All language subtitles for The.Mrs.Bradley.Mysteries.S01E02.DVDRip.x264-BTN.en

-''Parapraxis.''
-Parapraxis?

It's what Dr Freud would term
a slip of the tongue,

or a lapse of memory
revealing an unconscious desire.

Not what you might call
a useful word, madam.

Then how about ''paramour''?
An illicit lover.

How am I supposed to get that
into an everyday sentence?

That's the challenge, George.

Better late than never.

Perhaps if we hadn't had to go back
for your speech, madam.

I daresay Dr Freud would have
something to say about that.

I daresay he would, George.

I bet this brings back memories.
Happiest days of your life and all that.

The longest, certainly.

How exactly would you define
''finishing school'', madam?

It's a sort of farm
where they grow wives and mothers.

Where young women
are sent to be finished.

Which is precisely what they will be

if they believe half the twaddle
they're taught here.

-''Home, harmony, humility.''
-Hogwash.

Quick sticks, she's here at last.

Don't forget, Clementine,
vital I see your father afterwards.

Yes, Miss Ferris.

I read the other day
that smoking ruins the complexion.

Go on. Chop, chop!

(OPERA MUSIC PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE)

Such an honour, Mrs Bradley.

We thought
we might have to start without you.

(A WANDERING MINSTREL
PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE)

Our guest of honour, Mrs Bradley,
has been described by The Times no less

as one of the country's foremost
criminologists and psychoanalysts.

She is perhaps more at home
lecturing policemen at Scotland Yard

than young ladies at her alma mater.

Nevertheless, she has kindly agreed

to give this year's
Evadne Flint Memorial Lecture.

This will follow The Mikado.

Same here. Boring.

I hope you like Gilbert and Sullivan.

Frankly, Doctor,
I wish they'd never met.

# If you want to know who we are

Plum!

# We are gentlemen of Japan

# On many a vase and jar... #

(THREE LITTLE MAIDS FROM SCHOOL ARE WE
PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE)

# But here he comes

# Equipped as suits his station

# He'll give you
any further information #

-(WHISPERING) What are we waiting for?
-Miss Ferris.

Go and find her.

(PLUM SCREAMING)

(GRAMOPHONE STUCK)

Sayonara, Miss Ferris.

# You're the cream in my coffee

# You're the salt in my stew

# You will always be my necessity

# I'd be lost without you

# You're the starch in... #

-Heart attack, no doubt about it.
-Are you sure, Doctor?

Yes, she had a heart condition.
Just a matter of time, I'm afraid.

Who last spoke to Miss Ferris?

I did, madam.

Our head girl,
Clementine Prosser-Harries.

Did she say she felt unwell?

No, just that she wanted
to speak to my father after the show.

''Vital,'' she said.

He's chairman of the board of governors.

GEORGE: Any idea why she wanted
to see him, miss?

CLEMENTINE: Afraid not, no.

-WOMAN: Poor Miss Ferris.
-Poor Miss Ferris indeed.

-Excuse me, Mr...?
-Valentine, Max. Music tutor.

And this is Miss Mona Bunting.
Motherhood and make-up.

-How do you do? May I?
-Of course.

-I'd better write a death certificate.
-That might be premature.

These marks on the door...

The varnish has been scratched away.
Clawed I'd say.

And there's varnish
under Miss Ferris' nails.

It looks to me as though she was
desperate to get out, but couldn't.

You're quite sure
the door was unlocked, miss?

Yes, positive.

Oh, thank you, girls. You may go.

Come along.

-Are you suggesting something is wrong?
-Probably not,

but you should notify the police
just in case.

Police? But think of the publicity.

Think of Miss Ferris.

Mrs Bradley,
my husband and I have worked ceaselessly

to build Hadleigh Heights' reputation.

We are not having it shot to pieces
when the truth is plain to see.

Poor Miss Ferris had a heart attack.

Very well, no police.

On one condition.

You allow me to satisfy myself
there's been no foul play.

Do you find the school much changed
since you were here?

No, gloomy as ever.

This used to be out of bounds,
as I recall.

