All language subtitles for 103 - The Gardeners of Eden

Welcome to the BBC Home Service.

This week, my guest on Memory Lane
Melodies is Mrs Octavia Eden, who I

describe as the Pablo Picasso of flower
arranging.

Would you, darling?

That's so sweet of you.

Owner of a chain of flower shops.

You could call it a daisy chain.

And a mainstay of the London social
scene.

So it came as a surprise this week when
she announced that she was moving to the

sleepy English village of Kembleford.

And, well, the question we all must be
asking is, why?

Well, I suppose it gives my life a
certain symmetry.

I was born in Kembleford, and now I'm
going to die there.

Well, hopefully that won't be for some
time to come. Oh, no, darling. The

doctors have told me there's nothing
they can do for me.

I should be around for St.

Ferdinand's Day, but I probably won't
meet me for months.

Mind that Ming vase, please. That's
travelled 6 ,000 miles to be here.

And be very careful with that violin.

It was a gift from Yehudi Menuhin.

Do you not think she's doing too much?
Yes, I do.

Oh,

Father, she's so magnificent.

She's done the flowers for three royal
weddings.

And she had a tulip named after her.

I understand she's written an
autobiography.

Yes, thank you for reminding me.

Oh, I bought a copy of it.

And oh, what a life she's had.

I'd love to get her to sign it, but she
does seem awfully busy.

Oh, well, I think that can be arranged.

Who's it for?

Isabel Devine.

And I'm Father Brown.

Octavia Eden.

Hello, everyone.

Oh, it's so sweet to be back in
Kenfelford.

Now she's bringing out her clothes.

Why does she need so many hats? She's
only got one head.

Well, I suppose as a very successful
woman, she must get enough to open lots

things.

Shop and hospital.

She's going to need plenty of hats for
all of that.

Apparently, she's turning the manor into
a flower school.

Oh, we'll have giggling schoolgirls from
morning till night.

It's really nice that she's bringing
some life into the place. We had some

times there.

So now you add a few stems of sweet
William.

This one.

Mm -hm. Mm -hm.

Oh, no, careful you don't obscure the
astromere.

Why would he ever want to do this?

You were invited for dinner and you
wanted to bring a nice bouquet.

I live next door to a graveyard.

Perhaps Miss Palmer does not have any
sympathy for arranged flowers.

Each to their own.

Oh, well.

Mrs Eden has invited us round to her
music and movement class tomorrow,

including you, Father Brown. Really?

Mm -hmm.

I thought with her illness she'd be much
frailer, but she does seem in very fine

fettle.

You're right.

Still in one piece.

Unlike my porcelain collection.

Auntie. Oh, Noelle.

I'm glad you're here. We really must
discuss this business of my legacy.

Well, surely, as your only daughter,
I... You will be well provided for. But

will inherit the family firm?

Who will ensure that 40 years of hard
graft don't end up on the compost heap?

So, I've set you a series of tests.

Oh, yeah?

Number one, I'm having a little party. I
want to meet the neighbours.

And I want you to make the drinks.

Now, they must consist entirely of
botanical ingredients.

You know, jasmine gin or wildflower
whiskey, that sort of thing.

And whoever creates the most delectable
selection is the winner.

But I don't even drink alcohol.

And Lizzie knows all about herbs and
botanical ingredients.

And you need to work ten times harder.

Now, music and movement.

This is awfully jolly.

Yeah, if you like that sort of thing.

Hello. Good morning.

Father Brown, I'm so glad you came.

I didn't want you to feel left out.
Thank you.

Although I don't think I'll be limbering
up.

You can always work the gramophone.

Bless you.

That's that hay fever back again.

Are you taking those pills?

Now, do be careful, because this was a
present from Daddy. I will take the

utmost care.

Mrs Malt.

What a surprise.

Yes. I hope you don't mind, but I used
to live here, and I was curious to see

the garden. Perfect timing.

Please, do join us.

There you go.

All right, everybody. Morning.

Now, find a space where you can all
stretch out.

Excellent. And take a deep breath.

Music, please. Music.

Thank you.

And follow me. And up and round and up
and

round. Marjorie!

What were you thinking?

Mrs. Mulch, you have a mind of your own.

You're more than welcome to stay with
us.

So sorry about your gramophone.

Well, you didn't smash it. Oh, well,
we'll just have to proceed without

Darling, don't let it upset you.

We've got all these guests to entertain,
and we've got a party to organise.

Now, come on.

All right, let's try again.

