All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders - 10x06 - Picture of Innocence.DvdRip.English.HI.orig.Addic7ed.com

Cheese.

Will you get out of the way?
I'm trying to photograph this tree.

Well, so am I,

so you'll just have to wait.

Oh, yes. Got a real cracker here,
Lionel.

One for the Annual Exhibition,
I reckon.

Your heap of junk hasn't got
a prayer, up against this baby.

Get out of my way!

God, I'd love to give you
a good thumping.

Help yourself.

Why not finish me off
while you're about it?

After all, you're the one
who ruined my life.

Don't be pathetic.

Well, you can forget about
the Annual Exhibition.

The Committee has decided not to
accept digital images this year.

What?

What?!

SHOP BELL JINGLES

Would I be right in thinking
a 1/30th at F22, Sebastian?

Spot on, Dad.

I want to talk to you, Madrigal.

What the hell are you playing at?

I want to talk to you
about the Annual Exhibition.

That's five seconds, Dad.

Will you kindly move?

Three...two...

one... Time, Dad.

Damn it, Bright!
You know perfectly well

I have to expose the film
at nine o'clock precisely.

What's this nonsense about
digital photos not being eligible
for the Annual Exhibition?

It was a unanimous decision
by the Committee.

The Committee?

You mean, you and those old farts
that hang around in your junk shop?

You wouldn't know a good photo if
it jumped up and bit you on the bum!

Did you see that?

Extraordinary behaviour.
Extraordinary.

Better sit down, Headley.
You look a bit shaken up, old mate.

The man's a psychopath.

What was he on about, anyway?

Not being able to show digital
photographs in the Exhibition.

BOTH: Morning, Sonia.

Ah, there you are, my dear.

Is there the slenderest possibility
of tea, do you think?

Headley, make it yourself.

I am going into Causton
to do the shopping.

Seb, you can come with me.

No, he can't. He's helping me in
the shop. You stay here, Sebastian.

Help you?

Do what?

You're not going to get
any customers.

He has to learn the business,
hasn't he?

(SCOFFS) The business.

I'll be better off without him
anyway, the useless article.

Men.

Useless articles!

Good morning, Philomena.

Oh, hello, Philly.
Are you off?

Yes, Dad. Just came to say goodbye.

Leaving your poor father
to fend for himself, Philomena?

Only till Friday.

I can look after myself,
can't I, Philly?

How's the course going?

It's all right.

So I'll maybe see you Friday, Seb.

Maybe. Dunno.

Make some tea, will you, dear boy?

Come into the office, you two.

I've made my decision about the
poster for the Annual Exhibition.

Bye, Dad.

Wish me luck.

It's a great photo, Dad,
one of your best.

Can I ask you something, Seb?

OK.

Are we actually going out, or not?

Cos I'm a bit confused.

We spend all this time together,
but we never...you know.

You don't seem interested in -
I like...

showing you my photographs.

Is there someone else, Seb?

Is it serious?

I see.

Well...

Good for you.

Bye, then.

I'll maybe see you Friday.

Yeah?

Yeah, maybe see you Friday.

You had a run-in with Steve Bright,
as well, did you, Lionel?

Yes, while I was shooting
my favourite oak.

We almost came to blows.

It must be tricky for you, living
in the same village, and so on.

Bright's the reason your missus
ran off to Spain, isn't it?

Now then, water under the bridge,
Edward.

Ah, here we are.

I've cut the short list down to two.

And I'm happy to say that
both the photographers in question

are present today.

Edward, what can I say?

This photograph

is everything I would expect
from you.

Cheers, Headley.

It was a close-run thing.

But in the end,
I had to go with Lionel.

Lionel here has been photographing

the trees of Luxton Wood
for 20 years now.

22.

So, here it is.

The poster for the Luxton
Photographic Society
Annual Exhibition.

Well done, Lionel.

Richly deserved, old mate.
Thanks, Eddie.

Look at that, huh?

Look how the light glows.

No batteries, gentlemen,
no microchips,

and no damn pixels!

It suddenly occurred to me.

I see Tom every day in the office...

..but he's never met Imogen.

Anyway, I thought we'd deliver
the wedding invitation personally.

We'd love to come to the wedding.

And it's lovely to meet you
at last, Imogen. Isn't it, Tom?

Yes.

Harry Kitteridge is coming, Tom.
I'll stick you on his table.

You can chat about old times, eh?

Better be going.
Got a meeting with the caterers.

Thank you very much indeed
for the drink.

You're welcome.

It's great to have met you both.
I've heard so much about you.

Oh, Tom. Did you get my email?

I've got this report to do
on restructuring
for the Chief Constable.

I'd value your input.

Oh, the email, yes, of course.

Great. Catch you later.

Come on, tiger. Let's go.

(LAUGHS)

Bye-bye.
Bye.

DOOR CLOSES

Email? What email?
Oh, don't worry, I'll sort it.

All he wants is some management guff
about staffing levels.

How do policemen like Martin Spellman
ever find time to catch criminals?

What a lovely couple.

Anyway, I'd better be off.
I'll see you tomorrow.

Bye, Ben. Nice to see you.

What's wrong with you?

"I'll stick you on Harry Kitteridge's
table. You can talk over old times."

Harry Kitteridge is 75 years old,
if he's a day.

Spellman thinks
I'm the same vintage.

Don't be silly.
Of course he doesn't.

Well, he's no spring chicken himself.

This is his third marriage.

Talk about a triumph
of hope over experience.

What about this?
I think we should go.

Go where?
The Luxton Deeping

Annual Photographic Society
Exhibition.

We're invited to the private view
tomorrow evening.

Oh, must we?

Yes, we must.

You need to get out more, Tom.

Maybe I could coax you
to come down to the studio now,

get a couple of shots
of how you would be...

It was quite hard getting him
to stay there with the paws...

As you can see, he's got his little
claws just caught up in there...

CONVERSATION AND LAUGHTER

Those are mine.

I've photographed every meal
I've eaten for the last ten years.

They're all...very similar.

I have the same meal.
Veggie burgers and peas.

This year, I've switched
from tinned peas to frozen.

The change in colour
has been really exciting.

I can imagine.
May I have another of those?

Ladies and gentlemen.

Ladies and gentlemen.
Ssh, ssh, ssh.

Thank you... Thank you.

Welcome to the 78th Luxton Deeping
Photographic Society
Annual Exhibition.

The Society was founded
by my grandfather, Casper Madrigal,

with the aim of promoting
the art of film photography,

that is to say,
photographic images

produced without the intervention
of computers...