It's funny, I actually feel
rather naughty just being here.

Well, I hope you'll be comfortable.
Good night.

Oh!

Spiders everywhere!

-I'm sorry, they give me the creeps.
-Same here, miss.

Good night, Miss Bunting.

One or two of yours here, madam.

Criminal Minds.

Prison Reform.

Manners Maketh Man.

I didn't write that.

No. ''A guide to everyday etiquette
by Evadne Flint.''

MRS BRADLEY: Miss Evadne Flint.

She didn't care tuppence
for the three Rs.

The only thing she was interested in
was the three Es.

Elegance, entertaining, etiquette.

If you wanted to know
how to address an archbishop,

Miss Flint was the woman for you.

They got her in the end of course.
Embezzlement, as I recall.

Did you know ''a gentleman always
escorts a lady on the street side

''to protect her from splashes, footpads
and marauders''?

Yes. More to the point,

did you manage to pickpocket that key
from Miss Bunting?

-Well done, George.
-Thank you, madam.

You know, back in Pontefract
they don't call it pickpocketing,

they call it ''doing a George''.

You must be very proud.

(OPERA MUSIC PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE)

There, one death certificate.

It would have been sudden, I take it?

She wouldn't have felt a thing.

And I'm up the wooden hill
to Bedfordshire.

Good night.

I shan't disturb you.

GEORGE: Was Mrs Simms here
in your day, madam?

No, they're all new faces.

If you don't mind my asking, but if
you hated this place, why come back?

I've got one or two things
to get off my chest.

But they can wait.

First impressions?

A keen traveller. Very neat and tidy.

Keeping chaos at bay.

GEORGE: Paris, Moscow, Egypt,

Egypt...

A diary, fitted with a lock.

Aha!

-It's in gibberish, madam.
-No, George. It's in code.

So Miss Ferris was
A, neurotic, B, compulsive,

C, secretive to the point of obsession.

Ten bob you can't crack that code
by tomorrow.

You're on, madam.

Sapphire. On a teacher's pay?

Could be a gift. But then why hide it?

Trouble sleeping, Mr Valentine?

I'm just on my way for a glass of water.
You don't waste any time.

-No sense in letting the trail go cold.
-Assuming there is a trail.

Must be quite a shock, sir.

Suspicious death
right on your own doorstep.

The only surprise
is that in hothouses like this

it doesn't happen more often.

Do you know if Miss Ferris
had a regular travelling companion?

She headed the school trip
to Rome at Easter.

Otherwise she was deeply antisocial.
She made a point of holidaying alone.

Really?

Then who took all these films?

Mr Valentine was right. These hothouses
breed incest and rivalry and jealousy...

It's a wonder they get
any work done at all.

As for Miss Ferris,
she was a woman obsessed.

-By what?
-What indeed?

-Good night, George.
-Good night, madam.

Splendid, splendid and glide, ladies.

Glide.

Head, head! Chin, chin! Splendid.

Posture and poise,
s'il vous plait, Plum.

-Why the nickname?
-Anything beats Prunella, even Plum.

Mrs Bradley, can I be of help?

What can you tell me about Miss Ferris?

Best art teacher we ever had. Excuse me.

There we are.

There, that's better.
Little Miss Pretty.

She also taught conversation skills
and floral display.

Do you know if she had a lover?

Romances are not permitted
during term time.

My wife is most insistent.

My observation system
so we can see what is going on

in all parts of the school,
wherever we are.

Eyes in the back of our heads
so to speak.

Most ingenious.

We've had one or two jewellery thefts.

I rather hoped
this would prove a deterrent.

Speaking of jewellery,
do you know who this belongs to?

It was found in Miss Ferris' room.

Clementine, isn't this yours?

Yes.

I reported it stolen last week.

-My purse went missing, too.
-And my watch.

-I gather you didn't call the police.
-It was a purely internal matter.

And now Miss Ferris has passed on,

I think we'll leave it at that,
don't you?

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

Heads erect.

Agnes, it's a baby,
not a sack of potatoes.

What's the point?
This is what nannies do.

