Hobson's Choice

1

Beg pardon.

Good job your Masons' meeting's

only once a month.

Oh...!

Aye, you're a proper old maid, Maggie,

if ever there was one.

You're leather, Maggie.

You're tough, ancient leather.

But I like leather.

- Upstairs, Father.

- Fine. Wait a minute!

Back in half an hour.

I've got a business appointment,

my dear.

I'll be back in half an hour.

Aye.

- Aye.

- Aye.

- Be over in a moment.

- Aye.

- Good morning, Maggie.

- He's not down yet, Mr Heeler.

Isn't he at breakfast?

Breakfast?

With your Masons' meeting last night?

Alice!

- I'll be back.

- Oh, dear. I wish he'd hurry up.

Are you expecting anyone, Alice?

Yes, I am,

and you know I am,

and I'll thank you both to go

when he comes.

I'm sick of Albert Prosser coming here

to make sheep's eyes at Alice.

Father won't have us go courting.

What else can they do?

If he wants to marry her,

why doesn't he do it?

- Courting must come first.

- It needn't.

Courting's like that, my lass,

all glitter and no use to nobody.

Hello, Father.

Clean handkerchief, Alice.

In top drawer, Father.

Oh, you have got this in a muddle.

Keeping muddles straight

is woman's business.

I tidied this only last week.

When your mother was alive,

things and people

were kept in proper places.

There.

You won't be much longer, will you?

We've the room to do.

You'll do this room

when I choose to leave it.

- Well, don't be much longer, then.

- Good morning, Miss Vicky.

- Morning, Mr Prosser.

Miss Hobson.

- Good morning, Miss Alice.

- Father's not gone yet.

Oh.

And what can we do for you,

Mr Prosser?

I can't say I came to buy anything,

Miss Hobson.

This is a shop, you know. We're not here

to let people go without buying.

I'll just take a pair of bootlaces.

- What size do you take in boots?

- Eights. I've small feet.

- Does that matter to laces?

- It matters to boots.

Sit down, Mr Prosser.

These uppers are a disgrace

to the legal profession.

- Alice, number eights from third rack.

- Vicky!

- Oh, dear.

- I'll be off.

Sit easy, Mr Prosser.

You're a customer now.

- You call that brushed?

- She's been at it, Father.

At it to no purpose.

If my boots aren't

what they should be...

- They are. I did them.

- Aye, we'll see.

I suppose you know that you and Alice

are making yourselves

the laughing stock of Salford.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- I'm bringing up the question of bustles.

- Bustles?

- Aye.

Who had new dresses on last night?

I saw you out of Moonraker's parlour

- and my friend Sam Minns...

- A publican!

Aye, a publican, and as honest a man

as ever stood behind a bar.

My friend Sam Minns asked me

who you were, and well he might.

You were going down Chapel Street

with a hump added to nature behind you.

Father!

And you had the kind of waist

that's natural in wasps

but unnatural in women.

- Aye, and you held your head...

...like giraffes with a bad stiff neck,

and you were gone at the knees

and the hump was wagging,

and I say it's immodest.

It's not immodest, Father,

it's the fashion to wear bustles.

- Then the hell with the fashion.

- Father. You're not in Moonraker's now.

- Comfortable?

- Yes, very comfortable.

Father's just on ready.

- That'll be one pound, Mr Prosser.

- A pound?

Oh, money's not wasted.

Them boots will last.

Thank you.

You'd better have your old pair mended.

They'll be ready Wednesday.

Oh, I don't think I...

Thank you very much.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Maggie, I've got some business

to attend to.

I'll just be out

for about a quarter of an hour.

- Don't be late for dinner, Father.

- It's a long way off dinner time.

So that if you stay too long

in the Moonraker's, you'll be late for it.

Moonraker's?

Who said anything...

If your dinner's ruined,

it'll be your own fault.

- Well, I'll be eternally...

- Don't swear in here, Father.

No...

I'll sit down instead.

Now...

Listen to me, you three.

Providence has decreed

that you should lack a mother's hand

at the time when single girls

grow bumptious

and must have somebody to rule.

Well, I'll tell you this.

You'll not rule me!

You're not addressing

a Masons' meeting now, Father.

No, at the moment

I'm addressing a few remarks

to the rebellious females

of this household.

What I say will be listened to

and heeded!

There's been a gradual increase

of uppishness towards me...

- Morning, Miss Vicky.

Oh. Excuse me.

Some other time.

Yes, Father?

I've come to a decision

about you two.

You're gonna exercise your gifts

on some other man than me.

- You mean get married, Father?

- Exactly.

I'm gonna choose husbands

for the pair of you.

You mean we can't choose husbands

for ourselves?

You're not even fit

to choose dresses for yourselves.

You're talking a lot to Alice and Vicky,

Father, where do I come in?

- You?

- Aye.

If you're dealing husbands round,

don't I get one?

You with a husband?

Aye, that's a good one.

- Why not?

- Why not?

Maggie, I thought

you'd sense enough to know.

Well, if you want t'brutal truth,

you're past marrying age.

- I'm 30.

- Aye, 30 and shelved.

Well, all the women

can't have husbands, Maggie.

And I look to you

to take their mother's place

till I've made arrangements

for them.

- Dinner's at one, remember.

- Dinner will be when I come in for it.

I'm master here.

- Oh, I...

- Morning, Hobson.

- Morning, Mrs Hepworth. It's a grand day.

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