Original subtitles

[Bird cawing]

[Children singing]

[Chopping continues]

MAN: Anything else?

Kidneys.

None of your frozen.

Juicy.

I like the juice.

[Children singing]

[Clank]

Hey! Go on! Get out!

[Bell tolling]

[Children singing]

[Squealing]

[Door closes]

WOMAN: Ah.

I just thought I'd come in.

Of course, my dear.

That's what the church is for.

Would you like a biscuit?

Aah!

He'd never do a thing like that.

There's been a mistake made.

Glasses.

He were never a quitter,

not Uncle Albert.

There was no substitution bench

in his day.

He'd play on to the end.

He was my childhood hero, my role model

long before they even thought up the term.

Readsby?

It's a village not far from Ackersly.

They retired there.

Then Aunt Em died, and he were on his own.

That's only 30 miles away.

It's no distance.

But we've never been to see him.

No!

You've hardly ever spoken of him.

If you have a childhood hero, woman,

You don't expect him to grow old.

We grow old, Robert.

Here.

Come and sit by me.

You've not called me "woman"

since they day they made you

take voluntary redundancy.

[Sobbing]

Ohh.

You daft apeth.

You can't be expected to understand...

about men's feelings.

I know. I know.

I looked up to him.

The letter said there was an inquest.

They brought it in suicide.

He'd never do a thing like that.

They must have got it wrong.

Well, you call yourself a detective?

You must investigate.

I won't rest till I know the truth.

Did he, do you suppose...

leave anything we might use for expenses?

[Doorbell rings]

I've been dropped out.

I'm homeless.

Thought you'd been scrounging jumble.

HETTY: Have you stolen something?

Nothing.

Broken anything?

Not even wind, Mrs. Wainthropp.

Now then.

Never mind what he didn't do.

What did you do? Nothing.

You were right the first time.

It was what I wouldn't do.

Which was?

The landlady.

She was after me body.

Well, you can't go back.

He can't stay here.

I thought--

Of course he can stay.

For a bit.

He's exactly what we need.

No, he's not.

Till I sort meself out.

You and I, Robert, are going off on a trip,

if you remember,

to investigate the death of Uncle Albert.

You're really going to do it, then?

I never refuse a case.

And we'll need somebody

to look after the house

while we're away.

Oh, right. You're right.

Wouldn't you rather me come with you?

I am your assistant.

I could leave me bits and pieces here,

under the stairs.

He was Robert's uncle.

Oh.

House-minding.

It's a big responsibility.

It is!

MAN: His daughter's only too glad

for you to stay.

Apparently, Mr. Wainthropp,

you were his favorite nephew.

She said her father often spoke of you as a--

a gradely lad.

But you lost touch, apparently.

Huh.

Eh...

She'll have to sell the cottage,

of course,

but she'll come over first

to have a last look around.

She blames herself

for the old man's suicide,

but she has no cause.

She asked him to go and live with them

when his wife died,

but he refused to leave the village.

He was happy here?

He was used to it.

But you and I, Mrs. Wainthropp,

we know how it is.

The old resist change,

then they get lonely,

and it's very easy to despair.

No, it's not.

I don't hold with despair

in young or old.

I've no time for it at all.

Yeah. Well, uh, I'll be on my way.

Anyway, he wasn't old.

76, that's no age at all.

[Car engine starts]

Did you forget something heavy?

HETTY: Now, remember,

we're house-minders, just like Geoffrey.

Nobody must know I'm a detective.

I'll take the suitcase upstairs.

[Door closes]

Are you taking possession?

Have I had the pleasure?

I have to know--

name, number of persons,

relationship to the deceased.

You go on upstairs, Robert.

This lady must be from the Census Office.

I'll talk to her in the kitchen.

Now...

Who are you?

Have you got biscuits in that bag?

That's for me to know

and you to wait till you're offered.

Who are you?

Or a slice of bread and cheese?

I may lose me patience.

You're not asking the right way.

