(upbeat folk music) (thunder rumbling) (rain pattering) (clock ticking) (thunder rumbling) (signal clanking) (train whistle tooting) - Oh, I missed him!

- He hasn't started yet.

- [Audience] Shh!

- Any minute now.

- [Audience Member] Shh.

- Julia.

Do the curtains.

(curtains squeaking) Ladies and gentlemen, Frankie Brice.

(piano gently tinkling) (Frankie singing in foreign language) - Och, man, would you listen to that?

- I'm listening.

I am listening.

- I definitely want a piece of this action, Barney.

- Sure, honey.

Sure.

It would take an angel to beat that.

An angel.

(cane tapping) - You all right, Mr. McClintock.

Something in your eye?

- Only a tear, Hamish, only a tear.

You know, I thought I had a hard life until I met that poor boy.

My life has been full of good fortune compared with the life and times of blind boy Tusker Gray.

- [Hamish] Blind boy?

- [Mr. McClintock] He was an orphan, Hamish.

He was raised in a home.

He had to endure a life of pain and desertion.

"When people came for children to take them for their own, "they always took some other child and I was left alone."

Those were his very words, Hamish.

- Left alone, eh?

Will you sing along with Hamish, eh, Mr. McClintock?

♪ The people come for children ♪ ♪ To take them for their own ♪ ♪ But they all seem to pass me by ♪ ♪ And I am left alone ♪ ♪ Now I know that they would take me ♪ ♪ But when they see I'm blind ♪ On you go.

♪ They always take some other child and I am left behind ♪ - That's "Nobody's Child," Hamish.

- Did blind boy Tusker Gray have a ticket?

- Hey, you!

Come back here, you wee toerag!

- Who?

Me?

- Aye, you're right, Rory.

26 years, man.

26 years of eating humble pie and watching a Dunbracken boy walk off with the Willie McGraw Memorial Trophy.

- 26 years watching the regulars at the Dunbracken Arms walk off with the annual wager.

But not this year, boy.

This year is our turn!

- Aye.

(gentle music) - I think you and I should have a wee chat.

- About what?

- About the kind of lowlife that goes around pretending to be blind just so he can dodge his train fare.

- Lighten up, eh?

What's his name?

- Never mind his name.

What if an inspector had come on?

You don't have a ticket.

Mr. McClintock could have been signing on come Monday.

You think of that?

- What if?

What if?

Thanks to me that guy was feeling good about hisself.

He was enjoying that warm glow you get when you help the less fortunate.

Then you go and spoil it for him.

- Me?

What, I spoiled it for the man?

I'm not the one going around pretending to be blind.

- Take it easy, eh?

You'll hurt my ears.

- I'll be kicking your backside in a minute if you give me any more of your cheek.

It was out of order, pal, it was offensive.

- Offensive to who?

- [Hamish] To blind people!

- How are they gonna know what I'm doing if I'm blind, pal?

- Well, somebody might tell them.

This is a small village.

Something like that can, you know...

But, that's not the issue, is it?

I mean, it's the ethics of the thing, that's the point.

- Look, you caught me fair and square.

So either toss me in the jug or let it rest.

But spare me the sermon.

'Cause, frankly, you're no' very good at it.

- Well, it is still an option, you know.

The jug.

Unless I get your word there's no more blind boy Tusker Gray.

- Solemn promise.

Okay?

- Okay.

(gentle music) His name's Jock.

(gentle upbeat music) (doors creaking) - Hello, Jean.

- Thanks for coming up, Thomas.

- This is the best day ever, Lachie.

I'm gonna sing for Lochdubh and Cnothan.

- [Lachie] Just as long as you win for Lochdubh and Cnothan.

Now, come on out.

There's someone here to see you.

- Who?

- Hello, Frankie.

- Tusker!

Tusker!

Nobody said you were coming.

Not a word!

Not a dicky bird.

Who won last time out?

- Me.

Double or quits?

- Post office on the corner.

- On.

- [Frankie] Go!