Hear, hear.
JEERING, DERISIVE LAUGHTER

..fine examples of which can be seen
on the walls all around you.

Ladies and gentlemen,

can I have your attention, please?

Those old farts over there

would have us living
in the 20th century for ever.

Well, this is the 21st century,
folks,

and times, they are a-changing.
Excuse me.

So we've formed
the Luxton Digital Camera Club...

BOOING
..as of today. Join us,

and join the 21st century!

Show some bloody manners, Bright!
This isn't the time or the place.

It's the tree-hugger.
Give us a smile, Lionel.

LAUGHTER

SHOUTS OF ENCOURAGEMENT

Come on, Bell!

WHIRRING, BEEPING

MURMURING

The battery's run out.
LAUGHTER, CHEERING

His battery's run out!

CLICK

I'll get you one of these days,
pal. That's a promise.

CLICK, LAUGHTER

Useless articles.

This is a lot more lively
than I thought it would be.

What is that?

You tell me.

Hey! That's not in the exhibition.

Where on earth did that come from?

What does this mean, Tom?
Who is that woman?

I don't know.

It's Mum.

My God, you're right.

It's my wife.

I can assure you, this photograph
was not selected for the Exhibition.

I've never seen that woman before,
let alone kissed her.

Of course you haven't. The image
has been "digitally manipulated".

You can tell it's digital. The lack
of depth, the dodgy skin tones.

Look at the shadows on your face
and hers. Different light sources.

Two separate photos put together
on some damned computer.

And the woman is your wife?
Yes. She lives in Spain now.

Ran off with her yoga instructor.

He's what,
15 years younger than her?

Someone has gone to considerable
length to play a prank on you,
Inspector.

Steve Bright and his mates,
obviously.

Do you know any of them?
No. No, I don't.

Who invited you
to the private view?

I don't know. I assumed
it was one of your friends.

Well, I assumed
it was one of YOUR friends.

Well, I would like
to apologise to you both

on behalf
of the Photographic Society.

And they say the camera never lies.

Cameras don't lie. People do.

People with computers.

Someone at Luxton Deeping
bears a grudge, obviously.

Someone you arrested
once upon a time.

And this is their way
at getting back at you.

Tom?

Hello?

Joyce, I know who this woman is.

You know her?

Why didn't you say?

I've only just recognised her.

Last time I saw her
was 30 years ago.

Then she used to be called
Marion Nicholson.

I went out with her once or twice.

Before I met you.

She doesn't look your type.
No, no.

That was part of the reason
why it only lasted for...erm...

Yes?

..a month...or so.

Five or six months.

Took you a time to work out
she wasn't your type.

Ah-ha. She dumped you.

Well, I can't remember. It's -
(LAUGHS)

I got you on the rebound.

It's not... It's not funny.

What's funny is you never, ever
mentioned her before.

Well, Joyce...

there wasn't really that much
to mention.

Can I ask you something, Tom?
Well, yes... What?

Are you absolutely certain
you haven't seen this woman
for 30 years?

I've told you, I'm absolutely sure.

What an eventful evening.

We should go out more often.
(CHUCKLES)

Is that you, Bright?

Aagh!

Sir.

Strangled by the cord
of his light meter, it seems.

And not too long ago, I'd say.

The woman over there found him
when she was walking her dog.

His name's Lionel Bell.

He lives in the village
with his daughter.

Does she know?
Not yet, sir.

The wife lives abroad.
Yes, Spain.

I met Mr Bell the night before last.

There's a coincidence.

I knew his wife...
once, long time ago.

Now, what's this?

Something in his mouth.

What's that?

A memory card from a digital camera.

Whatever's on it, I want prints
as soon as possible.

Let's get the film from his camera
developed, as well.

Sir.

And now... (SIGHS)
..better go and see the daughter.

I'll get back to you
as soon as I can. Thank you.

Let's get him bagged up.

So, you met the victim?
Yes, I did.

He was at an exhibition the local
photographic society had put on.

He got into some kind of altercation
with another fellow.

What about?
Dunno.

It shouldn't be too hard
to find out, though.

There were 50-odd witnesses
apart from me.

Last time I saw Dad
was yesterday morning.

I stay with friends in London
a couple of nights a week

as I'm doing a bookbinding course,
but I spoke to him yesterday.

When I'm in London
I phone him every night.

How did he seem?

Fine.

Except...

Except what?

When I got back today, I found that.

He must have had
a visitor last night

but didn't mention it
when I rang him.

It's the sort of thing
he would have told me.

Did he have many visitors?
No, not really.

He didn't socialise much.

Especially since Mum...
since Mum left.

The only people he saw were
Headley Madrigal

and Eddie Carfax
from the Photo Soc.

The only time he was truly happy

was when he was in the woods
photographing the trees.

Thanks. We can come back
and talk later, if you like.

It's OK.

Philomena, your dad seemed to have
got into some sort of confrontation

at the private view,
with a man called Steve Bright.

Do you know what all that was about?

It was because the Photo Soc
had banned digital photography
from the Exhibition.

Dad was just...you know,

annoyed that Steve Bright ruined
the private view.

Mm. All right, all right,
Philomena.

That'll be all for the time being.

Jones, can you find a SOCO

and get the bottle and the glasses
bagged for Forensics. Sir.

Philomena.

Do you still keep in touch
with your mum, then?

No, not really.

And you haven't seen her
since she went to Spain?

I don't like her boyfriend much.

You used to know her, didn't you?
Yes. Yes, I did.

But it was a long time ago.

When you knew her,

was...was she happy?

Erm...I think she was, yes,

but, as I say,
it was a long time ago, Philomena.

My friends call me Philly.

Ah-ha. Right, I see.

Yup, thanks. Got that.

This Steve Bright lives just outside
the village on the Causton Road.

Does he?

Let's have a chat with Lionel Bell's
mates first, though, shall we?

Come on.

Jones, something peculiar happened
at this private view.

The bust-up between Bell and Bright?
No. There was a photograph.

Well, it was a photography
exhibition, wasn't it?

A photograph of me.
Oh, fame at last!

A very embarrassing photograph.

Lionel was a dear, dear friend

and one of the finest photographers
of trees

I've had the pleasure to meet.

He may have earned his daily crust
as a quantity surveyor,

but at heart he was a true artist.

Let me anticipate
one of your questions, Inspector.

Did Lionel Bell have any enemies?

The answer must be
a most emphatic no.

He didn't seem to be getting on
very well with Steve Bright
at the private view.

Difference of opinion
about photographic techniques,

that's all.
Don't talk rubbish, Headley!

They couldn't stand
the sight of each other.

It was nothing
to do with photography.

