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All the Little Animals 1998

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Man: It's funny...
I can see my old self quite clearly.
Remembering how I felt
is much, much harder.
Sometimes feelings come back to me
when I'm digging.
or in a dream.
But mostly, he's gone.
That earlier me...
could hardly do anything,
even think anything.
I mean, I could--
I could read a bit.
And I could write a bit.
I could talk...
but hardly ever did.
That was it, really.
Everything began on that day.
That was the morning I woke up after my fox dream
and knew deep down that The Fat had killed my mother.
I don't mean that he'd murdered her or anything,
but he killed her just the same.
He shouted her to death.
I used to hear him shouting when I was in bed at night.
When my mother married The Fat, she was pretty. Beautiful, really.
But afterward, she got thinner and thinner
until she just died.
He killed her all right.
Hello.
Good morning, Peter.
Hello. Peter!
Hello, Peter.
Hmm?
You're beautiful,
little mouse.
Here we go.
Magic.
Aye.
Eat some crumbs.
Here you go. You're magic.
Are you? Are you magic?
If you're magic, you could make wished come true, couldn't you?
I know what I would wish for.
I would wish that I lived in a magic kingdom.
You could be king and I'll be son of...
God.
Like that? Would you?
Man #2: You out back, Bobby?
Bobby had a little King.
King was white as snow.
Everywhere that Bobby went,
King would surely go.
We're in good shape, are we? For Mommy's funeral?
I got your suit.
He said I was to hang around while you got changed.
Got a ton of jobs to do as well, before we go.
Are you coming?
You hardly knew my mother.
Here, look.
Got you these.
Might cheer you up a bit, later on.
Thanks, Dean.
Man: Move, boy, go on.
Priest: For as much as it has pleased Almighty God,
in His great mercy, to take unto Himself
the soul of our dear sister here departed,
we therefore commit her body to the ground,
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
in the sure and certain hope of resurrection
to eternal life, through our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
( giggling )
Go on, Bobby, open it.
Go on, go on.
Happy birthday, darling.
Happy birthday.
Bobby: My mom met The Fat
at a time when she was very worried about the store.
Business was bad, but then she gave The Fat an important job there,
and after that, things got a lot better again.
We used to go there about once a week and visit all the departments.
I'd say hello to everybody and they'd smile and say hello back.
I saw the store that day, from the car.
I saw the name PLATTS in big red letters above the door.
My mother's name.
My name.
Our store.
The most important thing about me is that when I was little,
I was knocked down by a car.
l hurt my head badly.
I haven't really been well ever since.
( door opens )
( door closes )
Aye, get up, Bobby.
My God, look at the state. Come on.
Sorry, Bobby. He wants to see you now, in the study.
My God.
You look like my granny in a coma.
Here, blue one will get you going.
Come on.
Now, come on!
Wake up. Move!
Come in.
Bobby.
How are you?
The funeral was quite lovely, I thought.
It might interest you to know
that I have been giving some thought to the future.
Your future.
I want to see Dr. Forrest.
I don't like Dr. Clarke.
Bobby doesn't like Dr. Clarke?
He'll make me take pills.
Does this mean Bobby likes Dr. Forrest?
He doesn't make me take pills. He talks to me.
Therapy?
Hmm. That's a joke.
Look at you.
Years of talk and no improvement whatsoever.
Poor, poor Bobby.
What's the matter?
( knocking )
Lights out. Come in.
I just want to say, Bobby,
how sorry I am about your mother.
She'll be missed. She really will.
Thank you.
Stuart, as you're here, would you mind
witnessing Bobby's signature on these documents?
- Yes, fine. - Please, sit.
Now, Bobby, can you pay attention?
I need your signature on these documents,
where I've indicated.
Stuart will witness.
No.
What do you mean, "no"?
No.
No.
No signing.
My mother said never ever-- no signing-- before she died.
- She said that. - This is nothing to concern you.
These are legal matters
relating to your welfare.
I thought that you were in my sole care?
She said no.
Look, your signature
means that you will be taken care of.
That's all.
No, she said not to. She made me promise.
Ahem.
Look, em--
Surely he doesn't have to do this today.
The funeral, and so on.
Which means it can wait for a couple of days.
I suppose it will have to.
I'll see you in the morning.
Bobby, come here. Sit down.
And what was all that about, "Bobby Booby"?
