The Sense of an Ending Page #2

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Well, where on earth is it?

Uh, the item is currently

with Mrs. Ford's executor.

Mrs. Ford's daughter.

Veronica?

Mmm.

You've asked for it, I assume?

That's correct.

Has she given any reason

for withholding it?

I'm afraid I don't know.

Forgive me,

but what do you know?

What is it?

Have you actually seen it?

No, I haven't. Um...

I can look it up for you, if you wish.

Please do.

So, Mrs. Ford's will

describes the second item

as a diary.

A diary?

Belonging to Mrs. Ford?

I'm afraid that's not clear.

Can you let me have

Veronica's address, please?

I'm sorry, we can't give out

clients' addresses

without their permission.

Veronica and I know one another.

Well, did know one another,

albeit rather a long time ago.

I'm afraid I would need

her authority to do that.

Well, will you kindly request

that authority, please?

Very well.

Thank you.

Thank you.

It was a pleasure

meeting you, Mr. Webster.

Goodbye.

And you should know

that my ex-wife is a QC.

Yeah, this all seems fine.

So, she has it. The diary.

That much at least we do know.

Sorry, who has it?

You know, those things

are really bad for you.

They just build up excess mucus.

I'm sorry, Dr. Webster,

didn't think we were here to

discuss my breadstick intake.

All right, Margaret.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

I'll feel better

once we've eaten.

Once we've ordered. Ah.

Thank god.

Waiter:
Sir, madam?

I'd like the carbonara, please.

And the penne con salsa

di Pomodoro e Basilico.

Thank you.

What?

So tell me. Tell me.

Not enjoying the party?

It's not really my cup of tea.

I'm a manic depressive, you see.

Not another one.

Clifton suspension bridge.

My mind's made up.

Done.

Mmm.

Well...

It was nice to meet you.

Young Tony:
Uh... Tony.

Tony.

I wonder how far it is?

It's 245 feet.

So not very far, then.

Why is your watch

on the inside of your wrist?

Is it? I don't know.

So what's your subject, then?

Le Francais.

Oh.

Cheers.

Cheers.

Young Tony:
You still haven't

told me your name.

I tend to find it inadvisable

to give out my name

to strange men

I've only just met.

Margaret:
Sounds like

a fruitcake, this Sarah.

Veronica.

Her name's Veronica.

What? I thought you said

the diary belonged to Sarah?

Apparently, yes.

The diary, yes,

was left to me by Sarah Ford.

Who is?

Veronica's mother.

So, you...

You slept with Veronica

or you slept with Sarah?

Strictly speaking,

neither. Sadly.

Veronica and I were together.

Boyfriend and girlfriend.

Exactly, yes. Kind of...

Kind of an item, yes.

But that...

And that's how you know Sarah.

Yes.

Right. So we're

getting somewhere.

Looks like he's

planning to move in.

You look nervous.

Tony, this is my father.

Tony.

David.

We've heard all about you, Tony.

Come on. Let's get

you two lovebirds home.

Ta-da!

Oh, um, you can pee

into the basin at night,

if you wish.

Not bad, eh?

Jack.

I'm the big brother.

Tony.

Oh, we've heard

all about you, Tony.

Oh?

How do you like your lamb, Tony?

Sorry?

We're having lamb

this evening.

Oh, right. I see.

Excellent.

I'm, uh...

I'm partial to a bit

of rare meat myself.

I'll let you get settled.

Here, Tony,

have some roast potatoes.

Thank you.

Thank you, Mrs. Ford.

It all looks lovely.

Hear, hear.

Motion seconded.

Jack:
And me, please, mother.

Thank you.

How many?

One more, please.

Sarah:
Pass it down.

Do start.

Uh, a friend of mine's

at Cambridge, as it happens.

Adrian Finn?

Should I know him?

Uh, he's studying philosophy.

My deepest sympathies.

Sarah:
And what about you,

Tony? You haven't told us

what your subject is.

English literature.

And what do you hope to do

with an undergraduate degree

in English literature?

Well, um, I hope to write.

Write?

Yes.

Poems. Poetry.

A poet?

And who's your favorite poet?

Mum.

Dylan Thomas.

David:
Ah, yes.

The gloomy Welshman.

Jack:
And the winds did bloom

and the brides

in the wooed field

did sew the coming summer frost

David:
Ah, bravo, Jack.

See what I have to

put up with, Tony.

I'm partial to

a little Larkin myself.

Oh, yes.

He's wonderful, also.

I work all day,

and get half drunk at night.

Waking at four

to soundless dark,

I stare.

In time the curtain-edges

will go bright.

Jack:
Hear, hear.

So...

Good night, then.

I didn't say anything

embarrassing at dinner, did I?

Why are you whispering?

I don't know.

Sorry.

I hope you sleep the sleep

of the wicked.

It's important you

understand the scale

of sexual frustration

of my younger self.

For god's sake.

You poor thing.

Are you sure there isn't

some un-doused fire

in your breast, Mr. Webster?

Quite sure.

So if the, let's presume,

still unmarried fruitcake

walked into this restaurant now

and sat in that table,

how would the long-divorced

Mr. Anthony Webster react?

I don't think I'd be

especially pleased to see her.

So you wouldn't start

rolling up your sleeves

and turning over your watch?

God. I wish

I'd never told you that.

Can we have another...

More coffee?

Come on, let's hear

the rest of it.

Sarah:
Morning.

You looking for something?

No, I was just looking.

The others have gone for a walk.

Veronica said

you'd prefer a lie-in,

so we opted not to disturb you.

You hungry?

Yes.

Have a seat.

You won't let Veronica

get away with too much,

will you?

Sorry?

Don't let her get away

with too much.

Sorry, I'm not quite sure

I follow your meaning.

Oh! Damn it!

Whoops.

Sorry.

I'm normally very good at eggs.

Tony.

Ah. Thank you.

Well, Jack.

He'll do, I suppose.

Thanks for staying

the weekend, Tony.

Thank you, Mrs. Ford.

I like your mum.

Sounds like

you've got a rival, Vron.

Come to think of it, sounds

like you're not the only one.

Excuse me, I'm still speaking.

You don't say.

Something is clearly going on.

Someone you knew long ago

has left you something or other.

Exactly. Which has been

unduly withheld from me

and to which

I am legally entitled.

Well, you could fight it,

or you can just let it go.

Cash the check, take me

on a budget holiday.

250 each, get us

to the channel islands.

Listen, the point I'm...

Something is certainly going on,

so just call me when you

really want to talk about it.

Oh, and the foot's much better,

thanks for asking.

How is it, the foot?

Eleanor:
So, I passed

on your letters,

all 13 of them, to miss Ford.

And?

While miss Ford

is still not ready

to part with the diary,

I can tell you that

the diary, it seems,

belonged to

a Mr. Adrian Finn.

I see.

Now I've raised your concern

in terms of if, or when...

you might be able to

receive Mr. Finn's diary.

Let me get this straight.

She should have handed

the diary over to you.

She hasn't.

You've asked for it,

but she's refusing

to give it up.

Yes, that's certainly

how things stand at present.

In my experience,

Mr. Webster,

people often like to

take some time out

following a bereavement.

Don't you think?

That's as may be.

But I want to be quite sure

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