Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day Page #7

It's just a drill, ladies and

gentlemen, it's just a drill.

This is the safest

place in London.

Come on, let's have

some drinks on the house.

And some music, please!

Michael?

Michael?

Michael, please wait!

Delysia, you've made your

decision. I hope you'll be happy.

Michael. Please. You have...

Where do you think you're sneaking

off to? The night is young.

You have the rest

of a set to sing.

No, Nick,

I don't think so.

Nobody walks

off my stage.

She said no.

What, and she does

what you say?

Never once, as a matter of

fact, but that's not the point.

The point is she doesn't

want to sing. End of story.

Let's go, Delysia.

No.

I'm warning you,

Calderelli.

You, warning me?

After you, Delysia.

Sock him in the jaw!

What?

I'm a pianist, damn it.

It could ruin me.

Why, you pathetic...

Darling.

This is your fault.

Is the offer still open?

Get up!

Well? Is it a yes

or is it a no?

What?

Will you doggone marry me

or will you doggone not?

Yes. God help me. Yes.

I don't think

I can bear it again.

Did you lose many?

Just one. You?

Almost every

school friend I had.

One tries to forget.

If only one could.

You know, I distracted

myself with ridiculous things,

youth, parties,

lingerie.

I mean, I trained in

socks, for goodness sake.

Socks?

There's a great deal of engineering in

a gentleman's sock, I'll have you know.

Stitching of the heel...

By comparison, designing a

brassiere is a piece of cake.

Not that there

aren't compensations.

None of them

over 20, I imagine.

And all very easy

on the eye.

But you know what?

I'm done with it.

I'm going back

to gentlemen's hosiery.

You know who you are

with an honest pair of socks.

You certainly do.

Told you about Gerry,

has she?

Didn't take you long

to move on, hmm?

Joe?

Hello, Edythe.

Did she also tell you that she hangs

around the soup kitchen at the station?

A tramp masquerading as some

sort of social secretary, my God.

Goodbye,

Mr. Blomfield.

No, actually,

she didn't.

Neither about that,

nor about you and Gerry.

But I'm grateful for

the truth, for a change.

Hello?

Delysia?

Miss Lafosse?

Come on, come on,

the taxi's waiting.

Michael,

don't rush me!

Guinevere! Are you all

right? We've been so worried.

Perfectly well,

thank you.

We've been scouring London for you.

Miss Lafosse...

You have not been at the roulette

wheel all night, have you?

Please, Delysia,

I'm trying to apologize.

I expect you've heard that I am

not a social secretary at all.

I'm afraid I found

myself pretending.

Miss Pettigrew, if that's you

pretending, then you're jolly good at it.

Guinevere,

Sarah Grubb is not going to

judge anybody for pretending.

Come on, Grubb! This is

us, I'm afraid, Miss Pettigrew.

Boat won't wait.

Are you really going?

- Mmm-hmm!

To New York?

- Yep.

How wonderful.

But, Guinevere,

what will you do?

Don't you worry

about me, petal.

Why, Miss Holt is holding a job

for me this very morning, I expect.

I will never forget the day

we spent together.

Not ever.

Nor I.

Oh, goodbye, Guinevere.

I love you.

Off with you. Away.

Oh, come and visit!

New York's bopping!

Forgive the intrusion.

I'm glad to see

you're safe.

Oh, yes. Quite safe.

Am I right in thinking you're no

longer employed, Miss Pettigrew?

Quite correct.

So you're free?

- Quite free.

Might you be looking

for a social secretary?

No. Absolutely not.

Oh.

I'm looking for you.

Me?

I've been looking for you

all night, and, I believe

all of my life.

If you'll have me.

A nod of the head

will do me fine.

And I am, at a stroke,

the happiest man in London.

What a night.

- What a morning.

Have you eaten,

my dear Guinevere?

Oh, Joe,

I have not eaten for

a very, very long time.

Some music, please!

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes