All language subtitles for Sister.Boniface.Mysteries.S03E00.Once.Upon.a.Time.WEB-DL.CATCHPLAY_HI.en

(pensive music playing)

(narrator) "Once upon a time,
there was a beautiful princess

with hair as golden as the sun".

"Her father told her
if she was virtuous and pure,

then one day she would marry
a handsome prince".

Right. (sighs)
Before we get to business,

felicitations are in order
to our chairman,

Aubrey Frobisher
and his new bride, Bunny,

on their recent, well, dare I say,

- whirlwind nuptials.
- (laughs)

(Aubrey) I managed to persuade her
to join our humble troupe.

- She was an actress, you know.
- Hm.

Yeah, well, I gave up
treading the boards

when I met Aubrey.
We just couldn't stand to be apart.

- Theatre's loss was our gain.
- Oh, sweet man.

I would be happy to add a touch
of professional stardust

- into your little pantomime.
- (chuckles, groans)

Er, well, erm...

Four weeks to our opening night
on the 23rd of December,

so we have got our work cut out.

First and foremost,
the appointment of a director.

(Aubrey) Ah, now,
although this is a break

from tradition, I would like

to propose the appointment
of a guest director.

Now, you may know
that... that Jonas Blake

has recently taken up residence
in Great Slaughter.

He... he was writing nearby
and came to see Aubrey

- for some investment advice.
- Hmm.

- Who is Jonas Blake?
- (sighs)

Only the hottest playwright
in town.

He penned Sir Laurence Olivier's
new hit play

at the National Theatre.

(Aubrey) Yeah, a splendid chap,
despite being an Australian.

He's keen to get involved
in the community.

Er, when he heard
about the pantomime,

he offered to sharpen our script

and offered his services
as director.

Well, I rather think

I've proved my director's mettle
in my...

In the critic's words,
"triumphant rendering",

of Three Men in a Boat.

- Robbie.
- (hesitates) A directorial feat.

(Lowsley) Well, undoubtedly, er,
a triumph, Samira,

- but this is enormous.
- Hmm, hmm.

Audiences and critics will flock
to see Jonas Blake's first foray

- as a director.
- (Aubrey) Yeah,

in... in which case, as one
of our most esteemed actresses,

shouldn't you be in the spotlight,
not behind it?

He hinted that Laurence Olivier

is going to attend...

- (exhales)
- ...our first night.

That would show Deidre Glenister?

(mutters) Do GSADS statutes
allow a non-member to direct?

Indeed. Er, what do the statutes
say, Dottie?

Erm, "Clause 18, Subsection five".

"The exclusions allow participation
of non-members

if the appointment is ratified
by a vote".

- All those in favour?
- (pensive music playing)

(Lowsley) The eyes of the world
will soon be upon us.

This must be GSADS' biggest
and best performance yet.

- (Aubrey chuckles)
- (all applauding)

(chuckles)

(dog barking)

(crow cawing)

(theme music playing)

♪ Oh come oh come Emmanuel

♪ And ransom captive Israel

♪ That mourns in lonely exile here

♪ Until the Son of God appear ♪

(doorbell ringing)

This year's panto cast
needs swelling.

And, oh...
And my little birdie tells me

that you have a fine
singing voice, WPC Button.

I mean, perhaps
you could be our Cinderella?

Go on then, sir.

I suppose every girl dreams
of playing Cinderella. (chuckles)

(chuckles) Livingstone! Gillespie!

- Acting's not really my bag, sir.
- What...

You know the GSADS
are not for me, sir.

- (Lowsley) What...
- Sir, I will say,

I am quite intrigued
by this pantomime.

So, the principal boy is played

- by a girl.
- Hmm.

And then the dame is a man,

and the audience spend
the entire performance

- heckling the actors.
- Aw! (exhales, groans)

- My error...
- Hmm.

...in giving the impression
that... that was a request.

I want you both washed
and brushed and ready

to audition at 03:00 p.m. sharp,

- and that is an order.
- (sighs)

- (sighs)
- (turkey gobbling)

(Sister Boniface) He still looks
a few pounds short

of a Christmas feast.

Dare we say, a little

- on the scrawny side.
- (gobbling)

- She won't like that.
- Yeah.

Watch who you're calling scrawny.
He's well-muscled.

- Aren't you Terry?
- (gobbling)

(pants) Oh. (exhales)

The Sunday school medley
are auditioning

for the pantomime this afternoon,
so I need volunteers to chaperone.

- Sunday school medley.
- (uplifting music playing)

(Reverend Mother Adrian)
Sister Reginald, you are excused.

Your time would be better used
fattening that bird

or there'll be no second helpings
for anyone.

- Cushty.
- (turkey gobbling)

Which leaves you two. Hmm.

(both) Yes, Reverend Mother.

I wish I could be in the pantomime.

I see no reason why not.

(pensive music playing)

You were raised
in the Australian outback,

son of a sheep farmer.

And Jonas Blake
is a "nom de plume"?

A stage name.

I started out as an actor,
and, er, "Dwayne Baker"

from Kookuburra Gull"
didn't quite have the ring.

- Why did you give up acting?
- (chuckles) I was terrible at it.

Fortunately,
I discovered I was better

at writing lines
than chewing them.

Tell us how "The angry man
of Melbourne",

has come to be directing
a provincial pantomime.

I'm writing a companion piece

to my Tony Award-winning "Rift".
Entitled "Nadir".

And I hope to direct it. (inhales)

It's a chance
to flex my directorial muscles.

I promise you a pantomime
like no other.

Thank you for your time, Mr Blake.

You have an interesting face.

Innocent yet full of angst.
Are you trying your luck today?

Copy to fill, deadlines to meet.

- Hello, Peggy.
- Hello, Norman.

It is a lot of time. (exhales)

Locked up in close proximity
in a small group

for weeks on end.
It can get emotionally... intense.

(indistinct chatter)

Sister Boniface, Sister Peter,

make sure the children
behave themselves!

(children screaming)

(groans) Right! Right! Children!

Settle down! Children! Please!

Charlotte, do not eat that.
Put it down.

- No, not there!
- No hair pulling, Clive!

- Or throttling! (gasps) Kevin!
- (Sam) Stop!

- Police!
- (birds chirping)

Any more of this,

and I could have you arrested
for breach of the peace.

Hands on heads. Form a line.

- (bell tolling)
- All yours, Sister.

God bless you. This way, children.

(bell tolling)

Miraculous timing.
They are quite a handful.

You here on police business?

If auditioning
for CC Lowsley counts.

But we're only signing on
for walk-ons. (exhales)

On the brighter side,
we could expand our social circles.

(quirky music playing)

I don't want to.

Nonsense.
We've come too far to give up now.

This is Wilf Wilson,
who would like to sign up.

I hardly think that's appropriate.

(inhales)
He's an altar boy at St Vincent's.

And if high mass isn't drama,
I don't know what is.

I can concur with that.

Well, I wonder what the staff
at Grimley Chase would feel

about one of their patients
gallivanting off at all times.

I've spoken to the warden
who agrees that Wilf

can be trusted to get himself
to and from rehearsals.

Reverend Mother lent me a bicycle.

- Hmm.
- (scoffs) That's maybe...

but I don't think the audience
would like to see someone

"like him" on stage.

Actually, we do have a vacancy
for assistant props master.

- How does that sound?
- It sounds important.

Oh, yes, it is. Very.

- Well, shall I put you down?
- Please.

Excellent.

Come on, let's go.

(narrator) "The princess
grew up virtuous and pure,

and one day
she met a handsome prince".

"He said he loved her
and gave her a golden egg,

but the handsome prince turned
into a frog".

(festive music playing)

- My love.
- (groans)

Have you, erm, thought
about Jonas' proposal...

- (clears throat)
- ...for his new play?

