It Always Rains on Sunday Page #4

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unless you want to buy something.

I want one of those

mouth organs.

...Drifting to your doom

Drifting to your doom

In the ship

There's left but little room...

Sixpence short.

Mister, can't I owe you sixpence?

I'll bring it in next Sunday.

Get another sixpence, sonny,

then you can have a mouth organ.

Join the happy throng

Saved for evermore

You are drifting

Drifting to your doom

Drifting to your doom

Drifting to your doom...

Well, well.

Look what the wind's blown in.

- Am I glad it isn't the landlord!

- Good morning, Morry.

Morning. And what can I do

for your Ladyship this morning?

You promised to play me some

records, or don't you remember?

Do I remember?

Step inside.

The tree tops are swaying

The soft wind is playing

That beautiful theme

Without words

The wet leaves are...

When IS that competition

you were talking about?

We'd better go

a bit slow on that.

The voice is there.

The personality's there.

- We'll have to improve the diction.

- I see.

Standard's getting higher

all the time.

You've got to be pretty good

to get anywhere these days.

- Right, sonny. Run along.

- Kissing my sister, eh?

I'll tell your mother. She told you

not to come round the market.

- I'll tell Dad you kissed that man.

- Don't tell lies.

- You saw 'em, didn't yer?

- Yeah.

Now, sonny. You wouldn't want

to get your sister into trouble.

- Yes, I would.

- I want that mouth organ.

I've got the sixpence now.

I want a mouth organ, too,

but I haven't got any money.

Will you be a good boy

if I give you a mouth organ free?

Yes.

Don't you want me

to be a good boy, too?

Thanks, mister.

What a morning!

Think he'll say anything?

I'll skin him if he does.

I'll get your records, miss.

- Nasty morning, isn't it?

- Very.

Anything more you require, miss?

Needles?

No, thank you. Good day.

Good morning, miss.

Quite a lot of records

for sixpence ha'penny.

She didn't pay cash.

She's...just opened an account.

I see. She opened it last night,

I suppose?

I don't follow.

There was no extension

to the dance last night.

Such a fuss! Did I say

there was an extension?

Me and the boys were rehearsing

a bunch of new numbers.

Now look, Morry, I know all about

you and your little shiksas.

I've known a long time,

even if I haven't said anything.

But I'm not going to have them

come into my house.

- But, Sadie...

- Morning.

Yes, madam?

There you are.

- Smells good.

- It's only vegetables and gravy.

Daren't cut the joint. But it's hot.

I put your clothes to dry.

This and dry clothes,

I'll be all right.

I could do with some money,

though.

15 bob of the housekeeping left

you can have.

Thanks,

but 15 bob won't take me far.

- Where are you making for?

- Docks.

Try and get a boat

to Cape Town.

You'd better take that.

You can sell it or pawn it.

Nice stone.

- Yes.

- Ought to fetch quite a bit.

- Won't he notice it's gone?

- He doesn't know I've got it.

Huh? Where'd you get it?

Had it given.

- Don't answer it. Let them go.

- I've got to answer it.

- I daren't not answer it.

- You heard! Don't answer it!

I've got to answer it. They'll

tumble the whole thing if I don't.

Mrs Sandigate?

- Yes.

- I'm a police officer.

I've come to see you about

a man known as Tommy Swann.

He escaped from Dartmoor

yesterday.

I understand that you and he

used to be on friendly terms.

Tommy Swann?

Yes. It was while I was working

at The Compasses.

He used to come in quite a lot.

Haven't seen him for years.

Even then, it's possible he might

turn up and ask you to help him.

Think so?

It's my duty to warn you

that aiding an escaped criminal

is punishable

with two years' hard labour.

Catch me getting into trouble

over a crook like Tommy Swann.

It's just a formality,

Mrs Sandigate.

- No offence intended.

- And none taken.

- Police? What did they want?

- Wireless licence.

- I thought Dad had paid it.

- Then you thought wrong.

It doesn't look fresh,

but it's all they had.

Don't give it to me.

Put it in the dish!

Get the dinner on the table.

I've got enough to do.

All right.

That smells good.

Nothing like a game of darts to give

you an appetite. What we got?

- Beef.

- Oh. Half a mo.

Ta.

- You've come into money?

- I've been saving up.

Didn't know you knew how.

You were going out. Something

wrong with love's young dream?

Ted was kept on a job

at the garage.

He's a twerp. Don't know

why you don't give him the air.

Ted's all right. Pity you can't find

a decent chap like him, my girl.

- 'Ere! Where'd you get that?

- A man gave it to me.

- Likely! If you pinched it, I'll...

- A man gave it to me, honest.

- You ask Vi.

- That's right, Dad.

In the shop

when I was buying the records.

The man said he'd throw it in,

seeing as I was a good customer.

Petticoat Lane isn't what it was

if they start giving things away.

There's a big plate missing.

I can't find it anywhere.

- Take a pudding plate, then.

- I have.

- A bit overdone, Rosie.

- If you don't like it, don't eat it.

You know, Lou,

it's good to see you home.

- You're a stranger, almost.

- I must come round more often.

I'd nearly forgotten what good

strudel Bessie makes.

You ought to pack up the shop,

move out of the East End.

Why? You in the removal

business now,

as well as pin tables

and bookmaking?

- And where should we move?

- Stamford Hill, like Uncle Nathan.

Your Uncle Nathan, yeah, yeah.

A great big house like a castle.

A big motorcar like a charabanc.

He hasn't paid for either of them.

What's wrong

with the East End, anyway?

- It smells.

- Certainly, it smells.

Of markets and fish shops

and pubs.

And clubs to keep the boys

and girls out of 'em?

That's not what the clubs are for.

At least, ours isn't.

- I'll tell you something, Lou...

- All right, Bessie.

- Get off your soapbox, eh?

- Bessie and her club!

What do you think?

They will turn the old hall

into a fine new gymnasium.

What about a subscription from

the wealthy member of the family?

- How much do you want?

- Altogether, 50.

Might be able to manage a fiver.

Depends how much I win on

Chuck Evans' fight this afternoon.

If Mr Evans wins.

Loses.

I'm paying him to take a dive.

In that case, the club

will get along without your 5.

Dirty money! Ach, Lou!

Does the colour

of the money matter

if it's to be devoted

to a beautiful, noble cause?

Well, I gotta blow.

Thanks for the dinner, Bessie.

I suppose it's no good asking

if you've had a visit

from an old friend today?

If you're insinuating anything

about Tommy Swan...

He might be in need

of a little light refreshment.

We don't cater for the criminal

classes, Mr Fothergill.

Turned over a new leaf,

have you?

There's such a thing

as the law of libel.

There's such a thing as ham, too,

but not in this sandwich.

Hiya, Joe.

Sausage roll, please.

Great minds think alike,

eh, Sarge?

Been grilling Joe

about Tommy Swann?

And how!

Be a real guy, Joe.

Give us the dope.

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