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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've finished a 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 feelins
the book had started within her.
That very morning,
after hazy years of reading, 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 had ended up living.
I am convinced this new bookshop will be
everything you say it is, 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've had 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.
This is the way I...
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 that there are those who beliee
there are other possible uses for the Old House.
Though of course there's always the possibility of a resale...
But I've 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 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 bak 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, uh, throw the rope to you?
Yes, of course!
Watch out! It's 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?
Rumor 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.
And I don't think he's gonna 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.
Oh yes, never stopped talking!
Farewell.
Good luck, Mrs. Green!
Do you not read, Mr. Raven?
I don't.
Books leave me exhausted.
Real life is enough for me.
Mister 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 to night
hadn't been written by human beings,
but had appeared through spontaneous generation.
There was nothing that bothered him more
than the portraits of writers
often included in certain editions.
It's not red.
It's a... very deep maroon,
or a... rust.
Anyway, how is the Old House?
Hmm? How are you coping?
Well, Sam Wilkins was in, and fixed the bath, and tiled the roof
and repaired the cistern as best as he could, anyway.
That place is... like an old fossil.
Even the straw is 500 years old.
All right. Arms up!
There.
You are still gonna move in there, aren't you?
I spent my first night there last night.
What? So soon?
I told everyone to watch out.
But nobody actually thought you were gonna move into the Old House,
- what with the damp and all. - Oh, 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 the wood in an old house like that creaks everywhere.
I'm afraid red isn't really for me.
And it doesn't look very good on me from behind, but...
Perhaps if I stand against the wall
most of the time I'm there...
- Too red, don't you think? - It's not...
It's not red.
It's a very deep maroon.
Yes.
You'll get used to it, in time.
Need a bit of jewelry.
- Make it stand out. - Yes. Yes.
- Are you sure? - Well, of course I'm sure.
It's not every day that the General and Mrs. Gamart
- invite you to a party, is it? - No.
Oh, stop agonizing!
You look...
lovely.
Anyway, when you get there, you won't have to worry about how you look.
No one'll mind you.
You'll probably know all the guests, anyhow.
I... I'm Florence Green.
I'm the one opening the little bookshop.
That's it, of course!
Got it right away!
Ah! Of course!
Violet was very interested in that matter. Mm...
She wanted one of those conversations of hers...
...with you about the bookshop. Hmm.
She's rather caught up right now,
but I believe she wishes to talk to you later.
So, uh...
What sort of stuff are you going to have in your shop?
Well, um...
- Basically books. - Mmm.
They don't publish many books of poetry these days, do they?
I... I don't see too many about.
Well, I... I shall have some poetry, of course,
but it doesn't sell quite so well as other things,
like novels and essays.
It... It'll take me some time to find out
what kind of stock I'll be bringing in...
Of course. Mmm.
For the moment I've mainly ordered classics,
Thackeray, Dickens, Keats... That sort of thing.
"It is easy to be dead.
Say only this...
they are dead."
Do you know who wrote that?
No.
I'm... I'm so sorry, I don't.
I know who you are.
You must be Mrs. Green.
Yes.
And I know who you are, of course, Mr. North.
Ah-ha!
Though I... I've never had an invitation to The Stead before,
- I expect you come here often. - Oh, yes.
I do get invited frequently.
Oh, thank you. You're very kind.
Ooh, Not very.
Here you go.
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 is 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 assume, because of your work,
you would be someone who would appreciate
having a bookshop in Hardborough.
Uh...
I am sure you know writers at the BBC,
and... and thinkers, and so forth.
And I trust they come down here from time to time
to... see you, and get some fresh air.
Ha!
If they did come...
I wouldn't quite know what to do with them.
I mean, writers will go anywhere where there is free drink.
I'm not so sure about thinkers.
Anyway, I think that Kattie, my so-called girlfriend,
would look after them.
Well, at any rate, you must both come to my shop.
I shall rely on you.
On no account.
Madam, would you like some canapes?
Why are you wearing red?
Red's a color that only looks good on housemaids
out on their day off.
It's not red, it's a... It's a deep maroon.
My dear lady.
Florence, isn't it?
Yes.
I have been wanting to speak to you since you arrived,
but my guests seem to have nothing better to do
than steer me away from my priorities.
Thank you so much for coming!
- Thanks... for inviting me. - It's such a pleasure!
It's such a lovely party, really.