(groans) I prefer to risk my money
on something less fickle

than theatre audiences. (groans)

- Aubrey Bear. (chuckles)
- (groans)

As his investors,
think of all the people we'll meet

and all the parties.

You could show me off
to the world.

Well, I think I'd rather keep you
for myself.

- (chuckles)
- (growls)

Miranda!

(sighs) Must you always creep up
on us like that?

- You're late.
- (Miranda) Jim's lame.

I had to put a poultice on.

You spend too much time
at the stables

when you should be out
meeting people.

Yeah, a few new clothes

and some decent make-up
wouldn't go amiss either.

So, I can snag myself
a rich husband.

That's enough, Miranda.

I've said that you'll help
backstage at the pantomime.

- No, thanks.
- (Aubrey) Er...

Well, as long as
you're under my roof,

you do as you're told, young lady.
Is that understood?

- (groans, smooches)
- (groans) Ooh, honey bunny.

- Come here... (growls, wobbles)
- (smooches, chuckles)

Peggy Button made
a charming Cinderella.

(groans) Can you believe

that Bunny Frobisher
had the audacity to audition?

I mean, Cinderella
is an innocent young maiden

and she is neither.

As for actress, no one seems
to know what she was in.

Gwen Pike had it from Doris Pound

that she played bit parts
in a Shoreditch variety theatre.

(groans) Aubrey Frobisher
will rule the day.

You mark my words.

- I... I...
- (growls)

- (dramatic music playing)
- Has the cat got your tongue?

(inhales) She's got an eye!

- (growls)
- (cat growls)

Oh, dear.

Is that it?
"The Great Slaughter wreath thief".

How many have been stolen?

(smacks lips) Erm... (sighs)
Well, two so far.

One being Miss Thimble's,
who may well have mislaid it.

Oh, yay! Oh, yay!

Casting is announced. (chuckles)

Well done, everybody.
Oh, and, erm... (smacks lips)

...special congratulations
to you, Mr Whalley,

for bagging Buttons.

- I'm Buttons?
- (Lowsley) Mm-hmm.

Peggy Buttons?

Looks like we may be spending
a lot more time together.

I wouldn't count on it.

I'm buxom wench three,
crowd rehearsals only.

Er, Bunny Frobisher
is your Cinderella.

The frightening woman in the furs?

Our Director wants to add more...
maturity to the role.

Oh, well.
At least I'm not Horsetensia.

- Hmm? Who's Horsetensia?
- You are.

And so are you,
Inspector Gillespie.

But... Splendid stuff.

Oh, and don't forget,
costume fittings this afternoon.

- What's wrong?
- (bell ringing)

Hello? Excuse me. Emergency.

- We wish to report a mutilation.
- (intense music playing)

- (Sam) Any thoughts, Sister?
- No, it's definitely human.

Lack of decomposition suggests
it was removed recently.

Claw and beak marks indicate
by a bird.

Medium-sized scavenger,
so possibly a crow.

Who then dropped it
for Tibbles to find?

There are signs of active bleeding.

Which means?

The victim was alive
when the eye was removed.

Excellent news, Sister.
Obviously, not for the victim.

(mutters unintelligibly)

How's that feeling, Tom?

(continues muttering)

Ah! Bill.

Could we add
a little extra padding,

- erm, downstairs.
- (Bill) Okay.

Er, Mr Frobisher...
You must be Miranda.

I've assigned you
as props mistress.

And this is Wilf,
your assistant props master.

Well, I'll just
let you get on with it.

- Hello.
- Hello.

(Bunny)
Are you sure this was a good idea?

It's bad enough at home
with her looming

like a black cloud.

(exhales) Well, I did warn you
she was difficult.

- (scoffs)
- But don't worry, my darling.

I'll do something about her.
I promise.

- Well, as long as we're rid of her.
- (groans)

(chuckles)

I'm s... I'm sorry.

My family didn't want me either.

- (pensive music playing)
- You don't know anything about me.

Please, just keep your nose
out of my business.

We've been checking
missing persons,

and we think we need
to mount a search,

but it's taking a lot of time,
so I'm afraid we're going to have

- to bow out of the pantomime.
- Yeah, hang on, hang on.

The eye was pecked out
by a bird, you say?

So that gives us
a search radius of... (inhales)

Well, literally, as far
as the crow flies.

Well, that's an impossible task.

You see if Sister Boniface can,
you know, narrow it down a bit.

- Yes, sir.
- Yes, sir.

You... (hesitates)
And in the meantime,

I think police resources
would be better utilized elsewhere.

- Giddy up.
- (quirky music playing)

(exhales)

Can someone show me
to my dressing room?

We're a democratic troupe.

The artistes all muck in together
in the green room.

(scoffs) Mr Blake,
can you spare a moment?

Anything for my leading lady?

This leading lady
doesn't have a dressing room,

and I need privacy
to hone my performance.

Well, we wouldn't want you
unprepared. I'm sure, erm...

- Vera.
- ...Vera can sort something out.

(sniffs)

I'm sorry, I was so filthy.

I was seething, but I didn't need
to take it out on you.

It's okay.

What did you mean when you said
your parents didn't want you?

I was, er...

deviant.

So they sent me to the orphanage.

And I'm grown up now.
I live at Grimley Chase.

The asylum? Do you like it?

- (sighs) Everyone's old.
- (soft music playing)

And they're all poorly.
I don't have any friends.

Neither do I.

Girls my age
are only interested in boys.

Whereas I prefer horses.

I could be your friend.
I love animals.

And I promise
I won't talk about boys.

It's a deal.

(Felix) Why do I have
to be the back?

Because the senior officer always
leads from the front.

My family better not
find out about this.

- (groans)
- (tense music playing)

(narrator) "The princess returned
to her father's castle,

but he was angry
his daughter had married a frog

and so cast her out
into the winter snow

where she would freeze
and her eyes pecked out by crows".

(quirky music playing)

(groans, exhales) Intriguing.

(Jonas) Ladies and gentlemen,
thank you, one and all,

for sharing my vision.

To re-envisage the genre
by returning to "Aschenputtel".

The Brothers Grimm original.

After all, real fairy tales
don't have happy endings.

Th... This isn't what I asked for
at all. This won't do.

My proscenium
has been much admired.

Red, green, blue, yellow.
It's all so primary. (groans)

- Whereas I see monochrome...
- Hmm.

...light and dark,

representing the battle
between good and evil,

and in between,
every shade of grey.

Ah, genius!

- Very Gormenghast.
- Yes.

- Excellent.
- Who?

This will be a pantomime
like no other.

- Together, we will make history.
- Hear, hear.

- (crowd applauding)
- (dramatic music playing)

I have no idea
what he's talking about.

That makes two of us, Dottie.

(turkey gobbling)

Are you sure
you're feeding him properly?

Yeah.

Best quality cornmeal.
Mixed with oats.

As he's a bit of a feather plucker.

And raisins.
He's very fond of his raisins.

Then why isn't
he getting any bigger?

(Sister Reginald) I wondered that.

Perhaps there's something wrong
with him.

- (Reverend Mother Adrian) What?
- (Sister Reginald) Like bird virus.

(sighs) Maybe to pay
on the safe side,

we should get a turkey
from Ted Button this year.

We took vows of chastity,
obedience and poverty.

When God gave Abraham the ram
in the burning bush,

did he say, "No, thank you, Lord,

I'll get a bigger one
from the butcher"?

Double his rations.

- (soft music playing)
- (inhales) Right you are.

CC Lowsley insists
we narrow the area

- before we mount a search.
- Hmm. Yes, I thought he might.

- Can you do that?
- Negative.

Any forensic evidence was removed

when Mrs Clam put the eyeball
in a jar of pickling vinegar.

- So, we're stumped then?
- Oh, on the contrary.

The eye has it. Window to the body
as well as the soul.

I'm currently building up
a medical profile of the victim,

- which may help us identify him.
- From a pickled eyeball?

