Original subtitles

Time is not a straight line.

It is more like a vast wheel, on the rim of which we stand at different points,

rarely meeting.

Rarely.

There's no shame in it.

No, I know there isn't.

People come in sometimes, you know, and it can be a big shock.

People who've never had to... To claim.

Yeah, no, I get that.

I am looking for work.

Yeah, I know, loves.

It's just hard, you know, with the children.

And Rich wasn't one for planning ahead.

Again, I'm very sorry for your loss.

Oh, your music.

You're a musician.

Used to be.

And would you be looking to... No, no, no.

No, I'm not interested in that any more.

Just want to get my head down.

And for the kids.

What's his... Oh, yeah.

This is Ben.

Here's a surprise.

Oh, nice.

Right, that's done.

It should be about six weeks to process.

Six weeks?

Yeah, standard, I'm afraid.

And it's nearly Christmas, too.

Still, touch wood something might turn up before then, eh?

Oh, secret boyfriend.

What?

She's got a secret boyfriend.

This is how they meet, like, every Wednesday, outside the pound shop.

Mm, her boyfriend works in the city or something.

Loads of dosh.

He's married but... not happy.

She wants commitment, but... he's unsure.

So... so she hangs on to these little moments.

They wouldn't let me be in an audience with him like they are treasure.

Well, she just needs a new toothbrush.

What about him?

First date.

Yeah.

He is looking for his ideal girl, someone that he can whisk away from all of

this, like, like Prince Charming and Cinderella.

And him?

Now, he's...

HEY HIGHS THE WAVE He's...

Sorry.

Sorry, that took longer than I thought.

Come on, time to eat.

Jamie?

Is it chips?

It's chips.

Cool.

Use a thingy.

Hmm?

A thingy.

You'll stain it.

Mum!

Tell him.

Shh.

Just got Ben down.

Tell him what?

His tea again.

I've just told him.

It'll mark the words.

Oh, it doesn't matter.

Stupid thing just gets in the way.

I'll have to go.

What?

No, no, no.

You can't.

Jamie?

Phone.

But I'm on level five.

Not at the table.

Dad wouldn't have minded.

Well, Dad's not here, is he?

Are you expecting anyone?

Mrs, um, Allen, is it?

Mrs Christine Allen?

Oh, God, your lot came round yesterday.

My lot?

Jehovah's Witnesses?

Oh, good Lord, no.

Well, that is to say, that is to say, I represent a firm of solicitors,

the firm of Blunden, Blunden, Claverton, and...

and, um, um...

I am the senior partner in the firm of Blunden, Blunden, Claverton, and...

Oh, what is that young fellow's name?

I... Oh, no, madam.

The point is, I bring news.

News which I trust will prove entirely welcome.

Welcome to you.

May I come in?

Uh...

Yeah, yeah, uh...

Nasty night.

Is it?

No, please, continue with your, um, chips repast.

I must apologize for disturbing you.

Um, sit down, please.

Uh, sorry there's not much room in here.

Would you like a cup of tea?

The chair I accept with gratitude.

The tea, alas, I must decline.

It's many years since I've been allowed...

since I have drunk...

tea.

Sorry.

You play?

Not anymore.

I...

We had to move out rather suddenly.

There's no room to swing a cat in here.

You've come to the heart of the matter, madam.

I shall do likewise.

Mm.

I should like to offer you a job.

Well, that is to say, a responsible position.

My firm is seeking a reliable person to act as a

caretaker for a property which we have in our charge.

The owner died without direct heirs, and though we've been endeavoring to trace

more distant relatives, so far we've met with little success.

Meanwhile, the house has to be cared for.

But for various reasons, we've had some difficulty

in finding anyone willing to take the post.

Why?

What's wrong with it?

Don't be so rude.

It's a perfectly valid question, Jamie.

The house is... Well, it's very remote, you see.

Somewhat ruined.

But we have to live there.

Oh, no, no, no.

There's a cottage nearby.

That is where you would reside.

Rent free.

Your duties would be very different.

Keeping an eye on the old place to see that everything is in order.

What do you say?

The country air would be most beneficial, especially for the young people.

I'm not going.

And perhaps the remoteness might encourage you to take up your music again.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry.

I've got a...

An ange passe.

Sorry.

Lucy.

Jamie.

No.

We're alone.

I wonder if I might ask you both a question?

How do you know our names?

Jamie?

What?

I reckon he's been snooping around, spying on us.

Don't be so stupid.

Maybe he's looking for a family with no relatives so he can kill us.

Maybe he's trying to get us to that old house so he can eat us.

I saw this thing.

Go ahead, Mr... London.

THEME SONG Do you think you would be afraid if you saw a ghost?

No.

I guess it would depend on what sort of ghost it would be.

These ghosts might appear to you...

well, very much like ordinary people.

Children, perhaps, of your own age, or even an old man like myself.

Oh, that would be okay.

We wouldn't be scared of anything like that.

Dunno.

