The Sense of an Ending Page #4

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Jesus Christ.

Young Alex:

He knew how to do it.

Diagonally.

If you, uh, cut straight across,

you lose consciousness

and the wound heals up.

You botched it.

Well, perhaps

you drown yourself.

No, still second place.

Adrian would have wanted first.

That's sort of Greek, isn't it?

Both:
No, it's, um, hemlock.

More the exemplary

Roman, I'd say.

Opening the vein.

It's effing impressive.

Yeah.

Or a miserable waste.

Margaret:
So what do you think

you'll find in the diary?

I've no idea.

It's just mine.

I think it's quite touching

that you're so stubborn.

Probably a way of not losing

the plot at your age.

I don't think I'd have reacted

any differently

when we were younger.

Do you remember

that au pair we had?

The Swedish one?

Mmm.

I found her diary once.

And I...

I was tidying up, and I read it.

And do you know what I found?

She'd written, "I'm working

for a real cow."

"Husband's all right,

"just keeps

looking at my arse."

You should have said.

We'd have got rid of her.

That's not the point

of my story.

It's getting late.

Is it?

Surely you're not insisting

your inebriated ex

risks his life on the open road?

Collateral damage.

Think about

my fellow drivers, then.

You're not staying.

Good night, then. Wait, wait, wait.

I've got a question.

Got a question.

Why did you leave me?

Be honest.

Tony...

No, be honest. No, tell me.

Did you leave because of me?

Are you angry about Veronica?

I'm not anything about Veronica.

Wasn't that bad, was it?

Good night, Tony.

Good night.

Tony Webster.

How the devil are you?

Colin Simpson.

Wonderful to see you.

Alex...

Good to see you.

Great to see you.

You go and sit in there.

You sit there.

Are you sure?

Yeah, yeah. Go on, go on.

Colin:
Do you want a tea?

You haven't changed.

I will have a tea.

Colin:
Excuse me, love,

could we have another tea?

Blimey.

What a nut job. Whatever

did you see in her?

You and Adrian both.

Well, you know,

she was very mysterious.

You know, the great irony,

of course,

was that it was you

that introduced them.

Introduced who?

Adrian and Veronica.

No, Adrian met Veronica

through her brother Jack.

Oh, wishful thinking,

my old friend.

No. Yeah.

Adrian and Jack

were at Cambridge together.

But that's not how they met.

No, it was your fault

they got together.

Hole-in-one.

No, no, no.

You came up to town from Bristol

with your ladylove

and met all of us.

Yeah, chomping at the bit

to introduce

the love of your life.

Oh, I could have sworn

they met through Jack.

Afraid not.

I'm surprised you haven't had a good

rummage through the Webster albums.

If memory serves, you were

always snapping away.

Hmm.

Well, they must have been

deemed surplus to requirements.

Colin:
Mmm, well,

that's a pity, old bean.

Alex:
So have you...

Have you tried

contacting her directly?

How?

She's not there. Try Jack.

Okay.

Mmm-hmm.

Oh...

Oh, right.

Loads of them.

What about...

What was that...

This one?

Oh, it's him.

Yeah.

Yeah?

Yeah, yeah.

Wow.

God, where on earth is he?

Cricket.

Tennis, no?

Tennis.

Oh, look.

All:
Mmm.

Who's that?

I don't know.

He looks as self-satisfied

as he ever did.

All:
Oh...

Oh!

Do you want to

send him a message?

Isn't that a bit much?

No, it'd be rude not to.

Do people really

communicate this way?

Yours truly

communicates this way.

Really?

Yeah.

I got in touch with a woman

I'd been at university with.

Hadn't seen her for the

best part of 40 years.

We met up, got on

like a house on fire.

You see, it's a boon

for us widowers.

Mmm.

Hmm.

There you go. Sent.

Oh, done.

What?

You're in now.

Welcome to the

21st century, Mr. Webster.

Oh, blimey.

Ta-ra!

Tell us how it all turns out.

Certainly will.

Don't let it get to you,

old bean.

Insightful as always.

Alex:
Henry viii.

Now which one of you

young bright things can offer

characterization of the age?

Simpson?

Colin:
I'd say

there was unrest, sir.

I'd even say

there was great unrest, sir.

Not enjoying the party?

Oh, sh*t.

Tony:

Hello, you have reached the

telephone of Anthony Webster.

Bollocks!

I'm unable

to take your call now.

Please leave me a message

after the beep,

and I will return your call

at my earliest convenience.

Thank you.

Veronica:
Hello.

This is Veronica Ford.

I am in receipt

of all your correspondence,

and I also understand

from my brother

that you wish to meet

to discuss my mother's estate.

I will be in town this morning.

I will see you at the

wobbly bridge at 9:00 A.M.

Sh*t.

Could I get a glass

of red wine, please?

Are you...

Are you sure?

Really, Anthony.

You said it didn't feel right

when we were going out.

Well, it didn't. Then.

But it does now?

I don't know.

You're quite cowardly,

aren't you?

Veronica?

Hello, Anthony.

You look well.

You're bald.

Well, at least it proves

I'm not an alcoholic.

Do people think

you're an alcoholic?

No. No, they don't.

I read somewhere that if

you're a very heavy drinker,

there's something in the booze

that stops your hair

from falling out.

Shall we find

somewhere to sit down?

Where?

Anywhere? I'm easy,

as you may recall.

Ready to order?

Um...

I'll have a fresh

mint tea, please.

Um, what sort of coffee

do you serve?

We serve our own blend.

Roasted in our roastery

in Herne hill.

Oh, blimey.

We don't mess around.

In that case, I'll have

a macchiato, please.

Single or double?

Single, thank you.

Thank you.

Their own blend.

Impressive stuff.

Woman:
Oh!

I was sorry to hear about

your mother, Veronica.

Yes.

As, uh...

As you're no doubt aware,

it appears that your mother

left something to me

in her will.

And when I spoke

with your mother's solicitor...

I was told that the item

that has been left to me

was a diary written by Adrian.

I don't have the diary.

Excuse me?

I burnt it.

But it belongs to me.

It doesn't belong to anyone.

Boy:
Vroom, vroom, vroom!

Look!

I think you'll find that

the zoo is north of the river.

Unbelievable.

Uh...

I at least have,

uh, the right

to know what is in it.

Legally, yes.

Morally, no.

Have you any idea how

unsettling it was for me after

however many years it's been

to receive a letter

from your mother?

I can't be held accountable

for my mother's actions.

Actually,

as executor of her will,

I rather suggest that you can.

What's this?

Because you seem to need

something to read.

Bye, Anthony.

I'm sorry I raised my voice.

Hi.

Sorry.

That wasn't five minutes.

No, I know. It's...

Oh, quick. Right.

Traffic was dreadful.

I'm really sorry.

So this is it, is it?

No, it's a spectacularly

elaborate wind-up, dad.

Yeah, sorry, sorry, point taken.

Have you heard from mum?

Uh, no, no, but I phoned her

and she's in a meeting,

but I left a message.

Oh.

Oh!

Right. Okay.

Off we go.

Susie:
Dad,

I think I'm gonna be sick.

Tony:
You're gonna be sick?

Oh, this whole thing's

such a load of sh*t.

I mean, our gene pool

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