Well, Horatio Nelson and I
have been spending

- quite some time together.
- (chuckles)

Yes, although
there is a 50 per cent chance

they're a Horatia...

And what have they told you
about themselves?

Well, they're aged 70 to 80,
judging by the stage of a cataract.

A pterygium growth suggests
they spent a lot of time outside.

They're diabetic and, er,
they needed glasses

for long sight and astigmatism.

So we're looking
for an elderly person

that likes the outdoors
and wears glasses.

Well, that's half
of Great Slaughter, sister.

If I can measure the focal distance
of the lens,

then I can mock up the prescription

and see
if the optician recognises it.

Excellent work, Sister.

And sooner rather than later.
(exhales)

For all we know,
the victim could still be alive.

(whimsical music playing)

- (cheer)
- Coe! Step Papa!

Je suis revenue...

Volgaria! Dyspepsia!
How was your trip to Paris?

(speaking unintelligibly)

Oh! Oh, Paris! We saw it all!

Christine Dior! Channel!
Yves St Laurent!

- That awful turd!
- That...

That wasn't the Eiffel Tower
you saw!

That was your ugly bush
in the mirror!

- (Tom laughs)
- (Lowsley laughs)

Can we speed it up,
please, Buttons?

And may be a tad less
of the grimacing.

This thing's heavier than it looks.

Positions, pick up from Hardup.
What's that?

- Yes, what... what's that?
- (whimsical music playing)

The rest of their shopping.

We ran out of suitcases,
so we had to buy a wardrobe.

- (groans)
- Girls, you're bankrupting me.

- I might have to get a job!
- (groans)

My grandfather always used to say,
as one door closes, another opens.

- Lovely man, terrible carpenter.
- (thudding)

- (door squeaks)
- (thudding)

(tense music playing)

(screams)

Cause of death appears
to be a stab wound to the heart.

Serrated edges suggest
a jagged blade,

approximately two inches
in diameter.

Query some kind of hunting knife?

Redness and irritation
around the mouth

and the rope marks
to his wrists suggest

that he was chloroformed
and tied up before being stabbed.

This wasn't in the heat
of the moment.

Rigor mortis has set in.

It seems he's been dead
for at least six to eight hours.

What was Aubrey doing here
well before rehearsals?

Perhaps this has something
to do with it.

Look, the last entry
in his notebook,

- Henson, CFYC, Wheels.
- Hmm.

Okay, let's make a search
for the knife

and take statements
from everyone that was here.

I'll see if his wife or daughter
can shed some light on this.

His daughter went home in shock.

(sighs) I'm not sure Mrs Frobisher
is fit for interview.

(exhales)

Well, we'll check back in with them
in the morning, shall we?

(birds chirping)

(drawer squeaking)

(door knocking)

- I said I wasn't to be disturbed.
- Police are here, ma'am.

I was just looking for photographs.

We were only married
a few short weeks,

and I have so few memories.

- How did you and your husband meet?
- At a restaurant in London.

A widow and a widower dining alone,
and... (chuckles softly)

...somehow we got talking.

After my husband died,

I... I never thought
I'd find love again.

And then this wonderful man
swept me off my feet and...

(paper rustling)

(inhales, whimpers)
I'm sorry. We were so happy.

(sobs, exhales)

- (sniffs) Oh. Thank you.
- When was the last time

- you saw your husband?
- Erm...

(sighs) Around midday yesterday.

(gulps) He was supposed
to be taking me out for lunch,

but he had to dash off

for a meeting
with Samira Rowbotham.

- (paper rustling)
- (Bunny exhales)

He was in a frightful grump.
(inhales)

And that was the last time
I ever saw him.

(sobs) My poor Aubrey.

- Who would do this to him? (sighs)
- Did your husband have any enemies?

(sighs)

- Other than the obvious.
- (tense music playing)

(Bunny) He was sending her away,
you know.

- (tongue click)
- Here boy.

I need someone to fetch my wrap
from my dressing room.

- Can you manage that?
- His name's Wilf.

He's not here to fetch and carry
for the likes of you.

(Aubrey) Miranda show some respect
to your stepmother.

For what?

Being a mutton dressed
as a lamb gold digger.

(groans) How dare you!

And you are a rude, insolent brat

who, thankfully, I won't have
to put up with for much longer.

Are you going to tell her, Aubrey,
or am I?

We've decided it's time
you were independent.

You have a place
at Secretarial College

in Edinburgh,
starting in the new year.

No, I don't want to go.

It's time you made your own way
in the world.

What about Jim?

Well, I'm sure
we'll find a good buyer for him.

You... you can't do this, please.

- I'm begging you...
- It's my final decision.

And remember, Miranda,
you brought this on yourself.

(tongue clicks)

There's something not right
about that girl.

I haven't seen her shed
a single tear.

One more thing, erm...

Do the words
"Henson, CFYC, Wheels".

mean anything to you?

I'm afraid not.

(bell ringing)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I, erm...

I have a meeting to get ready for.

Ruby will see you out.

Bone dry.

His daughter isn't the only one
who hasn't shed a single tear.

Gentlemen.

- (horse whining)
- I think Jim likes me.

Horses are great judges
of character.

Better than humans.

- Will you stay with Jim now?
- (sighs) I expect so. (exhales)

This was my mother's home.
Now, it's mine.

Maybe I'll start a livery stable.

That way I can spend all day
with horses.

You could even help out
if you like.

- Do you really mean that?
- Of course I do.

Will you ask your stepmother too?

- Don't even joke about it.
- (door knocking)

- Miss Frobisher.
- I'm paying my condolences.

That's very considerate
of you, Wilf. (inhales)

Do you mind if we have
a private word with Miranda?

Why don't you have a go?
Long, slow strokes.

We're sorry for your loss
and rest assured

we're doing everything we can
to find out who did this.

Thank you.

(inhales) Were you
and your father close?

He went out of his way to avoid me

because he thought
I killed my mother.

She died giving birth
and I was a constant reminder.

Can you tell us
where you were yesterday

between 01:00 and 04:00 p.m.?

Riding. I took Jim out on a hack.

Can anyone verify this?

You think I killed him?

No, it's just we understand
that your father asked you

- to leave home.
- And I hated him.

And he wasn't much of a father.

But he's the only family I had.

And if you're looking
for someone with motive,

try his merry widow.

I'm sure he's left her
well-provided for.

Thank you, Miss Frobisher.
(exhales)

We'll be in touch
if there's anything else.

(bell ringing)

(door closing)

(exhales)
Good day to you, Mr Simpson.

I seek assistance tracking down
a missing person

aged over 70 with astigmatism

in at least one eye
and hypermetropia.

I took the liberty
of calculating a prescription.

Sphere minus 1.75,
cylinder minus 50, axis 70.

Robbie! Here, Robbie!

The Glenisters
are building a conservatory.

Expect an invitation from them
so they can show it off.

We'll never hear the end of it.

Do you know, I was thinking,
maybe it's time

- we enlarged our backside.
- Yes, dear.

The... the police are here.
Do you want me to stay?

(Sam) There's no need,
Mr Rowbotham.

We're just trying
to trace the last movements

of Aubrey Frobisher.

- Better get off to work, Robbie.
- (quirky music playing)

Excuse me.

(smooches)
Thank you for lunch, dear.

Very nice.

Goodbye.

We understand that you met
with Aubrey yesterday morning.

- PANTS.
- I beg your pardon?

"The Pantomime Artists Noel Trust".
(shushes)

It's, erm, a GSADS charity.

All the money
from the pantomime ticket sales

goes towards local worthy causes.

I see. And what was the reason
for the meeting?

Well, I'm treasurer of GSADS.
And Aubrey is... Was chairman.

Why are you asking?

It's just his wife mentioned

- he was a bit on edge beforehand.
- (scoffs)

Being married to a woman like that
would keep any man on edge.

