Original subtitles

We simply must be brave, mustn't we?

Heaven knows it'll be hard.

It'll be beastly.

But we're strong people, Tony, you and I.

And what we feel for each other, it'll endure.

It will endure.

So...

I shall stay in my shop.

And you and yours.

And all I ask is that you don't go to hate me.

How could I hate you, Madeline?

You mean everything to me.

What the hell was that?

Cut!

Billy, what was that?

Just a car back bar, I think, mister.

That sounded like a pistol.

Didn't it sound like a ruddy pistol, Stu?

You all right, my pet?

Yeah, I'm fine.

I think I'm just a bit tired.

Of course, darling.

You must be.

Tell you what, how about a proper dinner after this?

Like we used to before the war.

Oh, yeah.

That would be wonderful.

None of this canteen muck.

No offense.

Sandra, are you okay?

Yes.

Yes, Jessie, I'm fine.

Don't fuss.

How was my pout at the end?

What could do with a dab, actually?

Miss dear, anywhere's victory red.

Besseme.

Please, can we just stop faffing and get on with it?

Mary, thank you.

Yes, Miss dear.

All right.

All right.

Ad astra per aspera.

We must have bodies.

Abracadabra.

Stuart, stop it.

I've got to concentrate.

Have.

Quiet!

Love, Lorne, in London.

Scene 28, take three.

Action!

We simply must be brave, mustn't we?

Heaven knows it'll be hard.

It'll be beastly.

I was strong with him, I've heard of him.

I'm afraid of him.

Oh.

Oh, my.

And this is on his bedroom wall?

Rose red and rolled gold.

I said to him, Stuart, Stu, I said.

You are just like this paper.

You're so strong and modern.

And he handled this very role.

Can I touch it?

Uh, I shouldn't really, but, um...

Well, since you're extras in my cake shop.

This is the last thing he sees when he gets into bed.

Yes.

And the first thing he sees when he gets up in the morning

and his hair's all disarranged.

It's 14 shillings.

Tell you what, it's a bit irregular, but, um...

I could let you have a sample for, well, sixpence, say?

And then you could keep a little reminder of him wherever you go.

Oh.

Yes.

Cube change.

Mr. Buck.

Didn't expect a welcoming committee.

I thought I'd better prepare you.

For what?

There have been some changes since you went away on your long errand, Jack.

Oh, by the way, Lord Belbrose's first folio.

What did they say?

Is it genuine?

As his teeth.

Oh, dear.

So, please.

What the hell?

Close.

Hollywood.

Or rather, the nearest England can get to it.

Yes, Jack.

We're going to be in pictures.

All right, then.

Let's hear it.

Now we're ready.

Life and death.

The whole world is here in this little patch of London town.

You're going to do it like that?

Life and death.

The whole world here in this little...

No, I think we'll just lose the line.

I'm already worried about the...

Nostarge.

You'll be smashing in the background there.

Let's take ten.

Ten minutes, all.

Ten minutes.

Billy.

Nerina.

Rather jumpy this morning, isn't she?

Our dear Sandra.

We worked on the hours and picture business, Nerina.

Oh, don't I know it?

And it must be so hard to keep that from telling on the faces of your stars.

If you'll excuse me.

Just the exteriors are being done here, you understand.

The rest is at Ladyhurst.

That's the studios.

You see, I know all the jargon.

Who's in it?

Morning, Mr. B.

Good morning.

Stuart Howard.

Yes, Mr.

I like him.

He's passed me by entirely, I'm afraid.

He plays the hero.

The idealistic young bookshop owner.

In love with the girl next door.

Did you never see him in that submarine picture?

He went mad and tried to throttle everyone.

I mean, he was proper sweaty.

Alash.

Well, who else?

Patience.

You've literally arrived halfway through this picture.

And you've yet to set eyes on our leading lady, who's also Stuart's fiancée.

His real-life fiancée.

Sandra there.

She's using my room.

He canted my thing so she can do her mascara, sip her Vichy water, whatever it is these people do.