"Cherchez la femme," as they say.

Could you be more specific?

Steve Bright was chasing Marion Bell
for years.

Tittle-tattle, my dear.
Idle gossip.

Steve Bright'll chase anything
in a skirt.

Steve was a complete pest.
Marion told me herself.

Mind you, Marion thought
everyone fancied her.

You couldn't say hello without
her reading something into it.

Well, you'll know what I mean,
being an old boyfriend of hers.

Anyway, you're surely not suggesting

that Steve Bright was in any way
connected with poor Lionel's
untimely demise?

Young hooligans from Causton,
more like.

Muggers roaming the woods, high
on drugs - Yes, yes, Mr Carfax,

obviously, we'll take
all possibilities into consideration.

Now, Mr Madrigal,
when did you last see Lionel Bell?

Sunday morning, here in the shop.

The photo society usually convenes
on a Sunday.

And you, Mr Carfax?
The same, I reckon.

Mrs Madrigal?

Yes, he was here on Sunday
with this lot,

eating and drinking me
out of house and home.

I was very fond...of Lionel.

He was a nice man.

And he took jolly nice photographs.

Unlike some people.

(SOBS)

DOOR SLAMS

What about you?

When did you last see Mr Bell?

Erm... The same, on Sunday.

So no-one saw Mr Bell last night?

Last night, no. Why do you ask?
Because he had a visitor.

They shared a bottle of wine.
Well, it wasn't me. I was at home.

I was in the dark room downstairs.

Wine? It doesn't sound like Lionel.

A decent pint at the pub,
a single malt whisky at home,
that was Lionel.

Yeah, that was Lionel, all right.
May he rest in peace.

So, this woman
you were photographed with -

I was not photographed
with her, Jones.

It was digitally manipulated
to look as if I was.

This woman
you WEREN'T photographed with,

you didn't tell me
you went out with her.

Carfax said you were
an old boyfriend of hers.

Yeah, well, it was a long time ago,
Jones,

and...she was lovely.

So you come across this FAKE
photograph of the pair of you.

Three days later,
her husband is murdered.

Bit of a coincidence, isn't it?
That's one way of putting it.

Terrible days we live in. Terrible.

Work will be our salvation,
Sebastian.

Absolutely, Dad.

So get thee to the dark room.

By my calculation, you're at least
two weeks behind with the 9am photos.

OK. First I'd better box up

the 28mm lens
for the bloke in Yorkshire.

Don't trouble yourself. He no longer
requires it. He phoned yesterday.

He said...

He said what, Dad?

He said he'd found one
on the Internet.

If we had a website -
Don't even mention it!

OK. OK.

Never!

Not while I still draw breath.

You're joking.

I'm afraid not.

Well, what was it? Heart attack?

We're treating Mr Bell's death
as suspicious.

What, you mean he was...

Wait a minute, you don't think it
had anything to do with me, do you?

We're talking to people
who knew him, that's all.

And you and Mr Bell, you weren't
the greatest of friends, were you?

Oh, come on.
No, you come on, Mr Bright.

Tell us about the violent argument
in the woods a few weeks ago

and the confrontation, shall we call
it, at the private view.

There was a little harmless rivalry
about the photo society, that's all.

"I'll get you one of these days,
Bell. That is a promise."

I heard you say that to him. That
doesn't sound very harmless to me.

I never said that.
You must have misheard me.

Wasn't the rivalry about something
other than photography, Mr Bright?

What's that supposed to mean?
Was something going on between you
and Bell's wife?

Not that again.
Not what again?

Look, Marion had a thing for me,
what can I say?

So you didn't have
a relationship with Mrs Bell?

No way!
She's 15 years older than me,

and a nutter, to boot.
Are you married?

Not any more. I'm a single man now
and loving every minute of it,

thank you very much for asking.

These photographs, they're digital
photographs, aren't they?

You bet. And you process them
on that computer?

Process them?
I can make them turn somersaults

and sing Jerusalem, if I want.

That's what Headley Madrigal
and his cronies don't get.

It's not about taking a photograph
any more.

Anyone can take a photograph.

It's what you do with it afterwards
that counts.

As with the so-called photograph
of me and Marion Bell.

That wasn't down to me.

Mr Bright, where were you
between, say, 7 and 12 this morning?

In Manchester, at a trade fair.

I just got back.

What do you do for a living?
Fitted kitchens.

Making shed-loads, since you ask.

And if I wasn't, I'd be doing this.

I could turn professional tomorrow,
if I wanted to.

That's what Headley Madrigal
and his mates can't stand.

It's jealousy, pure and simple.

Check the Manchester alibi. Sir.
He's not telling us everything.

And he lied about what he said
to Lionel Bell.

"I'll get you one of these days,"
he said. I heard him say that.

MOBILE PHONE

Jones.

You what? Say that again.

OK, thanks. Yeah.

DISCONNECTS

They found a diary on Bell's body.
There's an entry for last night.

Oh, the mystery visitor.

Apparently so.
Who was it?

You, sir.

KNOCK AT DOOR
It's OK, come in.

Have you finished?
Not yet.

What's this? Biscuits? What about
the nine o'clock photographs?

I'll do them later. Chill, Dad.
I will not "chill"!

The nine o'clock photographs
are a unique social document

of the visual history
of Luxton Deeping.

The Madrigal Archive.

I know, I know.

Sebastian...

now that poor Lionel
is no longer with us,

I need you more than ever.

He was my ally,
my one true friend.

What about Eddie?
Edward is a good sort,

I grant you that,
but is he a true believer?

I have my doubts.

Your mother saw him coming out
of that shop in Midsomer Market.

Quikpix?

Well, perhaps he was buying film.

Film?! Quikpix do not stock film!

They are exclusively digital.

It breaks my heart to think it...

..but Edward may have succumbed.

Jones, look, look.

Looks like his handwriting,
doesn't it?

Yeah.

So what was on the memory card
in Bell's mouth?

These.

Oh.

Well, we need to find out
who she is and who took these.

It wasn't Lionel Bell.
He was a film-only man.

These were taken with
a high-quality digital camera.

Same kind as Steve Bright uses, eh?
Yeah.

So Stephen Bright must be
the first person we go to.

What about the film
in Bell's camera?

Trees.

No sign of a murderer,
unfortunately.

Morning, chaps.

You've got a juicy one
down in Luxton Deeping, eh?

Looks like, yeah.
Wish I was working on it,

instead of writing
this damn report. Ah, Ben.

You're collecting
for the wedding present? Yeah.

Can I just say, the espresso machine
is still up for grabs.

Oh, thanks.

What? The fingerprints on the
wineglasses, they've found a match.