Everyone is talking about your new venture.
You have such a great nose for business!
- Well, yes, but it's... - Bruno!
Have you been introduced to my husband?
Come and tell Mrs.
- Miss... - 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, Mrs. Green, and a very small one at that.
You haven't actually moved into the Old House, have you?
Yes, I've 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.
I... In fact, I hope to help you.
There are other 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 have practically showed us all up
by being in such a hurry, Mrs. Green.
But the fact is that 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 arts center.
Fine, Violet, you could pray for that also.
Chamber music in summer, lectures in winter...
There is simply no other old house that has the right...
ambience.
I've been negotiating this 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.
And we have one great advantage,
it would be a shame to just...
throw it away,
which is that now we have exactly the right person
to take charge of the matter... I mean to take charge of the Center.
You do understand, don't you?
Why don't you think it over for a bit?
- Ah! Sonia! - Mrs. Gamart...
How wonderful you look!
Her feet and head ached
and she regretted having taken the seamstress's advice
as to the color of her dress.
That was all.
Not for one moment did she thik about the consequences
that her modest act of inhabiting Old House would bring upon her.
You look radiant.
Isn't that Lord Gosfield?
My word! What a guest list this evening, Violet.
Thank you.
- Lord Gosfield. - How do you do?
How difficult it has been to try to reach you this evening!
I hope Bruno has told you about our new Hardborough Center...
- Oh, yes. - ...for music and the arts?
We were just talking about it.
Mrs. Green!
- Hello. - Mr. Deben.
- Good morning. - I'm glad I caught you.
- How are you? - Very well, thanks. Very well.
Um, I wanted to ask you about my shop.
I want to speak to you about my shop. Um...
- It's up for auction. - Yes.
Not until April. Could be later, still...
Um... Well, the fact is, I...
I'd much prefer to reach a private agreement before that.
As you've expressed a certain interest in the property
and since you are not going to remain in the Old House...
Well, I trust that you'll appreciate that I'm too busy
to pay attention to any rumors I hear.
Well, it stands to reason you'll be making an offer on other premises.
There's been a misunderstanding, Mr. Deben, but...
Yes, but it doesn't matter in the slightest, and I, um...
I... I should like to be able to help you.
Mrs. Gamart was, um...
kind enough to tell me about her idea for an arts center.
From which, I am sure, every one of us
living here in Hardborough would benefit.
And I believe she is the one who was searching about for premises,
and what could be better than your fish shop?
Yeah... I see.
Well... You've been extremely kind.
- Thank you for your help. - You're welcome, Mr. Deben.
- Well, good morning. - Yeah. 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.
Ah-ha!
I... I didn't know if you'd be down in London or...
London? No, I'm here. Well, I think I am.
- May I? - Yeah.
Um... Nescafé?
Oh, I... I've never tried it.
I have heard of it, but I...
I'm told it's not made with boiling water.
Yeah.
This is all much too small for you.
Oh, I know, I know.
You know? I'm glad that you've, uh, 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 arts center,
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 me,
I doubt very much that she would have used the word "manage".
Ah...
Do you fancy Nescafé or...
not?
No. No, neither, thank you.
- Are you sure? - Yes.
- Do you mind if I...? - Oh, no, please.
I should probably get going.
Are you? Really?
Yes. Thank you anyway.
Well, it's, um... It's lovely to see you.
Well, from what I've heard,
and practically by chance, you were starting to think twie
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... I was told that you... - What?
That I'd be leaving the Old House,
which is, by the way, my only home?
There are many other vacant properties in Hardborough
and, 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, so I see.
And just what is it that you are doing here?
Mr. Raven told us to stop around.
What would you like us to do?
Well, I want all the bookshelves put up in there.
Do you think you can manage that?
How many hand drills can you get us, ma'am?
How long have you been waiting here, in the pouring rain?
If I can find the keys...
Okay, hurry up!
When Mrs. 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 this was her happiest momet in the bookshop.
Very, uh, lonely job, yours.
Oh. Sorry about the waders.
I don't feel in the least bit lonely.
That shelf in there is a fifth of an inch crooked.
And that plastering 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? Were your ears burning?
What are you doing here, boy?
I've 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 give 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's just seen a ghost!
I'm certain he'll know 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 envelope's black edges?
He ordered those envelopes back around 1919,
when they were all returning from the First War, and...
Mrs. Brundish died...
during their honeymoon.