I had a cigarette card of her.

Before the war, of course.

Ah.

Mr. Book.

Ah.

Not getting too much in your way, I trust?

Not at all.

Certainly an education.

Larry Olivier calls film an anemic little medium.

He's such a crashing snob.

For he today would shed his blood with me, shall be my brother, be he ne'er so vile.

Churlish when they gave him the Oscar.

Jack, this is Mr. McKendrick.

Delighted.

Oh, but here's Nora.

The gang's all here.

So, you're all the director?

And the writer.

I thought you'd be older, with a monocle and a writing quote.

I mustn't believe everything you read in the film magazines, young lady.

I've seen you before.

Mr. McKendrick had a lot of green penguins from us last summer.

Oh, yeah.

You look different.

It's the shorts.

I'm not wearing shorts.

That's why you look different.

Yes, you're very busy, as I recall.

You're always running about the place, weren't you, Mr. McKendrick?

Jessie.

Jessie.

Ah, hello, Norena.

In search of material for your next article?

Always.

Well, the bin's around the back.

Ah, aren't you going to introduce me?

This is Mr. Book, from...

Oh, the apostrophe man.

They subbed your sign.

I'm trying not to look.

Would you by any chance be a member of His Majesty's Press?

Norena Bean.

Picture-goer.

If you have juicy titbits, my door is open.

I'll bear that in mind.

Nice fingers.

If they're not real, don't break a tooth.

It's lovely.

And he has this.

From his ceiling, all the way down to his skirting boards.

Does he talk about her?

Fiance.

Does he say, I don't like her anymore, she's too old for me?

No.

Does he say, she's so old it's like kissing a leg of mutton?

No.

She's only 45, thank you very much.

He says he was very excited about Lovelorn in London from the moment he saw the script.

And he's very excited about married life.

Though, he also adds, one must keep an open mind.

Because who knows what fate may throw your way.

Hear that, Barbara?

Heavens!

God, is it bad?

Barbara?

Home is the hunter.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Inspector.

Look.

We are at home to death, it seems.

Oh, they're upstairs.

Hmm.

The royal appointment.

What are they keeping from us, Stuart?

All this waiting is making me tired.

Perhaps one should have a mask made.

A mask?

The permanent Richter smile.

They can do wonders with makeup now.

Boris Karloff's number, if you'd like.

You don't know me, but I'm your most devoted admirer.

I wonder what they'll think of Lovelorn in London.

Who?

Them.

They'll buy it.

They love us, don't they?

Both of us.

They'll throw bottles at the screen.

Do you know what they shouted at the test of brief encounter?

Why doesn't she just kiss him?

Only they didn't say kiss.

Relax, darling.

There'll be another smash.

By the nation's most blissfully engaged couple, remember?

Hmm.

And what a long engagement it's been.

Oh, God, I can't wait to be back at the studio.

Haven't you enjoyed our little field trip?

If we're back at Lady House, it gets that dreadful marina bean out of my air.

The studio has gates.

Fire breather of picture-goer.

Hmm.

You know when you lift a stone or a branch and suddenly all these ghastly, filthy, damp,

little monstrosities are exposed to the daylight, scrabbling back into the shadows?

Well, beneath them are even worse, filthy, damp, little monstrosities.

And under them is marina bean.

Which must have been rather sweet to me.

Mm-hmm.

Well, we got good news for it, don't we?

Do we?

Deliveries.

Huh?

Our new three-picture deal.

Picture-goer exclusive.

Yeah.

What do you want?

A barley sugar boy?

I'm afraid there's been an accident.

The contents of a handbag.

Melancholy, isn't it?

Evidence of a little life spilled on the floor.

Oh, what's this?

You kiss your excess lipstick onto your favourite style.

Yeah, well, it takes all sorts.

This interests me.

May I?

Mm-hmm.

Very carefully rammed.

Tenderly, I'd say.

Ah.

Well, they are still on the ration.