But if you must know,

it was merely a routine meeting
to go through the accounts.

- I take it they're all in order.
- Impertinent.

I have an excellent head
for figures.

Then you'll have no objection
to us taking a look.

- (tense music playing)
- (chuckles softly) Be my guest.

(chuckles)

(Robbie)
Mr Frobisher's existing will,

leaving his whole estate
to his daughter,

was nullified on his remarriage.

Accordingly, he was in the process
of drawing up a new one,

leaving generous provision
for his wife

while his daughter
would receive the house

and the rest of the estate.

I believe he discussed this
with you.

He may have mentioned it,
but I had no interest.

We'd just got married. I didn't
want to think about him dying.

Hmm. Well, I'm afraid
he was yet to sign it,

which means he died intestate
without a will.

- What does that mean?
- In such cases,

the bulk of the estate passes
to the surviving spouse.

- (clock ticking)
- (tense music playing)

- But that's not fair.
- It's the law, I'm afraid.

Of course,
given your father's wishes,

I'm sure Mrs Frobisher
would want to do the right thing.

Of course.

(Sam) Bunny Frobisher,
the grieving widow, twice over.

Let's find out what happened
to husband number one.

And get a copy
of Aubrey Frobisher's will.

Let's see what she stood
to inherit.

Miranda Frobisher,
the ungrieving daughter.

And she was furious
that her father remarried.

Also, he was sending her away.

Samira Rowbotham.

She had a routine meeting
about the charity accounts.

But we know it was last minute

because Aubrey Frobisher had
to cancel his lunch with his wife.

Horatio Nelson has a name.
Silas Kaleb.

Age 72. Oh, and an address

about eight miles east
of Little Wilmscott.

(dramatic music playing)

According to the optician,
Silas Kaleb was a known recluse.

He only came into town
for food and supplies.

Which would explain
why no one reported him missing.

No obvious wounds to the body
or ligature marks.

And as he was still alive
when the eye was removed,

I'd say for now the most likely
cause was hypothermia.

Could you help me move him, please?
Just pop him there.

(Sam) Could he have taken ill
and collapsed out here?

(Felix) But why was he outside

without a coat on
and slippers on his feet?

(tense music playing)

Well, judging
by these splinters of wood,

I conjecture
he was incapacitated inside,

then dragged out here
and left to freeze to death.

- This was murder.
- (exhales)

(Felix) Right.
According to his family tree,

his wife died in 1946.
They had one child,

although I can't see the name
that's been struck out.

It must have been quite
some estrangement.

- Hmm. (exhales)
- An elderly recluse living alone,

seemingly nothing to steal.

Why would anyone want
to murder him?

(tense music playing)

Or send him a Christmas card.

A hand-painted one at that.
The little match girl.

Season's greetings
and a happy ever after.

Tragic as it is,
the audience is king.

So we're all in agreement.
We can't let our public down.

But Colin could step up
as narrator.

Poor Bunny Frobisher
can hardly continue.

So, we're a Cinderella short
as well.

I cast my vote for Peggy Button.
Her audition was delightful.

- I second that.
- I third it.

No one was asking you.
What does our director think?

Hmm. She could add
a certain rustic charm.

- All those in favour?
- (soft dramatic music playing)

My dear lady,
we weren't expecting you.

Our sincere condolences.

(inhales) And I can't let you down.

The show must go on.

It's what Aubrey would have wanted.

- I've brought you a present.
- (gasps, chuckles)

Oh, winter strawberry!

My favourite. And I'm so hungry.
How can I ever thank you, Buttons?

- (jazz music playing)
- How about a kiss?

Oh... (chuckles) ...but I've never
kissed a boy before.

It's easy.

Close your eyes and pretend
you're blowing out a candle.

And Buttons goes in for the kiss.

This side of Christmas
would be nice.

- (sneezes)
- (groans)

- (Button grunts)
- (inhales)

I can't work with this Pinocchio.

Take a few minutes,
we'll pick this up later,

and, erm, perhaps we can work
around that kiss.

Hmm.

We have to make allowances
for grief. At the same time,

let's unearth some of that raw
unrequited passion you...

you fantasize about deflowering
this young maiden.

It might help
if she was young and maidenly.

Moving on
to the glass slipper scene,

did you all
get your revised script?

(unintelligible ranting) Yes, and
have you gone soft in the head?

Yes, er, I think what Tom
is trying to say is... (chuckles)

...do we really want
the Ugly Sisters dismembering

their toes to fit
into the crystal slipper? (groans)

All I've done is return
to the Brother's Grimm

- source material.
- What about the kiddies?

They'll lap it up.

Children love to watch bad people
get their just desserts.

Children aren't nearly as innocent
as they'd like us to think.

Then we are agreed.
Where are props?

We need to talk shears,
sausages, and fake blood.

Does nobody have anything
to say about this?

Oh, you can't have a revolution
without spinning the wheel.

(muttering) I'll take his wheel
and shove it up his arse.

I share your sentiments, Tom.

They're possibly not the choice
of words.

(door creaks)

I can't bear this subterfuge.

How much longer
before we announce ourselves

to the world?

Perhaps longer than a day
after your bereavement.

(Bunny)
I can't spend much more time

- in this godforsaken backwater.
- (Jonas) Nor will you.

I've put the feelers out
to Larry and he's keen.

With him as our lead,
we can't fail.

(exhales)

I'm more than just a chequebook,
you know.

Have you thought
about a leading lady?

The final decision rests
with Larry,

but once he's seen you...

(both moan, smooch)

Goodbye, my Cinderella.

- Oh, dear. A fox, we assume?
- Yeah. Devious little beggars.

- Must have dug in under the wire.
- There goes our Christmas dinner.

If it is God's will we go without,
then so be it.

Perhaps Sister Lawrence
can rustle up a mock goose.

It was all very well in the war.
And we've plenty of potatoes.

(tense music playing)

We need to talk.

About you leaving.

This is my home.

It's my home now and I'm selling it
and moving back to London.

You know my father wanted it
to be mine.

Of course he would have wanted me
to make provisions for you.

You will receive
an annual allowance of 250 pound.

Obviously you'll have
to support yourself as well.

Where will I go?

I suggest you take that place up
at Secretarial College.

You evil old witch!

The words you are looking for
are thank you.

I'm not obliged
to give you anything.

Especially after your behaviour
toward me.

- I know you killed him.
- (tense music playing)

Did you kill your last husband too?

(exhales)

I won't lower myself
by responding to that.

You have until the new year.

So if I were you,
I'd start making plans.

Enjoy your breakfast.

(Sam) A known recluse
with no family or friends,

except for this estranged child.
Let's start by trying to find them.

Is it too much to hope

that you've got anything
on Aubrey Frobisher?

I took a look at the figures

and we are talking
a substantial amount.

Last year's takings
were over 2,000 pounds.

- Anything suspicious?
- No, the figures all add up.

But I did figure out one thing.
So, all of the charities, CFYC,

Henson and Wheels,
they're all supported by PANTS.

I'm going to look at the addresses
and follow up.

Morning. (breathing heavily)

There's someone you may want
to add to that board.

- I'd hardly call it an affair.
- So what would you call it?

- (inhales)
- (door closing)

Un badinage du theatre.

The flame burns bright
for as long as the rum before...

(blows) ...turning to embers
at the final curtain call.

And how long
was this badinage going on for?

Just a few weeks.

What can I say, she showed willing
and I was weak.

Coincidentally, her new husband
was a wealthy man.

And you're starting
a new show, I believe.

Mea culpa. I must confess to using
this provincial opportunity

to attempt to undo Aubrey's
purse strings.

Can you tell me where you were
on Tuesday between 01:00 and 04:00?

Pounding the keys and praying
for the inspiration of Thoth.

I hope I'm not a suspect.

