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Beatrix?

Beatrix.

Oh, sorry, darling, I didn't hear you there.

I'm going up. You coming?

I'll be right with you.

Bloody mice.

Subtitles by SilverStark www.OpenSubtitles.org

NARRATOR: A curious mouse crept

from his room in the house

and knew then that his father had died.

He'd seen this doctor before take his sister to the morgue,

and he realized the grown-ups had lied,

for this world wasn't magic.

It was often quite tragic.

Not every mouse lived to grow old.

So while misery reigned,

he'd retreat to his brain,

for the tales he wanted to be told.

Look after Mama.

Sally!

Sally, come now!

Come!

Come on, Sally.

Good girl.

Far too cold outside or ladies of our age.

Don't you think?

Children, it's time to say goodbye to Papa.

Enough of that!

Be quiet at once!

Do you hear me? Be quiet!

Stay still, darn it,

so that I can kill you!

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

Yes, yes, oh, no!

Fine, have it your way.

But I'm not giving up on Christmas dinner that easily, Sago.

You'll see.

Well, don't look at me like that, Tuppenny.

That duck's had it coming for weeks!

Not listening!

Oh, do shush, will you?

Happy Christmas, Miss Potter.

It's Mrs. Heelis to you.

And I'll thank you not to trespass on my property.

Well, just trying to do something nice

for the kiddies at Christmas.

I think I've done my bit for that lot.

Now get off my land or I'll set my dog on you.

CAROLERS: Aww!

For goodness sake, Fleet.

Happy Christmas, Miss Potter.

It's Mrs. Heelis.

Have you been in?

I see.

No one will make you go in there, Roald.

It's hard so soon after losing your sister.

Now is our chance for goodbyes,

if goodbyes are something you want.

Will you come with me?

Of course.

When we get inside, Papa's in bed,

but, Roald, it's not really Papa anymore, understand?

It's just a body,

so if you don't want to see,

just close your eyes, all scrunched tight, like this.

Okay?

Okay.

Mrs. Dahl, I was wondering if I might have a word

about our route to the church.

Certainly.

Papa?

You, boy, keep your filthy hands off the deceased!

WILLIAM: Beatrix!

Coming!

I mean, to bury your little girl is one thing,

but then to have your husband dead and all,

before a month have even passed,

well, too much for any woman.

It's a crock and tragedy is what it is.

Hmm.

Mentally troubled too, I heard.

Never! Who told you that?

You did, I think.

Did I?

Well, it must be true then.

Oh yeah, she's packin' the boy off to school

and headin' back to her mother in Norway.

Makes sense.

She can't be managin' 'em all on her own.

Probably got another stab at marriage,

if she manages to pack all them brats somewhere.

Wouldn't mind a shot myself.

You never had a problem with seconds, have you, Butler?

What can I say?

I'm a man of huge appetites.

May I?

No, you may not.

She's my mother, and you can't have her.

DOCTOR: And clearer now

- or now? - Now.

I don't appreciate being ambushed, William.

It's not an ambush.

Mr. Entwistle has kindly found time for a house call.

You seem to have accidentally missed

your previous appointments.

- Now or now? - Now.

And stopped opening correspondence and writing letters.

- Now or now? - Now.

Well, that's because, if you haven't noticed,

I am writing- I know.

You're very busy not writing a book.

Exactly.

And those books don't not write themselves, you know.

DOCTOR: And clearer now.

Or now?

I'm not sure.

Now, or possibly now.

I, I don't know anymore.

Pardon me.

And, um,

how's your vision been over the last year?

I, I don't know.

Everything's getting a bit foggy on the fells, these days.

Regardless of the weather.

What'd you think?

Well, very simply,

evidence of age-related macular degeneration.

He means old lady eyes, doesn't he?

I mean, could it be glaucoma or cataracts?

Hard to say without further examination.

Ideally, I'd need her to come in for further tests.

Well, seeing as you're very, very, very busy,

for the time being-

- Oh God!

You're going to make me wear spectacles, aren't you?

It might help.

I have some temporary ones, if you'd like to try.

I'll consider it, later.

So, uh, gentlemen, unless there's something else,

other than my age-related degeneration,

I'm afraid I really am rather busy.

Thank you.

We really do appreciate you coming out all this way.

Don't we, Beatrix?

Beatrix?

Yes, most kind.

Sorry, before I go, I couldn't possibly ask

for an autograph, could I?

