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She told me once,
"When we read a story, we inhabit it."
"The covers of the books are like a roof and four walls."
"A house".
She, more than anything else in the world, loved the moment when you finish the book,
and the story keeps playing like the most vivid dream in your head.
And after that, she loved taking long walks
to clear her mind of all the emotions and feelings
the book had started within her.
That very morning,
after hazy years of reading and walking,
and mourning the death of her husband,
Florence Green woke up knowing exactly what she wanted to do.
She was going to open a bookshop in the little village where she'd ended up living.
I am convinced that this bookshop will be everything you say, Mrs. Green,
but, of course, for now I can give you no definite commitment on behalf of the bank.
The decision does not depend upon me.
And I have your honest assurance that you have ample experience in the trade.
I learned the trade very thoroughly when I was a girl.
and I don't believe it's changed greatly since then.
And more importantly I know...
I love reading.
Well, it would do little harm to let you know one or two things.
Consider them words of advice if you prefer.
She had a great heart,
and enormous patience.
But not even these two virtues were strong enough
to bear the grandiloquent and patronizing tones
of Mr. Keble, the Hardborough banker,
whom everyone called Mr Potatohead behind his back.
I should tell you there are those who believe
there are other possible uses for the old house.
Of course, there is always a possibility of a resale.
But I have no intention of reselling, Mr Keble. Not in the slightest.
What else do people think the Old House could be used for?
Why have they done nothing about it in the past seven years?
There were birds nesting in it,
half the tiles were off the roof, and it stank of rats.
Wouldn't it be better to fill the place with books for people to look at?
I read before going to sleep,
and I usually drift off to the land of Nod by about the third page.
So you see! Don't you realize how useful books can be?
The weather in this part of the world was totally unpredictable.
Sometimes all four seasons could be present in a single morning.
That sunny day, she left the bank
feeling angry, proud, impatient, and terribly alive.
She was going to pursue her dream,
and nobody, not even Mr. Potatohead, was going to stop her.
Hello, Mrs. Green! Are you busy?
Hello, Mr. Raven. Not at the moment. Why?
Can I throw the rope to you?
Yes, of course!
Watch out!
Very slippery. That's how Ethan broke his leg yesterday.
But I'm well aware that you are a woman who don't frighten easily.
How do you know that?
Rumour has it that you're about to open a bookshop here.
WHy do you feel it's something daring?
The only person here who reads is Mr. Brundish.
I don't think he's going to be leaving home to be your customer.
I think I saw him yesterday on the hill. Well, caught a glimpse of him anyway.
I imagine you had a long conversation!
Yes, never stopped talking!
Yeah, right.
Good luck, Mrs. Green!
Do you not read, Mr. Raven?
I don't.
Books leave me exhausted.
Real life is enough for me.
Mr. Brundish lived alone in the oldest house in Hardborough.
He didn't particularly like his own company,
but, after long years of battle,
he had reached a lasting truce with himself.
He adored books with the same passion with which he detested his fellow men.
He often cherished the fantasy that the volumes he devoured from morning till night
hadn't been written by human beings,
but had appeared through spontaneous generation.
There was nothing that bothered him more than the protraits of writers
often included in certain editions.
It's not red.
It is a very deep maroon
or rust.
Anyway, how is the old house? How are you coping?
Sam Wilkins was in and fixed the bath, and tarred the roof,
and repaired the system as best he could anyway.
That place is like an old fossil.
Even the straw is 500 years old.
OK, arms up.
There.
You are still going to move in there, aren't you?
I spent my first night there last night.
What! So soon?
I told everyone to watch out.
Nobody actually thought you were going to move into the Old House.
Yes, I know they didn't, but it was fine, a bit creepy in the night,
but that's because I'm not used to it yet, I suppose.
I should think a wooden and old house like that creaks everywhere.
I'm afraid red isn't really for me.
I mean it doesn't really look good on me from behind, but...
Perhaps if I stand against the wall next time I'm there...
- Too red, don't you think? - It's not...
It's not red.
It is a very deep maroon.
Yes.
You'll get used to it in time.
Need a bit of jewellery to make it stand out.
Yes.
- You sure? - Well, of course I'm sure.
It's not every day the General and Mrs Gamart invite you to a party, is it?
Stop agonizing!
You look...
lovely.
Anyway, when you get there, you won't have to worry how you look.
No one will mind you.
They'll probably know all the guests anyhow.
I'm Florence Green.
I am the one opening the little bookshop.
That's it, of course!
Thought of it right away!
Of course. Violet was very interested in that matter.
She wanted one of those conversations of hers...
with you about the bookshop.
She's rather caught up right now.
But I believe she wishes to talk to you later.
So...
What sort of stuff are you going to have in your shop?
Well...
Basically books.
They don't publish many books of poetry these days, do they?
I don't see too many about.
I shall have some poetry, of course,
but it doesn't sell quite so well as other things like novels and essays.
It will take me some time to find out what kind of stock I'll bring in.
For the moment I've mainly ordered classics. Thackeray, Dickens, Keats...
"It is easy to be dead."
"Say only this."
"They are dead".
Do you know who wrote that?
No.
I'm so sorry, I don't.
I know who you are.
Must be Mrs. Green.
Yes.
I know who you are, of course, Mr. North.
Though I've never had an invitation to the Stead before, I expect you come here often?
Yes, I do get invited frequently.
Oh, thank you. Very kind.
Not very.