Did Aubrey find out
about the affair?

Perhaps there was a fight and...

- you stabbed him.
- (chuckles)

I admit to being a philanderer,
but I'm also a gentleman.

If Aubrey had found out,
I'd have taken a punch on the nose

as his cuckold's prerogative.

The suggestion I'd stab him
is frankly insulting.

We'll let you know
if there's anything else.

- Thank you for your time.
- And for yours.

I'll be seeing you at the full
props rehearsal tonight.

- And I do hope you're off book.
- (inhales)

Or should that be on the hoof?

(tense music playing)

(narrator)
"The princess made her way

to the frog prince's kingdom".

"But the king
and queen didn't want it known

that their son was a frog".

(whimsical music playing)

Stop, stop, stop!

This is torture.
An assault on the senses.

What do you think you're doing?

I expect they've been rather
busy investigating

the brutal murder of our chairman.

They just need a little more
rehearsal time, that's all.

Who is Horsetensia?

Why does she dance
while Cinderella weeps?

- What is this about?
- She's a pantomime horse.

She'll go to the knackers yard
and be turned into glue

before the start of act one.
Offstage.

Thank you for your contributions.
You're no longer needed.

- (exhales) Fine by us.
- You can't get rid of Horsetensia.

Cinderella will wear a vial of glue
around her neck

as a reminder of her loss.

- So, what do we all think?
- (chokes)

Oh, for goodness' sake, Samira,
spit it out.

- (chokes)
- Shall I get you medication?

(groans, chokes)

I'm afraid it's too late.

Do we have an exact time of death?

Half nine.

Yet, rigor mortis
has already set in,

which is unusual.
As is the opisthotonus...

the rigid extensions of her limbs,

and there are traces of cyanosis
to the face.

So she didn't die
from a heart attack?

Hmm. I conjecture.

Some sort of fast-acting poison.

- Oh, dear.
- Sister?

It transpires we have some sort
of serial murderer on our hands.

So the question is, who's next?

Poisoned?

Did anyone see Samira eating
or drinking anything

in the half hour before her death?

Oh, she was on stage
rehearsing the entire time.

Cinderella's strawberry?

- I know they're your favourite.
- Oh!

Cinderella's going to bed
without any supper.

I'll take that.

Oh, that was sour.

Cinderella? Are you still here?

(Felix) Where did the strawberry
come from?

From me.

I made it.

It was made out of marzipan
for the full props rehearsal.

Then what happened?

(exhales)
It went on the props table.

Anyone could have tampered with it.
But why would I kill Samira?

Maybe she discovered
you were responsible

- for your father's death.
- I told you yesterday.

Bunny is getting everything,
my home, my inheritance.

- She must be responsible.
- Thank you, Miss Frobisher.

We'll be in touch
if there's anything else.

- Ah, Sister, what have you got?
- A possible murder weapon.

(Sam) Good man.

I'd say its maker
was our prime suspect.

(Robbie) Why would anyone want
to poison my wife?

We were hoping you might be able
to shed some light.

Did she have any enemies?

Enemies? The woman's a saint.

(sobs) Was a saint.

Were you aware
of your wife's emergency meeting

with Aubrey Frobisher
the day he died?

No. I know nothing about it.

It was to do
with the PANTS charity accounts.

- Sorry, I...
- (dramatic music playing)

I can't believe she's gone.

Please, find out who's done this.

Don't doubt it, Mr Rowbotham.

(Jonas)
Due to last night's tragedy,

I'm afraid we are now
two cast members down.

They're not down.
They were felled. Murdered.

(muttering) They're picking us off
one by one.

(scoffs) Well, of course we're not
being picked off one by one.

This isn't Phantom of the Opera.

Look, I have
Great Slaughter's finest

on the case and every faith
that they will solve it imminently.

- Great stuff.
- Moreover...

Since when have GSADs
let murder get in the way

- of a performance?
- He has a point. (laughs)

- It is for the children.
- Huh?

Then the show will go on.

And a starring role to fill.

I've got just the person in mind
to play our new wicked stepmother.

- (laughs)
- Well, it is a big role.

- But if there's really no one else.
- I meant Dorothy.

I could have sworn
for a second he said me.

- (quirky music playing)
- Are you...

sure that she's a right fit
for the role.

(Jonas) Trust me, she's perfect.

The subversion of expectation.

Evil wearing the visage
of an angel.

Dorothy, come with me
and I'll walk you through it.

You should know that learning lines
isn't exactly my forte.

(Jonas)
That's what improvisation's for.

This has gone far enough.
Hector, I insist you do something.

Me?

Well, with both Aubrey
and Samira gone,

you are acting chairman of GSADS.

Well, I insist you call
an emergency general meeting.

(blows raspberries)

Hey. Hello, Wilf.
How can I help you?

I want to confess
to the murder of Mrs Rowbotham.

What reason did you have
for killing Mrs Rowbotham?

She was a bad person.
Bad people should be punished.

It's in the Bible.

(smack lips, sighs)
How was she a bad person?

She punished us.

- All the children hated her.
- The Sunday school medley?

No.

At the orphanage.

- (scoffs)
- (sighs)

(smacked lips) Mrs Rowbotham worked
at your orphanage?

She used to be Matron.

We called her the wicked witch.

Can you tell us
what you poisoned her with?

(suspenseful music playing)

Rat poison?

Of course.
We didn't believe a word of it.

But as he's confessed and given us
a possible murder weapon,

we've no choice but to arrest him.

Oh, dear.

Spit it out.

Well, toxicology results
were very revealing.

Samira was murdered
with strychnine,

which just so happens to be
a component of rat poison.

(tense music playing)

- Thank you for coming.
- It sounded urgent.

Do I deduce
you've been investigating?

I believe a crime
has been committed.

The fox was framed.

Sister Boniface confirmed death
by rat poison strawberry,

but with precious little in the way
of suspects or motive.

(Peggy)
We have a name for the child.

- A daughter, Janice, 50.
- Hmm. She's our only lead.

We need to find her.

Let's carry out background
and criminal record checks.

- I've got something.
- (Sam) Hallelujah.

Samira Rowbotham.
You know those charities

CFYC, Henson Collection, Wheels?
They're all bogus.

The money's been diverted
into one account.

Whose?

(narrator)
"So in the dead of night,

they sent their soldiers
who hid a golden cup

on the princess
and said she was a thief".

"They put her in chains
and locked her in a tower".

(Christmas music playing on radio)

(police 1) Stop! You aren't
allowed in here, madam!

I heard you confessed.
Why would you do that?

(Peggy) I'd have to ask you
to leave, miss.

Please, Wilf.

You don't understand
what will happen to you.

(dramatic music playing)

- (suspenseful music playing)
- I don't understand.

Aubrey became suspicious
of these bogus charities.

If you were caught embezzling,
you would have been finished,

both professionally and personally.

So, you killed him.

You've got it all wrong.

But now, Samira knew about it,
she was under suspicion herself.

Did she threaten to hand you in?

I didn't take that money.

Well, your bank statements
say otherwise.

It was my account in name only.

Of course, married women
can't have bank accounts,

but Samira dealt
with all the finances.

All I did was sign the checks.

I didn't even look
at the bank statements.

She went on quite a spending spree.

A new car,
a new dishwashing machine,

a central heating system,
and you never questioned

where the money came from.

I just assumed she was adept
with the housekeeping.

I don't know anything
about this missing money.

A married man hands over
complete control

of his finances to his wife.

It's a hard story to swallow.

(dramatic music playing)

(sighs) Men like me...

weak men like me,
need women like Samira to survive.

She was my shield...
and my strength.

I don't know
how I'll cope without her.

Who sent you this?

No idea. Why?

I think we all agree the recasting

of Wicked Stepmother
is the final straw.

- No offense, Dottie.
- None taken.

You're much better
at being wicked than I am.