(upbeat music) (dog barking) - [Hamish] Jock!

Jock!

- Thanks for collecting him, Hamish.

He must have been very impressed to get picked up in the police van.

- Uh, no.

I don't think there's that much will impress that kid.

How'd you get on at the school?

- Well, put it this way, if we don't beat Dunbracken this year, we'll never beat them.

Frankie's our new surprise talent.

And Esme's done a fantastic job with him.

- [Hamish] All right, Jock?

(dog barking) - Who won?

- A draw, I'd say.

Come on, let's get Thomas inside.

(birds cawing) (Frankie singing in foreign language on stereo) (Barney breathing deeply) (stereo button clicks) - That, ladies and gentlemen, was the honey-sweet voice of young Frank Brice.

Discovered and trained by our own delectable Esme here.

To represent us against Dunbracken for the Willie McGraw Memorial Trophy.

So, what did you think of him?

- Well, I think I'll have a tenner on him.

- 10 to one!

10 for the Doc.

20 to you, Steve.

(all chattering) Tenner for Duncan.

Maggie, fiver for you.

Right you are.

- Well, there's something bothering you.

I can tell.

Have you heard from Isobel or something?

- No, no, it's not that.

It's that wee pal of Frankie's, that Tusker.

Something not right with the boy, John.

- What do you mean?

- I caught him up to a bit of mischief, I came the heavy copper.

He acted like he couldn't care less.

- Well, maybe he could see through your act.

(Frankie singing in foreign language on stereo) - I don't know.

Maybe I'm losing my touch.

- Well, while you ponder on that, I'll go and get the bets on.

- Here, John.

Stick a tenner on for me, yeah?

- Sorry I'm late.

- How'd it go?

- Oh, fine, you know.

- Thomas.

- Business, Mr. McRae?

- [Lachie] Yes.

- So who's off the toff, then?

- What?

- [Tommy] Who's dead?

- Oh.

Uh, Colonel McGregor, as a matter of fact.

- The McGregors are a prominent family in the area, Thomas.

Minor aristocracy.

- Oh, that reminds me.

I've asked Hamish to get me some special cones for the street for the Colonel's final journey.

Bound to be a big turnout.

- Lachie's a brilliant undertaker, Tusker.

Every funeral's planned like a military operation.

I mean, the bereaved just worship him.

Ain't that right, Auntie Jean?

- That's right.

There's more than the bereaved worship Lachie McCrae.

- That's the downside of this setup.

I mean, every night you have to sit in the middle of that romantic crosstalk and blowing kisses.

It'll turn your stomach.

- Frankie.

- [Frankie] Sorry.

- I was thinking, Frankie.

- What?

- Do think you could stop calling me Tusker?

I find it kinda juvenile.

- Sure.

From here on it's Tommy.

- I understand your predicament perfectly, Thomas.

You see, I'm known locally as Lachie Jr., a title that is wholly at odds with my social position.

- What position's that, Mr. McCrae?

- Well, local undertaker.

- That's funny.

I've never thought of an undertaker as having well, a position.

I always thought of it as a creepy job that was tailor-made for, well, creeps.

- (laughs) Thomas.

(Lachie scoffs) - Oh, he's kidding you on.

Right, Tommy?

- No.

I'm serious.

Dead serious.

- Ah, he's kidding you on.

(laughs) Oh, he's kidding you on, in't he?

(chuckles) (truck engine rumbling) (men singing faintly) (bright rock and roll piano music) - Black Bob.

Well, well, well, it's the Lochdubh men, come to part with some of their money.

- Ignore him.

- Did I tell you I had a nightmare last night, Lachlan?

- No, you never said, John.

- No?

Well, I was standing on a cliff and this bus came careering towards me.

All the passengers were Dunbracken men.

And as I watched, the whole bus went straight over the edge.

- Shut up.

- A busload of Dunbracken men gone over a cliff?

You call that a nightmare?

- Oh, it was.

There were two empty seats.

- Ah-ah-ah!

(men grumbling) A little bit of respect for the law, gents, if you don't mind.

