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Secrets & Lies Page #3
- R
- Year:
- 1996
- 136 min
- 3,426 Views
- I'll leave it with you
and I'll be back in a few minutes.
- Yeah.
- Can I get you anything?
- No. Uh, thank you.
How you doing?
All right?
Thank you.
"Cynthia Rose Purley".
That's her.
Cynthia Rose.
It's a nice name,
isn't it?
- That's her signature.
- Mm-hmm.
Does it feel strange?
"Elizabeth".
That's my middle name.
They must've kept it.
Well, that would be
your birth name, you see?
"Elizabeth Purley".
Listen, is there any way
I could get a copy of these?
No. Those are the originals
and they're yours to keep.
That's your right
under the 1975 Act.
I've made copies upstairs.
Can I pop those in here for you?
So...
what we need to do now is...
you go away and have a think.
And when the time's right,
and not before...
you know, it's very much
in your own time...
come back to me,
if that's what you want...
and we'll
get the ball rolling.
Now, it can be
a very long-winded process.
And there's no two ways
about it...
it's a very traumatic journey
we're embarking on.
And there may be other people's
feelings to consider too.
So I'll wait
to hear from you, okay?
Now, y-you could decide to trace your
birth mother by yourself if you want to...
but I... I wouldn't advise it.
We're a professional service and
we know how to handle these things.
So I think you should
take advantage of us.
- Hello.
- Oh, you're back. Hello.
- I'm sorry, Hortense. I can't stop. I'm late now.
- Look. It says she's white.
- Sorry?
"Mother:
White".Well, it's perfectly feasible
that your mother was white, isn't it?
Look, I'm sorry, Hortense. Really,
I've got to go. I'm on an emergency case.
Yes, but could this
be a mistake?
I very much doubt it.
Look. Give me a ring in the morning
and we'll have a talk then.
Okay. I'm sorry.
Look at that.
- Legs like a teenager.
- Do you have to?
- You'd like a pair like that.
- What for?
I'm known for my legs.
If you've got it, flaunt it.
- You going out?
- Of course I ain't.
- Who's that?
- Well, I don't know.
If it's what's-her-name,
you could ask her to come in.
I don't even know
who it is yet.
What you doing here?
Just come to see ya.
Well, you can't come in.
My mum's here.
- Who is it?
- I'm going out.
Hello.
- You all right, sweetheart?
- Would you get inside?
Nothing's changed much.
- No.
- Ain't your mum been around, looking after you?
She came around Sunday,
after mass.
Didn't take long
to mess it up again.
She laying off of me
a bit now though.
- Well, I should think so too, at your age.
- Yeah.
She should have a word
with my mum.
I bet she misses you though.
F***in'... better off
without it altogether, I'll tell ya.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
You and me, mate.
Look. I'm sorry about...
You know.
So you should be.
Don't get all serious
on me, Paul.
- No, no. I ain't.
- Yes, you are, you fool.
I just missed you.
How much?
- A lot.
- Just a lot?
No. Y-Yeah.
Well, I might have
missed you a bit.
Ya know, I've been
going out of me head.
So was I.
Just so's you know, I ain't staying
the night, not every time I come round.
And I want you to stop before.
I was just speaking my mind, all right?
- Yeah.
- Now give us a snog.
- Hello. Good afternoon.
What can I do for you today?
- Hello.
Right. That's fine.
Is that, uh, to post or collect?
- Collect, please.
- Collect. Thanks very much.
That's 6, please, madam.
Okay.
- I saw her, you know.
- Did ya?
Yeah.
She's just, like,
"You got a boyfriend yet, Dionne?"
Nearly everyone
who went to the funeral...
reckoned they'd seen her and she'd
given them some kind of sign.
"Me see your mother
And she hold onto me arm
and look in me eye as if she did know."
I mean, if she knew,
I wish she'd told us.
You're gettin' better though.
It's a nice day.
Yeah.
I don't know...
why I can't contain it all.
It's too soon.
There's nothing rational
about grief.
Maybe you cry for yourself.
Been out much?
Nah. I can't.
Some days
I'm completely vulnerable.
I can feel everything.
Other days I'm numb.
- If you wanna come out with me...
- No.
- I've got stuff to sort out.
- What?
Life.
- Look. If there's anything I can do...
- No. Thanks.
I'll be all right.
- Have you heard from Bernard?
- Nah.
Yes! He sent a sympathy card.
- Mm?
- Which I thought was a very nice thing to do.
Oh, no. I don't think
I can deal with no confession.
- Cleanse my soul.
- Mm-mmm!
- I did the do.
- Do it.
- Did the deed with a complete stranger.
- Did it.
- No! Who?
- I don't know who.
- Well, what did he look like?
- Don't know.
- He was in advertising.
- Oh, Lord.
- Did you use a condom?
- Yes.
- Did you use two?
- Yes.
- One on top of the other?
- One after the other.
Oh, God!
- Do you despair of me?
- No.
- Yes, you do.
- I don't.
- Did you have a good time?
- Yeah.
- That's all that matters then, isn't it?
- Yeah.
I liked my mum as a person,
but I didn't know her.
I wish I'd known her.
- She loved you.
- Yeah, I know, but that's not in debate, is it?
My mum,
she resents me.
She kept you.
She fed you.
She clothed you.
She didn't give you away.
- She could have.
- I wish she had.
No, you don't.
The thing is,
they're so secretive.
It's that back-home thing.
You know.
"Come out.
Big people are talking."
That sort of vibe.
So you don't pursue things,
because you're brought up not to.
Just let 'em
get on with it.
What I seem to do
I wish I could have
asked her.
Like what?
I don't know.
There's stuff
I wish I knew.
- There's stuff I wish I didn't know.
- No.
If you knew you had a limited amount
of time, you'd sort it out.
You'd ask
your mum questions...
regardless of whether
she got vexed.
Like, I don't know, what happened between
her and your dad, for example.
No. She didn't make
no effort for me...
so why should
I be interested in her?
And where's my dad anyway?
I don't wanna hear
her and Norbert havin' it off.
I don't want her to know
who I'm havin' it off with...
and I don't want her
to see me drunk.
Don't want her to know
nothing about me.
Maybe that's because you're frightened
that when you look at her...
you can see yourself
in 20 years time.
- Please.
- We choose our parents.
How do you mean?
We choose the parents in this life
that can teach us something...
so that when we go into
the next life, we get it right.
Zzzzoop!
Well, sometimes
it don't work, does it?
I'm gonna pop out
for a couple of hours.
- What time will you be back?
- 4:
30.- Okay. Have fun.
- Thanks.
Sorry to interrupt. Do you think
- Right.
- I'm a bit low.
- I'll give 'em a ring.
- Thanks.
"Seventeen-I."
- Hello.
- Bloody hell.
- What you doing here?
- Thought I'd come and see ya.
Where's Monica?
She's at home, I think.
Gonna let me in then?
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