Rings on Their Fingers (1978) s01e01 Episode Script

News, Standard, papers.
Mind out! Home! Mmm, smells good.
In here, darling.
Well, I didn't think you were doing it in the bathroom.
Mmmm.
- Breast of lamb.
- Breast? I'm a bottom man, myself.
We can't afford rump.
At least there's no VAT on that.
Did you have a good day? Not according to Victor Brown.
He counted how often I yawned - it came to 33.
How is poor old Victor? A bit low.
His divorce is costing him a bomb.
He's making his own cigarettes and stealing toilet rolls from the office loo.
Someone's been at the white wine.
- The breast had it.
- Eh? Honestly, darling, I only used a drop.
Anyway, the gravy will be delicious.
You'd better serve it in a glass.
Good Lord, some lambs have all the luck.
- How was your day? - Full of noise and movement.
Really? The typewriter chatted its way to the end of its thing.
Then the bell pinged, so I pushed it back again.
Well, we've both got something to put in our diaries tonight.
If Samuel Pepys had lived a life like ours, he'd have been out of print years ago.
Let's drink to forget.
No, thanks, Oliver, I'll have mine with the meal.
We could do what Victor does when he's as low as this.
He puts in cochineal, adds ice and soda and pretends it's a Campari.
I'll have it neat.
Why not? The breast did.
- Cheers, love.
- Cheers.
And I'll pop round to the off-licence.
- No, thanks.
- Hang the expense.
Oh, it's not the expense.
It's the aftermath.
Remember the other night, when we'd had those few glasses of wine and went to bed? You gave me a kiss - not just a quick peck before you started snoring, but one of those long, lingering kisses.
And I thought to myself, "Hello, night of passion ahead.
" Well Night of passion.
You dropped off to sleep with your face on top of my face.
Oh, no I don't believe that.
Dropped off in the middle of a kiss.
- I must have had a hard day.
- Huh! Counting yawns.
Well, if I'd counted mine that night, I'd have needed an adding machine.
I'll go.
Have a look at that lamb, make sure it isn't sloshed.
Hello.
Miss Bennett.
Hang on a minute.
Miss Bennett? - Who is it? - Who's speaking, please? Ronald Shadbolt? I'm incredibly sorry, my wife is not available at the moment.
Can I give her Oh.
He rang off.
Well, if he thought I was married Who is Ronald Shadbolt? Oh, he's one of the new buyers who fancies himself.
I can't imagine how he got my number.
"My wife isn't available"! Actually, you know, it sounded rather nice.
- What did? - "My wife".
It didn't to Ronald Shadbolt.
My wife You're not getting broody again, are you? Broody? The love and marriage syndrome.
No, of course not.
You've got that funny look like after Andrew got married.
- Weddings make me cry.
- I nearly cried, seeing Andrew standing there with the vicar.
He looked like a man facing a firing squad, waiting for a blindfold and a last cigarette.
- They're very happy.
- They say they're happy.
They put on a happy face.
They have to, or we might ask for our wedding presents back.
Good grief, what possible difference could a piece of paper make? Yes, well.
When did we last see them, hm, Andrew and Julie? I saw Julie today, as a matter of fact.
Just to wave to.
I think they're still decorating their new flat.
Exactly! That is the difference a piece of paper makes.
You've got to move and decorate.
You can't carry your bride over a threshold of sin, can you? A place like this where you're happy and comfortable, you can come home and drop everything.
Sorry, love, it was that smell that hit me.
And just look at this.
Divorce statistics, highest ever.
They go to all the trouble and expense of getting that bit of paper, and four years later, they're paying solicitors through the nose to get it torn up.
Just like Victor.
Dividing their property and making appointments to see their children.
It's all to do with that wretched bit of paper.
It alters people.
They have to swap a nice, cosy, uncluttered uncluttered existence Sorry.
for all the rules and regulations of that outdated institution called marriage.
- When's the meal going to be? I'm famished.
- 10 minutes.
10? I don't want that gravy to evaporate.
- Sandy.
- Yes? I'm sorry to go on.
I have heard it before, you know.
I love you.
Heard that before? Well, I don't mind that bit.
- There'll never be anyone else.
- Thank you.
I admit my eye's occasionally caught by a well-stacked frock, but I avert my gaze.
- Oh, really? - Immediately.
- Is your eye ever caught? - By a well-stacked frock? No, um - No, a well-stacked - Of course, darling.
I mean, London's full of beautiful men, you know.
Anyway, you're different.
I wouldn't cook Ronald Shadbolt's dinner, or wash his socks or make his bed.
- Is Ronald Shadbolt beautiful? - To somebody, yes.
- Who? - Ronald Shadbolt.
Thank you for six sensational years.
- My pleasure.
