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1 How much further, Cadman?

About half an hour, ma'am.

A shame Mr Pillson's missing all this glorious scenery.

Oh, how tiresome.

I made it myself. Saw the pattern in the Ladies' Companion.

Diva, dear, what a very brave colour!

I almost mistook you for the pillar-box.

Good morning, Irene. What a beautiful picture,

all the skinned piggies in a row.

Or are they sheep?

Don't know. They all look the same with their clothes off.

Ha!

Ha(!)

Oh, Georgie, come estay!

You not cross with ickle Lucia?

I just wish you'd tell me where we're going.

You know I don't like surprises. Impossible to pack for.

Do you remember a woman who stayed at the Ambermere Arms one summer,

a Miss Mapp?

Vaguely...

'A busy little woman with lots of teeth.

'She talked about a place called Tilling,

'where she had a Queen Anne house.'

Why, what about her?

I need to escape Riseholme, Georgie, and her house will be my retreat.

Elizabeth!

Sweet Evie, how-de-do?

We're playing bridge at the rectory this afternoon.

I do hope you can pop in.

I'm preparing rather a daring surprise for us all.

~ Oh, you mean the redcurrant fool? ~ Ooh!

I happened to notice you go directly from procuring

over-ripe redcurrants at Twistevant's

into Mr Hopkins',

and as I knew you couldn't possibly be putting fish on top of fruit,

you were most probably buying ice, ergo iced redcurrant fool.

Such a clever way of using up damaged fruit.

~ You are quite ingenious. ~ Thank you.

Sadly, I can't attend,

as I'm expecting some rather important guests of my own

this afternoon but do have fun. Au reservoir!

Don't sulk, dear. I'll only be here for two months.

Dear Mrs Lucas!

No need for introductions, which makes everything so happy.

And Mr Pillson, too!

Miss Mapp.

Oh, Elizabeth, please!

Tea at once, Withers, in the garden.

When I got your telegram yesterday,

I clapped my hands with joy

at the thought of having such a tenant as Mrs Lucas of Riseholme.

Now let me show you round.

(Try to put on a brave face for me, Georgie.)

Hmph.

Telephone room, which looks out onto our quaint little high street.

Library.

Simulacra.

The dining room.

Lots of lovely light.

The garden room.

Hmm?

My sweet rainbow of piggies.

~ Hello, piggies! ~ (They'll have to go.)

~ Sorry? ~ Oh, I love them so.

The terms would include the use of the piano,

a Blumenfeld, as I'm sure you're aware.

Antique.

Roses. The euphorbias in the bed over there.

Rather a nice clematis.

It's enchanting.

I don't know how you can flit off to Tilling for the summer,

leave me in Riseholme with nothing but my croquet and my bibelots.

It isn't fair.

And if you'd like to follow me through here...

.. my little secret garden.

Very modest, as you can see, but so well beloved.

Georgie, how divine.

Un giardino segreto. Molto bello!

Oh! How lovely to be able to speak little scraps of Italian like that.

Giardino segreto, was it?

I must remember that.

My husband and I...

Well, my late... husband and I

used to often address each other using la bella lingua.

Isn't that right, Georgie?

Yes.

Which is why I wanted to get away from Riseholme for a short while.

Such painful memories.

Oh, well, I am so sorry to hear that.

Your husband, I mean, not the Italian.

It must have been a very trying few days...

Weeks?

A year, Miss Mapp.

A year of uncompromising mourning.

A whole year?

Gosh!

An old spinster like me can barely guess at the depths of such passion.

Maybe one day...

Anyhow, if I could just scriggle through...

.. we'll take a peep at the bedrooms.

~ Oh! I saw a head. ~ Where?

~ Maid's room. ~ They must be serious if they're thinking about staff.

I wonder if they're married...

Will ye hold yer wheesht, woman?

~ 'Tis naebody's business but their own. ~ But I only meant...

Whit starts a thread soon ends a rope. Think on.

Well, I'm sorry, Padre, but I need to know.

I can't take Irene's house for the summer

unless Elizabeth takes mine,

and Irene can't take the labourer's cottage,

~ and the labourer can't take the shanty on the beach! ~ Ripples.

Exactly! Thank you, Irene. Ripples.