Yes, but you need to know
that nanny's doing it right.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

New timetable. I'm down for art.
Just got the hang of one subject

and now I have to bone up
on a mother one.

(MONA SPEAKING FRENCH)

(GIRLS SPEAKING FRENCH)

I've got to take over
conversation skills and floral display.

Did you hear what Max Valentine said?

''I'd just got the hang of one subject

''then I have to bone up
on a mother one.''

-He meant ''other''.
-Touch of the old parapraxis, madam?

Slip of the tongue
revealing unconscious desire.

Exactly. Or maybe these dolls
triggered thoughts of his mother.

Have you got that 1 0 bob handy, madam?

You've cracked the code, George?

Well, the most common letter
in the alphabet is E.

In the diary, it's F or possibly T.

So if F or T equals E
and we change every third vowel...

You don't know
what you're talking about, do you?

-Not a clue, madam.
-You're being too complicated.

If F equals E,

let's assume that each letter
corresponds to the one behind.

B equals A, C equals B.

In which case this reads, ''Mad, bad...''

And dangerous to know.

As Lady Caroline Lamb
said of her lover, Lord Byron.

Thank you.

Supposition. The mysterious Miss Ferris
had a secret lover, hence the code.

Secret because he's a member of staff.

Max Valentine?

I'll search his room, you keep him busy.

See if you can find anything
in his wallet.

And, George, go carefully.

I first saw the original of this

when I was on holiday in Paris
with my late husband and his mother,

who said, ''If he's The Thinker,
I wonder what he's thinking?''

To which my husband replied,
''Probably wishing he'd worn a vest.''

At that moment,
I knew my marriage was doomed.

That is very good of you, sir.
I used to love painting as a nipper.

Walls mainly.

I'd never have guessed.

''With birthday love, from M.''

This was supposed to be a life class.
Miss Ferris promised us a male model.

Well, I do have a copy of
a small sculpture by Rodin in my room.

PLUM: Anything beats bananas.

-All right, back in two ticks.
-No, sir!

No need for a sculpture, surely.

Oh, why?
Are you volunteering your services?

Certainly not.

In that case, I'll get my sculpture.

Well, I mean, on second thought,
if it would help...

(ALL GIGGLING)

-Did you need me, madam?
-GIRLS: No!

No, no, no, quite all right,
take your time.

One can't hurry art.

Thank you, ladies.

(GROANS)

PLUM: Bye, George.
CLEMENTINE: Thanks very much.

-Bye, George.
-Bye, Georgie.

MAX: Thank you, George.

Thank you.

-I'm burning this lot.
-Nonsense! I like this one by Plum.

Interesting perspective.

I'm afraid I didn't manage
to nab his wallet,

owing to a slight shortage
of hiding places.

?4 1 0

and an Italian passport
with a photograph of Max Valentine

but bearing the name Massimo Valentino.

-What about his room?
-Nothing,

except a book of poems given ''with love''

by somebody whose name begins with ''M''.

-Mona Bunting.
-Yes?

Just thinking aloud.
Would you give this to Mr Valentine?

He seems to have dropped it.

No, please, I don't want to know.

CLEMENTINE: ''Miss Mona Bunting
has been appointed Deputy Principal.''

Many congrats.

I don't want to speak ill of the dead,
but I am glad it's you.

Thank you.

A fob! How unusual for a woman.

No choice. Allergies, I'm afraid.

-Really?
-Yes.

Is that the Italian embassy?
Ah, this is Mr George Moody,

headmaster at Hadleigh Heights Academy.

Yeah, I'm checking up
on a countryman of yours.

Applied for a position here.
A Mr Massimo Valentino.

Can you help?
Yes, yes, of course I'll hold.

(OPERA MUSIC PLAYING LOUDLY)

Excuse me.

Yes, grazie to you, too. Thanks, bye.

I asked George to telephone
for some clothes.

I hope you don't mind.

That's a really top notch idea, sir.
You ought to patent that.

Madam.

''Dear Miss Ferris, we have pleasure
in enclosing your boat ticket.

''Final destination, Madagascar.''