They look expensive, but there are only coppers in this purse.

Trotty.

Yes?

They buy these girls.

Very little.

So they didn't buy them.

I didn't notice the production providing fancy confectionery.

No, the fans bring them.

Letters and presents.

Sad little things they've knitted.

They're left through there.

Billy brings them up to them.

Actually, he had a box of chocolates with him just now.

Puncture mark.

Barbara was breathless, Trotty, yes?

Yes, and twitchy.

Strychnine.

Oh, hell's bells.

Poor girl.

Someone's been at these.

Oh, darling, you shouldn't even...

You don't know where they've been.

Chocolate!

It's poison!

That'd be absurd.

They're by royal appointment.

I'm afraid it's true, sir.

You didn't have any, did you, mister?

Oh, no, no.

What about you, mister Howard?

No.

Oh, good.

Have you ever received chocolates like this before, mister?

Yes, all the time.

My fans know they're my favourite, but I never eat them.

It seems reasonable to assume, then, that you were the intended victim.

Intended victim.

Intended victim?

What does he mean?

Intended victim?

We're investigating the death of Barbara Markham.

Yes, that unfortunate young woman.

Yes.

Oh, my God, I have been sent some strange things in my time, but...

I would... anyone want to kill me?

Billy, who gave her these chocolates?

Nobody.

They were just with the usual mail.

I always have to deal with it.

Where anyone could have got at them.

And Barbara and her friend presumably did.

Jesus Christ, we could have both died.

What were you thinking about bringing that muck up here?

Sorry, mister Howard, but you told me to bring everything...

Now, don't answer me back.

I need to find myself a new assistant.

You all right, my love?

It's a brutal question, Miss Dare, but I'm afraid it must be asked.

Do you have any idea who might want to kill you?

Can't this wait?

Yes, of course.

He'd excuse us.

Sir.

Out.

I need to remind you that this is an official murder investigation.

Don't talk to the press.

Oh, no.

Let's talk to the press.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

You got what we're gonna look about with?

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

There once was an actress called Dare, whose allure was exceedingly rare.

Her chocolates were spiked with strychnine, not nice.

But t'was Barbara that ate them, not fair.

I hope we did the right thing letting those people into the lane.

Why did you?

I'm afraid it was money.

Yes, my love.

Those little pieces of paper that keep us out of the small claims courts.

How much?

20 guineas.

Per week?

Per diem.

For 10 diems.

The devil's going on out there.

Bobby's swarming about like the cup final.

Ah.

Mrs Goodwin?

Yes.

I'm afraid there's been an accident.

Oh.

Well, nothing to do with Sandra Dare, I hope.

I heard she was in the neighbourhood.

Oh, so that's why we're here.

Always been a fan.

They don't want to hear about your juvenile antics, woman.

Miss Dare is perfectly sound, I'm happy to say.

The Scarlet Pimpernel you had from us last time, wasn't it?

I trust you enjoyed it.

Oh, very much.

And I promised you the sequel.

I'm teeing off at quarter two.

Tch.

Sorry?

Tch.

Dinky.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

Tch.

How's business been?

Booming.

Goodbye to bullying.

All the Stuart Howard fans are mad for it.

Is he in the film version?

That's what I'm telling them.

I, er, better unpack.

Oh, Jack, be a darling and fetch my bag from my room, would you?

It's the green one with the amber glass.

Right.

I'm sorry.

You really think someone tried to kill me?

It really looks that way.

Good God.

At least we'll be back at Ladyhurst tonight.

You sure you're okay to shoot?

I have to be, won't I?

Deirdre?

Silly me, my memory.

Sandra, are you ready?

Ready?

My exclusive.

Oh, excuse me.

I promised an interview.

Harold.

Mr.

Marina, I can give you two minutes.

Necessary evil, I suppose.

I must feed the machine, Mr.

Ah.

Finally.

If you'd be so great.

You know my motto.

If you've nothing nice to say, come and sit by me.

And here you are.

Sitting by me.

