All language subtitles for Father_Brown_S11E04

Thank you.

How long is it
since you've seen your friend?

Ten years. Before she became
a huge success.

Oh, here she is!

Oh, my goodness, Isobel!

Harriet!

BOTH: Oh!

My husband David.
Isobel, my dear friend.

How do you do?
Very well.

This is our wonderful priest,
Father Brown.

How nice to meet you both.

And how very exciting to have
a food fayre here in Kembleford.

Isobel will tell you how much
I've been inspired

by my darling Kembleford to cook.
Oh.

Izzy, do you remember
the parsnip soup party?

Oh, that was so funny!

I don't think Mother's kitchen was
ever the same again.

So I thought, "This is the place.

"This is the place to introduce
people to food

"from all around the world."

And to sell some books.

David is also...
Yes, my publisher.

Stroke of luck. Harriet also runs
a cookery school.

Can you imagine the response
from these dear, dear people

when they taste chicken tikka,
Szechwan prawns, vegetable masala?

Well, I know none of those dishes,
but my stomach is already rumbling.

And, Izzy, tomorrow you must be my
administrative sous-chef.

Oh, no, I'm not sure... I've named
it Kemblefood.

SHE LAUGHS
What do you think? Oh, ha. Yes!

Oh, it reminds me when we organised
the school dance together.

Oh, yes, you must have one of these.

Incidentally, there's a very
important hotelier coming

on the final night dinner to
hopefully give me the nod

to do this nationally.

No pressure.

Right,

off we go.

Chop chop.

How exciting - culinary adventures

in Kembleford.

It smells really good.

Shuzha what prawns?

Szechwan prawns, I believe.

Shall we? Hmm.

Oh, you look stressed, Mrs D.

I was only supposed to be helping.

Are you all right, Chef Faridi?
Is your sous-chef here yet?

No, he is ill. Oh, my goodness.

It will be fine.
I will just have to manage.

APPLAUSE Oh!

Thank you very much. Everyone,
may I introduce Lei Yen,

head chef of Five Spice Province,
one of London's best Chinese

restaurants, and Rafi Faridi,
owner of The Cinnamon Ruby -

one of the best Indian
restaurants in Birmingham?

APPLAUSE Chef Faridi, Father Brown.

Welcome to Kembleford.

Good luck.

I can't wait to taste chicken tikka.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Chef Yen's cooking demonstration
will begin in five minutes.

Chef Yen. Father Brown.

Welcome to Kembleford
and good luck.

I'm excited to try
Szechwan prawns -

if that's the correct
pronunciation?

You should have heard me try to
pronounce Worcestershire sauce

for the first time.

Harriet, this is
Chief Inspector Edgar Sullivan.

How do you do?
Oh, hello! Yes.

I was beginning to wonder
if you even existed.

Would you mind popping those
over there for me?

What are you making?

I am making samosas and pakoras.

Beautifully spiced -
all the way from Birmingham.

The spices and the love are
from Bihar.

Ooh! I like ordinary food, really.

It's just cos I haven't had much
chance to try all this stuff.

Ah, well, then, perhaps you can do
a small favour for me.

Er...

Can I help, Mrs Devine?
You could hide me.

Harriet's just told me that this
special guest at the dinner tomorrow

is Hugo Pearl-Blythe.

From the Pearl-Blythe Hotel
in Mayfair.

I've got to organise it with
Harriet breathing down my neck,

and you know me with organisation.
We're all here and ready to help.

Thank you, Father.

This just reminds me
of the school dance she mentioned.

She delegated everything to me
and took all the credit.

That's a very interesting saucepan.

It's a wok. The narrow base helps
cook food very quickly.

Oh. Impressive.

As is your running your own
restaurant.

It belonged to my father.

I took over two years ago,
when he died.

What's a man got to do to get
a decent meal around here?

I had no idea. How nice!

Everyone who doesn't know -
Chester Gates, restaurant critic,

renowned food writer.

Charmed! I must say, Harriet, you've
pulled a marvellous thing together.