Now, go on with this and I'm outta here.

- We've come for the Willie McGraw Trophy, since it's our turn to exhibit it before the competition.

Oh!

And to let you know that the Stag Bar wants to put 336 pounds on our boy winning the competition.

- If you good people are able to match that.

- Oh, we'll match it, Hamish!

(men murmuring) And here's the trophy!

(sheep baaing) - 336, eh?

- Aye, 336.

Just to help you conceptualize that, Black Bob, it's the same as all the toes on 28 men.

- [John] That can't be right, Lachlan.

That would mean that every man would have to have 12 toes.

- Well, I was thinking of 28 Dunbracken men, TV John.

- Oh, aye.

Right enough.

I was forgetting about the effects of the old limited gene pool.

- Okay, this is gonna be kept in the Stag Bar in its usual place, and once you're able to raise the money...

Okay.

- [Harry] I'll bring it round personally myself, Hamish.

- Champion.

(bright rock and roll piano music) - Oh, and uh... (bright rock and roll piano music stops) This is a recording of young Frankie Brice, our boy in the competition.

Thought you might like a wee listen.

(Harry scoffs) After you, TV John.

- Aye.

Gents.

(Frankie singing in foreign language) - See?

It's the acoustics here!

That's why this is the spot!

(sheep bleating) You keep taking them.

What are they for?

- They're for hay fever.

All this heather goes for me.

- I didnae know you had hay fever.

- I didn't know you could sing.

- There's judges that come up from Inverness and hundreds of people come here to hear it.

Hundreds.

I mean, I'll have to wear a Highland kilt.

This guy I'm up against, Brainy Balfour, he's won the contest for the last two years.

But no' this time, Tommy, 'cause I'm gonna win it.

I mean, it's my way of saying thank you to the villagers for treating me so nice.

As I said, it's a big deal, really.

- Seems like a load of tosh to me.

- Well, maybe.

But from my point of view, it's important.

- And as for that Lachie, Frankie, talk about a tube, eh?

"Position in the community."

How do you put up with that stuff?

The man's a ghoul, that's what he is.

- Lachie's one of the best people I ever met, Tommy.

But since you don't really know him, guess you're entitled to your own opinion.

- Frankie, if somebody called a friend of mine a tube, I'd take exception.

- Take exception?

What is this?

You're my best pal.

You can say what you like.

Even if it's something that I don't agree with.

So what, right?

- Sure.

(sighs) (wind whistling) A present for you.

- That's your multifunction prized possession.

- Do you want it or not?

- Sure, but- - Then it's yours.

- [Frankie] Tusker, what's wrong?

- Do you really want to know?

- [Frankie] Sure, I do.

- [Tommy] You owe me a quid.

Go.

(Frankie singing in foreign language on stereo) (stereo button clicks) - That is a fine singer they have this year.

Who did McCrae say it was?

(upbeat electronic video game music) - Alfie!

- Frankie Brice.

He's from Glasgow.

- [Harry] From Glasgow?

Are you sure?

- I'm sure.

- Oh.

- Is something wrong, Harry?

- Oh, there's something wrong, all right, Black Bob.

But only if you're a Lochdubh or Cnothan man.

This is going to be the easiest money we've ever made!

So< come on!

Stump up!

(Jean humming) - Wouldn't you like lemonade?

- No, this is fine.

- You all right?

Is it a headache?

- No, they're for hay fever.

(gentle music) (Jean humming) (gentle upbeat folk music) (truck engine revving) - Hey.

- Would you turn that off, boy?

(video game chiming) Hamish!

- Harry.

Black Bob.

Should have told me you were coming, I'd come in with you.

- Oh, there's no need, Hamish.

- Oh, they're all in deep shock, Hamish.

Too numb to be of any trouble.

Come on, boy.

(swinging doors clattering) - [Hamish] Okay, what's up?

- Harry Balfour brought Dunbracken's money round.

- So what's the problem?

- They've doubled it.

They also brought a copy of the rules pertaining to the Willie McGraw singing competition.