Oh, yes. How did she die?
She was drowned...
crossing the marshes.
She had 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 out one of his customers with a desk pad
when he became annoying.
There'd been some delay in the arrival
of the latest instalment 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 coin of the world.
This is a great honor 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 that.
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 are about good people,
whereas novels are much more interesting if they are 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 round 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 afternoons, 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 her youngest, Christine, is the cleverest,
but she probably wouldn't give her up 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 Cutts.
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.
Um...
And what about your other sister?
She spends all her time at home, minding Margaret and Peter.
They're the little ones.
You mustn'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 first glance.
You look old, but you don't look strong.
It's all the same anyway. We're all available.
But my elder 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 is that I can work every day after school, and all day Saturday.
And you can't pay me less than twelve shillings and six pence a week.
Oh, and to tell me to shut up if I speak too much.
What about your homework?
Oh, I can do that when I get home,
after tea.
I like your cardigan.
Did you knit that 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?
Hm.
They really should be ordered into romance and nature, or something.
Um, is this what you call romance?
Oh, my God.
What are these?
I haven't even see 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 posted through their letterbox!
You're right.
- What...? - Stop looking at them!
You'll be corrupted!
- Where's the bin? - Don't throw them in the bin!
Come on, have a cup of tea.
Why's Christine so late?
Because she's been working for this lady.
Why?
Because she 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, 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.
And for a short time she forgot about everything concerning Mrs. Gamart
and her plans to turn Old House into an arts center.
- Good morning, Mrs. Green. - Hello, Wally.
Thank you for doing me this favor.
Here you are.
Would you like to come on an outing, Christine?
I can't, we've got a 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.
Yeah, I suppose.
It's just that 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.
We must 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.
Hmm...
It seems Violet isn't going to get her own way.
- Has she stopped by here yet? - We haven't been open very long.
She will. She'll appear, eventually.
She's far too much self-respect not to.
Ah! 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've, um, 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'll make you rich, Florence.
Yes but, is it any good? I only stock good novels. They don't move fast, you know?
According to Graham Greene, it is a master piece.
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 round the tin.
I'll put the heater 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 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 could leave it to me in your will.
What?
I don't think I really want 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 traveler.
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 school work or something?
- We could read things together, maybe, or... - There's nothing to read.
They give you some pictures and say: "Which one is the odd one out?"
Or they give some numbers like, um...
...eight, five, eleven, nine, twenty-two and sixteen,
and you have to say which one comes next.
Can'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 gonna try and 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 is about...
good pirates and evil children.
Promise me you'll just at least just...
open it one day.
Well, if you 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 would like to know your sincere opinion of it and ask for a bit of advice:
do you think it is a suitable book to be sold in my bookshop?
Yours sincerely, Florence Green.
P.S. If you do not like the book,
there's no need to pay for it."
Stop it!
Stop it! I surrender!
Hello, Mrs. Gipping. Is everything alright?
I thought you should know as soon as possible.
Mr. Brundish has asked me to deliver him a fruit cake on Sunday.
And he has also asked me to ask you
if you would like to stop by Holt House for tea that same afternoon.
This Sunday?
Why, yes.
Yes.
Yes, all right, I...
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?
Are you having tea at Holt House this Sunday?
- Yes, Mrs. Keble, it is true. - Oh!
Is there something I should know before I go there?
- Mrs. Green. - Mrs. Deben, how's 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.
Oh, no, yes, I've heard.
So, Holt House for tea, eh?
He so jealously guards his privacy
after the tragic death of his beloved wife.
Well, I sell him some books, and, um...
ask for advice about the bookshop.
- Did you, now? - Oh, right.
Well...
Well, I should get back there, I suppose.
- Well, it's tipping down, innit? - Cats and dogs!
- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.
"Advice about the bookshop"?
What does she need advice for?
Hello?
Mr. Brundish?
Come into the dining room.
You asked me a question.
Yes, I did.
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've 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 latest version going around town.
Well, uh,
none that have been circulating are true.
- She didn't drown? - No.
Um...
In the sixth month of our marriage,
we both, having been 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 ever remember her baking a cake in her life.
I suppose for the people of Hardborough it is more picturesque
to imagine Holt House inhabited by a mourning widower.
As you already know, literature has done a lot of damage.
Those damned Bronte 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 imagine there is.
Especially if not everyone approves of it.
