FEMALE VO: The following program contains content which may not be suitable for all audiences.

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I just wanted to hear your voice.

When can I see you again?

Sorry, I have to go.

You're so close to the end, Tommy.

School's a luxury I can't afford.

Apparently, I'm the only one that doesn't know that you're a complete womanizer.

My wife is no concern of yours.

Did you report me for not looking after the children?

I am doing my best.

Where were you?

I'm here now, I'm sorry Mommy.

Who was it?

I don't know.

["Spirit Slips Away" by Thin Lizzy] [seagulls squawking] MICHAEL: Young, non-militant Catholics are being radicalized by police brutality... MAN: He loves the sound of his own voice.

...which makes them vulnerable to recruitment to the IRA.

He looks tired.

At this rate, the RUC and the IRA might as well be working together.

Has he forgotten the judges the IRA shot last year?

I won't let the bully boys on either side tell me what I can and can't say.

He's begging for a bullet, all right.

I choose freedom over fear.

I'm going to the loo.

[song continues] [busy signal] [payphone dings] [song continues] [door closes] [indistinct TV chatter] TV REPORTER: But it was a poor election for his Unionist Party of Northern Ireland, which took only five seats.

Unionist opposition to Faulkner's support of power sharing... GINA: You'd almost feel sorry for him.

He should take up golf.

What?

GINA: Brian Faulkner.

He should just give up.

REPORTER: Michael Agnew, the lawyer representing Connor Kelly, Michael McAleavey, and Patrick Coyle, spoke out today about police brutality.

Young, non-militant Catholics are being radicalized by police brutality.

There's another one who needs a hobby.

[lighter clicks] MICHAEL: At this rate, the RUC and the IRA might as well be working together.

REPORTER: That's a very inflammatory statement.

MICHAEL: I won't let the bully boys on either side tell me what I can and can't say.

I choose freedom over fear.

He's kept a good head of hair, in fairness to him.

I'm gonna go to bed.

Aye.

[indistinct chatter] [door closes] JIM: Cushla.

Ah, thank you for coming!

CUSHLA: Hello, thanks for having me.

No Michael?

Is he not here?

No.

Oh.

Grab a wee drink and I'll see yous inside, yeah?

[crowd chatter] PENNY: Cushla, thank you so much for coming.

Your dress is lovely.

Thank you, Penny.

I love your work.

Still no sign of Michael?

No.

But he did say that these are your favorites.

Ah, he brought you to Bewley's.

Aye, and Switzers, by the look of it.

JIM: Ah, speak of the devil.

I'm sorry I missed it, Penny.

JIM: Hard day at the office?

You could say that.

PENNY: Come on, let's take the rest of the wine... Bloody RUC legal team trying to pretend they're impartial.

Have you ever thought that maybe it's you that's not impartial?

You're right, Vic.

I am partial - to a bit of justice.

Oh, stop with the grandstanding!

Would you like to be hauled off the street and have a false confession beaten out of you?

Don't.

We know all this.

And then you get tried by one old judge who thinks you're inherently wrong on all three fronts - class, religion, haircut.

VICTOR: You are so bloody wearying.

You know, I can understand why the IRA are telling their lads not to recognize these Diplock courts, even if it makes my life harder.

Well, you're doing a good enough job of that yourself.

Wasn't enough just to defend them, no?

What do you mean?

Michael here wasn't getting enough attention, so he's taking a case against the RUC.

Police brutality.

Enough is never enough with you.

JIM: ...Christ sake.

PENNY: Oh, Michael.

You need to keep some friends.

What does that mean?

It means you might need someone watching your back.

I think I'm already being watched.

Or surveillance may be a better word for it.

Cushla, do you want to help me gather the rest of the glasses?

Yeah.

I forget you work in a bar.

Have Victor and Michael always sparred like that?

To some degree, yes, but it's getting worse.

Everything always looks so clear to Michael.

It'll do him no good in this town.

Cushla... Have you thought about the risk to yourself, if people find out about you and Michael?

Or if you are with Michael and if... God forbid, anything should happen?

We must have the courage to choose... They're his words, not yours.

[tense drone] Would your life be easier without me?

Us?

MICHAEL: Easier?

Safer, I suppose.

I like us a lot.

I should go.

Are you sure?

I'll let you get ahead.

I have a big day tomorrow.

Communion.

It'll be the first time seeing the McGeowns in a while.

[keys jingle] These are for you.

So you can come and go as you please, whether I'm here or not.

Thanks.

Thank you.

For making my life immeasurably better.

[lighter clicks] [key rattles in car door] [engine starts, revs] [crowd chatter] [crows cawing] [camera shutter clicks] Snap a wee one of me.

