All language subtitles for the-amazing-mr-blunden

ALL TALK AT ONCE

Hot tatties! Nice potatoes!

Hot potatoes!

< Merry Christmas!

HENS CLUCK

ROOSTER CROWS

Lovely fresh fish!

A lovely bit of fresh fish, sir,

all nice and fresh.

Here you are, governor,

lovely fish.

Lovely mackerel caught fresh this morning.

Lovely fish all fresh,

fresh mackerel.

BAND PLAYS: "God rest ye merry, Gentlemen"

# Wallflower, wallflower

# Climbing up so high

# All the little children

# They are going to die

# Except our Mary Campbell

# She can dance

# She can sing

# She can wear a wedding ring #

LAUGHTER

# Wallflower, wallflower

# Climbing up so high

# All the little children

# They are going to die

# Except our Mary Campbell... #

KNOCK ON DOOR

LAUGHTER

Yes?

Yes? Can I help you?

Mrs Allen? Mrs Richard Allen?

Yes. That's right.

I represent a firm of solicitors, madam,

the firm of Blunden, Blunden, Claverton, and, er...

I suppose it's about rent.

Indeed, no, madam.

I'm no debt collector.

I am a partner in the firm

of Blunden, Blunden, Claverton, and...

what on earth is that dear man's name?

No matter. The important thing is that my news

will, I am sure, prove entirely welcome to you.

At least I trust it will prove

entirely welcome to you, Mrs Allen.

You'd better come in, then, out of the cold.

Oh, thank you.

Stand up, children. We have a visitor.

BABY CRIES

Do continue, my dears.

It is I who must apologise

for disturbing your meal.

Do sit down.

Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea.

Well, the chair I accept with gratitude, madam,

but the tea I must decline.

I'll come straight to the purpose.

Don't be offended.

I'm offering you a job,

or rather, a reasonable salaried occupation.

Why should I be offended?

My firm is seeking a reliable person

to act as a caretaker

to a property in our charge.

So far, we've been...

well, we've had some difficulty

in finding anyone willing to take the post.

Difficulty? Why difficulty?

Its...remoteness.

You understand?

It's a fine house, pleasantly situated,

but it stands alone,

some way from the nearest village.

A woman does the cleaning.

There's a rent-free caretaker's cottage.

Your duties would be very light.

What do the children say?

What do you say?

It is awful, isn't it?

But it's the best that I could find.

So little money, so many debts.

A widow's pension is all that I have.

Well?

BABY CRIES

Shh!

Excuse me. He's had a cold.

He must have earache.

I'll get some warm oil.

Shh! Don't cry.

Shall I help, mother?

No, thank you, dear. Look after our guest.

Are you - are you sure

you wouldn't like a cup of tea?

No, thank you... Lucy.

But now that we are alone,

I wonder... I wonder

if I might ask you both a question.

It's rather an unusual question.

Please consider it seriously.

Of course, sir.

You fire away.

Yes. Fire away.

Do you think you'd be afraid

if you saw... a ghost?

I think, quite honestly, sir,

I'd be a little scared.

It would depend on what sort of ghost.

If it was wandering around

in a white sheet moaning,

it would be all right.

A skeleton with no head and a nasty grin is different.

You can't grin if you've got no head.

Exactly.

Anyway, I have very good reason to believe

there are no such visions.

No. These ghosts would appear to you...

well...very much like ordinary people,

children, perhaps,

children...

of your own age,

or even an old man

such as myself.

We wouldn't be afraid of a ghost like that.

You wouldn't know they were ghosts,

unless you could see through them.

Even that wouldn't be scary if they had heads.

Sometimes ghosts are people

who come back seeking help.

We would help if we could,

wouldn't we, Jamie?

I believe you understand, little lady.

Children do, sometimes.

But as they grow older,

they lose their power

to believe in the unlikely.

When you come to the house,

you'll hear strange tales from the villagers.

They'll tell you it's haunted,

but you mustn't be afraid.

You'll know what to do.

We shan't be afraid.

We'll do what we can.

Thank you, Lucy, James.

CLOCK CHIMES

I must not stay. I've stayed too long.

Shall I fetch mother?

No. No time, no time.

Ask her to call at my chambers tomorrow.

DISTANT SINGING

Oh, the chambers -

where is it?

What a sensible lad.

# Star with royal beauty... #

Will it be there?

Will this address be there?

It looks a bit old.

It will be there.

Happy Christmas! >

What? Yes! A happy Christmas!

Tomorrow, then. Tell them I sent you.

Claverton will be there, or young, er...

what is his blasted name?

# O star of wonder, star of night

# Star with royal beauty bright

# Westward leading, still proceeding

# Guide us to thy perfect light... #

James! Lucy!

We three kings of Orient are, my dears.

A happy, a very happy Christmas!

BOTH: Happy Christmas!

Who was he, anyway?

He didn't say, did he?

# Guide us to thy perfect light... #

Yes, madam?

Can I be of service?

I've come about the job of caretaker.

You've come about a job?

