The Deep Blue Sea

This is the BBC Home Centre.

Good morning, everyone.

Before the weather forecast, there are gale warnings

for the sea areas Malin and South Finisterre.

It is the official general weather forecast...

Mrs Elton. Mrs Elton.

-Yes, Mr Welch? -I think it's coming from up here.

What, from number three? Well, I'll just come up.

-What's the matter? -Escape of gas, darling.

Don't light a match or anything, will you?

-Well, it's not us, I know that. -No, it's in here.

Is there any answer? Mr Page! Mrs Page?

It's all right, I've got the pass key.

Ooh, ooh, it's here, all right.

They must have left something on. Wicked waste.

Be careful, Mrs Elton. Put something over your mouth.

It's not as bad as that. Expect it's coming from the kitchen.

Left his cooker on all night, I shouldn't be surprised.

Comes in late, a bit the worse for you know what.

Makes himself a cup of tea and turns on all the taps in sight.

Oh, my God! Mrs Elton!

Someone will blow this whole house up one of these days.

Mrs Elton, quick, get a doctor or someone.

Oh, heavens!

-Now where does this thing turn off? -Oh, Mrs Page! Mrs Page!

Here, she's not dead, is she?

I don't know. Look, it won't turn off. I can't turn it off.

Oh, here, here, let me, let me.

-It is off, it wasn't on. -Well, it must have been.

It's the meter then, it's switched itself off at the meter.

Help me get her to the sofa. You take her feet.

Oh, the poor thing.

Oh, why did she have to go and do it?

What's the point in doing a thing like this?

This will bring the police.

In 2 3 years, Mr Elton and me have never had a speck of trouble in these flats.

And now... Mrs Page, of all people.

Philip, are you in there? -Yes, don't come in.

We'll be late for the office.

Well, you go on, tell them I'll get there as soon as I can.

-Is anything wrong? -Look, I said not to come in.

Oh, she's breathing.

-Where is the nearest doctor? -Er, Dr Brown.

No! No, he's on his holiday and... Oh, I know, Mr Miller, I'll get him.

-Mr Miller upstairs, you mean? Yes.

-But he's not a doctor. (SHOUTING) Mr Miller!

She's hysterical, Philip. Mr Miller is not a doctor.

-You've seen this? Aspirin, empty. -Oh, Lord.

And here's the glass. Must have ground them in there, look.

She must have wanted to dope herself before the gas.

No, the gas was off. The tap was turned on but the gas was off.

It must have run out at the meter.

-Where's her husband? -I don't know.

The bed hasn't been slept in.

-We ought to get hold of him, somehow. -Yes, but how?

(WHISPERING) She's opened her eyes.

Mrs Page? Mrs Page.

Poor Freddie!

It's all right, Mrs Page. Everything is all right now.

Poor Freddie! Poor darling. Freddie!

Don't worry, Mrs Page. You mustn't worry.

You're among friends.

We found this.

She came to, a moment ago.

How many?

How many?

Twelve.

-Where's the bathroom? -In there.

Help me, please.

-A glass of hot water please, Mrs Elton. -Yes, straightaway.

Bring my case, please.

Hadn't you better get on to the office, darling?

Look, it's all right for me but I don't like the idea of you being late.

They'll understand, there's never much in on Mondays.

After all, a suicide doesn't happen every day.

Let's hope it's just attempted suicide.

Poor soul, I wonder what made her do it.

Freddie? That's her husband, I suppose.

I've seen his letter downstairs, Fredrick Page Esquire.

-I've never liked the look of him. -She said, "Poor, darling Freddie."

That doesn't sound as if he'd deserted her or anything.

Then, where is he?

Husbands do, you know, occasionally go off on business

without taking their wives.

-Yes, of course. -What?

A suicide note.

-Who is it addressed to? -Freddie.

-Should we open it? -No, it may be wanted by the police.

-The police. Oh, dear. -I suppose we ought to ring them up.

It is sordid business, isn't it, a suicide?

I wonder if they think of that when they do it.

Police and coroners and things.

We ought to get in touch with somebody, though.

God, I wish her husband would come back.

Now that letter proves that he hadn't deserted her, she was expecting him.

Put it back exactly where you found it, darling.

-I did. -No, only a bit of it was showing.

It was half hidden, behind that clock.