It seems I've got your mother to thank for this nonsense--
a sort of parting gesture.
You think these are something to do with the store, don't you?
What if they are?
What use would the store be to you?
Let me spell it out for you.
If you sign these papers, the right thing will be you living here with me.
Just as you have been doing.
Then again, for someone like you,
other arrangements might be called for.
I don't-- I don't understand.
Oh, Bobby,
you are not so subnormal that you don't know
there are certain special hospitals
where people like you can go
when you're too ill to be managed at home.
I'm not ill.
You can't send me to a hospital if I'm not ill.
I think I can.
With Dr. Clarke's help, I certainly can.
They'll take you.
And they'll keep you...
forever.
Think of it.
You'll rot there with all the other loonies,
until you're an old, old man.
- You can't. - Yes, I can.
But I won't have to if you're sensible.
All you need do is sign and it's "home sweet home."
I'll give you some time to think it over.
Tomorrow afternoon, precisely 4:00,
I will pick up the phone
to Dr. Clarke.
I will tell him your mother's death
has been a terrible setback for you.
And in your present state,
I can't cope with you at home.
What happens after that, I shall leave you to work out for yourself.
I can assure you...
that if your poor mother were here now,
she would be on her knees.
On her knees,
begging you to sign the store over to me.
You can go now.
Not the howling.
I hate the howling.
Get up.
Get up and get out of here now.
Peter! Peter!
Peter?
Peter! Where are you?
Peter! Peter!
( whispering ) Peter?
What's the matter, Bobby?
Nothing.
Just looking for something.
You mean, Peter?
Where is he?
I want him.
He's in a safe place.
You see, I've always known about Peter.
Give me my mouse. I want my mouse.
I've had a little talk with him.
Peter really needs your signature.
On those papers.
He understands that otherwise, you'll never see him again.
I can't.
I promised her.
It's Dr. Clarke for you.
Tomorrow.
4:00.
And this is all your fault.
I never wanted any of this to happen.
( floor squeaking )
Bobby: I left by the back gate where the rubbish lorry
comes to collect the rubbish.
Nobody noticed me. It couldn't have been easier.
I stopped to bury Peter under one of the trees
by the side of the road.
After that, I wanted to sit down on the grass to rest,
but I was afraid of The Fat.
I was afraid he would send policemen to take me back.
So I just kept going on and on through the day.
Then I walked and walked as fast as I could
until the houses got fewer and there were more trees.
First it was fun
because I had been kept indoors for so long,
but then I started to get tired.
Woman: Look, that guy's in trouble.
Hey, you all right? Are you ill?
No, I'm just tired.
Hungry.
Are you trying to get somewhere?
- Yeah, Cornwall. - Right, hitching.
Walking.
To Cornwall? You must be joking.
No.
Yeah, Eve's all right, Des, get him in.
Well, come with us in the van.
- That's Jim, the dog. - Hello.
- He's friendly, just pet him. - Hi, doggy.
Des: We're happy to give you a lift. We're travelers.
My name's Des, what's yours?
I'm Bobby.
Des: Okay, this is Glastonbury. We turn off here for Avalon.
You'll easily get a ride from here.
- Bobby: Right. - ( Jim barks )
- Thanks for the lift. - Yeah.
- See ya. Good luck. - Cheers, mate.
Bye, doggy.
Bobby: Excuse me, are you going to Cornwall?
No, sorry mate. I'm going the other way.
Excuse me, are you going to Cornwall?
No, London, mate.
You going to Cornwall?
Yeah, no problem. Hop in.
Man: You're lucky, I was just leaving.
Where's all your gear, then?
I don't need any things
'cause I'm going to stay with my grandpa.
Well, I finish at Truro.
You said you were going to Cornwall.
Truro is in Cornwall.
You got any money?
Yeah, some.
You can get us something to eat and a cup of tea at the next services.
We won't be stopping after that.
The truck has to be back in the yard by 7:00.
Bobby: Is that a rabbit's foot?
We in Cornwall yet?
Surprise, surprise, awake at last.
You were no damn use as company.
Out cold the whole way.
Look, it's a fox.
Look at that, will you?
Watch me get the bugger.
What are you doing? No! Stop it!
Get off! Get off! Get off me!
Get off me. You'll get us both killed.
Jesus, hold on.
Oh my God!
Oh shit!
( man moans weakly )
Man #2: No.
Leave him alone.
What's that you've got there?
