Albert Nobbs Page #2

- Get up off the floor!

- No! Don't!

Get ahold of yourself!

You'll wake the entire f***ing hotel!

- You won't tell on me?

- Now, stop with your noise!

What were you doing jumping around

like that for anyway?

It was... It was a ea.

I'm a martyr to eas.

You must have brought one in with you.

I'll be covered

in blotches in the morning!

All right, all right.

Just get ahold of yourself.

So why are you dressed like a fella?

No one would have suspected me

till the day of my death,

if it hadn't been for the flea

you brought in.

So...

Mr. Nobbs.

What do you suggest we do now

as far as the sleeping arrangements

are concerned?

Any ideas?

Ah, go on, you take the bed.

I'll go downstairs

and find me a sofa or something.

- No.

- So what then?

Mrs. Baker will have my hide

if she finds out you didn't sleep here.

- You'll take the bed.

- And where will you sleep?

Here I don't mind.

- Don't be pathetic.

- No, please.

I know her.

Just promise you won't tell.

Jesus.

- All right.

- You promise?

You won't tell?

Yes, I will promise anything.

I just need to get some sleep.

Here

Might as well

make yourself comfortable.

And that.

I didn't ask to share

your bloody bed.

Oh, should have gone for a walk.

Bloody hell.

An hour late.

Has nine rung their bell yet?

Yeah, a while ago.

Good morning, Mr. Nobbs.

How was your new bedfellow?

I couldn't sleep. Now I'm late.

Well, I wouldn't worry with that

about being late for one morning.

Good morning, Mr. Nobbs.

- Good morning, Mr...

- Page. Hubert Page.

Charmed to meet you.

- He's a shy one, our Mr. Nobbs.

- Oh, I know.

I'll bring the children's.

Mr. Nobbs?

Mrs. Moore. She prefers roses.

Lilies make her sneeze.

Oh, I see.

Yes, well.

I heard yourself and Mr. Page

chattering away into the small hours.

He's a fine man, he is.

Who?

Mr. Page.

Is he married?

We didn't discuss that sort of thing.

Then what did we discuss?

Horses.

Yes, backing horses.

Mr. Page is a great one

for racing and so on.

For horses.

A... A cup of tea, Mr. Page?

Do you know, Mr. Nobbs,

I believe this house runs on tea.

I must have been offered, oh, three

or four cups of it already this morning.

Well, I wanted to...

Will I take something in

to Mr. Page?

Oh, yes, good girl. He wants

to work through and finish early.

I declare, the smell of paint from that

laundry room is making me feel sick.

Oh, is it the morning

sickness, is it?

You just think you are the funniest

thing on earth, Helen Dawes.

So, everyone,

this is Mr. Joe Mackins.

He's worked all night long

and, believe it or not,

he has tamed that boiler of ours.

Oh, thank God for that.

Now, I've been thinking that we need

a strong man about the house,

So I've asked Mr. Mackins to stay on.

- Mr. Nobbs.

- Ma'am.

After Mr. Mackins has

had something to eat,

- would you show him to the yard room.

- Yes, ma'am.

Welcome to Morrison's, Mr. Mackins.

Mrs. Baker is talking

about a party tomorrow.

It's our fancy-dress ball.

We have it every year.

We don't dress up.

It's only for the guests.

That's a shame.

Where are you from, then?

- Where are you from?

- Can you not tell?

- Cork?

- Cork.

Are you mad, are you?

I'm from Galway, of course.

I declare to me granny,

if you can't tell the difference...

Cork, Galway, it's all the same

to a Dublin man.

Oh, a Jackeen, are you?

Never would have known.

Born and bred in Sheriff Street, where

no sheriff was ever known to venture.

What delicacy have you got for me

this time, Mr. Nobbs?

Don't worry.

Your secret's safe with me.

It's just...

It's just I'm afraid,

you see, in case Mrs. Baker...

Oh.

Mr. Nobbs.

- You're back.

- Tea time.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Not more tea.

Do you want to hear my story?

It's not much to tell.

I was married,

to a house-painter, as it happens,

a drunk and a bully.

One night he came home scattered,

gave me the usual hiding.

Only this time he rounded it off

with an almighty kick,

and that was the end of that.

What did you do?

I took his things, and I left.

This is his work coat,

I kept it, all these years, to

remember him by, the f***ing waster.

So you're still married.

I am.

Her name's Cathleen.

Girls, it's time

to start the dinner.

Hubert Page, have you

dealt with that damp patch yet?

Ah, you're a terrible slave driver,

Mrs. Donaghue, so you are.

And you're just a big ladies man.

So...

you married a woman?

I met a girl as lonely as myself.

We fixed up to get a place,

sharing the rent and all that.

She had her dressmaking,

I had me work.

But people began to talk,

so we got married.

- But...

- What's your name?

Albert.

Your real name.

Albert.

Listen, Mr. Page,

I hear tell you're a betting man.

Have you a tip

for Leopardstown tomorrow?

I'm in need of a winner.

I lost my shirt on Lightning Lad

in the Gold Cup.

Lightning, my ass.

You did a grand job, Mr. Page.

Very salubrious.

Thank you, ma'am.

If only I could afford

to have the whole place done.

Could you possibly tell me

in your expert opinion,

how much do you think

it would cost?

- What, to paint the whole interior?

- Indeed.

Oh, well now...

Uh... let me think.

Um... Well, there's all this out here.

And the coffee room.

- Is that the dining room?

- Yes.

- And how many guest indoors?

- Two.

Two.

Well, it's only an estimate, but...

I'd say it couldn't be done

for under 200 pounds.

200? on, my.

Aren't I the dreamer.

I... I can't even afford a new boiler.

- Good night, Mr. Page.

- Good night, ma'am.

I'll dream of more salubrious rooms.

Jesus.

- Mr. Page.

- God almigh...

You scared the bejesus out of me.

- How did you manage it?

- What?

To marry?

Easy. You could do it yourself.

Waiter.

Mr. Moore, sir?

Mrs. Moore and I would like

a glass of sherry before dinner.

Fetch a couple of glasses

up to the room, will you?

Yes, sir.

It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Donaghue.

Ah, go on with yourself.

I'll be counting the minutes.

Go on.

But...

when did he tell his wife

he was a woman?

Before the wedding?

Or after?

Did she say her wife was a milliner?

Sean, what in the name of God

are you doing letting our Patrick up there?

Come along down slowly.

Mr. Mackins.

Mr. Mackins, help us.

There, you have it.

Oh, my! Patrick, what are you doing

up those ladders?

All right. All right,

now everyone back to work.

Oh, wonderful.

Ladies...

Ladies and gentlemen,

your attention, please.

I now call upon

the mistress of the house

to open the ball.

Mrs. Margaret Baker.

Hear, hear!

Come on, Bunny. Bunny.

Get out.

- Albert, my good man.

- Doctor.

Why aren't you in fancy dress?

Me, sir?

But I'm a waiter.

And I'm a doctor.

We are both disguised as ourselves.

That's a good one, eh?

Tell me your name.

- Let me go.

What's your name?

You're hurting me.

Wait!

Helen.

Helen Dawes.

Dr. Holloran.

- Give me that now.

- Whoa, whoa.

Stop.

Stop.

514 pounds,

17 shillings and sixpence.

Now... seven pence

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