God knows when I'll look this good again.

[shutter clicks] Beautiful.

DAVY: Miss Lavery!

[gasps] Don't you look dapper, Davy?

Thanks, miss.

Shall I take a wee photo?

Cheese.

[shutter clicks] [contemplative piano music] Oh.

Mummy... Mummy, let's get a photo of all of us.

Why don't you move in there, Tommy?

[shutter clicks] Hey, Davy.

[gasps] Thank you, Mrs Lavery.

Yes, thank you.

Too generous.

Sure, he's a wee dote.

Look at you.

BETTY: We best get on.

Get your daddy out of this chaos.

It wasn't me that called the social.

It was Bradley.

I told Mum you wouldn't be that nice to us and then report us.

Yeah.

I'm laboring now, with my cousins.

I'll drop a couple of books round.

If you keep reading, all will not be lost.

Yes, miss.

[door squeaks open] Why does Jimmy have the egg in his pocket?

I don't know.

[chuckles] You've caught the sun.

You haven't.

[door squeaks open] Who's that man?

That's my wee peeler from the school disco.

My suitor.

Thanks for the whiskey.

Gentlemen, I'm in need of your assistance with the crossword.

Here, Minty, help me out, would you?

Why would your disco peeler be in the pub?

Well, Gerry reckons he has eyes for me.

There's nothing to be jealous over.

Christ, Cushla, this is serious.

You need to tell me if he comes in again.

Could it not just be a coincidence?

There are no coincidences in Belfast.

I saw a car outside your flat the other night.

Did he get your number plate?

If he wanted it.

Did he follow you home?

No.

[birds chirping] [mellow vocal sample loops] Happy birthday, Jim.

Thank you, Cushla.

Michael, do us a favor.

Grab that chair.

Alright.

Oh, this is Mrs.

Coyle, and we could not live without her.

Mrs.

Coyle, this is our friend, Cushla.

I'll just give you a hand.

You've done this before.

We have a bar.

How's the other woman in my life?

Oh, hi.

Cushla, this is the lady responsible for the hospital corners and the shiny brasses in my flat.

- How are you?

- I'm alright.

He rang me.

He's not recognizing the court.

It's okay, I'm gonna speak to him this week.

[lounge music] [crowd chatter] Michael.

Pleased to see you.

How's things?

- Not too bad.

- Good.

Hey, look.

There's Jim.

- Beautiful.

- You look beautiful, Penny.

- Marjorie.

- How are you?

- Grand.

How are you?

- Good, good.

Cushla, this is Marjorie.

Marjorie... Pleased to meet you.

See you later.

[laughter] [indistinct chatter] [loud laughter] [indistinct chatter] How are you two getting along?

Great.

Fenian Corner we're calling it, aren't we?

JIM: Michael!

Get in here.

Jesus, don't tell me you've a party piece.

Oh, go on, you two.

Let me get back to work.

Come on.

[soulful piano music playing] ♪ I traveled with Jesus ♪ ♪ Honey most of my life ♪ ♪ Yes, I travel over land and sea ♪ ♪ I'll be taking my last trip ♪ ♪ Up to heaven on high ♪ ♪ That will be the last move for me ♪ ♪ When I move to the sky ♪ ♪ Up to heaven on high ♪ ♪ What a wonderful trip that will be ♪ ♪ I am ready to go ♪ ♪ The last days of my life ♪ ♪ That will be the last move for me ♪ [applause] [birds chirping] You're full of surprises.

Why the **** are you crying?

You know, your language has really deteriorated since you met me.

What is it?

The song made me sad.

You Catholics and your high emotions.

Come on, let's go inside.

I have not got one word left in me for those people.

Let's go home, yeah.

I'll go and get my jacket.

Okay.

[indistinct chatter] We're sneaking away, Mrs.

Coyle.

I wouldn't let any of them ones look down on me.

I clean for some of them.

Dirt birds.

Now I wanna stay and hear every minging detail.

[both laugh] [door closes] [Michael sighs] Right, let's go.

CUSHLA: See you later.

- I'll phone you tomorrow.

- Okay, thank you.

Come on, let's go.

[both laugh] Here, what's the craic with Mrs.

Coyle?

Her son's in trouble.

He's been identified in a line-up.

It's that case?

Do you think you can help?

Only if he accepts the services of a lawyer.

The IRA men he's on remand with are telling him not to recognize the court.

Sorry.

It's your night off.

- Mm, it is.

- Come on.

Oh!

[Cushla laughs] [Michael mumbles] ["I'd Rather Be the Devil" by John Martyn] [Cushla giggles] What would Sally Bowles sound like if she were Irish?

