So Well Remembered Page #7

Oh, George.

Hmm?

Oh.

Good night.

Good night, Julie.

What happened to Olivia?

He never mentions her anymore.

No.

She's married again?

She was,

but her husband died abroad.

Any children?

One.

What?

A boy, I think.

Good evening, George.

Mary!

That is the Channing blower, isn't it?

Aye.

I'd know the pitch of

Channings in me grave.

George, is it a mistake?

There's no warning.

No, no. Evidently not.

Must be a rat stuck in the

works or something of that sort.

Somebody'll catch it

- one of those R.A.F. chaps or all that.

Annie tells me that you and that

quarrelsome guardian of yours

are coming over for supper.

We'd like to.

I don't suppose you have any influence

that could get us a

bit of sugar, have you?

I'll see what I can do.

Good-bye.

Hello?

What is this medieval prejudice

you hold against the medical profession?

Oh. Oh, it was?

I think it's fine, as far as it goes.

Mm-hmm.

The only mistake I made

was giving you an education.

I see. Well, all right.

Thanks very much.

...caused by a lack of...

I can't see how you

wonderful, superior men

can take much pride in the mess

you've got us into up to now.

The blower was a mistake.

The machinery was being

tested today when it went off.

The mills are being bought back.

Who was that?

Masterson from the bank.

Bought back?

Who bought them back?

To be bought back they'd

have to be bought back

by whoever owned them before.

Olivia Channing.

Is she here in Browdley?

She won't be a Channing now, will she?

What was his name, this man she married?

Winslow, I think.

And he left her enough money

to do this sort of thing?

Buying back mills?

Apparently he did.

She probably planned it that way.

She doesn't sound very

nice from what I've heard.

Why did you marry her?

He was in love with her. Why else?

Oh, I don't mean that.

That's too general.

I mean really why.

He married her because she was the

most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Because he felt sorry for her.

Because she promised something

twice as exciting and worldly

as anything he had ever

known here in Browdley.

And because he didn't have any choice

once she set out to get him.

Aye, I suppose that's about it.

How do you feel about seeing her again?

I don't know.

You won't go to see her?

No, I suppose not.

Well, will she come here to see you?

Mr. George,

the sector warden wants to know

if you'll take over number 10 post

on shawgate tonight.

All right, Annie.

Tell him I'll be along.

You stay here and get your tea, Dick.

I'll walk down with you.

I'm due back at the hospital anyway.

Good night, Dick.

Good night, George.

I'll come home as soon as I can get off.

Julie.

Oh, he doesn't mind.

Good night.

I'm sorry, George.

I didn't mean to be

rude or pry about Olivia.

Oh, you weren't.

I was just interested.

It doesn't matter.

In fact, I think I like

being able to talk about it.

Have you thought about her much?

Aye, dear. I suppose I have,

whether I've always realized it or not.

But, uh... less lately.

Easy, now, lad!

You've had enough drink here.

He's showing a light there.

I know you will, but we

don't want any trouble here.

Now, be a good lad,

Channing, and off you go.

The name's Winslow to you, sprog.

Half Channing, and that half better

than any man you've got.

One bomb, and-

all right, lad. All right.

Let's get you home.

That's enough. Get that light out.

Easy, Boswell.

So, here we have Boswell.

And what does milord mayor want?

I want that light out.

Pull the black out.

He wants the light off.

The great caesar with a tin hat

want the light off.

Come on-

well, I want him out of my way.

George!

You all right, George?

Aye.

This is a mess, all right.

What'll we do with him?

He's got a very nasty cut.

Help me get him into the house.

You know who he is?

Yeah, I think I do.

Come on, give me a hand.

Cheer up, hero. You'll live. Here.

Hold this.

Are you sure you're all right?

I've got a very hard head.

Why did you bring me here?

You were bleeding all

over the main street.

We didn't want it mucked up.

Your name is Winslow, isn't it?

Surname is Winslow.

Christian name, Charles.

Wouldn't be a bottle in the house?

If there were, I'd slap

you across the ears with it.

George Boswell.

My mother lived here, did she?

Aye.

That's very funny.

My mother lived here.

What's funny about it?

I don't really know.

But all right.

You've patched me up

and I feel terrible.

What do I do now?

You can do anything you like.

But you'd do better to rest here awhile.

Which way out, Mr. Mayor?

Julie, catch him up, will you,

and see he gets home all right?

What?

These streets are bad enough

knowing them all your life.

Run along.

Oh, hello. Want a job?

Uh...

I'd like to talk to you, sir.

Aye. Sit down.

I'd rather not.

I'm just awfully sorry about last night.

I wanted you to know that.

How do you feel?

Terrible.

Did Julie see you home all right?

Why, yes, she did.

I don't quite know what

I thought I was doing.

The thing had built up in me somehow,

and it had to go off.

I heard your name and

I suddenly hated you.

I don't know what I

expected you to be like.

But at any rate, something

quite different, I suppose.

I'm sorry.

Oh, that's all right.

The Winslows have never

been very good at drinking.

Or perhaps I should say too good at it.

You know my father drank

himself under the ground.

No, I didn't know that.

Well, anyway, I'm in the tradition.

My best friend- he's Julie's

guardian, by the way, a doctor-

he went after the bottle

pretty hard for a time.

It turned out he was

fighting back that way

at a situation he didn't

quite know what to do about.

Well, the situation cleared up.

And I don't have to

fetch him home drunk now

more than twice a week.

Well...

are you here for long?

I'm just starting 14 days' leave.

Oh, well, come back then.

Come for tea tomorrow.

I'll see if I can't get Julie along.

All right, sir. Tea time tomorrow.

Spivey, set this up, will you?

Aye.

Once Olivia was

reinstalled at Stoneclough,

she was apparently

content to stay there,

in the old house,

brooding above the town,

remote from its wartime problems.

Few people saw her.

She didn't come to see George,

and he made no attempt to see her.

But somehow, the town felt her presence.

And when the ancient, creaking

machinery began to turn again,

something of the old Channing

tradition returned to Browdley.

The old thing's a blinking booby trap.

We all know that.

A sausage machine, more like.

There's one reason

Channing's was opened,

and we know that, too.

To toast a couple of

buns while the fire's hot.

Money will be made here.

None will be spent if it can be helped.

It's one for the ministry, that's all.

Yes, yes, conditions are bad here.

We grant that.

But we need the cotton stuff.

It's not easy.

Have you been to the management?

Yeah, and a fat lot that got us.

What did it get you?

A cheery old chap and come

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