Spooky kids are the worst.

Did you see that movie?

Sometimes ghosts are people who come back seeking help.

They cannot rest from the knowledge of the harm they have done...

and the longing to put it right.

We'd... we'd try to help, if we could.

Wouldn't we, Jamie?

Hmm?

I think you understand.

Children sometimes do.

But when they grow up, they lose the power to believe in the, um...

unlikely.

I must not stay.

I may have been too long.

A wheel of time.

I'll go get my mother.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

If you would just tell her to call at my chambers tomorrow, that would be splendid.

Good night.

Good... good night.

Good night, my dears.

Hang on.

Where is it?

Yeah.

It's sensible by him.

Will you be there?

Will I?

Um...

Possibly.

Possibly.

Uh, Claverton will be.

Yes.

And, um...

Uh...

What is that young fellow's name?

Tomorrow now.

Yes?

Don't fail me.

Tell them I sent you.

Blunden's the name.

Blunden.

Oh.

Is he gone?

This is where we have to go.

Tomorrow.

About the job.

I'm not leaving London.

No way.

Why not?

The country.

What's wrong with the country?

Everything.

James.

Don't call me that.

Only Dad called me that.

We are going.

Aren't we?

Mum?

No rent.

Well...

I don't suppose it'd hurt to go and see.

We have to!

It sounds well romantic.

A cottage, an old room and house.

Where he can eat us.

Shut up.

Mum?

Job?

Yeah.

As a caretaker.

Mr Blunden told us that there was... Mr Blunden?

I don't think that's very likely.

Oh, my God.

He probably just gave us an out of date card.

Like the rest of him.

Out of date.

Look, I just... Did you see his clothes?

He was probably on his way to a fancy dress party.

Or something.

Look, he... It's nearly Christmas.

I mean, a man came to see us last night.

He... He said that he... You're looking for a caretaker for a house, aren't you?

It's a bit remote.

Yes.

But that job hasn't been advertised yet.

How come... Mr Blunden.

He called round in person and recommended my mum for the job.

I'm not sure.

Are you Smith?

What?

Of Blunden, Claverton and Smith.

I have the honour to be a partner, yes.

Though no one ever tells me anything, it seems.

Sorry if I was a bit abrupt.

Mr Blunden hasn't been in the office for a while.

He's not been very well.

You see, Mrs... Alan.

I'll let Mr Claverton know you're here.

Thanks.

That's him, isn't it?

It's Mr Blunden.

Mr Blunden.

Mr Claverton will see you now.

Thank you.

Just sit quietly, OK?

Good morning.

I see you've found Mr Blunden's portrait.

Yeah.

Fancy dress party.

Ha-ha.

Caught you out.

That picture is in fact of Mr Blunden's great-great-great-grandfather.

The original, you might say.

He died 200 years ago.

But he's...

He's... I mean...

He's exactly like... Oh, there's a strong family resemblance.

The nose, in particular, follows the Blunden line.

Runs in the family.

Like I say, it surprises me that you saw him.

He's not been at all well.

Mind...

Wander.

200 years.

Come on.

Come on.

We'll write to confirm.

Arrangements probably take a few months, sort out.

But no reason why.

Problem.

Can't tell you what a relief this is.

Country air will put colour in your cheeks.

World of goods.

That's what Mr Blunden said.

Mm, yes.

Explained.

Mother, though Mr Blunden's been in contact with you, omitted to mention fact.

Me.

But not to worry.

Ideal for the job.

House needs...

Sensitive care.

In the village.

You'll hear stories.

House haunted.

All that guff.

Won't mind that.

Will you?

Country superstition.

Nothing more.

Hmm?

What a thump!

Oh!

It's beautiful!

I mean, what are we going to do all day?

James...

Jamie.

You promised you were going to give it a go.

Look on this as a new start for all of us, OK?

Come on.

Lend us your phone.

What's wrong with yours?

Battery.

Come on.

It's an adventure.

Well?

I am sure we can do wonders with the place.

Oh!

Sorry about that.

I didn't mean to... Gave you quite a start to expect.

I'm Jill.

Jill Tucker.

I'm to show you the ropes.

Not that there's much to show.

The old house, it's just about standing.

It's full of all sorts of junk.

Now, the cottage...

It's quite modest, you know.

But not so bad.

The last lot, the Bryants, they left in a hurry.

Why?

Oh, you know...

A family trouble, they said.

Called away.

Urgent.

Shall we?

Yeah?

What's the Wi-Fi?

Out here?

You must be joking.

Mrs Tucker?

Jill, love.

Jill.

Jill?

Are there any... Oh!

Bless you.

Of course there are.

Well, not so backward as you might think down here.

Indoor plumbing.

No, I meant... Is it...

Haunted?

Look, don't ask silly questions, Lucy.

Jill doesn't have time for... Oh, no, that's all right, love.

You're bound to wonder, aren't you?

A big old place like that.

Well, it's just a lot of rumours.