Though I suppose since the cookery
school closed, you must have

more time on your hands. Closed?

My decision - to concentrate
on my recipe books, Izzy.

They're flying off the shelves. Ah.
Congratulations.

I'm very much looking forward to the
Chinese cooking demonstration.

Szechwan prawns and chop suey.
How very...safe.

Though interesting to a new
audience.

Oh, Chester, the cooking
demonstrations are sold out.

I was sent tickets for all events,

including the celebration dinner,
by some...mysterious benefactor.

Really? Well, yes.

How else would I be expected to know
about such a backwater event?

Father, come and try this dhal.

Dhal tarka - lentils with garlic.

Oh, my goodness!

Chef Faridi, that is delicious.

Thank you, Father. Brenda here
kindly agreed

to be my stand-in sous-chef.
Oh, yeah.

I'm just stirring things, basically.

Rafi, that aroma must be dhal.

It is indeed, Mr Gates.

Welcome.

You are clearly an aficionado.
You could say that.

My father,
who passed away last month,

he worked for the British Governor
in Bihar in India.

He enthused about Bihari cuisine

and when Rafi set up in Birmingham,
I simply had to try it.

I was rather
a champion of his cooking.

We were going to open a restaurant
a couple of years back.

Never came off. Unfortunately.

What a shame.

It's, er, very disappointing.

What would be most disappointing,
of course,

is you not making your
chingri malai for dinner tomorrow.

It's not on the menu.
Oh, come on, now.

I've mentioned it to Hugo.
It's incredible, Father.

A local who worked in the kitchens
at the mansion in Patna,

he made it once

and my father insisted he have it
every day for a month.

What a recommendation.

Unfortunately, I do not have
the ingredients.

Right.

You never were one to be influenced
by the opinions of others.

But perhaps your arm can be twisted.

It is all about the timing.

I waited for the prawns to
colour in ginger and garlic.

The sauce is tomato puree,
chilli bean sauce,

black vinegar, sugar, sesame oil.

Add salt and white pepper,

stirring all the time over
a high heat.

Done.

Serve...

..with fresh garnish.

Szechwan prawns, beef chop suey.

Wonderful!

Do try some.

Hmm.

The sauce could be richer.

Perhaps a little more garlic.

The prawns, though,
are perfectly adequate.

Some chefs spend a lifetime
waiting for an "adequate" from you.

Oh, dear. Clearly as thin-skinned
as your father.

All grist to the memoir mill -

Chester Gates: A Critic's
Life In Food will soon be delivered

to the British gourmand press,

with all the, er,
tasty morsels left in.

All the revelations,

sins, disappointments.

If Lei has another run-in with
Chester, she could leave,

which would be a disaster.

You have to baby-sit him tomorrow,
Izzy.

You have to steer him
away from any trouble. You...

..are a life-saver.

If you had been honest with me,
I wouldn't have gone to the expense.

I didn't have an
opportunity to tell you.

It's business, dear boy! HE CHUCKLES

Chester's gone to proof-read
his memoirs.

Hopefully, we're spared
any more drama. Ha.

I am surprised that the world of
cookery is so full of controversy.

Anywhere there's an ego at stake.

Though Chester is
particularly vicious.

The review he gave Chef Yen's
poor father...

Let's hope he doesn't have the same
thing in mind for Kemblefood.

CHURCH BELL RINGS Excuse me, Father,

I may have some feathers
to unruffle.

Oh!

Oh.

Are you coping, Mrs Devine?

Well, I could have done without
being tasked with chaperoning

Chester Gates tomorrow. Indeed.

I am on hand to offer any
assistance I can.

Thank you, Father.

It's only been one day
and I'm already exhausted.

Surely it will get easier.

I'm sure it will.

I'm sure we agreed on eight o'clock.

He's nearly half-an-hour late.

Perhaps we should go and knock.

Hmm.

I'm very grateful for your help,
Father. My pleasure.

An interesting man,
if slightly controversial.

Hmm.