And Mrs whoever-she-is, she's the stone.

Little daubs of my own.

I should sink into the ground with shame should you look at them,

Mr Pillson, for I remember what a great artist you are yourself.

Miss Coles.

~ Major. ~ Uh, Padre! Missed you at the links this morning, old man.

~ What news? ~ 'Tis the new summer tenants for Mallards, Major.

A laddie and lassie from yon Riseholme, we believe.

Ah, new blood, what?

Just what we chaps need here in Tilling - reinforcements, eh, Padre?

They're coming!

She's got one on each arm and the car following behind like a funeral.

~ Do you think they've taken it? ~ No idea.

They're staying the night at the Trader's Arms.

~ Mrs Lucas, Mr Pillson, not married. ~ Ooh!

Hmm. Wonder if the fellow's an Army type.

~ I wouldn't get your hopes up, Major. ~ Hmm.

Is that a boy or a girl? It's so difficult to tell.

Quaint Irene, Irene Coles,

the disgrace of Tilling.

She paints strange pictures of men and women with no clothes on.

But you will find Tilling more than accepting of

~ a touch of unconventionality. ~ Yes, we find in Riseholme that...

Good afternoon, Diva, dear!

Diva Plaistow, christened Godiva, would you believe.

Such a handicap, but we're all devoted to her.

Good afternoon.

Always follows the latest fashions.

One can only hope that one day she may catch up with them.

Padre and his wife Evie -

both very good bridge players.

Do you play bridge, Mrs Lucas?

~ Well, I... ~ Plenty of that in Tilling.

Oh, here's Major Benjy, back from the links.

Do pop in later, Major, tell me about your game.

Ladies.

He served in India for many years.

Hindustani is quite his second language -

calls "quai-hi" when he wants his breakfast.

Looks like you'll all have to make room for two more

under Queen Mapp's pudgy little thumb.

~ Was that a cape he was wearing? ~ A black dress.

~ A widow's weeds. ~ How thrilling.

Damned popinjay, if you ask me.

I wonder if they're moving in together.

~ Ooh! ~ We shall have to wait and see, Mistress Plaistow.

They're the property of Elizabeth Mapp the noo.

Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?

Yes, I believe you have rooms reserved for Mr Pillson

and Mrs Lucas.

That's right.

One double room for tonight, is that correct, sir?

Double room?

Yes, sir. A nice big queen-size bed.

Anything wrong, sir?

I think there's been a misunderstanding.

Una bella vista.

Indeed. And what a view.

One almost wishes one could charge extra for it.

Well, it would be worth every penny.

Which brings us on to the rather delicate subject...

15 guineas a week.

15? I thought the Times had it as 12.

A misprint.

Such carelessness. I've been assured heads will roll.

Of course that would not include the wages of my gardener Coplen -

such a hard worker - or any garden produce.

Flowers for the house, by all means, but no fruit or vegetables.

How kind.

Well, if those are the terms, then I am satisfied.

~ Excellent. ~ And where, may I ask,

will you be spending the summer yourself, Miss Mapp?

Italy, perhaps, or France?

Oh, goodness me, no!

No, I shall be staying here, in Tilling.

I see.

I have agreed to take Diva's house - Wasters - for the summer.

A charming little cottage, though rather gloomy,

then Diva will take Irene's,

and Irene makes her own arrangements.

No true Tillingite is ever really happy away from her own town,

Mrs Lucas, and this way we all get the benefit of a change of scene

without going to a lot of unnecessary expense.

And you all make a little bit of profit on the side.

How quaint.

Ah!

Ah, Georgie! Everything settled?

Yes, yes. Two rooms - one for each of us.

Well, I will, as they say, love you and leave you.

Good afternoon, Mrs Lucas.

Mr Pillson...

Or, as we say here in Tilling,

au reservoir!

She's stolen your "reservoir".

She heard it in Riseholme and smuggled it into Tilling!

I fear that's not all she has stolen, Georgie.

Come, let us unpack and take supper.

~ We have much to discuss. ~ Yes!

Beautiful light.

Yes, charming.

Dr Dobbie! Dr Dobbie, please come quick!

My canary's having a fit!

Quai-hi!

Quai-hi, damn you!

♪ Will ye no' come back again?

♪ Will ye no' come back again?