Jenner's Bookshop.
''Dear Miss Ferris, we beg to inform you

''the book you ordered is
ready for collection.''

Postmarked...

-Yesterday!
-Yesterday!

-Poor Miss Ferris. Sorely missed.
-Indeed.

May I see the book she ordered?

I hardly think so.
She was a very private person.

And now she's a very dead person.

''The Well Of Loneliness
by Radclyffe Hall.''

-No wonder it's wrapped.
-Not mucky, is it?

No, but it is banned.
It's about love between two women.

Oh.

Oh!

Assuming Miss Ferris' secret love,

mad, bad, dangerous to know,
wasn't a man, but a woman,

judging by her reaction,
I'd hazard a guess at Mona Bunting.

Well, it could be her
who took those holiday films.

But then she did give those poems
to Mr Valentine ''with love''.

Maybe she butters her bread
on both sides.

-Beg your pardon?
-Question.

If Mr Valentine was in love
with Mona Bunting,

but discovered she was also involved
with Miss Ferris,

could he have been driven to murder
out of jealousy or even disgust?

(DOOR OPENING)

Morning, Doctor.

All ready for you.

And I've slipped in
some extra postcards.

Thank you, Mr Jenner.

Good day.

Might I inquire what the Doctor bought?

Not sure he'd want me to say, madam.

Pity.

All these imported books
and postcards you sell,

aren't they the kind the police
would be rather interested in?

If you must know,

he bought Practical Hypnosis
by Dr Jurgen Van Gelder,

and a book on sexual manners.

Sex, George.

Beg pardon, madam?

Sex or money. When it comes to murder,
it's usually one or the other.

Sometimes one can't help thinking

how much simpler life would be
without sex,

or what my mother used to call
''matters of the trouser''.

Then again, as St Augustine said,
''Lord make me chaste, but not yet.''

What Mrs Bradley's getting at, miss,
is are you...

I mean...

How exactly do you butter you bread?

Are you in love with Mr Valentine?

And were you also involved
with Miss Ferris?

I've been looking for that.

If there was a menage a trois,
it might have a bearing on her death.

Please try and understand,
as far as Mrs Simms is concerned,

even a conventional romance
means instant dismissal.

Anything at all unorthodox

would lead to utter ruin.

Was Mr Valentine aware of you
and Miss Ferris or indeed vice versa?

Not as far as I know.

I assume you're the ''M''
who gave Mr Valentine a book of poetry?

Then you assume wrongly.

Are you aware that Mr Valentine
is using a false identity?

Max?

Why?

That's what we'd like to know.

-Why did you lie to me?
-Not here.

Higher, higher. Quicker, girls, quicker.

Come on, Lady Lovely Legs,
put your back into it.

Good.

Reach, girls, reach.

Well done, Annabelle. Presto, presto!

I've been through the entire register,
madam, girls and staff.

Mona Bunting is definitely the only ''M''.

Perhaps it's a nickname.

Weren't you wearing your brooch
when we arrived?

-The school magpie has swooped again.
-No blaming Miss Ferris this time.

Telegram for Mr Moody.

-I didn't know we had a new headmaster.
-Are those Clementine's parents?

Yes, they're taking me on a picnic.
We're having champagne!

''Confidential. Signor Massimo Valentino

''not recommended for employment
at your academy.''

Well done, George.

What do they call that in Pontefract?

Picking a lock, madam?

Well, well! A suspect in several
major jewel robberies in Venice,

our friend Mr Valentine was tried,
but acquitted.

No wonder he came over here
and changed his name.

-But why keep all these papers?
-Ego, George.

Everyone loves to see
their name in print.

But if Miss Ferris found out
he's not who is says he is...

He'd want to keep her quiet.

And we've just told Miss Bunting.

Max, talk to me!

It was years ago.
There was a trial, I was cleared.

But your name, where you come from...

-Everything, it's all lies.
-I needed a fresh start.

You know how people are!
How dare you call me a thief!

Careful, sir. Manners maketh man.

Goodbye, Signor Valentino.

I suppose it was you
that told Mona about my past.

Yes.

