Provided by explosiveskull https://twitter.com/kaboomskull
Once upon a time.
Once upon a time, before the boys were killed.
We had a horse.
A real horse. A racehorse.
A thoroughbred.
Stabled near Newbury.
It never won a damn thing but it was our... indulgence.
Our hope for fame and for glory
on the racecourses of Southern England.
Fandango.
Most of the time, just a name, never seen,
an expensively quartered and trained name.
Except for one mad June morning.
The deal was that Ma and Pa owned the head and the body
and that Dick, Freddy, and I had a leg each.
What about the fourth leg?
Ah, the fourth leg.
That was always the question, Jane.
You've a gorgeous day for it, Jane.
Yes, sir.
A truly gorgeous day.
Don't you think so, my dear?
You know, if someone had told us
it was going to be like this,
we might as well have all packed hampers,
just like we used to,
down by the river.
Picnic.
Don't you think, my dear?
It's March, Godfrey.
Well, yes, yes indeed.
We shall drive to Henley for lunch,
and you, Jane, you and Milly shall have the whole day
to, erm, well,
do as you please.
Thank you, sir.
Just imagine that. Do as you please.
And the Hobdays and the Sheringhams and we Nivens
shall assemble down by the water.
Sounds lovely, sir.
And you, Jane? What will you do?
Good morning, Beechwood House.
Jane?
Is that you?
Yes, madam.
Who was that, Jane?
Wrong number, sir.
Really? On a Sunday?
It happens.
Well, Jane,
before you go...
Here.
You're very kind, sir.
- You have a lovely day, Jane. - Thank you.
Milly will take the first bicycle
to the station presumably.
Yes. And then onto her mother's.
Oh, yes. Quite. Quite.
And you?
If I may so, I'll just take myself off.
That is on the second bicycle.
As you say, it's such a lovely day.
Lovely day, yes, quite.
Yes, I thought you might. Certainly.
Certainly, that's what I'd do. Left to my own devices.
Take a book, Jane, if you like.
You're very kind, sir.
It's your day, Jane.
Imagine that, the whole county at your disposal.
Thank you, sir.
Perfect day for it. Perfect day.
Consider yourself free to go.
To my mother's? Freedom is not the word.
It's a beautiful day, Milly.
Jesus, I hate it when you're cheerful.
I'm being left to my own devices all day long.
"Devices"?
Mmm. I'll even set you off,
I can cycle the first bit with you.
Why? Where are you off to?
Come on, Milly!
What do you think I'm doing?
We've only got 20 minutes till your train goes.
A whole day with a book, Milly.
Oh, to be motherless on Mothering Sunday.
She'll have cooked a lovely side of beef,
her famous potatoes.
Oh, God, roast beef in this heat?
She'll fuss over you something rotten.
- She will not. - She will.
She'll not shut up about a lack of husband.
She'll have a million stories of a nice young girl
who married a nice young lad in the village.
Million?
Despite a bloody war having killed off my only chance.
I'd say that's a spectacularly
good excuse for being husbandless.
Try telling her that.
And then God forbid I mention him, God forbid,
do you know if I talk about him,
if I dare mention my lad's name...
Here, can we stop a second?
Doesn't it look pretty?
Do you suppose they tell one another the truth?
What? Who? Who tells who the truth?
I was just thinking about all of them
assembling for the necessary lunch today.
The Nivens. The Sheringhams. The Hobdays.
What on earth they say to one another now?
Oh, well, the wedding, I suppose, hmm.
I suppose.
- How many days left again? - Eleven.
I think.
It's nice to have a wedding.
Yes.
It's nice to have a little joy.
You're right. A little joy goes a long way.
You can tell your ma at least someone's getting married.
Oh, yes, that will cheer her right up.
Have you met my mother?
Sometimes I feel as though I have, yes, Mill.
Well, maybe you'll acquire one on the train. Husband, I mean.
You never know. Some sort of rambler.
Tall, dark, handsome.
Strong arms.
How do you know about strong arms?
Why are strong arms so excellent?
Wait for me, then. If it's my husband we're finding...
Wait, bloody hell, Jane!
Hurry up!
Slow down!
Eleven o'clock.
Not the back path, Jay. Front door.
Oh.
Just behind the door. He was waiting.
Not met like this before.
No, madam.
Good morning, Beechwood House.
Jay? Is that you?