You live on your own, don't you? You've just moved into the Old House.
All by yourself?
War widow.
I know.
Have you never thought of marrying again?
No.
The problem is I was very happily married.
How odd.
I was always under the impression that it's precisely when a woman is widowed
that she starts to get happy.
Are you sure you've received the proper advice to run a business?
I've never met you before now, Mr. North, but I assumed, because of your work,
you'd be someone who'd appreciate having a bookshop in Hardborough.
I'm sure you know writers at the BBC,
and thinkers and and so forth.
I trust they come down here from time to time to see you and get some fresh air.
If they did come...
I wouldn't know what to do with them.
Writers will go anywhere where there is a free drink.
I'm not so sure about thinkers.
I think Kattie, my so-called girlfriend, would look after them.
Anyway, you must both come to my shop. I shall rely on you.
On no account.
Why are you wearing red?
Red's the colour that only looks good on housemaids on their day off.
It's not red, it's a deep maroon.
My dear lady.
Florence, isn't it?
Yes.
I've been wanting to speak to you since you arrived,
but my guests have nothing better to do than steer me away from my priorities.
Thank you so much for coming.
- Thanks for inviting me. - It's a pleasure.
- It's such a lovely party. - Everyone is talking about your new ventures.
You have such a great nose for business.
Bruno!
Have you been introduced to my husband?
Come and tell Mrs. ...
Green.
How delighted we are to see her.
And to think we've all been praying for a good bookshop in our little town.
Haven't we, Bruno?
Of course, my dear. There's no harm in praying.
Things would probably go much better if we all prayed more.
Just one thing, Ms. Green, and a very small one at that,
You haven't actually moved into the Old House, have you?
Yes, I have been there over a week.
But there's no water.
Sam Wilkins connected the pipes for me.
Don't forget, Violet, you've been in London a good deal lately,
and you haven't been able to control everything.
Why shouldn't I have moved in?
I believe I can spare you many disappointments
and maybe even a bit of money.
In fact, I hope to help you.
There are much more appropriate locations in Hardborough.
Especially for a bookshop.
I'm afraid we are all so used to seeing the Old House empty,
that we've procrastinated year after year.
You've practically showed us all by being in such a hurry, Mrs. Green.
But the fact is...
Many of us are not at all convinced
by the sudden transformation of the Old House into a shop.
Many of us believe it should be a kind of...
local art centre.
Fine, Violet, you could pray for that also.
Chamber music in summer, lectures in winter...
There is simply no other old house
that has that...
ambience.
I've been negotiating the sale for over six months, so...
You see, it's hard for me to believe there's anyone left in Hardborough
who doesn't know about it.
In fact, I'm sure they all know.
We have one great advantage.
It would be a shame to just...
throw it away.
Now we have exactly the right person
to take charge of the matter, I mean to take charge of the centre.
You do understand, don't you?
Why don't you think it over for a bit?
Sonia!
How wonderful!
Her feet and head ached,
and she regretted having taken the seamstress' advice
as to the colour of her dress.
That was all.
Not for one moment did she think about the consequences
that her modest act of inhabiting the Old House would bring upon her.
You look radiant.
Isn't that that Lord Gosfield?
What a guest list this evening, Violet!
Lord Gosfield.
How difficult it has been to try and reach you this evening..
I hope Bruno has told you
about our new Hardborough centre for music and the arts.
We were just talking about it.
Mrs. Green!
Hi.
- Good Morning. - Glad I caught you.
- How are you? - Very well thanks. Very well.
I wanted to ask you about my shop.
I wanted to speak to you about my shop.
- It's up for auction. - Yes.
Not until April, it could be later still.
Well, the fact is...
I'd much prefer to reach a private agreement before.
As you've expressed a certain interest in the property,
and since you're not going to remain in the Old House...
I trust that you appreciate that I am too busy
to pay attention to the rumours that I hear.
Well, it stands to reason you'll be making an offer on the premises.
There's been a misunderstanding, Mr. Deben, but...
Yes, but it doesn't matter in the slightest. And I...
I should like to be able to help you.
Mrs. Gamart was...
kind enough to tell me about her idea for an art centre.
From which I am sure everyone of us living here in Hardborough would benefit.
And I believe she is the one who is searching about for premises.
And what could be better than your fish shop?
Yes, I see.
You've been extremely kind.
- Thank you for your help. - You're welcome, Mr. Deben.
- Good Morning. - Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Green.
Florence had managed to live life thus far
by pretending that human beings were not divided
into exterminators and exterminated,
with the former at any moment predominating.
I didn't know if you'd be down in London or...
London? No, I'm here. Well, I think I am.
Nescaf�?
I've never tried it.
I have heard of it, but I...
I'm told it's not made with boiling water.
Yes.
- This is all much too small for you. - I know.
You know, I'm glad that you've dropped in.
No one else compels me to face the truth.
Well, that's fortunate because I've come to ask you a question.
When Mrs. Gamart was talking at her party
about the ideal person to run an art centre,
it was you, of course, that she had in mind, wasn't it?
It wasn't me.
Sorry, Violet's party?
Did she expect me just to move out of my house and probably, for that matter, out of the town altogether,
assuming that you would come to the Old House to...
manage everything?
If she'd been referring to me, I doubt very much she would have used the word "manage".
Do you fancy Nescaf� or...
not?
No. Neither, thank you.
- Are you sure? - Yes.
- Do you mind if I...? - No, no, please.