Well, perhaps Jonas had a point
about the subversion

of good and evil.

Dottie?

(sighs) Oh, God, yes.
Yes, you're right.

He's hijacked our opus
for a vanity project

and turned it
into an Ibsenesque farce.

I mean, it's a travesty,
a disaster, insanity.

Well, thank goodness
you've seen the light.

Something must be done.
Although I'm not sure what.

- (suspenseful music playing)
- Tar and feather him?

(sighs) Yes, well,
maybe something... (clears throat)

...that manages to avoid
actual physical harm.

(indistinct chatter)

(Sister Boniface) Bravo, Sam.
Painted by the same hand.

And with the same
rather odd greeting inside.

I wonder if Aubrey Frobisher
received one, too.

(Sam) Funny you should say that.

We went straight back,
and lo and behold.

Oh. Ah, yes.
You'll notice someone missing.

- Hmm.
- Hmm.

- St Joseph.
- St Joseph.

- Correct.
- (gentle music playing)

Of course, erm,
pass me the first card, will you?

Here, take a look at this.

The smudges in the trees.

On close examination,
they aren't smudges at all.

They're crows. Here, look at this.

What do you see in the window?

- A wicked witch's face.
- Are these some type of code?

We're looking for one murderer
for all three victims.

But what's the link?

Find the link
and we catch our killer.

Whilst we appreciate
all your efforts and, er, flair

as a director, the time has come
for a parting of the ways.

Et tu, Brute?

But we are not worthy
of your talents, Maestro.

I mean, it's not you.
It's... it's us.

(scoffs)

Are you absolutely sure
you want to do that?

I'm the star billing.

Critics are flocking to see it.

(Mrs Clam)
It's not about the critics.

- It's about the audience.
- It's always about the critics.

(dramatic music playing)

And what will I say when they ask
why Jonas Blake walked away

from his much-anticipated
directorial debut?

That he was unable to work
with a ramshackle troupe

of amateurs who,
by their own admission,

weren't worthy?

What... We would be
the laughing stock of the county?

You'll be national laughing stocks.

It'll be plastered
over the arts pages

of every newspaper.

Are you blackmailing us?

I'm helping you
to reach your heights.

Have courage to be the avant-garde.

When the reviews are out,
you'll know I was right.

You can go down in history
as groundbreakers

or with your reputation shredded.
The choice is yours.

I take it this is extracurricular.

Reverend Mother.

Oh, I seem to have
lost track of time.

I'll be out of here
in two shakes of a...

- You carry on, Sister.
- Oh, yes.

Righto?

I assume you're looking
for Samira Rowbotham's killer.

I heard the boy
confessed to murder.

What was he thinking?

He could be diagnosed
criminally insane

- and sent to Broadmoor.
- You're very fond of Wilf.

(sighs) He reminds me
of my brother, Dougal.

(sombre music playing)

Only my parents refused
to send him away.

Daddy said that
with eleven already,

one more would make no difference.

Except that he did.

He was our ray of sunshine.

He was blessed. He had a family.
Unlike poor Wilf.

People like Dougal and Wilf
don't need locking away.

They need the same
as everyone else.

Love, care, and purpose.

- Amen to that.
- (sighs)

Right. I'd better get on with this.

Do your best work.

Yes.

It's just, erm,
it's a bit distracting with you.

Good night then, Sister.

Don't forget to turn off
the lights when you leave.

- Good morning, sir.
- Good morning, Felix.

I found a 30-year-old conviction
for Silas' daughter, Janice.

Larceny. She was a maid

who stole a valuable bracelet
from her employer.

That would explain the fallout
with her family.

That's not all, though.

Her employer was
Aubrey Frobisher's mother.

Which means we now have a link
between Silas Kaleb

- and Aubrey Frobisher.
- Right. One last thing.

The arresting officer was
Police Constable Hector Lowsley.

(sombre music playing)

Heard you were looking for me.

(Sister Peter) Take a seat,
please, Sister Reginald.

Don't mind if I do. (grunts)

My bunions have been giving me
the right gyp. (sighs)

What's this, the third degree?

(ominous choral music playing)

You are trying our patience,
Sister Reginald.

But it is of no matter.

(cackles)

We have ways of making you talk.

We have questions regarding
the alleged apprehension

of Terry the Turkey.

Sister Peter, it turns out,
is quite the Sherlock Holmes.

Shouldn't you be talking
to the fox?

The edges have a pointed end.

This fence wasn't torn
by tooth and claw.

It was wire cutters.

And this, allegedly ripped out
in the struggle,

except lack of skin or blood
or trauma on the calamus

suggests it was shed naturally.

So what?

And tests reveal the blood
to be a mixture of cocoa

and icing sugar.

And finally, turkey footprints
on the outside perimeter

of the fence heading
in the direction of the woods.

- I raised him from an egg.
- (soft music playing)

He was a cheeky
little ball of fluff.

We just got on from the off.

The thought
of chopping his head off...

never mind it being cooked, eaten.

If it's any consolation,
the guilt's been killing me.

I never meant
we'd go hungry Christmas Day.

Mock goose, I ask you?
Has the woman lost her marbles?

(sighs deeply)
There's only one thing for it.

Confession, repentance, absolution.

I'll fess up to Reverend Mother.

I hope she remembers
the absolution.

And at least Terry is free.

He's probably running in the woods,

trying his wings
and foraging for berries.

(Sister Boniface) Good old Terry.

It must be 30 years ago.

I was a wet behind-the-ears
constable partnered

with Sergeant Derek Spike.

Janice Kaleb was accused
of stealing a bracelet

from her employer.

Erm, she was married
to some ministerial what not,

so we had to take it seriously.

I had no idea that the son
was Aubrey Frobisher.

The son?

When arrested, Janice claimed
to be pregnant by the son

of the house, and that the family
were trying to get rid of her.

What did the family say?

(laughs) They denied it naturally.

Said that their boy
hadn't laid a finger on her,

and that she was the sort of girl
that was known to be loose

with her favours.

Aubrey Frobisher.

I mean, who'd have thought it?

Didn't you interview him?

(Lowsley) Well, he was up
at Oxford at the time.

And by then,
it was too late anyway.

Er, Derek Spike and I had already
searched the parents' house

and found the bracelet
in her bedroom under a floorboard.

(sighs) It wasn't till later
that I had cause to doubt.

Sir?

Oh, yes, well, not long after,
Derek Spike was,

well, turfed out of the force
for bribery and corruption.

He went into security
and a year later was killed

in a raid on a bullion depot.

It wasn't until much later
that we discovered

that he was an inside man.

Do you think the family bribed him
to plant the evidence?

Well, with the benefit
of hindsight, damn right I do.

But it was too late
for Janice Kaleb.

She'd already served her sentence
of three months for larceny.

(suspenseful music playing)

I... I don't suppose you know
what happened to her?

We're working on it, sir.

We now have a link
between Silas Kaleb

and Aubrey Frobisher,

but how are they linked
to Samira Rowbotham?

What did you find out, Sister?

Oh, well, I didn't recover
any forensic evidence,

but under the microscope,

the cardstock shows
subtle variations,

possibly caused by the presence
of an invisible watermark.

(spectrometer whirring)

What's that?

Toxicology results
on Wilf's rat poison.

Right.

So, here's the thing.

I don't have all day,
Sister Reginald.

It's about Terry.

Ah. So, your conscience
is troubling you,

- letting a fox take him.
- That's it, see?

He wasn't...

taken by a fox.

He wasn't taken by a fox.

He wasn't taken by a fox because...

He wasn't taken by a fox
because Terry is safely returned

and back in his pen!

Is there something wrong
with your vocal cords,

Sister Reginald?

Why didn't you just come out
with it in the first place?

Oh, this is joyful news.

I shall bear the good tidings
to Sister Lawrence myself.

(laughing) Oh, yes!