Oh, do you have children?

Oh, no, heavens no.

Can't stand the blighters.

Just wanted one for the office,

pop it on the wall, celebrity clients type of thing.

We've got a cracking one from Virginia Woolf.

Get him a rabbit card, William.

Oh, that's topping!

Look at that, his little bunny whiskery face.

Yeah, that's good. That's very good indeed.

You should write one about Peter Rabbit getting spectacles.

Should I?

Yes, um, well, let me know how you get on

with that, yeah.

Happy Christmas.

I suppose her bark is worse than her bite, is it?

No, no, it's not.

Thanks all the same.

Mind if I join you?

What are you reading?

Oh, of course.

Beatrix Potter again.

You know, I don't think I see your face anymore, boy,

just this.

Perhaps, one day, you will lower the book,

and there you will be, and, well,

with a gigantic beard,

and I will have missed the whole show.

I will never get a beard, not ever.

What did they say, Roald?

He said that you were sending me away to school

and that you'd go back to Norway without us,

and he was going to take you as his wife.

You know what we call men like this in Norway?

You understand?

It means, um,

a great, big, bottom-hole man.

- Mama. - A great,

big, saggy bottom-hole.

Come on, say it with me.

Very good, yes, loud as you can.

I mean this. It's educational.

The man is a massive twit.

I'm not going back to Norway.

What about me?

You're not sending me away, are you?

Mama?

Well, that's another thing.

You're papa wanted.

He always said that an English education is the finest

in the world.

How else could such a tiny prump

of a country become such a force.

Prump?

Fart.

And I've heard about a very lovely school,

not so far from here, Roald,

just over the water, actually.

So you are sending me away.

No, no, not yet.

We've got the whole of the Christmas holidays to go first.

No!

Roald!

No, I don't want to go.

Sit down, please.

Let me tell you about it, first.

It sounds like an adventure.

No, I won't go!

And you can't make me and neither can Papa,

because Papa's dead!

A nasty flash of temper the boy's got there.

But you don't go worrying your pretty little head about it.

They'll soon beat that out of him in boarding school.

Give you a bit of time

for your needs, you know, love.

Beautiful, that creature.

Reckon I'm in now.

I thought it might help you get this book done.

- That's all. - That has nothing

to do with my eyes, William.

And I can't get this book done,

because I don't want to get this blasted book done.

Why ever not?

Because Warne's don't care what they publish anymore.

I'm just a blank check to them now.

All they want is another damned bunny book,

irrespective of the content,

and then it's Christmas bonuses all around.

So just give them one.

I, I can't.

Hey.

Say?

I, I don't want to wear spectacles, Willie.

They'll make me look like an old lady.

You are an old lady, Beatrix.

A perfectly serviceable one, too.

And that's exactly why I married you, Mr. Heelis,

your romantic way with words.

Nonsense.

You married me for my ability

to access land registry documents.

Troutbeck Farm, it's coming up soon,

but we can't hang about if you're interested.

There's a hotel here in Manchester

who's already sniffing about.

That's most of Kirkstone Pass.

Exactly.

Well, they mustn't get it.

It would change the whole area.

They're planning to carve it up,

sell it off in sections.

How many acres?

Can you read the rest of it to me, William?

No.

Beg your pardon?

I won't.

Read it yourself,

unless, of course, you need spectacles.

Hello.

Are you still in there, somewhere?

Well, what do you think?

Rude!

WILLIAM: Bloody animal!

Sally!

Oh, Sally.

What have you done this time?

Just stay there, just stay there, just sit.

Has that damn pig of yours been in the house again?

No, not that I know of, no.

Why?

I, uh, beg your pardon.

Beatrix.

Sorry, darling, I think it might be nerves.

Did you need anything?

No, sit down, get that blasted book written,

so we can finally enjoy Christmas.

Yes, I'm writing. I'm writing!

Now just settle down and stay there.

NARRATOR: To be sent from your home

when you're left on your own,

with a sister and father now dead,

left no choice for our mouse,

'cause a home's just a house,

if the future there fills you with dread.

Roald!

How do you know my name?

Your sister Astri told me, pea-brain.

Runnin' away, are you?

Maybe.

I've got space in my bag if you want to come with me.

No, thanks.

I think I'd best stay on Astri's bed,

just in case she comes back.

She isn't coming back.

I know.

Roald, before you go, would you do me a favor?

