Original subtitles

Welcome to the BBC Home Service.

This week, my guest on Memory Lane Melodies is Mrs Octavia Eden, who I

describe as the Pablo Picasso of flower arranging.

Would you, darling?

That's so sweet of you.

Owner of a chain of flower shops.

You could call it a daisy chain.

And a mainstay of the London social scene.

So it came as a surprise this week when she announced that she was moving to the

sleepy English village of Kembleford.

And, well, the question we all must be asking is, why?

Well, I suppose it gives my life a certain symmetry.

I was born in Kembleford, and now I'm going to die there.

Well, hopefully that won't be for some time to come. Oh, no, darling. The

doctors have told me there's nothing they can do for me.

I should be around for St.

Ferdinand's Day, but I probably won't meet me for months.

Mind that Ming vase, please. That's travelled 6 ,000 miles to be here.

And be very careful with that violin.

It was a gift from Yehudi Menuhin.

Do you not think she's doing too much? Yes, I do.

Oh,

Father, she's so magnificent.

She's done the flowers for three royal weddings.

And she had a tulip named after her.

I understand she's written an autobiography.

Yes, thank you for reminding me.

Oh, I bought a copy of it.

And oh, what a life she's had.

I'd love to get her to sign it, but she does seem awfully busy.

Oh, well, I think that can be arranged.

Who's it for?

Isabel Devine.

And I'm Father Brown.

Octavia Eden.

Hello, everyone.

Oh, it's so sweet to be back in Kenfelford.

Now she's bringing out her clothes.

Why does she need so many hats? She's only got one head.

Well, I suppose as a very successful woman, she must get enough to open lots

things.

Shop and hospital.

She's going to need plenty of hats for all of that.

Apparently, she's turning the manor into a flower school.

Oh, we'll have giggling schoolgirls from morning till night.

It's really nice that she's bringing some life into the place. We had some

times there.

So now you add a few stems of sweet William.

This one.

Mm -hm. Mm -hm.

Oh, no, careful you don't obscure the astromere.

Why would he ever want to do this?

You were invited for dinner and you wanted to bring a nice bouquet.

I live next door to a graveyard.

Perhaps Miss Palmer does not have any sympathy for arranged flowers.

Each to their own.

Oh, well.

Mrs Eden has invited us round to her music and movement class tomorrow,

including you, Father Brown. Really?

Mm -hmm.

I thought with her illness she'd be much frailer, but she does seem in very fine

fettle.

You're right.

Still in one piece.

Unlike my porcelain collection.

Auntie. Oh, Noelle.

I'm glad you're here. We really must discuss this business of my legacy.

Well, surely, as your only daughter, I... You will be well provided for. But

will inherit the family firm?

Who will ensure that 40 years of hard graft don't end up on the compost heap?

So, I've set you a series of tests.

Oh, yeah?

Number one, I'm having a little party. I want to meet the neighbours.

And I want you to make the drinks.

Now, they must consist entirely of botanical ingredients.

You know, jasmine gin or wildflower whiskey, that sort of thing.

And whoever creates the most delectable selection is the winner.

But I don't even drink alcohol.

And Lizzie knows all about herbs and botanical ingredients.

And you need to work ten times harder.

Now, music and movement.

This is awfully jolly.

Yeah, if you like that sort of thing.

Hello. Good morning.

Father Brown, I'm so glad you came.

I didn't want you to feel left out. Thank you.

Although I don't think I'll be limbering up.

You can always work the gramophone.

Bless you.

That's that hay fever back again.

Are you taking those pills?

Now, do be careful, because this was a present from Daddy. I will take the

utmost care.

Mrs Malt.

What a surprise.

Yes. I hope you don't mind, but I used to live here, and I was curious to see

the garden. Perfect timing.

Please, do join us.

There you go.

All right, everybody. Morning.

Now, find a space where you can all stretch out.

Excellent. And take a deep breath.

Music, please. Music.

Thank you.

And follow me. And up and round and up and

round. Marjorie!

What were you thinking?

Mrs. Mulch, you have a mind of your own.

You're more than welcome to stay with us.

So sorry about your gramophone.

Well, you didn't smash it. Oh, well, we'll just have to proceed without

Darling, don't let it upset you.

We've got all these guests to entertain, and we've got a party to organise.

Now, come on.

All right, let's try again.

Now, get ready, arms out, stretch.

and I'm so looking forward to being part of your charming community.