Ask me name, and I'll tell you.

What's your name?

Lottie Battersby.

Where do you live?

Number one, Bell Cottages, Badger Lane,

Readsby.

What day is it? Wednesday.

What's your birthday? August.

How old are you?

Can't remember.

There's biscuits in the bag.

Is the electricity connected,

do you happen to know?

Never mind.

Were you a close friend of Uncle Albert's?

We shared a lilac bush.

Why did he hang himself?

I've got backdoor key.

I can come and go as I like.

We should help each other

in this world.

She's eating all the bread, cheese,

and biscuits we brought with us.

Says she comes and goes in here

as she pleases.

I said she'd better come as we please

from now on,

but I'm not sure she took it in.

Wasn't there a bed under here

when you started? Don't!

You've got his 1949 jockstrap there.

Oh. Was it a good year for them?

Is this one worth air miles?

Shinpads.

His blood shed at Wembley

is on the underside of the one you're holding.

Robert, am I permitted to sit down or not?

Are we going to sleep in this bed tonight?

You don't understand.

Uncle Albert left me his football memorabilia.

It's a sacred trust.

[Sigh]

I was just sorting them out.

The bed will be free by tonight.

Ohh...

They took him straight from school.

He was only 17

when he played in First Division.

Then the war caught him.

He came back to the game in '46.

27 years old

and his great days all before him.

He must have made a bit of money, then...

though you'd never think it.

Oh, back in them days,

you didn't make big money

like they do now.

20 pounds a week, top wage,

and you had no share

of the transfer fees.

And he only got 7 years to make it

before his knee went.

Are you telling me

they cast him aside like a soiled glove?

Oh, I wouldn't say that.

Him and Aunt Em had enough

after his benefit season to buy this cottage,

and there was a local employer

only too proud to have Albert Bradshaw

working for him.

There was a pension, then?

Must have been.

So why did he have nothing to leave

but his football stuff and this cottage?

We'd better take a good look around.

[Cat meowing]

If that's his cat,

somebody's been feeding it.

That girl's turning the wrong way.

ROBERT: Every one a classic.

Ah, those were the great days.

Ginger Richardson, "My Story."

No ornaments.

"12 goals in 5 minutes..."

Somebody's been dusting.

"November 1931."

Everything's so rundown.

There's scorch marks all over this rug

from coals that fell out of the fire.

It's a first edition.

Was there a second?

Eddie Hapgood, "Football Ambassador."

"Stanley Matthews, The Authorized Biography,"

Tom Finney.

That's funny.

Tom Finney? Never made me laugh.

This has naught to do with football.

Show me.

Oh, there's a page dropped out.

Must have been loose.

That's not a page dropped out.

Somebody drew that and put it in.

Witches with Satan in the middle.

Was your Uncle Albert artistic?

No.

He used to take the plate around in church.

That's very interesting.

I can feel the little gray cells

beginning to stir.

There's just one question

preys on me mind.

If Loopy Lottie next door

ate all our food,

what have we got for supper?

HETTY: Nothing?

No wheatmeal, wholemeal, rye,

or harvest grain?

Not even white sliced with added India rubber?

No cobs? Baps? Teacakes?

Bridge rolls?

All bread has to be ordered!

You're telling me

nobody ever buys on a whim in Readsby?

You don't understand Lancashire folk.

You're a foreigner, aren't you?

Nah.

Birmingham. It's hardly Acapulco.

Well, what kind of a shop are you?

You've got corn dollies outside,

but no bread and fresh vegetables inside.

Corn dollies don't go stale, Madam.

They're made on the premises by my wife,

and the profit margin is enormous.

Ha ha! But you never sell any.

Well, you try running a village shop,

and see how quick your hard-earned savings

rot on the shelves, unsold.

This lady wouldn't be conversant

with the problems of microeconomics

in a consumer-led society.

This consumer's husband

has become foolishly attached

to the idea of food for his supper,

and most of what we brought with us

has been eaten by our next-door neighbor.

