Were you taking my picture?
I…
- That's what I think you just did. - I'm sorry.
But you were just a silhouette against the ocean.
A silhouette?
Was I?
Yeah. There was a rim of sun around you.
You know that this is the Mediterranean Sea?
You said it was the ocean.
But it's a sea.
I know it's the sea.
So, tell me about this--
this rim of sun you were talking about.
It was like an aura.
An aura?
Yeah.
And you liked this aura?
Yeah.
- You thought it was pretty, this aura? - Yeah.
How pretty?
Very.
Very pretty.
These pictures of this aura…
what are you gonna do with them?
Are you gonna look at them?
You're gonna look at the auras?
I'm hungry.
You're hungry?
Can I have fish fingers?
You want fish fingers? Are you sure you don't want pasta?
I want fish fingers.
Fish fingers? You have fish fingers at home.
- Don't you want spaghetti? - No, I want fish fingers.
What about pizza?
Yay, pizza.
Is that okay? What kind of pizza?
Just plain cheese and tomato pizza.
No mushrooms? What about-- Oops.
Here, let me.
- You really don't have to. Here. - No, I'd be happy to.
Thank you. My hands are literally full.
What's your name, mate?
I'm Nicholas.
Nicholas. How old are you?
I'm four.
Four? That's a lot.
- No, it is not. - Yeah, it is.
No, it is not.
Course it is. Look, this is one and that's a little.
This is two and it's more.
This is three and it's many.
But this, that's four and that's a lot.
This is one and that's a little.
- This is two and that is more. - Yeah?
This is three and that is…
Many.
- Right. This is three… - Yeah.
…and that is many.
This is four. That's a lot.
- Oh, my God. - That's it.
You were awake most of the night,
feeling strangled by freshly unburied memories.
You finally fell asleep at 4:30 in the morning.
You wake up with the certainty that your priority must be
to protect your family.
To regain a balance.
Yeah. Sure.
I'm doing what I can, but I'm telling you that would put us in a worse position
with the Treasury Select Committee from where we currently stand.
Yes, it's an odd question.
Of course I want to keep on managing the funds.
Well-- What? That's not up to you.
That decision would have to be made
by the majority of the family and with the approval of the Trust.
You think back to the day before,
when you almost told Robert everything,
and you're happy you didn't.
Okay.
He thinks he's the strong one, but he isn't really.
You met him when he had just finished university.
He is two years younger than you.
He was shy,
and it had made him seem younger than he was.
And you immediately felt protective towards him.
All right, I won't shout if you don't shout.
The twat just hung up on me.
- Was that Hugo? - Yeah, the worthless shit
is threatening to take the family charities to a different firm.
- That's not very brotherly. - That's because he's my half brother.
Come on. His bark's worse than his bite, darling.
Yeah, but the issue is that his bark is making
the rest of the family yelp as well.
A fucking pack of Chihuahuas.
You see, they see all these NGOs and charities
as means of tax relief and greenwashing.
They fail to understand that they actually must do their work…
- You know what you're doing, and-- - …otherwi-- Yeah.
Yeah, I know.
Let me cook dinner tonight.
That's so lovely of you to offer,
but you've been very, very stressed about that book, so no need.
Oh, that. It's nothing.
- It's really nothing. It's nonsense. - Are you sure?
Yeah. I'll check in at work for a bit,
and I'll come back and organize things here for a bit,
and then I'll get some food and make that sole meunière you love.
All right. Well, that sounds rather fucking delicious.
And we can be a little bit naughty
and drink that bottle of Puligny-Montrachet that Roger gave us.
Okay. Must dash.
Somebody needs to keep those yappy Pomeranians at bay.
- Did I take my keys? - In your pocket, darling.
Marriage is delicate.
Not just yours, but all marriages.
There's a balance to maintain,
and you think you have succeeded in keeping yours on course.
- Excuse me. Can you help me please? - Yes.
Of course. What do you need?
Yes. I'm looking for a vacuum cleaner.
Do you have anything in mind?
Well, my wife used to take care of most of the household duties.
- She's dead now, you see. - I'm so sorry to hear that.
You're very kind.