- What rules?

- Ones that say the competitors must be natives of the village they represent.

- Frankie's not eligible, Hamish, being from Glasgow.

- Well, didn't anyone think to check this out?

- We didn't even know there were any rules, Hamish.

It would seem the Dunbracken men aren't quite as retarded as we thought.

- What, so that's it?

There's nothing we can do?

- Esme says there's no time to get a substitute ready.

It'll be a walkover, Hamish.

- And the Dunbracken men walk away with our money.

- [Esme] Oh, wait a minute.

- What is it, dearest?

- Oh, I think there's something here we might be able to use.

Rule eight.

- Rule eight?

- Yes.

Ah, apparently, Willie McGraw was keen for entrants to be more than just kilt-swinging himbos with nice voices.

- Spit it out, dearest.

- Well, according to rule eight, boys putting themselves forward for the trophy were meant to be well-rounded lads who, in addition to possessing a good singing voice, should be of excellent character and be capable of displaying some depth of intellect.

- Some depth of intellect?

Young Alfie Balfour?

- Och, he's got the intellectual depth of a bluebottle.

(all laughing) I'd say there has to be room for negotiation on these rules.

A trade-off, maybe.

- Could you hold on?

Quiet, out there!

(sheep bleating) Yes, I can see rule eight, Meldrum.

So, what's the point?

I see.

No, there'll be no objections from us, Meldrum.

Not since it's in the rules.

(phone handset clunks) - What is it?

- They have found a substitute!

- Och!

- But they want to incorporate a general knowledge quiz into the competition.

Any boy failing to score 50% will be inedible.

- Can they do that?

- Oh, they can do that, Black Bob.

- General knowledge?

(upbeat electronic video game music) (sheep bleating) (crisps crunching) - Has anyone got a book?

- There you are, Esme.

It's on the house.

- Thank you.

- Oh, of course, I did play a substantial part in the plan, too, Barney.

- So you did.

- But will it work?

- [Agnes] It's got to work.

- Right.

What do you call it when a shadow passes across the sun?

- We call it nighttime!

- Correct!

- No.

- Eh?

- That's not correct.

- An eclipse.

- Yeah.

- You call it an eclipse!

- (stammering) An eclipse.

- Right.

Next question.

What sport do you associate with Cowes?

- Jumping over the moon.

- Cowes.

C-O-W-E-S, the Isle of Wight!

Sailing!

- [Man] I am sick.

(clock ticking) (man snoring) - I'm tired.

My brain's sore and I'm tired.

I want to go to bed.

- No.

You are not going to bed until you've answered one question.

Just one right answer.

Now, there was a prince that was known as the Young Pretender.

He led a Jacobite rebellion in 1745.

What was his name?

For the love of God, what was his name?

- It was- - [Harry] Yes?

- It was.

- Bo.

- Bo?

- Bo.

- Bob?

Prince Bobbo!

- What?

- That's what you said.

- No.

Bonnie Prince Charlie.

Bonnie, no' Bobbo!

I've never heard of a Prince Bobbo!

No one is called Bobbo!

No one!

Dear God!

(crying) (phone ringing) - Hello.

Ah, Mr. Balfour.

(gentle ambient music) That's very generous of you.

And of course, we agree.

(phone handset clunks) - Well?

What did he say?

- Frankie can sing in the competition if we drop the general knowledge rule.

- [All] Yeah!

(upbeat piano music) Yeah!

- Do you like that Macbeth?

- Yep.

(train whistling blaring) - I think he's a numpty.

What do you say to that?

- I told you, you're entitled to your own opinion, even if it's wrong.

- Frankie, I've come up with this great scam.

It's like, you get to take a rise out the whole world.

You in on it?

- What do you want to take a rise out the whole world for?

- I've got my reasons.

So what do you say?

(gentle music) - (sighs) Sounds interesting.

- Tomorrow, then.

(bright folk music) - Hello, Lachie.

- Hi.

- [Hamish] How many cars are we expecting?