Always happens when a place is left empty.

Nothing to be afraid of.

Right.

After all, they're only kiddies.

Who are?

Who are what?

Only kiddies.

Only kiddies.

Well, I...

I expect that Mrs Tucker means that it's only the children

from the village who gossip about ghosts and things.

That's right, love.

That's right.

That's a bugger.

I'll get my Dave on to that tomorrow.

You miss any?

Yes.

Not sharing a room after tonight?

Just so you know.

Obviously.

I've got to go.

Do I need your help?

Of course.

Need my own space.

Well, yeah.

Me too.

I want to go back.

Oh, come on.

Give it a chance.

I miss the noise.

And the tube and the muck.

I miss London.

Miss my mates.

You'll make new friends after summer, when we start school.

Miss Dad.

Dad... I mean, how can there not be Wi-Fi?

Please, Mrs. Hopkins, he's only a child.

Who's...?

What is it?

What?

It's just mist.

It wasn't, though.

It was...

Ghosts.

You saw ghosts.

I think so.

They were just there.

A boy and a girl.

Probably just kids from the village.

Anyway, you told the old man that we wouldn't be afraid.

What's the first thing you do?

Run away.

Sorry.

Because of the mist, we thought you were ghosts.

I suppose if we say we are ghosts, you'll run away again.

You're not ghosts.

Ghosts are, like, seafarers and stuff.

You seem very well informed.

I am.

Ghosts don't do any harm.

In fact, they're often people in need of help.

Who told you that?

An old man we know.

Was it Mr. Blunden?

Yeah.

Blundering.

Blunden.

A silly old fool.

Don't, Georgie.

Please don't say it.

It causes him so much pain.

You must remember it's never too late to right a wrong if you're truly sorry.

So he says.

You guys can't be ghosts, can you?

I mean, you'd have to be... dead.

Of course we're not dead, stupid.

We're no more dead than you are.

Kate!

Oh, Kate.

It all depends on your point of view, really.

Seen from where you are.

I suppose we are ghosts in a way.

But from where we are, we're not ghosts at all.

Time is not what you think it is.

It's not a straight line along which you move.

It's more a great wheel turning.

And you two, and Georgie and I, are in different parts of it.

It's simple.

It was the writing on the window.

It's in the book.

A message appeared, you see.

Telling us that something was hidden in the library.

A book.

Good place to hide one.

A special book.

Unfortunately, getting into here wasn't easy.

Mrs. Wickens has forbidden it.

Mrs. Wickens?

Who's...?

Oh, got a little ahead of myself.

How should I begin?

Once upon a time?

Yes.

Once upon a time.

My name is Sara Latimer.

And this is my brother, Georgie.

We lived here at Langley Park with our mama and papa.

And everything was wonderful.

Until...

And so, we acquired two guardians.

Papa's solicitor, Mr. Blunden.

And Uncle Bertie.

Papa's half-brother.

Charmed.

He's not a bad fellow.

He's a good boy.

Really.

Only weak.

He started to come down to Langley Park more

and more, as he so enjoyed the country air.

The trouble really began on one of his trips to London.

Uncle Bertie is a patron of the arts.

He fell in love with one of the artistes at the ballet.

Her name is Arabella.

She's very pretty, but in her mind, she's only a child.

Look!

And as for her parents...

Mrs. Wickens soon took over the running of the house.

And all the servants were dismissed.

Save poor, put-upon Meakin.

Stand up straight.

And Tom, of course.

The gardener's boy.

He's been very kind to us.

Tom Fletcher?

What use is he?

He's only a servant.

Georgie?

All he's ever lacked is opportunity.

But I'm teaching him, and he learns very quickly.

But that is by the by.

That is the situation you find us in now.

And I do believe that Mr. and Mrs. Wickens mean to do us in.

You see, Georgie here inherits the house and £30,000 when he comes of age.

Unless...

Unless I die.

Them rascally brats are still too fat, Wickens.

Something has to be done, or else our poor Bella ain't never gonna inherit.

Pretty.

Pretty.

Starving them is too slow.

Something else will have to happen.

Some terrible...

accident.

We wrote to Mr. Blunden, but he wouldn't listen.

And then, one night, came the mysterious message.

We waited patiently until we were able to get into the library unseen.

And there it was.

A very old book, full of recipes, remedies, and potions.

And one of them, a charm, to move the wheel of time.

We found all of the herbs that the charm spoke of, and

then we brewed them together over the nursery fire.

But, I mean, what if it had been poison?

I thought of that.

So I put some of Mrs. Wickens' gin to see if she would die or not.

It was either her or a cat.

Besides, she didn't die at all.

She just fell asleep in that chair all day.

Then, she woke up in a fearful temper and said she'd had terrible dreams.

She gets like that from the gin most days.

What's that?

It's the potion.

It wears off after a time.

We begin to feel thin and light-headed.

And then, we find ourselves back in our own time, exactly at the point where we left.

We must be swift.