That was quick.

Do you want to know
why it was quick?

Yes, I want to know
why it was quick.

The prints on one of the glasses
are yours.

I assume you weren't
at Lionel Bell's on Sunday evening?

No, course I wasn't.
Or any other evening?

No, no. So how did your prints
end up on one of his wineglasses?

Because it wasn't
one of Lionel Bell's glasses.

The photographic exhibition, Jones,
they served wine.

Very dodgy Chardonnay.

Someone could have picked up
my glass there.

How come Bell's prints
aren't on the other glass?

Bell wasn't a wine drinker,
remember?

Check the bottle.

Maybe it's the same Chardonnay
they served at the exhibition.

Will do.

They've gone to a lot of trouble,
haven't they?

Mm. Fake photograph,
the diary, the fingerprints...

Someone's got it in for you, sir.

You'll have to tell them
about this upstairs, you know.

Yes, I know.

Three... Two...

One... Time, Dad.

Thank you, Sebastian.

Morning, all.

The work goes on, I see.

It's what Lionel would have wanted.
Cup of tea, Edward?

Wouldn't say no.

Here, let me give you a hand.

Mum saw you coming out of Quikpix.
Oh, God.

Did she talk to Headley?
'Fraid so.

Damn.

You haven't started...
you-know-what again,

have you?
Of course not.

Hello, what's this?

They're coming.

I want a word with your old man!

Dad!
What is it?

What do you want?

I've had the police round,
haven't I?

So have we all.

They are investigating the brutal
murder of my dear friend Lionel,

in case you'd forgotten.
Yeah?

Well, they've got hold of some
nonsense about me and Marion Bell.

The tawdry details of your private
life are of no interest to me.

Well, someone's been wagging
their tongue.

I reckon it was one of you lot.

It's ancient history, so just
leave it out in future, all right?

All of you!
I do not appreciate

being harangued and intimidated
on my own premises.

Now kindly leave.
Keep your hair on, Headers.

Sebastian, see these gentlemen out.

I know what a stirrer you are,
Carfax.

So just keep it buttoned.

There are plenty of tales
I could tell about you.

You, too, Seb.

Is that the new D2-X?

Yeah. Yeah, have a go.

12.2 megapixels.

12.2...

My God!

You wouldn't believe the resolution.

Borrow it for the day.

Go on.

Sebastian.

You'd better go.

(DOOR BELL JINGLES)

So you think they'll take you
off the investigation?

Yes, I do. In the circumstances,
I don't think they've got a choice.

But you're not a suspect.

No, no, of course I'm not a suspect.

Any news of Marion Bell?

No, there isn't.

I tried to phone her in Malaga.

There was no answer.

That's odd.
What's odd?

"Dear Mr and Mrs Barnaby,

as valued customers, we would like
to make you this special offer."

The Golden Hind Hotel.

Have you been there?
No.

Me neither. So how come
we're valued customers?

It's just a mail shot, isn't it?

DOORBELL

Oh, that'll be Jones.

I'll go. Finish your coffee.

Two gourmet dinners
for the price of one.

Maybe we should go.

Morning.
Morning.

Morning, Jones.

What's up with you?
You're not going to like it.

What am I not going to like?

Spellman's taking over
the investigation.

Spellman?!

Is that bad?
(SIGHS)

Spellman is a bureaucrat, he's
a desk pilot, a number-cruncher.

He's a little inexperienced,
maybe.

What do you mean by "little"?

Anyway, you're due to see him
at ten, so we'd better go.

Try not to lose your temper.

ECHOING FEMALE VOICE: Tom!

Tom, what is it?

You've just reminded me of something.

FEMALE VOICE: Tom!

How nice to see you.

Who was she?
No idea who she was.

Didn't you think it was a bit odd

being kissed by a complete stranger
in the street?

Well, she knew my name

and I assumed, you know,
she was one of your friends.

You know I always get them mixed up.

You're absolutely sure
it wasn't Marion Bell?

I'm absolutely sure
it was not Marion Bell.

How long ago was this?

Er... Four or five weeks ago.

What were you doing
in Midsomer Market?

Someone phoned me up

and wanted to talk to me
about a suspicious death.

It turned out to be a hoax.
You think it was a set-up?

Of course it was a set-up.

Someone was waiting with a camera

and they digitally replaced
this woman with Marion Bell.

It's obvious, isn't it?

Of course it is.

We believe you.
Don't we, Ben?

Yeah.

And I'm sure Martin Spellman will,
too.

And the salmon is wild, yeah?
Not farmed?

Right, thinking about wine.
Wine, wine...

What have you got?

Are you sure?

Oh.

(LAUGHS) Fantastic.
No, you're a top man.

Thanks, bye. Bye-bye.

Caterers, Tom. A nightmare.

OK. Cards on the table, eh?

If there has been any er...contact

between you and this ex-girlfriend,

now is the time to come clean, eh?

I haven't seen Marion Bell
in 34 years.

Hm.

If we look at this objectively, it
doesn't look too clever, does it?

There's the photograph
of you and the ex-girlfriend.

That's fake, as I explained.

Your fingerprints on the glass.

Almost certainly taken
from the private viewing

at the Luxton Deeping
Photographic Society -

Your name in the victim's diary
for the following evening.

Well...someone obviously phoned
Bell, pretending to be me.

Where were you that evening,
by the way?

Er...home.

With Joyce?

No, she was at a book club meeting.

Alone, eh?

Pity.

And the next morning,
day of the murder?

I left home at 8:15,
went to Badger's Drift

to meet up with Detective Sergeant
Jones. Badger's Drift...

Only a couple of miles
from Luxton Deeping.

Yes, yes. Oh, for crying out loud,
Spellman,

there is an ingenious and resourceful
killer out there somewhere

and you're wasting time
playing games with me. Look.

There was some sort of grudge
between Lionel Bell and Steve Bright

and nobody will come clean about it.

Now, Steve Bright
and his two friends, Knox, Peters,

have the technical know-how
to come up with stuff like this.

I want search warrants for them.
Bring them in for questioning.

Well, what you want
is not relevant, Tom.

You're no longer in charge
of this investigation.

You're to go home and stay there.

Do not discuss this case
with anyone, including Jones.

All relevant paperwork must be
handed in to me immediately.

Every scrap, Tom, understood?

Yes.

Oh, Tom. Tom, Tom, Tom... I finally
tracked down this health club
where Marion Bell works. It's in...

Yeah, Malaga.

Apparently, she handed in her notice
six weeks ago.

The boss is under the impression
she's coming back to England.

Know anything about that, Tom?

No, I do not.