-How is she? -Oh, he didn't say.

But she's looking better. He's given her an injection.

I've got to make some black coffee.

Oh, some here already. I'll warm it up.

Mrs Elton, we ought to get hold of Mr Page.

-Do you have any idea where he might be? -No, I can't say I have.

Well, does he go away often?

Oh, now and then. Not for more than a night usually.

-Well, where does he work? -Oh, I don't know.

Something to do with aeroplanes. Or used to be.

-Selling them? -Oh, no, flying them, I think.

Test pilot. Isn't that what they call it?

-Do you know for which company? -No.

She must have some relations in London we can get hold of.

Yes. Mrs Elton, has Mrs Page any relations in London?

No, always kept herself very much to herself, Mrs Page.

She must have had visitors?

Hardly at all. And they always asked for him.

-What were their names? -Oh, I can't remember.

Do try and help, Mrs Elton, this is desperately important.

Well, I'm sorry Mr Welch, it's a shock.

Yes, yes, of course. But now, look, Mrs Elton, think hard.

Do you know of anyone connected with Mrs Page

that we might get into touch with?

-Solicitor, bank manager? -Well, there is her husband, of course.

Yes, I know, but we haven't an idea where he is.

Oh, I don't mean...

No, I can't think of anyone.

Mrs Elton, what did you mean by, "There is her husband"?

Isn't Mr Page her husband?

-What's her real name? -I haven't said anything.

Now, look, Mrs Elton, if the police come round

this will all have to come out anyway.

Now you don't need to tell us anything you don't want to

but I do think that if you know her real husband,

we ought to tell him what's happened.

I don't know her real husband.

And what I do know,

I promised faithfully that I wouldn't tell a living soul.

It was all because I picked up her ration book one day,

and then she told me straight out all about it.

How she hadn't been able to get herself a divorce. Poor lamb.

She thought Mr Elton would turn her out.

As if I'd tell Mr Elton a thing like that.

I'm sure I'm right now, Philip.

This man Page has deserted her and she had no one to turn to.

So, you think I ought to tell her husband about this?

Oh, yes, Mrs Elton, it seems to me the only thing to do.

All right. Well, you do it 'cause I wouldn't know how.

Her name is Collyer.

C-O-L-L-Y-E-R.

And her husband's name is in the papers quite often, she showed me once.

They call him Mr Justice Collyer.

So, I suppose he's a judge.

-Sir William Collyer? -That's right.

Gosh.

Do you think you dare, Phillip?

I don't see why not.

Here we are. Collyer, William. There are two.

One's in Chiswick. Eaton Square, that's the one.

9:15. We ought to get him at his home.

Whatever you do, don't tell him you work at the Home Office.

Hello. Can I speak to Sir William Collyer, please?

No, I'd rather not give my name.

Just tell him, it's very urgent indeed and that it concerns his wife.

I'll wait.

Hello? Sir William Collyer?

Yes, I'm afraid I have some very serious news for you.

You wife has been concerned in an accident.

Well, it's rather difficult to tell you on the telephone.

Gas poisoning and an overdose of drugs.

No, but very ill.

No, she doesn't know I'm telephoning.

He's not here.

2 7 Waybridge Villas, Ladbroke Grove.

Flat number three.

-Did he seem upset? -He asked if Page was here.

I've rung him up, Mrs Elton. He's coming around.

Well, I only hope we've done the right thing.

-I think we have. -How is she?

Well, she drank her coffee quite peacefully.

Mrs Elton, don't you think we ought to get her a proper doctor?

I've got far more faith in Mr Miller than in any proper doctor, thank you.

Here we are.

Will you be wanting me for anything more?

No, Mrs Elton.

I'll leave this door on the latch.

Are you friends of hers?

My name is Welch. I live upstairs in number five. This is my wife.

There's nothing you can do now.

You don't mean she's dying?

On the contrary... -She'll recover?

Sixty grains of aspirin are not enough to kill a child.

And the symptoms of gas poisoning are very slight.

That's because the gas gave out at the meter.

Yes.

She couldn't have made a worse mess of it if she tried.

I must go back to my breakfast

and I'm sure there's no reason for us staying here any longer.

But is she really all right?

After 24 hours in the bed, she will be completely recovered.

Yes, her body but what about her mind?