I am not reading Irish to you.

- Come on.

- No, not as Sally, and not as me.

Just one line.

One line.

****'* sake.

Siúd í in airde d'fhuip, sin í do láir amuigh.

[song continues] Do you have any idea how sexy that sounds?

You have a Fenian fetish.

[heavy breathing] I don't blame you when the alternative is shagging a woman that answers to the name Marjorie.

[chuckles softly] You don't miss much, do you?

That was an age ago, before I knew they made women like you.

[sighs contentedly] [somber acoustic guitar plays] I'll not be able to contact you for a while.

Or be here at the flat.

Incommunicado.

Must be serious.

Mrs.

Coyle is gonna love you forever.

[door closes] - MICHAEL: Morning.

- CUSHLA: Morning.

Don't take any needless risks.

I want you back in one piece.

You are a brave man that I can wait for.

[children playing and laughing] I'm gonna go check on them.

- Best of luck, Gerry.

- Yeah, I'll need it.

I found a wee fella for you, miss.

Let me see.

You know, I have a friend who has a book, and in it, it says if you can turn a bluebell inside out without tearing it, you get the one you love.

[gentle guitar music] - Isn't that nice?

Yeah?

- Yeah.

[chuckling] Can you take some photographs for me?

- Yeah.

- Yeah?

On you go.

[children laughing] Sean was chasing Zoe with a used condom on a stick.

That's him flirting.

Charming.

What or who has you charmed?

Nobody.

- Tell me.

- No.

Somebody called you Easter Sunday.

Okay.

I'll tell you.

But you have to swear to God not to tell a soul.

I swear.

It's Brian Faulkner.

- **** away off.

- It is.

[both laugh] That's why I couldn't tell anyone.

[laughter] So, you're saying I'm still in with a chance, then?

Fancy coming to a wedding with me, this Saturday, in Belfast?

Aye, go on.

[camera shutter clicks] [Gerry laughs] [children shouting] I hope the bluebell works out for you, miss.

Somebody somewhere is determined that the ceasefire, which has held so precariously so far, will not be... Has your wee mate gone home?

You'll be happy to hear he got blown up.

Nobody here's happy when anyone gets blown up.

Except the IRA.

You're all ungrateful animals.

We should just go home and let you murder each other.

[tense tone] I'm sorry about your friend.

Gerry's eyes will be on stalks.

Well for you out gallivanting again.

Nothing like a good wedding.

- Don't do that, Mummy.

- What?

Feel sorry for yourself.

If I don't feel sorry for myself, who will?

Not you.

I'd get more sympathy from a shoe.

You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love.

[lighter clicks] Yeah, I do, Mummy.

He was my daddy, so... At least I've got the bottle to keep me company.

I'm not even giving you an audience.

What does that mean?

It means that I'm gonna stay in Gerry's tonight, because I can't be bothered to come home and find you bleeding out in the bath.

[yelling angrily] I've got nothing to look forward to!

Nothing!

[pours drink] [sighs] If you do your nails instead of getting plastered tonight, I'll take you for a fancy lunch in the hotel tomorrow, okay?

["Casta Diva" by Vincenzo Bellini] The hotel they booked got firebombed last week.

Gerry, what's the craic?

MAN: I'm very proud of our Kathleen.

She's been a busy, happy wee thing since the day she was born.

You better look after her, or you'll be getting a visit.

[laughter] You look like you might cry.

Are you thinking about your upcoming nuptials with Brian Faulkner?

[both laugh] He'd never settle for a leisure center.

I reckon he'd settle for anything at the moment.

[both laugh] [helicopters overhead] [murmuring] [doors slam open] [boots stomping] [low ominous drone] [indistinct chatter] [indistinct shouting] [angry shouting] [jeers, applause] MAN: Alright, alright.

I'll read the telegrams first.

This one's from Derry.

It came through the window wrapped round a brick.

[laughter] ["You're Such a Good Looking Woman" by Joe Dolan] [music becomes muffled] [ominous tone] [voices distort and echo] [music returns to normal] That's Martin Gallagher.

I know exactly who he is.

I taught his wee lad Luke in teacher training.

He asked if he could send a couple of boys round to cement sherry trifles into the wall of my garage.

Jesus, Gerry.

What did you say?

I says, "I haven't got a garage."

He asked after you.

Says he knew I wasn't your boyfriend.

How the **** would the IRA know that?

Look, I'm gonna get a taxi.

No, I'll take you.

I'm done dancing.

Can you drop me somewhere?

Within reason.

[rainfall] GERRY: My imagination's running overtime, Lavery.