Now, do help yourself to liquid refreshments, and please tell me which

prefer.

Apparently, Father, this one is rum infused with rhubarb.

Oh, I can taste the rhubarb.

And is that a hint of hibiscus flower?

You have an awfully good palate.

It's hibiscus subdifera from my very own herb garden in London.

Inspector, will you try one of these interesting concoctions?

Well, probably best not.

Oh, come on.

You're not on duty.

Well, sadly, I always appear to be on duty, but do tell me about them.

Now do.

This one is vodka flavoured with orange blossom.

It kind of tastes like pond water.

I'd kind of agree.

And get rid of these blooms.

Wake up.

Oh, it's me.

God bless you.

Thank you.

Mrs Munch.

Oh, Father.

I'm so sorry about my husband's behaviour.

There's no need to apologise.

John just doesn't like...

Now he's made a fuss and got it out of his system. I'm sure things will

Mr. Malt, are you all right? John?

Why, Archery, why?

In nomine Patris, in fili, in spiritus sancti.

Amen.

On this occasion...

I think we can both agree on the simple truth, Father.

I've searched for the truth my whole life, and it is never simple.

Well, it appears he was poisoned, and as we both saw him arrive, it must have

happened at home.

I prefer to reserve my judgment on that.

Father, his last words condemn her.

Mrs Mulch. Yes?

Would you accompany me to the station?

First thing this morning, I gave him his porridge, made with water and a pinch

of silk.

Did he seem unwell at this point?

He was grumbling about not having slept and a terrible pain in his guts, but

that's not unusual.

Yes, would it be fair to say your husband had a temper on him?

He was just sad.

Life passing him by.

All of his dreams flipping away.

But he really wasn't a bad man.

And then he dragged you home from the manor the other day, causing that

He could sometimes be a little firm.

But I never fought back.

He's my husband.

He was your husband.

Do you know of anyone who gave him anything to eat or drink recently?

Not that I know of.

Then I'm afraid you leave me no choice.

Marjorie Mulch, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of John Mulch.

You're not obliged to say anything, but anything you say may be given in

evidence.

Mrs Mulch, how are you bearing up?

I feel like I'm in a bad dream, Father.

I'm sorry to have to ask you this.

Are you responsible for the death of your husband?

No.

Although I have been tempted down the years.

John could start an argument in an empty room.

Have there been any recent altercations?

Well, there was something.

I thought I'd imagined it, but I woke up in the middle of the night last night.

And I thought I heard voices outside.

I found it like John arguing with a woman.

Did you hear any of the words that were spoken?

No.

It was just a blur.

But I did hear a sneeze.

Sorry.

That's not very useful, is it? No.

On the contrary, that is most useful.

I can assure you, Marjorie, that I will find out who is responsible for your

husband's death and you will walk out of here with your head held high.

Here you are, Mother.

Oh, thank you, darling.

Please don't.

Don't what?

Stare at me as if I'm about to die.

I actually feel quite well today.

I'm sorry.

It's just seeing that poor man.

I know he wasn't the nicest of people.

Oh, Noelle, we were just talking about Mr Mulch's death, and it's given me an

idea for your second task.

I want you both to create a wreath.

Poor Mrs Mulch won't be able to arrange anything.

Splendid. I'll get on to it.

You're using a man's death for your competition.

Darling, there are two types of florist in this world.

Ruthless money -grabbing mercenaries and unsuccessful ones.

You need to work out which camp you're in.

Who is it?

Oh, Father Bra.

Good afternoon.

I thought I'd pay you a visit.

See how you all are after the unfortunate ending to your garden party.

Yes, well, we're all still reeling.

Of course.

You must surely have known Mr Mulch from Kembleford all those years ago.

I can't say I do remember him. It was such a long time ago.

Seems like another world.

Looking back...

Father Brown, my mother is not well and I don't think she's ready to receive

guests.

Miss Sharma, may we talk?

How long have you lived with your aunt?

25 years.

She asked me to move in when my mother died and I've never looked back.

So it must be a great shock to see her so unwell.

It is.

In my line of work, I'm always arranging flowers for funerals.

And it's only just hit me that one day I'll have to make a wreath.

Everyone is so fond of her.

Except the late Mr Mulch.

We barely knew him.

And yet, in the middle of last night, I think you went round to see him.

Someone heard you sneezing.

I was in bed when I heard a noise.

Someone moving through the house, creeping about downstairs.