I should probably get going.
Are you...Really?
Yes. Thank you anyway.
Well...it's lovely to see you.
Well, from what I've heard, and practically by chance,
you've started to think twice about the whole bookshop operation.
Well, then you've heard wrong, Mr. Thornton.
I am here to demand that all unresolved matters be resolved as quickly as possible
so that I might set up the bookshop without further delay.
- But I was told that you... - What?
That I'd be leaving the Old House, which, by the way, is my only home?
There are many other vacant properties in Hardborough.
As it happens, I have a list of some of the more out-of-the-way ones.
I expect no further delays, Mr. Thornton. Please have all pending papers sent to me.
And, once again, I am ever so grateful for your help!
Is there something I can help you with, boys?
We are sea scouts, ma'am.
Yes, I see. And just what is it that you're doing here?
Mr. Raven told us to stop around. What would you like us to do?
I want all the book shelves put up in there. Do you think you can manage that?
How many hand drills can you get us, ma'am?
You've all been waiting here in the pouring rain.
If I can find my keys...
Okay, hurry up.
When Ms. Green opened the first box of books she had ordered,
all the problems and obstacles of those past few days
simply vanished.
With each edition, the faces and the words of Mrs. Gamart,
the banker,
her lawyer,
and Milo North,
all faded away.
And, for a moment, she felt that her late husband,
whom she had loved so dearly,
was with her once again.
And that was her happiest moment in the bookshop.
A very lonely job, yours.
Sorry about the waders.
I don't feel in the least bit lonely.
That shelf over there is a fifth of an inch crooked.
And that plastering. It looks hideous.
You can let them know the next time you see them.
No, no, it all looks wonderful, Mr. Raven.
I couldn't be happier with the work the boys have done. Honestly.
Is that you, Wally? Are your ears burning?
- What are you doing here, boy? - I have a message for Mrs. Green.
- From whom? - From Mr. Brundish, Mr. Raven.
What?!
He just came out of Holt House and handed you a note?
No, he leaned out of the window and told me to go and get this to Mrs. Green.
I don't see how this can be for me.
I've never spoken to Mr. Brundish - ever. I can't believe he even knows my name.
And whenever I run into him on the headland,
he always goes off like a shot as if he'd just seen a ghost.
I'm certain he knows who you are.
He finds out about everything that happens in town. I don't know how he does it.
Don't you worry about the envelopes' black edges.
He ordered those those envelopes back in 1919 when they were all returning from the First War and...
and Mrs. Brundish died...
during their honeymoon.
Oh yes. How did she die?
She was drowned...
crossing the marshes.
She'd gone to pick some blackberries to bake a pie for Mr. Brundish.
"Dear Madam".
I would like to wish you well.
Back in my great-grandfather's day, there was a bookseller in the high street,
who, if my memory serves me correctly,
knocked up one of his customers with a desk pad
when he became annoying.
There'd been some delay
in the arrival of the latest installment of a new novel - I believe...
I believe it was Dombey and Son.
As of that day, no one has plucked up courage enough
to sell books in this forsaken corner of the world.
This is a great honour you do us.
I should undoubtedly visit your shop one day if I ever went out.
But nowadays I rather make a point of never doing this.
In spite of everything, should you deem some literary novelty worthy
please, don't hesitate to send it to me.
In the case of biographies, it's better, I find,
if they're about good people, - whereas novels
are much more interesting if they're about nasty people.
Please have the same boy who delivered this letter bring them to me
with a note, obviously, indicating their price.
Yours...
Respectfully..."
"Edmund Brundish."
My first customer.
Come around later and I'll give you a package for Mr. Brundish.
Thank you, Mrs. Green.
You'll probably need a bright young helper in the afternoon, in case it gets busy.
I was thinking of one of the Gipping girls.
Mrs. Gipping is more or less up to date on the matter,
and I thought about asking her which of her daughters might suit you the best.
I think the youngest, Christine, is the cleverest,
but she probably wouldn't give her out to you for that precise reason.
- Good afternoon, Mr. Thornton. Welcome! - Thank you.
Fahrenheit 451.
What kind of book is this?
You're Christine Gipping, aren't you?
I would have thought your older sister would...
My elder sister spends all her time with Charlie Cuts.
In fact, on my way over here,
I saw their bikes hidden under fallen leaves over by the crossroads.
You won't have any trouble like that with me, though.
Those things aren't happening to me yet.
And I find boys to be repulsive.
And what about your other sister?
She spends all her time at home minding Margaret and Peter.
They're the little ones.
You musn't think I don't want to consider you for the job,
it's just that you don't really look old enough.
Or strong enough.
That's hard to say after a first glance.
You look old, but you don't look strong.
It's all the same anyway, we're all available.
But my older sister will be absent from work half the time,
and the middle one won't show up.
Just a warning.
And I should also let you know I don't like reading. I like geography and maths.
I'll come round this afternoon and discuss things with your mother.
And don't worry, I won't force you to read.
As you wish.
All she'll say is that I can work every day after school
and all day Saturday.
And you can't pay me less than 12 shillings and six pence a week.
And to tell me to shut up if I speak too much
What about your homework?
I can do that when I get home, after tea.
I like your cardigan.
Did you knit it yourself? It looks like it would've been very difficult.
It was in the magazine Women's Issue
But the instructions were for short sleeves.
You have no children, Mrs. Green?
No.
Should I have?
I don't know.
People always say life's passed by women who have no children.