Well, the allegations were untrue,

and if you've got some crazy notion
that I murdered Miss Ferris,

that's nonsense as well.

I don't recall accusing you of murder.

I'll tell you who you should be
talking to. Dr Simms. Dirty old goat.

He's been trying his luck
with Miss Ferris for months.

If you ask me, she was going to report
him to the chairman of the governors,

but she never got the chance, did she?

GEORGE: What exactly
are we looking for, madam?

Anything that tells us
more about Dr Simms.

Help!

I think I can smell gas from the kitchen
and the door's locked.

Leave this to George.

(HISSING)

(BOTH COUGHING)

MAX: What's going on?

George, get the police.

-Agnes, this is...
-Inspector Christmas, Scotland Yard.

Tell him what you told me.

I was just after some bickies,

but the kitchen was locked,
and I smelt gas.

So, you broke down the door,

and then you arrived,
is that right, sir?

I was on my way to get some water
and I heard Agnes shouting for help.

''I'm sorry, I can't bear the guilt.
I poisoned Miss Ferris.''

You're quite sure
this is Miss Bunting's writing?

Positive.

Her application to be deputy principal.
Identical handwriting.

I understand she and Miss Ferris
were rivals for the position.

Is that relevant?

Motive of a sort, I suppose.

May I ask why you didn't report
the death of Miss Ferris as suspicious?

I was convinced
it was just a heart attack.

But you thought
there was more to it, madam?

I had my suspicions, yes.

And Miss Bunting's death,
in your opinion?

Suicide as far as one can see,

prompted by the despair at being forced
to disguise her true self,

intense guilt at having murdered
her lesbian lover.

Suicide could have offered her
an end to her torment.

Could have?
You're not entirely satisfied?

It takes a lot to satisfy me, Inspector.

-Did you say ''lesbian''?
-Indeed I did.

It doesn't do to deny one's nature,
whatever that may be.

Open and shut as far as I'm concerned.
Just the way I like them.

And a chance to meet you.
Quite a bonus, madam.

I've read all your books

and I found your lecture
on Murder in Marriage fascinating.

-How kind.
-If I can ever be of assistance.

Henry Christmas. Unusual name.

The novelty wears off, believe you me.

A real pleasure, Mrs Bradley.

-Good day.
-Goodbye.

-Charming man. Charming.
-If you say so, madam.

Does anything strike you as odd, George,

-about this suicide?
-In what way?

Are we really to believe

that two teachers are dead
because of petty rivalry?

And Max Valentine up and about
in search of water

for the second night running.

He seems a remarkably thirsty young man.

So you think someone
could have knocked her out,

then put her head in the oven?

Before locking the door
and climbing out of the window.

But what about the suicide note?

Well, easy enough
to fake her handwriting.

Sheet of tracing paper,
steady hand, Bob's your uncle.

If so, hypothesis.

Whoever murdered Miss Ferris
also killed Miss Bunting.

Then faked her suicide and her
confession to throw us off the scent.

Interesting watermark.
Looks like the Colosseum in Rome.

I think it's time
we took a look at the staff files.

Find out exactly who we're dealing with.

-Bicky, George?
-Madam.

Beg pardon, madam, but this...
This etiquette malarkey.

Now, if I were going to
a society wedding,

how would I address
the eldest son of an earl?

Do you attend many society weddings?

Fair point, but would it be
''Lord How's Your Father''

or ''The Honourable How's Your Father''?

I really can't remember.

Well, would a gentleman escort a lady
into dinner on this side, or this?

A gentleman would know. Excuse me.

Thank you.

The answer to your question is,

''Mr How's Your Father''
would be a viscount.

My question is, why would Mrs Simms

keep a secret photograph
of Max Valentine?

Do you know, madam,
the word ''paramour'' springs to mind.

I was hoping it would, George.

My second question is,
what is he tearing in half?

-''Certificato''.
-Italian for ''certificate'',

and you can just make out
the letters Z-I-O-N.

Zion?

Some sort of Jewish connection?

You're a liar!
I did not steal your stupid crucifix!

You were the only one in the dorm alone.