Ah, yes.

But I do have something nice to say, Marina.

Oh?

Lovelorn in London is the first of a new three-picture deal.

A deal Stuart and I have signed on for.

Isn't that marvelous?

Marvellous.

And your shooting interiors at Ladyhurst, aren't you?

Mm-hmm.

Not exactly MGM, is it at Ladyhurst?

Oh, it'll do nicely.

You know the place, though, don't you?

I made plenty of pictures there in the past.

And like the one where you played the simple crofter's daughter who married a duke.

Mm, yes.

And the one where you played a simple fisherman's daughter who married a duke magnet.

Yes.

I always forget what duke is.

It's a kind of fiber.

People make bags without.

What's the first film you made there, Sandra?

At Ladyhurst?

Hmm.

Um, I don't know.

Springtime for Mary, I think.

Oh, about a simple blacksmith's daughter who married...

All right.

I think it was quite a bit before that.

But you know, our readers would be fascinated to learn that not all Sandra Day's pictures were talking pictures.

I love those old inter-titles, came the dawn and all that.

Well, I can check the date later, Deirdre.

That is your real name, isn't it?

The one you used to go by.

Deirdre Piddock.

Perhaps you should concentrate on the present, Noreena.

Well...

Someone is trying to kill me.

Someone is trying to kill me.

Jesse and I are taking Sandra for supper.

Trying to take her mind off things.

If that's not inappropriate under the circumstances.

Well, one must eat.

Where are you going?

Wheeler's?

No.

Camille's.

On the Strand.

Good choice.

Don't have the oysters.

I saw them taking that girl away.

I assumed it was an accident.

Poisoned chocolates.

Really?

And they were intended for me.

And that poor, sad girl intercepted them.

Oh, God.

How's that for an exclusive?

Tragic.

And what an angle.

Oh, sorry.

That was crass of me.

But still...

What an angle.

Oh, there's your story, Noreena.

Are you ready, darling?

Oh, yeah.

I was just leaving.

Congratulations on the new contract, Stuart.

Much to chew on.

Always lovely to see you.

Trust the lady, Hurstleys, in five minutes.

Five minutes, everyone.

What are you waiting for?

The last post.

Mr. Masterson, what a pleasure to see you again.

Noreena Bean.

Looking lovely as ever.

What can I do for you?

Here we go.

Tarr.

We met through, um, picture-goer.

Me and Barbara, I mean.

There's lots of correspondence, you see.

Like-minded folk finding each other.

Someone to dare, friends.

Some.

And the other big names, too.

There's a hairdresser I know who's potty on James Mason.

But, you know, Stuart was our favourite.

That's why we...

Why we chose to get jobs as extras.

To get close.

Oh, you're doing very well, my dear.

You admit to taking the chocolates?

Yeah.

I'm awfully sorry.

We just couldn't resist them.

We saw them there, on the table, in the bookshop, and...

I mean, chocks.

Come on, it's been years.

They were through there?

Yeah, just through there.

What did you do with the note?

Note?

Well, there was obviously an enclosure of some kind.

It's not there now.

What did you do with it?

I...

I didn't see any note.

No.

It was over there, look, on the table.

It's funny how easy it is to get close to them.

The stars, I mean.

Sally Gray once brushed past me in the powder room at the Walsingham.

I'm up in the box.

Maybe the card fell out.

Do you have...

back issues?

Picture girl, I mean.

Of course.

January 35 onwards.

Would you be so good as to let us have them?

Of course.

I know that look.

Oh, dog.

You naughty boy.

Okay.

This, sir...

This, sir...

Session.

Well, I don't say Session, sir.

He gives you four packs of ice.

Oh.

He does.

He does.

He's got the car.

You're sure he knows about it.

Yeah, he does know where we are.

Thank you, Miss Bruce.

You've been most helpful.

Uh, uh...

Constable?

Oh, Stuart.

Oh, Stuart, my love.

There's so much I want to say to you.

From that moment on the submarine, I knew.