♪ Silent night, holy night ♪

I'm sorry.

God's will, innit.

♪ All is calm... ♪

Right, Wilf, you're free to go.

You know that rat poison?

We tested it, and it was salt
and bicarbonate soda.

Did you get it
from the props table?

- Yes.
- (dramatic music playing)

You know wasting police time
can be a serious offense.

Are you going to tell us
why you did it?

I don't know.

Right. Come on.

There's someone going to fetch you
from the hospital.

But first, there's someone waiting
for you at reception. Come on.

(intriguing music playing)

Eucalyptus!

Bingo!

Oh, yes, Sam, it's me.
I think I know who sent the cards.

But I can't for the life
of me think why.

(narrator) "The princess pushed
the soldiers from the top

of the tower
and escaped with the golden egg".

"The egg hatched
into a beautiful baby dragon

who the princess loved like the sun
and moon and all the stars".

Well, I'll be there.

And not to worry, mum's the word.

(indistinct carol)

Why did you confess
to killing Samira?

I heard the police.

They said
you were suspect number one.

Suppose I should be flattered.

Did you think I did it?

I saw the tin of poison
in the box cupboard.

I just didn't want you
to get caught.

If I was going to murder someone,
I'd think of something

much more inventive than poison.

Like trampling them to death
with a herd of horses.

(both chuckles)

See, you have thought about it.

- You could have gone to prison.
- I'm already in prison.

- Are you still my friend?
- You're a chump, Wilf Wilson.

You confessed to murder for me.

I say that makes us
friends forever.

Until you leave.

Shall we get some mulled wine?

- I've never had mulled wine.
- You'll like it.

(laughs) Just don't get tipsy
and confess to another murder.

Ooh.

- We'll need to use forced entry.
- We don't have a warrant.

Well, we don't need one

if we suspect
someone's breaking in.

Well, no one's breaking in.

Not yet, they're not.
Out of the way.

- (screams)
- (soft music playing)

The back door was open...

Hello?

- (ominous music playing)
- Hello?

Is there anybody there?
(muffled voice)

I hope you're right
about this, Sister.

Well, all three cards were made
from eucalyptus pulp,

not to mention the watermarks
of the golden wattle,

a flower indigenous to Australia.

(pensive music playing)

(Sister Boniface)
And it seems we have our artist.

But how is Jonas Blake,
the son of an outback farmer,

- linked to all of our victims?
- (Sam) Locked.

Need to find something
to jemmy it open.

Oh, allow me.

A little something I picked up
from Father Brown.

(lock clicks)

Ah.

What's that?

No idea. Let's have a look.

"'Once Upon a Time' by Janice Kaleb
for my son, Jason".

Jason Kaleb.

- It's an anagram of Jonas Blake.
- (choral music playing)

Oh!

(Sister Boniface) Hmm.
Some kind of fairy tale.

And it appears
the final illustrations

were made by a different hand.

The same as the Christmas cards.

Dedicated to Silas Kaleb,
Aubrey Frobisher,

Samira Rowbotham and...

Felix, get the station
on the telephone.

(tense music playing)

(pensive music playing)

(Lowsley) I say, old boy,
I may have tried to oust you,

but this is, erm...
a bit extreme, don't you think?

When this rope is cut,
you'll plummet like a stone.

(whimpers)

But before that,
I want to tell you a story.

Every night
as I was going to sleep,

my mother
would tell me a fairy tale.

Only later
I realised it was no tale.

So, if you are hanging comfortably,
I shall begin.

"Once upon a time,
there was a beautiful princess

with hair as golden as the sun".

"Her father told her
that if she was virtuous and pure,

then one day she would meet
a handsome prince".

(Lowsley) Did this princess
have a name?

- Janice.
- Janice Kaleb?

You're her son!

- What... so she didn't give you up?
- She refused.

Worked her fingers
to the bone in menial jobs

to keep us together.

But we're getting ahead
of ourselves.

"The princess grew up
virtuous and pure".

"And one day she met
a handsome prince".

"He said he loved her
and gave her a golden egg".

"But the handsome prince
turned into a frog".

- "And it was a knife to her heart".
- Aubrey Frobisher?

- You killed your father?
- He was no father.

He seduced my mother
with promises of marriage,

then denied my very existence,

and continued to deny me
to the end.

This is a mistake,
I tell you. (whimpers)

You've confused me
with someone else.

I never knew Janice Kaleb.
(screaming, groaning)

(Jonas) I knifed him in the heart
as he did my mother.

(Lowsley)
And you killed Silas Kaleb.

Who's telling this story?

Oh, no, no, no.
The floor's yours, old bean.

Literally.

"The princess returned
to her father's castle".

"But he was angry his daughter
had married a frog and cast her out

into the winter snow
where she would freeze

with her eyes pecked out by crows".

(Lowsley) Father and grandfather.

Well, this is turning
into, well, quite the familicide.

He cast her out for bringing shame
on the family.

Sixteen-years-old and pregnant
with only the clothes on her back.

Although I will admit
he was the only one

to cause me hesitation.

I looked in his face
and I saw my mother's eyes.

Good afternoon, sir.
My car broke down.

Could I use your telephone
to call for help.

Only the resemblance stopped there.

I'll need tuppence for the call.

(muffled)

(crow cawing)

A poetic justice, don't you think?

And so the story continues.

"The princess made her way
to the frog prince's kingdom,

but the king and queen
didn't want it known

that their son
had turned into a frog".

"And so in the dead of night,

they sent their soldiers
who hid a golden cup

on the princess
and said she was a thief".

They put the princess in chains
and locked her in a tower.

Hang on a jolly minute.

I want it on record
that Derek Spike

was responsible for that.

I've never taken a bribe
in my life. (sniffs)

(hesitates) Unless, of course, erm,

you count the, erm,
the odd pork chop from Ted Button

for turning a blind eye
to his delivery van

for obstructing the high street.

But, you know, I mean, that's more
of a civic duty, really.

I mean, after all,
a town without meat is, er,

is a city under siege.

Obviously you deny it,

from corrupt constable
to chief constable.

All the farther to fall
from your ivory tower.

"The princess pushed
the soldiers from the top

of the tower and escaped
with the golden egg".

"The egg hatched
into a beautiful baby dragon,

whom the princess loved
like the sun and moon

and all of the stars".

- "And they all lived happily..."
- No! Wait!

- You haven't finished yet!
- Your story ends here.

Sorry, I don't mean
to interrupt you mid-rehearsal,

but, er, Trevor Jones
has lost his asthma inhaler

and thinks it might have been

when the Sunday school medley
were rehearsing.

She's harmless, Jonas.

- Let her go.
- She's a witness.

Don't think about running, Sister.

My upbringing wasn't up to much,

but I can hit a moving possum
at 40 feet.

I'm not afraid of death.
It goes with the job.

But I couldn't help overhearing.

And I do hate not knowing
how a story ends.

(dramatic music playing)

When I was eight, my mother got TB

from years of living
in mouldy tenements.

I was sent to an orphanage
while she spent months in hospital.

"The baby dragon was stolen

from the princess
by a wicked witch".

"She locked it in a cage
and sent it to the dark lands

across the world
and told the princess

her dragon was dead".

I was wondering
when we'd get to Samira Rowbotham.

She should never have been
in charge of children.

She hated children,

particularly the ones
who challenged her.

We were labelled wayward
and a special punishment meted out.

Samira Rowbotham
locked you in a cage

and sent you to Australia?

She told me my mother
didn't want me and selected me

for the child migrant program.

Thousands of us.

The orphaned, the unwanted,
the drains on society.

Promised loving homes
then shipped off like convicts

to lives of abuse.

When my mother returned for me...

- they told her I was dead.
- (Lowsley) Well, that's not all.

(Jonas) Some of us
had their names changed

to stop their families
looking for them.