-If you don't give it back...
-Can't, haven't got it.

Oh, and trust you two to stick together.

I know all about you two.
You're disgusting.

And you're a snob and a bully.
I hate you.

I'll see you later.

Loathsome creature.
She's always picking on me.

Probably because
you're a scholarship girl.

Is it that obvious?

I notice you darn your stockings,
just as I did.

You and I, Plum,
we're birds of a feather.

But you're as rich as Rockefeller.

Oh, my family was rich,

until my father decided to invest
in a gold mine in Basutoland.

-A word of advice, Plum.
-Never invest in Basutoland?

Precisely. Everything I have,
I've earned.

And the one valuable lesson I learned

from all the bullying and snobbery
I suffered from here

was that it can make you weep,
or it can make you strong.

She's done enough weeping.

Her parents died
when she was six. Influenza.

Who looked after you, miss?

Nuns in an orphanage.
If you can call it ''looking after''.

But soon we're going to be
one big happy family.

-GEORGE: How so?
-My parents are adopting Plum.

By Christmas Daddy says.

A real live sister. Best present ever.

MRS BRADLEY: Congratulations.

I know, I can hardly believe it myself.

-What then?
-How do you mean?

Dreams? Ambitions?

Monte Carlo, or a flat in London.

And lots and lots of parties.
What more could you want?

I want to be a writer.

All I can remember about my father
was him saying, ''Read, girl, read.

''Books contain
all the treasures of the world.''

She locks herself away hours on end
writing her precious novel.

A novel? How enterprising.

I don't suppose you'd have a look,
give me a few pointers?

I'd be delighted.

Ah, A Perfect Life. Thank you.

If it's not too bad,
perhaps you could show your publisher.

Perhaps.

''I know about you two.
You're disgusting.''

What do you think
that Agnes girl meant, madam?

I should have thought
that was fairly obvious, George.

What? Young girls like that?

In my day it was called
''having a pash''. Short for passion.

Seldom a lifelong state of affairs.

Right, madam.

At least, not necessarily.

#Jealousy

# It was only through jealousy

# Our hearts were broken

#And angry words were spoken

# Now all I have... #

What a delightfully louche crowd.

# To cherish so tenderly

# With every token

# You have given to me... #

Do you know where the tango
first originated, George?

-No idea, madam.
-In the brothels

of Buenos Aires.

# My life was hell

# Every moment we were apart

# Why did I make

# That great mistake?

# I wronged you

# Right from the start

# It was all over my jealousy... #

I proposed to the former Mrs Moody
at a dance. Not Buenos Aires of course.

Basingstoke.

Happy birthday, my darling.

Wordsworth. Perfect.

-It's not what you think.
-And what do we think, madam?

''With birthday love from M.''

-It's not how it looks.
-No.

Because ''M'' stands for mother,
doesn't it?

Which accounts for
your Freudian slip the other day.

I've really no idea
what you're talking about.

This is...

Oh, you've been looking
through my things.

I've been looking for a murderer
in all the wrong places.

Z-I-O-N. It's not Zion.

It's part of an Italian word,
''adozione''.

You were tearing up
your certificate of adoption.

# Good night, Vienna

# You city of a million memories

# Our hearts are thrilling to... #

It broke my heart,

but when you're 1 7,
working in a foreign land,

and find you're expecting a baby,
what choice do you have?

The father was your employer, I take it?

A businessman from Naples,
married to the Contessa Manzi.

I was governess to their children.

I thought it was love.
He said so often enough.

But when I told him
I was expecting his baby,

he called me 'puttana''.

Harlot.

I was packed off to their country house
until the baby was born,

then back to England alone.

But you don't have an Italian accent.

My father lost interest
when I was six months old.

He paid an English family to adopt me.

Took me 1 5 years to track my boy down.

Now I take him to lunch like this
every birthday, just the two of us.

And the robberies in Venice?

I was there on holiday. It was
a simple case of mistaken identity.

But people do love to talk,

so Mrs Simms, my mother,
gave me a fresh start.

And Massimo Valentino
became Max Valentine.

