The Village (2013) s02e02 Episode Script

1 It came down from the High Peak hollering and clamouring and we lost our heads and our hearts to the most exciting idea humankind has ever had, better than God or farming or electricity which is love.
What do we need to live? Arnold, what Come on.
What can't we do without? Jesus.
What else? Servants.
What makes us human? Oxygen? And? - Water? - Music, Norma.
Music.
Arnold, I haven't left a busy shop Come on, what do we do to music? - Do? - Yeah.
Fall asleep? Dance.
This is a dance hall.
This is Hey, it's like New Orleans in the Peak District.
I shall be returning forthwith to my duties as a wife who stands behind the shop counter.
You will go forthwith to ascertain that your feckless son hasn't turned a profitable boot factory into Norma Rose Hankin.
Will you come to the grand opening dance with me? Have you lost all sense of decorum? Aye.
Aye, I have.
And I'm gonna replace it with jazz.
I don't understand.
What's happening? You a dancer, John? No? I could deliver milk straight to your shop every day, fresh.
Ah, but it wouldn't be bottled.
No but it would be, it would be fresh.
But you can't guarantee the number of pints each day? No.
I'm spending my life out in field, milking cows, every day.
I'm sorry for you, John.
But there's no room for pity in business.
I would have followed Martha Allingham to the North Pole and back.
Married, seven years my senior, she was the only girl for me.
Only, she wasn't.
There was someone else.
I just didn't know it yet.
"Dear Bert, this is a difficult letter to write" I've not told you how I feel but if I don't soon I think I might explode.
I'll be outside the bath house at 11:00 on Sunday if you'd like to meet me.
We could go for a walk.
It wasn't signed and it wasn't dated.
Who'd have thought it would cause such a rumpus.
Hey hey hey hey hey! Phoebe's done a love letter.
"The desire of the moth for the star, "Of the night for the morrow, the devotion to something afar, "from the sphere of our sorrow.
" Grace? Bert! Where are you? It's market day.
We'll sell the calf.
But the calf's young, John.
It's a calf.
We're farmers.
You'll take the calf to market and you'll get a good price for her.
You promised.
Listen to me.
The five pounds Bert won goes towards wages for farm labourer.
We need money.
You promised.
Tell her, Bert.
If we sell the calf now, then what? A cow next week? Then what happens? We've less milk to sell.
- How does that work, John? - It has to.
Well, it's too small.
What? Something bigger needs to change.
Every town, every village, always you.
Sorry? Men of God, the first to turn up.
So what is it? Fear? Guilt? Sex.
Married love.
Spread the word.
Come on, Mary.
You heard your father.
I'm proud of you, Mary.
Come on.
Muddy udders.
Get 'em washed while I'm gone.
It's market day.
I'm going to The Lamb.
No, you're not.
We're farmers.
I'm going to take a risk.
And guess that you're all over 30.
- I've stopped counting.
- Which is good news.
Oh, I love a politician.
Growing old is a good thing? It is when it means women can vote.
Women? Are we not ladies? You're voters.
You're not second class any more.
Socialists in shorts.
- And they're a cycling club? - I don't care if it's the Coconut Club.
I'm not voting for anyone that wants to show me his knees.
You won't remember me.
Yes.
Yes, I do.
You're Bert Middleton's mother.
Sunday at 11:00.
Cycle ride from here up the Kinder Road.
There's always an answer, I promise.
And it's never as bad as you think.
Can intimate relations end a pregnancy? No.
No, love, it's perfectly all right to continue for as long as you want to.
It won't damage baby.
You should tell your husband not to worry.
He may get uncomfortable as you, as you get a lot bigger so you should give consideration to the realm of sexual activity beyond intercourse.
Oh, don't worry.
You might like it.
Ladies do.
He's not my husband! and it's sold to the gentleman.
You're Martha Lane.
Allingham.
What you doing here today? Selling me calf.
You're selling a calf? - Is that your calf over there? - I'll be right back.
The thing is, I'm, er, I'm looking for a young calf.
I'll give you a good price.
We keep a pig.
Kept a pig.
We killed it, two week ago.
It's nice to see you, Bert.
It's one thing writing it, it's quite another actually posting it.
I've asked a lot of you, haven't I? No.
No.
No, you've been a mother to the boys all this time.
Well, make sure you have some time before you start being a mother again.
Is that what Mummy would have said? She wrote me a letter before she died.
"To be opened when I'm gone away.
" What did it say? She said, "Women love a widower, "so here's a list of ladies in the village you're not to let near you.
"If you do, I'll be back to haunt you.
" And the second thing? "Remember how much we loved each other.