- Oh, a dozen or upwards, Hamish.

- Well, this should just about do it.

Give us a shout if you need any more.

- Oh, thanks, Hamish.

Oh, my daddy mentioned this business about Frankie and the singing contest.

- Aye, thank God for rule eight, eh?

Hiya.

- I just hope that Dunbracken crew don't come up with any other impediment.

- Ah, no way.

Been through the rules with a fine-toothed comb.

There's nothing that can go wrong.

- Oi.

(cane clicks) Picked it up at a jumble sale.

I give you the blind boy, Frankie.

- What are you doing?

- Blind and homeless!

Blind and homeless!

- Tusker!

Stop this.

This is wrong.

(coins clink) Thank you, sir.

Or madame.

See?

He didn't seem to mind.

(Frankie scoffs) Blind and homeless!

Blind and homeless!

- Tusker, stop this, it stinks.

- Shut up, mate.

Just shut up.

If you've not got the bottle, then beat it.

- Hey you!

- Blind and homeless!

- [Frankie] Oh, no, Tusker, it's Hamish.

- So what?

And I told you, it's not Tusker, it's Tommy.

Blind and homeless!

- Hey.

Hadn't I warned you about this?

What have I told you?

- You've killed my pitch, Constable.

- What the hell's going on here?

- Listen, you made me a promise.

You gave me your word.

- I had my fingers crossed.

Promises don't count when you give 'em with crossed fingers.

Every dumb-wit knows that.

Blind and homeless!

- Listen, son, you'd better stop this right now or I'm gonna lose my patience with you.

- You do what he says or you're out of my house and you're on your way home, I swear it.

- Are you getting this?

They're ganging up on me.

So who are you with?

I said, who are you with, Frankie?

- I'm with you, Tommy.

- Will you let them take me away?

- If you go, I go.

I'm sorry about this, Lachie, but that's the way it is.

I was part of this, too, Hamish.

If you lift Tommy, you have to lift me.

I'm going home.

Come on, Tommy.

I said come on, Tommy!

(tense somber music) (birds cawing) - What you gonna do, Hamish?

- Forget about it.

- Thanks, Hamish.

- For what?

Frankie's no part of this.

Kid's playing the loyalty card.

(gentle thoughtful music) (pebbles splashing) - [Tommy] Funkin' heck, pal.

- This is my place.

Who are you?

- Name's Tommy Gray.

Can I have one?

- Sure.

(upbeat electronic video game music) I'm Alfie Balfour.

- [Tommy] Ah, the singer.

- How'd you know that?

- [Tommy] I'm a friend of Frankie Brice.

Hope that's okay.

- No problem.

You can tell him I think he'll win, by the way.

You can tell him I don't give a monkey's 'cause I've already won twice before and it's not worth the hassle.

- I'll tell him.

Can I have a shot?

- Aye, go.

(crisps bag rustling) - [Man] Look out there!

- [Woman] Honestly!

- [Man] Speed demons everywhere.

Never seen him before.

- And don't forget this lovely wedge, my darling.

- [Agnes] Mm-hmm!

(giggles) - Have you thought about what you're gonna do with your winnings?

- Something, uh, sheer, I thought.

What about you?

- Yeah, I've been considering a radical change in the underwear department, myself.

- You mean out with the boxer shorts at last?

- And in with the pink satin pouch.

Just like you've always wanted.

- Mm.

Be still my beating heart.

(chuckles) - Good evening, Mr. Meldrum.

- (laughing) Frankie!

Just having a wee, uh, joke here, with Mrs. Meldrum.

- Who's just finished polishing the Willie McGraw Trophy for the umpteenth time.

- Seeing as how it's going to be up on the shelf there for a year.

- [Frankie] I'll try my best, Agnes.

My very best.

- That's all anyone can ask, young Frankie.

Now, what can I get you?

A Coke?

- No, thanks.

I was looking for the doc.

- Over there, son.

- Thanks.

(Frankie clears throat) Is that, um... - What?

(scoffs) No, no, no, no, no.