It's a rabbit. It's dead.
You're supposed to help people when there has been an accident.
It's no use. He's beyond help.
Anyway, you only help good people.
He's not good. He killed this rabbit.
Yeah, I saw it. I was with him when he did it.
No, it was a fox. I saw a fox.
No, the fox ran clear.
This is the poor little rabbit that got in the way.
Look. Told you.
He's like the rabbit now.
Dead.
Dead.
You're supposed to bury dead people.
His own kind can do that.
I have other work.
How old are you, boy?
- I'm 24. - 24?
Not yet 18 I shouldn't wonder.
No, I'm 24.
It's not fair, everybody always thinks I'm younger, but I'm a man.
Just feel like a boy.
Why did you bury the rabbit?
'Cause it was dead, boy.
Because I wanted to.
When a creature is killed, I return it to the earth.
I consider it my work.
Your work?
Rabbits are generally thought to be
pleasing animal.
Whereas, rats, for example, are generally detested.
Both are living creatures of equal value
in nature's scheme.
When they're dead, they should be buried.
And you're supposed to bury dead people.
People? People are of no value at all
as far as I'm concerned.
Besides, they can bury each other. The animals need help.
All the men kill them.
I bury them.
I bury rabbits, rats, mice and birds.
And frogs, hedgehogs, even snails.
Where do you find so many things to bury?
Where do you think?
On the roads, boy. On the bloody roads.
The car is a killing machine, pure and simple.
I've buried so many.
Well, you must know.
You must have been in cars and felt that little bump,
that faint crunch under the wheels.
Surely you've had that moment of indecision
when some little live creature shows up in your headlight,
but you drive over anyway and forget about it.
Don't you scream blue murder
every time the body of a bird hits the precious paintwork of your car?
How many have you killed, boy? And why?
- Why? - Stop it.
I've never driven a car. I can't drive.
All right, all right, boy.
Sorry.
I didn't know.
I get a bit worked up.
Stop crying.
Please...
stop crying.
Look, let's sit down and have a cup of tea.
Come on, I know a good place.
Come on.
Can I come with you?
Come with me? Where to?
You know, where you're going.
Where you live.
To stay, is all.
To stay? No, of course not.
You can't come with me.
No, I think it's about time you went home
or wherever it was you were going.
I can't go home. I've run away.
Well, I can't take you with me.
It's out of the question. I've got work to do.
I can help you with the work. I wanna help you.
Well, so good, boy. I don't know you.
And you say you've run away?
Well, that's not good.
People might come looking for you. I can't be doing with that.
I could help with the digging. I could carry your things for you.
Listen, are you simple or something? I said no.
No, no, no. Now, go away. Go home.
I wanna shine a shoe! I never have anything to do!
( sniffling )
( crying )
Hey, it's all right. No, no, no.
Come up. Huh? Huh?
Please, can I come? I've got nowhere to go.
Well, I--
Well, I mean--
do you really want to help with the work?
Yes. Please.
Do you like animals?
I love animals.
So, can I come?
Yes, I suppose so.
I mean, if you really want to come.
Yeah.
Thank you.
Thank you. You're a very nice man.
Man: Come on, if you're coming.
- You dropped your whiskey. - Oh, thank you.
There's a few important things you have to remember.
First one is, never talk to anyone
about the work, or about me. Got it?
Yep.
The second one is, always do as I say.
The third one is,
you must never kill anything.
You understand that?
Never kill any living thing.
Yeah, I'll remember them all. I promise.
Good. That's it then.
- By the way, what's your name? - Bobby.
Call me Mr. Summers.
It's gonna get dark soon.
We've got a long way to go.
What's that noise, Mr. Summers?
You'll see.
You see? It's bamboo.
It does so sigh in the wind.
Come on, boy.
I imagine it's the land whispering to me.
Or playing its music.
Do you want some supper?
Yes, please.
Come on. Here.
( water running )
Wash you hands and sit down.
Bobby: What's that for?
The cheese? It's for the mice.
When the mice are finished,
the cockroaches come and eat what's left.
It's nature's way.
So, do you feed the mice every night?
Every night that I'm here.
If I feed them, they don't steal from me.
People usually kill mice when they don't want them to steal.
But I feed them.
Well, I think it's time you went to bed.
You can sleep there for tonight.
Thanks.
- Good night, Mr. Summers. - I'll put the lights out now.