I suppose I need something light.
Something an old chap like me can manage up and down the stairs.
Of course. I think I have exactly what you're looking for.
Please, come this way.
This is a Dyson, king of vacuum cleaners.
Super powerful. In fact, unbeatable suction.
Nothing stronger than it on the market.
And it's quite light, so it's easy to get up and down the stairs.
That's fascinating. Well, it's a-- it's--
it's a peculiar machine, isn't it?
It's top-of-the-line. Revolutionary technology.
- Comes with a price, of course. - How much?
£299.
I don't know. I think I might be more comfortable
with something that resembles my old model.
Something like-- like that.
Yeah, the Hoover Breeze Evo.
Way less power. A sound choice for a budget.
May I just-- Oh, dear. That's much heavier, isn't it?
I'm not sure I have the strength to manage it,
you know, with the stairs.
I guess…
Perhaps something nonelectrical might be better.
A Bissell. Isn't that what they're called?
With the rollers that catch the dust as they roll over the--
Oh, yes. There it is. Yeah. What about that?
How thick is the carpet in your flat?
It's not a flat. It's a house.
It's a terrace house with a garden, and--
Carpet or rugs? Or bare floors?
Well, downstairs there's wooden floors with some carpets.
Upstairs is mostly carpet. What do you reckon?
Either one will do a fine job.
Well, what's the difference between the two?
No, you can't compare them.
One is a Maserati, the other is a Toyota Camry.
I don't own a car.
What I mean is they both do the same job,
just one does it better.
What would you do if you were me?
The Dyson.
You're the expert.
Won't disappoint. Well worth the money.
I couldn't help noticing his impatience.
What was making him so anxious?
Surely not an old man unsure about which vacuum cleaner to buy.
Do you want it delivered?
Would that cost more?
No, we offer free deliveries for any orders over £50.
How nice.
Do you want it delivered or will you take it with you?
Delivered would be very helpful.
Can I have your name please?
It's Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski.
Can you spell that for me please?
J-Ó-Z-E-F.
With an acute accent over the O.
What's an acute accent?
An acute accent leans to the right
as opposed to the grave accent which leans a bit to the left.
Like you'd find over the A in à propos.
Right. Yeah. You better write it down for me.
And your address please.
I gave him Joseph Conrad's real name.
Not that he would know who Joseph Conrad was,
but his real name would make him type more letters
and have him probably struggling for space.
Is that an L after the S?
That is a K.
How'd you like to pay?
If I may, I'd love to put this on my credit card.
Are you sure I shouldn't get the other cleaner?
I told you, I think you're buying an amazing cleaner.
- It's just, I'm not… - I'm sorry?
I'm not sure. How can I put this?
It's a lot of money for someone on my pension.
- But-- - I'm so sorry.
I didn't-- don't think I can go through with it.
I'm sorry about my change of heart.
You've been very helpful. Hope I haven't wasted your time.
Thank you.
I'd hoped he might at least have come close
to persuading me to buy something I didn't need,
but he was hopeless.
A complete waste of space.
He was going to be such an easy catch.
Good morning, Catherine. Congratulations on the award.
Thank you, Jodie.
- Good morning, Catherine. - Jisoo.
How did it go?
It went well.
I know you hate this stuff.
Congratulations, Catherine.
Thank you, Meg.
You have lots of cards.
- These came from upstairs. - They're beautiful.
They also sent champagne.
Is that the award?
Oh, yes.
- Can I hold it? - Yeah. Sure. It's heavy.
- Congratulations, Catherine. - Cheers.
Congratulations, Catherine.
I want to see Simon's face
when he sees the award.
How's the move going?
Well, it's going.
Guess you never really stop moving till you move again.
- Coffee? - Please.
- Well done, Cathy, by the way. - Thank you. Thank you, Simon.
So, what now?
Well, someone wants to turn my documentary into a feature.
- Yeah. A film. - That's--
- that's great. Yeah. - Isn't it?
- Yeah. - Though, I don't think Americans
will fully, you know, relate to boarding school culture.
- I don't think they will. - Yeah.
Yeah, but they want Jodie Foster to play the role.
