you

for being able to.

it's all right.

It's going to be all right.

You're okay.

Thank f***.

Come on.

Get your things together.

We're going out.

Okay.

Let's go out.

Let me put some makeup on

my big, fat, swollen face.

Did you know that Beth

is now having sex?

Did you?

Well, she is, so maybe you can

think about that next time

before you celebrate her

for getting sloshed.

I mean, look at the mess

she is in

because of that

stupid girl.

You're just so selfish.

You lock yourself away up here

as if you're curing cancer

instead of churning out

a potboiler once a decade.

You think buying this house

is just your entire contribution

to this family done,

don't you?

That's your bit done,

isn't it?

I've been sleeping

with Emelia.

You have got to be joking.

Shall we get going, then?

Fat f***ing father you are.

You've been f***ing the maid?

If you want to put it

that way, um, yes, I have.

I am going to throw up.

Shall we head out, then?

Let's head out.

So while I've been bringing up

the kids and running this house...

and this business has been

hanging around my neck...

draining every last morsel

of energy I've got left,

you have been up here...

f***ing our daughter's

best friend!

I'm leaving you.

Although, um,

I'll be keeping the house,

so technically,

you'll actually be leaving me.

Beth...

I want you gone by morning.

You can clear all of this out.

Want you to take it with you.

I thought

you were my friend.

I am, Beth.

I am.

Not you,

you f***ing idiot.

Look, Mummy, I'm Emelia!

See, my dad's right.

I can't get anything

through my thick skull.

Beth?

Beth?

Beth, I need to talk to you.

Beth, I'm sorry.

I didn't mean for it

to happen,

any of it, I just...

I want us to be friends again.

We can't be friends,

Emelia.

You're a liar.

No, I'm not.

You... you know everything now.

You must know

why I had to lie.

I did a bad thing.

I'm not talking

about that.

Your name may not be

Serena Molina,

but it certainly isn't

Conan Doyle either.

What?

Do you actually believe

your name is Conan Doyle?

Grandpa,

can I ask you a question?

Yeah.

Was my father the grandson

of Arthur Conan Doyle?

Well, his name was Doyle.

Was it Conan Doyle?

Was he related

to the author?

Your mother did a lot of things

for the right reasons...

and a lot of things

for the wrong reasons.

Your father's name was Doyle.

But...

it wasn't Conan Doyle.

Me and your granny felt

it would have crushed you

to take it away from you

after your mum died.

It seemed... another cruelty.

We knew how much

it meant to you.

This just means

that the foundation...

that my life's built on

is based on lies.

My ambition to be a writer

is based on a lie.

I need to rewrite myself.

But you can.

You're a great writer anyway,

without all that nonsense.

You can't push everybody away,

Emelia.

Your mother Wanted you

so much.

She can't have wanted me

that much.

She jumped off a bridge

onto a main road.

Millie, she was ill.

Her mind wasn't right.

But she'd be so proud of how

clever you've made yourself.

Because of him, without him,

what does it matter?

It's just a name, Emelia.

It's just an albatross

around your neck, really,

but you just

can't see that yet.

You're still special,

you know.

Special bloody needs,

thanks to her.

- You'll stop being angry

with her one day.

And with yourself.

You're a writer.

But if you change your mind...

and want to go

to college instead,

there's money,

you know.

I don't need anything

but to upgrade my tea bags

every once in a while.

Well, don't go bloody mad.

I want some kind of

inheritance.

Daddy!

Hello, my darling.

Are you coming home?

No, I'm not.

I'm just here to drive my

Oxford undergrad to college.

Hi.

Hi.

Thank you for letting me

drive you.

Hi, hello.

Hi.

How are you?

Good.

Hear you got a job.

Yes, I'm teaching

creative writing.

Oh. Huh.

Let's go.

Come on, then.

Grab something.

Yes.

Hi, um... can I get this

printed on A-4 and bound?

Yep, no problem.

Just take a seat.

We've all been changed

From what we were

Our broken hearts

Left smashed on the floor

I can't believe you

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