♪ Better loved ye cannae be... ♪

Oh, it's entrancing.

They're all being so themselves, and so human and busy.

Must just rest here for a moment.

That's quite a walk you've taken me on, Georgie.

~ Oh, Lucia, look! ~ Hmm?

The house next door to yours is for rent too.

Oh, yes, so it is.

Looks charming.

I'd be tempted to take it

if I could get it for the months when you are here.

Oh, what a delicious idea! Are you really thinking of it?

Why not?

Riseholme will be as dull as ditchwater without you there.

Oh, heaven for me to have a friend here

instead of being planted amongst strangers.

We must pay a visit to the estate agent first thing in the morning.

Remember the name, Georgie. Woolgar & Pipstow.

Woolgar & Pipstow, Woolgar & Pipstow.

How exciting. Woolgar & Pipstow.

~ I hope it isn't taken. ~ Oh, I hope not.

Woolgar & Pipstow, Woolgar & Pipstow.

~ Oh, what a summer we can have together, Georgie. ~ Oh, yes.

Woggles & Pickstick, was it? No...

Woolworth & Poppit?

Hmm.

Woolgar & Pipstow.

Yes, Woolgar & Pipstow.

Georgie?

Georgie, it's me.

May I come in?

Lucia very cold next door.

Is there room with you for snuggles?

Good morning, Georgie.

Did you sleep well?

Yes, yes, like a baby. And you?

Not a wink.

Oh, dear.

Delicious, isn't it,

to think of the new interchange of experience which awaits us here?

Riseholme is in a rut, Georgie.

We're in a rut and we want, both of us, to get out of it.

Yes. Yes, a change is as good as a rest, and all that,

but we can still enjoy our sewing and our music

and our painting, can't we... as friends?

Of course, dear.

That's why I brought you with me.

I'd hoped you'd fall in love with Tilling as I had done

and we can summer here together.

Yes... as friends.

You are my rock, Georgie, and always will be.

Now, let us find that house agent. Did you remember the name?

Wimsey & Pippin, wasn't it?

No, wasn't it Williams & something? I had it last night...

~ And how many grapefruits do you have? ~ About half a dozen?

I'll take the lot. Hollywood diet. I'm starting tomorrow.

And some pepper for my canary, please.

~ He's got the pip. ~ Right-o.

~ Oh! Porpoise Street! ~ That's the dentist's.

Maybe she's got toothache?

Else they're paying their respects to Mr and Mrs Wyse.

So sorry to keep you waiting.

Figgis thought that I was in the garden

but I was in my boudoir all the time. Susan Wyse.

~ Charmed. ~ Do sit down.

You must excuse my deshabille, just my shopping frock.

You wish to discuss Mallards Cottage, Mr Pillson?

Yes. The house agent told us it belonged to your daughter,

but she can't be contacted.

Oh, dear Isabel, out in the sand dunes all morning.

"What if a tramp came along?" I say to her, but no use.

She calls it the Browning Society

and she must not miss a meeting.

How amusing.

Browning, not the poet, but the action of the sun.

Oh, and here's Mr Wyse.

Algernon, Mrs Lucas and Mr Pillson.

Mr Pillson wishes to take Mallards Cottage.

From your beautiful Riseholme, I understand.

News travels fast.

And we are all encouraging ourselves to hope that the charm

of our picturesque little Tilling might for two months at least

give Susan and myself the inestimable pleasure

of being your neighbours.

Oh, but the pleasure's all mine, Mr Wyse.

Yes. Well, we have to leave soon, so I was rather hoping...

Yes, Algernon, tell Figgis to bring the Royce to the door.

The street is steep, Mrs Lucas,

and the cobbles most unpleasant to walk on.

Oh! So like the servants to leave this lying about!

Oh, an Order of some sort?

Member of the British Empire,

graciously bestowed upon myself for services to the Tilling hospital.

The servants are under strict instructions to keep the box closed,

but they seem proud of it and like to show it off.

~ Congratulations. ~ Oh, not worth mentioning.

Oh, that will be the Royce.

A warm morning, is it not?

I don't think I shall need my furs.

Drive on, Ghashley.

There, now.

Dear Mrs Lucas, I just popped across to see if you would not take

an early lunch with me before returning to your lovely Riseholme.