So, what can we do?

You want us to come back with you?

It's our only hope.

You're the first people who haven't run away at the sight of us.

Please say you'll help.

Sarah...

Don't be afraid, Georgie.

Remember, when you get back, I shall be there too.

It's because he's so young.

He always goes back first.

The Wheel of Time.

Quickly, let me show you what herbs you need.

No need.

When you've made the potion, meet us tomorrow.

At the same time, by the fountain.

Promise you won't fail us.

Promise!

Saint John's War.

Thank God for Google.

Lovely to see you again.

Thanks for fitting us in.

Excellent servant, Vicar, excellent.

Oh, Derek, please, call me Derek.

I was only saying to Geraldine, Vicar, wasn't I?

Eh?

Self-sacrifice.

Oh, yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

So we must look out for others.

It's the only truly Christian way.

I'm always saying that, aren't I?

Yes.

Always.

Oh, Mrs. Mountburton, this is Mrs. Ellen, yes?

And who's this little one?

Oh, charming.

Jamie, there's a way we can make sure everything will go okay.

All we have to do is make sure there aren't any problems.

We'll find the Grey's with their names on.

What?

Sara and Georgie's names, I mean.

Then we'll definitely know that they didn't die.

Won't we?

I mean, I know everyone dies eventually, but they wouldn't have died as kids.

We'll know in advance that we saved them, so we can

go into the past knowing that everything will be okay.

Well... It's brilliant.

They might have been buried somewhere else for all we know.

Oh, come on.

It won't take long to find what...

What's up?

Oh, sorry.

Sorry I didn't mention it.

Sara Latimer.

George Latimer died...

Oh, my God.

That's...

That's...

Two hundred years ago today.

I could save you the trouble.

I'm Dave.

I sort things round here.

Pipes, drains... Graves.

Yeah.

I heard about those stories when we first moved down here.

People seeing ghosts and all that.

That's how I went and saw the old sexton.

Listen, I reckon he knew every little grave in this churchyard.

Bloody tragic.

What happened?

It was a fire.

And there was all a sleeping bed.

It started in the library, I think.

And by the time the flames were noticed, the whole place was burning like a furnace.

Did no one try to help?

Down there...

there's a little grave...

without a stone.

Covered in violets and forget-me-nots in season.

This young lad, apparently, mimed the drainpipe to get to the kiddies' window.

But somehow the pipe gave way.

Down he came, neck broken.

And then...

there was their guardian.

Now, he was on his way back to London when his carriage broke down.

And he saw the flames.

So he came galloping back like a madman.

Too late, he kept on saying.

Too late, it's all my fault, all my fault.

He couldn't get in because of the flames, you see.

He died of grief, apparently.

Although some reckon he was never right in the head again.

No one seems to know for sure.

And some say they've seen his ghost, too,

wandering around the house along with the kiddies.

Have other people really seen them?

Oh, yeah.

The people that lived in the caretaker's

cottage, they've seen them a couple of times.

Through the mist.

And then there was that.

They packed their bags and skedaddled.

There's some new people in the house, apparently.

Yeah?

Well, good luck to them, say I.

They are us.

Oh, you're... Yeah.

You must be... Dave Tucker.

Yeah, Gilly's fella.

Listen, you don't want to listen to anything I say.

It's just silly stories.

Oh, God, I'm going to get in the neck now.

They're not coming, are they?

I so wanted it to be true.

I thought maybe if it worked, the charm, I mean, maybe... What?

We could go back.

Go back and...

save Dad.

Oh, Jamie.

What are we even doing here?

All this just because some old guy appears out of nowhere and offers Mum a job.

It's insane.

I'm sorry.

Mrs Wickens has locked Georgie in the cellar.

That's fine, mate.

The most important thing is to get you back with me.

What is it?

Nothing.

Let's get going.

You've seen the grave, haven't you?

You know.

Yes, I know.

A...

fire?

Georgie doesn't know.

He's too young to understand.

A fire it was, will be, 200 years ago today.

You're here.

Yes.

I'm here.

Do you understand now?

My dears, it is because of what happened that we need your help.

You see, we're going to try to change the pattern of the wheel.

To change time.

Once, a very long time ago when I was alive, I did something wrong.

...wrong, with terrible consequences, not by

accident, but out of unkindness, callousness.

It is all forgiven long ago.

But now there's a chance, just a chance, that I might be able to put right the

terrible wrong that I did.

It's not an easy thing that I ask of you.

Why should we trust you?

I've done nothing to deserve it, I know.

What do you want us to do?

That will come clear soon enough.

I began all this with the message on the window,

instructions as to where to find the book.

I spammed the wheel, as it were.

But I have no idea how it will all work out, or how the pattern may be changed.

I do have some small powers at my disposal.

I give you my solemn oath.

That I will do my utmost to guard you against all dangers, however they may come.

We must hurry.

I only drank a little of the mixture.

Well, will you trust me?

Lucy?