And, in view of the circumstances,

I'd prefer it
if we kept this formal, Inspector.

Sure, if that's what you want.

Sir.

Well?

Spellman is enjoying
every minute of this.

Sententious git!

And I...I am under house arrest.

What?
Yeah, well, as good as.

Got anything?
Er...no, not yet.

Bright, Knox, Peters,

no criminal records, no connection
with you, as far as I can find.

Keep looking for her.

Should you be taking those?

No.

OK.

I bet Steve Bright knows who she is.

Now, Jones, make sure
that Spellman keeps on at him, OK?

I'll do my best.
You do that.

The colour's a bit weak here,

but I can crank up the reds...

like this.

And...

it's a bit blown-out in the
highlights. I've lost the detail.

But the beauty is

the sensor will have picked it up.

So all I have to do is...

Urrh! Aagh!

(GURGLES)

No, no, Imogen...

Imogen, have you got the faintest
idea how much tiger prawns cost?

No, no, no. No. No.
Two per portion, maximum.

Looks like another strangulation.

Make a note of that. Thank you.

They're getting a free bar.
What more do they want?

I never realised
photography was so dangerous.

No. No, no, no. No, no.
What's his problem?

He's getting married.

I don't care if they are
your mother's oldest friends,

they're not sitting on our table.
That's final.

Tom's still under the weather?
You could say that, yeah.

He's missing a goody here.

Ben, haven't you moved him yet?

No wonder these investigations
cost a fortune,

people standing around
doing nothing!

I thought you'd like a look first.

Hm. I'll read your report. I'm sure
it'll contain all I need to know.

I'd like a look inside his mouth,
before the body's moved. What for?

There was a memory card
in Lionel Bell's mouth, so maybe -

All right, all right. Don't
spell it out, just get on with it.

(GRUNTS) Well, that's hardly
a memory card, Ben.

Something much more traditional.

Black-and-white medium-format film.

Not Bright's thing at all.

I'll get this processed,
shall I, sir?

Yes, of course. And there may be
something on this organiser.

Get it bagged up. I'm not going to
hold your hand 24/7, like Barnaby.

MOBILE PHONE

Spellman.

I hope Tom gets well soon.

Darling, darling,
I did not shout at you.

So do I.
That is harsh...

At this rate, we'll be here
till Christmas.

I will. Absolutely.
Absolutely, I will.

Hang on just ten seconds, yeah?

Peterson! Get in there
and tell them to get a shift on.

I haven't had breakfast yet.

John? About 15 minutes.

MOBILE PHONE

Hello, Jones?

Bright's dead, sir.
Yes, I know.

You do?
How did he die?

It looks like strangulation.
A roll of film was in his mouth.

Be interesting to see what's on it.

There's a sort of studio at the back
of Bright's house. I'm in it now.

I think it's where the photos
of the girl were taken.

You know that sofa thing
she was lying on?

Yes.

There's one like it here.
And...I found a stiletto boot.

Ben!

Better hang up.
I think you're needed.

Where are you?

Er...in my back garden.

Oh. Lucky for some.

DISCONNECTS

Jones! Where are you?

I think this is the place where the
photos of the girl were taken, sir.

Uh-huh...

What girl?
The blonde.

On the memory card
that was in Lionel Bell's mouth.

Oh.

What's this got to do with my dad?

I don't know. Maybe nothing.

Dad was only interested
in black-and-white,
and he never took people.

Do you know this girl? Do you know
who she is? No, I don't. OK.

Philly...

Can we talk about the time
your parents split up?

OK.

Now, had it anything, anything
at all, to do with Steve Bright?

Steve Bright? No way.

It has been suggested
that Steve Bright was...erm...

pursuing your mother.

Mum thought every man she ever met
was in love with her.

OK, she's an attractive woman.

When she was young,
she must have been amazing.

Ooh, she was.

But most of the time, it's fantasy.

It drove Dad mad.

She'd leave us, then come back,
then leave again.

She couldn't live with him,
she couldn't live without him.

Seb says it's the modern disease.

What is?

Chronic dissatisfaction.

Huh! Well, he's right.

Now, Philly,

when I asked you the other day

if you had seen your mother
since she went to Spain,

you didn't give me
a straight answer, did you?

Cos you have seen her, haven't you?

Yes.

When?

About five weeks ago
she came to England.

She wanted me to ask Dad
if he would take her back.

And?

I told her he never wanted
to see her again.

Did he really say that?

Of course not.

I didn't even tell him
she was here,

because he would've said yes, and
it would've started all over again.

But now all I can think is,
if I HAD told him,

maybe he'd still be alive today!

Er...excuse me, sir.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby from Causton CID.

Is this your usual delivery time?
Round about now, yeah.

Mm-hm. So you knew the man
who lived here: Mr Bell?

Poor old Lionel? Yeah,
I used to see him sometimes,

going out with his camera gear.
How about last Monday?

I did see him, as it happens.
Which way did he go from here?

That way, as usual.

Thank you. Thanks very much.

Three... Two... One. Time, Dad.
SHUTTER CLICKS

Good morning, Inspector.
Good morning!

You are now immortalised
in the Madrigal Archive.

Ah! I'm honoured.

Never seen her before in my life!

Me neither.

No, no idea.
Horrible photo, though.

Digital, of course. Look at this,
Headley. Enough to make you weep.

Eugh! Appalling! Eugh! This is what
computers do, Inspector.

They drain the very soul
from the image.

But the girl, Mr Madrigal.
Do you recognise her?

The girl? Oh, certainly not!

Ask Steve Bright. That's the sort
of rubbish he's interested in.
What do you mean by that?

Photographs of scantily clad
young women, that's what I mean.

Tittle-tattle, my dear.

You ask Steve Bright.

Well, I would do that, Mrs Madrigal,

but Mr Bright was found dead
in his home earlier this morning.

No! So it can't have been him
that did for poor old Lionel, then.

Now, Lionel left his home at 9am
last Monday morning.

I was wondering if he was on your
nine o'clock photograph for that day.

Let me see. Monday...

Oh! I was at the doctor's.

Sebastian took the nine o'clock
photograph on Monday.

I don't remember seeing Lionel,
but he might show up when I develop
the film. He pops up now and then.

I'd be grateful if I could look at
that, please. Sure.

I was going to do another batch
tomorrow.

Oh, Martin.
What?

About the espresso machine.
Yeah? What kind were you after?

Italian one. Specified on the list.
Ah! One of those...erm...

big jobs, you mean?

No. No, a domestic one!

We're not opening a coffee shop, for
crying out loud! Ah! Just checking.

MOBILE PHONE

Sorry about this.