(Sister Boniface)
And what happened to you?

I was adopted by outback farmers.

They didn't want children.
They needed unpaid labour.

Five of us living in a shed

because, God forbid
we'd dirty their house.

You poor child.

I escaped as soon
as I was big enough

to outrun the old git.

Then Melbourne...
and the end of our story.

(pensive music playing)

(Jonas) "The dragon grew bigger
and stronger"

until it could fly back across
the world where it sought out

those who had wronged the princess
and rained fire on them".

"And they all lived
happily ever after".

- (Lowsley) Wait!
- I've got you, son!

- (screams)
- (grunts)

(Jonas) Who's up there?
Get down here now! (groans)

- (screams)
- (objects clattering)

I think he's got percussion.

I'm very sorry for what happened
to you and your mother.

You both suffered terribly
at the hands of others.

Thank you, Sister.

You know, you're the first person
to say that.

May I ask, what happened to Janice?

(soft music playing)

On returning to England,
I tracked her down.

I wanted to parade my success.

Show her how wrong
she was for abandoning me.

- So, you found her?
- I was nearly too late.

She was in hospital,
riddled with cancer.

And far from abandoning me,

she believed for all
those years that I was dead.

At least she died
knowing the truth.

She only lived a few more days.

She said they were
the happiest days of her life.

And when I heard her story I...

swore on her dying
breath to avenge her.

Completing her fairy tale
felt appropriate.

I think she would be proud.

Don't you?

- I will pray for you.
- (Sam) With me!

Oh, a grateful thank you
once again, Sister.

Eh, and I hope you'll accept reward
by way of a Christmas gift

from the Great Slaughter Police.

Perhaps a new, erm,
gizmo thingy for the lab.

(festive music playing)

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.

And what would you like
for Christmas, little girl?

A dolly? A spinning top?

Ooh. (chuckles, clearing throat)

"A high-range microscope,
infrared camera,

spectrometer, cyan-noir-chlorate,
fuming chamber"?

Actually, sir, there is something.

(Miranda) He's my half-brother.

And he murdered our father.

It's revolting.

He was taken from a loving mother
and condemned

to a childhood of abuse.

It's impossible to know the damage
it inflicted on his mind.

This place is cursed.

I can't wait to sell up
and get out of here.

Actually, you'll need to
accompany us to the station

to answer a few questions
about your husband.

Why do you want
to talk about Aubrey?

(Sam) Your first husband,

the one you claim
made you a widow,

when he is, in fact,
alive and well in France.

He's dead to me.

After running off
with that croupier

from Monte Carlo.

- I was to all intents a widow.
- Not in the eyes of the law.

Bigamy is a criminal offence.
Come on.

As is fraud for monetary gain.
This way.

I don't understand.
What does this mean?

Well, it means
that your father's marriage

was never legal.

And as his sole heir,
all this is yours.

We can't let this defeat us.

Our director
went on a killing spree!

Yes, true.

Our director went
on a killing spree.

But now he is safely behind bars
and our opening night is sold out.

Well, we... we can't carry on.

This'll be all over the newspapers.

The pantomime of death.

Ah, there is no such thing
as bad publicity.

And what about the little children?

(sighs) No, it isn't Christmas
without the pantomime.

We'll pick ourselves up,
dust ourselves down

and garner our fighting spirit.

(speaking unintelligibly)
You'll take over as director?

Oh, thank you, Tom.

It will be an honour for me
to take over as director.

I'll gird my loins,
go back to the book

and we will deliver
what we do best.

A traditional
Christmas family entertainment.

- Hooray!
- (all applaud)

♪ Fall on your knees

♪ O hear the Angel voices... ♪

(Sister Reginald)
There's extra cranberries...

and raisins in there.

You're a top geezer, Terry.

I could see that
the minute you hatched.

And you're a very good listener.

I want you to know,
I hope you had a good life.

(Terry gobbling)

I shall miss our little chats.

(dramatic music playing)

- I'll make it quick.
- (Terry gobbling)

- You won't feel a thing.
- Stop! Sister Reginald, no!

Stop!

What?

- Hello, Wilf.
- Am I in trouble?

- (Miranda) Have you done something?
- You aren't in trouble. Sit down.

I wanted to talk to you about this.

Maplecrest Farm.

It's a new facility,
very progressive.

It's for people like you who want
to live more independent lives.

- It looks nice.
- (Reverend Mother Adrian) Yes.

There are 18 residents
and trained staff

to look after everybody
and supervise them

in the community, in their jobs.

- They have jobs?
- (Reverend Mother Adrian) Oh, yes.

Either on the farm
or in the community.

Now, I've spoken
to the relevant authorities.

Obviously they would have
to be an assessment,

but the place is yours
if you want it.

- And you'd have friends.
- (soft music playing)

You're my friend.

And friends help each other out.

It's not far from here
and you'll need a job

while I need help
at my new livery yard.

That way we would see
each other almost every day.

So... what do you think?

- Deal.
- (laughs)

Oh, yay. Oh, yay!

By royal decree,
King Otto invites you

to tonight's performance
of Cinderella!

(audience applauds)

Cinderella, look at this!

Buttons! Buttons! Give that to me!

Oh!

The king is holding a grand ball
to find a bride for the prince.

Every eligible maiden
in the land is invited.

- I'm gonna marry a prince!
- (audience laughs)

Cinderella is the prettiest girl
in the land.

- Isn't she, boys and girls?
- (audience cheers)

Oh, no. she isn't.

- (Buttons) Oh, yes, she is.
- (audience) Oh, yes, she is.

Enough!

Any more noise out of you lot,
and I'll have you all put

in the stocks
and pelted with vegetables.

I'm talking to you,
the little boy

in the red jumper in the third row.

I've got my eye on you.

(audience jeers)

First, Buttons,
you've got to run to my bath.

- Right-o.
- (muttering) Then file my nails.

- Right-o.
- Then you've got to shave my leg.

- Right-o.
- Why do you keep saying Right-o?

Because you're standing
on my right toe!

(audience laughs)

Your invitation to the ball.

Are you happy, Cinderella?

- Yes, I am.
- Then tear it up.

- (audience jeers)
- What?

(quirky music playing)

(audience applauding, cheering)

Crystal slipper!

You couldn't fit your foot
in the crystal palace!

- (laughs)
- (audience laughs)

- She's behind you!
- What?

- (audience) She's behind you!
- (screams)

(audience laughs)

The winter strawberry.
Oh, and I'm so hungry.

How can I ever thank you, Buttons?

How about a kiss?

(sighs) I've never kissed a boy.

- (audience) Aww.
- It's easy.

Close your eyes and pretend
you're blowing out a candle.

(festive music playing)

(audience gasping) Aww!

- (audience applauds)
- (whistles)

- (audience member whistling)
- (audience jeers)

(audience cheers)

MUSIC: "Joy to the World"
by Phil Wickham.

♪ Joy to the world
The saviour reigns

♪ Let men their songs employ

♪ While fields
And floods rocks hills and plains

♪ Repeat the sounding joy
Repeat the sounding joy

♪ Repeat repeat the sounding joy ♪

(bell chiming)

(Reverend Mother Adrian)
A few words before we start.

Make it a few. I'm starving.

Let us thank God
for this magnificent feast

and the great Slaughter Police
for their generous gift

of this magnificent bird.

(Sisters) Amen.

♪ He rules the world
With truth and grace

Happy Christmas, Sister Reg.

♪ And makes the nations prove

♪ The glories of His righteousness

♪ And wonders of His love
And wonders of His love

♪ And wonders, wonders of His love

(Terry gobbling)

♪ Joy to the world the Lord is come

♪ Let earth receive her king

♪ Let every heart prepare Him room

♪ And heaven and nature sing
And heaven and nature sing

♪ And heaven
And heaven and nature sing

♪ And heaven
And heaven and nature sing ♪