Yes, madam.
The Shower will be leaving here for this picnic.
I'll be on my own. Eleven o'clock.
Not the back path, Jay. Front door.
I'm terribly sorry, madam, but you have the wrong number.
Well, do you approve?
Poor bloody shower.
- Who came up with that again? - What?
Calling your parents "The Shower"?
I don't know. Dick or Freddy
made it up and it sort of stuck.
Why're you called Jane Fairchild?
It's a good name.
That it is.
Plenty of Janes at the orphanage.
Nobody ever deposited
a Scarlet or a Laetitia on the steps.
Many Janes, many Fairchilds, Goodchilds, Goodbodys.
Suppose they wanted to give us something tangible and...
good.
I think Jane Fairchild suits you very well.
Thank you.
My mother's precious orchids.
Even she recognised the importance
of a little light in all this gloom.
We're not here to look at pissing flowers, Jane.
No time for that.
This way.
- Excuse me, please. - Sorry.
You're the new girl. At Beechwood.
I'm at Upleigh. The Sheringhams.
I'm Jane.
Ethel.
- Mr Sheringham. - Hello.
Who's your friend then?
Er, this is Jane, sir. New girl at Beechwood.
Hmm.
Hello.
You're looking after the Nivens?
Yes, sir.
Very dear friends of mine, the Nivens.
I'll see a great deal of you, I'm sure.
Yes, sir.
Nice to meet you, Jane.
You have a lovely day.
You, too, sir.
He's one of the good ones.
Always like that.
Like what?
Friendly.
I'm sure.
Bye.
Nice to meet you.
There.
Good.
Yes.
- What are you doing? - Stand there.
Stay still.
Why? What are you doing?
Studying.
That's my reason for showing up late.
"I'll meet you there.”
"Awful lot to get through, must work, must work."
Mugging up on law books, Jay.
And I'm here to help you study?
No.
You're what I intend to study today.
- I'm law books, am I? - Hmm.
You're slightly more interesting than law books.
If I could apply this level of detailed attention,
I fear I could be enormously successful.
And what are you supposed to be doing?
What've you told those dear Nivens
you're doing with your day?
A bike ride.
Apt.
I'll try to provide brilliant views
and excellent road surfaces.
And a picnic.
And a book in a field.
What a perfect sounding day, Jay.
Do you rather wish you were doing that instead?
No.
Not currently.
There.
Good.
Perfect.
What's this?
Hidden treasure?
A gift from Mr Niven.
Don't move.
Jay.
No.
Have I offended you?
No. I just...
I don't want that.
The money?
So I should pay you in books instead?
Not to pay me at all, that's the point.
I'm spending for three, Jay.
Got to throw this money somewhere.
I wish I could take you out.
Champagne and oysters.
And all the books you wanted.
One day maybe.
Slow.
The bells.
Must be a wedding. I wonder whose.
People do love a wedding.
I've heard that said.
I have to meet her in an hour, Jane.
At the Swan.
Godfrey, for goodness sake.
We're late, my dear.
Certainly at the pace you drive, we will be.
Please, Clarrie, a little more haste.
There we are.
You know I can't bear to be late.
It hardly matters.
It's just a lunch. Just yet another lunch.
Emma!
Emma, we'll be late.
Gripping your door won't have any actual effect
on the speed of the car, Mother.
Daddy drives about ten times as fast,
you barely bat an eyelid.
- I'm an excellent driver. - Emma, I didn't say anything.
- You didn't have to. - Sweetheart.
I can feel your judgement.
Eyes on the road, darling.
Shut up, Daddy.
Dick, Freddy!
Wait!
Come on, then, hurry up, fool!
When we were boys, we'd go to Henley
all the time for picnics.
All of us.
I don't remember it ever being arranged,
though, of course, it was between the elderly tribes.
Of course they had it all planned out.
Got on the phone to one another,
or sometimes Pa would hand over a written invitation
to picnic at Henley by The Swan that next day.
Anyway, somehow,
we'd all meet there at just the right time
in a way that felt just like magic,
and all of us,
us three and the Niven two and Emma
would all be so terribly delighted.
"You're here, how come you're here?"
And the parents would wink and shrug their shoulders
and squeeze our cheeks or ruffle our hair.
And then they'd lie there on the banks
with their hampers, and their backs to us
and we'd climb into that river
and swim and dive and loll about on boats,
and Mrs Niven,
dear Mrs Niven,
she'd wade into the water with us.