There are certain people,
who are rather put out 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 offence to something.
I'm sure that she...
means well.
Means well? Violet Gamart?
That harpy?
What she wants is an...
arts center.
Now I ask you, what the hell does this damned village need with an arts center?
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 am 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 quite wrong.
All I want to know before I put in the order
is whether you think it is a good book,
and whether you think 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've given you my opinion.
Let me tell you what it is I admire
about human beings.
What I value most
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, um...
Lolita.
Yes, thank you.
I mustn't let myself worry. "Where there's life, there's 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.
I'll have Wally bring it round.
Or maybe I will 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 has heard of it.
Though I don't suppose they ever expected to be able to buy it here in Hardborough.
What they won't expect is to find two hundred and fifty copies.
You've really lost your head over this one.
"4th of September, 1959:
Dear Mrs. Green,
I have in my possession a letter from John Drury & Co..."
"...legal representatives 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 of the 5th of September,
I have attempted on two occasions
to approach your shop window,
but found it impossible. People from all around..."
- Understood? - Yes, Mrs. Green.
"Dear Mr. Thornton,
What exactly is your advice, then?
Yours truly, Florence Green."
"I think we should eliminate the agglomeration.
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."
Yes, Mrs. Green.
"Dear Mr. Thornton,
a good book is the precious distillation of a master's 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..."
"Dear Madam, with regard to your request..."
"...we regret to inform you that, after having been duly advised...
It would be best to drop this matter,
as the reported crowds 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.
I mean, look at this, look at this!
- It's absolutely stunning! - Well, I'm not staying here.
What do you mean you're not staying...
Where are you going?
Oh, for goodness sake!
Do you have to just keep storming off like a...?
I'm just sick of people like Violet!
- What? - I can't take it anymore, Milo!
Wait. Just be careful, otherwise you're gonna slip!
Hold on. Wait!
Oh!
What on earth are you doing sitting there, Florence?
I... I don't know why I go out for walks.
Walks are for pensioners, and I should get to work.
Is there room on that step for me?
- Oh, yes, of course. - I'm Kattie, Mrs. Green.
- Florence. - Milo's told me so much about you.
Kattie wouldn't believe that there were any nice spots in Hardborough,
so I brought her out here to see for herself.
And what is it that you do at the BBC, Kattie?
- I work for the RPD... - Oh.
Recorded Programs Department.
Monitoring expenses... Not exactly exciting.
Well...
We've just been for lunch with Violet Gamart.
We gave her a chance to not disapprove of us.
Mrs. Gamart was very kind.
Well, not really.
I don't like kind people.
Yeah, except for Florence.
Don't flatter me.
I get the feeling that you work less and less every day.
Don't forget the BBC is a Corporation,
and that your salary is paid for with public funding.
Kattie deals with that.
She is in charge of my expenses sheet.
Well...
Are you not cold, my darling?
Perhaps it's time we ought to tootle 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, um...
sixteen years ago.
How did you meet?
We met at a bookshop, actually. In London.
We were in love from the first moment,
We had to organize the, um...
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'll never know whether
he's hiding a rich inner world, or...
absolutely nothing.
He will 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 favor of an arts center
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 that town councils can acquire their historic properties
by compulsory purchase for public use.
- Isn't it wonderful? - Oh,
I'm sure your father is smiling down on us from heaven
with great pride at this very moment.
I'm 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!
It's 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 and generous woman, Aunt Vi.
- -MRS. - Carry on with your work.
Heads down.
Eyes down. Keep... On with your work.
No need to get up, children.
I'm the Inspector.
No, you're not.
I'm sorry, I... I don't believe I know you.
Mrs. Traill.
The name is Sheppard.
If you would be so kind, you may examine my certificate
from the Ministry of Education Authority,
which 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,
but 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?
At 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.
I don't want you to think I hold anything against you.
The law is the law.
That's the main thing I came to say.
Experience is important.
The dropouts all say they won't hire us without 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's a wonderful girl, Mrs. Gipping, and I'm...
very, very, very fond of her.
But now she'll have an opportunity to concentrate on her studies.
She doesn't want to give up earning money.
No, of course not, but...
I suppose after what happened at the school, it's...
Well, we've been looking round a bit.
And we hope they'll be hiring her to work on Saturdays at the 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'll 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 present? - Yes.
It's rather difficult not to notice.
I'd dare say things have taken quite a dip
in your business of late, haven't they?