Jamie?

Thank you.

.

Oh, there you is.

What are you doing?

Mooning around out here, consulting with that gardener's boy I have, no doubt.

No, Mrs. Wickens.

No, Mrs. Wickens.

Not only have you got no sense, miss, you ain't got no taste, neither.

I don't think she can see us.

What?

Well, you smell too nice.

She can't see us.

We're the ghosts to her.

I don't know how an educated gent like your dear

uncle can abide having you in the same house.

And set such a bad example for my dear Bella and all.

But why can't she see us?

Too old, too insensitive.

Old?

Insensitive?

Well, you little... No, no, I said my hands are growing cold.

Insensitive.

Whose fault is that?

Sneaking about into the rhododendrons to keep your hassignations.

I only came out here to speak a word to poor Georgie.

Oh.

Oh, don't talk to me like that, little brat.

It's so cold and dark down in the cellar.

Won't you please let him out?

After the things he said to me?

He'd be lucky if he gets out of Four Candlemas.

He'd be lucky if I don't flay him alive and

wear his skin around me skirts for a shuttling.

Oh, but please.

You shut your boat box, you little trollop.

You can join him in the bleeding cellar if you're so fond of his company.

Go inside.

We've got to get in.

Now what do we do?

Maybe we can walk through walls.

We're not proper ghosts, are we?

Just on another part of the wheel.

The Wheel of Time.

God, Jamie.

We're really here.

Two hundred years ago.

How do we get inside, then?

Pretty, pretty.

Meekin!

Meekin!

Yes, Mum?

Stand up straight.

Yes, Mum.

Why, I haven't burdened myself with a useless great article like your

I'll-never-know's listed like a bleeding shipwreck.

Sorry, Mum.

Escort this baggage to the cellar.

Yes, Mum.

Come along with Sarah.

When I was in service, I was a little girl.

I didn't know I was one of those girls you'd fall for.

And I thought you'd like to be a doctor.

You see, it makes me couldn't be more happy.

Oh, my darling.

Why can't you be a doctor?

Don't you think being a doctor is much more important than being a child or a woman?

Oh, I'm glad you're saying that.

Why, I...

I thought you were a doctor and I thought always you were a doctor.

Have a proper look.

Oh, yes.

Oh, your Bertie'll be struck all of a heap when he sees you, won't he, meekin'?

Stand up straight.

Oh, yes, ma'am.

She's pretty as a Gainsborough.

Sarah?

You look very beautiful, Bella.

Sorry if I makes you feel all dowdy and doll-like, Sarah.

It ain't my intention.

I just can't help it if I is so bonny.

She looks like a pig.

A pig in a wig.

Oh, God.

You're bleeding out.

I thought we couldn't see us.

Maybe she can.

Remember what Mr Blunden said about children believing?

Fan her, meekin'.

Fan her.

There, there, Miss Bella.

You're up to something.

Bella has only the mind of a child.

I think she can see you.

What is it, Bella and Ila?

You're asking my heart.

That's what it is.

Oh,

you're harsh now.

Then raise your hand.

There's nothing there.

You silly girl.

There ain't no such thing as ghosts.

Please, lovely, no, not.

I've got an idea.

Listen to me, Bella Wickens.

I shall haunt you.

Haunt you until your dying day.

Unless... Yes?

Speak on, fearful shade.

Unless you release Master Georgie from the cellar.

Huh?

Release him.

Do as you are...

Bidden?

Bidden.

Bidden.

Or be tormented by spirits for the rest of eternity.

Brilliant.

Let little Georgie out of the cellar, Ma.

What?

Then they'll go away.

What will go away?

Who?

Them.

There ain't nothing there.

You've been at the laudanum again.

There is, Ma, there is.

Let them go.

Go.

Oh, glory.

What is this infernal row?

Bella!

My little...

...pontefract cake.

What the deuce is going on here, Mrs. Wickens?

Oh, Bella's got the screaming abdads!

Oh, Bertie!

Bertie!

Tell her to let him out, or they'll be after me again.

Let her out?

What have you been up to?

He was so very rude to me.

You see, sir, Master Georgie, it's why I locked him up.

Then release him at once.

No, Bertie... At once, do you hear me?

I won't have my little syllabup to stress like this.

And fetch smelling salts.

But all them stairs, sir.

My old heart won't take it.

Smelling salts, mother-in-law.

Post-haste.

Meakin, release Master Georgie.

Sarah, go with her.

Yes, Uncle Bertie.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I shall deal with you...

later.

I don't suppose you're from the New World, are you?

Sort of, I guess.

The New World?

I've heard it's a wonderful place.

Fearfully long journey, I expect.

But when I'm older, Miss Sarah's taught me to read and write.

That's where I'll go.

America.

The thing is, Tom, we think Mrs Wickens is planning something.

We believe she means us harm.

Say the word and I'm there.

I'd do anything for Miss Sarah.

Maybe you guys could just run away.

Then there's no chance of you getting hurt.