My lot'd be stretched out
drinking champagne and eating lobster,
gabbing on about business
or the neighbours or the nanny.
And she'd...
Lady Niven'd be racing us across the water
like an Oxford sculler, like a goddess.
She beat us all, every time.
Of course, the others got too big for it.
Freddy and Dick would bicycle over to see Philip
and James had his head in books, in books...
Till he noticed Emma, of course.
And I just...
I just wanted everyone to keep playing.
I'll be late.
I won a heat.
More or less, singlehandedly, I must say.
No-one could keep up with her.
You won a heat.
- On your own? - It was magnificent.
Yes, on my own actually.
We have an immense trophy.
Emma, those glasses are absolutely adorable, so racy.
You know, it's going to brighten up.
I think we should get the boat out.
Yes, I think so, too.
Have a re-run, don't you think?
I should go.
But Emma'|| be late.
She's always late.
Only your Nivens were ever on time.
They love an excuse to sink a cocktail before lunch,
so no bother really.
I hurt you.
Yes.
But a good pain.
Ache.
But a good one.
What's that?
So my seed doesn't get anywhere near you.
Your seed?
Yes, absolutely, my seed.
For planting.
To ensure there is absolutely no planting.
What if we put it in the ground?
- My seed? - Yes.
If we planted it and we grew it
and we watered it and we pruned it.
There will be absolutely
no pruning anywhere near my...
We plough the fields and scatter
The good seed on the land
And it is fed and watered
By God's almighty hand
Your good seed.
Nowhere near your good,
good land.
I always wonder.
Why is there a, erm,
on the...
Hmm?
Doesn't it all go in?
Milly!
How many ways are there to make that happen?
Well, how am I supposed to know?
I can only think of three.
Well, then maybe there are only three ways.
We never had more than a kiss,
my lad and me.
Freddy Sheringham.
Dick Sheringham.
Now then, Paul,
how's it all going with your studies?
Oh, don't ask.
Oh, stop it, he's doing wonderfully.
- Thank you, Mother. - Of course he is.
Ladies, you're too kind.
My father thinks I've as much chance
of becoming a lawyer as becoming a...
an actual bloody lawyer.
It's going well, dear Nivens, well.
I'm enjoying my studies immensely, and of course,
although I'm terribly excited about qualifying and working
and being busy lawyering in London,
I shall really, truly miss these days of learning.
Yes, I'm sure.
Well, you've a good attitude, Paul.
These days of studying,
of mind expanding,
of feeling just as my father
must have felt when he was studying,
of how my brothers might have felt...
Thank you, Paul.
I enjoyed my time in London very much.
I'm sure you shall, too, Paul.
I'm very lucky.
This fish is quite excellent.
It's very good, isn't it?
Catch it yourself, did you?
Don't be absurd.
Godfrey couldn't catch a fish if it swam into his open arms.
They eating everything?
Well, they're talking about the food,
I'm not sure how much they're actually eating it.
- Oh, what's she wearing? Mmm. - Emma?
This vermilion thing.
She looks bored.
Don't bloody blame her.
No, but really bored. Down to her bones.
Well, when'|| they be ready for this lamb then?
Knowing them, half an hour?
You're spending a lot of time in there.
I'm just being attentive, Milly.
Congratulations!
Something to celebrate.
Congratulations.
Congratulations, Emma.
Jane, I've got to get married.
I've got to become a lawyer.
That's what's expected of you, yes.
Get married and have children.
Yes.
I could have hundreds of children.
Repopulate the village with little boys.
You might have to bet on slightly fewer horses.
True.
Emma was supposed to marry James.
They never got officially engaged.
He was good like that.
Decent.
Didn't want to leave her waiting for him.
Pining.
Though that's all she did anyway.
Made it worse somehow when he didn't come back.
She couldn't mourn her fiancé.
Had to pretend he was just another friend
killed in the war.
He liked to read to her.
You'd have liked him, too.
He'd have encouraged you reading all that boy rot.
All that Treasure Island and spy rubbish.
I like you.
I can tell you all my secrets.
All the things nobody says.
You're my friend, Jane.
Hmm.
And you mine.
My true friend.
What a glorious day it's turned out to be.
Quite perfect.
You see, I had a feeling.