But 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 mustn't worry about that.
How can I not worry?
You can't run this place by yourself.
And no one in this village will help you.
No, I...
I shall manage, absolutely. I... I shall manage.
I do hope you'll come by
from time to time, in the evenings, and...
I won't have the time.
Yes. No.
No, of course you'll be... You'll be busy.
I... 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?
Um...
I... I think you know as well as I do, don't you?
Indeed, I do know. Some of it.
What do you intend to do?
Do?
Is there anything 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. I, um...
You mustn't...
- There's nothing you... - I...
I will have a word with her. I will talk to that woman.
She might just listen. She might...
put an end to this loathsome harassment.
You'd really do that?
Really?
Come out of your seclusion for me?
Indeed I will.
I don't know that it shall 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, um...
noble gesture...
anyone has ever made for me.
You work too hard, Florence.
I try to concentrate. Please, put these down.
They've only just come in and 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 success.
You're too young to bother about dying.
I believe Kattie might snuff it.
She... She wastes so much energy.
How is Kattie?
No idea.
As a matter of fact, she's left me.
She's, uh... She's gone to live with someone else.
In Wantage.
She's...
He works in the World Service.
I'm opening my heart to you.
We are having a special moment, aren't we?
I expect you've told everyone else in Hardborough who'd listen to you.
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 while she was here,
and she was extremely nice with the customers.
Not as nice as I can be.
So, um...
How much can you pay me?
I gave Christine twelve shillings and six pence a week,
and I don't feel able to offer any more than that at the moment.
If you're interested in the job, you may come by
in the afternoons for a few weeks and try it out.
Trial period.
But please only remember I didn't offer you the job.
- You asked yourself. - Has anyone ever told you
you have a marvelous pair of ankles?
Oh, do shut up.
Go home!
"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 here to see people of...
your sort.
Why, um...?
Why are you not helping Mrs. 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,
they'll go after her.
They'll take her to court.
She'll have to swear to tell truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Hm. Well, we must hope that it doesn't come to that.
I never had time to sit around when I was her assistant.
No wonder. You're a child.
Or a woman.
Neither of them have any idea 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.
Um, please, have a seat.
Thank you.
I have come to ask you something.
I don't know if this is the proper way to do so,
but I can't think of a better one.
If you're not in the mood for questions,
you should say so now.
Would you like some tea?
I... I don't want your tea.
I want you to leave Florence Green alone.
- Did she ask you to come see me? - Certainly not.
She's simply a woman who wants to keep a bookshop.
If Mrs. Green has reason to complain,
I suppose she should turn to a solicitor.
Though I believe she's rather given to changing her legal advisors.
The bookshop is draughty, impossible to mortgage a second time,
and, from what I've heard, damp.
Leave her alone. The woman has done nothing to you.
Has it not occurred to you,
as someone who must be extremely concerned
about the welfare and the 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 have 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,
am 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 hadn't made it my business to know,
I would have lost several hundred acres of marshes,
some farming land and two pumping mills.
This is why I am 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...
You should be talking about what I am talking about!
I wish I could do something more.
I assume, then, that you intend to do nothing.
But 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 that 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. Um...
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, but...
Well 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.
He 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 center.
Hm. 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. Hm.
Anyone could suffer an attack like that, if you, uh...
If you think about it. Hm.
You mustn't be late for 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 entire...
Don't ever say his name again.
And forget mine.
But she...
- Violet... - Leave!
So it seems that I have been evicted
by the city of Flintmarket.
As we mentioned during our last phone conversation,
it seems there is a new Parliament bill
l 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...
Well, 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 midwinter it's...
Here is an inspection of the cellars,
according to which,
the property is standing in half an inch of water.
Sorry, wh... What inspection? I...
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.
Oh, your assistant, Mr. Milo North.
Everyone will assume he acted as your servant,
and was following your instructions.
Have you any...
comments?
- No. - 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 just simply thought... I'd best do it.
Oh, if you're looking for a new assistant,
I understand Christine is available.
She, uh... She's no longer working at the new bookshop.
She...
She tried to sell Lolita to... to the vicar!
Florence!
Mrs. Green! Mrs. Green!
- Christine. - Mrs. Green.
Mrs. Green.
Bye.
Mrs. Green...
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 lacquerd tray.
How right she was when she said that no one ever feels alone
in a bookshop.
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