- Oh, it's been mine too.
Oh, good.
The great thing is - sorry to hark back to Andrew and Julie - we've discussed it before - If we ever - Yes, I know.
No drama, no fuss, no legal eagles like Victor's got, picking his bones white.
No.
Knowing that we can just float out of each other's lives the way we floated into them.
- Yes.
- It's the whole point, isn't it? - No shackles.
- No.
- Like an open prison.
- Yes what? I think I'd better go and check the oven.
- Here, what's this? - What? "Mr and Mrs Norton invite Miss Bennett and Mr Pryde to the wedding of their daughter.
" Jane, yes, she's getting married.
- Jane? - Norton.
Girl at the office.
You met her once, I think.
Carve.
So you were broody.
I thought so.
Oh, Oliver, for heaven's sake.
How long's she been living with Derek erm? - Richards.
- How long? - They haven't.
- Haven't had a trial run? As far as I know, they haven't even been to bed together.
- Haven't been to - Hurry up, everything's ready.
- What about the table? - It's laid.
More than can be said for your friend and Derek thingy.
Poor devils.
Slaves to convention! Oliver.
I think she ought to get him looked at quick.
Or maybe he could try one of those chemists in the Charing Cross Road.
- Oh, shut up! - What? Well, I'm sorry.
But you don't know Jane and I do.
She happens to be very happy.
And so is her fiancé.
Huh! I bet they're still together long after you and I have God, what was that expression you used? escaped from our open prisons into the arms of other people.
Aagh! What other people? What? Oh, nobody.
Where's my wine? I could do with a drink.
Marriage! It's always marriage.
- What is? - Causes a blow-up.
We haven't had a row since Andrew and Julie got married.
That invitation started us off.
- Let's forget about it.
- I don't even know them.
Two total strangers mucking up my evening.
Bloody cheek.
- Sorry about the potatoes.
- What? They're a bit hard.
- They're fine.
- Sure? Sandy, I am kinky for boiled golf balls.
But what I can do without is this pathetic urge of yours which surfaces every so often.
What pathetic urge? To be conventional - like Andrew and Julie and those two virgins in your office.
I'm conventional now.
Desperate to get that little bit of paper What? I said I'm conventional now.
And so are you, my darling.
"Good grief, what possible difference could a piece of paper make?" You and I are so conventional, we deserve a place in the Guinness Book Of Records.
To get married is the unconventional thing to do.
Do you know, there are so many people living together now, the registry offices are thinking of making a commercial? There are more divorces now than ever before.
All right, but it's not a sudden modern malaise, is it? And if people get married and it doesn't work out, it's for the same reasons it's always been.
They weren't suited, or he had a roving eye, or she likes gin on her cornflakes.
So they get divorced.
But surprise, surprise, in no time at all, they're going after your little piece of paper again.
And they are getting married again - sometimes to different people, but quite often to each other.
I don't know what has caused this extraordinary outburst.
Unless there's more wine in you than in the gravy.
I tell you this, Sandy, we are never sending out one of these.
I know.
What? You said it yourself- no drama, no fuss, no legal eagles.
I mean, we can just float out of each other's lives the way we floated into them.
You want to split up? No.
Well, what are you saying? I'm tired of being conventional.
- You do want to send out one of these? - More than one, if possible.
Just because some girl in your office wants to go on the pill? - No, because I love you! - I love you, we talked about that.
- And I want to marry you.
- But you're not pregnant! Oliver, it does occasionally happen, you know, that a bride walks up the aisle without a strategically placed bouquet and a booking at a maternity home.
Up the aisle? Oh, you've got it all worked out, haven't you? A white wedding, is it? White? More like deep purple.
Look church or registry office, I don't mind.
Well, I do mind, and it's neither.
Come on, love, it's stone cold.
Yes.
Look, I had lunch in the pub.
How about leaving all this till tomorrow? We can buy some more wine and give the lamb a really decent drink.
Sandy, much more of this nonsense and we shall be floating out of each other's lives.
Correction, we'll be flying out by Concorde.
Right.
Who flies, you or me? Don't tempt me.
It was my place first, I brought you back.
Fine.
I'll fly.
I wouldn't want to spend any more time with somebody who dreams of gilt-edged invitations, six bridesmaids and Westminster Abbey.
Has your mother been getting at you again? Miss Virginal Respectability of 1947.
You've shared this flat with me for six years, and every time she calls, we have to put up the camp bed for me in here.
What are you doing? I'm collecting up some of my things.
Collecting up? Well, this is mine, for a start.
- No, it's not.
- I won it at that fair.
I won it at the fair.
You won the goldfish.
Don't you touch my goldfish! It died two months ago.
Well, that is certainly mine.
- I bought that.
- For me.
- For the flat.
- For both of us.