Your look of concentration, your strength.

We were destined to love each other.

Ship of shame.

Good picture, that one.

They were meant for him.

We imagine we control our passions, but they direct us.

To the stars we strive, despite adversity.

They drive ordinary people to extraordinary actions, like injecting strychnine into strawberry creams.

So, Stuart, my own best darling, I implore you not to try.

Follow your heart, break off your engagement, and we can be together, you and I, my sweetest boy, in life, or in the cold, cold tomb of death.

And if one proves impossible, I'll take the other, joyously.

Well, that seems pretty clear.

If the writer can't have him, nobody can.

So we're looking for a film fanatic.

Fanatic being the word.

That would be the obvious explanation.

All right, then.

Bring me up to speed.

What do we know about this film, Will?

Stuart Howard.

Proof that smouldering Latin books sometimes occur spontaneously in Bermondsey.

He and Sandra have bound their careers together, the nation's sweethearts.

But who can know the truth of it?

He's an actor, and he's young and ruthless and rather over-rewarded.

He appears to be hopelessly in love with someone else.

Who?

Himself.

Then there's the Honorable Jesse McKendrick.

He lived in rooms on the lane last year just for a few weeks.

Witch boy, slumming it for the summer.

Ran up and down like a billy goat.

He was always pounding the streets in his plimsolls.

Left when it got cold.

Ran straight back to Daddy's place.

In Wiltshire, I think.

I'm sure I looked it up.

And then we must presume wrote his script on the private lives of the proletariat.

Thank you so much for joining me.

Good neighbour, was he?

Didn't pay much attention, to be honest.

I find that hard to believe.

Well, he was obviously taking notes on how to run a bookshop.

And Miss Dash, she had a rich husband who died, didn't she?

An Italian national.

Is that why they went to the States?

Well, if they'd stayed, he'd have been interned as an enemy alien.

I suppose that they preferred the California sunshine.

That's made me think rather better of her.

I thought she was just running away from the bombs.

What about Billy?

Clapper boy.

Positions, please.

And from the look of it, Stuart Howard's now ex-whipping boy.

Doesn't seem to be much love lost there.

They pose a lot, don't they?

These film stars.

Why is he marrying her, do you think?

To show she's still here?

To show she knows what the audience wants.

Stuart Howard's just arrived at the top, ain't he?

Miss Saja's been there for years, but she can only stay there for so long.

Very perceptive of you, Jack.

What a brutal business this is.

It captures people in time, then they change.

And it mocks them for it.

Right, I'm going to get on to the film security, people.

See if anyone saw who dropped the chocolates off.

What will you do now?

Jack and I are taking this note to dinner.

Jesus Christ, me!

You.

You have no idea how draining it is, Mr. Book.

Glad-handing.

Scribbling one's autograph.

Failing to recognize someone whom you apparently met at a village fate ten years ago.

And they're smiling.

Great God, they're smiling.

This is simply the next step.

They can only love one so much, and there's only one way to go from there.

Uh...

What can I bloody well eat after that?

Well, a crazed fan is only the most obvious theory.

But we don't like to be obvious, do we, Jack?

Well...

Oh, uh, no.

No, we don't.

So, if I might repurpose the inspector's earlier question, can you think of anyone who might want to kill you, Mr. Howard?

Take your ruddy pick.

There's quite a lot of angry ladies out there, not to mention their husbands, Savile Row tailors, producers, directors, writers, my ex-agent, my ex-ex-agent, Uncle Tom Conway and all.

But what about prison?

What?

You started to eat your dinner with your spoon.

Ah, old habits.

Dead giveaway.

Takes one to know one.

I was younger than you.

Nothing too terrible.

But I shouldn't like it to get into the popular press, Mr. Book.

I should think not.

Where'd they get you for?

I went for a drive.

Where?

To a ferrier's window in Mayfair.

You?

Went to the bank to make a withdrawal.

You have a stocking over your face?

Yeah.

My mother's.