Mr Gates!

It's Father Brown.
I'm with Mrs Devine.

Oh, my goodness.

That looks like rat poison.

CAR ENGINE STARTS
UP OUTSIDE

I understand that Mr Gates ordered
the cheese sandwich for his supper,

which is odd for a man who
so enjoyed fine dining.

It seems that someone added
the poison in the kitchen.

Indeed.

Or distracted him and added it here.

We can't rule out a visitor.

The famous memoir.
Possibly a clue to the motive.

If the content of the memoir
was the motive,

it's odd that it's been left behind.

A list of chapter headings.

Cakes, Quiches And Porky Pies.
A Spicy History.

Death In Chinatown.

The tickets. Mr Gates mentioned
being sent those tickets

to the fayre anonymously.
Could that be important?

And the pen used to write
the address had a damaged nib -

it's left an un-inked
line on every character.

CAR SETS OFF OUTSIDE Yes. Thank you, Father

and Mrs Devine.

Right, sir, the landlady says their
rat poison is missing from

the kitchen. She thought she might
have heard a female voice last night

when she knocked with the sandwich
just after ten.

Mr Gates only opened the door
a fraction.

She thought he might be
hiding something.

No female visitors after hours,
you see.

Surely she would have seen any
visitors though.

Not if they were already
a guest here.

I'm sorry, Rafi. You'd known him
for a long time, hadn't you?

If there's anything I can do to
help. Thank you, Father.

Rafi, so sorry to burden you,

but Chester mentioned this
incredible dish of yours

to Hugo and he'd very
much like to try it.

I don't suppose you could make
it for us, could you?

I, er...

I, er, will do that.
Of course. For Chester.

Izzy, you can make the changes to
the menus for the dinner, can't you?

KNOCK AT DOOR

What have you got for me, Sergeant?
We could be onto something, sir.

This chapter is
missing from the manuscript.

Is it, indeed?

Oh, you're so skilful.

I learnt everything
from my father.

He must have been very proud of you.

Miss Yen,
could I have a word, please?

Er, yes.

It's in relation to Chester Gates.

A woman's voice was heard
in Mr Gates' room before he died.

Was that you, Miss Yen?

Yes. It was.

I wanted to talk to him
about his book.

I see.

There's a chapter missing from
Mr Gates' memoir with the title

Death In China Town.

So? We believe that to
be of significance.

Lei Yen, I'm arresting
you on suspicion of murder.

Surely not.

You are not obliged to say anything,

but anything you do say may be
given in evidence.

Sergeant.

But I didn't do it!
This way, please, Miss.

What's going on?!

I would like to
talk about Miss Yen's arrest.

That's fine, Father, but just so you
know, Miss Yen's fingerprints

have now been identified
in Mr Gates' room.

She also had access to the rat
poison in the guest-house kitchen.

So did many other people.

You can't argue with the motive -

her father died of a heart
attack less than a week after

Mr Gates' review of the restaurant.

It's fair to say
she would blame him for that.

Well, yes, perhaps.

And who besides Miss Yen would
have reason to remove

a chapter from Mr Gates' memoir?

It was clearly about her father.

Thank you for dropping in.

I should like to speak to her.

Of course you would, Father.

What happened last night?

I saw Chester in the corridor
and demanded to know

if he'd written about my father.

To avoid a scene,
he invited me to his room.

Did he give you any details of what
he'd written?

He said it was only what was
already public knowledge -

the meal he ate,
the terrible review he wrote.

I see.

I know the chapter is missing,
but I didn't take it, Father.

Someone else is trying to make me
look guilty. I swear.

Did you see anyone else last night?

No.

Although, when I met Chester in
the corridor,

he was leaving something
outside Rafi's room.

Did you see what it was?

A pot of some kind.

I was surprised, given their failed
business venture.

What happened between them?

Rafi suddenly changed his mind.

I don't know why.

Father, my family rely on me.

Whatever my feelings about Chester,

I would never put their welfare in
jeopardy.

Please!