Just pour it, would you?
He'll be forever yet.
We should just sit here
whilst we wait for him to bother to turn up?
And he's studying, is he?
Mugging up. That's what he calls it.
Oh, good for him.
Good for him.
We're happy to wait a little longer for him.
Emma's right,
he'll be late.
Well, it's jolly dedicated of him.
- Indeed. - Exactly. Pour it.
Imagine if she'd come here.
What would she have said?
Miss Hobday?
She'd have seen the open window, called up.
Not climbed up?
Emma's not that type of girl, Jay.
She'd have seen my bike first.
Of course.
You are clever.
She'd have shouted.
Marched up here, screaming.
Or perhaps she'd have said nothing
and crept up here, furious.
Catching us in the act?
Maybe not even that.
Perhaps she did come here
and we didn't hear her car on the gravel below.
Because I was fucking you.
And she stops.
She doesn't switch her engine off immediately.
She looks at the bike,
leaning up by the door, confused.
You don't ride a bike.
If you did, you definitely wouldn't
ride that bike, that's an old bike.
She looks up,
she sees your window open.
She goes to call out, she opens her mouth to call out,
but she stops herself.
She opens the door...
slowly, quietly.
She looks at those orchids,
bright in that dark hall.
She doesn't know why,
but something tells her to slip out of her shoes.
She pads up the stairs... soft.
And your door is open.
She hears you.
She hears me.
She stops.
She thinks about that white dress
hanging up in her wardrobe.
"And she turns around.
"Soft, on one toe, walks back down the stairs,
"slipping back into shoes
"and driving away, never to speak of it."
You did not say that, though.
No.
I did not say that, though.
I know a doctor.
I'm sure you do.
I'm sure you know lots of interesting people.
No. One who can...
get you a cap, Jay.
Removes the problem of the seed.
Ah.
If you like.
- But only if you like, though. - A cap?
That's what they're called.
I suppose that's what my mother was. A pregnant maid.
Perhaps.
Perhaps she was a queen, Jay.
Don't be too cross with him, Emma. He loves you very much.
We're all so excited for the wedding.
You're making us all so happy.
He's in his head sometimes.
Well, he's been studying so hard,
he will have lost track of time...
He never studies. He's not studying. He's just late.
I'm not cross. It's only lunch.
He's always late. Why would today be any different?
It's fine.
Excuse me.
You look very handsome.
Don't hurry.
No-one'll be back 'til past four, at least.
And when you go, put the key
under the rock by the boot scraper.
It's a whacking great key.
I'll put it out on the hall table
So you can't miss it.
That's all really.
Leave everything.
If you're hungry, there's a pie.
Half one.
I can always tell Ethel I scoffed it.
Not that I have to tell anyone anything.
Anything.
Anything at all.
Goodbye, Jane.
- I'm stuck. - Huh?
I'm going to be late.
You're never late.
Well, I'm about to be.
That's because you're being unfaithful.
Morag is expecting a thriller.
Maud, her name is Maud.
I don't care.
I do. I remember your publisher's name.
She always has spinach in her teeth. Always.
Even if we're not eating spinach. Even if there's no...
That has nothing to do with her name.
Well, Maud is expecting a thriller.
That's what I'm writing.
It's not what you're thinking about, though, is it?
It just swims back every so often.
Do you have any idea what it is yet?
Is it a minnow
or is it a whale?
Somewhere in between.
Walk?
No.
Swim.
Don't do it.
Excuse me?
I was joking.
You looked like you were about to
do an Ophelia.
Are you allowed to speak to me like that?
Like what?
Like I've read Shakespeare?
Think so.
I used to swim in there.
When I was a girl.
So did I
When I was a boy.
So did everyone.
It suddenly felt rather appealing.
No-one does any more.
Dick and Freddy.
Or Freddy and Dick.
Slow down.
No-one ever asked anybody to dress more slowly.
I like watching men dress.
You're doing it in the wrong order.
It's nonsense.
Any other order would be ridiculous.
Shirt and no pants would lead to immediate loss of dignity.
- Solemn piecing together. - Is how posh white men dress.
You've been too long in service, Jane.
You know, that's why you're a writer.
Because you were put in service at 14.
Because you were made an occupational observer of life.
Hmm.
- I don't like your room. - Okay.
Smells of damp.
The whole house does.
I can come to your room.