- Okay. - Yeah.
Well, Jodie's great.
- Isn't she? Isn't she? - Yeah.
If you wanna talk about it, do let me know…
- Absolutely. - …because I have had experience
with some of these movie guys.
- Yes, I know. - Okay.
- Thank you, Simon. - Anytime, Cathy.
Is it true? A film adaptation?
No. Just wanted to see his face.
You're terrible.
Aren't I?
Here's your pictures, negatives and the USB drive.
I had expected for the lab to refuse to make duplicates
because of the explicit content of the photographs,
but they didn't say a word.
I had my ammunition.
I just needed to throw the grenade.
Right, okay. So, just click on that there. Right?
- Have a nice day, sir. - Have a nice day.
You know that only a handful of people
could have knowledge of the events that inspired the book,
and you blame yourself
for not having investigated with the same rigor you would have
if you were working on any other story.
You had only met Nancy Brigstocke once, ten years ago,
and you think that perhaps you have underestimated her strength.
Perhaps that fragile, old woman had triumphed over death,
and now she is advancing on you too.
- Mrs. Brigstocke? - Yes.
I'm Catherine.
- Do you want a tea or coffee? - No, thank you.
I'm sorry about your loss.
I'm sorry?
You-- Your husband--
You wrote to me in your letter
- that your husband passed. - Oh, yes. Thank you.
Yeah.
So… what can I do for you?
Do you ever think of me?
Because I think of you every day.
I was surprised I never heard from you.
You didn't even bother to come to my son's funeral.
You didn't even send flowers.
Yes. No.
Yes, I'm sorry about that--
It was the least you could have done.
The decent thing to do after what happened.
You're a mother too. You should understand these things.
I'm here now, Mrs. Brigstocke.
When it happened, you told the police that you'd never met my son before.
Jonathan.
But you had.
You had met him, hadn't you?
Yes.
So, why did you lie? Why didn't you tell the truth?
I just didn't think it would be helpful.
Helpful? Helpful to whom? To you?
No, no. Helpful to anyone.
Okay, yes. You'd moved on.
"Off the hook," as they say.
Got away with it. Just another hidden secret.
- No. - My life has been misery ever since.
Every single day.
I had to stop work. I lost everything.
Yes. I'm sorry about that.
So, if you want to do the decent thing,
you better speak up now
because this is probably the last chance you'll have.
You just have to know, it's not easy, Mrs. Brigstocke.
It's actually very, very complicated--
Complicated-- Complicated? No, no, no, no, no, it's not complicated.
- I'm dying. Terminal cancer. - I'm--
I'm so sorry.
Not so complicated then, is it?
I'm sorry. I don't think I should--
I don't think there's anything I can say to help you.
Your son's name is Nicholas, isn't it?
Yes.
I want to meet him.
Sorry?
I want to meet your son.
- No. - Just for a moment or two.
- No. No. I'm sorry, I can't allow that. - I'm sure you can understand why.
Your son is running around above ground, while mine lies rotting beneath.
Nicholas owes his life to my son.
He should know that he wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for Jonathan.
I'm sorry. It was a mistake coming here.
You're remarkable.
How can you sleep at night? How can you live with yourself?
I'm so sorry about your illness, but there's nothing I can do to help you.
- He saved your son. - Well, I wish he hadn't.
Don't you find it exhausting pretending to be someone you're not?
Yes, that's it. Run away. Go on.
Nancy Brigstocke died in 2011.
- Only her husband survives her. - No, no, her husband's dead.
No, he's very much alive.
His name is Stephen Brigstocke, 77 years old.
Retired teacher, Cambridge educated. London based.
Have you got any contact details for him?
- Here. Address and phone number. - Thanks.
I also emailed them to you.
Don't make contact.
I just want to know what he's been up to the last couple of years.
So, what's the story?
I don't know yet.
It's probably nothing. Just-- Thank you, Jisoo.
- Thank you. - Sure.
You have put a name and a face to what threatens you.
You have taken control of the process.
You have regained your focus.
You feel safe again…
but you understand that you must get to Stephen Brigstocke
before he can do any real harm.