Believe me.

I will do whatever I can to help,
Miss Yen.

Er, cumin.
Cumin. Very good.

And this? Cardamom.
Yes, Brenda! Very good.

And this? TOO-meric.
TUR-meric. Very good.

Everyone forgets that there
is an R at the start.

You know, these smells, they always
remind me of my mother's cooking.

It feels like such a long time ago.

It takes guts to start again
far from home.

Miss Palmer, Chef Faridi.

I've just spoken to Chef Yen.

She says she saw Mr Gates
leaving a gift for you.

Bihari masala powder.

Clearly, Chester wasn't going to
take no as an answer

about his favourite curry.

Or perhaps he meant it to show
he had no hard feelings.

May I asked why the restaurant
plan fell through?

Of course.

I had discovered who
Chester's father had worked for.

The Governor of Bihar? Yes.

Mr Gates-Ellis worked
for the Governor at the time -

the man who could have stopped
the riots and the massacre.

Massacre?

Nine years ago.

I am a Hindu, Father,

and we have lived with Muslims
side-by-side for many years.

But in Bengal, there was fighting
between the two faiths

and the Muslims attacked the Hindus.

The British could have stopped it
very quickly, but they delayed.

And thousands of people
lost their lives.

I could not, in all conscience,

go into business with someone
connected to it.

I see. After that,
Chester cut off all ties.

Until yesterday, I had not seen him
for two years.

Thank you, darling.

No, no.

Er, no, this doesn't seem to be,
um...

No, your pen's not working.

Thank you!

There we are.
Thank you so much.

How am I supposed to organise
a celebratory dinner

with the key chef in custody?

I'll just have to find
a replacement, won't I?

In Kembleford? Even if someone has
to come down from London,

these things do work themselves out.

I don't think you realise quite how
much we've put into this.

It doesn't matter to you if it
fails, but this is my reputation.

Welcome! Do try the lemon tart.

The recipe is in my new book.

Have a look through.

Father, Harriet just tried to sign
an autograph with David's pen.

Doesn't this remind you of the
envelope addressed to Mr Gates?

Well spotted, Mrs Devine.

Oh, gosh, that's the delivery.
That doesn't look like 30 chairs.

Oh, dear. Um...

Excuse me.

Mr Sykes! Oh, hello, Father.

Sorry. Rather distracted
trying to find a replacement chef

with no notice at all.

Oh, how stressful.

Would you have Chester Gates'
details in there?

I believe it was your fountain pen

used to address his invitation
to the food fayre.

I did send it.
Why anonymously?

Harriet hated the man.

I didn't want it to get back to her
that I was chasing Chester

so he'd allow me
to publish his memoirs.

I thought that once
I revealed his free tickets

and accommodation were on me,
it would seal the deal.

So when he announced he was
publishing with another press...?

I was devastated.
Mine is a small publishers.

It would have been something
of a coup.

I'm rather against the wall, Father.

And with the sales of Harriet's
books declining,

it's all been rather dire.

I wonder if it will be better,
in the long run, for you to tell

Mrs Sykes what you've told me.

The story gets worse,
I'm afraid, Father.

Harriet's book sales can't be
as terrible as he suggests.

She closed the cookery school to
capitalise on her writing.

According to Mr Sykes,
the cookery school had to close -

it was a failed business.

Oh, dear.
HARRIET: You invited him?!

You realise one bad review from him
about the fayre

and we would have been sunk?
I thought it was worth the risk.

Harriet!

Oh, dear, indeed.

It seems I am the last to know about
my husband's ridiculous decisions.

Harriet, I wish you'd told me.

What was there to say? No-one wants
traditional cookery any more.

I've failed at every turn.

Were you concerned that Mr Gates
might include this in his memoir?

Wouldn't you be, Father?

But then when I bumped into him
briefly at the guest house,

he assured me he'd just been getting
a rise out of me. A bit of sport.

My business dealings were apparently
too dull to be included.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have a multitude of pies that need

preparing. BELL STRIKES

It seems my husband and I have sunk
our every last penny into this fayre

and it has to be a success.