You don't, uh... - Nah.

- Good.

(Frankie clears throat) So what can I do for you?

- What I want to know, Doc, is can medicine change people?

I mean, my friend, Tusker... Tommy.

- Mm?

- [Frankie] He's just no' been the same person.

It's been Jekyll and Hyde with him.

- It's possible.

What kind of medicine is he taking?

- I wrote it down.

(paper crumples) - Nope.

Don't know it.

You wouldn't happen to know who his doctor is, would you?

- Sure, same one I had.

- Then write that down, too, and I'll see if I can contact him.

- You're a gent, Doc.

(Jean humming) - So, uh, where are the boys, then?

- Oh, sleeping in.

- Oh.

So it's, uh, just you and me, then.

- Of course, it's just you and me.

(gentle bright music) Oh.

Just you and me.

Right.

(chuckles) Just you and me.

- Well, you can bring it into me, then.

My tea.

- Your wish is my command, oh great one.

(door thuds) (tense music) (Barney screams) (car brakes screeching) - [Agnes] In here.

- Hi, Agnes.

What was taken?

- (sighs) Just the trophy and the money, Hamish.

Whoever it was came in through the window in the gents' toilet.

And I think they slipped the latch with that.

I found it outside.

- Where's Barney?

- Well, as far as he's concerned, this is the work of the Dunbracken crew.

He said he was gonna raise an army to go over there.

- I can't see this belonging to a Dunbracken man, Hamish.

All these blades would only confuse them.

(Agnes chuckles) - Yeah, a Dunbracken man wouldn't have to search for the trophy either, would he?

(bright folk music) (sheep bleating) (truck engine rumbles) - They're in the back.

(sheep bleating) (people chattering) - You can deal with this.

- Agnes!

- What the hell happened?

- We were sorting out these thieving halfwits when we fell into Balfour's harem.

- My harem?

What are you insinuating, Meldrum?

- Uh, I think you'd better get yourselves cleaned up, and then we can see what's what around here.

Uh, would you fancy a glass of lemonade or something, Agnes?

- Only if you're having one yourself, John.

- I think I might risk a pint of Balfour's watery beer.

- Oh, well, I better go ahead.

Make sure the glasses are clean.

- There is no watery beer in my pub!

And there are no dirty glasses!

- Och, come on and get cleaned up like John said.

(playful folk music) - Esme'll kill me when she sees the state I'm in.

She says I've got skin like a peach.

That's what turns her on, she says.

Now, look at me!

Look, look!

- [Hamish] Ever seen this before?

- That's mine.

Tommy gave it to me.

- Hamish, Frankie didn't take the money.

Why would he do that?

You know him.

- He went out late last night.

Thought I was asleep.

When he came back, I seen him put something in his drawer.

- Tusker!

- You're a liar.

- Thomas, what are you saying?

- [Hamish] Do you mind if I look inside the drawer?

- Look all you want.

- It's the bottom drawer, Hamish.

(drawer scraping) - Auntie Jean, I never took it.

Lachie, I swear.

- For God's sake, Hamish.

Jean said it, you know the boy.

- [Hamish] I know.

And I know he didn't take this.

Whoever broke into the hotel had to search the lounge bar first.

Frankie wouldn't do that.

He knew exactly where the trophy was.

In fact, I doubt there's a person in the entire district who wouldn't know exactly where the trophy was.

Whoever broke in was a stranger.

A stranger that could get close enough to Frankie to steal his penknife.

Do you mind if I look in your things, son?

- [Lachie] His things are over here, Hamish.

(objects clattering) - Tusker!

- Told you.

It's not Tusker.

It's Tommy.

- Get him out of here, please, Hamish.

(pen scrawling) - I want my parents told everything I did here.

- Thomas.

- Can I get the next train?

- Yeah, there's one at 5:00.

- (sniffs) Come on, I'll take you to the station.

- No.

I don't want anybody with me, Jean.

(tense somber music) (door clunking) (Tommy exhales) - Nice bit of police work, that, Hamish.