Doors closing.
Hello, HOPE. This is Janise speaking. How can I direct your call?
Excuse me?
Yes. How can I help you?
Yes. I have a package for Mr. Robert Ravenscroft.
You could have just left that downstairs at reception, you know.
Yes, I know, but he's waiting for it,
and I was instructed
to make sure that it was delivered to him safely.
- I'll tell his secretary. - Thank you.
Going down.
Doors closing.
- Hi, Rex. - Hi, Catherine.
- How's the sole? - Lovely today. Still swimming.
Oh, lovely. I'll have two. Thanks.
Sure. Would you like them filleted?
No. Just chop off their heads.
- Okay. - Thank you.
Early on in your relationship,
you went with Robert on a trip to Paris.
In a restaurant on Île Saint-Louis,
you both had sole meunière that he loved.
You're not a dedicated cook, but you've learned that recipe.
You cook it every time
you want you and Robert to reconnect to happier, easier times.
I've got a traveler.
- Do you want the heads at all? - No, no. You keep them.
- Give them to Emma. - I will do. Thanks.
- See ya. - Okay. Bye.
Robert.
These are the files you needed, and this came in earlier.
They said that you were waiting for it.
Thank you. Just pop it on the desk please.
Anything else, Robert?
No. That'll be all. Have a good evening, Emily.
Thank you. You too, Robert.
Just leave the door open, if you don't mind.
Yeah.
Robert manages a firm
that serves as an umbrella to multiple NGOs,
many of them founded by his family for charity purposes and prestige,
but also as vehicles to circumvent anti-money laundering compliance rules.
Emily! Emily!
Emily!
- Robert? - I'm sorry, Emily.
Where did this come from?
Someone left it at reception.
- Who? - Janise said that it was an old man.
He said that you were waiting for it. He didn't say anything else.
And this man, what did he look like?
She said he looked a bit, well, rough, unhoused, but he was polite.
He didn't hang around, just left the envelope, and walked out.
- Any problem? - No, no, no.
It's fine. Thank you. I'll see you in the morning.
- Good evening, Mr. Ravenscroft. - Good evening. Thank you.
Doors closing.
He recognizes the hotel where the photos were taken…
but what he can't keep his eyes away from is Catherine.
The face is unquestionably hers,
yet her expression is not the one he knows.
This Catherine in the photographs is not his wife.
Oh, dear.
This is a young woman bursting with desire,
enjoying pleasure with absolute abandon.
Her sexuality in its pure form, separated from him.
He can't recognize this Catherine,
nor the arousal he is feeling, hidden under his anxiety and pain.
You never miss your weekly call to your mother.
Although, recently, they have been hurried, careless conversations,
and you feel that she deserves more than that.
Your mother has started getting confused about dates and times,
but there is nothing to be alarmed about yet.
Hello?
Mum. How are you?
How's your week been?
Lovely. Thank you.
Quiet, you know, but very nice.
When did you get back from holiday?
Been back for ages.
You know, I've seen you a lot since then.
- Did you go and see Emma's new baby? - Oh, yes. They came to pick me up.
They've been so kind.
- Lovely little thing. All smiles. - Is she?
And how's Nick and the job?
Yeah. Yeah, he likes it, I think.
Yeah, he really does.
That's fantastic. He's such a clever boy.
I'm sorry for not coming over the last couple of weeks.
It's been a bit hectic. You know, what with the move and everything.
Don't be silly. You came two days ago.
I was happy to see you yesterday.
No, Mum, I haven't been over for two weeks.
You know, Robert and I have moved.
I didn't know.
You know, we've moved house.
Look, why don't we have a family lunch,
and I can get Nick over too and, you know, hey, come pick you up?
No, you don't have to pick me up, Catherine. I can pop on the bus.
All right. Well, we can talk about it.
How's Aleena? Is she taking care of everything?
She's wonderful.
All right. Well, do you want her to come more often?
You know, I mean, maybe every day just, you know, during the week.
Oh, God, no. No.
We sit and watch the telly together.
She leaves the sofa smelling of curry.
- Well, she must really like you then. - She's lovely.