How often do the buses go into town?

Ha ha ha!

The next is on Tuesday.

Ask a silly question...

There's unraised pork pies at the butcher's!

I've seen that face before somewhere.

Local paper.

"Evening Record."

Not long after we got here.

Tracey...

Don't put "Mary Poppins" among the horror videos.

I like to keep the categories separate.

WOMAN: It was a photo.

Now, what was it about?

Oh, it'll come to me.

I never forget a face.

Oh.

Oh.

Everything running down.

[Cat meowing]

The vicar's shared between 5 parishes.

Aunt Em made all these scrapbooks.

Pasted in all his matches,

his whole career.

There's a smell of death in the village.

All right.

The smell of death, Robert.

MAN: Yes, this'll do.

Circle there.

Flaming torches on spikes,

but we don't want them too close to the trees.

Now, then...

what are we gonna do for the sacrificial stone?

Well, there's a stone sink

in the vicarage garden.

It's full of owl pies,

but we could take them out.

We'll need a wheelbarrow.

"Wheelbarrow."

GIRL: The cat run away.

Well, it would!

That woman who came into the shop,

she's a private detective.

I knew it would come to me.

There's no bus till Tuesday.

[Beeping]

What's that noise?

Noise? What noise?

Isn't it clear from your end?

[Rock music playing]

HETTY: Geoffrey?

I think my toast is nearly ready,

Mrs. Wainthropp.

I'm gonna have to ring you back.

You can't ring me back!

[Doorbell ringing]

Oh. Hello, Mom.

I'll be back.

How's he getting on?

Like a house on fire.

Now, there must be somebody with a car,

part-time taxi.

You can make a bolt for civilization,

get us some proper food.

It's better for me to hang on here

and ask questions, anyway.

No.

I see.

Bad this morning?

We'll go and have a word

with Mr. Plod.

Before he sets out in his panda.

I want you to come home.

I've left home.

I'm on my own now.

I'm in responsible employment

of public importance.

You're still my boy.

Come home, Geoffrey.

Since your dad left...

I can't live alone.

It's wrong to force me.

You'd better come in.

Aspects of this case puzzle me.

Why a football game?

He was going to kill himself, Mrs. Wainthropp.

He put on the clothes that he was happiest in

long ago.

[Humming]

There was a postmortem?

Always is.

Was he suffering any terminal diseases,

did they find out? Cancer?

Dog eggs. I don't know where you get them from.

They're murder to get rid of.

No terminal diseases of any kind.

For a man of his age,

he was in excellent health.

And he didn't leave a note?

No note was found.

You don't think that's strange?

The reasons that people have

for killing themselves

are their own business.

They're not a proper subject

for police inquiry.

Darlington 3, Manchester City 2...

Is Mr. Wainthropp all right?

It's called grieving, Constable.

We all have our own way of doing it.

...Bolton 1.

[Mrs. Shawcross singing]

� There's no place like home �

[Loud whirring]

Could he have been dead already

and hung up there to be found?

Turn that thing off!

I'm not at me best solving murders

when somebody's trying to launch

their biological stains into orbit!

[Whirring slows]

Medical evidence was clear.

The drop killed him.

He took his life

while the balance of his mind

was disturbed.

Ah!

Nobody's mind is perfectly balanced

all the time,

and elderly people...

Do what?

Become forgetful? Selfish?

Easily frightened? Revert to childhood?

Spill food? Don't wash?

It doesn't add up to insanity.

Life's too good to throw away,

particularly when you've managed

76 years on this earth already.

You've got a nice little garden out the back.

You've been working on it, haven't you?

So did he!

That's what you do with life--

use it, enjoy it, live it!

It's spitting in the face of God

to chuck in the towel before full time.

ROBERT: Acrinton Stanley...

I can't remember.

[Man talking on police radio]

Oh, just one more question.

We found a book.

"The Witches of Readsby."

That's this village.