Thanks.

******* Martin Gallagher's sticking his neb in, and now we're here, in enemy territory.

It's Brian's love nest.

We live here.

There are things we cannot do.

Intriguing, what kind of things can Gerry Harkin... Cushla, this kind of secrecy always blows up.

The wrong people are asking after you.

Forget about getting your heart broken.

You're risking much more than that.

I'll see you Monday, Gerry.

Yeah, I bloody hope so.

[sighs] [thunder rumbling] [engine starts] [engine revs] ["Shipwrecked Blues" by Clara Smith plays] [rain pattering outside] ♪ Oh, the gale is raging ♪ ♪ And my ship's without a sail ♪ ♪ Oh, the gale is raging ♪ [loud explosion] ♪ My ship's without a sail ♪ [thunder rumbling] ♪ If someone don't save me ♪ [sirens wailing] ♪ I won't be left to tell the tale ♪ [song continues] [coins clink] Morning.

Big night out, was it?

Er, just at a wedding in Belfast.

Stayed with a friend.

Ah.

Lucky friend.

Do I know him?

Might've been a girl.

Was it?

[tense music] SGT.

REID: Everything alright, Cushla?

Ah.

Sergeant Reid.

Yeah, all good here.

It was you I was coming to see, actually.

I'm gonna take my mummy for lunch.

[instrumental music plays] GINA: Lavery.

The table for ten?

There must be a mistake.

[indistinct chatter] Sorry, yes.

There's a Lavery table for two also.

Follow me.

I didn't expect to see yous here.

Obviously.

It's, er... Marian's Mummy's birthday.

Will yous come and join us?

You're alright, thanks.

GROUP: ♪ Happy birthday dear Granny ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to you ♪ [cheers and applause] - CUSHLA: Shall we go?

- GINA: Aye.

GINA: Ach, how are you, Michael?

We met at the Anchor.

Our family bar.

MICHAEL: Hello, Mrs Lavery.

How are you?

GINA: Call me Gina.

This is my wife, Joanna.

GINA: This is my daughter, Cushla.

Very pleased to meet you, Cushla.

[ethereal vocals, tense undertone] JOANNA: This is our son, Dermot.

Dermot, say hello to Cushla.

Hello.

No need to introduce you to Michael.

[mumbles, clears throat] We really better be going on, but, um, enjoy your lunch.

What must Michael and Joanna think of us, sitting at separate tables?

[seagulls squawking] What's got into you?

[lighter clicks] No harm to you, but I'm foundered.

Are you going to go get the wee car?

[ethereal vocals play] [no audible dialogue] OVER TV: And now, ladies and gentlemen, we move on to the ever popular swimwear round.

[phone rings] [phone ringing] Get that, Cushla.

I can't move.

Just leave it.

[phone continues ringing] [door slams] [uneasy violin music] [no audible dialogue] [Davy's voice echoing] Can we write to Jimmy Savile, miss?

Miss?

What?

I said can we write to Jimmy Savile?

What in God's name would you be writing to him for?

Jim'll Fix It, it's a new program on TV.

I heard he makes children's wishes come true.

Fine.

Might be good practice.

[children cheer] Okay.

Okay, you start with your address in the right-hand corner.

Doesn't that mean they'll know where you live?

That's not always a bad thing.

CUSHLA: "Dear Jimmy, I hope you are keeping well.

Things are fine here.

The school holidays begin next week and I will be off work for two months.

I had intended to spend the summer slinking round Michael Agnew's flat, making myself irresistible to him, so he'd leave his wife.

Only, his wife is a lady, and they appear to be happily married, and he is a lying, cheating, philandering ******.

Wishes are for children and fools.

Yours sincerely, Cushla Lavery, age 24 and three quarters."

[wistful piano playing] Trouble in paradise?

**** off, Gerry.

You need to be saved from yourself.

Come to France with me and my friends for the summer.

We've a lead on some bar work.

Cushla, let me in.

Doesn't matter.

It's over.

Was he married?

Was he a Prod?

Look, since we're asking questions, what were you doing out by the lough in the middle of the night?

- Wasn't me.

- Yeah, it was, Gerry.

I know what I saw.

Is this anything to do with Martin Gallagher?

Look, Gerry, are you in trouble?

No disrespect, Cushla, but who the **** are you to be demanding answers from me?

[whirring] [phone clinks] Just leave it off the hook, Mummy.

Excuse me.

I might have someone calling.

I assume it's Gerry you don't wanna talk to.

Well, if you ask me, he was never good enough for you.

Here.

Steak always helps.

Your daddy and I used to have a steak every Monday night when we first married.

