This Happy Breed Page #4

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but I'm not like Vi. She's a quiet one.

I'm different.

Mum sometimes says that all I think about

is having a good time, but -

Well, it isn't only that.

I don't see any harm

in wanting to have a good time.

That's what everybody wants

one way or another.

I'll tell you something awful.

I hate living here.

I hate living in a house that's exactly

like hundreds of other houses.

I hate coming home from work on tube.

I hate washing up

and helping Mum darn Dad's socks...

and listening to Aunt Syl keeping on

about how ill she is all the time.

And what's more,

I know why I hate it.

It's because it's all so common.

There.

I suppose you'll think I'm getting

above myself, and I can't blame you.

Maybe I am.

But I can't help it.

And that's why I don't think

I'd be a good wife for you...

however much I loved you.

And I do.

I really do.

Oh, Billy.

Here. Hold on, dear.

There isn't anything to cry about.

I know you mean all right.

It's only - It's only natural

you should feel that way about things.

And you don't think I'm awful then,

do you? And mean?

Nah, of course I don't.

Come on now. Cheer up.

Hey, you don't want to have red eyes

on Christmas Day, now, do you?

[Sniffles]

Oh, Bill, I'm sorry.

Please forgive me.

- [Door Closes]

- Was that Queenie?

Oh, hello, Mr. Gibbons.

Y- Yes, I think it was.

Oh, I see.

Must be a bit miserable going back

to work on Christmas night, isn't it?

[Chuckles] Oh, I don't know.

It's all right once you're there, you know.

Aren't you coming in to the drawing room?

No, thanks, Mr. Gibbons.

No, I'd rather not if you don't mind.

All right, son.

I'll walk down to the gate with you.

I could do with a breath of fresh air myself.

- How old are you, Billy?

- Getting on for 22.

- Oh, I wish I was.

- Good night, Mr. Gibbons.

- Night, Mr. Mitchell.

- Good night, dear.

Good night.

- Mr. Gibbons?

- Yes, son?

If in two or three years' time,

when I've worked my way up a bit...

Queenie and me got married,

would you mind?

Well, if Queenie wanted to,

it wouldn't matter whether I minded or not.

She'd get her own way, you know.

She always does.

Next commission, I may be drafted overseas.

By the time I get back,

I ought to be earning better pay.

That is, if I've been behaving myself.

What does Queenie think about it?

Well, that's the trouble.

I think she thinks that being

a sailor's wife might be a bit hard going.

Yeah, she likes having a good time,

our Queenie.

But maybe she'll calm down a bit later on.

Here's hoping anyhow.

If you get the chance, Mr. Gibbons,

you might sort of...

put in a word for me now and again.

All right there, son.

I'll do my best.

Now go on. Hop it.

- Thanks. Good night, Mr. Gibbons.

- Good night.

Oh, and, uh, good luck, son.

[Giggling] Mr. Leadbitter,

you're just in time to turn over for me.

When I was a girl,

I played without music at all.

Edie was awfully pleased

with the crackers, Mum.

[Waltz]

[Sylvia]

Pale hands I loved

Beside the Shalimar

Where are you now?

Who lies beneath your spell?

Whom do you lead

On Rapture's roadway, far

Before you agonize them in farewell?

Before you agonize them

In farewell?

Oh, Frank, you are awful

not coming back like that.

- You knew Sylvia was going to sing.

- What about you?

- Came to find you.

- We know all about that.

- Want the light on?

- No, it's all right as it is.

Here. Come and sit down.

It's a nice cigar Reg gave me.

Is he in there?

Yes, he came in just now

with that Sam Leadbitter.

What's the betting they haven't been

smoking themselves silly up in Reg's room?

Well, it is Christmas.

I don't think much of that Sam Leadbitter.

Taken all round,

he seems a bit soft to me.

I wouldn't call him soft exactly.

But he'll grow out of it.

But it's wrong, isn't it?

All this "down with everything" business?

Well, there's something to be said for it.

There's always something

to be said for everything.

But where they go wrong is trying

to get things done too quickly.

We don't like doing things quickly

in this country.

It's like gardening.

Somebody once said

we was a nation of gardeners.

Yeah, they weren't far wrong.

We like planting things

and watching them grow...

and looking out for changes

in the weather.

[Clicks Teeth]

You and your gardening.

What works in other countries

won't work in this one.

We've got our own way

of settling things.

It may be a bit slow

and it may be a bit dull...

but it suits us all right

and always will.

- [Sylvia Continues]

- Oh, do listen to Sylvia.

She's off on "Bird of Love Divine" now.

- You know that always makes Reg laugh.

- Huh.

Poor old Syl.

We ought to be getting back really.

It'll be teatime in a minute.

It's cozy in here.

- Got quite dark, hasn't it?

- Hmm.

[Sylvia Holds Note]

[Bell Jingling]

Don't crowd. Don't crowd.

Let the passengers off first, please.

Let them off first.

Here we are. Come on, laddie.

That's right.

Now, don't crush -

All right.

Room for two only.

[Whistles]

[Gears Grinding]

Feels sort off flat now, doesn't it?

All being over, I mean.

It's wicked. That's what I call it.

Downright wicked,

upsetting the whole country like that.

I'm going upstairs to wash a pair

of stockings out for the morning.

I wish Reg would come home.

I wish I knew where he was.

I'll give that Sam Leadbitter

a piece of my mind when I see him.

Mr. Rogers says that conditions

up north are something terrible.

He says the government may have won

this time, but next time it won't be so easy.

You and your Mr. Rogers.

Mr. Rogers is a very clever man.

He's been very kind to me, and I like him.

So there.

Like him?

[Scoffs]

I should just think you did. We get nothing but

"Mr. Rogers this" and "Mr. Rogers that"...

from morning till night.

I should like to know what

Mrs. Rogers has to say about it, I must say.

Oh, look here, Mrs. Flint.

If you're insinuating -

You give me a pain, Sylvia, really you do,

the way you keep on about that man.

Just because he pays you a few shillings

now and again...

for designing them Christmas cards

and calendars.

You're doing nothing more or less

than throwing yourself at his head.

- Mrs. Flint, how can you?

- Oh, do be quiet, you two.

I've got quite enough to think about without listening

to you two snapping at each other all the time.

Sylvia can go and live

with Mr. Rogers for all I care.

That's a nice way to talk, Ethel,

I must say.

Now look here, Sylvia.

I'm tired, see? We're all tired.

And what's more,

I'm worried to death about Reg.

I haven't slept properly

since he had that row with his dad...

and slammed out of the house.

If on top of all that I have

to listen to you and Mother...

go on nag, nag, nag at each other

about nothing at all...

I shall lose my temper, and that's a fact.

I'm sure I haven't said anything.

Oh, yes, you have. You're always

giving Sylvia sly digs about Mr. Rogers.

And if he's taken a fancy to her,

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