Have you got witches here?

She makes it sound like mice.

CONSTABLE: There was witches

all over Lancashire in the old days.

All those old women hanged at Pendle

in 16-something or other.

Hanged. Yes.

But nowadays,

there's just not the interest.

I see.

Were you born here, Constable?

No. I'm from Blackburn.

You're never sent for duty in your own area.

My wife...

she's local.

[Car door closes]

HETTY: She's got a visitor.

Lady's bag.

You go back in.

I'd like to see who visits Looney Lottie

and why.

WOMAN: And you're dear old Albert's niece,

is it?

HETTY: In-law.

He was my husband's uncle.

Such a sad, unnecessary loss.

I blame myself, Mrs. Wainthropp.

Why?

I should have known.

I come in most days to see the old dears.

That's what I always call them,

"my old dears."

It's up to the village community

to care for those in need.

Was Uncle Albert in need?

He had his pension.

In need of company.

Concern, Mrs. Wainthropp.

Some want to share.

Upstairs, quickly!

[Grunts]

I'd rather you didn't mention this

to anyone, if you don't mind.

Does this happen often?

No, not really.

But the old dears get so frightened, you see.

What of?

The cottage hospital in Ackersly,

the old folks' home in Walton le Dale.

Nobody ever comes back from either.

[Chuckles]

At least, that's what they believe.

So they struggle on.

They're frightened of people knowing

they can't cope.

Taps left running, flooding the floor;

coals dropping out of the fire,

setting fire to the hearth rug;

knocking themselves out.

Some of them are a little absent-minded--

Lottie, especially so.

But it doesn't add up to senility.

One covers for them as long as one can.

It's not a reason for suicide.

Indeed, no.

Anyway, Uncle Albert could cope.

Yes, he could.

You get about a bit in the village,

visiting your old dears and such.

Heh.

The parish council, the flower show, the W.V.S.,

and I collect for charity.

My word. [Chuckle]

Yes, I'm quite a busybody.

Long ago, when I dropped a hymnbook

or miscounted the collection,

my father would say,

"Marian, if you can't be a practical Christian,

"join the devil

and undermine his work instead."

Uncle Albert had a book,

witchcraft.

You've not come across anything like that

in Readsby?

Good gracious, no.

It's hard enough

to get them to come to church.

Did you make this yourself?

Oh, it's very good, Hannah.

It really is very good.

And the garlands.

Lilian did them.

She found some half-priced silk flowers

at the co-op.

Oh. Enough to do the design, then?

Yeah, plenty.

It's the stinkweed I couldn't find.

It can be difficult.

Luckily, I do have a source.

Now, what else? Sacrificial knife.

Alan's bringing his own down from the butcher's.

Sacrifice?

It'll be there.

A goat?

From the organic dairy.

I would have liked to have had one

from Readsby,

but needs must when the devil drives.

[Laughter]

Any better?

It comes in gusts.

This can't go on.

I--I'd best go on, love.

I'm no use to you here.

We'll both go.

Witchcraft.

I'm clutching at straws.

He was an old man. He was lonely.

He killed himself.

End of story.

You can't give up.

"Childhood hero."

You've never shown any interest in football.

I followed football regular before I met you.

Are you suggesting--

Hear me out, love.

1946-53. Uncle Albert's great days.

I worshipped him.

1948, Cup Tie at Wembley.

99,000 attendants,

and I were there in the best seats

with Aunt Em and my brother Frank.

1952-53.

He did his leg in. It were never right after.

'53-54, his last season.

Crystal Palace at home. They booed him.

His own fans booed him.

I had gone to the match with me mates.

I booed with the others.

He can't have known that.

I knew.

I stayed away after.

I expect he thought I were ashamed of him.

I were ashamed of meself.

What do you want me to do?

Put me mind at rest.

Here it is.

FA Cup presentation ceremony.

Uncle Albert got his medal with the rest--

18-carat gold--

and he let me hold it.