Oh, so kind, but Mrs Wyse has just asked us to lunch with her.

I see.

What a pity.

I had hoped but... there it is.

Sweet Susan!

Elizabeth.

I should scold you for stealing away my tenant like that...

and Mr Wyse too. How-de-do?

De-do.

~ Having an early luncheon, I gather? ~ Quite so.

Well, I should just toddle on and fill my basket

with provisions for one.

Have a safe journey back to Riseholme, Mrs Lucas, Mr Pillson.

And as we say here in Tilling, au...

Au reservoir.

Ah!

Shall we?

Extraordinary, her face when I said we were dining with Mrs Wyse.

Like she wanted to bite or scratch her.

As if Mrs Wyse had pocketed something of hers.

I think she means to run me, Georgie.

I believe Tilling is seething with intrigue, but we shall see.

We shall see.

Poor Susan.

Ever since she married Mr Wyse, she's become quite the snob.

The fur coat, the extravagant fundraising.

I think there is quite an air of desperation about her,

wouldn't you agree?

None of my business, I'm sure, Miss Elizabeth.

But the ladies of Tilling do have a pretty sharp eye

for each other's failings, that's for sure.

Funny little fairies!

Oh, no offence.

I must be sure to offer Mrs Lucas my protection

against the undesirable elements of Tilling society.

It would be such a tragedy

if she were to form a misleading impression

of our happy little community.

I wonder, Major, might I offer you a whisky and soda?

I shan't be shocked.

Ah, well! Deuced warm day, what?

Why not? Capital.

Yes, I'm not sure our dear friends realise that poor Mrs Lucas

is still in mourning for her late husband.

She made it quite clear to me that on her return

she did not wish to be called upon...

.. or invited to luncheons hither and thither.

Of course, I didn't say anything

because there's nothing that Tilling detests

more than any hint of, shall we say, superiority.

But it might be kind if word did get round...

What?

Oh, yes, quite so, quite so.

Mrs Lucas, solitary confinement.

The King... God bless him.

Mrs Plaidstow.

Major.

Enjoy.

Oh, no.

There!

Don't, Kenneth! No, she doesn't want a fuss.

She's grieving, remember. Ooh!

Well, she disnae hide her light under a bushel, that's for sure.

Everything all right, Georgie?

Yes, yes, I just want to make sure Foljambe's happy.

Well, why wouldn't she be?

The maid's room is very spacious.

Foljambe's more than a maid, Lucia, you know that.

That's like saying your Royal Doulton's just a plate.

It IS a plate.

You know what I mean.

Well, Foljambe?

~ Very nice, sir. ~ It'll do?

It'll more than do, sir.

I think we shall have a very pleasant summer here.

Very pleasant indeed.

~ Thank you. ~ Everyone happy, Georgie?

~ Yes. ~ Foljambe's pleased with it? ~ She loves it.

Well, she can't be that much of a recluse

if she's allowing herself to be photographed.

An Elizabethan fete. Verily, that's quite an undertaking.

Hmm, she was Good Queen Bess, apparently,

and the Pillson chap was Drake, if you can imagine such a thing.

Not much of a hand against the Spaniards, I should think.

Tea parties with a load of old cats more his line.

Imagine if Tilling were in the newspapers.

Oh, that would be awful, wouldn't it?

~ Unbearable. ~ Good morning!

~ Mrs Lucas. ~ My first ever morning shop.

Quite a Tilling tradition, I gather.

Er... Anything of interest in the newspapers today?

We shall have fog by teatime.

Good day.

I see you have another fine day for your...

.. golf.

Mr Pillson, please forgive my unwarrantable rudeness.

I merely meant to take a peep at your delightful sketch

~ and then to steal away. ~ No, that's quite all right.

I'm struggling with the perspective, actually.

It's so tiresome when you mean to make a path go uphill

and it goes downhill instead.

Not a bit of it.

Da Vinci himself could not have captured the scene more faithfully.

Oh, thank you.

I'm going to give it to Miss Mapp as a gift.

A little thank-you for introducing Lucia and me to Tilling.

Then I will leave you to your masterpiece and bid you good day...

~ Oh! ~ .. for I know how closely Mrs Lucas and yourself

value your privacy.