Now, get ready, arms out, stretch.

and I'm so looking forward to being part
of your charming community.

Now, do help yourself to liquid
refreshments, and please tell me which

prefer.

Apparently, Father, this one is rum
infused with rhubarb.

Oh, I can taste the rhubarb.

And is that a hint of hibiscus flower?

You have an awfully good palate.

It's hibiscus subdifera from my very own
herb garden in London.

Inspector, will you try one of these
interesting concoctions?

Well, probably best not.

Oh, come on.

You're not on duty.

Well, sadly, I always appear to be on
duty, but do tell me about them.

Now do.

This one is vodka flavoured with orange
blossom.

It kind of tastes like pond water.

I'd kind of agree.

And get rid of these blooms.

Wake up.

Oh, it's me.

God bless you.

Thank you.

Mrs Munch.

Oh, Father.

I'm so sorry about my husband's
behaviour.

There's no need to apologise.

John just doesn't like...

Now he's made a fuss and got it out of
his system. I'm sure things will

Mr. Malt, are you all right? John?

Why, Archery, why?

In nomine Patris, in fili, in spiritus
sancti.

Amen.

On this occasion...

I think we can both agree on the simple
truth, Father.

I've searched for the truth my whole
life, and it is never simple.

Well, it appears he was poisoned, and as
we both saw him arrive, it must have

happened at home.

I prefer to reserve my judgment on that.

Father, his last words condemn her.

Mrs Mulch. Yes?

Would you accompany me to the station?

First thing this morning, I gave him his
porridge, made with water and a pinch

of silk.

Did he seem unwell at this point?

He was grumbling about not having slept
and a terrible pain in his guts, but

that's not unusual.

Yes, would it be fair to say your
husband had a temper on him?

He was just sad.

Life passing him by.

All of his dreams flipping away.

But he really wasn't a bad man.

And then he dragged you home from the
manor the other day, causing that

He could sometimes be a little firm.

But I never fought back.

He's my husband.

He was your husband.

Do you know of anyone who gave him
anything to eat or drink recently?

Not that I know of.

Then I'm afraid you leave me no choice.

Marjorie Mulch, I'm arresting you on
suspicion of the murder of John Mulch.

You're not obliged to say anything, but
anything you say may be given in

evidence.

Mrs Mulch, how are you bearing up?

I feel like I'm in a bad dream, Father.

I'm sorry to have to ask you this.

Are you responsible for the death of
your husband?

No.

Although I have been tempted down the
years.

John could start an argument in an empty
room.

Have there been any recent altercations?

Well, there was something.

I thought I'd imagined it, but I woke up
in the middle of the night last night.

And I thought I heard voices outside.

I found it like John arguing with a
woman.

Did you hear any of the words that were
spoken?

No.

It was just a blur.

But I did hear a sneeze.

Sorry.

That's not very useful, is it? No.

On the contrary, that is most useful.

I can assure you, Marjorie, that I will
find out who is responsible for your

husband's death and you will walk out of
here with your head held high.

Here you are, Mother.

Oh, thank you, darling.

Please don't.

Don't what?

Stare at me as if I'm about to die.

I actually feel quite well today.

I'm sorry.

It's just seeing that poor man.

I know he wasn't the nicest of people.

Oh, Noelle, we were just talking about
Mr Mulch's death, and it's given me an

idea for your second task.

I want you both to create a wreath.

Poor Mrs Mulch won't be able to arrange
anything.

Splendid. I'll get on to it.

You're using a man's death for your
competition.

Darling, there are two types of florist
in this world.

Ruthless money -grabbing mercenaries and
unsuccessful ones.

You need to work out which camp you're
in.

Who is it?

Oh, Father Bra.

Good afternoon.

I thought I'd pay you a visit.

See how you all are after the
unfortunate ending to your garden party.

Yes, well, we're all still reeling.

Of course.

You must surely have known Mr Mulch from
Kembleford all those years ago.

I can't say I do remember him. It was
such a long time ago.

Seems like another world.

Looking back...

Father Brown, my mother is not well and
I don't think she's ready to receive

guests.

Miss Sharma, may we talk?

How long have you lived with your aunt?

25 years.

She asked me to move in when my mother
died and I've never looked back.

So it must be a great shock to see her
so unwell.

It is.

In my line of work, I'm always arranging
flowers for funerals.

And it's only just hit me that one day
I'll have to make a wreath.

Everyone is so fond of her.

Except the late Mr Mulch.

We barely knew him.

And yet, in the middle of last night, I
think you went round to see him.