Astri wrote this.

I'm worried it won't get posted.

"Dear Father Christmas, I am seven.

This year, I have been good.

Please can you get a new dress for my doll Lavender.

Her old one is getting a bit frayed."

Hmm, it is a bit.

"And please, could you get Roald

a new Beatrix Potter book.

He's read me all his old ones so many times,

and I'd really like to hear something new.

- Mm-hmm. - "Do have a safe journey.

Love, Astri."

Would you post it for me?

Of course.

See you then.

See you.

And, Roald, do have a safe journey.

Oh, Sago, you have made a foolish error there, my friend.

I'll get you this time.

Finished already?

Nearly. I've just got to pop out and kill Sago.

Oh, honestly, Beatrix,

I do wish you'd stop giving then names.

It really does spoil a meal.

You're right. Sorry.

Come on, dog.

I don't mind the pets, just not the dinner.

Please!

Absolutely.

Come on.

When exactly are Warne's expecting this book

to be delivered by?

Tomorrow.

But I'll say it was delayed in the post.

You know what it's like this time of year.

It'll be fine.

And besides, it's only the final manuscript.

They've seen most of it already.

Beatrix.

Trust me, it'll be fine.

NARRATOR: Now when Mouse left his home and set off alone,

he was aware he was lacking a plan.

But he knew in his heart

that a good place to start was his map

to a happier land.

For whenever in doubt,

if you're down but not out,

there's comfort to be found between pages.

But if it's true solace you seek,

fire your mind, not your feet.

And that healing, I'm afraid,

well, that can take ages.

Roald!

Roald!

Roald!

Ha, I've got you now, Sago.

MAN: Afternoon, Mrs. Heelis!

Tom.

What can I do to help you?

Ah, I just wanted to let you know

I'm taking your first lot of Herdwicks up on the fell now

if you wanted to follow on.

Oh can't wee keep them on Hill Top, over winter?

Keep 'em here?

No, no, no, no, no.

You may get your London sheep able to live in those sort

of cramped and squalid conditions, Mrs. Heelis,

not your Herdwicks, thank you very much.

Aren't actually that many sheep in London, Tom.

Well, I wouldn't know.

I've not been there myself.

All I know is your Herdwicks wouldn't stand for it.

They need more land than that.

Like Troutbeck, that sort of land?

Exactly.

Complicated breed, your Herdwick.

- Hmm. - They need space

of their own,

space to be left alone,

to think.

Right.

Do you think perhaps I was a Herdwick

in a previous life, Tom?

No.

I see.

So you comin' or what?

'Cause Herdwicks don't wait for no one,

no matter who you are

or what fancy part of London town you're born and raised in.

Do you know what?

You've just given me a very good reason to get back to work,

see if I can't buy our ladies a bit more room.

But call for me later, and I'll join you then.

Suit yourself.

I'm not bothered, either way.

Come on now, you!

Haven't got all bloody day.

Well, I have, as you know,

but I'm not spending it with the likes of you.

MAN: Platform two, we're expecting one soon.

MAN: Come on, move it out of the way!

Kentish cobnut?

Quite right, chicken.

You've taken a shufty at an old fungus like me,

offering you up some dodgy Manjari, and thought,

not likely, pal!

You're no dido, are ya?

I try not to be.

Well, don't you worry your bones about it.

I'm a bonafide gent, make no mistakings.

Where's a young fidelio like you off to,

on your tort, anyhows?

Here.

Fantabulosa!

Bona place to call your flowery patch,

if you can get heels on it, eh?

It's in the Lake District.

Yeah?

You got the denari for a trip up a district, like that?

Sorry?

The medzas, moola,

the filthy lucre?

Oh, yes, a bit.

Gushti.

'Cause you could always come see your Unky Bonafide,

if you get stuck in the brassicas.

Despite the shonky garms,

I'm not short on the old lollipops,

if you follow my fathoms.

I'm fine. Thank you.

Smashing!

In that case, keep your orbs in your bunts

and your lally tappers on the end of your stimps,

ready to scarper, if need be.

Am I right or am I left?

- Right. - Right.

Oh, hold on to your Irish jig, my little ragioso.

There's a sharpy palone headin' straight for us.

So if you don't mind, I might take this opportunity

to wish you a bona noche.

Bona noche?

Yes, Miss, here's one.

SOFIE: Hello.

Hello.

Fancy meeting you here.

