All language subtitles for Bookish - 01x03 - Deadly Nitrate Part 1

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.

I shall stay in my shop.

And you and yours.

And all I ask is that you
don't grow 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.

It didn't 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.

Ah, none of this canteen muck.
No offence.

- Sandra, are you okay?
- Yes, yes, Jessie, I'm fine. Don't fuss.

How was my pout at the end?
Was it...

It could do with a dab, actually?

Miss dear, everywhere's victory red.
Bésame.

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

- Mary, thank you.
- Yes, Miss.

All right.
All right.

Ad astra per aspera.
We must have bodies.

Abracadabra.

Why, Stu, stop it.
I've got to concentrate.

Have.

Quiet.

Lovelorn 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.

But we're strong.

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.

He handled this very role.

Can I touch it?

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

Well, since your extra's 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, six pence, say?

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

Oh, yes.

- Keep change.
- Thank you.

Mr. Book, 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 Belbrus' first folio.
What did they say?

- Is it genuine?
- As his teeth.

Oh, dear.

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 all 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...

moustache.

You'll be smashing in the background there.

Let's take ten.

Ten minutes, all.
Ten minutes.

- Billy.
- Norena.

Rather jumpy this morning,
isn't she, our dear Sandra?

We worked on the hours
in the picture business, Norena.

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.

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 Dare.

She's using my room.

They 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.

Mr. Book.

Not getting too much in your way,
I trust?

Not at all.
Certainly an education.

Larry Olivier calls film
an anaemic 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 the director?

And the writer.

I thought you'd be older,
with a monocle and a riding crop.

You 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 were very busy me, as I recall.

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

- Jesse.
- Jesse.

Hello, Norena.

In search of material
for your next article.

- Always.
- Well, the bin's around the back.

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 mine.

Nice fingers.

Well, 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?

Fiancee.

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 you away.

Hear that, Barbara?

- Heavens.
- Oh, is it bad?

Barbara?

Home is the hunter?

Oh, my God.

Sync and corrections: minouhse
www.addic7ed.com

Inspector.

Is this a sad one, Morris?

Well, because I've been up all night
with the razor blade case. So...

All right, let's have it.

Filmstruck girl, extra,
dead, on the counter.

Suspicious, I've shut down
filming for the time being.

- Have the parents been informed?
- Yes, sir.

She and her family didn't get on.

Her friend said that's why she
spent so much time at the, uh,

at the pictures.

Inspector.

Book.

We are at home to death, it seems.

Upstairs.

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?
- With a permanent Richter smile.

They can do wonders with makeup now.

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

Dearest, Miss Dare, 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?

And what a long engagement it's been.

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

Have you enjoyed our little field trip?

If we're back at Lady House, it gets
that dreadful Nerina Bean out of my hair

The studio has gates.

Fire breather of picture-goer.

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 Nerina Bean.

I'm sure it's been rather sweet to me.

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

Deliveries.

Our new three-picture deal.
Picture-goer exclusive.

No.

What do you want?
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?

Very carefully rammed.

Tenderly, I'd say.

Well, they are still on the ration.

They look expensive.

But there are only coppers in this purse.

- Trotty.
- Yes?

Did they have money, 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... you
don't know where they've been.

Trotty, it's poison.

That'd be absurd.
They're by wrong 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?

What does he mean?
Intended victim?

We're investigating the
death of Barbara Markham.

- Oh, 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 you these chocolates?

Nobody. They were just with the usual mail.
I always have to deal with it.

Where anyone could have got to 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.

Are you all right, my love?

It's a brutal question, mister,
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. Excuse us.

Sir, out.

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

Don't talk to the press.

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?
- Twenty guineas.

- A week?
- Per diem.

For ten 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.

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 pimpernail 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.

- Sorry.
- Dinky.

I will repay.

- What?
- That's the sequel to The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Jack?

Oh, um...

Underneath Hardy Perennials, the biography
of Danton and the stack of unpaved balls.

Got anything on, er, how to cook?

I beg your pardon?

That's what she needs.

I can hardly boil a ruddy egg.

How are your feet?

Oh, how much better.

Oh, I'll wait in the car.

Ah, that's just a bomb.

Oh, and I put this to one side too,
er, on the house.

- What is it?
- Oh, just a little play.

Ibsen.
A Doll's House.

It's about a woman who
realises she's rather trapped.

Unfulfilled.

Thought you might find it enlightening.

Thank you.

Cheerio.

- 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 clasp.

Right.

You really think someone tried to kill me?

- It really looks that way.
- Good God.

At least we'll be back
at Ladyhurst tonight.

Are you sure you're okay to shoot?

- I'd have to be, wouldn't I?
- Deirdre?

Silly me.
My memory. Sandra.

- Are you ready?
- Ready?

My exclusive.

Oh, excuse me.

I promised an interview.
Harold.

Um, Marina, I can give you two minutes.

A necessary evil, I suppose.