Spellman. Shoot.

I've already told Tom,
I don't know who she is.

Tom?
Inspector Barnaby.

Look, I'll have to call you back.

Well?
No luck. Nothing.

Bye. Thanks.
Well, now what do we do?

SHOP BELL

Now then, gentlemen,
just a few questions...

Ah! You do wedding photos, right?

Wedding photos?
Yeah.

Someone's shooting a DVD of ours.
Stills would be great, too.
I'll take wedding photos for you.

No need to print 'em. Stick 'em on
a CD - We do not do wedding photos,

and, if we did, we would not
"stick 'em on a CD".

Oh. Carry on, Ben.

Can any of you identify this woman?

No, none of us know who she is.
We've already told Inspector Barnaby.

Barnaby? When?
Half an hour ago.

Chief Inspector Barnaby is no longer
in charge of this investigation.
I am!

If Barnaby shows up here again,
notify me immediately.
Do you understand?

Ben, a word.

Thank you.

Did you know about this?
No, I didn't.

Bloody nerve of the man, poking
his nose into my investigation!

I think it's a mistake,
sidelining him like this.

Don't you get it? Barnaby's past
his sell-by date. His days are over.

If you want to get ahead, you get
with the programme. All right, Ben?

SHOP BELL

Tom! How nice to see you!

CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS REPEATEDLY

Sir?

Are you all right?
Yeah.

This is where the picture was taken.
Look.

The health-food shop over there...
There it is, in the photo.

I believe you, sir.
How about the Digital Detective?
Does he believe me?

Spellman's furious.
Why, has he lost his laptop (?)

Because you've been
"poking your nose in", unquote.

(CHUCKLES SOFTLY)

The prints from the film
that was in Bright's mouth.

Her again!

They tell me these were taken
with a camera similar to Bell's.

And I thought he preferred trees.

I think the film and the memory card
were planted for our benefit.

The murderer wants us to think
Bright and Bell photographed her.

Hm. Something happened
between the Bells and Steve Bright.

According to some,
Marion was after Bright.

According to others,
Bright was after Marion.

Whichever, Marion ends
up running away to Spain

and Bright's wife divorces him.
End of story.

Until five weeks ago, when
Marion Bell comes back to England.

What? Something I discovered
while I was "poking my nose in".

She wanted Lionel to take her back.

Philomena refused, on his behalf.

You think Marion killed him?

She hasn't got a grudge
against you, has she?

Jones, I behaved impeccably
during our all-too-brief encounter.

Whoever the murderer is, they've
certainly got it in for YOU.

Yeah, I know that.
You don't, actually.

Your name was in Bright's organiser.

Apparently, you had a meeting
with him the evening he was killed.

That's her! That's the woman!

(WOMEN CHATTER)

Ooh!
Sorry. Excuse me.

Thank you.

(PANTS)
Ooh, hello, you're in a hurry!

What are YOU doing here?
Market day. I come every week.

I lost her! Who?
Ah, it doesn't matter.

Who was it? The blonde girl?

No. Doesn't matter.
Take him home, Mrs Barnaby.

Do me a favour, sir.
Stay away from Luxton Deeping

and I'll try and keep Spellman
off your back.

Come on, I've arranged
a special treat for you.

What?
See you. Yes.

Dinner at the Golden Hind Hotel.

We got another voucher in the post.

Free champagne
with the gourmet dinner.

The last thing I want
is a gourmet dinner.

When I rang to make the booking,
the man said,

"Would you like your usual table,
Mrs Barnaby?"

I really like this one.

It's sort of... It's optimistic.
You know what I mean?

And you're eating more.
So that's good, Seb.

I'm really sorry about your dad,
Phil.

Thanks.

Seb, this person you told me about...
that you're going out with.

She doesn't really exist, does she?

You made her up, to put me off.

So...so I think it's better if we
don't see each other from now on.

OK.

Good luck with the photographs, Seb.
They're great, they really are.

(BOTH LAUGH)

Good evening.
Good evening.

Enjoy your meal.

Everything all right?
Yes, thank you.

Bonsoir. Good evening. I booked
a table for eight o'clock.

The name's Barnaby,
and we have these vouchers.

Barnaby?
Yes, Barnaby.

This way, please.

Voila, madame.
Thank you.

Monsieur.
Thank you.

So this is our "usual table"?
Very nice.

It's a marketing ploy, Joyce.

Like calling mashed spuds
"pommes purees".

I intend to enjoy myself
this evening, Tom, regardless.

Ooh, "a seafood symphony".
(CHUCKLES) Musical fish (!)

Excuse me, sir. I'm afraid
we cannot accept these vouchers.

Why not?
They are not transferable.

Well, they haven't been transferred,
have they?

You sent them to us,
and here we are using them.

There must be some mistake.
They are to Mr and Mrs Barnaby.

But we ARE Mr and Mrs Barnaby!

I'm sure you are, madame, but you
are not OUR Mr and Mrs Barnaby.

Monsieur, would you tell the manager

that Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby from Causton CID

would like to talk to him
in private now, please?

Certainly, sir.

All right, you win. Let's just go.
It's not worth making a fuss.

I should've realised
this would happen. What?

Fake photographs, fake evidence, and
now this. A fake Mr and Mrs Barnaby!

You mean it's something to do
with the case?

Of course it's got something to do
with the case.

Mr and Mrs Barnaby
were regular guests,

until five or six months ago.

They favoured the William Morris
suite, overlooking the garden.
How did they pay?

Always cash.
Rather unusual these days.

I'm really very sorry about this.

Your address must be
on our database somewhere

and got mixed up with theirs.
(MOBILE PHONE) Sorry.

Barnaby.

It's Sebastian Madrigal here
from Madrigal Photographics.

I'm just about to print up the nine
o'clock photos you were asking about

and...there's something
I wanted to tell you.

And what's that, Sebastian?

It's about the blonde girl
in the photographs.

I couldn't talk
in front of the others.

Now would be a good time.
My parents aren't here.

Right. I'll be there in 30 minutes.

I think the least we can do is offer
you dinner with our compliments.

How kind! Did you hear that, Tom?
Yes, but I'm sorry, we have to go.

We'll take up your offer
some other time. Thank you.

Come on!

So you recognised the blonde
in the photograph, did you?

I think so, yeah.
Good.

Steve Bright and his mates,

Adam Knox, Lee Peters, that lot,
were into this glamour crap.

They used to go
to a studio in Causton

where you could photograph models.
So tacky!

Anyway, Steve had a thing
with one of the models,

and his wife found out about it.

After the divorce, Steve set up
a studio in his house

and tried to get people to go.