Mr. Summers. Look!
It's the mice. It's the mice.
I used to have a pet mouse.
He was a beautiful black and white mouse called Peter.
He was so tame, he'd sit right in my hand.
If Peter was here,
these mice might have made him king or something.
I would like to hear more about that mouse of yours sometime.
Right now, I think you should get some sleep.
Mr. Summers?
Bobby: I did that a lot, that summer in Cornwall.
I spent a lot of time watching the tiny things
go about their business in the grass.
I used to have dreams with my eyes open.
Sometimes it was as if I was as small
as the things I was watching.
I used to go in beside them somehow,
and everything was big around me.
Sometimes I got lost in there,
but when I got frightened, I always came back to being me again,
so I never cried.
All those tiny things seemed to be going somewhere.
I never found out where it was.
Good morning, boy.
- Where have you been? - I've been into town, shopping.
Got a few things for you.
Come on in, I'll show you.
So, then,
I got you some boots...
and a sleeping bag. There it is.
And a knapsack of your own.
A thermos.
Oh, yes, and a trowel, for digging.
And a toothbrush.
Oh, wait.
I got you this.
Well, come on then, boy. Open it up.
Oh, brilliant!
I've always-- thanks--
thanks for everything, but I've always really wanted one of these knives.
Hey, it's not a big town, but the shops are very good
because of the holiday-makers and the tourists, you see.
Now, I'll get us some lunch.
Then we've got to make a start.
We've got some especially important work.
We've got a lepidopterist to deal with.
What does the lepidopterist do
with the dead moths?
He sticks pins in them, boy.
Keeps them in cases with glass tops.
He collects them, thousands of them.
Why does he have to kill them?
Why can't he look at them when they're alive?
He kills them because he sees nothing wrong with killing them.
Also, they're very easy to catch... and kill.
How does he do it, Mr. Summers?
You'll see, boy.
You'll see tonight.
- What's that he's got? - It's a deceitful machine.
It's a light so bright
that all the moths and insects are attracted from miles around,
tricked by the light, you see?
We're gonna put his light out.
How?
Smash it, boy. Smash it.
I've been here once before and I've smashed it once before.
Is it part of the work?
Yes.
Can I do it?
What?
I don't know.
Please.
All right. Why not?
You'll be able to run faster than me, that's for sure.
Take this stone.
Run as close as you dare,
and throw it right in the center. Throw it as hard as you can.
Smash it.
You think you can do that?
- Yeah, I can do that. - Good.
Mr. Summers: Now!
Run!
Do it!
Come on, for God's sake. Do it!
Hey! Hey!
Good boy.
Bobby: Mr. Summers. Mr. Summers!
Mr. Summers: Shh! It's me.
Come on, hurry, boy. Hurry!
What about the dog?
Don't worry about him. Look.
( growls )
I told you I've been here before. Come on, hurry!
Did I do it right?
Yes, Bobby.
I have to say, you did it very right.
How do you feel?
I feel fine.
I'm a bit tired, I'm really fine.
( laughing )
Bobby: The first day was the most exciting
of all my days with Mr. Summers
because of the attack on the lepidopterist's light.
We never did anything else like that,
although Mr. Summers had plenty of plans and schemes.
The rest of the time, we walked up and down
the narrow, twisty roads,
burying the animals the cars had squashed.
Curious carving, isn't it?
- Bobby: It's an elephant. - Mr. Summers: That's right. It is.
Bobby: As our bit of Cornwall got more and more packed with holiday-makers,
there were many more cars... many more deaths.
You maniac!
Get out of here, lunatic!
It was important work,
but sad.
Mr. Summers got crosser and crosser
and took to drinking whiskey out of the bottle during the day.
He said awful things about the people in the cars,
though I thought they looked quite ordinary.
But he was always very nice to me.
Aw, Mr. Summers, look.
Oh, no.
Not a badger.
Poor creature.
Must have been knocked over last night.
Why?
Why, in God's name?
Will somebody tell me why?
He's so beautiful, isn't he?
He's big. I had no idea they were this big.
He's too big to bury around here.
We'll collect him in the evening and bury him somewhere special.
Need to get him off the road.
Come on, Bobby.
Pick him up.
That's it.
Bring him over here.
Let's put him over by the wall.
That's good. He can't be seen from there.
We'll pick him up and we'll bury him later.
Bastards.
Bloody bastards.