Mrs O'Flynn doesn't like you.
Well, no.
Women like Mrs O'Flynn don't like men like me.
We could go somewhere else.
A new house.
With a room for you to do your writing.
One for me to philosophise in, I don't know.
- Donald? - Yes, Jane?
Are you suggesting we get married?
Well...
I was suggesting...
that... we live together.
So, yes, I suppose
I was suggesting that we get married.
I mean, I would like to marry you.
I mean, that would make me very happy indeed.
What do you think?
All right, then.
Jane?
What?
You cracked it yet?
Oh, fuck off, Donald.
"On the occasion of the marriage...
"Emma Carrington Hobday with Mr Paul Sheringham."
Now then.
Now that we are all
well-fed and well-watered
and continue to water
by the water...
Godfrey, for goodness sake.
I would like to propose a toast.
Well-met, our tribes. Well-met and well-loved.
Clarrie and I, my wife and I...
are so happy to be here with you all.
Hear, hear.
And with your children
who have been so good
as to feel like our children.
Godfrey.
Even if one of them is not bloody here...
They're all not fucking here, they're all fucking gone!
We just wanted to wish you well.
We just wanted to wish you very well.
To the bride.
And to the absent groom.
Oh.
Mr Niven.
I was just finishing up in here, I'll leave you in peace.
That's all right.
I'll come back later.
"I will begin
"the story of my adventures..."
Can I help you?
Perhaps, yes, erm,
I'm looking for something for my mother.
Does your mother like philosophy?
No. These are for me.
You speak German?
I do.
- Love And Saint Augustine. - Sorry?
That's the title of the book.
Oh.
Would your mother prefer fiction?
Probably, yes.
Does she read a lot?
Of course.
What about Orlando by Virginia Woolf?
It's the most extraordinary adventure.
Putting you through. Hold the line, please.
And you write. You're a writer.
You seem like a writer.
- Do I? - Mmm.
Yes, I write.
Good.
You're not a writer.
Not in the way you are.
Philosophy. It's not very interesting.
Sounds very interesting.
That bodes well.
And when did you become a writer,
Miss Jane Fairchild?
I don't know.
Yes, you do.
All right.
- Three times over. - Okay.
The day I was born.
The day Mr Paxton gave me my typewriter.
Of course.
And the third?
That's a secret.
That's a very good answer.
That's the best one.
Mr Niven.
Jane. Is that you?
You're back so early.
Mr Niven?
I'm so sorry, Jane, I'm...
It's... It's so terribly distressing.
There's been an accident. A fatal accident.
Involving Mr Sheringham.
Mr Sheringham?
Mr Paul Sheringham.
Mr Paul at Upleigh.
A car accident.
It's definitely him, sir?
I'm so sorry, Jane.
I'm so sorry to have to tell you this.
I...
I thought I ought to go to...
to Upleigh
to check that nothing there can further upset...
That Paul... That Mr Sheringham, erm,
that he didn't leave anything.
Any more distress would be unbearable, I think.
It was an accident, Jane.
An accident.
Yes, sir.
Someone has to wait there, at the house.
Inform the staff.
Awful for the Sheringhams to do it.
Awful to repeat the words, Jane.
Will you come with me?
To Upleigh?
Yes, of course.
I'm so sorry.
Might I fetch a glass of water first, sir?
Yes, of course. Forgive me. I'll wait here.
It's all right, Jane.
Mr Niven?
- Ethel. You're back. - Yes, sir.
There's nobody here, sir. Can I help?
I'm afraid I have some distressing news.
There's been an accident involving Mr Sheringham.
Mr Paul.
A car accident on his way to Henley to join us for lunch.
We were making enquires as to why he was so late
and a police officer informed that his car,
the wreckage that is,
had been found on the turning before the railway line.
He was late. Anxious, no doubt.
Then it is just as well I came back early.
I can be of assistance now.
Yes, indeed, Ethel.
I felt when I arrived I had just missed him, sir.
The library had been recently used,
a cigarette very recently lit.
I've tidied already, sir,
the pie and the beer he had for lunch
and, erm,
and his bedroom.
That is just the point, Ethel.
The point, sir?
Did you find anything in Mr Paul's room?
Anything, sir? I don't understand.
A note, Ethel. Anything written.
No, sir. Nothing like that.
Of course.
Very good.
That is all right, then, Ethel.