I'm a Bermondsey boy, Jack.

Rough as a sailor's arse.

Despite all of this.

Do you think it could have something to do with that?

The prison?

Well, as you've indicated, it's a wide field.

Tell you what, we're going to take on young Jack here as your new factotum.

Huh?

No harm in having a strapping young fellow like him hanging around, and you are looking

for a new assistant.

Yeah, well, I can't.

I've already got a job at the bookshop.

Well, I'm sure I can spare you for a few days, and you know how Nora loves to help out.

Well...

Splendid.

Yes, this is a good idea.

You know, Mr. Book, you should all come to Ladyhurst.

Help us get the details right, and keep an eye on things.

We'll be delighted.

Thank you for these.

I'm a film star.

You all right?

Yeah.

Oh, wouldn't I be?

I'll leave you to it, then.

Let me know if anything interesting turns up.

Oh, and be careful.

There is a killer on the loose.

Hmm?

Good night.

Good night.

Yes, sir.

What's your poison?

Varsity's Sporting Review.

There you are.

There you are.

What's this?

Come on.

It's usually around now that you deign to share.

Three things, then.

Who would benefit from Love, Lord, and London collapsing?

What was missing from that box of chocolates?

It was lying there with all the other fan mail.

But no envelope.

Top of the class, Mrs. Book.

So, unless the envelope was disposed of...

The chocolates didn't arrive by post.

So anyone on the film set could have put it there?

Precisely.

And finally, the chocolate method, haphazard though it was, has been tried and failed.

Which means whoever's behind this...

Is going to try again.

What are you going to do?

We're invited to the film studios tomorrow.

No.

And Jack has a new job.

The Stuart Howard's stand-in.

When are we going to tell him?

Not yet.

Shall I read?

Well, I know how you enjoy it, so I'll humor you.

Bunch up, then.

Oh, there it is.

I've been fretting about that since we moved my stuff to accommodate the stars.

Then fret not, dear.

And recall our solemn pact.

Cave of Fancy, eh.

I've seen some dives in my time for this.

So dirty.

So shady.

The pansies in my garden abhor the shade.

Right, sir.

It is, sir, is it?

Let's find you on my list.

Name, occupation, marital status.

Engaged.

Who are you?

Medical officer Stroth of Perry.

Trotty to my friends.

Lady for the Garibaldi Brigade, and I don't mean the biscuits.

I can pull out shrapnel, I can strip it to Shanker in under two seconds, and I want to pull it south of the urbo, which I wouldn't recommend even to you, sergeant.

And I never, ever leave a man behind.

He's sitting there.

And I'm getting married to him next Saturday, and the chief constable's daughter is one of our bridesmaids.

So if I were you, I'd just admit the error right away and cross him off your list.

What say you?

Trotty.

Is Saturday all right for you?

Forecast is good.

Quite all right, Trotty.

Love him.

Kiss me.

Where would I be without you?

I think we both know the answer to that, my love.

Anyway, you are going to read.

Of course.

She's noticed you.

Yeah, they always notice me.

Girls.

Doesn't mean anything.

It's like when kids put on their dogs on the street and say, dog.

Yeah, what are you getting married to, isn't it, sir?

I may have seen it in a column by Lorena Bean, but let me tell you something, Jack.

I've never gone down on one knee to anyone.

Sandra, what the question ended, see?

I can imagine that.

Most of the questions are from my business manager.

Oh.

Oh.

So you've got an arrangement then?

I shouldn't drink so much, should I?

Yes, an arrangement.

Well, you'll have those, don't we?

You'll have one with Book.

Book has one with Mrs. Book, if we're talking about unusual marriages.

Why do you say Book's marriage is unusual?

You'll like him.

Book.

How?

Because you read.

So go on, read me.

Well.

Um.

You keep coming here because you think this is the sort of place that film stars go.

Well, here's the thing.

You don't like it here.

You hate it.

And you hate that drink, too.

Like a pudding from the war.

Shh.