~ Au reservoir. ~ Oh, yes. Yes, but that's not what...

Thank you.

Very strange.

.. chair inside the door. And mind that floor - there's a rug.

~ Oh, don't mind me. ~ Can I help you, Miss?

Just popped in to fetch a thimble that I left behind.

I'll just scriggle through here.

Oh, goodness me, that looks like heavy work.

No need to follow me.

I know precisely where it is. Not scraping any walls, I hope.

No, Miss, no.

She's shunted the Blumenfeld into the telephone room

and she's hired a new piano from Brighton.

No! Think of the expense!

I can only assume that dear Mama's instrument

was not quite good enough for her.

Unbelievable extravagance.

Oh, Grosvenor, you quite startled me.

I just popped into the kitchen

to retrieve this little screwdriver - so useful!

Quantities of tinned goods from Fortnum & Mason

~ and Darjeeling tea imported direct from India. ~ No!

Rather ostentatious, not quite the Tilling way,

but we mustn't pass judgment... dear Evie...

.. not yet.

Oh, you dear thief!

What about garden produce?

I beg your pardon?

It's just my little joke, Lulu, darling.

You may eat every fig in my garden

and I wish there were more!

My hot-water bottle, such a comfort.

She'd practically stripped the entire tree of figs,

despite of the terms of her tenancy,

and I just stood by in absolute silence.

~ Couldn't say a word. ~ Ohh.

Oh, bad luck.

Ah, Coplen, I'd like you to cut the lawn today,

it's got dreadfully long.

Very sorry, ma'am, I don't think I can find the time.

Miss Mapp has asked me to manure the strawberry beds today.

But what has Miss Mapp got to do with it?

You're in my employment now.

But my orders are to go to Miss Mapp every morning

and she tells me what she wants done.

In future, I'd like you to come to me every morning

and ask me what I would like done.

No strawberry beds will be manured

until the garden looks less like a tramp that hasn't shaved for a week.

Yes, ma'am.

No strawberries, Mrs Lucas's orders, Elizabeth furious.

Oh, dear!

Ha! Well, I, for one, adore her already.

Let battle commence!

May I pop in, dear?

So sorry to interrupt your sweet music

but my Coplen has just come to me in great perplexity.

What SEEMS to be the problem?

A little misunderstanding, no doubt.

Coplen is not clever.

I said I would come to see you and make it all right.

Nothing easier, dear.

He didn't quite grasp, I think,

that he is in my employment.

Naturally, I reminded him of it.

He understands now, I hope?

But my garden produce, Lulu, dear!

It is not much use to me if my beautiful pears are left

to rot on the trees until the wasps eat them.

No doubt that is so, but Coplen, whose wages I pay,

is of no use to me if he spends his entire time

looking after your garden produce.

So, that's settled.

Lulu, anything would be better than that

I should have a misunderstanding with such a dear as you.

I won't argue.

I won't put my point of view at all.

I yield.

There!

If you CAN spare Coplen for an hour in the morning

to take my little fruits and vegetables to the greengrocer's...

Quite impossible, I'm afraid, dear.

Coplen has been neglecting the flower garden dreadfully,

so you'll have to find somebody else.

Oh, precious one, it shall be just as you wish.

And I must run away.

Au reservoir!

Mr Pillson's here, ma'am.

Show him into the dining room Grosvenor... slowly.

Oh, yes.

Things are beginning to move, Georgie.

Night marches. Manoeuvres.

Elizabeth, as I suspected, wishes to run me. And if she can't... ha!

~ If?! ~ If she can't, she'll try to fight me.

I see glimpses of malice in her.

So you'll fight her?

Of course not, dear. What do you take me for?

I positively hate that kind of thing.

As if it matters who takes the lead. No, no, no. I shan't fight.

But every now and then, when I deem it absolutely necessary,

I might have to give her one or two hard slaps.

I won't have her walking into my house without ringing,

~ so I told Grosvenor to put up a chain. ~ No!

Mm-hm, and she calls me Lulu, which makes me feel sick.

Nobody has ever called me Lulu and they shan't begin now.

And what about the others?

I've found them all cold and a little stand-offish.

I have no doubt that a campaign has been waged -

divide and rule -

so I'm going to ask Diva and the major to dinner tomorrow night.