There aren't enough cards on display.
Shall I put some more out?
They really should be ordered into romance and nature or something.
- Is this what you call romance? - Oh my God!
What are these?
I hadn't even seen them before.
Those sales reps really don't know what they're sending you.
We've got to throw them away.
I'm sure there's a few people in this village who wouldn't mind getting these in their letterbox.
You're right.
Stop looking at them! You'll be corrupted.
- Where is the bin? - Don't throw them in the bin!
Come on, have a cup of tea.
Why is Christine so late?
She's been working for this lady.
Why?
Because he has a shop full of books for people to read.
Why?
I don't know.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Gipping.
Come in, Mrs. Green.
Let's have a talk.
I'm not sure if Christine has already spoken to you about the 12 shillings.
Yes, yes, she did.
Dear Madam, spare yourself the trouble of sending more books of poetry
or spuriously complicated novels.
Please, at your earliest convenience, send more books by Ray Bradbury.
Yours Respectfully, Edmund Brundish.
Very soon Mrs. Green's business began to thrive.
Her days were fully occupied from morning to night.
For a short time she forgot about everything concerning Mrs. Gamart
and her plans to turn the Old House into an art centre.
- Good morning, Mrs. Green. - Hello, Wally.
Thanks you for doing me this favour. Here you are.
Would you like to come on an outing, Christine?
I can't. We've got new stock arriving tomorrow.
Okay then.
Goodbye.
Wouldn't you like to go on an outing?
No. I like Wally, but...
Yes, I know, you did tell me you find boys repulsive.
But believe me...
You'll get over it.
Yes, I suppose.
It's just... I prefer to be here,
in the bookshop with you.
It's fun working here.
Even if I don't like reading.
Mrs. Green, they're dirtying the cards.
Just let them browse. It's part of the tradition of a bookshop.
Yes, but they leave everything in such a mess and don't buy anything.
Miss?
Florence.
Mr. North. What a surprise!
It seems Violet isn't going to get her own way.
- Has she stopped by you yet? - We haven't been open very long.
She will. She'll appear eventually.
She has far too much self-respect not to.
I'm sure she is simply dying of curiosity.
- She'll be quite welcome. - Are you making any money yet?
- Not yet. - You really need something like this.
This is volume one.
Is there a volume two?
Yes, but I have lent it to someone, or left it somewhere.
You should keep them together as a set.
Lolita
Have you read it? Is it any good?
It will make you rich, Florence.
Yes, but is it good? I only stock good novels.
They don't move fast, you know.
According to Graham Greene it is a masterpiece.
Although there are those who think otherwise.
Thank you for suggesting it.
I sometimes feel the need of good advice. You're very kind.
You're always making that mistake.
Until next time.
We have the blue one at home. It has Westminster Abbey on it,
but it goes all the way around the tin.
I'll put the heat on.
Mum says those paraffin heaters aren't very safe.
They're not dangerous, as long as you remember to clean them out properly.
And you don't pour the liquid in from both sides at once.
You must never do that - ever! Do you hear me?
I like this old tray. You can leave it to me in your will.
What?!
I don't think I'm ready to start thinking about my will just yet.
But when I do, I'll try to remember that.
You will? Are you sure?
Is the tray from Japan?
No, it's...
Chinese lacquer.
My grandfather brought it back from Nanking.
He was a great traveller.
I don't think they even make lacquer like this in China anymore.
Thank you.
I was wondering if you'd like me to help you with your schoolwork or something.
- We could read things together maybe... - There's nothing to read.
They give you some pictures and say which one's the odd one out.
Or they give you some numbers like...
8, 5, 11, 9, 22, and 16,
and you have to say which one comes next.
I wouldn't begin to know which one came next.
You're not cold, are you?
No.
That Milo is a ferret.
He smiles just like a ferret. I wish he'd just go to hell.
Stop it, Christine!
You're too nice. He's a nasty piece of work.
When I'm older, I'm going to try to be like him.
It's much more practical.
I know you don't like reading,
but there's a book I'm afraid you must read.
What's it about?
It's about good pirates and evil children.
Promise me that you'll just at least just open it one day.
Well, if you'll let me have the Chinese tray in your will.
I can try.
Deal.
Dear Mr. Brundish.
Enclosed you will find a copy of a novel that has just been published. Lolita.
I must confess my bewilderment with it.
I'd like to know your sincere opinion of it, and ask for a bit of advice.
Do you think it's a suitable book to be sold in my bookshop?
Yours sincerely, Florence Green.
PS. If you don't like the book, there's no need to pay for it.
Hello, Mrs. Gipping. Is everything alright?
I thought you should know as soon as possible.
Mr. Brundish has asked me
to deliver my fruitcake on Sunday.
And he's also asked me to ask you
if you'd like to stop by the Holt House for tea that same afternoon.
This Sunday?
Why yes.
Yes, yes, allright...
Yes, I'll send him a note. Thank you for the message, Mrs. Gipping.
I've never delivered a cake to Mr. Brundish before.
I hope this doesn't become a habit.
Mrs. Green, is it true you're having tea at Holt House this Sunday?
Yes, Mrs. Keble, it is true.
Is there something I should know before I go there?
Mrs. Green.
Mrs. Deben. How is Mr. Deben?
Still having trouble finding a buyer for the fish shop, I gather.
Poor thing.
I bet the General and Mrs. Gamart are seething about the matter.
They've never been invited to Holt House, you know.
