My House in Umbria

Synopsis: After surviving a gruesome terrorist attack on an Italian train line, romance novelist Emily Delahunty opens up her home and solitary life to a trio of stranded survivors. She soon forms friendships with each, but develops a special attachment to the young orphan Aimee. So when Aimee's distant uncle arrives to retrieve the girl, Emily strives to convince the cold, mourning man that Umbria is Aimee's rightful home.
Director(s): Richard Loncraine
Production: HBO Films
  Nominated for 2 Golden Globes. Another 4 wins & 25 nominations.
Rotten Tomatoes:
103 min


- Thank God we're still alive.

- I said I'd get you here on time.

- You were driving like a maniac.

- Oh, not me.

- Like a maniac, Quinty.

- There's no point in dawdling.

We should have left home

half an hour earlier.

Couldn't do that. I was busy.

Busy talking to Rosa Chevelli.

I saw you chatting her up.

We were discussing

the household accounts.

She's a tart. I should never have hired her.

She's a good girl. Right, in you go.

I'll see you tomorrow.

On the fifth of May, in the morning...

I left my house in Umbria and traveled to

Milan on one of my monthly shopping trips.

I manage to travel very well on my own...

despite my limited understanding

of the Italian language.

- Excuse me, is this carrozza 219?

- 219, yes.

In the Grand Hotel Duomo, where I

always stay, excellent English is spoken.

I think you're in my seat.

I have a great affection for the Grand Hotel.

It owes more to the style and manners

of the Belle Epoque...

than to the brash technologies

of the 21st century.

In Italy, men who are strangers

still give me a second look...

although not with the same excitement

as they did some years ago.

There are, naturally, laughter lines...

but my hair is still as pale as sand...

and my voice has not yet acquired

the husky depths...

that steal away femininity.

What's the time?

My watch seems to have stopped.

- Ten to.

- Ten to what?

Oh, Daddy. Ten to 12:00.

It's remarkable how much one can deduce

from the slightest gesture...

a half smile, or a shared glance.

Theirs, I decided, is a good marriage...

whereas their love affair

has only just begun.


What's your name?

- Aimee.

- That's a very pretty name.

My name's Emily. Emily Delahunty.

- Do you like it?

- I don't know.

I have several other names.

Perhaps you might prefer one of them?

Gloria Grey...

Janine Ann Johns...

Cora Lemonde.

Why do you have so many names?

We have different clothes

for different occasions.

Why not have different names?

- Are you English?

- I was born in England.

Now I live in Italy.

I have a house in Umbria.

Why don't you live in England anymore?

That's enough, Aimee.

You shouldn't ask so many questions.

- Why not?

- It's impolite.

I don't mind.

Just read your book. There's a good girl.

In the garden,

the delphiniums were in flower.

Through scented twilight,

the girl in the white dress...

walked with a step

as light as a morning cobweb.

Annie. Annie?

No, it's Quinty. Come to see you.

You all right? You'll be okay.

What am I doing here?

You are in hospital.

That's where you are now.

You've had a bit of a bang,

but you're all right.

Praise be to God, you're doing okay.

It was a device.

- A timed device.

- Bomb?

Well, "timed device"

is what the police are calling it.

There were other people on the train.

There was a boy who spoke German,

and his girlfriend...

and there was an American family.

Are they here, too?

I'll ask. Now shush. Go to sleep now.

- She's a British citizen?

- Yes.

- She owns a hotel near Chiusi.

- It's not exactly a hotel.

A pensione? A restaurant with rooms?

It's a house where people stay

when the hotels are full.

- Coffee?

- Si, grazie.

- Sugar?

- No.

- You are...

- I look after this and that.

And the financial matters.

- For the house?

- And her books.

What books?


She writes books. Love stories.

- Are they published?

- They're published all right.

She gets fan mail.

How long have you been with her?

Longer than I care to remember.

"In the garden,

the delphiniums were in flower.

"Through scented twilight,

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William Trevor

William Trevor KBE (24 May 1928 – 20 November 2016) was an Irish novelist, playwright and short story writer. One of the elder statesmen of the Irish literary world, he was widely regarded as one of the greatest contemporary writers of short stories in the English language.He won the Whitbread Prize three times and was nominated five times for the Booker Prize, the last for his novel Love and Summer (2009), which was also shortlisted for the International Dublin Literary Award in 2011. His name was also mentioned in relation to the Nobel Prize in Literature. In 2014, Trevor was bestowed Saoi by the Aosdána.Trevor resided in Devon, South West England, from the 1950s until his death at the age of 88. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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