Someone heard you sneezing.

I was in bed when I heard a noise.

Someone moving through the house,
creeping about downstairs.

I came down to the dining room and
someone had opened up Auntie Octavia's

bureau.

What did you do?

I looked outside and there he was,
heading across the garden.

So I followed him to his house and told
him never to darken our door again.

Why did you not call the police?

My aunt is very fragile.

She doesn't need any unnecessary stress
at the moment.

I'm surprised there are so many people.

Probably come to check he's really dead.

Marjorie, you have my condolences. Thank
you.

Thank you for the flowers.

They're so beautiful.

You're welcome.

He has good reason to be grateful.

Your wreath is quite magnificent.

All the airy tracery of the willow herb
is just sublime.

Thank you.

And Noel, yours, so stark, with the
wheat and the teasel and the deep purple

hellebore.

On reflection, I think... I think yours
says more about the man himself. He's

very prickly.

So you're the winner.

Congratulations.

Now, I have some errands to attend to,
so I'll see you both later.

How strange.

Miss Palmer.

Yes? Follow that florist.

Okay. I know I'm holding an hammer, but
I didn't smash that window.

Right. Who did, then? Don't tell me.

Dame Nellie Melville was passing by. You
fancied her things on?

No. It was her.

Mrs Eden. She had an hammer in her
handbag.

Where is she now, then?

I don't know.

She must have scarped it.

Right. Well, Miss Palmer, I think it's
time for you to scarf her.

Right down to the police station.

Father Brown, as a man of God, you have
a remarkable gift of leading people

astray. I apologise, Chief Inspector.

I peremptorily told Miss Palmer to
follow someone. I had no idea she would

follow them onto private property.

We're sorry for wasting your precious
time.

And if you were to release her, I won't
let her out of my life, I promise.

Well, you're in luck, Mrs Divine, as
we're rather short of cells.

Follow me.

Any news on cause of death?

Yes, there is, Father.

Mr Maltz died of aconite poisoning.

Aconite? It's a botanical toxin.

Unusual thing for Mrs Maltz to have in
her possession.

On the contrary, it's easily extracted
from wolf's bane, a plant which grows

over the Cotswolds, including Mrs.
Motch's back garden.

Sergeant, see me in my office.

And as a result, Father, she's just been
charged with murder.

Oh, you're back.

How was the funeral?

It was fine.

But people were surprised when you
walked out before it began.

Oh, I'm sorry. It's difficult going to
funerals. Oh, Mother, if I could swap

with you, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Well, you can't, so don't go on about

And it's time for your final task.

I want you to organise a wake.

Who? Mine. I think the idea is one
doesn't get to go to one's own wake. I

want an evening that's all about me with
flowers and flamboyance, music and

magic. You can have one half of the
ballroom and you the other.

And whoever wins, wins everything.

I'm telling you.

She had an hammer.

A hammer in her handbag.

Florists frequently use hammers to
pulverize the stems of their blooms.

Oh, I stand corrected.

Mrs Eden is going to be reading her book
later at the Camberford Ladies'

Society. Then you must go along and try
and find out why she left Camberford all

those years ago.

And what will you be up to?

Burglary.

There is no way I'm going back in there
again.

No, I need you to stand guard.

What are you after?

Whatever Mrs Eden was after.

But my path through life has been lined
with bluebells and buddleia.

I hold my head up high and kiss the
rain.

Thank you, everyone. And now, Mrs Eden
will be happy to answer any questions.

Any relevant questions, that is, about
the book.

Hello? Yes. I was so moved by the
passage in Chapter 1 where you

describe walking through the streets of
London, lost and alone, until a little

buttercup poking through the pavement
inspires you to carry on.

Thank you. Yes, I was quite pleased with
that. But why exactly were you so sad?

Oh, it was the usual. I came to London
full of dreams and discovered that the

streets really weren't paved with gold.
So there wasn't something more specific?

No. So if there are no further
questions, thank you. It's just you were

very happy time of it in Kembleford at
the beginning of the chapter.

And suddenly you're so full of woe. Yes,
because I had my heart broken. I was

eaten up and chewed and spat up.

Thank you, everyone. And now my mother
will be signing copies in the vestibule.

Every single drawer has been rifled.

Well, did you find anything?

No.

But I expect Mrs Eden did.

What are those doing there?

They're rose petals.

Probably fell off a rose bush.

No roses grow in this garden.

So how did they get here?

Mrs Eden.

Oh, Father Brown.