I wouldn't have actually gone, you know.

I know.

Do you think you might like to come home, perhaps?

So you can send me away again?

I'm not sending you away.

I'm just asking you to think about it.

For me and for Papa.

If you do something for me.

Oh?

A deal? I see.

What is it?

ROALD: Take me here.

Beatrix Potter's house?

Well, this is Cumbria, isn't it?

You're thinking it's too far to go.

Actually, I'm thinking I hope this train leaves sometime.

We've a long journey ahead of us.

Oh.

Come on, what you waitin' for?

All aboard, ya dolly old minx!

SOFIE: Come on, let's go.

NARRATOR: Mouse knew with one glance this was his chance.

If missed, he might not get another,

for he was now strong as iron

and brave as a lion,

as long as by his side was his mother.

William!

Sorry, I've taken so long.

Sago, I mean, dinner is being very uncooperative,

and then I saw Tom.

WILLIAM: There's a visitor.

Sorry, I cannot hear a word.

Let me just get my boots off.

WILLIAM: You've got a visitor.

I cannot hear you.

I'll be in, in a minute.

I suppose I'm losing my hearing as well as my sight.

You'll be towing me across the fells

in a bath chair soon, Fleet.

Ooh!

Not again, Tom Kitten.

You mind? I just need to stretch the leg.

Thank you so much, terribly, terribly kind.

Roald, psst!

Roald, let's play a game.

Okay, what game?

Hide and seek.

A bit tricky.

Mm-hmm.

Okay, tag.

Again, tricky.

Mm, yes, tricky, tricky, you're right.

I spy.

Look, do you mind?

I'm trying to read the newspaper.

I would appreciate some quiet.

I am so very sorry.

We had no idea you were doing something so important.

Forgive us.

Just keep it down, will you?

Of course.

We will be quiet as mices, won't we, Roald?

Sandwich, darling?

Not hungry.

Yes, you are, darling.

All right, that's it.

Enough of this whiffle.

I bid you both good day.

Whiffle?

Wait here for a taxi.

I'll be right back.

WOMAN: Thank you. Quickly now!

MAN: Get the sheep.

Get the sheepdog. Get a move on.

Hurry up!

I haven't got all day.

Oh, come on!

Very slippery.

Here you go, ma'am.

- Get in, come on. - Careful, or you'll fall.

WOMAN: Get a move on.

Excuse me, sorry.

But I was actually next in line.

Oh? Were you indeed, you little pest?

Well, you ain't next in line anymore, are you?

But I was.

What a horrid lady.

Tell me about it.

Wow.

You should try livin' with her.

You can talk?

Hey, buddy, what can I tell ya?

I used to do a whole lot of things

before this mook got hold of me.

Like what?

Like what, he says!

I could see in the dark, dig a den a mile deep,

run faster than an automobile.

Now look at me, an accessory to nothin'.

Why don't you just run away?

I've thought about it, pal.

Don't get me wrong, I have.

But to tell ya the truth,

in the end, I just don't have the guts.

I don't have the guts. You get it?

'Cause they took my guts away.

What are you laughing at, you nasty little brat?

Nothing, nothing at all.

WOMAN: Hey, George, and don't dilly dally.

Be lucky, hombre. Be lucky!

Who was that?

No one.

Mm!

Come on, don't stand about with your beard in the post box.

Apparently, we can walk from here.

Come on.

Another present from Tom Kitten.

Revolting creature.

Now you're givin' it to me.

Thank you so much.

Shall I tell her that you'll see her now?

Tell who I'll see what?

WILLIAM: Your young lady.

I haven't got a young lady.

Well, you have.

She's in the drawing room.

But I haven't killed Christmas dinner yet.

Honestly, Beatrix, leave that to me.

You have a guest.

Fine!

Can I help you?

Beatrix Potter, so lovely to meet you.

I am a huge, huge fan.

Anne Landy.

Oh, I wasn't expecting visitors today.

Oh really?

Oh don't say that, I can't bear it.

Warne assured me he'd made several introductions

on my behalf.

Didn't you get his letters?

Uh, no, I'm afraid not.

Delayed in the Christmas post, perhaps.

Yes, perhaps, perhaps.

The post is dreadful at this time of year.

It's dreadful.

I sent a cardigan to my sister in Freund.

Do you know she still hasn't got it?

When did you post it?

About two years ago now.

I see.