I came down to the dining room and someone had opened up Auntie Octavia's

bureau.

What did you do?

I looked outside and there he was, heading across the garden.

So I followed him to his house and told him never to darken our door again.

Why did you not call the police?

My aunt is very fragile.

She doesn't need any unnecessary stress at the moment.

I'm surprised there are so many people.

Probably come to check he's really dead.

Marjorie, you have my condolences. Thank you.

Thank you for the flowers.

They're so beautiful.

You're welcome.

He has good reason to be grateful.

Your wreath is quite magnificent.

All the airy tracery of the willow herb is just sublime.

Thank you.

And Noel, yours, so stark, with the wheat and the teasel and the deep purple

hellebore.

On reflection, I think... I think yours says more about the man himself. He's

very prickly.

So you're the winner.

Congratulations.

Now, I have some errands to attend to, so I'll see you both later.

How strange.

Miss Palmer.

Yes? Follow that florist.

Okay. I know I'm holding an hammer, but I didn't smash that window.

Right. Who did, then? Don't tell me.

Dame Nellie Melville was passing by. You fancied her things on?

No. It was her.

Mrs Eden. She had an hammer in her handbag.

Where is she now, then?

I don't know.

She must have scarped it.

Right. Well, Miss Palmer, I think it's time for you to scarf her.

Right down to the police station.

Father Brown, as a man of God, you have a remarkable gift of leading people

astray. I apologise, Chief Inspector.

I peremptorily told Miss Palmer to follow someone. I had no idea she would

follow them onto private property.

We're sorry for wasting your precious time.

And if you were to release her, I won't let her out of my life, I promise.

Well, you're in luck, Mrs Divine, as we're rather short of cells.

Follow me.

Any news on cause of death?

Yes, there is, Father.

Mr Maltz died of aconite poisoning.

Aconite? It's a botanical toxin.

Unusual thing for Mrs Maltz to have in her possession.

On the contrary, it's easily extracted from wolf's bane, a plant which grows

over the Cotswolds, including Mrs. Motch's back garden.

Sergeant, see me in my office.

And as a result, Father, she's just been charged with murder.

Oh, you're back.

How was the funeral?

It was fine.

But people were surprised when you walked out before it began.

Oh, I'm sorry. It's difficult going to funerals. Oh, Mother, if I could swap

with you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Well, you can't, so don't go on about

And it's time for your final task.

I want you to organise a wake.

Who? Mine. I think the idea is one doesn't get to go to one's own wake. I

want an evening that's all about me with flowers and flamboyance, music and

magic. You can have one half of the ballroom and you the other.

And whoever wins, wins everything.

I'm telling you.

She had an hammer.

A hammer in her handbag.

Florists frequently use hammers to pulverize the stems of their blooms.

Oh, I stand corrected.

Mrs Eden is going to be reading her book later at the Camberford Ladies'

Society. Then you must go along and try and find out why she left Camberford all

those years ago.

And what will you be up to?

Burglary.

There is no way I'm going back in there again.

No, I need you to stand guard.

What are you after?

Whatever Mrs Eden was after.

But my path through life has been lined with bluebells and buddleia.

I hold my head up high and kiss the rain.

Thank you, everyone. And now, Mrs Eden will be happy to answer any questions.

Any relevant questions, that is, about the book.

Hello? Yes. I was so moved by the passage in Chapter 1 where you

describe walking through the streets of London, lost and alone, until a little

buttercup poking through the pavement inspires you to carry on.

Thank you. Yes, I was quite pleased with that. But why exactly were you so sad?

Oh, it was the usual. I came to London full of dreams and discovered that the

streets really weren't paved with gold. So there wasn't something more specific?

No. So if there are no further questions, thank you. It's just you were

very happy time of it in Kembleford at the beginning of the chapter.

And suddenly you're so full of woe. Yes, because I had my heart broken. I was

eaten up and chewed and spat up.

Thank you, everyone. And now my mother will be signing copies in the vestibule.

Every single drawer has been rifled.

Well, did you find anything?

No.

But I expect Mrs Eden did.

What are those doing there?

They're rose petals.

Probably fell off a rose bush.

No roses grow in this garden.

So how did they get here?

Mrs Eden.

Oh, Father Brown.

I still, thank God, I can get down on my knees to plant things.

But sometimes I need human help to get up again. Oh!

Thank you.

Lizzie doesn't like the gardening.

She thinks I should lie down in a darkened room.

But I think it's vital.