"And don't let Phoebe settle for anything less.
" It's market day.
If you're sure, take it and give it to him.
Faster, ladies.
Ten more, boss.
Agnes, you look unwell.
- The glue - Gets in your lungs.
Sorry.
Sorry? Why? I can move you to packing boxes, if you want to Move? - Muddy udders.
- What? Washing mud off cows udders so milk stays clean.
Right.
It's your round.
Bugger, bum, bugger, bum, bugger, bum.
Bum and bugger! Please.
Give him this, please? Walk on! Rosie Arbuthnot.
Haystack.
- Haystack? - Yep.
On top or underneath? I beg your pardon? Behind.
Mister Eyre? Frances Gifford.
The day I got out of prison.
I was alone and she reminded me what human warmth could be.
That's a very moving story.
Was she a prostitute? Yes.
Bert? He's waiting for the right girl.
Eh? Come on.
Have a good evening.
Lipstick Do you like it? You're my girl.
Yeah.
- I've got an hour.
- Is that all? Edmund Allingham's got an electable face, but he needs all of me brains and most of me time.
You're the only thing I leave the Big House for.
After the election will there be more than an hour? What do you want, Agnes? "The desire of the moth for the star, of the night for the morrow.
" Gas! Gas masks on! Gas masks on! It's me.
It's me.
It's Martha.
I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry.
- It's all right, it's all right.
- I didn't know.
Have you asked Hankin about taking our milk? No.
We'll be late for chapel.
I've too much to do.
Too much for God? Got something bigger, Grace? I'm not coming either.
I'm taking photos in village.
Come on.
I think I should sleep alone.
- Hello.
- I hoped you'd come.
- Did you? - Yes.
Nobody else has.
Can I be honest with you? Yes.
If you don't vote for me I can't win this election.
I'm just one person.
You're the woman who has never voted before and there are eight million like you.
You are much, much more than one person.
Beautiful, isn't she? The curve, here and skirt guards, which are a revolution in cycling, but, sometimes they don't work and a skirt can get caught.
So Bloomers.
I've er I've, I've never been on a bicycle before.
- You look exhausted Mrs, uh - Hankin.
Every night when I get into bed, I hope things will be better.
- I understand.
- You do? Each night is the same.
Dull, unexciting.
Yes.
Well, first things first, Mrs Hankin.
Are you taking precautions? Well, every married couple needs to plan, so they can relax.
Oh, um, no.
We don't, er How regularly do you and your husband enjoy yourselves? Enjoy ourselves? Never.
That's why I'm here.
The man climbs on board, a huff and a puff and it's over.
You're not alone.
I can help.
But in the meantime you need this.
I can show you how to fit it.
I think it's a bit big.
Oh, it's not for him.
Oh? How long have you been married? Years and years.
Without ever Nothing.
The thing is to catch him at the right moment, whilst not putting any pressure on him.
When he's doing something that makes him happy and he's not thinking about the problem, pounce.
Harlots and publicans And thieves - Where's Grace? In holy triumph join Saved is the sinner that believes Sorry, you should just I'm, I'm holding you up, so you should just go.
From crimes As great as mine I'll I can walk home from here.
I'm not having that.
You go on.
We'll catch you up.
Right you are, Bill! I promise you, you can do this.
- I can't.
- Yes, you can.
Go on Lord We ask for your guidance in everything we do.
Show us the right path to take, towards the brighter morning we all long for.
Do not, do not let go! The contentment we all seek in our lives of hard struggle.
Amen.
Look at me.
Don't think, you mustn't think.
Trust me.
- I'm scared.
- Head up.
- Look forward.
- I'm looking.
I am Ahh! - Go! - Ahh! Help me! Yay! Right you are.
Thank you very much.
Hello, Mary.
How are you? Eh? How's your mum? Can I speak with you? Uh Yeah, just come over.
Ohh! "Power, like a desolating pestilence, "pollutes what'er it touches.
" Your man, Percy.
Can you make it up there? Race you.
I work for me family and me farm 'cause I'm proud of them.
What are you asking me? Is pride a sin? Am I to be punished for, for sinning? No.
No.
When I'm outside I'm working with me hands, I clasp them together like this.
It's cold, for erm, for warmth.
In prayer.
Is he listening? Does he hear me? Absolutely.
Yes.
Oh.
Get down the mine and stay there until your lungs hack up gobs of black blood and when I've taken your breath away and you're on your deathbed, then I'll let you stop making me money, but don't worry, I'm not going away, I'll be putting your sons down the same dark hole in the ground as killed you.
They're for that, I'm against it.
Can I have your vote, please? Sorry.
No.