What exactly can I do to help you, Miss Landy?

Oh, gosh, of course!

If you haven't received his letters,

you wouldn't know, would you?

Shall we start all over again?

No, that's not really necessary.

I- Beatrix Potter,

lovely to meet you, huge fan.

Anne Landy, work at Warne's.

They sent me to collect the manuscript in person.

Save you the postage.

Have they, indeed?

That's most kind.

Can't have your lovely new manuscript going the same way

as my sister's cardigan, now can we?

No, heaven forbid.

So shall we get some tea,

take a look at what you've been up to,

you clever old thing you?

Thank you. That goes there.

So, this is it then?

It's exactly like the drawings, Mama, exactly,

even the rhubarb plants by the gate, look.

I can see.

Thank you.

What for?

For bringing me.

Sorry, you mean that is it?

Yeah, so I've seen it now.

No, no, no, no.

We did not travel all this way

to boil away to nothing in cabbage.

Go in.

I can't. I'm not allowed.

Says who so?

They do, right there.

Oh.

You're Norwegian.

You can't read that.

Just pretend you haven't seen it.

- Really? - Yes, yes.

Will you come with me?

Darling boy,

if I come with you on every adventure you have in life,

you'll never have any stories to tell me, will you?

ROALD: I suppose.

And when I am a little old lady,

stuck at home with a blanket on my knees,

I will need you, out here, in this big world,

telling me all about it.

Now go, start your adventures now.

I'll be back in one hour, okay?

Okay.

Okay.

You'll be fine.

NARRATOR: As Mouse scampered ahead

to the words she had said wrapped him up

as if now he wore armor.

And whatever he found, every detail, every sound,

he'd remember and take home to charm her.

So, what do you think?

Well, let me be totally honest with you.

I think it's divine.

Sorry, your face then, so funny.

You thought I was going to be cross, but I love it.

The little rabbit making ale in a pinny.

Cecily Parsley.

Yes, Cecily, absolutely love her.

Warne's will go bananas for it.

Honestly, I think we'll sell this by the ton.

I just know we will.

I'm sure you will.

Watch out, Peter Rabbit, there's a new bunny in town.

Well, if I finish off a couple of drawings today,

you can take it back to London.

Smashing.

Before you do...

Is there a problem?

No flies on you, B.P.

Warne was hoping you might be able

to make one teeny-weeny alteration.

Oh, he was, was he?

It's just those rather pesky blind mice of yours.

Eek.

What about them?

Well, nothing, obviously.

We adore them.

But general feeling in the office is

that some of the language is a little too,

how can I best put this?

I'd recommend quickly.

Extreme for the kiddies.

I mean, the fact that they're blind, in the first place,

all three of the darlings-

- It's a nursery rhyme.

But it's so sad.

Is it?

What was that?

Uh, what was what?

In the garden, did you see it?

See what?

You were saying?

Yes, then despite their obvious disability,

the blind mice, out comes the farmer's wife,

and well, you know the rest.

Peter?

Sorry.

She cuts off their tails with a carving knife.

The nerve of people.

Exactly.

Horrible!

Not really bedtime story stuff, now is it?

We don't want to give the children nightmares, now do we?

I'm sorry. I don't follow.

So Warne's have sent me here in the hope

that between us we might be able to come up

with something a little less ghastly.

We?

I know, you and me.

Should be fun, don't you think?

Closed, love.

Sorry, I'll rest here for a moment.

Come on then, there's room at the inn.

What inn?

This one.

Park yourself there.

I'll get the kettle back on.

That's very kind. Thank you.

Well, can't be turning you away

in your condition at Christmas.

Who knows who've you got parked in there?

I might go down in history as Dora, the heartless waitress

what turned away the new messiah.

I don't think it's the new messiah.

This is baby number five.

Ooh!

Crikey, you have been busy.

Hasn't your fella got any other hobbies?

Tell him to take up cricket

or cross-stitch or something.

And if that fails,

just tie a knot in it.

Oh God.

Oh you poor lamb.

Oh, I'm such an idiot.

He's left you,

- hasn't he? - No.

Not left you?

He's not dead, is he?

This week,

pneumonia, but then,

two weeks before that, my little girl died,

burst appendix, and my baby is due any day now.

We have run out of money, almost entirely.

And then, to top all the things off,

my youngest son ran away from home

to find a Puddle-Duck.

Right, you stay put.

I'll be right back.