( thunder rolls )
Mr. Summers: Damn it, I made a mistake.
We don't want to be involved in all this. Come on, Bobby.
But it would be nice to get ice-cream, wouldn't it?
All right. Come on.
All right. Yeah.
Don't be long. You know I don't much like the beach
with the holiday people there.
- I'll wait for you here. - Okay.
Thanks, Mr. Summers. Don't worry, I won't be long.
Girl: Come on, let's go.
Bobby.
Is it really you, Bobby?
Where have you been?
Bernard's been looking for you all over the place.
Come and have an ice-cream.
No, I've got to get back.
- Is there someone waiting for you? - Yeah.
No, no. It's just--
It's all right. Calm down. Calm down.
Let's go and get that ice-cream.
- Call the office. - Yeah, I'll call them.
Why did you run away, Bobby?
- I was frightened. - Frightened?
What were you frightened of?
Of him.
Of him. Of The Fat, my stepfather.
I don't understand.
He was horrible. He killed my pet mouse.
He said he was going to send me away to a hospital, forever.
Steady on, Bobby.
I can accept that he's--
I mean, not exactly the same sort of person your mother was,
but he's not as bad as all that, surely?
Two vanilla cones, please.
Is that with flakes?
Flake? No, no without the flake. Thank you.
- Without. Two scoops, dear? - Bobby. Come back!
Bobby!
Bobby! Wait!
Bobby!
Where am I?
Mr. Summers!
Lost.
How could you be so stupid?
Mr. Summers.
Um-hm?
I've got something to tell you.
Would this "something" have anything to do
with the day you got lost on the beach?
Yes, it would.
But it's not just that.
It's my whole story.
You wouldn't understand unless I tell you my whole story.
That man was--
Mr. Whiteside
is his name.
Bobby: It took ages.
We sat and smoked one cigarette after another
while I told him what had happened
on the beach with Mr. Whiteside.
I told him all that
and went right back to the beginning
and told him about my mother,
and the store, and The Fat.
I told him about Peter, the mouse
and about how The Fat had killed him.
And how frightened I was.
Then I told him about getting knocked down
by a car in the high street when I was little,
and not being well ever since.
I told him about the nurses and the tutors
and never having to go to school.
I told him about Dean
and running away to Cornwall.
Then I asked him if I had to go away.
No, Bobby.
You don't have to go away.
Can I keep on with the work?
Yes.
Can I live here with you?
Yes, you can.
Mr. Summers...
Yeah?
I love you.
But I'm worried about--
about--
Mr. Whiteside might...
tell The Fat that I'm in this part of the country.
He might try to look for me.
I've already told you that you can stay.
I'm more bothered about the effect all this has had on you.
I'm going out for a walk.
I need time to think about everything you just said.
You do your book or something.
I'll be back in a while.
Mr. Summers: Tell me, Bobby,
have you ever wondered
why I live like I live and do what I do?
Because you love the animals.
Yes, because I love the animals.
And because I believe that they are life.
Life equal to ourselves,
and not in some lesser--
less valuable form.
I also have a story.
I want you to listen carefully.
First of all, there was a young man.
He went straight from school to work in a bank.
He worked very hard and became manager of the bank.
But this took a long, long, long time,
and because he had been working so hard,
he hadn't really had time to think about meeting people,
having a girlfriend.
He did eventually meet a girl, though.
She was much younger than him and very beautiful.
He fell in love with her.
Who could blame him? It was wonderful.
After all these years of nothing but work,
to meet a beautiful woman
who seemed to admire him so much...
Like a reward.
Then the man bought a lovely house on the edge of the town.
A big house. A huge garden.
They married and they moved in.
Not long after this...
well, the details are unimportant.
He came to understand
that the woman he had married
was false.
Deceiver.
Mr. Summers?
Yes, it was around this time
that he became obsessed with his new ideas about animals
and he was foolish enough to start talking about them to people he knew.
His wife started to bother him about the garden.
She made him do work even though she knew
that he hated tearing out the wild plants
and replacing them with bought ones.
She made him kill to protect these new plants.
Life got worse and worse for the man.
He felt ill all the time, started making bad mistakes at work.
Life felt like...
one long, dark,
wet afternoon.
He just wanted to die.
But I couldn't do it, Bobby.
I couldn't kill myself because I knew if I did,
then it would be her killing me.
And me dead
is what deep down she really wanted.
