Asylum

We should get this repaired.

I'm going to bed. Good night.

I'll be up soon.

Now, it gives me great pleasure

to welcome...

our new deputy superintendent,

Dr. Max Raphael.

And we also welcome his wife, Stella,

and their fine young fellow, Charlie.

And we wish you many contented years

here, among the confined and confused.

I refer, of course, to the present

company, not to the patients.

Please forgive the latecomer.

A rather delicate moment

with our new matricide.

- Did I miss anything?

- Only Jack's speech. Perfect timing.

Peter, I'd like to introduce you

to Mrs. Raphael.

Yes, of course. I'm so sorry.

Peter Cleave.

- How do you do?

- Stella Raphael.

Peter is our longest-serving doctor here.

I'm fixtures and fittings.

Forgive me. I need that sausage.

Excuse me.

- What's your field, Dr. Cleave?

- Peter, please.

I tend to deal with the extreme cases.

My particular interest...

is sexual pathology

and its associated catastrophes.

- And what does your wife make of that?

- She doesn't. I'm not.

I spend my life

immersed in the passions of others.

Dangerous sport, love.

I'm not sure I have the stomach for it.

I've been married for 12 years.

I'm not sure

I've ever thought of it as a sport.

Well, marriage

is a different beast entirely.

I'm talking about passion.

What did Cleave

have to say for himself?

This and that. I rather liked him.

Trust me, he's got fangs.

- Who has?

- Count Dracula.

He wanted my job.

Thought he deserved it

for his years of loyalty.

Why didn't you speak

to any of the other wives?

There wasn't time.

But I'm so looking forward

to our coffee mornings.

You will involve yourself

in the life of the hospital.

- It's expected.

- Of course.

Now, the band. I thought last year's

was splendid. Agreed?

Yes, but can we have

some slower numbers this time?

I've only just recovered.

It was exhausting.

Rebook the band, subject to slowies.

Show of hands.

Carried.

Next, do I have any takers for the cake?

Stella, would you like to commandeer

the fruitcake?

- I'd be honored.

- Lovely.

And if you'll forgive the reminder,

no liqueur.

Alcohol, dear.

Alcohol for the patients, verboten.

Help me! Help me!

Help me! Help me! Help! Help me!

Are you joining us?

No, I'm not. No.

- It's this way.

- No.

But you're not allowed in the corridor!

Come back!

You're going the wrong way!

- I'm so sorry.

- No bother.

Thank you.

I don't mean to nanny,

but it might be wise...

to restrict yourself

to the public areas of the hospital.

One never quite knows

what one might find.

Do the male and female patients

ever mix?

Yes, of course.

At the annual hospital ball.

A perfect opportunity to mingle.

Believe me, once a year is ample.

- Can I give you a hand, Mrs. Bain?

- No.

Thank you, Mrs. Raphael.

How did my predecessor fill her days?

She sewed. Tapestry.

One year, she did all the hospital,

seen from above.

Mommy! Come and see!

- What, darling?

- Come and see!

Edgar, this is my mother.

We've invented a test of strength.

Will you time us?

I don't have my watch on, darling.

Just count then.

Ready and lift.

Go.

Put him down.

Sorry. I didn't see you there,

Mrs. Raphael.

Come on, Charlie.

Thank you, Mrs. Bain.

Charlie's made a new friend,

that man doing the glasshouse.

- Oh, good.

- Is he safe?

He wouldn't be in our garden

if he wasn't.

Working is a privilege.

It can take years to earn it.

They've all been fully vetted.

- Is he one of yours?

- No, Cleave's. His favorite, I think.

- Favorite?

- It's not unusual to have a pet patient.

Who's yours?

You.

Why is Peter Cleave so taken with him?

You know him,

fancies himself an aesthete...

and the fellow used to be a sculptor.

What did he do?

Heads, I think.

- No, I meant...

- I know what you meant.

I interviewed him myself.

Charlie is perfectly safe.

Hello.

I'm sorry about the other day.

I hope you didn't get into trouble.

No more than I'm in already,

Mrs. Raphael.

My husband tells me

you were a sculptor.

I still am.

- May I ask how long you've been here?

- You may.

And?

Six years.

I killed my wife.

She betrayed me.

Mrs. Raphael.

What have you done to him?

Mrs. Raphael!

He was climbing a tree. He fell.

Can Edgar stay for tea?

- I'm afraid he can't. He...

- I've got to get back to work, Charlie.

Thanks.

How is he?

He's fine, thank you.

I don't think

he'll be climbing any trees just yet.

I don't know. Not my position...

but I reckon he's an adventurer.

You might be right.

I suppose he gets that from you.

I doubt it.

It must be your husband then.

Interesting dress.

- Is that a compliment?

- Yes.

Might it be a touch too revealing,

given the occasion?

I'll mention it to my dressmaker.

What a good idea.

United front.

May I have the pleasure?

- Can you keep a secret?

- Depends what it is.

Jack told me

he's planning to retire next year.

I wonder who he's recommending

as his successor.

- Would it be someone I know?

- It would.

- Is it Peter Cleave?

- Very droll.

Congratulations. That's wonderful news.

It'll be a huge commitment

for both of us.

I know it's not exactly ideal here

for you and Charlie, but it'll change.

We'll have that house and a garden.

We'll be able to settle.

Thank you for dancing with me.

I can't take those.

You could take what they mean.

- Hello, Mr. Archer.

- Edgar.

Break over!

How are you finding Mrs. Raphael?

I don't have much to do with her.

I'm busy with my work.

But Mr. Archer tells me

of your recent interest in horticulture.

She's kind to me. I gave her

some flowers a few weeks ago.

And you danced with her.

Only to show you

I can behave myself with a woman.

I don't doubt it.

- You're pleased with my progress?

- I'm not here to judge you.

But, yes,

you're progressing as one would want.

And, in time...

work duties lead to my release?

Have patience, Edgar.

We still have many mountains to climb.

I've always done

everything you've asked.

Indeed, but that does not make you

ready for the world.

- But you've cured me.

- Of what exactly?

Severe personality disorder...

with features of morbid jealousy.

Continue with your work,

and we'll continue to take a view.

Any news on the job?

You'll be the first to know.

Stella behaving herself?

Yes, Mother.

That fellow's done wonders

with your glasshouse.

Yes, it's scrubbed up rather well,

hasn't it?

Our rockery resembles Berlin in '45.

Perhaps you could pass him over to us.

I don't know if it's my imagination,

but isn't he rather attractive?

- It's your imagination.

- He is attractive.

- Did he do something rather nasty?

- He murdered his wife.

Obviously sane.

Can't think why we got him.

What will happen to him?

I have no idea.

That's Peter's department.

I suspect he will be overhauling

rockeries for a good few years to come.

Here's to locking the door

and throwing away the key.

What the hell is wrong with you?

You had no right to say that.

The way he casually dismissed that

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