Easy Virtue Page #4

I don't actually have a picture of Edgar.

Well... mustn't keep you.

No, no. Of course. Looking forward

to getting stuck in to a good book.

Poppy!

You haven't seen the beast, have you?

- The dog?

Nope. I haven't.

Poppy!

Oh, poor, poor Poppy. I'm so sorry.

Larita!

I've been sent in to badger you.

Please help us make up doubles?

Oh, Hilda, I can't. I'm only good

for the cocktails between sets.

We're between sets now.

- You can't possibly want me on court.

Philip! Go get him.

Poppy!

Poppy!

Poppy!

What are you doing?

- Reading.

"Sodom and Gomorrah:

A Biblical Story".

Who gave you this filth?

Go and find the dog! Larita!

Please refrain from giving my daughter

pornographic literature.

Yes, yes, of course.

Oh, and I've volunteered you and Hilda

to perform the Dance of the Dying Swan

for the War Widows' Revue.

We're short on numbers.

Lovely. Anything to help.

Have you seen the dog?

No. Not recently.

Probably out seizing the sunshine

like everyone else.

Poppy!

Furber!

Oh, it's you, Madam. I'm sorry.

Can I get you anything?

A shovel.

- Shovel. Of course.

Go and get Philip a hot toddy.

Philip. You look so... so... so...

- The suspense is killing me.

Poppy!

Oh... sorry.

- It's fine.

Your brother is such

a sharply honed twit.

Where's our beautiful cougar hiding?

- Under a book, I expect.

I wish she wouldn't slack indoors

so much.

Some people would kill

to be indoors with Larita.

She isn't built the same as us.

Still, it is annoying, though.

You're such a sport,

always ready for anything.

I haven't got Lari's beauty

or charm or intelligence.

She is clever, isn't she?

- Hmm...

Clever... and bored.

I don't understand it. I'm not bored,

you're not bored, nobody else is bored.

Your father is, out of his mind.

Father was born bored.

If only she made an effort to play along.

Stop being so torturous, Panda.

You had her playing charades last night.

What more do you want?

John! John?

To tell the truth, I never really liked her.

Crabby, snappy, little b*tch...

I didn't like the dog much, either.

Poor Poppy. Casualty of war.

If I may be so bold, Madam?

These people ride horses.

Lots of horses.

It would be advantageous

to do the same.

And I thought Detroit was a tough town.

# You do something to me

# Something that simply

mystifies me... #

Oh, has your horse run out of gas?

Oh, John, don't hurt it.

Far from it. We've got a hunt coming up.

Poor little mite needs a head start.

Go on... run!

So much to learn about each other.

My curriculum vitae. The brook

is the border of Sarah's property.

Mother always imagined

we'd join forces and invade Surrey.

Oh, and how about

those foot soldiers on high?

That's Davis, Lord Hurst's man.

And there's Lord Hurst...

Closely followed by my mother-in-law.

I wonder what the devil

they're surveying?

Are you disappointed

you didn't marry Sarah?

Of course not. We've seen each other

naked since we were one.

She's part of the... the... the...

scenery.

You can hack it a little while longer,

can't you?

How long is a little?

And don't say two weeks again.

Well, there's the War Widows' Revue,

the craft fair...

...the hunt.

The memorial service...

- What memorial service?

Friends, we are gathered here today

in remembrance

of our missing friend, Poppy.

Oh, Poppy...

Wherever you have chosen

to sow your seeds,

we pray that you are blooming.

We pray that you have gone

to a better place.

Shame we don't know

exactly where that place is...

Anyway, now for a eulogy

from Emily Dickinson, queen of mirth.

"Because I could not stop for death,

he kindly stopped for me.

"The carriage held but just ourselves

and immortality."

Or maybe the carriage didn't stop

and Poppy got squished.

Scraped off the road

and put in a sausage...

Oh, Hilda!

Thank you, Mr Gribble.

Now, ladies and gentlemen,

boys and girls,

behold Reverend Burton

and Marion Whittaker

as they reach for the scissors

in "Samson and Delilah".

Hark! I hear my husband snore!

What the hell happened to Delilah?

Looks like a sock full of oranges.

I'll creep forth on padded foot

and relieve him of his ample follicles.

How hilarious!

- It's meant to be a tragedy!

Then you succeeded

beyond your wildest dreams.

Your father seems

to have a fan.

Don't read too much into it. She was

a godsend during mother's last months.

Sometimes I wonder where they'd be

without each other.

My ample follicles are in dire need

of a trim.

I wouldn't taunt the artistes,

my little dying swans. You're on next.

I've encouraged my girls to undertake

something a little more contemporary.

Hilda and I seem to have a talent

for the can-can.

The traditional can-can,

performed without underwear?

Oh, Philip!

- Anything for you, Philip.

Yes, anything.

That'll raise a bit more than money

for the war widows.

I'm doubling my donation.

- Oh, Pinkie.

Fans at the ready, gentlemen!

All the way from gay Paris,

I give you Miss Hilda Whittaker

and, for her debut performance,

Mrs John Whittaker

doing 'The Can-Can'!

Ooh!

Ooh!

Did... did you?

Is it my imagination, or is your daughter

dancing without her scanties?

Ow!

Bravo!

It's not Lari's fault.

She said it was traditional!

Philip said it, not Larita.

And it was a joke.

Everyone understood that

except Nelly No Knickers here!

Hilda isn't as experienced

as your wife, John. No one is.

If you're not prepared to have a straight

talk to her, then I certainly am.

Don't be ridiculous.

You'll lose a finger.

Lord Hurst will never speak to me.

- Rubbish. I saw you in the back fields.

Preparing the jumps for the hunt!

I'm completely humiliated!

I'll never get a husband now!

After tonight, I'd have thought

they'll be lining up round the block.

I hate her! Hate, hate, hate her!

The advance notices

are sensational, Mrs John.

Is it my imagination or is the cutlery

particularly deafening this evening?

I don't know how many times

I have to say this, Hilda. I am sorry.

That's easy for you to say.

- It's surprisingly hard to be easy.

You're smiling, Jim.

- God forbid, the wind might change.

Hilda, if I had any inkling that you

were going to take me seriously...

You could have made an effort

to enjoy it less.

I had my underpants on.

I was having a grand time.

It's not fair! You've got two husbands,

and I've had none.

Technically, I have one.

- But you've had two.

I've had two shoes

and it's a great deal more practical.

I dare say you've worn down

more soles than that.

John...

Marion, Larita's first husband died

of cancer. Stop being so callous.

Oh, I'm sure Marion

can appreciate the pain

of watching a loved one

slip through her fingers.

She's scandalous!

You should hear what they're saying

about her in the village.

Well, let's stop the wagging tongues,

shall we?

Is it true you've had

as many lovers as they say?

Of course it's not true, Mrs Whittaker.

Hardly any of them actually loved me.

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