Where are you going?

To fetch the rest of that cake.

We're gonna need it, judgin' by the week you've had.

ANNE: They all run after the farmer's wife,

who releases them kindly and ends all their strife.

No.

Who, who stands on a chair and screams for her life.

That's it! That's it!

Well, I'm sorry.

You're saying a farmer's wife screams for her life,

because she's seen a mouse?

Well, not just one mouse, three, and they're all blind.

Think of it, it's utterly terrifying.

Have you ever met a farmer's wife, Miss Landy?

No, never, but don't you think it's scans beautifully?

- I love it. - Yes, well, I don't.

And the last time I checked, it's still my name on the cover

of these blasted little books and not yours!

I see.

Look, I'm,

I'm sorry I snapped, but the truth is,

you, you haven't called at the best time.

Christmas is days away,

and I've still got so much to do on the farm.

I haven't even killed Sago yet.

I'm sorry, who?

The duck.

Beatrix, can I call you Beatrix?

No.

I think I know what the problem really is here.

In fact, everybody does.

That's why they sent me.

What problem?

Oh, please.

Don't pretend you wouldn't rather be out there,

with your sheep or pigs, rather than in here with me.

Mm-hmm.

And yet,

the money is awfully useful, isn't it?

What exactly are you proposing?

All I'm saying is the sooner you just sign off

and agree to my text,

the sooner you can get back on the farm.

We get this sold, and everyone's happy, are they not?

Fine, change the text, have it your way.

Marvelous.

Now that's something we can all drink to.

Not that cup.

ANNE: Oh my, it's dead.

How frightfully awful!

What?

I'm saving it for later.

To eat?

No, to draw, of course.

Oh, of course, silly old me, I thought...

Never mind.

BEATRIX: Oh, little blighter!

ANNE: I beg your pardon.

- Oh no, you don't. - What?

Beatrix, no, where are you going?

Where are you going?

'Cause we haven't actually finished.

Beatrix!

You have been so kind.

I was gonna say a problem shared is a problem halved,

but in your case, I think you've had more

than your fair share.

Well, maybe I'm due some good luck then.

Well, let's find out, shall we?

Sup up, and I'll take a look at what's coming for you.

I don't, I don't understand.

I can read leaves, can't I,

see the future in your cup.

Okay.

Come on then.

Pass it over.

BEATRIX: Hey, you out there!

Can't you read?

No trespassers, it says!

Oh, I see a journey.

And it looks likes it's going towards a,

a palm tree, I think.

Oh, so somewhere sunny.

I doubt it,

unless you mean the next train to Cardiff.

Oh, actually, now you say it,

it could be an umbrella.

Mm, more like it.

And I see money,

lots of money.

Going out or coming in.

Oh, it doesn't say, sorry.

Don't apologize.

That tea has done me more good

than anything the leaves could tell me.

The truth is that we can never really know

what the future holds.

The only thing we can control is how we choose

to respond to it,

and I'm going to choose to be brave,

to show my quiet, worried boy

that even after the longest, darkest nights,

there comes a new day,

even after the saddest, hardest year comes a fresh start.

Thank you, Dora.

Hang on.

There's one other thing.

That, that boy of yours,

he's going to be a writer,

a very famous writer.

Is he, indeed?

But he'll never have a beard.

Now that I can believe.

Happy Christmas, Dora.

Happy Christmas.

I know you're here,

you little hoodlum.

And you should know that I have set the dog loose,

and she's not had her dinner yet, either.

So I'd get gone if I were you.

I'll find you, you nasty little gutter bug.

And we all know what happens to gutter bugs.

They get squashed!

Do you hear me?

Squashed!

NARRATOR: Oh, Mouse, now what to do?

Is this the end for you too?

There's a witch who won't stop till you're dead.

She's got you caught in a trap,

and there's no turnin' back.

There'd be nothing to lose, if you fled.

Hello.

Nice to meet you, too.

Come on.

Boy.

I see you.

I see you,

you little blighter.

Trespassing is a criminal offense, you know.

And if the dog won't scare you off,

I'll just have to do it myself,

When I catch you.

I told you to scram.

Oh for goodness sake, dog,

what use are you, really?

Now off my property,

or you'll be going the same way

as the last trespasser around here.

Is it dead?

What? This?

Yes, very.

Did you kill it?

No, the cat did.

Tom Kitten at it again.

Might have been.