Oh, they were heroes in them days.

Hang on.

You what?

Where's that medal now?

He kept everything.

All the memorabilia--

boots, jockstraps, shinpads.

You said yourself

the very blood that he shed at Wembley

was on those pads.

Where's that gold medal?

He must have sold it.

Why would he need money that badly?

Got it! What?

Pawn ticket!

You'll go on with the case, then?

I want Geoffrey here by tomorrow morning.

There's no bus till Tuesday.

Tell him to borrow the scooter

from that friend of his.

If he can't, he can cycle 30 miles.

They think nothing of that

in the Tour de France.

Now, you'll be in our own bed by tonight.

I'll miss that.

Don't forget.

When you reach Ackersly,

before you get the bus home,

look for the 3 brass balls

and see who pawned that medal.

I'll phone this evening,

at home, about 6:00.

Will this taxi make it as far as Ackersly,

do you think, in this condition?

Well, it always has done.

There's always got to be a first time, though.

You're a detective.

How do you know that?

Everyone in the village knows by now.

You can't come in, Mr. Wainthropp,

without I talk to you first.

It was me that found him.

How come?

We were doing a project at school.

The village school?

Only the little ones go to the village school.

We're at the comprehensive

at Ackersly...

when we bother to go.

What sort of project?

We never had them in my day.

Social studies.

Care for an old person for a month,

and then write a dissertation.

Stupid.

You can't stop after a month.

No, of course you can't,

but I expect some did.

We learned our tables

and the kings and queens of England.

Probably did less damage.

I used to come around most days--

darn his socks,

do a bit of shopping,

talk about the old times.

Well, he'd talk. I listened.

Miss Horner came round most days, too, she said.

We never overlapped.

He didn't like her.

You're reading my book?

I lied.

It wasn't the landlady

at the Baden-Powell building

who was making a pass at me.

It was my mother.

She'd found out where I was living.

She comes around, she won't leave me.

She's on at me all the time

to go back home.

Some parents turn their children out.

I won't go back, Mr. Wainthropp.

Since me dad walked out, it's--

it's just too heavy.

Oh.

Well, I'll tell you what.

You don't have to live with her,

but you should visit sometimes.

If you never visit folk when they're alive...

you'll feel bad when they die.

There's a drawing in it.

Satan.

I did that.

I thought it might be his.

Something he left, like a note.

He never left a note.

They asked me. I'd have seen it.

Why did you give him a book about witches?

Well, we were talking about it,

and he was interested.

It's the old religion, isn't it?

Never died out.

Better than ours in some ways.

What ways?

Women in control.

[Door closes]

I suppose you and me

ought to have a bit of a conflab.

[Telephone ringing]

Oh. That'll be Hetty.

HETTY: We can't be long!

There's somebody waiting!

Was the medal there?

Aye.

He wouldn't part with it, though.

The time's gone by.

Says he's a football aficionado.

I reckon it was the 18-carat gold.

Who brought it in?

He can't remember,

and he wouldn't show me

his record book.

Says it's confidential.

Nil desperandum.

Doing a bit of detecting,

are you?

You have nice weather for it.

He'll visit.

Promise?

Not up to me to promise.

He's promised.

It's a proper job, missis.

With prospects?

There's honest prospects.

Walpurgis Night.

[Laughter]

[Geoffrey panting]

Oh, food!

Mr. Wainthropp sent it.

We've a lot to do, Geoffrey.

Done a lot already.

I've cycled 33 miles,

mostly uphill, with that French stick

knocking a dent in my chin.

That's nothing to a lad of your age.

Why didn't you borrow your friend's scooter?

I couldn't. It was in use.

Ohh.

Brass rubbing in the Cotswolds.

You'd better have a bite to eat,

and then we'll set off.

I watched two people cross that field

with an old stone sink in a wheelbarrow.

That has to mean something.

Mmm.

There's been times these past two days

I could have killed for spring onions

and crusty bread.

There's something strange about this village.

