The Lady in the Van Page #3

You certainly are!

Get off the road!

Go ahead! Road hog.

Mr Bennett. I've worked out a way

of getting on the wireless.

What?

I want to do

one of those phone-in programmes.

Something someone like you

could get put on in a jiffy.

You see, I could be called

the "Lady Behind the Curtain",

or "A Woman of Britain, you see.

You could take a nom de plume view of it.

And I see the curtain as being here.

You see, some greeny material would do.

I thought this was a phone-in.

Yeah, well?

Well, it's the radio.

There's no need for a curtain at all-.

Yes, we can iron out these hiccups

when the time comes, you see.

And when I come in,

I can catch up with some civilization.

"Civilization"? What,

you mean the television?

Yeah, you know, wild life.

Famines, you know.

Sheepdog trials, possibly.

I mean, I do watch.

I watch in Currys' window,

but it's not ideal.

Oh.

Yes. Uh, oui.

What guerre?

I was studying incognito Paris.

But what were you studying?

Music.

The pianoforte, possibly.

Have you got an old pan scrub?

I'm thinking of painting the van.

You know, one of those little mop things

they use to wash dishes with would do.

- Well, how about a brush?

- I've got a brush.

It's just for the first coat.

Okay, she's been a nun.

Only now it turns out

she's been a musician besides

and seemingly with fluent French.

She's certainly no painter,

because today, rain notwithstanding,

she moves slowly around her mobile home,

thoughtfully touching up the rust patches

with crushed mimosa,

always a favourite shade.

Morning.

She's using the wrong paint.

Cars have special paint.

Not this one. It's Catholic paint.

- And she smells.

- That's because she's poor.

You'd smell if we were poor.

Oh. Morning, Ursula.

- Oh. Hello, love.

- Hello, darling.

Oh!

Telling me about paint.

I was in infant school.

I won a prize for painting!

- But it's all lumps. You have to mix it.

- I have.

I have mixed it.

Only I got some Madeira cake in it.

Cake or no cake,

all Miss Shepherd's vehicles ended up

looking as if they'd been given a coat

of badly made custard,

or plastered with scrambled eggs.

Divine!

Still, there were few occasions

on which one saw her genuinely happy,

and one of these

was when she was putting paint on.

Jackson Pollock himself

could not have done it better.

Even with a pan scrub.

What're you doing? Get off my van!

- Yellow lines.

- Sorry?

Parking restrictions.

- Oh, what a bore.

- She'll be illegally parked.

She'll have to move.

Look. Look.

It's a removal order.

I know it's a removal order.

Well, it means

you'll have to drive on somewhere else.

But I'm disabled!

I don't always use a walking stick.

That pulls the wool over people's eyes.

But I am a bona fide resident of Camden!

And I had rheumatic fever as a child,

and mumps.

I still think you'll have

to move on. Go somewhere else.

It won't move. There's not enough juice.

- Well, I'll get you some up the road.

- I don't like their petrol!

I don't know. It could be, it could go.

It just might need a bit of coaxing.

What I'm...

What I'm worried about particularly

are the wheels.

They're under divine protection.

If I do get this other vehicle,

I'd like the wheels transferred.

- What other vehicle?

- They may be miraculous, the tyres.

They've only had to be pumped up once

since 1964.

- What other vehicle?

- They only cost me a fiver.

Miss Shepherd,

you said about another vehicle?

Hmm? Yeah, a van.

Another van?

Mmm.

Well, a newer model.

A titled Catholic lady says

she may get me one, as an act of charity.

It's Lady Wiggin.

Only she'd prefer to remain anonymous.

I'll bet she would. So, why don't

you park it outside her house?

- It's out of the question.

- There's plenty of room.

- I have neighbours!

- So have I.

So, should I not buy her another van?

- Please your f***ing self.

- What?

Mr Bennett, I've worked it out.

Mr Bennett.

The ideal solution

would be off-street parking.

You know, a driveway, possibly.

So, what are you going to do?

Play it by ear.

Oh...

Lady?

Are you there?

Is this a bad moment?

Have you got something for me?

Ow!

You bad b*tch!

You dirty, lying b*tch!

Can I help you?

Good evening to you, sir!

I'm finding myself in the vicinity.

I'm taking the opportunity

to pay my compliments to Margaret.

Margaret?

An old friend from way back.

You mean Miss Shepherd?

Shepherd, is it? Very good.

- Well, she'll be asleep.

- Of course.

I'll bid you a good night, sir.

I'll call again when my schedule permits.

Thank you.

Are you in there? Rise and shine!

- Get out, you old witch!

- What a smelly b*tch!

Come on, darling! Come on!

Excuse me. Excuse me, lads.

Who the f*** are you?

Never mind who I am.

I've got your number!

Just clear off!

I live here, and I've got your number!

An old lady lives in there. Just shove off!

Miss Shepherd?

Miss Shepherd?

Miss Shepherd, are you all right?

Yes, yes. I think so.

What was it about?

It wasn't the police, was it?

No. They were louts, but if you choose to

live like this, it's what you must expect.

I didn't choose. I was chosen.

Well, that settles it.

You think?

I can't always be looking out for her.

I'm not her keeper.

I mean, what happens to work?

- I think she should either go or...

- Or what?

Or bring the van into the drive,

where we can forget about her.

Actually, that's why some men marry.

So they don't have to think any more

about their wives.

- That's not bad.

- Yes, except it's Proust.

Oh, yes.

And it'll only be for a few months,

until she decides where she's going.

It'll be easier, but it's not kindness.

No.

"Good nature,

or what is often considered as such,"

"is the most selfish of all virtues."

"It is nine times out of 10

mere indolence of disposition."

That's not you.

Hazlitt. And it's will. Pure will.

She's known what she's wanted all along.

The soul in question did confess

though in guarded terms

in Rome in Holy Year,

though I'm not sure

the priest understood English.

Do I look like a joy rider?

My child,

you have already been given absolution

for this particular sin.

I have given you it myself

on several occasions.

Have faith. Absolution

is not like a bus pass.

It does not run out.

Christ.

There's air freshener

behind the Virgin.

I thought we'd

finally got rid of her.

He's a saint.

Ralph was the same.

Some people are just kind.

- Kind?

- This is London, Ursula. Nobody's kind.

Yeah, that's true.

And now the old cow

has got a foot in the door. He's a fool.

- Who else would do it?

- Yes.

We might. It's just the girls-.

Pauline.

I'm just an unemployed actor, and I don't

know the lady, but can I ask something?

- What makes her Alan's problem?

- Quite.

Darling, she's a human being.

Only just.

Changing the subject.

When are we going to find Alan a girl?

Oh! Josephine's pregnant again.

Oh, no! Actually, I'm just trying to think

who Josephine is.

- The hamster.

- Jesus.

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