Harriet, I'm so sorry.
Don't be.

At least we don't have to worry
about Chester

giving us a bad review now. Ha.

Sorry. That was callous.

But look what
he did to Lei's poor father.

If she did do it,
then I wouldn't be surprised.

Particularly after the rumours
I heard in London.

I want to ask you about Mr Gates.

At the fayre, when I suggested that
your father must be proud of you,

you didn't answer.

You were comfortable enough with
Mr Gates

to be alone in his room with him.

Miss Yen, I have to ask you -
were you more than acquaintances?

We met when he was looking
at restaurant sites in London.

He was the most charming man

and I fell for him.

And your father found out?

Chester was older,
divorced twice, not Chinese.

He made me end it.

And that provoked
Chester to write his review, but...

..I believe it was my father's
disappointment in me

which caused his heart attack.

That is a hard burden
to carry on your own.

Do the rest of your family know?

They would only have found
out from Chester's book.

Then it is ironic that the
murderer may have helped you

rather than framed you.

Um, Miss Yen, excuse me.

HE KNOCKS AT DOOR

There's nothing missing that doesn't
tally up

with the chapter headings, Father.

What are you actually looking for,
exactly?

Just one moment, please, Sergeant.

It's just the Chief Inspector's
due back at any time

and he might not be quite
so understanding. Indeed.

Oh, the Spicy History chapter.

He liked a bit of scandal,
didn't he, our Mr Gates?

And there was that pastry chef

who pretended he'd invented that
pudding.

And then there was that young cook
who's in A Spicy History... Vish.

Hmm. Yes.

Mr Gates did indeed seem
drawn to scandal.

No page numbers.

Of course.

Welcome, thank you so much.

In you go.

This is a disaster.

30 guests and only two chefs.
Where on earth is David?

Thank you. Oh, there he is.
Oh! Thank goodness.

Thank goodness! So kind
of you to come at such short notice

and just in the nick of time!

Kitchen.

Oh, yes,

we're on track.

On your own? I'm all right.
Rafi's just grabbing the prawns.

Very good.

You wouldn't happen to know where
Chef Faridi put the spices

left for him by Mr Gates, would you?

It's odd.

Chef Yen described this as a pot.

Vish.

Harriet Sykes, Hugo Pearl-Blythe.

Mr Pearl-Blythe, how wonderful.

Pleased to meet you.

Mayfair is stifling. Turns out
the countryside is stifling, too.

Is there any chance
I could be offered some refreshment?

Oh, er, yes, of course.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I
introduce Mr Hugo Pearl-Blythe

of the Pearl-Blythe Hotel
in Mayfair,

come to advise on turning our little
venture into an annual road show?

We will shortly be bringing out
traditional Chinese hors d'oeuvres,

an Indian curry main course,

and a fantastique French tarte tatin
made by yours truly!

Izzy can you get a drink
for Mr Pearl-Blythe? He's parched.

Please.
I remain unconvinced by coriander.

Is it supposed to taste like soap?

I hear that from some people.

I'm just going to see how long we've
got before they need curry.

Um, keep checking the rice,
will you, Father?

She's a very good sous-chef.

I've just been speaking with
Miss Yen -

in her cell.

I gather you've
known each other for a while.

Um, yes, we have.

How is she?

In good spirits, mostly.

She was telling me about her
relationship with Mr Gates.

I imagine, given the timing,
you were witness to the distress

caused by the end of
the relationship.

That is perhaps why you
decided to remove the chapter

about her from Mr Gates' memoir.

I have no idea what you're
speaking of, Father.

As well as part of the chapter
he wrote about you, of course.

"Rafi told me he could not work with
the son of the man who had

"allowed the massacres to happen.

"We never spoke again. I always
wondered

"if that was the real reason..."

The last sentence ends with
three full stops -

an ellipsis suggesting there was
more to follow.

The revelation of a secret, perhaps.