That's all five of them, Jane.
Yes, sir.
- No. Don't. - It's bleeding again.
I feel fine. Can we please just eat our food?
- Can we please go to a doctor? - Your hands are freezing.
You tripped, you fell,
- you hit your head... - I know.
- ...you're bleeding. - It was just a trip.
I can see the bone in your knee!
You are being dramatic.
- I'm not. - You are.
Have you ever been to Upleigh, Jane?
No, madam.
Not before today, with Mr Niven.
It's terribly dark.
When Philip died
and James had already gone,
I suddenly felt like we could open the curtains.
That we weren't living with guilt.
That we had lost everything we could possibly lose.
That all our dying was done with.
We didn't have to...
keep cover any longer.
Nothing to protect, Jane.
Does that make any sense?
Yes, madam.
She was supposed to marry James.
Yes, madam.
You knew that?
Milly mentioned it.
Did she?
Wouldn't have thought so. She's so terribly stupid.
She notices nothing.
Must have heard it somewhere else.
You have no family.
No, madam.
Your mother left you, is that right?
Yes, madam, at an orphanage.
How very lucky...
to have been comprehensively bereaved at birth.
You have absolutely nothing to lose.
And you never shall. Not really.
That is a gift, Jane.
And you must learn to use it.
You're very fortunate.
You have nothing.
Nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Comprehensively bereaved at birth.
Once upon a time.
Once,
a very, very, very long time ago, Jay,
Ma woke us all, early in June,
really early, it was still dark,
and bundled us all into the car, Jane.
Bundled.
Blankets around us, hot chocolate in flasks.
They packed a picnic.
Pa was driving with his foot all the way to the floor.
Wide open roads and the sun coming up.
The three of us squashed in
and the other two snoring half the way.
Still no mention as to where we were going
and then we stop here.
Except you have to imagine it with no frost.
No snow.
And the green, green grass perfectly clipped.
Except you can imagine it, can't you?
You can summon the memory.
You can describe it.
Claim it.
Reword it and reimagine it for me.
Can't you, Jane?
For me.
For you.
I'm getting a new one, Jane.
A new one, Mr Paxton?
Yes. New typewriter.
The "P" jams a little.
In a way, it's perfectly fine
and I thought you might have use for this one.
Thank you, sir.
- A tumour? - It's a good word.
- No. - Good sound.
- No. - To swell.
That's where it comes from.
That's the origin of the word, the, erm,
etymology, that's what I'm trying to say.
Could you just...
It's because I've got too much brain.
I'm too brainy.
It's poetic.
When are they going to operate to get it out?
You came in about the fall. About the cut.
I don't understand...
They're very thorough.
Do you want them to ignore it?
Yes.
Please, ignore it.
Maybe we can try to.
Just for the last bit.
You'll write.
You'll write this book about life,
the whole feeling of life.
Think I've lost all sense of that.
You will.
It'll be your greatest book.
You don't think I've written my greatest book yet?
Maybe all the men in my life have to die
in order for me to write my great book.
I'm so sad I shan't get to read it.
Maybe I won't be able to write it.
You shall.
It'll be brilliant.
- Good morning, Jane. - Good morning, sir.
Jane?
Sir.
What is it?
I've been thinking it might be time for me to leave, sir.
I've heard of a position.
Mmm.
In another house?
In a bookshop, sir.
Hmm.
Well done, Jane.
A bookshop.
Tell me your secret.
The third thing that made you write.
Please.
I wish we had told each other everything.
There wouldn't have been time.
Just whisper it.
I'll take it to my grave.
I love you.
- Miss Fairchild... - Miss Fairchild,
could you comment please?
Anything to say, Miss Fairchild?
I'm afraid I really don't know what you want me to say.
Well, I suppose, because you've won...
I've won all the prizes.
Every single one.
They're all here, in the attic,
in there somewhere.
Aren't you pleased?
I feel... delighted.
Thank you so much.
I've disappointed you, haven't I?
No.
It was inevitable.
The task was impossible.
But it was...
wonderful.
Ah, the fourth leg.
The fourth leg was mine, Paul.
And we stand at the rail, all five of us.
One, two, three, four, five.
We stand and we watch them race,
we watch Fandango fly.
We watch him kick up mud and dew and grass and earth.
And it feels like he is flying.
It feels like he might actually fly.
Across the quick, quick green and the world.