Yes, I've heard.
So, Holt House for tea, eh?!
He so jealously guards his privacy
after the tragic death of his beloved wife.
I sent him some books and...
asked for advice about the bookshop.
Don't you know!
Well, I should get back there, I suppose.
- It's tipping down there. - Cats and dogs!
- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.
Advice for the bookshop!
Hello?
Mr. Brundish?
Come into the dining room.
You asked me a question.
Yes, I did it.
About a new novel.
You were thoughtful enough to ask me a serious question,
thinking I would be impartial.
You undoubtedly thought I was quite alone in the world.
Never. I did not for one second...
I imagine you have been told all kinds of things about me.
All bad.
No.
Really.
I am a widower, I'm sure you've been told. I imagine you've also been told
that my wife died whilst gathering blackberries to make me a pie,
which is the latetst version going around town.
Well...
none that have been circulating are true.
- She didn't drown? - No.
In the sixth month of our marriage,
we both - having been the best of friends -
decided that a friendly separation would be for the best.
She lives in London.
I haven't seen her for 45 years, but according to my information
she's still in very good health.
Although, apparently...
she's put on quite a lot of weight.
She always loved sweets.
Although I can never remember her baking a cake in her life.
I suppose for people of Hardborough it's more picturesque
to imagine Holt House inhabited by a mourning widower.
As you already know, Literature has done a lot of damage.
Those damned Bront� sisters, for example,
by whom you have not included a single copy
in those packages to me, for which I am ever so grateful.
I imagined you would have read them already.
One of the Gipping girls, the third one,
lends you a hand in your shop, I believe.
And that is all the assistance you have at your disposal?
I have a bookkeeper who comes in from time to time,
and then there's my solicitor.
Tom Thornton. You won't get very far with that one.
I can't say I'm very fond of Mr. Thornton.
You know, Mr. Brundish,
there is a certain responsibility about trying to run a bookshop.
I magine there is.
Especially if not everyone approves of it.
There are certain people
who are rather put up by your bookshop.
Mrs. Green, I refer to Violet Gamart,
who had other plans for the Old House,
and who now, it seems, has taken further offenses only.
I'm sure that she...
means well.
Means well? Violet Gamart?!
That harpy?
What she wants isn't...
arts centre.
Now, I ask you, what the hell does this damn village need with an arts centre?
And how could art have a center?
But she's got it into her head that it does, and that's the reason she wants to get rid of you.
And she won't stop...
until she does.
She can't do that.
It's my bookshop. It's my home.
People like Violet Gamart
have made me what I am, Mrs. Green.
Thanks to her connections and acquaintances,
Mrs. Gamart is a very powerful woman. Does that not concern you?
No.
May I get back to the reason for my visit?
I'm thinking of making a first order of Lolita
of 250 copies, which would be a considerable risk.
Of course, I'm not consulting you in a business sense. That would be quite wrong.
All I want to know, before I put in the order,
is whether you think it's a good book
and whether you that it is right that I should sell it in Hardborough.
I do not attach as much importance as you do, I dare say,
to the notions of right and wrong.
I have read Lolita, as you asked me to.
It is a good book,
and therefore I think you should try and sell it to the people of Hardborough.
They won't understand it, but that's all for the best.
Understanding makes the mind lazy.
Thank you.
Thank you, Mr. Brundish.
Well, I have given you my opinion.
Let me tell you what it is I admire
about human beings.
What I value most
it is the one virtue they share with gods and animals,
and which I will therefore no longer refer to as a virtue.
I mean...
courage.
And you, Mrs. Green...
possess that quality in abundance.
I would like...
I would like to help.
You make me believe,...
once more, in things...
Things I thought forgotten.
Thank you for the tea, Mr. Brundish. Everything was delicious.
Well, please...
come again when you wish.
And good luck with Lolita.
Yes, thank you..
I musn't let myself worry. "Where there is life, there is hope."
God! What a horrifying thought.
Yes!
Thank you...
for your advice, Mr. Brundish.
My pleasure.
Do you think Dandelion Wine will be coming soon?
I must say I can't thank you enough
for introducing me to Ray Bradbury.
We'll have Wally bring it round.
Or, maybe, I'll bring it ...
to you.
Well...
I would like that very much.
We've never had so many of the same one before.
Such a long one!
This book is already famous, Christine. Everybody's heard of it.
Though I don't suppose they ever expected they'd be able to buy it here in Hardborough.
What they won't expect is to find 250 copies!
You've really lost your head over this one.
THE NOVEL THAT IS SHOCKING THE WORLD
"September 4, 1959."
"Dear Mrs. Green,"
I have in my possession a letter from John Drury & Co.,
legal representative of Mrs. Violet Gamart of The Stead,
to the effect that the current state of your window display
is attracting rather undesirable attention
from both potential and actual customers.
Their client likewise assures
that she feels personally affronted
by the fact that she, in her position as justice of the peace
and chairman of numerous committees (list enclosed herewith),
must carry out her shopping expeditiously.
Dear Mr. Thornton,
You have been my solicitor now for several years, which allows me to infer that 'acting for me'
means 'acting energetically on my behalf'.
Have you even seen the window display for yourself?
"Dear Mrs. Green,
In response to your missive September 5,
I have attempted on two occasions to approach your shop window,
but found it impossible."
- Understood? - Yes, Mrs. Green.
"Dear Mr. Thornton.
What exactly is your advice then?