You'll come too, of course.

'Chocolates for her, curry for him.

'We'll play bridge and let the major lay down the law.

'Then, the following evening, I shall ask the Wyses

'and talk about fundraising and MBEs.

'Then the Bartletts and Irene for Scotch and art.'

It's new in Tilling, I find, to give little dinners -

tea being the usual entertainment -

so I won't ask Elizabeth for at least a week.

But, my dear, isn't that war?

Not at all. It's benevolent neutrality.

We'll soon see if she learns any sense.

And now, Georgie, un po di musica.

Let us spend an hour with Mozart

and repel all thoughts of discord.

The new duet came this morning.

I haven't had a chance to look at it yet.

~ Oh! ~ Oh! Seems awfully difficult.

~ Me fwightened. ~ Georgie fwightened too.

Looks dwefful diffy.

Naughty Mozart!

You must be patient with me, caro, you know how badly I sight-read.

Uno, due, tre...

Well...?

Well, what, dear?

Mrs Lucas.

Dinner.

Yes. It's about time Tilling started doing dinners, Algernon agrees.

We accepted, of course.

Accepted what?

What are you all talking about?

I shouldn't really, but as you've gone to all this trouble...

Your very good health, Mrs Lucas.

And yours, Major.

Your health.

And did you speak to the Queen?

Indeed I did.

She turned to me and said, "So pleased."

And what she put into those two words

I'm sure I can never convey to you.

Fascinating.

"Aye," he says, "but when petticoats woo, breeks may come speed."

And now, Mrs Lucas, if I may, a toast to absent friends.

Absent friends.

Nice figs. From the garden?

Yes, dear, via Twistevant's of course. Such a quaint name.

No bid.

But doesn't Elizabeth give you garden produce?

No, just flowers for the house, nothing more.

But I fully understood...

At least I...

Well, I thought that...

Well, well, who gives a fig, eh, Pillson, what?

The major's correct, as always.

We must not let fruit come between friends.

But it's not fair!

She's got my house, with garden produce thrown in,

for eight guineas a week

and she lets out her own, without garden produce, for 12.

No, dear, I pay 15.

But it's down in Woolgar's books at 12, I saw it myself!

Dear Elizabeth.

So glad she was sharp enough to get a few more guineas.

Yes... Damn!

We read with interest about your Elizabethan fete at Riseholme.

A great success, I understand?

Lucia was marvellous. Organised the whole thing single-handed.

No bid.

We so much want somebody at Tilling who can carry through

schemes like that.

The hospital, for instance, is always in need of funds.

~ Oh? ~ No bid.

Perhaps a garden fete would be simple to organise.

We could have it in the garden here, half a crown admission,

some tableaux vivants...

I was trying to summon my courage to suggest exactly that.

The use of Mallards' garden has never previously been

allowed for such a purpose. We've often lamented it.

You should form a committee, Padre, along with Mrs Wyse,

who really thought of the idea.

And with yourself, that'll make three.

Well, that's enough for any committee

that's going to do its work without any argle-bargle.

The major could read from his Indian diaries

and Irene knows all manner of amusing verses!

The boy stood on the burning deck

The deck was made of brass

He did a double somersault

And landed on his...

Ace of diamonds. Thank you, Irene.

We could recreate Elizabeth and Drake from the fete at Riseholme.

And if Miss Mapp would supply the refreshment booth

with fruit from her garden here, that would be a great help.

Oh, how you all work me!

And to think I'd planned a little holiday in Tilling.

~ We must start work in earnest tomorrow. ~ Capital!

Most agreeable evening of bridge I've ever spent in this room,

eh, Mrs Plaistow?

Oh, I'll say. Makes a pleasant change.

Oh, I'm exhausted.

I hate pretending to lose at bridge every night, it's so tiresome!

But how happy it made them, Georgie!

And what are a few pennies and a little pride

if we can bring joy to others?

I wonder if you're wise to join the committee, though.

~ It might seem... ~ Hmm, I know what you mean... Grabby. ~ Hmm.

No, you're right.

I shall drop a line to the padre in the morning saying

I'm really too busy and beg him to ask Elizabeth instead.

In the light, in the light.

~ Ready? ~ Hmm.

It's beautiful.