You're looking for a caretaker

for a remote country house.

The job has not yet been advertised, madam.

How did you come to hear about it?

An old gentleman came to see me.

Jamie, you have the card.

I expect it was Mr Blunden,

that being the first name on the card.

He informed me of the vacancy

and advised me to call.

I see. You must forgive me, madam.

Mr Blunden has not been at the office recently,

and I did not realise

he had taken a hand in the matter.

If you'll give me your name,

I will inform Mr Claverton you are here.

Yes. Oh, Allen, Mrs Allen and my children -

this is Lucy, James... oh, and this is Benjamin.

Thank you, Mrs Allen.

Excuse me, please.

BABY BABBLES

Excuse me, Mr Claverton.

Well, that's odd.

That's very odd.

Very odd indeed.

Please, Mrs Allen,

Mr Claverton will see you now.

Thank you.

Good morning.

You may sit down if you wish.

Jamie, look.

It's Mr Blunden.

So it is.

Ahem! You are looking

at Mr Blunden's portrait?

He's the one who came.

I'm afraid I've caught you out there, Sonny Jim.

The portrait is in fact

of Mr Blunden's great-grandfather,

who died about 100 years ago.

I doubt if our Mr Blunden came to see you.

He's bedridden. Should be in a home.

Well, dear lady, I am delighted to have

a responsible person like yourself in charge.

I shall write and confirm our arrangements.

Arnold.

I feel quite certain that you'll have no trouble

from that little matter we talked about -

a country superstition, nothing more.

Are you Smith?

I beg your pardon.

On the card - Blunden, Claverton, and Smith.

No. I am Mr Clatterbuck.

You should be glad.

Why?

No-one could forget that name.

It is a silly name.

I'm sorry, sir.

Cheerio, then, Herbert.

Cheerio.

Any more want to get off?

Just us now, Herbert.

The big house, please.

Langley Park.

Langley Park?

Langley Park, Herbert.

Yes, Mr Clatterbuck.

Don't ask me to help with the bags like before.

Ghoulies and ghosties

and long-leggety beasties

that place has got.

Don't ask me to help.

Proceed, Herbert.

Mere country superstition.

Thank you, Herbert! Proceed!

Your key, madam.

Please let us be happy here.

Bless mummy and Jamie,

Benjy, and darling daddy. Amen.

And don't let there be any ghosts.

Oh, shut up, Luce.

WINGS FLAP

Poor books...how sad.

FAINT CHILDREN'S VOICES

..Stupid.

LAUGHTER

CHILD: Sara.

Sara.

Sara. Sara.

Sara.

GIRL: I know where you are, Georgie.

I'll find you.

Wait for me, Georgie! Wait!

Oh, Georgie, please wait.

It's Bella. Hide. Hide, Sara. Sara, hide.

Sara...

Who is it? Where are you?

Where are you?

Sara, I can't find you.

Sara.

DOOR CLOSES

Them's only kiddies, my dear.

Who...wh-what?

Wh-what?

Only kiddies.

A-are you a ghost? Are you?

Ha ha ha! No, dear. Me? No.

Tucker is the name, Elsie Tucker.

I do the place as best I can,

but as soon as I think I've cleaned,

it's time to start again.

It's all gold. It's all gold.

What kiddies were you talking about, Mrs Tucker?

Nothing to be afraid of, dear.

Them's only kiddies.

But who are?

Who are?

Who are what?

Only kiddies.

I suppose she means village children

say the house is haunted.

Well, it probably is.

Children know more than grownups about such things.

Good night, Lucy.

Good night.

Just rumours, I expect, Jamie.

But I did hear voices. Honestly, I did.

My dear girl, all big houses have voices

if they're alone for a long while.

Everyone knows that.

Just trying to be clever.

Good night, James.

BIRD CALLING

James! Jamie! Come here!

I just - look!

Cor, you look awful, Luce.

What's the matter?

Well, I-I think I've seen...

Oh, James, you know!

Ghosts?

James...two!

Two? Bloomin' Henry!

They're over there on the lawn.

Jamie...

Lucy.

Lucy.

At last!

We have found someone with a little good sense.

I beg your pardon.

You didn't run away screaming.

You didn't run away.

Well, I did. At first, I did.

I'm sorry, but in the mist,

I thought you were...ghosts.

They do say the house is haunted, you know.

Yes, we did know.

I suppose if we say that we are ghosts,

you will run away.

Mr Blunden said children our own age.

You ARE ghosts.

You really are.

If you are ghosts, you must be dead.

Of course we're not dead.

You do say some stupid things.

We're no more dead than you.

You can be a ghost without being dead.

He's too young to understand.

GIRL: Georgie, I do believe we have found help.

Tell us. Tell us how we can help.

I mean, who are you?

Yes. Tell us from the very beginning.

Start with "Once upon a time."

The best stories start with that.

James!

GIRL: All right. Once upon a time,

we lived very happily here.

But in the spring of the year 1818,

our mother and father were tragically killed

when their carriage overturned

coming back from London one night.

I am the Resurrection and the life.