You're angry.
There's an idea in England that anger and seriousness are somehow bad manners.
Affability, easy charm, wit.
All very English.
All bedfellows of conservatism and the right way to be.
We mustn't be seen to actually mean what we say.
You first.
Or me? Together.
Whoo-hoo! I don't like this! - Hello.
- Oh.
Uh Hello.
You're not at the bath house.
Um.
No.
You're here.
- Yes.
- And I'm here too.
Shall we walk? Remember Mr Ingham? At school.
When he was hitting you.
I felt it.
I mean, I really felt it.
Do you want to know a secret? I'm left handed too, Bert.
Even if I wanted to take pictures.
Of what? For who? It's a village, Phoebe.
It's just a village.
Before she died, my mother taught me the name of every wild flower she knew.
I've looked for them all and I've found them all.
Everyone within a mile of here.
It's not just a village.
I'll walk you home, if you like.
- You'll walk me home? - If you like.
It's supposed to be the other way around, Phoebe.
Then I'll let you pick me up on Friday.
Hmm? The dance.
I'll be ready at 6:00.
There's a meeting.
At The Institute.
Friday night.
You could come.
Wait.
Don't be frightened.
You mustn't be frightened.
She's left handed.
Well, that's good.
Who is? Phoebe.
From the station.
One of your cows up in field, distressed.
She hasn't been milked.
Cruel, I'd say, and your responsibility.
Flowers? Did you get milking done? - No.
I was - Reading? And you? Let me ask you something.
Does poetry run a farm? He's more than just a poet, Shelley.
Where are you getting this from? Eh? - What's happening? - John You're my family.
Where are you? The two most eligible bachelors in London here at my humble country home.
Have you been reading Jane Austen, Mother? - Hmm? - Every day.
Robert.
Whenever I read Jane Austen I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin bone.
Oh? Is that you, Edmund, or someone else? Mark Twain, Mother.
Ah, yes.
Huck and Tom and boats and whatnot.
There are books for boys and books for grownup people.
Nothing happens, nobody says anything.
- What pride, huh? What prejudice? - Oh! It's not on the surface.
It's underneath.
Mmm.
Would you be interested in marrying my daughter, Robert? I should never have married George Allingham.
You were helping him.
He needed you, it was a sacrifice you made.
You don't condemn me? There's enough pain and guilt in the world.
What kind of a Minister are you? I'm your father.
First and last.
What should I do? There's a vacancy at the school.
Mr Ingham is leaving.
He's, er, opening a barber shop in Chesterfield.
- I'm married, I can't teach.
- I'm the committee.
Yes, you can.
You'd be teaching alongside Mr Eyre of course, so But I'm sure he'd be delighted to have you.
Somebody help! Bairstow! A worker moved, the worker who took her place didn't know what she was doing and she Chopped her finger off.
Why did the first worker move? - She was complaining.
- About? - Conditions.
- What, an agitator.
I suppose.
No.
No.
Sack her.
I was in charge.
I shouldn't have allowed the problem to arise.
Which is why it'll be your job.
- My job? - To tell her.
Just do it.
Have I lost my job? I never should have listened to you.
I shouldn't have moved.
I'm going to Allingham.
This is not right.
It wasn't him? - No.
- Well, who was it? Your father? Bairstow.
I promise, I'm going to make your life better.
You can't.
Nobody can.
I swear to you that I will.
You're from Yorkshire, aren't you? Why? You walk into rooms and sit down in them.
And then I speak my mind.
At least that's how the cliché goes.
What do you want? Harriet Kilmartin.
Lord Kilmartin's youngest.
Sorry? What? Your son has everything going for him - and one problem.
- Which is? Some of the wrong company.
Who? It doesn't matter.
Late 30s and still a bachelor.
That's not right.
Harry, Harriet isn't married either.
She's just the girl for the next Home Secretary to spend his life with.
It needs sorting.
Hey! What're you doing? It's yours, isn't it? I don't want your old milking machine.
I'll have your cows though.
- What? - Three pounds a head.
You got to be joking.
Don't be a fool, Middleton.
I'm giving you a chance here.
Take it.
- I'm twice your age.
- What's that got to do with it? You can't talk to me like that.
Is that all you've got? "You can't talk to me like that.
" If you were a real man you'd let the truth in.
You can't keep cows without a barn.
You'll never be a dairy farmer.
Get off of my land.
Ask your wife.
She knows.
Lesbians or motorists? I'm sorry? Lord Kilmartin wants an issue.
Something from you he can put in his newspapers so that your name's in the public consciousness.