I do not believe it works like that.

For now, everything must go on as it did before.

Is there anything special about tonight?

Midsummers, ain't it?

Mr Blondin's coming for dinner.

Miss Bella did say something about a special surprise.

Like an entertainment.

Oh, God.

Imagine.

I must attempt to intercede with Mr Blondin.

Make him understand.

Bloody Blondin!

He thinks of nothing but his bees.

Wait until I inherit.

I shall throw him out on his ear.

Tom, I think it's best that you stay out here.

So then we know that we have a friend on the outside.

Anything you say, Miss.

Come on.

We have to get going.

We need to be careful about him.

Who, Tom?

What do you mean?

You like Sarah, don't you?

No.

Are you jealous, Jamie Alex?

No.

No.

What?

We know he gets killed too, don't we?

He falls off the drainpipe.

We have to stop that from happening as well, right?

Right.

Are you quite all right?

Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

More or less.

As long as I keeps my eyes on the horizon.

Like.

London, my dear fellow.

Fine day, ain't it?

Fine.

It was a bright and cheerful afternoon towards the end of the sunny month of June.

Well, it won't be such a fine tomorrow, Albert, unless

we have a serious conversation about your finances.

Yes, well...

Not now, eh?

The air is like wine when the north wind conquers.

There are congregates and crowds.

The floating mountains are the silver clouds.

Shelly, London.

Shelly.

Husband!

Get in here.

Waste of a nice room, if you ask me.

What use is books ever been to a body, eh?

Exactly.

Never done me any good.

Mind you, you can't read.

Exactly.

Good for nothing but kindling.

Eh, husband?

Pretty, pretty.

But just a nice little conflagration, eh?

Enough to make it look...

accidental-like.

I can leave that with you, can't I?

Oh, yeah, yeah.

All that horrible learning.

What they tried to force on me at school.

Nah.

Oh.

But when?

Late, Rosalind.

The house is quiet.

Mm-hmm.

Candid plumb, sir.

No, no.

No, no.

Mm-hmm.

What do you think, London?

Charming, ain't it?

Such profligacy is unwise.

Darkness is cheap.

Albert, you would do well to remember that.

Is this going on for long?

It is imperative that we return to London tonight.

I'm sure it can't be avoided.

Would that it could.

Your creditors are pressing, and if you wish to stave off ruin...

Yes, well, keep your voice down, old boy.

Any for general broadcasting.

Bleeding door.

I mean, that wretched door, all flapping open and letting in all manner of draughts.

You must get that fixed.

Bertie dear.

Total Marbella.

Catching the influenza.

I shall add it to the list, mother-in-law.

The growing list.

Psst.

Psst.

Oh, I... Is it time?

Yes.

Mm-hmm.

Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, in order to do me the honour, the very

great honour of becoming my wife, dearest Arabella

was forced to give up her life on the boards.

And though Drury Lane's loss was my gain, it would be remiss of me indeed to forbid

my little egg custard from entertaining her public just as she did when first we met.

To that end, may I proudly present...

Er...

The soldier's widow will return from Waterloo.

Eh?

The soldier's widow, Waterloo!

Yes, well, there we are.

That

was the plaint of the wandering stranger.

Hungry and pale was the infant she bore.

Returned from a land of misfortune and danger,

she hoped to find peace on her dear native shore.

Faith

was her treasure, a treasure to her more than...

What is the meaning of this?

Eh?

You wicked, wicked girl.

Blunden, what the dickens do you mean by that?

Oh, please, Mr Blunden, you must believe us.

It's Mrs Wickens.

What?

She means to murder us.

Oh, you must not leave us alone with her.

You little sea devil.

What the deuce is going on here?

This, this, this, Albert, a slanderous insult to your unfortunate mother-in-law.

It's true.

It's all true.

She means to murder us to get Georgie's inheritance.

She cannot mean to accuse my mamma.

Of course not, my dear.

We all know your mother is a... A drunken old witch.

A splendid woman.

Oh, you cheeky girl, bleep.

You see, it's what I have to deal with, sir.

Indeed, Mrs Wickens.

It's shameful, God, that's shameful.

But what should I do?

I am by nature too soft, when what they need is a firm hand.

Mr Blunden, please, please.

You must listen.

Or she will murder us.

Tonight.

Lock them up, Mrs Wickens.

Lock them up.

Stand up.

Stand up.

Stand up straight.

Don't you look at me with your little piggy eyes.

It's all happening again, isn't it?

Shut it.

What are we going to do?

Shut it.

Turn those ugly little eyes away from me and you.

There's two of you?

Yes, there are.

There are two of us.

But we are not the same man.

He would not know you.

He's a shallow, insensitive creature.

He does not know that the terrible fate that awaits those two children or the

dreadful burden of guilt which he will shortlist you.

I should be content to leave everything in your hands, mother-in-law.

I fear Blunden and I must be off to London.

Yes, yes.

Business.

I understand your impatience, my dears.