He that believeth in me,

though he be dead, yet shall he live.

'Uncle Bertie, who was our father's half brother,

'became our guardian.

'Mr Blunden, the family solicitor,

'became our other guardian.'

Do stop snivelling in front of the servants.

Cry, boy. Cry.

HE CRIES

'After the funeral,

'Uncle Bertie lived in London.

'He took an unusual interest in the ballet

'and fell in love with a ballerina.'

# A naughty, naughty boy

# A naughty, naughty boy... #

'Her name was Arabella. She's pretty.

'Uncle Bertie thinks so, too,

'but in her mind, she's only a child.'

ALL TALK AT ONCE

Good evening, ladies.

Good evening, Bertie.

MAN SINGS AND PLAYS PIANO

Have a nice time, love.

'He often returned home to Langley Park

'to supplement his income from a private source.'

KNOCKS ON DOOR

CASH REGISTER RINGS

'And so Arabella and Uncle Bertie were engaged.

'That evening, they went to ask Bella's parents

'for their consent to marry.'

'Mr And Mrs Wickens were the proprietors

'of a select hotel.'

Mamma, this is Bertie what I told you about.

We're engaged. Look.

Oh! Wickens!

< Come and meet this here toff!

< It's our little Bella's intended!

< Wickens!

Watch this, Arthur.

GLASS DINGS

BOXING RING NOISES

Oh!

Uh! Uh! Uh!

THUD

'Uncle Bertie and Bella were married.'

BELLS RING

Where's she going for her honeymoon?

Paris? Rome?

Even if it's only the Isle of Wight,

put her out of her misery.

It may well be the Isle of Wight.

The Isle of Wight? Cor, strewth!

Now, steady, dearest.

The truth is that financially,

I am hopelessly embarrassed - hopelessly.

I haven't said so, as I had no wish

to spoil our wedding day.

You're having a good try.

You mean you're short of the ready?

Is that it? Well, blow me.

What an empty bottle of gin you are.

Who's got it all?

Who's got it?

Master Georgie is the only family member with money -

£30,000, to be exact -

left to him by his father, William.

It would have been mine,

but being only a half brother, Georgie gets it.

30,000 nicker?

Left to him in trust until he's 21.

It can't be touched.

It's Georgie's and his alone,

unless he dies, of course, but heaven forbid the thought.

But he's only 10.

He's got years to go.

My Bella will have gone to seed

in 11 years.

I'm not going to have her

living in this mansion in poverty,

slowly going to seed.

Dear mother-in-law, I will find a way,

I assure you.

My Bella will not suffer. I promise.

Oh, she will not.

You are quite correct there, Albert.

My little rose.

My nightingale.

That Georgie's got a lot to answer for,

being only 10,

and all that money going to waste.

I shall commence my economies

by sacking as many of the surplus staff

in this house as I can.

We shall have our honeymoon,

my dearest Bella.

Oh, make it soon, Bertie dearest.

Make it soon.

Did it. There. Now you.

'Most of the staff were sacked,

'and Mrs Wickens took over the housekeeping.'

And good riddance to the lot of you!

Sara, Georgie, are you trying to get me

in the hock with your uncle?

Get in here before you catch your death of cold!

Well, don't dawdle. Run!

Catch their death of colds...

Yeah.

Meekin, you served the master and missis, have you?

Yes.

Yes, Mrs Wickens.

Yes, Mrs Wickens.

Take those scraps to the children.

Yes, Mrs Wickens.

Shall I leave the windows open like you said?

It's very cold tonight.

Leave 'em open. It's good for 'em.

Too much comfort's bad for children.

Don't put no extra blankets on.

It's bad for 'em.

Yes.

Yes, Mrs Wickens!

Yes, Mrs Wickens.

You skinny slut!

Now, my love...

SHE SNIFFS

Ahh.

How's that consomme coming along?

There, Miss Sara. That'll keep you warm.

It's some warm newspapers.

DOOR OPENS

Quick, Tom. It's Meekin.

All right, then, good night, miss.

Good night, master Georgie.

Good night, Tom.

That's a wonder, you being in bed.

Here's your supper.

Good night. And leave that window open.

Mrs Wickens' orders.

Good night, then.

Good night, Tom.

DOG BARKS

'For a long time,

'we endured hard beds, scraps, and bread and water.

'We did not truly think ourselves in danger.

'Then, one night...'

MRS WICKENS: Time's a-wasting away!

It's taking too long,

Mr Wickens.

Getting fatter, not thinner.

Fatter, Wickens!

Do you hear me, you ugly lump?

Because I'm a-talking to you.

Wickens, do you hear me? HE SNORES

Good, because I'm talking to you.

They didn't get no colds.

Why? Why?

There was a blooming hurricane

blowing through here the other night.

They should be wasting away with a cold.

Aren't you interested in cash, you great lump?

Cash!

£30,000 if he snuffs it.

But it will be all our darling little Bella's

if that Georgie snuffs it.

Her as well -

that stuck-up Sara!

Her as well.

