I'll Be There Page #2

- Well, you'd know all about the groupies.

- Now don't you be cheeky to your mother.

- Put a sock in it, Granddad.

- It wasn't what you think.

- It was.

It was Paul Kerr, my father.

- He didn't want his kid around cramping his style.

- No.

My father didn't want me.

He doesn't know.

- What?

- What?

Well, what if he'd taken you away

with all his fancy lawyers...

and given you one of those stupid

pop star kids' names, like Flowerbell...

or-or Moonbeam

or Kipper or something?

You would've grown up the child of

someone famous. Would that be a good idea?

Julian Lennon,

Victoria Sellers...

uh, Mickey Humperdinck...

Shut up, Dad!

I swear to you, darling...

I did this because

I love you so much.

And I wanted to protect you.

I'm sorry.

And why are you

telling me this now?

Um...

Because your father's sick.

Horsie goes down.

Horsie goes up.

- Horsie goes down.

500 of those

deerskin toilet seat covers.

You know, the little fuzzy kind.

And if you can ship those out to me

right away, I'd really appreciate it.

Because, you know,

we need 'em really bad in here.

All right? What'd you say?

You only have the leopard?

Hey, Liberace, could you

play something else, please?

I wish they'd settle down a bit.

Let one of them sing.

Sounds like a competition.

Shut up. Doesn't matter

what it sounds like. Look at them.

Sam, Paul Kerr's on line three.

Oh, tell him I'm in Japan.

Take a message.

Paul Kerr? Jesus, that's a rave from

the grave. I wonder what he wants.

- What do they always want?

I can't make a living

out of acts that...

only make one album

every five years.

- He's an artist.

- He's a lousy drunk.

Hi, Paul.

He says he's in Japan.

This is bullshit, Janice. Now you

put him on the phone right now!

- Oh, I'm sorry, Paul. He won't take the call.

- You tell that bastard...

I will kill him if he doesn't

take that call right now!

Hi. I'm fine.

Yeah.

Of course you are.

Don't you think it's time...

you grew up and thought about

someone else other than yourself?

Don't you think it's about time you

realize there's other people involved here?

It's not just...

Listen to me!

You have absolutely

no understanding of the situation.

I understand the situation perfectly.

I understand...

you're a selfish, self-centred,

useless Australian bastard!

Cheers, love.

Knew you'd understand.

- I'll call you in a couple of days, okay?

Bloody Scots.

The women are worse than the men.

So don't you get

fed up running around the country...

- in this smelly old bus with four other men?

When you put it like that,

doesn't sound so great, does it?

- So why do you do it then?

- Music.

I play the music I love

every night of the week...

with friends I've known

for a long, long time.

Now, how many men of my age

do you know that can say that?

I don't know any men your age

except you and the band.

Now you listen to me,

young 'un.

No matter what your mother

may tell you, there is an alternative...

to living in

a nice little house...

and running

a nice little business.

There's nothing wrong

with what your mother does...

but there is nothing wrong

with what I do either.

I know.

Mum just worries.

She worries too much.

You okay?

About the father thing and all that?

Yeah. Mum and I have

arranged an appointment...

to go and see him

at the hospital.

Quite excited about it in a way.

Good. Good.

Olivia tells me you're going

to the hospital to see Paul Kerr.

She wanted to. I didn't feel

I could stand in the way of it.

Why did you tell her

that he didn't know about her?

It's kinder if she thinks he didn't know,

rather than he didn't want to know.

Don't you think

there's been enough Iying?

Don't you think

you'd better be going?

I'll call you

from Wolverhampton.

Whatever.

Why have you got

toilet paper in your ears?

I can't hear you.

I've got toilet paper in my ears.

- You have a visitor.

- Finally.

Please, sit down.

Hello. Who are you?

You don't recognize

your father-in-law?

My God. Dad.

- I didn't recognize you in the leather trousers.

Dr Bridget, Drew has

his finger stuck in the piano again.

Oh. Excuse me.

I'll be right back.

Okay, Gramps, who are you?

Did Gervasi send you?

And did you bring drugs?

Don't you call me Gramps, you degenerate

Scottish bastard. No one sent me.

Okay. Who are you?

I am who I said I am.

I'm your father-in-law.

Well, sort of.

Great. Another loony.

You know, there's a guy out there

playing the piano.

I think you'd really enjoy it.

Now you listen to me,

you bloody sh*t!

My granddaughter is coming

to see you.

Now you be nice to her, or I'll break

your bloody neck. Do you understand me?

Okay, okay, I'll be nice to her.

You know, 16 years ago

I could've killed you.

Really? Why?

- Oh, you know why.

- Sorry about that.

So, how are we doing?

Well, I think we should rally around him,

you know? Cheer him up. Look after him.

No offence, but why?

None of us really know him.

He never comes out of the house.

I asked if he wanted to play guitar on

the music night here in the pub.

He just laughed at me.

Well, what if he dies? Or they

keep him in the loony bin forever...

and the house is sold,

and some bloody yuppie buys it...

and turns it into a crafts shop

or a bed and breakfast?

The whole village will be crawling

with bored stockbrokers...

in green Wellies practising

their comedy Welsh accents.

"Hello, boyo."

Come on, now, Graham.

That couldn't happen.

It's happening all over Wales.

I say we're better off with

our reclusive Scottish musician.

We hardly see him.

And we're all left alone.

Yeah, I don't want any bloody kids

coming here stealing cars and such.

Well, that's exactly what might happen.

Or worse.

What could be worse?

What if the place were bought...

by an American?

It's our duty as a community...

to gather 'round

one of our number...

who has hit a dark patch

on life's long and winding road.

Yeah. What do we do?

I have an idea.

That's quite a story.

So the, um, the old man

wearing the leather trousers...

- he was...

- My father.

My grandpa.

- And Paul doesn't know him?

- No.

Well, that... that would

explain his reaction.

Sorry about that.

We didn't know he was coming.

I gave him a flea in his ear and sent him

back to his geriatric rockabilly band.

He'll keep out of it now.

He's got a gig

in Uttoxeter tonight.

I'm-I'm sorry. How...

How are you involved here?

Oh, I'm a longtime family friend.

I was there the night she fu...

first met him.

Um, the night Olivia was conceived.

I mean, I wasn't actually in the room.

I got off with the bass player

in the support band. Spike.

We still keep in touch.

Just Christmas cards and stuff.

He lives in Lisbon.

Okay, that's better,

but it's still crap.

See, the piano is capable

of producing music...

of atmospheric

and incandescent beauty.

You, my friend, are turning it into

an instrument of unspeakable torture.

- Now, look. Major chords are good for upbeat, cheery tunes.

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