Good Page #5

- Yes.

I can put up with any of the

sh*t I get thrown at me daily,

any of the inhumanity, but this... this

is very hard to take, you understand?

Johnnie...

I am...

begging you now.

- You've every right to ask.

- Oh, don't be so f***ing reasonable!

I can't bear to listen to any

more of your rationalisations.

Just get me a ticket to Paris.

- It's not quite that simple.

- You think it's simple for me?

I'll pay whatever it costs.

Keep your money, Maurice.

Allow me...

just a shred...

of dignity, please.

You can put your ring

back on now if you like.

Hey, you! John Halder!

Johnnie? What the hell

are you doing here?

You know Johnnie Halder? He's

our top man at the university.

You see, this is typical of him... such humility.

Just queues up with the rank and file.

But, really, this is taking it too far.

- Stand aside. Please stand aside.

- No, it's all right, Freddie.

Hauptsturmfhrer Halder is travelling

on urgent business with the Reich.

Please give the man a ticket... wherever he'd

like to go - and I will sign for it, first class.

- I don't mind paying.

- We all do it.

You're part of the elite, you don't

have to pay like everyone else. Where to?

Paris, please.

Excuse me?

Is it possible to buy a ticket

to Paris? Leaving tomorrow.

Well, I'd have to see the

appropriate exit papers.

You've seen the travel

warrant. That should suffice.

- As I said, a single to Paris, please.

- You're not planning to return?

- No, no... Yes!

- You had me there.

That's another thing I love about

this fellow, it's his sense of humour.

Y... Yes, a r... return.

A return to Paris, please.

- I can pay cash.

- You joke about deserting the Reich?

Johnnie...

Johnnie, this isn't clever.

No. No, I-I meant Brandenburg.

Return to Brandenburg, please.

What takes you there?

My mother.

Mother?

Frau Troller?

Mother, it's me, John.

How long have you been like this?

Where's Frau Troller?

On... On holiday.

On holiday? For God's sake,

Mother, why didn't you tell us?

- Bloody hell!

- You don't want me any more.

Don't say that.

There you are.

Let me come back and

live with you and Helen.

I'm not with Helen any more.

- When did this happen?

- Six months ago, Mother, you know that.

No! Don't go...

You need to drink something.

- Are you going to put me in a home? - I'm

not going to put you in a home, I promise.

- You need to see a doctor.

- No, I just need my pills.

You'll have to let me go if

you want me to get them for you.

I'll fetch you some water.

Damn.

Ugh!

I'll see about that

light in the kitchen...

Mother!

No.

No, Mother, no!

No! I won't let you...

Maurice, please!

Please, take it.

- I'm... I'm sorry, I...

- You look like sh*t, you know?

You really look terrible.

Mother tried to kill herself.

- Is she OK?

- Luckily, I was there.

Actually, it was my fault. Ishouldn't

have left the pills in her reach.

Yeah. And if you were there,

she didn't really mean it.

Mm.

You don't know what she's been through.

Memory gone, dignity gone, everything... gone.

- She can hardly breathe.

- Hm!

At least she isn't Jewish.

It's... It's all right, it's all right.

You missed a bit.

There you go. This was for you.

Thank you.

Ah!

Where are you gonna get

proper Jewish cheesecake

when you've locked up all the Jews, eh?

Unless you give a special

dispensation to Epstein's.

I can't stand them in there.

Go in every day, give them my money.

Don't get a "hello",

"thank you". Nothing.

F***ing Jews, eh?

No one's talking about

locking anybody up.

We probably met him, you know?

When we were at Ypres,

October of that year.

the line next to us.

He'd have been running

dispatches back and forth.

Hm!

- You may have sent him on an errand.

- Hm!

"Oi, you. Lance Corporal.

"Yes, you, short arse. Get over here. "

- And he'd have saluted you. Imagine that.

- Hm!

So, that's it. You're

not getting me a ticket?

- I can't.

I tried. - Mm-hm?

- You'll be all right. You're a war veteran.

- That doesn't help any more.

- Look...

- It's OK.

I'm a Jew, you're a Nazi.

End of story.

I don't think Mother

appreciated what you did for her.

Well, I wasn't a very good nurse.

Sometimes I used to play mazurkas all afternoon,

just so that I couldn't hear her yelling.

I don't know why I put her

through it. Now that she's... gone.

What...

What good did it do?

What are you saying, John?

I made her suffer until the end.

Why?

Because you're her son.

Because that's too much to ask of a son.

Of a husband, perhaps.

- I'm sorry.

- Oh no, I'm fine.

You don't need to worry about me.

- Busy giving piano lessons.

- Are you?

Mm. Everyone wants to learn classical

music again, for some reason.

- Hm.

- I even learned to cook.

Yes, the children told me.

I don't know

what but they eat it all up.

No, no, they...

They say it's quite good.

They tell me all your news, too.

They're very proud of you.

- I let them down.

- No, you didn't.

- Yes, I did.

- No.

Perhaps they don't always allow themselves to

show it but they are proud of what you're doing.

We all are.

So, we'll start off with a general tour.

You can get an idea of our facilities here.

I read your paper, by the way.

- What did you think of it?

- A competent grasp of the ethical issues.

I'd assumed, of course, that the inspector would

be a medical man, but your field is literature?

The Reich Committee approached me after they

chanced upon a book I'd written on the subject.

A work of fiction, was it?

Anovel, yes.

On the strength of it, I was invited

to draft the paper you've read.

Which led, in due course,

to my current role.

Which is?

Not so much an inspector,

more of a... consultant.

Consultant?

Consultant in humanity,

Isuppose you could say.

Well, you do have to ask yourself,

what sort of life is this?

Don't you?

Lis and I finally had some tests.

We hardly needed to redecorate

at all, did we darling?

- No, the house goes with the job.

- Where did you get this furniture?

It was here. Poor Mandelstam left in

such a hurry he hardly took a thing.

Come and see the bathroom.

It's bigger than our old flat.

Cheers.

Please.

Tests?

Do you want to hear the verdict?

Well, the verdict is...

we can't have kids.

Oh, Freddie, I'm sorry.

They keep on at me at headquarters.

"When are you going to start breeding?

Perfect Nordic pair like you and Lis. "

They're obsessed with f***ing breeding.

At this rate I'll be stuck

a Sturmbannfhrer forever.

That's not why we want kids, of course,

but it doesn't make things any easier.

No.

I had to go to Lis's uncle's doctor in

Wiesbaden in case they tracked my records.

Maybe... that doctor's wrong.

I haven't slept for weeks.

I lie awake all night. I imagine

all sorts of crazy things.

Well... we all imagine things.

With me it's music.

I can just be sitting

there talking to someone...

Excuse me.

Heil Hitler. Urgent communication

for Sturmbannfhrer Dorbisch.

Freddie.

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