They mean us, Georgie.

What's "snuff it," Sara?

Do they mean to kill us?

< An accident must befall them.

< Can't wait forever.

An accident -

a quick accident, my love,

and you are going to help me.

Now, are you listening?

HE SNORES

Uncle Bertie - we must tell him at once!

Come on!

BELLA: Oh, you are a naughty boy.

BERTIE: And now the muse of love, my little sausage.

Uh, foot forward. Ha ha ha!

Lovely, my Bella. Lovely.

One more time, my little sausage.

Ha ha ha!

Lovely, my little precious one.

Oh, please, Uncle Bertie!

Get out! What are you doing? Get out of here!

Wandering about at this time -

we have no privacy.

We're to be murdered!

You certainly are, unless you go.

Shall I take a strap to you?

Mrs Wickens says that an accident should snuff us.

Bed, Sara.

- It's true! - It is!

Bed, both of you!

I'm not in the mood for drama tonight.

Your Auntie Bella

has been entertaining me

with classical moments from history.

You bring low drama.

Be off with you!

Bella, send them out, my love.

Yes, Bertie, my love.

How dare you talk like that about my ma and pa. Bed!

Please, uncle!

For the last time, Sara -

murders, indeed.

Imaginations - overactive imaginations.

Say your prayers

and ask God to forgive you!

(Sara?)

(Yes?)

(Perhaps we just imagined.)

(We didn't, Georgie.)

(I'm very much afraid we didn't.)

Listen.

"Langley Park."

Buckinghamshire.

Yes, I put that.

"April 16, 1818.

"Dear Mr Blunden, you are our only chance.

"The Wickenses will destroy us.

"Help. Uncle Bertie won't listen.

"He says it's all imagination, but it's not.

"We shall run away if you don't help.

"The danger is very great for us. Yours..."

"Sara."

And me.

Come along! Come along! Come along!

"Two children with childish complaints."

About your harsh treatment...

BELLS RING

And certain to run away.

They must not run away, Mrs Wickens.

Lock them up.

A beautiful job beautifully done, right, Wickens?

Uh-huh.

Ha ha ha!

(Sara!)

("Look in library?")

What does it mean, Georgie? What on earth is it?

(Come on.)

Come on where?

The library, of course, silly.

Sloppy Meekin didn't lock the door.

(Come on.)

(Where, Georgie?

(I mean, what are we looking for?)

(Don't ask me.)

(Just look, as it said.)

(Why has the library changed, Sara?)

(Has it been magic, Sara?)

(Shh, Georgie. Shh.)

("A charm to move the wheel of time.")

(A charm?)

(It's pleased, Georgie.)

The library is pleased.

"Bring and brew

"the following herbs together -

"balm, hazel, mugwort..."

Eew!

'"Musk, toadflax..."'

'Toadflax?'

'Yes. "Bergamot, Red William,

'"pennyworsel, spritford -

'"and drink the liquid.'

"It will separate your minds completely

"from the time you are in."

Do you understand that, Georgie?

A bit.

Perhaps this is our chance, Georgie. Look.

"To make the mind still, to escape from time."

There, Georgie - to escape.

Somebody's trying to tell us how to escape,

not to another place,

but to another time.

Oh, Georgie.

POUNDING

It might be poisonous, Georgie.

I've thought of that.

I'll put it in Mrs Wickens' gin

to see if she'll die.

Suppose she does die.

Good if she does.

But that'll be murder.

I'm not giving it her because it's poison.

I'm making sure it isn't.

Why are you pulling a funny face?

HE SNORES

DOOR OPENS

It's either Mrs Wickens or her cat

and that cat never did anyone any harm.

Breakfast, you brats!

Oh!

Sara?

Yes?

It wasn't poison.

Go with you back to your time?

Well, how can we?

You can brew the potion as we did.

It depends upon whether your will is great enough.

We won't let that old woman do you in.

Snuff us?

Snuff you. We'll help.

Sara, I don't feel well.

< Sara.

When you get back, I shall be there.

Sara...Sara...

Sara...

It's because he's so young.

He often returns before me.

We've always arrived back together.

Hurry. Georgie is a warning

that I may soon follow him.

Now, please don't forget.

Put five leaves of each into a bowl

and pour on hot water.

Keep it warm for an hour

and strain it off through a muslin cloth.

Bring the potion and meet me here at sunset tomorrow.

Promise you will not fail us, Jamie!

Promise!

Promise! Please promise!

I promise!

I promise, Sara!

Let us resolve that within us shall die

all the uncharitable thoughts, the corrosive indifference,

the acts of selfishness, the impurity of thought

that comes between us and the love of God.

In the name of the Father, the Son,

and the Holy Ghost, amen.

Shall we sing hymn number 292?

# Through the night, our heart and soul

# Onward calls the pilgrim land #

Mother, would you mind if Lucy and I left?

- No point in asking why? - No.

All right. Not too late back.

Lunch at 12.30.

# Clear before us through the darkness

# Gleams and burns the guiding light #

Lucy, I've just had a brilliant idea.