I still, thank God, I can get down on my
knees to plant things.

But sometimes I need human help to get
up again. Oh!

Thank you.

Lizzie doesn't like the gardening.

She thinks I should lie down in a
darkened room.

But I think it's vital.

A society...

grows great when old men plant trees
whose shade they know they shall never

in. I agree.

And it's important to hand on knowledge.

May I have a word?

Of course.

Take a pew.

You know, when I was a girl, I used to
walk past

this place on my way to school.

It seemed like a fairy tale castle.

And sitting here now, I almost expect to
wake up seven years old, my mother

calling me.

And if you did wake up as a child, would
you live your life differently?

Oh, no.

No. I'd make the same mistakes again,
but with even more relish.

What about John Mulch?

Is he a mistake?

I assume you were lovers.

Goodness.

For a man who must renounce worldly
pleasures, you're surprisingly worldly

And your answer?

Yes.

I loved him more than life itself.

We were together six months.

But then he met Marjorie, whose father
owned the manor.

Well, frankly, he married the house.

Until he realised it was rather high
maintenance.

And that was why you left Kembleford?

Yes.

Because I couldn't stop crying from
morning till night.

And at least in London, the noise was
drowned out by the traffic.

This morning, you broke into John
Maltese's house.

What were you searching for?

Oh, I don't know what I was looking for.
A love letter, some

record of the feelings he might have
had.

What did you find?

Nothing.

His childhood diary was full of cricket
scores.

His heart must have been made of ice.

It caused you immense pain.

Did you ever wish to take revenge on
him?

No. Yes.

For 30 years, I thought of burning this
place down, destroying John and the

thing he loved most.

But then I realized, whilst he was
struggling to pay heating bills, I

had become a rather wealthy woman.

Really? You couldn't ask for sweeter
revenge?

Mrs Eden and Mr Mulch?

I don't want to think about that.

Then don't, Miss Palmer.

But I wonder, did Mrs Mulch know about
their relationship?

Oh, you know that rose petal that he
gave me?

Did you find a match?

No, but I did find this book.

With pictures of flowers in it. That
belongs to Mrs Eden.

Mrs Eden's daughter.

I've seen her consulting me. Well, it
doesn't belong to you.

I'll return it forthwith.

But first, there's a little trick with a
book.

If you let it fall open naturally, it
will show you which page has been most

frequently used.

I'm always consulting the poison
section.

When you scour the hedgerows, as I do,
you need to know if the plant you're

picking is poisonous.

Oh, I see.

Though many plants are toxic if taken to
excess.

Caffeine, curare, even aspirin.

These things will cure us or kill us.

So, it would be fair to say that you
keep poisonous substances in your

chest?

Colchicum autumnali, autum crocus. Now,
this is a very effective cure for gout,

but if you double the dose, you kill
both the gout and the person suffering

it.

But actinitum napalus, that's another
plant toxin, isn't it? Yes, I think I

some of that somewhere.

Half empty.

This is the poison that finished off Mr
Mulch.

I didn't like the man, but he would have
been very suspicious if I'd offered him

something to eat or drink.

We weren't exactly the best of chums.

Could anyone else have borrowed your
apothecary kit?

No.

No, this is for my use only.

Mimosa?

I must have mimosa.

Noel, what are you doing?

I'm recreating the bouquet Auntie
Octavia had at her wedding.

I was going to do that.

Oh, well, now you won't have to bother.

This is ridiculous.

Mother is dying, and she's got us
running around in circles playing these

games. Well, you could always just...

If I do win control of the business, I'd
find a position for you somewhere.

How did you become so cold and hard and
unfeeling?

I learned a while ago that a thing has
to be firm to survive.

I remember when you came to live with
us.

Oh,

you were the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen.

You were just like Mother.

And that meant I could be me.

worked out for you.

Noelle? Yes?

What would happen if we refused to
compete and joined forces to give Mother

best party of her life?

She could disown us.

Would that be so bad?

To work together?

And be friends again?

Father, have you found out who did this?

Not yet.

Mrs Mulch, your husband's past came back
to haunt him.

Many years ago, he had a relationship
with Octavia Eden.

Did you know there was someone else
before you?

Yes.

I knew there was someone.

But John could never talk about his
feelings.

Then one day I found a note in his
study.

What did it say?

It was a long time ago, but... I
remember every word.

I've lost the baby.

Now I'll be out of your life forever.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas?

Yes.

Oh, thank you, everyone, for coming.

Some time ago, my doctors told me I had
a growth.