All right, Mum. Well, I-- Yeah, I better get back to supper, and--
- But I'll call you soon. Okay? - All right, darling.
- I love you. Yes. Bye-bye. - Bye. Take care. Bye. Bye.
You know that you're tiptoeing around your mother's gentle decline.
Not yet named, but gradually making itself visible.
Robert knows when the photographs were taken.
It was during a trip to Italy.
He remembers he had missed part of that holiday.
He had flown home early,
leaving Catherine and Nicholas behind.
- Hello? - Nick. Hi, it's Dad.
Hello.
Listen, have you eaten?
No.
Well, I'm gonna swing by,
and take you out to dinner.
I've had to work really late, and I'm starving.
It'll just be a quickie.
We'll go to that pub near you. It's actually on my way home, mate.
Mum's trying to get hold of you, by the way.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know.
I've spoken to her, so nothing to worry about.
I'll see you soon, boyo.
Okay.
Robert has not replied to your calls or texts.
This troubles you. He has not even called to apologize.
You think he's being selfish. He hasn't given you any thought.
You're hurt.
Catherine is wrong.
Robert has done nothing for the last two hours but think of her.
Before he met Catherine,
Robert didn't have much sexual experience.
And although they never discussed this,
he always feared that Catherine had been more experienced than him.
This has always made him feel insecure.
- Shall we go? - I'm not quite ready.
That's fine. I'll come up and wait.
Take a seat. There's no one in.
The place reeks of dope.
Robert hasn't been there
since he and Catherine helped Nicholas move in three months ago.
He is repulsed by the place,
but he reasons that this is to be expected in a flat full of students.
Except Nicholas is not a student.
Robert wouldn't admit it,
but he feels deeply disappointed in who Nicholas has become.
He tells himself that his son once had great potential,
and feels another surge of anger towards Catherine.
This is her fault.
She always prioritized her work and her own enjoyment,
neglecting her own son.
And now she has pushed Nicholas away.
She persuaded Robert
that it would be good for him to be independent.
Come on, mate. The Montpelier?
They've got those pork cheek croquettes that you really love.
You can wait out there. I'll just be a minute.
No rush, matey.
Yeah, I'm curious where you can get to.
No, it would be fantastic if I could be in the job
and earn a bit more money.
That's great.
I don't know. Maybe.
I think I'd like to get to the, like--
the manager kind of status and things like that.
They've kind of given me the plan of the, like, five-year kind of period.
After one month, I think they said that's when the training days are over,
and then I start receiving staff benefits and things like that.
So, I mean, that would be great, isn't it?
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, that's fantastic.
So, how's it all going, like, with the flat?
I haven't been there much recently.
- Why? - There's this girl I've met
and I've been spending quite a lot of time at her place.
Tell me about her.
Not much to tell, really.
I don't think she'd be Mum's cup of tea.
It's got nothing to do with her, has it? I mean, who's she to judge you?
So, this girl, what's she like?
Well, we're hoping to go away this summer,
but I don't know if I can get the money together.
Go to where?
Somewhere cheap.
Maybe Majorca or Spain.
What about Italy?
I guess. Do they have nice beaches there?
Yeah, of course they do.
Don't you remember that holiday that we went on when you were little?
- No. - Yeah, you were about five.
I had to go home about halfway through because of work.
I just left you and Mummy all on your own.
- Vaguely. Not really. - Yeah. It was just for a few days.
I felt really, really bad about it at the time.
I just shouldn't have left you on your own alone with your mummy.
You don't have to feel bad about it, Dad, because I don't remember.
No, but I do-- I feel really bad.
Are you sure you don't remember?
Didn't Mummy meet up with one of her friends?
I'm telling you, I don't remember.
You should take your girlfriend away somewhere really nice. I'm gonna help you.
I'd love that, but Mum won't like it.
She says it's against the rules and I have to sort it on my own.
Well, then, screw her.
Thank you.
- Do you want another bottle? - No, I'm fine with this one.
It's inexcusably ghastly.
All right. I'll be back.
What happened?
Darling?
Oh, God.
These came to the office.
Who sent them?
I don't know.
Who else has them?
I don't know.