What?

Let's hunt in the churchyard.

- Why? - Sometimes you're really dim.

If none of the gravestones

say Sara and Georgie,

we'll know they didn't die.

We shall know in advance

that we've saved them.

We'll know everything will be OK.

I told you it was a brilliant idea.

MAN: Shh! Quiet, you children!

I don't like it, Jamie -

not one bit.

It's just not nice.

I'm not going to look.

Don't, then.

"William." No.

"Sara Catherine Latimer. George."

Lucy! Lucy, come here!

"Sara Catherine Latimer,

"George Richard Latimer,

died April 21st, 1818.

That's tomorrow, Lucy -

tomorrow, only 100 years ago.

That's right. It were 100 year ago.

Poor little things. It were a real tragedy.

Do you know who they were?

I could tell you about every blessed grave

in this churchyard.

I've been sexton here nigh on 40 year now.

Please, who were they?

A fire it were, while they were abed -

a furnace of a fire.

Started in the library.

The books burned like tinder,

and nobody could get to them because of the heat.

In the corner by here -

come along here with me,

and I'll show you this gravestone down here.

There. You see? No headstone.

Some say the gardener's son tried to save them -

a little lad. Don't know his name.

My grandfather told me when I was about your age

about this little lad.

He climbed the drainpipe to the bedroom window.

Somehow, the pipe gave way,

and he come plunging down and was killed.

And then there was the guardian -

an old gentleman, a lawyer.

Well, he was at the house that night.

Mr Blunden.

I know.

His carriage broke down,

and when he seen the flames,

he come riding back.

And when he seen that they were dead,

he took on real cruel.

"Too late, too late, too late," he kept saying,

and then he starts a-crying.

Some say he died of grief.

Others say he was

never quite right again,

and some claim to have seen his ghost

wandering about the old house -

Langley Park there -

and the ghosts of the two children.

Have people... well, I mean,

have people really seen them?

Indeed. For the last 100 years, they have.

It's haunted. You don't want to go anywhere near there.

It's haunted, all right.

Don't go near there.

We've got to.

You've got to? Why?

We live there.

I was only joshing. I made it all up, I did.

There's no such things as ghosts.

That depends entirely

on your point of view.

Well, there is ghosts, you see, because I've seen 'em now.

Make sure the top's on tight.

We don't want to make it all again.

We're late. Come on.

Sara!

Sara!

I thought you had changed your minds.

Where's Georgie?

He had a slight disagreement with Mrs Wickens.

She's locked him in the cellar.

Tom is guarding him. We can't be long.

I only drank a little of the potion.

Before anything else, we must tell you that...

James!

James, whatever it is, tell me.

Well, it was in the graveyard.

On the tombstone, we found your name and George's.

The sexton said it was a fire.

It's true. It was a fire.

Oh, Sara.

I know about the grave.

I've never told Georgie,

but I know.

But the date, Sara - it was 100 years ago tomorrow.

That's true. Blunden, remember? Camden Town.

Oh, yes.

We haven't much time, my dears.

Excuse me, sir, but are you dead, too?

Part of me, James.

I'm the dead part of Blunden.

The other part of me

wouldn't listen to Sara and Georgie's pleas -

the Blunden who failed them.

I have suffered for 100 years,

tormented by my own conscience.

Seems more like a thousand years.

I've been given the chance

to put right the terrible wrong I've done

and to bring my punishment to an end,

but first, I have to find someone to trust me,

to trust me with his life.

And lastly, I must go back

to undo the harm I've caused.

Mr Blunden, sir,

I'm the one who has to trust you.

That's why you brought us here to Langley Park

and came to Camden Town.

Yes. It's not an easy thing, I know, James,

but all will be revealed, my dears.

Tell me what to do.

That is not yet clear.

Whatever it may be, nothing shall harm you.

I promise that I shall guard you from all dangers,

however they may come.

I know I'm not worthy,

but it's our only hope -

Sara's, Georgie's, and mine.

Thank you.

Lucy, you must trust him, too.

I'll try. I really will.

Thank you.

It's time to go.

Go on.

Oh, Jamie.

Go on.

And a bit more.

James...

Jamie...Jamie....

Jamie....

Lucy.

It's working.

It's time to go.

MR BLUNDEN: Nothing shall harm you.

The sexton said it was a fire.

SARA: Promise you'll not fail us.

JAMIE: Go with you back to your time?

TOM: I see by the way you're dressed.

I see by the way you're dressed.

I see by the way you're dressed

you don't come from hereabouts.

Are you from America - the New World?

You could say we've come

from the New World.

They say it's a wonderful place.

Uh, yes, it is.

It is a terrible long journey.

It's one I plan to make.

Miss Sara's been teaching me

to read and write.

I'll go try my fortune.

There's a future in America

for a young man as can read and write.

Yes, Tom, yes. How's my brother?

He's safe,

but he's growing hungry.

MRS WICKENS: Sara! Sara!

Sara.

Sara!

Sara.

Where are you, you hussy?