One must feed the machine, Mr Booker.

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, Narina.

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

A deal Stuart and I have signed on for.
Isn't that marvellous?

Marvellous.

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

Not exactly MGM, is it Ladyhurst?

Oh, it'll do nicely.

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

Made plenty of pictures there in the past.

Like the one where you played the simple
crofters' daughter who married a duke.

Hmm, yes.

And the one where you played
a simple fisherman's daughter

who married a jute magnate.

Yes.

I always forget what jute is.

It's a kind of fibre.
People make bags with it.

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

At Ladyhurst?

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 Dare's
pictures were talking pictures.

I love those old intertitles,
came the dawn and all that.

Or 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, Narina.

Where?

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, how's that for an exclusive?

Tragic.
And what an angle.

Oh, sorry.
That was crass of me.

But, Stuart...

What an angle.

Oh, there's your story, Narina.

Are you ready, darling?

- Oh, yeah.
- I was just leaving.

Congratulations
on the new contract, Stuart.

Thank you.

Much to chew on.

Always lovely to see you.

Trust the lady, Hursties, in five minutes.

Five minutes, everyone.

What are you waiting for?
The last post?

Mr. Masterson.

What a pleasure to see you again.

Lorena Bean.

Looking lovely as ever.
What can I do for you?

- Here you go.
- Ta.

We met through, um...

Picture-goer.
Me and Barbara, I mean.

There's lots of correspondence, you see.

- Like-minded folk finding each other.
- So did they have 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.
- 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, chocs.

- 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...
I didn't see any note.

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.

You opened 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're a naughty boy.

He does.

I'm sure he knows about it.

Yeah, he does know where we are.

Thank you, Miss Bruce.
You've been most helpful.

Uh, constable?

Thank you.

Well?

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?

Stuart Howard.

Proof that smouldering Latin looks 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.

And appears to be hopelessly
in love with someone else.

Who?

Himself.

Then there's the Honourable
Jesse McKendrick.

He lived in rooms on The Lane
last year just for a few weeks.

Rich 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.
- He's a 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 aliens.

I suppose 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.

Thank you.

To show she knows what the audience wants.

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

I mean, Sarge has 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 gonna get onto
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.

Up and back around me.

Jesus Christ, me.

You?

You've no idea
how draining it is, Mr. Book.

Glad-handing.

Scribbling one's autograph.

Failing to recognise someone whom you
apparently met at a village fete ten years ago.

And the smiling.
Oh, my God, the smiling.

This is simply the next step.

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

How 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?

What?
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.

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 Furrier'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, why don't you take on
young Jack here as your new factotum?

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, er, keep an eye on things.

We'll be delighted.
Thank you for these.

I'm the film star.

You all right?

Yeah.

Why 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.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Yes, sir.
What's your poison?

The Varsity Sporting Review.

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 Lovelorn in 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.

And Jack has a new job.
As 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 humour you.

Punch up then.

Oh, there it is.

Been fretting about that since we
moved my stuff to accommodate the stars.

Then fret not, dear.
And recall our soul unpacked.

The 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 Strotford Perry.
Trotty to my friends.

Late of 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 once took a bullet
south of the Ebro,

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.

Saturday all right for you?

Forecast is good.

Quite all right, Trotty.

Kiss me.

Where would I be without you?

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

Anyway.

You were going to read.

Of course.

She's noticed you.

Yeah, they always notice me.
Girls.

Doesn't mean anything.

It's like when kids point to a dog
on the street and say,

dog.

Yeah, what are you
getting married soon, 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 a business manager.

So you've got an arrangement then?

I shouldn't drink so much, should I?
Yes, an arrangement.

We all have those, don't we?

You 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're like him.
Book.

- How?
- Because you read.

So go on.
Read me.

Well, erm...

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

But 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.

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 to know.

It's not all this 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.

We were lovers by then, of course.

Do you love her now?

Well, I don't hate her.

- You won't 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 torpies 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.

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.

I 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.

Scene 49, take eight.

And...

Action.

It was then I knew we had fallen
in love from the pages of a book.

But was that love strong enough
to thrive out in the teeming world?

Can we try it again without
him reading in? I can do it in time.

Yes, of course.
Reset.

Still rolling, Sandra.

And...

Action.

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.

Ten minutes off.
Back at five.

- Is that coffee, sir?
- No.

Thank you.

Eric Percival Banks.
She's...

She's been married before.

Good morning.

- You're up early.
- Oh, I...

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?
- The address of Barbara Markham's parents.

- I'll go visit them.
- No, no. There's the inquest first.

- Let's 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 we get some lights on, please?

Yes.

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.

No, she's 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.

It's fake.

Like everything in here.

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.

Hang on, McDuff.

It's 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.
- What?

It's one of the extras.

No.

I think not.

It's Nurina Bean.

The girl with the poison pen.

Sync and corrections: minouhse
www.addic7ed.com