Yours truly, Florence Green."
"I think we should eliminate the agglomerations,
stop your customers from assembling in the narrowest part of the high street,
before any formal complaint is made.
And I also think we should put an end
to the sale of this banal and sensationalistic novel by V. Nabokov,
that has given rise to so many complaints."
"Dear Mr. Thornton,
A good book is the precious distillation of a master spirit
embalmed and preserved for the purpose of achieving a life beyond life,
which is why it is, undoubtedly, a necessary commodity.
Yours sincerely, Florence Green. "
"Dear Madam,
With regard to your request for an express prohibition
concerning Mrs. Florence Green...
we regret to inform you
We regret to inform you that, after having been duly advised,
it would be best to drop this matter,
as the reported crowd seem to have been curbed by the local police.
My deepest, deepest apologies, Mrs. Gamart. "
Why won't you come to London?
I can't think of anything worse than living in London.
You know how I feel about people.
Look at this, look at this, this is absolutely stunning!
I'm not staying here!
What do you mean you're not staying? Where are you going?
Oh for goodness sake! You have to just keep storming off...
I've told you...
I'm sick of people like Violet!
- What? - I can't take it anymore, Milo!
Wait. Just be careful, otherwise you're going to slip!
Hold on. Wait!
What on earth are you doing sitting there, Florence?
I do not know why I go for walks, it looks like a pensioner.
- And I should get to work. - Is there room on that step for me?
- Yes. - I'm Kattie, Mrs. Green.
Milo has told me so much about you.
Kattie wouldn't believe there were any nice spots in Hardborough,
so I brought her out here to see for herself.
And what is is that you do at the BBC, Kattie?
I work for the RPD. Recorded Programmes Department.
Monitoring expenses... It's not exactly exciting.
We've just been for lunch with Violet Gamart.
Gave her a chance to not disapprove of us.
Mrs. Gamart is very kind.
Well, not really.
I don't like kind people.
Except for Florence.
Don't flatter me.
I get the feeling you work less and less every day.
Don't forget the BBC is a corporation,
and your salary is paid for with public funding.
Kattie deals with that. She's in charge of my expenses sheet.
Are not you cold, my darling?
Perhaps this time we ought to quibble off back to our humble abode,
and leave Florence alone, lost in her thoughts.
I think I'll stay here a little longer.
- As long as I'm not bothering you. - No, not at all.
Milo told me you're a widow.
Yes, yes, I am.
'A widow.'
Such a strange, dark word, don't you think?
My husband died...
16 years ago.
How did you meet?
We met in a bookshop actually. In London.
We were in love from the first moment.
We had to organize the...
organize and classify the poetry section together at Muller's.
He used to read aloud to me every night.
Pepys, and George Eliot, and Thackeray...
"Never give a lady a restive horse".
We loved that one!
We were very happy...
busy doing a million things and nothing.
And then the war came.
But I still have his letters, all his letters, and I...
I can still...
hear his voice in my head when I read them.
Milo didn't do you justice when he described you to me.
Oh dear, spare me from Milo's appraisal.
I don't think I want to know what he thinks of me.
I still don't know what he thinks of me.
Or if he feels something for me.
Or, for that matter, if he feels anything at all.
I guess that's part of his thing...
keeping you guessing all the time.
You know what they say,
"With that kind of man you never know whether he's hiding a rich inner world or...
absolutely nothing".
He'll never read aloud to me.
Aunt Vi!
So, your bill is already having its third reading. Excellent!
And I have you to thank for all your inspiration, Aunt Vi.
Whatever do you mean?
The idea came to me during your party last spring.
Your wonderful campaign in favour of an arts centre
could become a reality with a bill like this.
And other communities could benefit as well from...
philanthropists such as yourself.
Well, I've only done what I felt was right.
The Access to Places of Public Value Bill
will make sure the town councils can acquire their historic properties
by compulsory purchase for public use.
Isn't it wonderful?
I'm sure your father is smiling down on us from heaven with great pride at this very moment.
And I'm just so glad we arranged to meet today of all days.
Precisely when the bill has been approved.
Do you fancy fish for lunch?
I know a wonderful place around the corner.
I'm afraid living in Hardborough puts you off eating fish anywhere else.
It's so fresh down there.
So true.
A spot of tea then?
Perfect!
Then I shall continue with what I was doing.
I have a sick friend who needs my attention.
You're such a wonderful, generous woman, Aunt Vi.
Carry on with your work. Heads down.
Eyes down. On with your work!
No need to get up, children.
I'm the inspector.
No, you're not!
I'm sorry, I don't think I know you.
Mrs. Traill?
My name is Sheppard.
If you'd be so kind, you may examine my certificate from the Ministry of Education Authority.
It authorizes me, under the Shops Act of 1950,
to visit any school
where I have cause to believe that there are children studying
who also engage in some sort of work.
Work?! I can assure you they'd all love to have a job.
Outside of family businesses and newspaper deliveries,
you tell me what else awaits them out there?
And by the way...
I don't remember you ever visiting here before.
Well, due to staff shortages,
our visits are not quite as frequent as we would like them to be.
So, who suggested you come this time?
There is only one who has a steady job after school.
Christine Gipping who works regularly.
Where?
The Old House Bookshop.
Stand up, Christine.
If you'll excuse me.
- This is the girl. - Miss, would you mind coming with me!
- Good day. - Good day.
I don't want you to think I hold anything against you.