So, a steadfast stand against lesbianism or should we be furious at plans for a speed limit on our roads? Is either quite serious enough? Sex and the motor car? Kilmartin's readership think of nothing else.
No, they want to be clear in their minds.
Women do not love each other and motoring is a dangerous sport certain to be spoilt if rules are attached to it.
This will work.
Bring cows to milking machine.
This is our cow shed, Bert.
But it's a bog.
Look.
The cows won't let down their milk here.
They just won't.
Robert? I have to know that what you do and what you say are both true.
It's not easy.
I love you.
Robert Would you ban women from loving other women? Given who we are, Edmund.
What's it to be? Me and your conscience, or politics and power? Are we filthy queers or men in love? Whoa, walk on, walk on.
Whoa, whoa.
Ohh, shit.
Is that farming? - You stay away from my wife.
- You're mad.
Stay away from her.
You're too proud, John.
You'll lose everything.
For Bert.
I thought I'd better remind myself what it feels like.
Your father came to see me.
To ask if you're happy with my appointment? Yes.
And are you? It's breaking the law.
I see.
I'm sorry.
It was foolish of me to I've broken the law before.
The law and what is right aren't always the same thing.
So? I just, uh, wanted to see how everything is.
Fine.
Good.
That's excellent.
You sure there isn't something you wanted to ask? No.
No.
No.
I'm really, er, making sure you're all right out here, on your own.
So, this is a visit in your professional capacity? Sorry? As God's representative in the village.
I'm lonely.
Ah, damn! Agnes? Agnes? What is it? I've lost my job.
Oh, no.
Agnes.
- They've sacked you? - Yeah.
What for? I was feeling sick from the glue.
So I moved.
I won't have this.
We won't have this.
- Grace, you don't - Don't be frightened.
You mustn't be frightened.
Thank you.
- Who's it from? - Mrs Allingham.
Martha? It looks wonderful.
Will it work? Will people come? Is that nearly it? Nobody came? There's a dance on.
What would you have said? I wasn't going to speak.
I was going to listen to the village.
What would you have said? Agnes Scrivener lost her job at the boot factory because she wanted to get away from what's choking her lungs.
Now the man who owns the boot factory Is Edmund Allingham.
I would have asked, "Who's going to help her?" Who's going to fight for what she's too frightened to fight for on her own? How does a woman stand up and find her voice? Would you consider accompanyaning Accompany The dance.
Do you want to come? - Come on.
We'll be late.
- You go.
I'm fine.
- I'm teaching again.
- Martha.
I absolutely insist.
Come on, we'll terrify the locals.
Come on! One, two.
One, two, three.
You are going to the dance.
I'll take you.
It's a dance hall and nobody's dancing.
They don't know how to, Arnold.
They don't know how to do it.
- Robert? - George.
Where are you going? Uh, I have to go back to London.
Have you said goodbye to Edmund? - No.
- I could do it for you.
What would you like me to say? Tell him Tell him I hope it's worth it.
- I'm sorry.
I forgot.
- Farm work? Two left feet, me.
Will you show me how? Me too.
I'm A farmer.
Shall we anyway? Yeah.
Sorry.
Martha Your letter.
I got it.
It's beautiful.
- But it was late, so - I'm glad you got it.
Yeah.
Thank you.
It was lucky I found it.
You found it? In the street.
Well, who did write it? It was me.
I wrote it.
You? Yes.
With my left hand.
Maybe the band should play something they all know? No, it's not the music.
They're all frightened of letting go.
Phoebe.
My mother said not to settle for anything less than the love she and my father had.
I've got an hour.
You all right, Agnes? - Let's go.
- No.
You took my job.
You can't have any more of me.
What? That was you? The agitator? Come with me and we'll talk about it privately.
Get away from her.
Fuck off.
- Ow! - I said get away from her.
Or what? You were the one who sacked her.
Oh, I get it.
You're feeling guilty and you want to rescue the poor little factory girl you did for? You're pathetic.
Leave him alone! You leave him alone! Dancing.
Fighting.
This is fantastic, Norma.
Come with me.
Pounce.
What's your name? - Joy.
- What? Joy.
I'm lonely too.
John? Wrong way around.
Bringing cows to machine in mud.
It's a mither.
Help me.
You see, we bring machine to the cows.
Whoa.
Whoa.
Where were you tonight? The Institute.
Oh, well, you're home now.
Dry land.
It's as firm as Hankin's dance floor.
Love had danced into the village and announced its giddy power.
It brought with it the twinned agonies of happiness and pain and every emotion in between.
It was the roaring '20s and love, public, private, thrilling, reckless, had made its move, and asked its big questions.
What's the best of us and the worst? Shall we dance?