Doesn't it frighten you?

Nope.

Why not?

Seen more frightening things than that.

Like what?

Rouge.

Rouge?

What on earth is so frightening about rouge?

Just looks strange when I saw it on Papa,

when they laid him out.

Oh, I see.

I take it he, uh, didn't wear rouge normally then?

Not normally, no.

So what did you do when you saw it, the rouge?

Just closed my eyes, scrunched tight, like this.

Open them.

And if I were you, from now on,

I'd keep them open, always.

Don't miss a thing,

because when you're small,

you see it all from a different angle.

Well, what happens when you get big?

Oh.

Well, you stop seeing everything so clearly,

and it all turns into a bit of a blur.

And then they make you wear spectacles,

and so you have to do your very best

to remember it all instead.

Luckily for me, I do.

I remember it all.

So what on earth are you doing here anyway?

I've come to see Beatrix Potter.

Well, there you go.

You've seen her now.

So you can buzz off.

Go on! Scram!

Oh, hang on!

You've forgotten something!

ASTRI: And please, could you get Roald

a new Beatrix Potter book.

He's read me all his old ones so many times,

and I'd really like to hear something new for a change.

Miss Landy.

I have a question to ask you.

Please do.

Have you actually read any of my books?

Well, of course.

Like I said, huge fan.

Good, well, then you will know

that the animals I write of may well look sweet.

They may well wear petticoats or bonnets

or little pale-blue jackets,

but the world they encounter is all too real,

just like the children who read my books.

Why are you telling me this?

Because we cannot shield children

from the realities of life,

nor do I choose to.

In my books, rabbits get caught by farmers

and baked into pies.

Hounds charge about and eat a duck's beloved eggs.

Rats sometimes even eat kittens,

or they certainly try to.

And so far, children have coped

with all of this and more perfectly well.

So thank you for your time.

But I've changed my mind.

The line stays as it is.

And I have it on great authority

that children have seen far worse than that.

Good heavens!

Oh, my hat!

No!

Can't you stop her?

Oh, you can try.

Good heavens!

You put that down at once!

My hat, don't you eat that!

My hat!

Bad! Yuck!

So did you see her?

I'm not sure.

It might've been her, or it might've been a witch.

A witch?

I see, well, we best be going then,

before she comes back and turns us all into, what, toads?

Not toads, mice.

Yes, mice. Quickly, run!

- Mrs. Heelis? - Mm?

We're taking the next lot of Herdwicks up

on the fell now, if you're free.

I'll be right with you, Tom.

So what's it to be?

Fine.

Have it your way.

Cut off their tails.

Excellent.

Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Landy.

I trust you'll find your own way out.

Thank you.

You'll have a wonderful Christmas, won't you?

So, Tom, imagine if one were to buy Troutbeck Farm.

Not likely, Mrs. Heelis.

I've got enough on my hands trying to pay off Mrs. Tom's tab

at the Lamb and Flag, I'll be honest.

All right, not one, I.

Imagine if I were to buy Troutbeck Farm.

Then you'd own half of the lakes,

and you could do as you please with it, I'd imagine.

Like get lots more Herdwicks?

You'd have more sheep than they got

in the whole of London.

Again, not really any sheep in London, Tom.

Wouldn't know. Never been.

Would you like to go?

It's only that you do mention it quite a bit.

Me?

Go to London?

Not on your nelly!

Then perhaps you'll just have

to look after Troutbeck Farm, for me, instead.

Could do.

Could do!

You go on. I'll catch you up.

All right then.

All right then what?

I will go to that school.

At least then I'll have stories to tell you, won't I?

Yes, Roald, you will,

lots and lots.

NARRATOR: Now little Mouse knew

this adventure was through,

but another was sure to begin,

for every mouse, great or small,

there's adventure for us all.

We just need the courage and support to jump in.

But keep in your mind,

there'll be troubling times

and days you're not covered in glory.

MOUSE: Whee!

NARRATOR: Then take my advice.

Learn a lesson from Mouse.

Don't let the tragic kill all the magic.

Write your own story.

That's it, Sago!

I give up.

You win.

Beatrix!

Beatrix, we're having cabbage for Christmas dinner, again.

BEATRIX: We have eaten Sago.

It was rather dreadful,

and the stuffing disagreed with my conscience.

With love and best wishes for Christmas,

from your affectionate friend,

Beatrix Potter, Mrs. Heelis.

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