But for the time being, everything must go on as before.

I ask your permission to...

Oh, cold comfort, yes.

Gruel.

Early to bed.

When the time for action comes, I shall return.

Never fear.

Never fear.

Lock them up, Mrs Wickens.

Lock them up.

And throw away the key.

I know just where to put them.

I've got an idea.

What?

You stay here.

Stay here.

Never fear, my little gumdrop.

I shall return as soon as ever I can to your precious embrace.

What's she done when we saw her?

You got a knife.

What?

Yeah, of course.

What are you going to do?

Stab old Wickens?

The thought of them little bleeders plotting and scheming against my poor mum.

I'm a miniature anarchist.

A new regime will start upon my return.

Have no fear.

What's she done with them?

She's locked them in the nursery.

Well, there's a drainpipe over there.

I could chin up there in no time.

No.

Don't risk it.

What?

It's too dangerous, Tom.

Don't try it.

You mustn't.

Get on.

We'll find another way.

That part of the house was built less than 15 years back.

It's as solid as a rock of Gibraltar.

Yes.

That shall count in moments, my little sugar elf.

Miss Rosario Bella.

Oh, I suppose you want to be the one that saves her.

Is that it?

Of course not.

It's just...

Okay, but be careful, all right?

At least wait till dawn.

Yes, Grandma.

Is you sure, Mum?

Yes, Meakin.

You deserve an evening off.

Midsummer tomorrow.

Thank you, Mum.

You go and surprise your old dad, eh?

How is he?

Not bad.

Farting's stopped.

That's good.

I'll give him my very best.

We'll see you right in Bonny tomorrow.

Yes, Mum.

Good night.

Bye.

Bye.

Bye.

Good night.

Good night.

I had a little job for you, Bella.

For Miss Sara and Master Georgie.

Oh.

That's very good of you, I must say, Ma, after

them awful things what they said about you.

Yes, very good of me.

Now, make sure they drinks it all up, Bella.

All of it.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, blasted, Gulliver, Tatar, Robinson, Bleeding, Crusoe, Farewell,

Principia, Mathematica.

Remember what Dave Tucker said.

Mr Blunden came back when he saw the fire, but he was too late.

Well, I've made sure he'll get back a lot sooner.

I've cut the horse's harness halfway through.

That's brilliant!

What if that was supposed to happen anyway?

Dave said the coach was meant to break down.

Well...

Did they drink it all?

Yes, Ma.

They was real hungry too.

Only Sarah wouldn't eat any of this.

She didn't eat the biscuits.

She insisted Georgie have them.

Well, they'll go hungry then, little fool.

If that's all the thanks I get for me kindness.

You didn't tell them that I sent the hot milk, though, did you?

Ow!

Ma, you're hurting me.

Did you?

No, of course not.

I told them what you told me to say.

That I'd done it secretly out of the kindness of my heart.

There's a good girl.

Only I don't want them to think I'm going soft, see?

Now, take that tray to the kitchen, love.

And wash them cups.

Thoroughly.

Yes, Ma.

We've got to get that key.

What?

Knock something over.

Break something.

Oh, God!

That gave me a tone.

Too much gin.

Oh, not enough.

That was the place!

It's all...

Stop!

No!

Why didn't you... I couldn't!

Couldn't break that vase because...

It wasn't broken in our time!

We can't change anything.

We were stupid to even try.

It's just not time yet.

When it is, Mr. Blunden will come.

You'll see.

Whoa.

Tom.

Tom,

man, it's not safe!

Don't worry about me.

You see, she's falling off a log.

.

.

.

.

.

This is it.

It's happening now.

Where's Mr. Blunden?

The shower opened the window.

How can they be asleep?

They know it's tonight.

They...

The drinks.

What?

The drinks Bella gave them.

They must have been drugged.

Oh, great.

Because we needed more problems.

Uh...

Uh, look, if the door's locked, we can't go in.

We'll need an axe or something.

There must be something.

You stay here and... and...

Stop Tom from falling off that drainpipe, okay?

Whatever you do, don't let him fall.

What if that part can't be changed?

Just try your best, okay?

Poor mites.

What a tragedy.

If only we'd been in time to save them, Bertie dear.

Oh, God!

Ritchie.

Ritchie.

Just a little conflagration, I said!

Not a great fire and bleed in London!

Husband, out!

We're kings!

Ritchie.

Oh, God.

Your woman took us so out of hand.

Mum!

Oh, enough!

I only did it for you, my love.

Only for you.

Ritchie, me?

Make yourself scarce, girl.

Go on.

Mum, what do you mean?

Go on!

You!

Get down from there, you little bar bitch!

Miss Shaw, open the window, please!

If you won't come down... Please!

Please!

...I'll bring you down!

Miss Shaw, open the window, please!

That's Georgie!

Sit down!

Miss Shaw, open the window, please!

Sarah!

Sarah!

I think she's waking up!

You think you had me beat then, eh?