How long had Miss Ferris
been blackmailing you?

How did you know about that?

You were going to make her
deputy principal

even though your files show that
Miss Bunting was far better qualified.

Why promote the inferior candidate
unless she had a hold over you?

Appalling woman.
Money didn't interest her.

Status, that's all that mattered.

And she threatened to tell
the school governors about your past.

Yes. But I didn't kill her
if that's what you're thinking.

-Who else knows your secret?
-No one.

Except my husband.

Remember, mademoiselles,
we are ladies of quality.

Legs together, swivel,
and out you come, dainty as a daisy.

Charming.

Mademoiselle, remember, elegance.

Legs together, swivel, and...
Not too high!

Out you come,
pretty as a picture. Charming.

He fits the bill all right.

Illegitimate children,
foreigners, scandal.

Wouldn't do his school's
precious reputation much good.

If Miss Ferris was a blackmailer,

she'd have to be silenced
one way or another.

But imagine, George,
spending all day, every day,

surrounded by nubile young ladies.

I'm doing my best.

I mean, what effect
would it have on a man?

DR SIMMS: I think we'll do that
one more time.

Apart from that.

Dr Simms reminds me somewhat
of the ancient mariner.

''Water, water everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.''

Whether or not he's fallen overboard
remains to be seen.

This is the one
that will make my fortune.

If you'd like to press
the little black button...

Oh, look...

Well, if that
isn't the best thing since...

Well, since I don't know what.

No, thank you.

I've been talking
to your local bookseller, Doctor.

He told me of
your particular area of interest.

Hypnotism.

(STAMMERING) Oh, yes,
yes, fascinating field.

Most people read Van Gelder
on the subject,

but, personally,
I think Slegman has more to offer.

Yes, I've been experimenting with it

as a cure for phobias
and other conditions.

Really? Such as?

Well, nightmares.

Young Plum Fisher suffered very badly
when she first arrived,

but three or four sessions
seemed to do the trick.

-Who else did you treat in this way?
-I really couldn't say.

Almost time for your lecture, I believe.

Was Miss Bunting
one of your guinea pigs?

I'm sorry, I can't discuss patients.

Not even dead ones?

I can be very discreet
when the occasion demands.

Miss Bunting
had certain sexual proclivities

of which she was deeply ashamed.

-And powerless to resist.
-Oh, yes. Yes.

She wanted a cure.

Underwent several sessions
of hypnosis, but to no avail.

Were you aware that Miss Ferris shared
these same lesbian proclivities?

Not until you mentioned it, no.

Did you ever use hypnosis
on Miss Ferris, sir?

Yes, but that was for something
entirely different.

Was it a physical
or a psychological disorder?

Really, Mrs Bradley,

it goes against the grain
to discuss patients.

Well, we already know
she had a severe heart condition, sir.

Yes, and I told her she had to be
very careful from now on.

May I see Miss Ferris' case notes?

Very well.

Well, well.

When you broke the bad news
about Miss Ferris' heart condition,

there was no one else
in the room, I take it?

Of course not.

But there could have been
an eavesdropper outside?

That's possible, I suppose.

During that same consultation,

did you discuss
Miss Ferris' other problem?

-The one detailed here?
-Yes, I hypnotised her, in fact.

She was adamant that nothing
should interfere with her holiday plans.

-Madagascar.
-I beg your pardon?

She was going to Madagascar.

Madagascar.

A lush tropical island
off the coast of Africa

famed for its distinctive evolution
of flora and fauna,

including some of the world's largest...

-spiders.
-Spiders.

Message from Mrs Simms.
Everyone's here. Ready when you are.

Mrs Bradley?

Thank you.

Why don't you come and sit down?

I'd like to talk to you about your book.
It's very good.

Thank you.

I have a theory
about why some people write fiction.

They want to impose some sort of order

on the chaos of the world

to create the neat, happy endings
that life stubbornly refuses to provide.

And we all love
a neat, happy ending, don't we?

Yes.

Especially a girl like you.

Yes.

Why don't you close your eyes
for a moment?

Just for a moment.

Good girl.