I couldn't give her the satisfaction.
So...
I killed her.
I suffocated her
with a pillow.
But you don't kill.
I did that time,
that one time,
because it had to be done.
What about the police?
Do they know about it?
I don't know.
They didn't find a body, that's for sure.
I burnt it.
And I took a great deal of money from the bank.
I ran away. Just like you, Bobby.
It was the most exciting day of my life.
Then I wandered around for a time,
all over the country.
Finally, I came here.
( grunting )
No, I can manage.
There's something I want to show you.
Is that the money you took?
Some of it.
Three more boxes like this under the wardrobe.
More money that you or I will ever need.
Enough so we can live here forever.
Or some other place like it.
Well, that's brilliant.
Not quite. There's still The Fat to be considered.
He's got to be dealt with somehow.
Dealt with?
You mean, kill him?
Kill him?
No, we're not going to kill him.
Now that you know that money will never be a problem,
how do you fell about letting The Fat have the store?
For me, all right, I suppose.
But I feel bad about my mother
because I know she didn't want it that way.
But if she knew I was living here,
and I didn't need the store,
or even the house or anything,
then I think she might think it's all right to let it go.
You know, because what she wanted was me to be happy,
and that's what I am here, with you.
In that case,
you and I will go to London to see this man.
I don't know about that.
I've told you what he's like.
He really hates me.
Look, we'll see him in his office, at the store.
The staff will be there and his secretary.
What could he possibly do in broad daylight
in front of employees?
I think it will work.
I can feel it. I think it will.
You're a genius!
I haven't been in London in over 10 years.
Mr. Summers: That's a really good drawing.
Bobby, Bobby--
I can't help it, Mr. Summers, I feel so nervous.
I feel like I'm going to explode.
Look, we've been over this again and again.
I understand the state you're in, why you're in that state.
I told you, leave it all to me.
Gosh, it's Bobby. Hey, Bobby.
Hello.
Man: Bobby's back. How strange.
My dear Phillip, goodbye. I'll see you soon.
I look forward to it. And remember, my treat next time.
- See you again soon. - Yes.
Well, well, look who's back.
How very pleased I am to see you, Bobby.
I'll just be a moment.
- Janet. - Janet: Yes, Mr. Bernard?
Send them in now. No phone calls, no interruptions, nothing.
I understand.
Maybe you are going to introduce this gentleman, Bobby.
This is Mr. Summers.
Mr. Summers, this is my stepfather.
Please forgive me, Mr. Summers.
I have to admit this is taking me by surprise.
I began to think I might never see Bobby again.
Of course I am most grateful to you for bringing him back to me.
Please do sit down.
In fact, you're mistaken.
I haven't brought Bobby back.
He wanted to come back.
He has some matters that he wants to sort out with you.
I'm here to help him.
Help him?
In what capacity, may I ask?
Nothing official.
Please regard me
as a concerned friend.
Friend?
I assume Bobby has been telling you stories.
He has a lively imagination.
People tend not to take him too seriously.
But he has told me certain things, yes.
And?
Mr. Summers: I'm inclined to take him seriously.
Meaning?
Meaning I do believe
that I can solve the problem of Bobby for you.
Exactly how do you propose to do that, Mr. Summers?
Well, Bobby has been living with me in Cornwall
since the beginning if the summer.
He has told me that he is happy
and that he would like to stay on indefinitely.
He has been very helpful to me, in my work.
Really?
Is this true?
Yes, it's true.
I've been working with Mr. Summers.
He's been very kind to me
and I haven't felt ill at all.
Not really.
Well, quite different from how I felt before.
Good heavens, the boy can speak.
Congratulations, Mr. Summers, your ministrations
have clearly born fruit.
But why come to me for permission?
Bobby's a grown up. He can do as he pleases.
The fact of the matter is that Bobby became very anxious
after he met Mr. Whiteside on the beach.
He was worried
once his whereabouts were known,
then you might decide
to come looking for him.
Well, it was bothering him so much
that I suggested to him that he come back
on his own accord,
and tell you exactly what his new circumstances are.
And?
Well, then he told me
that he was prepared to consider the possibility
of transferring the ownership of Platts...
...to you.
On certain conditions, of course.
Is that it?
Yes. Yes, I believe so.
( sneezing )
You idiot.
Give me Platts?
I've got Platts. Platts is mine.
Your running away made that possible.