You don't know?
These could soon be all over the Internet. Sit down.
Look at them.
Who gave you those?
Look at them.
Please, I just--
Look at them closely.
Please, Robert. I can explain.
I just-- Darling, please stop.
How could you?
I'm so sorry.
Oh, God, I should have told you.
What exactly happened?
It's not like--
It was so long ago. I--
I know exactly when it was. I shared that bedroom with you.
Yes, I know. I should have told you.
As I remember, we were barely making love then anyway.
Which is why I bought you this fucking underwear.
Robert, just stop. I'll tell you, but if you just listen.
- Now it makes sense. - I'll tell you if you just listen.
It was after that holiday--
It was after that-- Let me speak, Catherine.
It was after that damn holiday
that you told me that you wanted to go back to work.
- Yes. Well, I did-- - Yeah. "I'm depressed.
I miss work. I don't know who I am anymore."
That was bullshit.
You were bored being a mother. You were bored being married to me.
- No. No. No. - No, you were bored,
- and you had to get yourself attention. - No, Robert. It's not--
God knows how many others there have been.
All those fucking work trips.
No, no, no, no. Robert, please.
No wonder you always have migraines whenever I want to have sex with you.
I know. I'm sorry.
- It's not because I don't want to. - Clearly I've never been enough for you.
No, no. You have. You have. You are, darling.
I should have listened to my family. They fucking warned me about you!
Darling, please stop. If you just listen to me, darling.
Listen to you?
Now, I didn't want you to leave us there.
Do you remember that?
I asked you not to go. Not to go back to work,
not to leave Nick and I.
Remember? I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to be--
You're unbelievable. You're saying that this is--
- No. I wanted to be with-- - You're saying this is my fault.
- No, no, no, no. - Of course, you're always the victim,
aren't you?
Well, yes, I am. I--
No, no, no. You really think you could justify everything, don't you?
You can-- Just manipulating everyone around you
while presenting yourself as Saint fucking Catherine.
Don't be cruel.
I'm being-- I'm cruel? Catherine.
So, did it carry on?
- No. - Who was it?
He--
- I want to know who the fuck it was. - Please, darling.
Was it some Italian waiter?
- No. It wasn't. - Was it-- Is it a holiday shag?
- Like a horny teenager. Quick lay. - No.
Or like a British tourist on a packaged holiday.
- Bit of sunshine, a couple of beers… - No.
…and they're anyone's.
Of course, they don't usually have their fucking kids with them, do they?
I know. But it wasn't like that.
Well, what was it like? Because he was taking photographs of Nick.
Our son was there. Our son.
- I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. - How could you do this to him?
It's one thing doing it to me, but to him?
No wonder he barely talks to you.
No wonder he can't even look at you.
Is it because of what he saw?
- No, no. No. - Did he see this?
Or did he hear it?
No, Nick didn't hear anything. I swear to you.
I made sure he didn't hear or see anything.
That's fantastic. You're mother of the century.
Why don't we put it next to your other fucking awards?
I'm a shit mother. I know that.
But he didn't hear anything. He doesn't know anything.
He's read this book, hasn't he, Catherine?
Yes, I know he has. But he hasn't made the connection.
- You're unbelievable. - So…
Did he write it?
What's that? I can't hear you.
- He couldn't have. - Then who did?
I don't know.
- His father, I think. - His father?
Yes. I think it was his father.
Oh, dear Lord. He was a fucking kid, wasn't he?
How old was he?
He's dead. He died.
That's why you didn't tell me.
You thought you'd gotten away with it.
No, I thought I could forget about it.
- That's what I'm trying to tell you. - You thought you got away with it.
I just can't. Please, darling. Please.
- I want to tell you. - You thought you got away with it.
Please don't leave. I'll tell you everything.
- Please. - Don't touch me, Catherine.
Please, Robert. Don't leave. Please stay. Don't leave me.
- It's fine. I'll simply read the book. - Darling. Darling. Please. Please.
I said don't touch me!
Okay. I'm so sorry.
Robert, please don't leave me.
Don't leave.
Robert! Robert! Please don't--
It's not what you think, darling!