You know there were witches here.

There were witches all over Lancashire.

They confessed to congress with Satan.

They had meetings, Sabbaths.

They had familiar spirits-- cats, mostly.

It's all in this book, "The Witches of Readsby."

Mrs. Wainthropp,

it's me you send to the reference library.

I do the books.

Listen, and you may learn something.

It's beginning to add up.

Small things.

Corn dollies sold at the general store.

Girls in the street spinning widdershins.

That's anticlockwise, the way witches spin.

A cat that's everywhere, almost as if it's human,

and they all take it for granted.

A church neglected.

Where's it going?

There's no doubt

that the old man committed suicide.

There's no getting away from that.

But tonight is Walpurgis Night.

[Door opens]

[Silverware clanks]

You saw the food arrive?

All right.

This is Lottie from next door.

Hello.

Cut her a piece of bread, will you,

Geoffrey, please?

I'm gonna pop in in a moment

to make sure you've not

left the bath running again.

LOTTIE: Old ladies my age

don't have baths,

unless there's someone sanding by

to fish us out.

Then why was the...

Never mind.

Who's the Queen of England?

HETTY: Wet.

Let's go round.

Have a look at this.

Looks like a hanging tree.

Shouldn't we go and tell the police?

There are 3 reasons why not, Geoffrey.

One, he won't be back till this evening.

Two, there's still religious freedom

in this country,

and unless they actually hang somebody,

they're not committing a criminal offense.

And 3...

I'm not sure his wife isn't one of them.

We won't take any risks.

We'll black our faces

and hide.

We'll be back here by midnight.

Then we'll see what we see.

[Drumming and chanting]

[Shouting]

[Baas]

[Laughter]

[Drumming stops]

MAN: Have you heard the body

that steals the bread and hides behind the door?

Some say that Satan is dead and buried and cold.

Satan!

ALL: Satan!

DIFFERENT MAN: Welcome, my children,

Welcome.

Feast...and fornicate.

Fornicate!

But first, I shall require due sacrifice.

ALL: Sacrifice!

[All talking at once]

Sacrifice! Sacrifice!

Let the chosen virgin come forth.

Virgin.

I may have to interfere.

But you can't.

SATAN: Do you give this child to me unconditionally?

I do.

Has she been soothed with the juice of poppies?

She has.

Is she unsullied and unblemished,

pure in thought, word, and deed?

She is.

ALL: Sacrifice.

We can't have this.

It must be stopped...now.

[Crying]

Shh. Shh.

She's not supposed to cry.

Don't shout at her like that.

Go back to the village.

Go straight to the policeman's house.

I'll hold them somehow

till he gets here.

OK.

[Crying]

HETTY: All right!

That's enough!

You can stop this at once.

I won't have it!

Freedom of worship is one thing--

no objection to that.

But you lot are going too far.

My advice to you would be

to make yourselves scarce

quick as you can.

The police are already informed

and on their way.

[Laughter]

Don't you laugh at me.

Don't dare laugh at me!

I'm a fully qualified private detective,

well-known in the West Lancashire area,

with an advert in the yellow pages.

[Laughter]

I've got connections!

Of course you have...

Mrs. Wainthropp.

[Laughter]

Cut!

All right! Cut it there!

Set up to go again from Satan's entrance.

I'll talk to her.

Now, I don't care which comes first, madam,

an explanation or an apology.

Both are due.

It's not up to me to explain myself

or apologize.

I'm not engaged in satanic practices.

There have been no satanic practices

here, madam.

No human being or animal has been or will be hurt.

This little girl was crying.

She was terrified.

She was crying because the stinkweed in the garlands

brings her out in a rash.

Antihistamine cream, however, has been provided.

Now, don't try and soft-soap me.

I talked to Hannah.

She told me about the old religion.

Oh, yes.

She's a very intelligent girl.

[All murmur agreement]

She will go a long way.

She's studied the whole subject.

She wrote most of the script.