The law is the law. That's something I came to say.
Experience is important.
The job also says they want her to have experience, but where can we get it?
But we always tell Christine that if she needs references,
she only has to come to you.
Yes, of course. All she has to do is ask.
Christine is a wonderful girl, Mrs. Gipping, and...
I'm very, very fond of her.
But now she'll have an opportunity to concentrate on her studies.
But she doesn't want to give up earning money.
No, of course not, but I suppose after what happened at the school...
Well, we've been looking round a bit.
And we hope they'll be hiring her to work Saturdays at that new bookshop.
New bookshop?
Yes, they will open very soon. You know. In Deben's.
The fish shop.
I had no idea.
You really must keep an eye on the competition, Mrs. Green.
You will give Christine those references, won't you?
She had no way of knowing this,
but the new bookshop was not an enterprise like her own,
but an investment by the simple-minded Lord Gosfield
on the advice of the General and Mrs. Gamart.
- Thank you for coming, Mrs. Green. - No need to thank me, Mr. Keble.
Do you realize how very little working capital you have at the moment?
Yes. It's rather difficult not to notice.
I daresay things have taken quite a dip in your business of late, haven't they?
I thought you might like to know there's a possible buyer for your shop.
Thank you very much.
Mr. Keble...
The shop is not for sale.
Message received.
Thank you for coming.
It has been an incalculable help.
Well...
I really shall miss you.
I don't want to go, you know.
I don't want to work in that other bookshop.
My mother, she simply doesn't understand...
No, please. You musn't worry about that.
How can I not worry?
You can't manage this place by yourself.
And no one in this village will help you.
I shall manage, I absolutely... I shall manage.
I do hope you'll come by. From time to time. In the evenings...
I won't have the time.
Yes. No.
No, of course you'll be busy.
I've got something for you.
Now you won't have to wait until my funeral.
You're so kind, Mrs. Green.
You're so bloody kind!
Good afternoon, Florence. Mrs. Green.
Mr. Brundish.
How are things coming along down there?
I think you know as well as I do, don't you?
I do know some of it.
What do you intend to do?
Do?
The only thing I can do.
Yes.
No!
Carry on.
That's what I was going to do.
Florence...
I would very much like to have met you at another time in my life.
In another life altogether.
But I'm going to do what...
small thing is in my power to help you.
Mr. Brundish, it's ...
It's very warming to hear, and...
I so appreciate it.
You musn't...
There is nothing you...
I will have a word with her. I will talk to that woman.
She might just listen, she might...
put an end to this loathesome harrassment.
You'd really do that?
Really?
Come out of your seclusion for me?
Indeed I will.
I don't know that it should be of much use, but I'm willing.
I could just put a bullet through her, but...
I'm not sure that would be to your liking.
I don't know how to ever thank you, that's...
That's the most...
noble gesture anyone has ever made for me.
You work too hard, Florence.
I try to concentrate.
Please put those down. They've only just come in. I haven't checked them yet.
Surely you have to succeed if you give everything you have.
I can't see why.
Everyone gives everything they have eventually.
We all die. Dying is hardly a success.
Too young to bother about dying.
I believe Kattie might snuff it..
- She wastes so much energy. - How is Kattie?
No idea.
As a matter of fact, she's left me.
She's... well, she's gone to live with someone else.
In Wantage.
She's... you know...
He works in the World Service.
I'm opening my heart to you.
We're having a special moment, aren't we?
I expect you have told everyone in Hardborough who'll listen to you.
Yes, but it affects you particularly
because I'll have so much more free time as of now.
I'll be able to work here, part-time, as your assistant.
I guess you must miss that little girl.
Christine learned a great deal when she was here,
and he was extremely nice with the customers.
Not as nice as I can be.
So...
How much can you pay me?
I gave Christine 12 shillings and 6 pence a week.
I won't be able to offer any more than that at the moment.
If you are interested in the job, you may come by in the afternoons
for a few weeks and try it out.
Trial period!
But please remember I didn't offer you the job. You asked yourself.
Has anyone ever told you you have a marvellous pair of ankles?
Oh, do shut up!
Go home!
OPEN
CLOSED
"Shower down thy love, o burning bright"
For one night or the other night will come the gardener in white
and gathered flowers are dead."
Christine!
You'd better watch out, Mr. North.
What unpleasant expressions they teach you in that school!
I didn't come her to see people of...
your sort.
Why...?
Why are you not helping Ms. Green anymore?
She misses you.
She's got you, hasn't she? You're always in and out.
They say they won't let her keep the bookshop.
- They say? Who say? You say? - You know very well who.
- They have other plans for the Old House. - Why do you even care, you little shrimp?
They say she can't keep it.
She'll go after her. She'll take her to court.
She'll just swear to tell the truth.
The whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Well, we must hope that it doesn't come to that.
I never had the time to sit around when I was her assistant.
No wonder! You're a child...
or a woman.
Neither of them have any idea of how to relax.
You'd just better watch out!
I've come to get this. It belongs to my mum.
Thank you.
Give me a moment.
What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Brundish.
Please, have a seat.
Thank you.
I have come to ask you something.
I don't know if if this is the proper way to do so,
but I can't think of a better one.
If you are not in the mood for questions, you should say so now.
Would you like some tea?
I don't want your tea.
I want you to leave Florence Green alone.
- Did she ask you to come and see me? - Certainly not.
She is simply a woman who wants to keep a bookshop.