(WHISPERING)

-Will Mrs Bradley be much longer?
-Hard to say, madam.

Once upon a time
there was an angry little girl,

furious with the world,

especially her parents,
for leaving her all alone.

She knew they couldn't help it,
but she was still angry,

and the anger was so deep
she didn't even know it was there.

There were many things
she didn't understand.

Why she had terrible nightmares,

and a compulsion to steal things
she didn't even want,

but had to have.

Then one day, she was caught red-handed.

You little thief.

Who said that?

Miss Ferris.
She saw me take Clementine's ring.

-And threatened to tell her parents?
-She can't do that.

The adoption's about to go through.
She'll ruin everything.

But who's going to stop her?

I am.

-Where are you now?
-Shh.

I'm outside the study,

eavesdropping on the Doctor
and Miss Ferris.

She's got a very bad heart.

No sudden shocks or else...

-Or else what?
-She'll die.

And there's something else, isn't there?

She's scared of spiders.

No, more than scared.
She's absolutely petrified.

# Three little maids from school are we
Three little maids from school are we

# Three little maids
from school are we #

-What now?
-I'm watching The Mikado.

-And where is Miss Ferris?
-In the dressing room.

But the door is locked.

Yes. No escape.

(THREE LITTLE MAIDS FROM SCHOOL ARE WE
PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE)

Let me out!

(GRAMOPHONE STUCK)

(GASPING)

The perfect murder.

Not bad for a scholarship girl.

Everybody's waiting.

What was it your father
said about books?

Books contain
all the treasures of the world. Why?

I believe this is your crucifix, miss.

Yes. And my watch.

And my brooch.

My pearls.

Don't look at me.

That's my crucifix, remember,
and my watch. Both stolen.

Or so you said, miss.

Well, anybody
could have put those there.

MRS BRADLEY: Just as anyone could have
forged Miss Bunting's suicide note.

One fatal mistake.

The Colosseum watermark
identical to the watermark

on all 206 pages of your manuscript.

Oh, Plum...

No.

We were nearly sisters.

Family.

That's all I wanted. So much it hurt.

How could I let Miss Ferris
ruin my one chance to be happy?

Haven't I been through enough?

Well, haven't I?

Try not to be
too hard on her, Inspector.

She's a very disturbed young woman.

I'll do my best, madam.

I do hope we'll meet again.

-Goodbye.
-Goodbye.

I'm not trying to justify what she did,
merely to understand it.

She craved a family and acceptance
in what passes for polite society.

But society is changing.

Last year,
we women won the right to vote.

Amelia Earhart flew the Atlantic.

Who knows, one day
a woman might be prime minister.

I was expelled from Hadleigh Heights.

Had I stayed,
I may well have come to believe

in home, harmony, humility

and gone on to lead a life of jam-making
and gin rummy in Chalfont St Giles.

So, girls, before you settle
for the little life,

remember, the world is now your oyster

and provided you believe in yourselves,
there is nothing you cannot achieve.

There's bound to be some
rather lurid publicity, I'm afraid.

We'll survive.

We're not the dinosaurs
you seem to think,

and people will always need standards.

And you know, Mrs Bradley,
some of us rather like the little life.

Winifred.

Not exactly birds of a feather
after all, eh, madam? You and Plum.

No, apparently not.

Come on. I suspect we've somewhat
outstayed our welcome.

Well, we have
if this is anything to go by.

Apparently, the Japanese have a saying.

''Visitors are like fish.
They begin to stink after three days.''

Clever people, the Japanese.

All set. I've tied it to the back.

Thank you. Arrivederci!

Goodbye.

-Tied what to the back, madam?
-Oh, nothing, just a little souvenir.

# You're the cream in my coffee

# You're the salt in my stew

# You will always be my necessity

# I'd be lost without you

# You're the starch in my collar

# You're the lace in my shoe

# You will always be my necessity

# I'd be lost without you

# Most men tell love-tales

#And each tale dovetails

# You know each known way

# This way is my own way

# You're the sail in my loveboat

# You're the captain and crew

# You will always be my necessity

# I'd be lost without you #