You see, madam,

what you've just blundered into, madam,

is the making of a community video,

"The Witches of Readsby," in aid...

of muscular dystrophy.

[All chattering]

Now, if you wish to satisfy yourself,

you are welcome to stay and watch,

but please,

don't interrupt again.

[All talking at once]

Ready when you are, Mr. De Mille!

[Drumming]

[Man shouting]

I've made some tea.

Oh...

just set it down, please.

Ha! Jumping to conclusions.

You've always jumped, Mrs. Wainthropp.

I was supposed to be a grieving relative,

not a detective,

but I blundered about,

cross-examining everything in sight.

Nobody was deceived--

laughing at me behind their hands.

Even Looney Lottie next door was--

even--

Mrs. Wainthropp.

[Exhales deeply]

Walked me over the wallflowers.

You what?

"Old ladies my age don't have baths

"unless there's somebody there

to fish us out."

And these scorch marks on the hearth rug.

But Uncle Albert could cope, she said.

Are you all right in yourself, Mrs. Wainthropp?

Ha ha ha! A fool!

A fool! I've been a fool!

Yes, Mrs. Wainthropp.

Well, don't agree with me.

Do you think it's too late

to go next door and talk to Lottie now?

HETTY: When I came over to see you,

a Miss Horner was there--

the day the bath ran over.

Do you remember that?

Did Miss Horner go upstairs

just before I arrived?

What day is it? Saturday?

Right!

Saturday today.

Thursday then.

Did Miss Horner go upstairs?

Who's the Queen of England?

I'll put it another way.

Is Miss Horner always with you

when bad things happen?

Water overflows, the cooker's left on.

Do these things ever happen

when she's not there?

Most days, she comes to see us,

Albert Bradshaw and me--

Albert first, then me.

Albert first?

Did she come the day he hanged himself?

Did Miss Horner come to see you that day

and go in to see Albert first,

as she always did?

Are you taking possession?

Did you give her money, Lottie?

[Sobbing]

[Whimpers]

I thought so.

How many other old dears in the village

did Miss Horner visit most days?

I shall need the names, Lottie.

[Meow]

8 of them!

Your old dears!

Desperate to stay in their own homes!

Terrified of dying unnoticed,

out of sight, and out of mind

in the old folks' home!

But you were their friend.

Visited nearly every day,

protected them,

taught them what they must always know

to keep out of the funny farm.

"What day is it? Where do you live?

Who's the Queen of England?"

Excuse me.

And when waters flooded the floor...

and bottoms were burned out of pans

and coals set fire to carpets,

you were there to cover up,

except that these things didn't happen

when you weren't there.

You're jumping to conclusions, Mrs. Wainthropp.

I always have done.

It's the gray cells working overtime.

I'll jump on.

You took money from your old dears,

Miss Horner.

Easy to do.

Everyone knew you collected for charity.

You didn't take much.

They couldn't afford much,

but it all added up,

and more from Uncle Albert

because of his pension.

Then you went too far--

his gold medal.

He daren't accuse you in public.

Too dangerous, he thought,

they'll never believe him.

Lost his marbles. Away with him.

So he dressed up in his football gear

to remind people they owed him some respect,

and he wrote a note, and he hanged himself.

But you came along, as you always did,

took the note before anyone else found him,

and then went on into Lottie.

I came here.

I came to pray.

Lottie found me here.

Admit it.

[Chuckle]

You prove it.

I don't have to prove it.

This is a small village.

There are no secrets.

[Door closes]

It's a Sopwith Camel.

HETTY: So what's it doing in our spare room?

Why...

I thought it would interest Geoffrey.

It does.

I put it together for our Derek

when he won his swimming certificate.

You can do the breaststroke for half a mile,

I take it.

She knows damn well what I'm trying to say

is that you--

you're welcome to use this room

till you get back on your feet.

Thank you, Mr. Wainthropp.

When business improves,

we'll decide what's a fair rent.

[Car engine idling]