Where are these hors d'oeuvres?
Nearly ready to go. Calm down.

Has somebody checked on my tarte
tatin? I'm sorry, Father.

Chef Faridi? Rafi!

Well, where's he going?
We will be back as soon as we can.

I found the pot that
Mr Gates left for you.

It has "Vish" written on the side.

The young man in the kitchen
at the Governor's residence -

I believe that was you, Mr Faridi.

My mother gave me that pot.

She taught me everything.

She meant a lot to you.

She died...

..I changed. I became so bitter.

So full of anger.

And then there were the riots.

You became involved in them?

I was in the middle
of terrible things.

Terrible things, Father.

And I wanted to stop.

But in the noise

and the anger...

..it couldn't be stopped.

I have blood on my hands.

I'll obviously be working to
reduce the time between courses.

We... We just had a few issues
in the kitchen today.

There are people in the kitchen?

During the war, the warehouse
holding most of our fresh produce

delivery was bombed -

the day we hosted
an impromptu wedding breakfast.

Three of us served five courses
to 26 people.

So...

I know this is stressful for you.
Just try to stay calm.

Rafi is missing! They have been
waiting ten minutes

for their main course.

What am I going to do, Izzy?

Hugo's going to write me off as
a charlatan

who can't organise a picnic.

It's my last hope.

MRS DEVINE SIGHS

And I escaped to England to avoid
being arrested - penniless.

And I built myself a life my mother
would be proud of.

A food critic - an important man -

wanted to go into business with me.

It must have been a shock to
realise that Chester Gates

was in fact Chester Gates-Ellis -
the son

of your former employer in Patna.

Yes.

And when Chester's father
died recently,

he found memorabilia
from his time in Bihar,

including the spice pot that you
must have had to leave behind.

And a photograph of all
the kitchen staff that

worked in the Governor's mansion.

His father had already told him
about a chingri malai chef

who fled Patna to avoid being
arrested.

Chester made the connection.

And you realised all this
when he came to your stall?

And he told me about his memoir.

Leaving the spice pot outside
my room was his final warning

to get me ready for everything
to be revealed.

So you took drastic action?

I went for a walk to clear my head.

And when I came back,
I was angry, still.

And I saw that sandwich that
he'd requested.

"10pm sharp".

And then I saw the tin of rat
poison on the shelf.

I still had doubts.

I saw the landlady deliver
the sandwich

and Miss Yen leave his room upset.

And I knocked and I begged him

to keep my secret,

but he refused.

Would your father want you
to do this? Oh, a low blow, Rafi.

You are going to ruin
everything for me.

And my community will disown me.

I am not that same person.

Sadly, it's just too good a story
to omit.

Column inches sell books, after all.

And when he was dead,
you then read the manuscript.

I realised I could remove what
I needed to remove

and also help Miss Yen.

But now I know that
I made her look guilty

and I am so sorry for that.

You must know that there are others
you should tell.

Is there anything you can do
to help me, Father?

I can pray for you.

I want to run again.

You cannot keep running forever.

I understand, in your faith, that
you believe in dharma -

the duties you must follow in order
to prevent chaos in the universe.

Is not going to the police
and telling them

what you have done and asking for
forgiveness one of those duties

for a man of principle like you?

Ah, there you are!

What's going on?
Harriet's going to keel over.

Brenda, it's been an honour to
work alongside with you.

Thank you so much for your kindness.

Rafi?

Would you be so kind as to get

Chief Inspector Sullivan for me?

Mr Faridi, you wanted to see me?

Yes, Chief Inspector.

I'd like to confess to
the murder of Chester Gates.

In view of your confession, Mr
Faridi,

I am arresting you for the
murder of Chester Gates. No, no, no!

You're not obliged to say...
No, no! What are you doing?

Who's going to cook the curry?

Sergeant. Follow me, sir.

I'm sorry, Mrs Sykes, I truly am.

But what about the dinner?!

There are more important
considerations here, Harriet.

Can't you see that?