Did you go? This is the day
that Lionel was killed.

Did you go to those sessions
at Bright's house?

Once. So gross!

All these old men letching after
some girl with her top off.

What about Lionel Bell?
Did he go too?

Yes. He was supposed
to report back to Dad,

get them chucked out
of the Photo Soc,

but there was this girl there...
What, the blonde?

Yeah. Lionel was, like,
instantly obsessed with her.

But the thing is...
so was Steve Bright.

This is from the day after.

So what happened?
Steve warned Lionel off,

but he took no notice,

so Steve told Marion
that Lionel was having an affair.

And was he?
You're kidding! No way!

She told Lionel where to get off,
and Steve Bright!

Sebastian, do you know
what the name of the blonde girl is?

Chantelle, I think.
And where is she now?

No idea. She gave it up ages ago.

Not surprising, with Steve
and Lionel drooling all over her.

Sebastian, I do appreciate
you telling me all this.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,
but my mum and dad, they're funny
about stuff like this.

CLATTERING
Oh.

Could you whack this pipe
with that, please?

Here?
Yeah, just there, yeah.

SPITTING, THEN WATER FLOWS

This is the photo that was taken
the day Lionel Bell was murdered,

yes?
Yeah.

Are you sure?

Yeah. I date the negs. It's vital.

Because Lionel Bell left his house
at nine o'clock,

just as the postman
was making his deliveries.

Yet neither of them
are in this photograph, are they?

Dad was at the doctor's,
so I did that one on my own.

I was a bit late, like, ten past.

You won't tell him, will you?
He'd kill me! No, I won't tell him.

This blonde, Chantelle... Have you
got any idea how I could find her?

Eddie Carfax might know.
Eddie Carfax? Why would he know?

He's a sly one, is Eddie.
He's got his foot in both camps.

It was Eddie who started going
to the glamour sessions in Causton.

It was Eddie who helped Steve
hire the models.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Oh, it's you. What do you want?

I want to ask you
a couple of questions, Mr Carfax.

What about?
About her.

You lied to me, sir.

We were told not to talk to you,
Barnaby.

Who is it, Eddie? It's all right,
sweetheart. It's nothing.

Perhaps Mrs Carfax can tell me
who she is? (All right, all right.)

Mr Carfax, when Ste...

When Steve Bright set up the studio
in his house,

you assisted him, didn't you,
in the procurement of models?

No, I just put him in touch
with Nigel, that's all.

Nigel?
Nigel Woodley.

He runs the Causton Camera Club.
Does he?

And how do I get in touch
with Nigel?

He's got this shop, Quikpix,
in Midsomer Market.

Look, this girl, Chantelle,
Nigel hired her, right?

I barely spoke to her!

And this business
between her and Lionel and Steve,

I didn't know anything about it
until afterwards, I swear!

I was just doing Steve a favour.

I'm not even interested
in...this kind of stuff.

This is what I do.
Kittens, for Christ's sake!

Will my wife have to know
about this? And Headley?

Because it's not fair, is it?

I was just being helpful, you see.

I didn't know people were going to
get murdered, did I?

Hi, Ben. Hi.
He's in the kitchen. Thanks.

Jones!

Her name is Chantelle.

Eddie Carfax lied to us about her.
Sir -

And I think I know how to find her.
That shop, Quikpix,
in Midsomer Market.

The owner is one Nigel Woodley -
Sir, there's a problem.

Someone rang Spellman
and told him you were
in Luxton Deeping last night.

That'd be Eddie Carfax, wouldn't it?
Whoever it was,

they claim you were threatening
and abusive.

Threatening AND abusive? Gosh (!)

I'm to take you in
to see Spellman now, sir.

It's serious.
What will he do, arrest me?

The mood he's in,
anything's possible.

Well, if he does, at least I won't
have to go to his wedding, will I?

That's what I love about him:
always looking on the bright side!

All right, all right, all right.
I'll go and see Spellman.

After I've had a word
with this Nigel Woodley.

Please don't, sir!
It'll make things worse.

Ben may be right.
Half an hour, that's all I need.

Where's my warrant card?

Joyce, have you seen
my warrant card? No, I haven't.

It's always in my jacket!

Ah, well, that settles it.
You can't question people
without your warrant card.

Well, you can do it for me.
Hey, now, hang on -

Phone Spellman.
Put him off for an hour.

I'm sure you'll think of something.
Don't be difficult, Tom.

Look, whatever happens,

Spellman will make sure
I come out of this looking bad

and, when he's delivered
his eagerly awaited report
on restructuring,

I'll be in charge
of the traffic cones.

And then you two will realise
just how difficult I can really be.

He's convinced me.

All right. I'll go and talk
to this bloke Woodley.

And then I'm coming straight back
here to pick you up. Course you are.

Now, Jones, you find out...
where she is.

Keep him here.
Use force, if necessary.

(CHUCKLES) It'll be a pleasure.

Traffic cones, eh?
Yes. Well, I can dream.

Are these from the famous
Madrigal Archive?

Yes, indeed they are. The same spot,
nine o'clock every morning

for the past 70 years.

And you couldn't find a more boring
view of the village if you tried! Hm?

So these two
weren't taken on the same day?

No, they weren't. That was taken
on the day Lionel Bell was murdered.
That was taken the next day. Why?

This car. You can only park there
for half an hour during the day.

I know.
I got a ticket there recently.

I suppose they came back the next
day and parked in the same place.

I'll make some more coffee.
Exactly the same place?!

I don't think so.
DIALS NUMBER

Mike? It's Tom Barnaby.
I've got a favour to ask of you.

It's a licence number.

I'm looking for Nigel Woodley.

If you're selling something, pal,
make an appointment.

Detective Sergeant Jones,
Causton CID.

Is this about that drink-driving
nonsense? No, it's about her.

Do you recognise her?
Never seen her before in my life.

Or we COULD talk about
that drink-driving nonsense.

Wait a minute! Is that Chantelle?

Yes, it is.
I didn't recognise her with the wig.

That's a wig?
Course it is.

She's as blonde as I am (!)
Tell me about her.

There isn't much to tell.

She did some modelling work
for the Causton Camera Club,
which I happen to run,

then this pal of mine,
Eddie Carfax, poached her.

Haven't heard anything since.

Have you got any photos of her
without the wig?

I can take a look.

There you go.

Causton Camera Club
Christmas Party, 2004.

There's Chantelle.

My God!

You know her?
Yeah.

And I know him, too.
Hm.

That's Sebastian Madrigal.

Right weirdo! Son of that Headley
bloke from Luxton Deeping.