Well, thank you, Foljambe.

I chose the frame myself.

I thought it accentuated the architecture rather nicely.

~ I wouldn't know about that, sir. ~ Ahh.

Well, could you wrap it up in your special way

with the little bow on top

and send it to Miss Mapp at Wasters Cottage, please?

~ It's a peace offering. ~ Very good, sir.

Dear Rev Bartlett, I'm afraid I must resign

from the fundraising committee...

May I come in, dear?

Certainly.

Sweet Lulu...

.. first I... I must apologise so humbly.

Such a stupid accident. I tried to open your front door just now

and I gave it a teeny little push,

and your servants had forgotten to take the chain down.

I'm afraid I broke something.

The hasp must have been rusty.

But didn't Grosvenor open the door when you rang?

Well, that's just what I forgot to do, dear.

I thought I would just pop in to see you without troubling Grosvenor.

You and I such friends,

and so hard to remember that my little Mallards...

Several things to talk about...

But first, let us see what damage you've done.

Any sign of rust, Grosvenor?

No, madam.

No?

So sorry, dear Lulu,

I had no idea the chain would be up.

We all leave our doors on the latch in Tilling -

~ it's quite a habit. ~ Yes, I always used to in Riseholme.

Let us go through to the garden room

and you can tell me what you came to talk about.

Yes, several things...

Firstly, I'm collecting for a little jumble sale for the hospital...

and I wanted to look out some old curtains and rugs

from the cupboard in the spare room.

May I just pop upstairs and poke about a bit to find them?

By all means. Grosvenor will go round with you

~ as soon as she's back from the ironmonger's. ~ Thank you, dear,

but there's no need to trouble Grosvenor.

Then, another thing,

I have heard a little gossip in the town

about a fete which it is proposed to give in my garden.

I feel sure it is mere tittle-tattle

but I thought it better to come here

to know from you that there is no foundation for it.

But I hope there is a great deal.

Some tableaux, some singing -

in order to raise funds for the hospital -

and it would be so kind if you could supply

the fruit for the refreshment booth from your garden.

That would be difficult, darling Lulu.

I have contracted all my garden produce to Twistevant's.

The fruit is no longer mine.

Perhaps then you could let us have some fruit from Diva's garden,

unless you've sold that also?

The fete, dear one, is what I MUST speak about.

I cannot permit it to happen in my garden.

The rag-tag and bobtail of Tilling passing through my hall,

all my carpets soiled and my flower beds trampled on,

and how do I know that they will not steal upstairs

and filch what they can find?

Oh, there'll be no admission to the rooms in the house -

I'll lock all the doors -

and I'm sure that nobody in Tilling would be so ill-bred

as to attempt to force them open.

I will not have my little home sanctuary invaded!

As long as I am tenant here, I will see whom I please and when I please.

Or do you wish me to send you a list of the friends

I invite to dinner for your sanction?

But my dear Lulu...

I must beg you not to call me Lulu, a detestable abbreviation.

Yes, Grosvenor, what is it?

The ironmonger's here, ma'am,

and he says he will have to put in some rather large screws...

Whatever is necessary to make the door safe.

Now, Miss Mapp would like to look in the cupboards upstairs

and take some of her own things away.

Please go with her and give her EVERY facility.

Yes, ma'am.

It's this way, Miss.

I'm aware of that, Grosvenor, thank you.

Ah!

Ohh, Withers!

Withers!

Miss Elizabeth, may I offer you some assistance?

No, that's quite all right Major, I can... I can manage.

Allow me, please.

Everything all right, old girl?

Yes. It's just been a... a trying morning, that's all.

Well, a lot of lovely jumble for your sale, what?

Make a pretty penny for the hospital, I'll be bound.

It's junk, Major.

Broken and sullied items that people have no earthly use for

but cannot bear to throw away.

Perfect jumble-sale fodder.

Thank you, Tilling.

Well...

I'll leave you to your fairy business.

Au reservoir.

Could I draw your attention to the sixpenny tray,

would you might have missed? It's just in the corner there.

Ahh, from the house of Major Flint.

He could hardly bear to part with it, poor soul,

but it's such a good cause and so dear to my own heart.

Elizabeth!

Really!

You never told me you were holding the jumble sale here, in my house!