Kissing and cuddling with that garden boy,

no doubt.

I know your game.

I'll face her.

I'm not afraid of her.

I'd die for you, Miss Sara.

Go quickly, for my sake.

Please!

Oh, all right.

Should we go, too?

No. Stay in the shadows.

Sara!

Sara!

HORSE WHINNIES

WHINNY

So there you are.

And all alone, I see.

Who was here with you,

one of them vulgar servants?

You've got no sense, miss,

and you've got no taste.

I came to speak to Georgie in the cellar.

You came to speak to him

in the cellar.

Where is the cellar, miss?

Under the kitchen, Mrs Wickens.

It's under the kitchen, Mrs Wickens.

What are you doing in the stable?

The cellar ain't here.

No, Mrs Wickens.

I was going to talk through the grating.

Well, it will be boarded up

in the morning.

Please let him out.

He's only a little boy.

Don't talk to me about that brat!

After what he said,

he might stay until Christmas

next year.

Me arm's gone mad.

Get back. Back!

What's that? Who did that?

I'll do it again.

You've got persons

aiding and abetting you?

It was me!

Last month it was Chinamen

coming out of the barn.

Now it's invisible beings

trying to grab my body.

Are we ghosts?

Yes.

She's too old and insensitive.

Who is?

Who's too blooming old?

To your room, miss!

Come on. Don't you dawdle.

Georgie stays where he is.

James.

What?

She didn't see us.

Mrs Wickens didn't see us.

We're ghosts. We really are.

Bloomin' Henry.

Mrs Wickens, you're hurting me.

I'll hurt you if I have my way.

Children have it too good.

Meekin! Meekin!

Yes?

Yes, Mrs Wickens.

Lock Miss Sara in her bedroom.

Yes, Mrs Wickens.

Yes, Mrs Wickens.

Mamma. Mamma. Mamma.

See my new pink silk?

Oh, Bella, you look a picture.

Do us a turn around, my thrush, my linnet.

Let your old ma see you.

Oh, Bella, you look a picture.

Wait till that Bertie

casts his eyes on you.

He'll go all in a heap.

Ain't it pretty, Sara Sue?

# Ain't it pretty, Sara Sue?

# Would it look the same on you?

# Ain't it pretty? #

Very pretty, Bella.

Yes, it is.

Thank you.

JAMIE: She looks like a pig.

Aah!

She's having one of her turns.

Can she see us?

She's got a child's mind. Perhaps she can.

BELLA: Aah!

Aah!

SHE CRIES

All around me - ghosts.

I can see through them - right through them.

Hush now, Bella. There ain't nobody there.

You haven't been in my gin, have you?

They're there. There.

Hear me, Bella.

I'll haunt you until you release

little Georgie from the cellar.

Let Georgie out.

Then perhaps they'll leave me alone.

Who will leave you alone, love?

There's nobody there.

Let Georgie go.

Don't overdo it.

What is going on?

I heard screaming.

Bella.

- Oh, Bertie. - Bella.

I was that scared.

Tell ma to let him out,

or they'll be after me again.

Let who out? Who's after you?

BERTIE: What's going on?

Mrs Wickens?

Master Georgie was very rude, sir -

Bertie, dear - very rude.

I put him in the cellar

to cool his blood off, sir.

Release him at once.

I will not have Bella distressed.

Fetch some smelling salts.

Yes, sir.

Why are you waiting?

Son-in-law, my dear,

how can I leave my baby like this?

My wife, mother-in-law,

is perfectly all right with me.

You do as I say.

Oh, if you shout,

I'll have a heart attack.

I'll have heart failure.

Oh! Oh, no! Oh!

I think I'm having it. I'm off.

You are off, Mrs Wickens.

Get up.

Your performance is not convincing.

Get up, I say,

and release Georgie instantly.

BERTIE: Go with her, Sara.

Now, my little sausage.

Who is after you?

We are.

Oh, my God.

Mamma. Mamma. Mamma. Mamma. Mamma. Mamma.

Mamma...mamma... mamma...

mamma...mamma...

mamma...

BERTIE, BELLA AND MR WICKENS: Mamma. Mamma. Mamma. Mamma. Mamma. Mamma.

What is all that noise downstairs?

They are having dinner.

Why don't we eavesdrop?

We might find out

what they're up to.

(Georgie, if you're coming with us,

(you have to be quiet. Promise?)

(Promise.)

They're finishing.

(There's Mr. Blunden.)

(It's all falling into shape.)

Time is running out.

Can't bear to think of it.

BELLA: Your nightingale will be sad

without you.

BERTIE: It will only be for a few days.

Mr Blunden thinks it advisable

I go with him to London.

Mr Blunden doesn't know

how sorry he will be.

Now, Georgie,

what shall we do with it?

It will save a great deal of time.

I must get money, my sausage.

Mr Blunden, sir,

Uncle Bertie won't feed us.

He doesn't care if we snuff it.

You are mischievous children.

Your uncle is a kind

and considerate guardian.

You should be more careful.

Mrs Wickens means to harm us.

