Tom and Viv Page #7
- Year:
- 1994
- 159 Views
The Haigh-Woods have been...
...buried as far afield as...
...Alberta. And Nepal.
Magistrates, counsellors, church wardens.
How unfashionable, yes.
Snigger behind Bloomsbury shutters
but that is true British stock.
Goes about its business
quite unexceptional.
And, I might add
never before has one of us
been carted off in disgrace
to a lunatics' house.
You swore to us Tom,
you would always look after Vivvie.
So now you're famous on a bookshelf.
What do we have left to give you?
I love this family.
I've always wanted to be a part of it.
- Family unity...
- No, please.
I've lived all my life in the hope that
Vivvie would be acceptable to someone.
It's not quite the moment
to give me the benefit of your mind.
Good night, Maurice.
Tom...
I'm off.
Day after tomorrow.
Africa.
Oh.
So soon.
Re-joining the regiment.
Of course.
Cheerio.
I will keep in touch.
Fratris.
Brother-in-law.
- Greek.
- Latin.
Squelch.
It's been splendid knowing you.
I feel I've touched history.
Well... sort of hung on.
Maurice...
What have we done?
Mrs Eliot?
Hi, I'm Captain Todd.
I believe you know Mr Davis,
from the border control?
- Yes, hello.
- Hello, Mrs Eliot.
- You're an American.
- That's right.
Seconded by my unit to
the Tavistock Clinic as an observer.
I've looking at your case history,
I was wondering if we could
go over a few things together?
Certainly.
Did any doctor ever mention
hormonal imbalance?
No.
When did menopause occur?
Seven years ago.
And since that time,
you've had pretty good health?
I have, remarkably, yes.
This treatment you had, I mean...
all there is, is this history of headaches,
followed by stomach pains and menstrual bleeding.
Yes I suppose you could sum up a quarter
of a century of frightfulness in that way.
You see today there are courses of hormone
treatment to maintain the uterus.
it's relatively simple.
Really?
You're legally separated from your husband?
I'm sorry to say that's true.
Look, Ma'am...
I'm not too acquainted with British law
but I understand your husband is a Trustee of
your estate and has control over your money.
Is that right?
I mean, could you clarify that?
I have no intention of clarifying anything,
I don't know what you're insinuating.
Well it seems to me that you're paying
for your own incarceration here.
I mean are you trying to say
that in all these years
no-one has ever made
an application for your release?
No member of your family, no Trustee?
How dare you?
My husband is the sweetest man on earth.
He had borne the most awful lies
and vilification with absolute courage
he belongs with Kings, covered in raiment.
Look, excuse me...
T.S. Eliot is the greatest living poet
in the English language.
Ma'am, I'm sorry,
I've never heard of T.S. Eliot.
And you won't belittle me that way.
I gave Tom the title to The Wasteland.
We worked together, side
by side for 15 years
I am threaded through every line of poetry
he has ever written!
And he has my undying love.
He will have it until
the last breath leaves my body.
And he knows it.
And nobody can ever take that away.
"The rending pain of re-enactment
of all that you have done...
...and been.
the shame of motives late revealed
and the awareness of things ill-done
and done to others' harm
which once you took for exercise of virtue.
Then fools' approval stings
and honour stains
from wrong to wrong,
the exasperated spirit proceeds.
Unless...
...restored by that refining fire."
SIREN SOUNDS:
"Where you must move in measure,
like a dancer."
This is the National Program.
- We now present, what is in effect...
- Tom!
Tom!
Ah, Tom, how good to see you!
Hello, Bertie.
How are you and what are you doing?
- Cheerio.
- Bye.
Normal things, for a poet.
Watching enemy planes, avoiding bombs...
...checking the blackouts. And you Bertie?
I suppose there was no other solution.
Of course, she was always unstable.
- You used to say she was a free spirit.
- Did I?
I don't recall.
Don't think it doesn't hurt.
She's with me all the time
every minute of the day.
Ah, my stop.
- Goodbye, Bertie.
- Goodbye.
She is well, Tom?
You have no right to ask that.
Tom?
There's a visitor for you, Mrs Eliot.
Vivvie...
Hello, Maurice.
God...
You look so fit.
That's Africa.
Ooh, tea.
I'll move these.
There you are.
It is.
- They're looking after you well?
- Oh, five star.
That's the spirit.
How was Africa?
Not bad.
Uh, saw off a few U-boats.
Gin is a bit difficult to come by.
They appointed me chief of police, Lagos.
Hurrah!
Had to give it up, though.
Hit a bit of a bald patch.
High commission wanted this victory parade
so we held a sunset curfew the night before
rounded up every dark blighter
we found on the streets
and popped them over to the chief
magistrate's court the next morning.
No chief magistrate.
I'd locked the rascal
up with all the others.
Red faces all round.
Dear old Vivvie.
I want to know how you are.
How it's all gone.
- Pretty quiet.
- Really?
Must have had masses of visitors.
Celebs from the book world.
Not masses.
I mean, you do see chums?
Chums drop by?
You're the first "chum" I've seen
since Mummy died.
Ah.
But there's still old Tom.
Yes.
Well, he must write, sort of thing?
I haven't heard from Tom in 10 years.
But you are alright?
I mean, you seem so okay.
I'm as sane as you are, Maurice.
Which may not amount to much,
God knows, but...
Ah, squelch.
I've learned to cook.
Wait here.
DOORBELL RINGS:
I want you to give this to Tom.
It's his favourite, chocolate fudge.
You know how he loves chocolate.
I've really no idea when I'll see him,
I can't promise.
But when you do.
Yes.
Bound to bump into him, of course.
I have to go now, Maurice.
I don't want to miss supper.
Bye, Maurice.
Chin up.
Maurice!
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