- Aye?

How come I don't feel that pleased with myself, then?

(door knocking) (car tires screeching) (door knocking) (door clunking) - What do you want?

- [Harry] Where's Macbeth?

- Ah, Mr. Balfour.

- Something stinks here.

The story is that young Brice is off the hook because you say the Stag Bar was turned over by a stranger, someone who didn't know where to find the trophy.

- That's right.

Thomas Gray.

- Hm!

Tell him, boy.

- The other boy, Tommy, he knew where this trophy's kept.

He asked me and I told him.

- Then why in God's name did he search the place, Hamish?

- Maybe young Frankie did the deed himself and then faked the search to throw suspicion on this other boy.

Well, that's my hypotenuse!

- Rubbish.

- Hamish!

- [Hamish] Not now, Doc, I'm busy.

- Tusker Gray.

Is he here?

- [Hamish] What do you want him for?

- Just, uh, treat him carefully, Hamish.

- Why?

- That boy is seriously ill. - What?

- I made a call to his doctor.

Young Frankie was concerned about him.

It's doubtful whether that boy will see his 18th birthday.

- No.

- My thoughts exactly.

- [Harry] Hamish?

(tense music) (birds cawing) - On the basis of what you just told me, I could be about to screw up big time.

So, if you're lying, your singing days are over.

- I'm telling the truth.

(tense somber music) - I just spoke to young Alfie Balfour.

- Who's he?

- You know who he is.

You know, it doesn't really add up, does it?

You knew exactly where the money was because Alfie told you.

Yet, you still searched the lounge bar.

Never took anything.

You just searched, just left things lying around for me to find and come over all policeman-like.

That's what you did, innit?

You left me a clue.

Exposed yourself as a thief.

Worse, exposed yourself as a thief that would try and shift the blame onto his best pal.

I know you're ill, Thomas.

I know how ill. And I think you know as well, is that right?

How'd you find out about that kind of thing?

- I listened at the door.

You hear them crying.

- [Hamish] What, your mum and dad?

- That's right.

- Listen, if I promise not to breathe a word about this, do you think you could maybe, um, tell me the truth?

- Solemn promise?

- Absolutely.

You think that when the time comes it's gonna be easier on Frankie if he hates you, is that what you think?

- Tried to turn him against me.

To make him call me Tommy.

Then I was badmouthing Mr. McCrae, then you.

Next, it was the begging scam.

But nothing worked.

So, I did the robbery.

- [Hamish] And you intend doing the same thing to your parents, make them hate you?

- Worked here, didn't it?

(birds chirping) (lighter clinks) - You know, if you don't mind me saying, I don't think your plan really makes an awful lot of sense.

I mean, you think Frankie's walking about just now, hating your guts.

Well, for my money he's gonna be pretty hurt, wondering what he did to deserve this, feeling all the things that you thought you were gonna spare him.

But bad as that is, Frankie's not the real worry, here.

The worry's your parents.

If you do this thing, you're gonna destroy them, sure as you and me are standing here.

- (sighs) Can I go for my train now?

(gentle solemn music) - So, it's you, is it?

Blind boy Tusker Gray himself.

Well, well, well.

- [Tommy] Sorry about that.

- And so you should be.

Well, get on if you're getting on.

I'm not going to bite you.

- I think I'll stay here a wee while longer, Mr. McClintock.

- [Mr. McClintock] As you wish.

(whistle shrills) (train hissing) All aboard!

(train rumbling) - [Frankie] That was a close-run thing.

- [Hamish] Aye, it was close.

- But you did it.

Thank you.

What an idiot you are, Tusker.

- You promised.

(gentle choral music) (Alfie singing in foreign language) (audience cheering) (audience applauding) - [Harry] Well done, boy!

Well done!

- Good luck.

- Thanks.

(gentle tense music) (Frankie singing in foreign language) (gentle folk music) - It's in the bag, my man.

It's in the bag.

(audience applauding) (audience cheering) (gentle uplifting folk music) (gentle uplifting folk music continues)