Really, dear?

Well, I don't see what business it is of yours.

As long as I am tenant here, I shall do what I please WHEN I please.

Or do you wish me to send you a list of the people

I invite in for your sanction?!

Yes, dear?

Morning, Withers.

That's ninepence for the hearth brush,

threepence each for the curtain rings

and this little picture from the sixpenny tray,

that makes just two shillings.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you.

The frame alone cost...

Good morning, one and all!

How-de-do? How-de-do?

I'm just on my way to the hospital

with the takings from yesterday's sale.

Fundraising for the hospital? Whatever gave you that idea(?)

Well, one doesn't like to crow about one's charitable works,

but as I was remarking to sweet Susan,

one must all do one's bit to help those less fortunate than ourselves.

Well, I hear it was a grand success.

Yes, not a thing left.

Mmm, some excellent bargains to be had, we're told.

Works of art going cheap.

Yes, well, one man's jumble is another man's jewel.

You're looking especially quaint today, Irene dear,

what's the occasion?

Lucia's fete, Mapp dear, as you well know.

Goodness me. Is that today? It had completely slipped my mind.

Well, tell Lulu I may pop across if I can.

Such a busy day - the hospital and getting the house ship-shape again -

but I will try and SQUEEZE it in.

No promises, mind.

Au reservoir!

Ooh!

God forgive me for saying this,

~ but that woman tests my faith sometimes, she really does. ~ Kenneth!

I'm so sorry, Mr Pillson,

he doesn't often drop his Scotch.

You didn't really think he was Scottish, did you?

With that ridiculous accent?

~ I-I just assumed... ~ He puts it on for effect.

Better to gie it laldy in the pulpit!

We all have our little affectations in Tilling, Georgie.

Come on, Sailor...

make me a cocktail and I'll show you my hornpipe.

Offer I can't refuse.

Right, I'm off.

Will I see you at Mallards for the party, Miss?

No, Withers, never.

Never, never, never, never.

Here we are, Grosvenor. Half... half a crown, is it?

That's right, Miss.

It's quite discombobulating to have to

pay for admittance to one's own home.

~ It's all for a good cause, Miss. ~ Yes...

Hello. Thank you.

Diva, dear!

A few gooseberries for you...

from your garden,

with my compliments.

Thank you, Elizabeth. Most generous.

Susan, dear!

Admiring my delphiniums?

I must give you some seed.

Thank you, dear.

I was just telling Algernon that that corner there was made,

may I say, for fuchsias.

Ah, dear, you will have to forgive me, I can not bear fuchsias.

They always remind me of over-dressed women.

Such a lovely day for it.

~ How those half crowns must be rolling in. ~ Indeed.

Just mind the lawn.

So pleased to see you all sitting on my lawn and enjoying your tea.

Excuse me, Miss, could you...?

Ta. And you are?

Elizabeth Mapp, Miss...

.. and this is my humble abode.

Look at her...

swanning round like she owns the place.

She does own the place.

You know what I mean.

She wants everyone to think the fete is her idea.

Not fair.

(Where's Lucia?)

(She should be here to put Elizabeth in her place.)

Jolly good turnout, what?

Very pleased.

Ought I to say a few words, do you think?

I feel Tilling would think it very remiss of me if I didn't.

Well, I, um...

Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye!

Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding for our gracious Queen...

Elizabeth!

Excuse me.

My loving people,

we have been persuaded by some who are careful of our safety

to take heed how we commit our selves to armed multitudes

for fear of treachery...

But I assure you

I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people.

Let tyrants fear...

.. for I have come here at this time,

not for my recreation or disport, but for my resolve,

in the midst and heat of battle,

to live and die amongst you all...

I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman,

but I have the heart and stomach of a king!

Spectacular!

And we shall have a famous victory over those enemies of my God,

of my kingdom and of my people.

The queen is dead - long live the queen!

MUSIC: Zadoc The Priest by Handel

Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!

~ I used to play with my sisters. ~ Eh? ~ Golf.

~ Wah! ~ Oh! ~ There has been some hanky-panky.

~ Do you wish to have the body of a younger man? ~ Yes, please.

Ah...

Tiptree, you naughty dog!

~ You... ~ Shall we call it a score draw, dear?