I know she does. Don't leave.

Please listen to her.

Bertie, surely they cannot mean

to accuse dear mamma.

Of course not, dearest.

Your mother is splendid -

kind and considerate always.

Your mother is an old witch.

YELLING

I can't bear it. I can't bear it.

How dare you talk to me

like that?

I'll go. If Mr Blunden sees me,

he might remember what will happen.

How can he remember it?

He must remember something.

He brought us here.

There are two of you.

Two Mr Blundens.

Yes, James, there are two of us.

We're both the same man,

but he wouldn't know.

It was I who brought you.

But if I told him...

(He wouldn't see or hear you.)

(He's a shallow, insensitive man.)

It's very difficult, Mr Blunden.

We came to help you,

but there's little we can do.

It's not yet time.

(Everything must go on as before -

(for a while anyway - just as before.)

(Now, you must just wait

(and be patient.)

(Wait and be patient.)

(Wait and be patient.)

BERTIE: I'll return

when I've raised enough money

to keep us happy.

It's all occurring,

my dearest sausage.

Shall we go, Blunden?

Au revoir, my daughter

of a unique mother.

Now, Luce.

Sara.

Sara.

Sara.

Georgie.

We must find them.

I'm sure the time is now,

with Blunden leaving

and Sara inside the house.

(It will be soon, Lucy.)

Perhaps Mrs Wickens didn't put them in the cellar.

Perhaps they're in the nursery.

(Lucy!)

(I've just thought.)

(The nursery's over the library.)

(That's where the fire started.)

James, it is happening

like before.

Come on. Come on.

THUMP

FOOTSTEPS AND HUMMING

Quick, we'd better get out of sight.

Bella can see us.

# I'm a naughty girl

# And you're a naughty boy... #

BELLA: I'm doing this secretly,

out of the kindness of me heart.

Hurry up and drink it.

SARA: That's very kind.

LUCY: Get the key.

If we take it,

she'll tell her mother it's missing.

Follow her when she leaves

and see what she does.

SARA: Good night.

# I'm a naughty girl

# And you're a naughty boy

# It takes a naughty girl

# To make a naughty boy...

# And they make a naughty game #

Did they drink it all?

Yes, ma.

Cor, that hurts, ma!

I told them like you said -

I was doing it

out of the kindness of me heart.

I wanted them to get a good sleep.

They'll sleep all right.

There's my good little girl.

Don't want them to think

I'm getting soft.

Take this tray to the kitchen

and wash them mugs very hard -

very hard.

Don't want no sediment.

Wash them in boiling water.

Yes, ma. >

Do something, quick.

MUSIC PLAYS

I'll get into her room.

We need that key.

Come on.

MRS WICKENS: Oh, my God!

- No. - (Mr Wickens.)

(Bundles of wood.)

Lucy, the fire - he started it.

Oh, no! Come on.

Ha ha ha!

We have to separate.

I'll break down the nursery door.

You warn Tom.

His life depends on it.

STONES HIT WINDOW

Sara! Georgie!

Miss Sara - is she all right?

She's in the nursery.

Jamie's trying to break down the door.

Don't! You mustn't! You'll fall.

It isn't safe. You'll be killed.

Miss Sara's a person I'd gladly die for.

It will only make things worse.

Aah!

Aah!

Uh!

Please, Mr Wickens,

don't pull the drainpipe.

I know what will happen!

Uh!

JAMIE: Sara! Sara, are you all right?

BANGING

Sara. HE COUGHS

Sara.

Please don't be dead.

Sara. Wake up!

Aah!

Help! Sara!

Open the window, for pity's sake! Sara!

Open the window!

LUCY: Aah!

Aah!

LUCY: No! Tom!

I'm with them, Lucy. I'm here.

Where's Sara? Is she all right?

They're alive but won't wake up.

They've been drugged.

Oh. Oh!

Come on, Sara.

SHE COUGHS

WICKENS: Aah!

Aah!

I said I'd kill you. I will!

Aah!

I mean it!

COUGHING

WICKENS: Aah!

Miss, miss, this is no time for singing.

MRS WICKENS: Wickens!

You've gone too far!

Oh, Miss Arabella, please.

# Oh, I'm a naughty... #

Wickens!

James, I thought you'd never come!

I've got to go back. Look after Sara!

Come on.

Sara?

He's alive.

Where's Georgie? Is he there?

I'll go get him.

Tom. Lucy.

HORSE WHINNIES

GLASS SHATTERS

I would if I could.

I would, Georgie. I would!

James.

We will go together.

The fire won't touch you.

Now is the time.

Look straight ahead and don't be afraid.

I can't feel a thing. Nothing.

Look...

straight...

ahead!

Tom, where's Georgie?

Sara?

Sara?

HE COUGHS

'At last.

'At last.

'Thank you, my dears.'

Jamie! Georgie!

Mr Blunden, you promised to guard them. You promised!

Jamie!

Lucy!

Georgie, Georgie.

Oh, Georgie.

- Oh, Georgie. - Sara? Sara?

