Ryan's Daughter Page #3

Six twelves are...

Seventy-two.

Now, your work is on the board.

You've all got your pencils.

There's no need for talking,

Kathleen. Now get on with it.

Get on.

Rose?

Rose.

- Where are you going, Rosy?

- Nowhere.

You're in the devil of a hurry there.

Now, stop.

Now, what exactly is the

trouble between you and Charles?

No. No trouble.

Are you asking me to

believe you're happy?

- I'm not asking you anything.

- Are you happy?

No.

Why not?

I don't know.

- Come on, Rosy, now give me a try.

- I don't.

All right.

Because I am stupid and conceited...

and self-centered and ungrateful

like you've always told me.

For I have everything

I wanted, have I not?

You have!

- What more are you wanting now?

- I don't know that, either.

- That's a lie.

- It's not.

How can I know?

I don't even know what more there is.

- You've got a good man now, haven't you?

- The best.

Well?

And you've got enough

money. Not much, but enough.

Aye.

And you've got your health.

- You're not sick?

- No.

There is nothing more,

you graceless girl.

- But, there is.

- There is not.

I know there is.

- There must be, Father Hugh.

- Why?

Glory be to God, why must there

be? Because Rosy Ryan wants it?

Aye.

Have you got any warm old clothes,

Rosy? Poor Patsy Wheelan's in a bad way.

I'll find some, Father.

Thanks.

Rosy, don't nurse your wishes.

You can't help having them,

but don't nurse them...

or sure to God, you'll get

what you're wishing for.

Major Doryan, sir.

Sorry, sir, I had to change a wheel.

Sir.

Get in.

In!

Come on, kids, out of it.

You were in Second Battle of

the Marne, weren't you, sir?

- Yes.

- So was I, sir.

- Yes?

- It was too much for me, sir.

I reckon that's why they sent me here.

Camp coming up, sir.

Slope...

arms.

Capt. Smith, sir.

Hey.

That's all we're short of,

that is. A crippled bloody hero.

Well, now, sir.

This is our communication

with the outside world.

Field telephone to the police

station down the village.

Now, then. Records.

Hello? Constable O'Connor here.

- Were you calling?

- No, no, Constable, just testing.

Well, now, sir, where was I?

Oh, aye. Records. Records. Transport.

They're sending a...

Well, I guess you'd

better see your room.

Well, now, duty.

Our duties are light.

Oh, good lad, Jimmy.

Jimmy will look after you

right nicely, Major Doryan.

Tired?

Yes.

- That leg gives you gyp, don't it?

- Yes.

Sent you here for a rest, did they?

Yes, I think they did.

Well, you'll get that, if naught else.

There's nothing to do here but walk.

Oh, I'm sorry. I expect walking's out.

No, I'm supposed to

walk. Five miles a day.

Oh. Well, then. They've

sent you to the right place.

There's some nice walks here.

Our duties are light

enough, God knows.

Our duties. It's more

like police work, isn't it?

The publican's a

source of information.

- An informer?

- Aye. Publican, name of Ryan.

Well, he's nothing to inform, has he?

But the police slip him a

fiver now and then, you know.

Oh, he's all right.

Big mouth, open hand,

empty pocket, you know?

Typical publican. But

he's all right, really.

- Jimmy.

- Sir?

- Are my bags on the lorry?

- Yes, sir.

I'll be straight off, if

it's all the same, sir.

- I've given myself leave.

- Yes?

Embarkation leave.

France.

Second battalion,

Southeast Lancashires.

They're in the front line.

Will you tell me

something, man to man?

What's it like, really?

Front line?

Aye. Well...

I'll find out soon enough.

I'm a coward, you see.

No, I always have been.

From being a lad.

I can't master it.

Well, perhaps I've

never tried, really.

But, I'd give my left arm to

have a bit of what you've got.

I hate it.

Just the bloody thought

of it gives me the shakes.

That's my nightmare, as a

matter of fact, the shakes.

I don't mind dying.

Not if it's quick. Life's

not that much, is it?

I wouldn't mind a gammy

leg like you've got.

Though I don't suppose it's funny.

But the shakes?

Shellshock.

Just shaking and shambling

like a epileptic baby.

Nay, I'd rather be dead.

I can see what's coming.

I'm going to disgrace myself.

You don't know what you'll do.

No one does. You don't

know what you're doing.

Really?

I read what you did in the newspapers.

That were no flash in the pan.

You'd do the same again, I dare say.

You'd be wrong.

Well, you've done your bit.

It's someone else's turn now, eh?

Oh, dear. You look

about finished, sir.

Here.

Good stuff, this. Cheap, too.

That's the generator.

The bloody thing stays on all

night, but you'll get used to that.

This your house?

- Yes.

- Well, I never.

- Wife?

- Yes.

- May I?

- Please.

Oh.

Bonny woman.

Thank you.

- She'll be coming out, then?

- No, I don't think so.

There's no local crumpet.

It's married or virgin here, you know.

And that priest down there has

got eyes in the back of his head.

It gets bloody lonely here.

Why not have her out?

Sorry.

Fools rush in, eh?

You're probably better

on your own a bit.

Excuse me.

I'll pop back to say goodbye.

It's him.

Peg leg.

Sir?

Excuse me, I didn't

realize you were serving.

Well, I'm just minding.

What did you want?

Whiskey.

Water?

Did you want water?

Please.

Thank you.

I must open the door.

Sit, please.

- Is this where you live?

- What?

Is this where you live?

- I live at the schoolhouse.

- Schoolhouse?

- I'm married to the teacher.

- Oh.

They're back.

- I don't know your name.

- Shaughnessy, Rose Shaughnessy.

Come away in, then.

One round on the house!

That's my dad.

Your father is the publican?

Yes, why not?

Now, I can't just say

you're very welcome, sir.

Not in your official function.

But in yourself, you're welcome.

A brave man is a brave

man in any uniform.

English khaki, Irish

green, aye, or German gray.

Aye, you've a large mind, sir.

Put it there.

You've met my daughter, then?

Yes.

All right, everyone, the

Major isn't a peep show.

Princess.

Guess what your old dad's got

for you this time from the fair?

Guess.

- I don't know, Father.

- Come and look.

- Now, then.

- Father, you can't afford it.

Oh, it's nothing.

Just a little blood mare I

picked up at the fair, is all.

- She's a Connemara.

- All right.

You look as if you'd be a judge, sir.

Maybe you'll favor us with your opinion.

Now.

It's a fine horse, Mr. Ryan.

- Are you away, then?

- Yes.

Good day, Mr. Ryan, Mrs. Shaughnessy.

Snob!

Of course he's a snob. Isn't that

what the English is famous for?

Aye.

On the house.

Hello.

Did you see our lord and master, then?

- I did. Fine looking young man.

- Blather.

- Will you meet me tomorrow?

- How?

Where?

- The tower.

- What tower?

Ask.

When?

-3:
00?

- Yes.

Whatever is this, darling?

It must be the lilies.

You're restless, Rosy.

Yes, I am a bit.

I think maybe I'll take

Princess out tomorrow.

Aye, yes, do that.

It'll please your father.

How long will you be here?

Till I ask to be sent back.

To the front?

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