Get a hacksaw and cut it down the middle, then.
There's a photo of us both.
Would you like to cut that down the middle? If so, which bit would you like to keep - you or me? You're not having those poppies.
I made them, Oliver.
You only made the leaves.
I made the difficult part - that black bit in the middle.
Half each.
I can't concentrate with you hovering over me like a bailiff.
I shall come back in the morning when you're when you're out.
And where are you going to spend your evening? I am not telling you.
I don't want you ringing every five minutes.
Ringing up? What about - to ask you back? No, to ask where the coffee is.
Or your clean socks.
Or your foot powder.
A hundred to one you're going to Mummy and Daddy.
I doubt it.
I am not in the mood for a night of variations on a theme called "I told you so".
I shall very probably spend the evening with a girlfriend.
Or a boyfriend.
A-ha, is that what it's all about? You've fallen for some oily creep, and I wouldn't be surprised if his name was Ronald Shadbolt.
You look like a bride, do you know that? Sandy! Morning, Oliver.
Morning, Victor.
I decided to give up smoking today.
While I was in the chemist with my tranquiliser prescription, I asked about one of those anti-smoking courses.
They were £5.
50.
£5.
50! Good Lord, I could buy myself an iron lung with that.
So now I'm back rolling my own.
Oh, Veronica's bleeding me white, Oliver.
I keep asking myself, what did I ever see in her? God knows, Victor.
They're all cows under the skin, aren't they? No, not all.
I mean, there's you and Sandy.
- Including Sandy.
- Eh? We split up last night.
Oh, Lord.
Oh, I am sorry.
No, don't be.
She got her old trouble back.
It's like a phantom pregnancy, only in her case, it's a phantom wedding service.
Oh, it'll blow over.
No, Victor, I've seen you suffer and suffered with you.
That is not going to happen to me.
- I wouldn't bet on it.
- Eh? - You read the papers, don't you? - Cartoon and sports page.
The law is changing, Oliver.
Forgive my describing Sandy as a mistress Ex-mistress.
Either way, she's got a stake in your flat, your possessions and your bank balance.
Just like my Veronica.
Case after case in the courts.
If she contributed to your life together, especially if she was hoping to marry Sandy wouldn't know about that.
She only reads the cartoon and recipe page.
Veronica only read the Radio Times.
She's as hot on law now as Perry Mason.
You mean she could rip me off? It's my flat.
She's got a third stake in it.
A third? You mean she could requisition the kitchen? And ask for any money she put into the place.
But that's not going to happen, is it, Oliver? - No.
- No.
No, it's not.
It's damn well not.
A third? I'll ring her.
Six years is six years, eh? And I do love her.
Of course I do.
I missed her like hell last night.
The bed was freezing.
And this morning.
There was no-one to moan to over breakfast.
We'll patch this thing up.
We're a good pair.
It's just this temporary thing of hers, this phantom thing about confetti and rice.
Extension 278, please.
Once she's home, I'll take her out to dinner.
We've got a marvellous Indian place.
Very evocative smell, curry.
Nothing like the smell of poppadoms and bombay duck to get the happy memories back.
Miss Bennett, please.
Eating out of my hand, she'll be.
As long as there's a bombay duck on it.
What? Oh, yes, yes.
Jolly good, Victor.
I don't know why Veronica ever left you, a man with a sense of humour like yours.
Hello.
Hello, darling, I'm ringing to say I'm sorry.
Very sorry.
I've missed you terribly and please can we put our poppies together again? - Yes.
- Yes? Yes.
If you'll marry me.
Ah, now, let's just Let's just get back together.
I want to marry you, Oliver.
- We've had a super six years.
- Now I want to be unconventional.
We'll talk about it.
Just so long as you come home tonight.
- Will we talk about marriage? - Everything.
I only want to talk about marriage.
Listen, you silly old thing.
Darling, come home tonight.
I've been talking to Jane.
Bloody Jane! Did you know, Oliver, that I am entitled to a third of the flat? Oliver? Half our possessions.
And all the money I've given you for decorating.
Jane's father's a judge.
- Yeah, he had to be.
- What did you say? Nothing.
Listen And, Oliver, if we had a baby, I would get custody.
We haven't got a baby! - I know.
- Well, then.
I don't want one till after we're married.
So, Oliver, what's it going to be? It is going to be you coming home tonight and me taking you out to the Khyber Pass.
About marriage.
What's it going to be about that? I keep telling you.
Oliver.
I can't propose over the phone.
Darling I love you and I want to marry you.
And I want to know what you feel about me.
Look, this evening.
Now.
Now? Well, after six years, what difference does six more hours make? We'll have a chat over a nice Madras chicken and a Bombay duck.
I know what you're going to do.
You're going to try and talk me into coming back home.