Georgie.

Jamie. JAMIE!

Jamie! Jamie!

Jamie!

Jamie, please. Jamie!

SHE CRIES

Please, Jamie, don't. Please don't!

Jamie!

Jamie.

Jamie.

Oh, you were too late, Mr Blunden.

You were always too late!

I won't go back without Jamie!

I will not go without Jamie.

I won't go without him.

I won't go without him.

I won't go without Jamie.

Jamie?

I won't go without Jamie.

I won't go!

I won't go without Jamie.

I won't go without Jamie.

...go back without Jamie.

Jamie.

Jamie?

Jamie!

Jamie!

Jamie!

Jamie!

Jamie?

Jamie!

Jamie! Jamie?

Oh!

Jamie? Jamie!

Jamie.

Jamie!

Jamie.

Our father... which art in heaven...

which art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in heaven.

Give us this day...

'I should have told them.

'James isn't dying. He's just lost in time.

'Gosh, I hope that's all.

'Just because Mr Blunden wasn't there,

'no-one will believe it.

'God doesn't want James to die. That would be silly.

'James is only lost in time, isn't he?'

Amen.

PRIEST: Almighty God, who,

through thine only begotten son, Jesus Christ,

hast overcome death and opened unto us

the gate of everlasting life,

we humbly beseech thee

that as by thy special grace preventing us,

thou dost put into our minds good desires.

So, by they continual help,

we may bring the same to good effect

through Jesus Christ our lord.

Suppose nothing has changed?

How can anything have changed?

Supposing Sara and Georgie's graves have gone?

Oh, I can't be as silly as that.

I can't really go wandering around

expecting to find a yawning hole

surrounded by a crowd of astonished villagers.

Ooh!

And yet, if it is all the same, what does it mean?

Did we dream it?

Where is James, then?

"Frederick Percival Blunden...

"gave his life to save the children in his care.

"April 21st, 1818."

Yesterday - 100 years ago.

Oh, we did it.

Jamie did it.

MRS ALLEN: Lucy!

Lucy! He's awake!

Jamie's awake!

He woke up, but I think he's confused.

He said, "I got held up," as if he'd been away.

Can I see him?

Yes, of course you can, darling.

Mummy, I do love you.

Are you all right?

Well, of course. Are you?

- Where have you been, then? - Been?

Yes, been, James. Where have you been?

You know very well.

Where have we been?

You've remembered, then?

Well, do you?

Lucy, did we? Did we?

Yes. I went to the churchyard,

and the graves have gone.

We did it! You did it.

You helped... a bit.

JAMIE: Clatterbuck.

Trouble. Camden Town, here we come.

It's OK I've had a letter, and it's private.

Hmm. Secrets.

Clatterbuck.

Charmed, indeed.

Have a good journey?

It's all very well for you.

You'll belong to someone again.

And what about us?

Where do we belong?

Cheerio, swans.

SPLASH

Where have you been?

Has he finished yet?

In the attic? No, I don't think so.

You know that blue vase?

Yes.

I nearly smashed it

when you were trying to get the keys,

and I couldn't do it.

Strange to think it was here all this time.

Probably here before Sara and Georgie.

Probably be here

long after we've left.

Probably.

Doesn't really seem fair.

MRS ALLEN: James! Lucy!

Come on.

What does he want?

I don't know. Looks pretty nervous, as usual.

Mr Clatterbuck, you know James and Lucy.

Hello again.

Well? When do we go?

Go?

Yes, go.

Back to Camden Town. When?

We don't have to.

Mr Blunden, for some unknown reason,

raised himself from his bed of mental misery,

hurled himself as best he could into the office,

and said,

"Get them papers

"on Sara and Tom's marriage."

I did as I was told,

him being the governor,

and here they are.

We are related to these people.

They were great-grandparents of daddy's.

Just over 100 years ago, they lived here

and then went to America.

Not over 100 years ago,

exactly 100 years ago.

"New York, America, 1825.

"Sara Latimer of Langley Park

"married a Thomas Mortimer,

"a gardener by trade."

Very infra dig.

Out of his class.

He's come to tell us

that we're the legal owners of the house.

We can stay!

Plus an allowance of £500 a year.

In perpetuity.

In what?

For your lifetime, Sonny Jim.

I won't go into all the legal logistics.

You wouldn't understand.

Step this way, if you please.

All will be revealed.

Sara. Tom!

I know.

Great-grandma Sara.

Great-grandpa Tom.

LUCY: Mr Blunden!

Mr Blunden. Mr Blunden.

Which one? Which one?

We three kings of Orient are, my dears.

Hooray! It's ours!

It's ours, Benjy.

It's really ours.

Oh!

JAMIE: It's ours!

SARA: It's ours! It's ours!

It's ours!

It's theirs!

It's ours!

It's theirs!

Oh!

Goodbye.

Bye-bye.

Benjy, say goodbye.

Go on.

Cheerio, then.

Oh. Goodbye, then.

Thank you very much.

Thank you very much.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Bye. Come again.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

Goodbye.

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