And now you're back, you pathetic moron--
Hey, stop that. Leave him alone!
Leave him alone?
You leave him alone,
you disgusting pervert.
Human rubbish...
unspeakable human rubbish.
Get off him!
Mr. Summers! Mr. Summers!
Listen to me.
Do exactly as I say.
One noise, one twitch, that would arouse anyone's suspicion,
and your Mr. Summers is finished. Do you understand?
Get him up.
- Janet. - Yes?
I need the car, at the back. Straightaway.
Mr. Summers isn't well. I'm taking him to accident and emergency.
Janet: Should I call the hospital?
The Fat: No need to fuss. I'll call you later.
This man's not well. We're taking him to casualty.
All right, Mr. Bernard.
Mr. Summers, wake up!
Are we taking him to a hospital?
Hardly necessary.
But he's hurt. He needs help.
I think I've changed my mind about Cornwall.
Maybe I should let you and Mr. Summers play house after all.
I'd like to see where you've been hiding all these weeks.
The Fat: Is it hard to find?
Bobby: No, I can find it.
( coughing )
The Fat: He's all right.
He's sleeping like a baby.
Can you find his place from here?
Well, can you get us there from here?
If you don't tell me, he'll have to, won't he?
I can't carry him all the way by myself.
Charming little place, isn't it?
Is there anything to drink?
Bobby: Mr. Summer's whiskey.
It's in there.
Get it for me, then.
( whispers ) Mr. Summers.
( crying )
( birds chirping )
What a bloody racket.
Well, it's light now.
Is there a spade here?
Is there a spade here?
Why?
I want a hole dug, that's why.
What for?
What's the matter? You can dig, can't you?
I can bury things.
Can you? Where's the bloody spade?
There's one outside by the lavatory.
Please stay awake.
I love you.
Don't die.
Please, don't die.
You can't die.
What would I do without you?
Don't let them destroy you, Bobby.
Don't let him destroy--
Trick him.
Trap him.
Kill him.
He would do it.
Dig.
The Fat: Dig long and deep.
Bobby: I thought of running away.
But how could I have left Mr. Summers?
Once I started digging,
I didn't really want to stop.
I thought about all sorts of things while I was digging that hole.
I could hear the sea sound,
making me think how big the sea was and how small I was.
It seemed that I couldn't really matter since I was so small.
And I thought about the birds
and the little animals.
After them, the insects.
After them, there were even smaller things
with names I didn't know.
There were trees and plants and grasses,
and they were all alive.
Mr. Summers thought all these things mattered.
"If they didn't matter, " he would say,
"why were they there? And why were they so beautiful?"
Then I thought, if all these things did matter,
then maybe I mattered too.
For a little while I felt a bit better.
Why have you stopped?
- Because I finished. - No, you haven't.
I need another hole, just like this one.
That's enough for now. I'm thirsty.
You can leave the spade.
It's just a toad. It's a toad.
It's harmless.
There's nothing to be scared of.
Look.
I can pick it up.
It wouldn't hurt anyone.
- Look. - ( The Fat gasps )
You little bastard.
Stop! There's money. There's lots of money.
Money? What money?
Mr. Summer's money. The money that he had. There's lots of it.
How much? 50 pounds? 100 pounds?
I suppose you think 100 pounds is a great deal of money--
No, it's thousands. I promise, it's thousands.
- Where is it then? - Under the wardrobe.
Go get it then.
It's locked. The key, where's the key?
It's on Mr. Summer's key ring.
What are you doing?
Nothing.
There's more.
Down there.
More?
Mr. Summers says there's three more boxes.
Down there. Right under the floor.
I hope you're right.
Can't you help me?
( screaming )
( screams ) The Fat!
I hate The Fat!
( screaming )
( clunk )
Mr. Summers! Mr. Summers, I'm back.
Mr. Summers?
I'm back.
Can you hear me?
I'm back.
Bobby: I took as much of Mr. Summer's money as I could carry,
then buried the rest in the hole The Fat made me dig for myself.
I had to get away in case people came looking for us
after The Fat never came back.
Now I do the work alone, all over the place.
wherever I happen to be.
One day I found a traveler's camp.
Now I live there with my dog in a tent I bought.
But night after night,
in my dreams,
I become something very small in forest of tall grass.
I can hear the sea sound and the bamboo,
very loud.
And I can feel Mr. Summers close by...
whispering to me in the dark.
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