Oh, I don't think you understand
the importance of the situation.

Some of us have reputations.

The future of my business is on the
line!

What do you think we're
all doing here?

Father Brown and Brenda have worked
tirelessly to support the fayre.

David fetched a new chef
at a moment's notice -

not a word of thanks.

And I've been
defending your reputation,

even though you've shared
none of your worries with me,

as your oldest friend -

instead treating me like a member
of staff since you got here.

This is like the school dance.

It's not all about you, Harriet!

Mrs Sykes, Mrs Devine,
forgive my interruption.

I do believe that most
of the preparation for Chef Faridi's

curry has already been done.

And he was a very good teacher.

Perhaps we can ask Miss Palmer
to instruct Mrs Sykes

how to make chingri malai,
and we will all help.

I'd like that.

Yes, yes.
Well, let's make a start.

They finished their hors d'oeuvres
15 minutes ago

and someone's got to
stop Hugo from leaving!

I'll do my best.

Thank you.

Right, you have to fry
those in the mustard oil

and I am going to get
started on the coconut milk.

You know what you're doing?
Well, let's find out.

Yes, it's very ingenious.

The narrow base allows food to be
cooked at a much higher temperature,

thus vegetables
retain their crispness.

Is that so?

Couldn't nip into the kitchen

and explain how food is cooked to
Mrs Sykes, could you?

Fear not, Mr Pearl-Blythe,
your next course is moments away.

I do hope so, Father.

But your stalling tactics are good
for another two minutes

and then I will be leaving.

Ooh! That looks good, Mrs Sykes.

And, um, Mr Sykes,

switch the rice over and start
spooning it onto 30 plates.

Agh! Has anyone checked
my tarte tatin?!

Oh! Oh.

Probably going to have to be smaller
portions of rice, then, Mr Sykes.

Oh!

Wine?

Water?

Right, I'm afraid... I'm sure the
food will arrive shortly.

Do let me go and check.
No, Father,

I'm too tired and too hungry to do
anyone any favours.

Mr Pearl-Blythe, I, too, relish
the prospect of a full belly.

Father... If I may,
even as we speak...

..a small band of never-say-die
valiant heroes

are in a makeshift kitchen
cooking for us.

They have overcome misfortune
and battled disaster

and they are now keen to satisfy
the taste buds of a hungry,

frustrated guest of honour.

Is that not something for which you
could find

five more minutes of patience?

Well put, Father.

Here we are! Ha-ha! Finally.

It will be worth the wait.

WOMAN: Smells delicious!

Father. Thank you.

Mr Pearl-Blythe, did you enjoy
your meal with us in Kembleford?

Ah. The timings were awful,
the marquee is rather stifling,

and, er, well, the rest has already
been discussed with Mrs Sykes.

Good evening.

Harriet, I'm so sorry.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

I've got a meeting next week.

Well done.

Brenda, you were simply amazing.

I can't thank you enough.
Hear, hear!

Thanks. It's just a shame Rafi
didn't get a chance to see it.

You know, Izzy,

you alone pulled
this event together.

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

And I want you to know that
I felt

disappointed that you didn't feel
able to confide in me

about your troubles.

But then I wondered if I gave you
the opportunity...

Well, when do we ever say what
we really feel?

Well, yes.

I always felt overshadowed by you.

LAUGHS: I don't know why.

You were always far more
together than I.

Confident enough to
get on the stage,

the first to get married,
have a baby.

The way you coped with widowhood
and, um,

well, now your dashing Chief
Inspector.

Isobel Devine's doing just fine.

And Harriet Sykes will follow suit
quite soon.

Particularly now she's actually
speaking to her husband.

Anything can be fixed with good
communication.

I'll drink to that.

SHE GASPS Chef Lei!

Miss Yen!
How wonderful to see you.

Thank you, Father.

Sorry I couldn't be here.
How did it go?

Chaos. Wonderful chaos.

I wouldn't have missed it.

So you'll do it again next year?
Well...

Let's play it by ear. Hmm...

..yes.