Sebastian came to the Causton
Camera Club? Only a couple of times.

I had to ban him, didn't I?
Why?

He freaked out the girls,
especially Chantelle.

Reckoned he was in love with her.
Started stalking her, the weirdo!

Print one of those for me,
will you? Sure.

There was something about
that Seb bloke. Something...creepy.

Hello?

Anybody there? Hello?

Have you brought the computer?
Yes.

Yes, of course.
What's this all about?

Chief Inspector Barnaby
and Marion Bell.

Oh! I'm all ears.

"The number you are calling
knows you are waiting."

Good, good. Well, thank you. Thank
you very much for your help. Bye!

Mrs Painter was in Luxton Deeping
on Tuesday morning.

She remembers parking close
to Madrigal Photographic,

but she definitely was NOT there
on the Monday morning.

Hm!

Now, Sebastian's father went
to the doctor's on Monday morning.

Tuesday he spent in bed. So Sebastian
was on his own both those days.

He must have taken two photographs
on the Tuesday morning...

..because he missed Monday.

So where was he on Monday?

DOORBELL
Oh, that'll be Ben.

In the woods, perhaps,
killing Lionel Bell.

And the question is: why?

It's for the chemicals,
in case you get splashed.

Oh, good idea.
This suit cost a fortune.

So...what's all this
about Barnaby and Marion Bell?

I've got this CD
I'd like you to look at,

which is why we need your computer.
Dad won't have one in the house.

If you haven't got one of these,
you're out of the game.

You tell him...
to get with the programme.

SWITCHES OFF PHONE
Oh, I do.

All the time.

Have a look at these!

Take the blonde wig off,
and who have we got?

Oh, yes. Well, well, well!

Joyce, look at this!

It's Martin Spellman's fiancee!
It's Imogen.

Yeah. And there's Sebastian
Madrigal, lurking at the back.

Apparently, he was stalking Imogen
and had to be warned off.

All I'm getting is Spellman's
voicemail. Try the nick.

So maybe Sebastian killed
Lionel and Steven because they were
both after Imogen, as well.

And left the photos with the bodies
to send the message "hands off her!"

He's what?

Are you sure?

OK, thanks.

He's gone to Madrigal Photographic.
To arrest Sebastian?

No, to meet you.

Someone's got their wires crossed!

Where's my warrant card?
It's for the chemicals.

Could you whack this pipe
with that, please?

No. No-one's got
their wires crossed.

If Sebastian killed Lionel Bell and
Steve Bright because of Imogen...

..imagine what he'll do
to the man who's going to marry her!

And he'll do it with an old mallet
with my fingerprints on it.

And my warrant card will be found
somewhere very near the body.

RUBBER GLOVES SNAP

It's the chemicals. I'm allergic.

Oh. Right, come on, then.
Where's this CD?

Mm.

It's got some photographs on it.
Oh, yes? What of?

Barnaby and Marion Bell.

Oh! I knew it!

Oh. I've seen this.

It's the one that's been modified.
No, keep...keep going.

And who's that?
She works in the health-food shop
where I buy my veggie burgers.

No, I don't get it.
Well, I paid her.

She thought she was doing
a kissogram on Barnaby.

Then I followed Philly
when she went to meet her mum,

took some photographs of them,
and then I pasted them together

on Nigel's computer.
YOU did?

Why?
Keep going!

Oh. She's cute.

Wait a minute.

That's Imogen!
Yeah.

They'll find all this
on your computer...

..and they'll think
that's why Barnaby killed you.

(GROANS)

Look at her! See?
That's what you did to her.

You and the others.
That's what you turned her into.

Imogen...
That's why she doesn't want you.

Because you're disgusting.

Disgusting!
Let it go!

No!
Let it go!

No!

You are under arrest for the murders
of Lionel Bell and Steven Bright.

You do not have to say anything,
but it may harm your defence if you
do not mention, when questioned,

something which you later rely on
in court. Do you understand? Move!

Imogen...

I'd do anything for her.

Anything. Whatever she wanted.

Because I love her.

That's what you don't understand.
I was only doing what she wanted.

What, Imogen wanted you to kill
Lionel Bell and Steve Bright?

Of course she did.
She told you that?

I know what she's thinking.

That's love. Something you people
wouldn't understand.

Steve...and Lionel!

They were disgusting men.

They used her.

So did you.
You little creep! If -

And you.
Me?!

How did I use Imogen?
You took her to that hotel.

A friend of mine works there.
He told me all about your visits
there with Imogen.

I took Imogen to a hotel?

Against her will, obviously -

Interview terminated at 11:33
by Detective Inspector Spellman.

Gentlemen, can I...have a word?

See, the thing is, when...

when I first met Imogen, I...

I was still married,
technically speaking.

Of course, we had to be discreet.

We went for dinner
at the Golden Hind -

FAX MACHINE BEEPS

..at the Golden Hind one evening
and decided to stay the night.

When they asked for my name, I...

Well, I said "Barnaby".
I mean, it was a joke.

I was a bit... I'd had a drink.

Then, of course,
the next time we went...

Ooh... Do you know what?

I... I'm feeling a bit dizzy.

I'll just...

Apparently, the marriage
has been put on hold.

Technically speaking?
Exactly.

Ooh! Would you like
an espresso machine?

I've had lots of offers already.
I bet! It's a lovely house.

So I'm off to London.

There's no reason for me to stay on
in Luxton Deeping.

In fact, I can't wait to leave.

You can come and stay with us
if you want a break.

Thanks. I'd love that.
CAR HORN HONKS

Oh, God. This must be her.

Oh! Darling, darling, darling!
Are you all right?

Mwah! Mwah!
Yes, Mum, I'm fine.

Really, really all right?
Yes, fine.

Oh, my God! Tom Barnaby!

Mwah! Mwah!

I mustn't look too pleased to see
you, or Preston will be jealous.

I thought his name was Igor.
Oh, no, darling. Igor's history.

I met Preston in California,
where I've just been.

And I'm going back there soon,
darling, to live.

That's great, Mum. Good for you.

You must be Joyce!

Mwah! Mwah!
How lovely to meet you.

Oh, Tom, she's absolutely gorgeous.
Lucky old you.

Yes, lucky old me!

I know! Let's take a photograph!

Would you mind, Joyce?
Not at all.

The family that might have been!

You don't mind me saying that,
do you, Joyce? Not at all.

Tom, do look a bit more cheerful.

Oh, he always was a grumpy old
so-and-so. Weren't you, Tom?

That's why it didn't really work out
between us. (CHUCKLES) Hold it!

ITFC Subtitles K SOLOMON & R PODAS