So you're thinking, how can I be the chap I was, you know, before I knew that the camera

loved me?

Which is a terrible thing tonight.

It's not all it's cracked up to be.

Can you believe that?

Yeah, I wouldn't mind a bit of it.

Careful what you wish for, son.

Got someone sending me poison in the post, remember?

I was a bit stuck when I met Sandra.

Typecast.

Not officer material, they said.

It was a problem, kid.

Sandra changed that.

Pulled strings, whispered in ears.

Producers started casting us as lovers.

They were lovers by then, of course.

Do you love her now?

Oh, and I don't hate her.

You want to be your own man?

Of course I do.

But it's impossible, isn't it?

We're a pair.

Like Hope and Crosby, Fred and Ginger, Garbo and Gilbert.

Yeah, except he left, didn't he?

What?

John Gilbert.

Didn't survive when the talkies came.

Yeah.

So it's all an act, then.

You and her.

Golden couple.

All an act.

As much an artifice as Stuart Howard himself.

The film is for dreamers, you see, Jack.

When you sit there in the dark,

there has to be space for you up there.

In that kiss.

Those scenes in the moonlight.

Standing by the rail of a ship.

You just read in the fan mags that the screen lovers have broken off the engagement.

Can't stand to be in a room together.

And there's no space to dream.

No.

I love you.

But...

You remember me?

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Try it again without him reading in.

I can do it in time.

Yes.

Of course.

Reset.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I'm so sorry, Jessie.

Can I beg ten minutes?

Siggy will sort me out.

Cut it there.

Cutting it there.

Right.

Ten minutes off.

Back at five past.

Is that coffee, sir?

No.

No.

No.

A little bit more.

I like it.

I like it.

I like it.

I like it.

I like it.

Eric Percival Banks, she's been married before.

Good morning.

You're up early.

Oh, I thought you might want a tea.

Hey kid, do you want to be in pictures?

Your name's not on the list.

Who are you?

We're antiquarian booksellers, isn't it obvious?

And I know we're being extra vigilant, Jerry Love, but they're with me.

All right.

What's this?

What's this?

The address of Barbara Markham's parents.

What's this?

The address of Barbara Markham's parents.

I'll go visit them.

No, no.

There's the inquest first.

Just write them a kind letter.

I will.

Thanks book.

You boys in for the biggest surprise of your lives.

Keep going.

Better this way.

More dramatic.

Geordie, can I get some lights on please?

Yes.

Can I get some lights on please?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

I'm sorry.

Can I get that?

What a policy, man.

Look at me.

What's this Nossa P הר?

A character for the teenager?

Fuck you.

Excuse me.

Why are you looking into the tree and you could foil this?

While客's parents hand on his hands?

Some cameras have cameras in toThey.

Can you sunrise them as a grocery store?

Can you they come and take a look for them?

Right, well, thanks The Losers.

I'm sorry.

You just آ retired, sir.

No, wait.

I'll go.

In other light words.

Amazing, it's absurd, ridiculous, bizarre exaggeration of reality, it is wonderful.

What a thrillingly peculiar life you lead, Mr. Howard.

It's an imitation of life.

Dog's blanket, but no dog.

Is dog cast yet?

Yeah, unless you're not much cop, no screen presence.

Think of a good replacement?

Yeah, I can.

Cans of cash.

Your Tony's a better bookseller than I am.

He's fake.

I like everything in here.

Ah, well, I'm glad you had a chance to look before the hordes arrived.

Let's get some breakfast. Canteen's in the next block.

Lay on, McDuff.

Just past the dressing rooms.

Do you know what you're doing next, or...?

Another Robin Hood remake.

I mean, I've got the pins for it.

Oh my God.

Right.

It's one of the extras.

Oh my God.

It's one of the extras.

No.

No.

I think not.

No.

No.

I think not.

No.

I think not.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

The girl with the poison pen.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

No.

I think not.

It's Norena Bean.

No.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

The girl with the poison pen.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

It's Norena Bean.

You