You think I'd let you play the hero and spoil it all now?

You won't touch her.

You won't touch either of them.

I'll kill you before you touch her.

I'll kill you.

Ha, ha, ha.

Ritchie!

Get them out!

Get them both out!

Lucy!

I have to go back.

No, let me.

Be careful!

Jamie!

You're not so smart now, are you, missus?

I'm going back to Georgie now.

Too late.

Too late.

It's all my fault.

I can't do it.

I would if I could.

You're too late, Mr. Blanton!

You're always too late.

Jamie.

James?

It's time.

Look straight ahead.

I'm

not without Jamie!

Jamie!

Jamie!

God!

Jamie, wake up!

Somehow it's like he's been drugged.

Like he's there, but just out of reach.

Like he's trying to wake up.

It's all very strange.

Are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell us?

Like what?

You two weren't playing a game?

Got out of hand?

The truth is...

Jamie's lost in time.

We met these ghosts who...

Well, not ghosts, really.

Time travelers.

From 200 years ago.

Who lived up in the house and they came to us for help

because some very bad people were trying to kill them.

And they wanted us to stop it happening.

Even though it already happened, if you see what I mean.

And Mr. Blanton, he was the old man that came to our flat.

He's from their time, too, but also our time, this time.

Like, he's two people at once.

And he helped us go back 200 years to try and change the course of history.

At least that's what the plan was.

And then there was a fire, an awful fire.

And I think Jamie hasn't got back yet.

He's sort of drifting between then and now and...

I don't know how to get him back.

You two weren't playing a game?

Got out of hand?

No.

I just found him like that.

I'm sure he'll wake up in no time.

Put us all to rights.

Anyway, I don't think we should move him for now.

I'll see myself out.

I'll be right back, Mum.

I won't be long.

No, Lucy, please, please, please don't go out.

I promise I won't be long.

The good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.

Frederick Percival Blanton, who gave his life for the children in his care.

June 24th, 1821.

It's changed!

Oh, it's changed!

We did it!

Time has changed!

Oh, Mr. Blanton!

We did it!

Hello?

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie!

I'm sorry.

I've got to hold up.

I can't hear you.

It's Mr. Cleverton who's coming to see us.

Oh, God.

We have to leave, don't we?

He just says it's urgent.

I knew it.

I knew it was too good to be true.

Back to London.

Back to the noise.

Well, to, uh, Begin at the beginning.

Been through this with mother, but best explain as it affects you too.

And then son.

Some time now, Fern's been engaged in tracing the records of the Latimer family.

Once owned house.

Our late client, Mr. Michael Latimer, had no children.

So family died out.

His branch at least.

What we do know is that this Michael Latimer's great-great-grandfather,

George, had a sister, Sarah.

Sarah?

Yes.

Georgie?

Dad would never have found out what happened to Sarah Latimer or Sarah

Fletcher as she became.

But just the other day, strangest thing happened.

Letter arrived at the office from Sarah herself.

What?

Oh, not of course.

That she's still living.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Very old letter indeed.

Seems that George Latimer quarreled with his sister when she decided to marry a

young man many years had been gardener on the estate.

Those days, marriage like that.

Scandal.

Sadly, seems breach between brother, sister never healed.

Georgie, the little snob.

After all Tom did for them.

Shh.

Sarah and Tom.

How romantic.

Well, Mr. Claverton's inquiries then took him to

the United States where Sarah and Tom emigrated.

They had one child, Georgina.

Who married a young American called Alan.

Alan.

Alan who?

Alan who?

Alan.

A-double-L-E-N.

Roderick Patterson, Alan.

Point of fact.

Your dad's great-great-grandfather.

Oh!

You mean the house and everything.

House, everything.

The whole estate.

It's all ours.

Shut up!

Isn't it amazing?

Merry Christmas.

You've been living here all this time.

It's an extraordinary coincidence.

Or so we thought.

But upon reflection, not at all sure that our Mr. Blunden hadn't known all along.

He's not been well, as you know.

Not quite himself.

You can say that again.

Indeed, my suspicion is he may have been

responsible for finding Sarah Latham's letter.

Yeah, I think you're probably right.

Oh, well.

Why don't you ask him?

Ask?

It really is a lovely spot, isn't it?

Good to know that it will once more be in safe hands.

The wheel of time turns.

Turns again.

Well, we'll leave you in peace.

Legal stuff to go through.

Boring.

But that's for another day.

My dears.

Lucy.

Jamie.

Come along, Claverton.

And, um...

Smith.

Yes.

Smith.

Yes.

I don't suppose...

Well... Yes?

Never did see any...

ghosts?

We're all ghosts, in a way.

Don't you think?

It just depends on your point of view.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Ooh.

Oh.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Thank you very much for coming.

Thank you very much for having us.

Ta-ta.

Pretty.

Farewell.

Ta-ta.

Thank you very much.

Goodbye, my dears.

Goodbye.

Bye.

Bye.