[Gina laughs softly] Just to spite the week ahead.

Yeah, well, I'm home every evening now.

Given up the pub shifts, so let's reignite the tradition.

[phone rings] [phone continues ringing] Oh, will you just talk to the wee puke?

What happened at the hotel was appalling.

Yeah.

Because I thought that you were going missing to save Mrs.

Coyle's son.

I know.

I'm sorry.

I knew you thought it was work related.

I never thought about her much.

And when I did, I pictured somebody else.

Like a wizened wee hag, or some auld doll that needed her roots done.

You're a ******* coward.

And you're always banging on about bravery.

[Michael scoffs] She held my ******* hand, Michael.

She's not well, Cushla.

She seems perfect to me.

Sometimes she's well enough to do things.

Dermot had just finished his A-levels, and so we... we all went out for lunch.

But... she has long-term clinical depression, and she's been in hospital the last few months getting electric shock treatment.

Is that why you could see so much of me?

She came home the day after I last saw you.

It's a bloody mess.

[exhales, scoffs] I want to be with you.

But I can't leave Joanna.

Why not?

I'm the one that'll take the brunt of it.

You'll keep your job, your friends, your life.

I can't leave, 'cause I ruined her life.

How?

Joanna was studying law in Dublin when I got her pregnant.

And... after the birth, she was never right.

Never.

And she just got worse and worse.

She can't live on her own, and I cannot ask Dermot to give up his life for her, because he would.

Do you sleep with her?

No.

We share a bed, but there hasn't been sex for years.

Have you had many affairs?

- Three.

- Including me?

This is not an affair.

This is different.

How?

[crying] Because I love you.

[crying] [sobs] I love you, Cushla, and whatever happens, I'll never, ever lie to you again, I promise.

I didn't expect to fall in love.

And I do not expect you to give up your life for me.

You'd make a wonderful, wonderful wife and mother, but I-I can't give you any of that.

[Cushla sobs] [ethereal vocal music] Do you want to stop seeing me?

No.

God help me, I don't.

There is so much that we can do.

There's this... Oh, it's beautiful.

There's this cottage in Donegal, and we can go there at the end of the summer.

And we'll see God in the skies.

We can take trips away, long weekends.

Go to Amsterdam, Barcelona.

This is gonna end really badly, isn't it?

It doesn't have to.

[music intensifies] [laughter] Cushla.

- Jimmy.

- MAN: There's our girl.

Hello, hello, hello.

Eamonn, what can I do for you?

What needs to be done?

Just throw out a few pints, and keep me company.

You're actually doing an impression of Mike Yarwood doing an impression of Frank Spencer.

I'm missing my daughters growing up because of these eejits.

You love it.

They're a good laugh.

Sometimes it's like it used to be.

Here.

Finish this film.

[indistinct chatter] EAMONN: Alright, lads, photograph time, come on.

That's it, like, one together.

Alright, Michael.

MICHAEL: Eamonn.

[cross talk] [indistinct chatter] EAMONN: Come on, Jimmy, let's go, come on.

[camera shutter clicks] Can you not stay away from me?

It appears so.

Come to the flat on Thursday.

I want you to bring more of your things.

I will, if I survive sports day.

[Michael laughs softly] I love you.

You better, Agnew.

So we're alright, then?

We're doomed.

Apart from that, we're grand.

Mummy!

Mummy!

I won, Mummy.

I won!

I won, I won!

Well done, darling.

I put my head down and I ran like the clappers.

Did you?

He outran them all, Betty.

I wish you could've seen him.

I'll put the kettle on.

Yeah?

Aye.

Go and tell Daddy.

Daddy... Daddy, I won!

Look, Daddy.

Davy played an absolute blinder.

He's a good lad.

Aye, pity we can't say the same about the other one.

Tommy?

Aye, he moved out weeks ago.

We hardly see him.

What we do, he's swaggering about with a few bob in his pocket, acting the big fella.

Look, maybe it's just a phase.

I hope so.

Show us your wee trophy.

[Cushla chuckles] Mummy?

I'm staying over at Gerry's tonight.

[calm, instrumental music playing] [water running] - EAMONN: The Anchor.

- Where's Mummy?

She's bloody here falling about the place.

Come and get her.

- Ach, Eamonn, I have plans.

- Now, Cushla!

[line disconnects] What's going on?

GINA: Oh, love.

What's wrong with her?

Hi.

- Did you not hear?

- Hear what?

Michael Agnew was shot dead this morning.

[bar chatter fades] [seagulls squawking in distance] [melancholic music] FEMALE VO: Trespasses is available with PBS Passport and on Amazon Prime Video.

[melancholic music continues]