If Ms. Green has reason to complain, I suppose we should turn to a solicitor.
Though I believe she's rather given to changing her legal advice.
The bookstore is drafty, impossible to mortgage a second time,
and from what I've heard: damp!
Leave her alone. The woman has done nothing to you.
Has is not occured to you, as someone who must be extremely concerned
about the welfare and future of this place,
that a building of such historical interest could be put to a better use.
Old age is not the same thing as historical interest.
Otherwise you and I would be far more interesting than we are.
I repeat, I want you to leave my friend Florence Green alone!
Alone!
Well, it appears your friend has failed to take the law into consideration.
Something which I've observed on several occasions.
If that is the case, I can have nothing to say in the matter.
The law will have to take its course.
Are you referring to a law that didn't exist a year ago
and that parliament approved behind our backs?
I'm talking about an order for compulsory purchase,
or an eviction, which is the proper term.
Did you put your precious nephew up to drafting that bill?
I won't deny my nephew's bill may affect the bookshop,
as it is essential the premises must have remained empty for five years.
That would undoubtedly apply to the Old House.
But there are so many regulations to be considered, Mr. Brundish.
Ordinary mortals like myself and of course like you
would hardly know where to begin.
I am in politics,
and, subsequently, I'm fairly familiar with bureaucracy,
but this goes way beyond me.
We wouldn't even know how to find the right person to write to.
Madam, I know perfectly well who to write to.
Over the past years, if I'd not made it my business to know,
I would have lost several hundred acres of marshes,
and farming land, and two pumping mills.
That's why I'm certain that if nothing has been done so far,
we can still form a common front against them.
We can certainly think of ways of making the move easier
if it is actually made.
There are still plenty of other places to let
in larger towns than Hardborough.
That's not what I'm talking about!
You should be talking about what I'm talking about.
I wish I could do something more.
I assume then that you intend to do nothing.
You mustn't speak to me that way, Mr. Brundish.
You don't realize what you are saying.
You seem to think I'm an outrageous person.
Is that it?
I can't answer that question "yes" or "no".
I suspect that by "outrageous" you mean "unexpectedly offensive",
and the truth is you have been fairly offensive, but also...
repulsive, Mrs. Gamart.
That is, you have behaved exactly as I expected.
Good afternoon, General.
You wouldn't like a book, would you?
Not exactly.
I just came to say:
"A good man has left us."
I believe you knew Edmund Brundish quite well, did you not?
I feel as though I did.
I never crossed words with him at all.
He was in the First Mess, of course...
but not in the Suffolks.
He signed up for the Air Force, I believe.
He wanted to fly.
How odd.
It was also odd that he came to see us that very morning.
I wanted to speak to your wife, I imagine.
Yes, you're quite right.
Violet told me all about it.
He made a great effort to go see her...
to congratulate her on her idea.
I'm referring to the Arts Centre.
I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to speak to him.
I must say I would never have imagined him
being interested in art.
But well...
A good man has left us.
Anyone could suffer an attack like that
if you think about it.
You musn't be late to your lunch party, General.
Leave my house and don't ever come back.
And please...
don't you or your wife ever again malign
a man who had more dignity...
sensitivity...
and compassion than either of you will have in your time.
Don't ever say his name again.
And forget mine.
But she...
Violet...
LEAVE!
So it seems I have been evicted by the city of Flintmarket.
As we mentioned during our last phone conversation,
it seems there's a new parliament bill which allows Flintmarket Council
to take over ownership of the Old House.
Yes.
And I should like to know, if I may,
where the Council obtained the funds necessary to throw me out?
They apparently found a benefactor.
What concerns me is if the Old House is considered to be habitable or not.
If it turns out that it is unfit for human habitation,
or indeed subsidence is threatened, then it will be impossible to demand compensation.
You won't see a penny.
I'm inhabiting it and I'm still human.
It's not even as damp as all that.
In the summer it's really quite dry and in mid-winter...
Here is an inspection of the cellars,
according to which the property is standing in half an inch of water.
Sorry, what inspection?
I wasn't informed of any inspection, I don't think.
Apparently, on several occasions, when you were absent from the property,
an expert in masonry and plastering, a Mr. John Gipping,
was sent by the Council
to inspect the condition of the walls and the cellars.
John Gipping? Christine's father?
We assume he entered peaceably.
I don't remember letting him in myself.
Your assistant, Mr. Milo North...
Everyone assumed he acted as your servant
and was following your instructions.
Have you any comments?
What leaves us in a difficult position
is the fact that Mr. North has also signed a statement,
according to which the level of dampness in the property has affected his health,
making him unable to accept any type of ordinary employment.
Why?
There is no why.
They asked me persistently, so you know...
I simply thought I'd better do it.
If you're looking for a new assistant, I believe Christine is available.
She's no longer working at the new bookshop.
She tried to sell Lolita to the vicar.
Florence!
Mrs. Green! Mrs. Green!
- Christine. - Mrs. Green.
Mrs. Green.
Goodbye.
For years to come,
I will remember how she tried to smile looking at the book I had in my hands.
Then, she realized
what I had done.
She had fulfilled the dream,
and they'd snatched it away from her.
But what she possessed deep down
was something no one could ever take away from her.
Her courage.
And it was that courage and her passion for books
that she bequeathed to me,
along with the Chinese lacquered tray.
How right she was when she said
that no one ever feels alone
in a bookshop.
Subtitles by Asohuke for SubVersion