This... surprised me, as it wasn't the
growing season.

Naturally, I have made arrangements, and
my family have been arranging my

funeral. Now, I didn't want to miss
that, so I asked for a sneak preview.

Lizzie, Noel, this is quite wonderful.

Now, I don't want any sadness or frowns.
I just want you all to

enjoy the champagne.

Cheers.

I hear you've been to see Mrs Mulch

again, Father.

Yes, I have.

As much as I would love her to be
innocent, her husband was poisoned.

and she is the only person who made his
meals.

This is exquisite.

My very first shop.

Who is responsible for what?

Well, Mother, I hope you won't be too
cross, but we hated having to be at war.

We decided to make peace, and we did all
of this together.

Oh, darling, that's just what I wanted
you to do.

You... You've been fighting for so long
now and I don't know whether it's

jealousy or fear of what might happen
when I'm gone, but you're better as a

pair. You need each other.

Oh, I think I need to sit down.

Could you catch me a chair?

Oh.

What is the name of Mrs. Eaton's book?

A Rose Amongst the Thorns?

Yes.

Yes.

Miss Sharma.

Might I have a private word?

Yes,

Father, this way.

Please, I can't be too long.

Auntie Octavia's very ill.

You've been very loyal, helping her
return to her roots.

A happy homecoming.

Apart from the appearance of one man.

John Mulch.

A very disagreeable character.

And yet, he was once her lover.

And I believe the father of her first
child.

45 years ago, she sent him a note saying
she'd lost a baby.

In a way, she had.

She entrusted the care of the newborn to
her sister.

And as it was Christmas, they called the
little girl Noelle.

I believe your mother loves you very
much.

But your father, John Mulch, was a man
with very little

love in him.

He broke into the house and went through
your mother's things.

What was he looking for?

He was furious at Mrs. Eden's return.

Did he want to find something that
damaged her?

He got more than he bargained for.

What did he find?

Her diary.

Your birth certificate.

Either way, he found out the truth.

And so did you.

I chased after him.

There must be some mistake.

You can't be my father.

It was news to me, too.

You were supposed to have died at birth.

I wish you had.

He was an astonishingly cruel man.

Not the sort to die peacefully in his
bed.

At first I wondered, how is it done?

What did he eat?

But, of course, the best way to poison
someone is through the bloodstream.

You gathered a bunch of roses for John
Mulch, dipping the thorns in poison.

If he had accepted your gift graciously,
he would still be alive.

But he rejected it.

Angrily, no doubt.

You pressed the bouquet into his hands.

And his fate was revealed.

Do you think I care?

Do you think he ever gave a second
thought for me?

I do not believe that you could ever
have made peace with him.

But you must make peace with God.

Noelle, Mother needs to see you.

I was worried about you.

Hello, Mother.

You know.

I know everything.

Oh, darling.

I never meant to hurt you.

I wish it could have been different. I
wish the world would have allowed us to

be together.

You were always my daughter.

I'm so proud of you.

Both of you.

Now, be good to each other.

I love you.

I want you both to have a wonderful
life.

Think of me as the garden grows.

As you grow.

Please, be gentle with him.

Darling, no need to worry.

I'm a tough old thing.

I'm not.

I don't know how I'll cope without you
and Mother.

Just remember, we're both cuttings from
the finest,

strongest, in the whole forest.

She likes sweet Williams.

I'm sure she will.

Oh, hello.

What's this?

Just to say, um, welcome to freedom.

Thank you.

I thought I'd never see another flower
again.

Hello there, Mrs Mulch. It's so nice to
see you.

Oh, and you.

Oh, um, I've got a present for you.

Oh?

For finding the truth.

I only hope that people will understand
why my sister was driven to it. I know

what this is. This is a tuliper Octavia,
named after your mother. Indeed.

I'm going to send one of those to
everyone who knew her.

This week on Memory Lane Melodies, some
sad news.

The celebrated flower arranger Octavia
Eden has passed away.

Last time she appeared on the programme,
I asked why she had devoted her life to

flowers. She said, because flowers are
life.

Dirt is thrown at them, water falls on
them, and still they

rise, beautiful and defiant, with
colours to

dazzle your dreams.

More Father Brown at 1 .45 on BBC One
next Friday.

Making Balbons one day, dreaming up
cartoons the other. The Life of the

Apprentice, press read to watch on
iPlayer.

Tile the bathroom, hang the disco ball
and sit on the bidet. Amanda and Alan's

Italian job continues tonight at half
past eight.