Well, no, I'm sorry, Oliver, but I'm going to hang up now.
I shall be round in a taxi, Oliver, tonight at seven o'clock, to collect my things.
And, please, don't follow me round the flat.
It'll make me cry.
Goodbye.
Will you marry me, Sandy?! What did you say? Well, you heard me.
Well, yes, I did, but I want to hear it again.
Oh, now, come on.
Please.
Will you marry me? Pardon? Will you marry me? Yes! Oh, yes, I will.
Oh, Oliver.
I'll make you so happy.
We'll be very, very happy.
I promise you.
I promise we will.
Right, well, no taxi, then.
- No.
- No.
And no Indian restaurant either? - No.
- No.
We'll go to that nice expensive French place.
You know, the one with red table cloths.
- Remember? Red table cloths and candles.
- Yeah.
And we can have snails and champagne.
Anyway, listen, darling.
I'll see you at home later on.
OK? Bye.
Bye.
Oliver, let me be the first to congratulate you.
Oh, thank you.
Road hog! Darling! Oh! Mr and Mrs Oliver Pryde! Mm.
I've been rehearsing it all day.
Do you know, I couldn't believe it.
I mean, you suddenly asking me to marry you like that, right out of the blue.
Oh, darling.
I cried.
Do you know that? Then Jane cried.
Then everybody was crying.
Oh, you mean they don't think it's a good idea? A good idea? It's the best idea you ever thought of.
- I ever thought of? - Mm.
Hey, listen.
I saw a lovely ring on the way home.
- Ring? - Mm.
- Will you come and see it with me tomorrow? - Engagement ring? It's a sapphire in the middle with little diamond chips round the outside.
An engagement ring after sharing a bed for six years? Oh, I must ring my mother.
You'll be wanting an announcement in the Times next.
- Oh, no.
- Oh, good.
No, the Telegraph.
We don't need a long engagement, do we? What do you think, darling? - Well, a long engagement - I think less than a month.
I agree with you.
Mum Hello.
Sandy.
Yes, um, Mum I'm getting married.
To whom? - What? - Not to Oliver Pryde? Yes! Oh, good heavens, Sandra.
Why do you suppose your father and I have turned a blind eye to the two of you sharing a flat all these years? Because we have been patiently waiting for you to get over your infatuation and meet a man with looks and flair and a future.
Gordon.
Sandra wants to get married.
To that awful Oliver Pryde.
Oh, thanks, Mum.
Yes, bye.
She's thrilled.
- Really? - Absolutely thrilled.
Now, I think you'd better phone yours.
Come on.
Oh.
- Oliver - Mm? I would like a church wedding.
Just a teeny weeny weeny little church with no bridesmaids.
Mm, well, I ought to have my twin cousins.
Yes, but if I have them then I've got to have my three nieces.
Oh, well, I mean, after that just parents, relatives and very close friends, hm? Shouldn't be more than about 70 people.
- Hello.
- Oh, Dad, um Hello.
Mum usually beats you to it, doesn't she? Yes, just to say that Sandy and I are going to get married.
Married? Don't talk to me about marriage, Oliver.
If you'll take my advice, you'll steer well clear of it.
I didn't beat your mother to the phone.
Your mother isn't here to answer the phone.
She's gone stalking over to her sister's again.
Just because she wanted to watch a horror film on television and I wanted to see the basket-weaving programme.
She's even taken the key to the freezer with her.
Live with the girl, Oliver.
Live with her.
Marriage may only be a piece of paper but for the rest of your life you feel like ramming it down your wife's throat.
Yes.
OK, then, Dad.
Well, thanks.
Bye.
- Well? - Over the moon.
Isn't that marvellous? Now, then, come on, I think you'd better get changed.
Because I booked the table for 7:30.
Changed? Well, you've been in that suit all day.
Well, nobody got off the train.
Look, quick bath, into the light grey, OK? Oh, and on Saturday we can go to the shops.
- Shops? - Mm.
Buy you a new suit.
For the wedding.
Honestly, you know something, darling? You look like I feel.
A few inches off the ground.
Everything's the same but it's all so different, suddenly, isn't it? Yes.
Oliver I know that we can't really afford tonight but, well, it is a very special occasion, isn't it? Oh, and Jane has given me a miniature bottle of brandy.
So, I thought that when we come back from the restaurant, full of garlicky snails and champagne, that we could put on that Simon and Garfunkel record.
And we could sip our brandy and have a nice, long slow dance before we go to bed.
Now, we haven't done that for ages, have we? No.
Mm.
You see what getting engaged does for you.
It's like being right back at the beginning, like when we first met.
Come on, then.
- Help! - Yes.
I think we had better put that up for you before we go out.
What, the camp bed? Well, only till after we're married, darling.