A society...

grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never

in. I agree.

And it's important to hand on knowledge.

May I have a word?

Of course.

Take a pew.

You know, when I was a girl, I used to walk past

this place on my way to school.

It seemed like a fairy tale castle.

And sitting here now, I almost expect to wake up seven years old, my mother

calling me.

And if you did wake up as a child, would you live your life differently?

Oh, no.

No. I'd make the same mistakes again, but with even more relish.

What about John Mulch?

Is he a mistake?

I assume you were lovers.

Goodness.

For a man who must renounce worldly pleasures, you're surprisingly worldly

And your answer?

Yes.

I loved him more than life itself.

We were together six months.

But then he met Marjorie, whose father owned the manor.

Well, frankly, he married the house.

Until he realised it was rather high maintenance.

And that was why you left Kembleford?

Yes.

Because I couldn't stop crying from morning till night.

And at least in London, the noise was drowned out by the traffic.

This morning, you broke into John Maltese's house.

What were you searching for?

Oh, I don't know what I was looking for. A love letter, some

record of the feelings he might have had.

What did you find?

Nothing.

His childhood diary was full of cricket scores.

His heart must have been made of ice.

It caused you immense pain.

Did you ever wish to take revenge on him?

No. Yes.

For 30 years, I thought of burning this place down, destroying John and the

thing he loved most.

But then I realized, whilst he was struggling to pay heating bills, I

had become a rather wealthy woman.

Really? You couldn't ask for sweeter revenge?

Mrs Eden and Mr Mulch?

I don't want to think about that.

Then don't, Miss Palmer.

But I wonder, did Mrs Mulch know about their relationship?

Oh, you know that rose petal that he gave me?

Did you find a match?

No, but I did find this book.

With pictures of flowers in it. That belongs to Mrs Eden.

Mrs Eden's daughter.

I've seen her consulting me. Well, it doesn't belong to you.

I'll return it forthwith.

But first, there's a little trick with a book.

If you let it fall open naturally, it will show you which page has been most

frequently used.

I'm always consulting the poison section.

When you scour the hedgerows, as I do, you need to know if the plant you're

picking is poisonous.

Oh, I see.

Though many plants are toxic if taken to excess.

Caffeine, curare, even aspirin.

These things will cure us or kill us.

So, it would be fair to say that you keep poisonous substances in your

chest?

Colchicum autumnali, autum crocus. Now, this is a very effective cure for gout,

but if you double the dose, you kill both the gout and the person suffering

it.

But actinitum napalus, that's another plant toxin, isn't it? Yes, I think I

some of that somewhere.

Half empty.

This is the poison that finished off Mr Mulch.

I didn't like the man, but he would have been very suspicious if I'd offered him

something to eat or drink.

We weren't exactly the best of chums.

Could anyone else have borrowed your apothecary kit?

No.

No, this is for my use only.

Mimosa?

I must have mimosa.

Noel, what are you doing?

I'm recreating the bouquet Auntie Octavia had at her wedding.

I was going to do that.

Oh, well, now you won't have to bother.

This is ridiculous.

Mother is dying, and she's got us running around in circles playing these

games. Well, you could always just...

If I do win control of the business, I'd find a position for you somewhere.

How did you become so cold and hard and unfeeling?

I learned a while ago that a thing has to be firm to survive.

I remember when you came to live with us.

Oh,

you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

You were just like Mother.

And that meant I could be me.

worked out for you.

Noelle? Yes?

What would happen if we refused to compete and joined forces to give Mother

best party of her life?

She could disown us.

Would that be so bad?

To work together?

And be friends again?

Father, have you found out who did this?

Not yet.

Mrs Mulch, your husband's past came back to haunt him.

Many years ago, he had a relationship with Octavia Eden.

Did you know there was someone else before you?

Yes.

I knew there was someone.

But John could never talk about his feelings.

Then one day I found a note in his study.

What did it say?

It was a long time ago, but... I remember every word.

I've lost the baby.

Now I'll be out of your life forever.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas?

Yes.

Oh, thank you, everyone, for coming.

Some time ago, my doctors told me I had a growth.

This... surprised me, as it wasn't the growing season.

Naturally, I have made arrangements, and my family have been arranging my

funeral. Now, I didn't want to miss that, so I asked for a sneak preview.

Lizzie, Noel, this is quite wonderful.

Now, I don't want any sadness or frowns. I just want you all to

enjoy the champagne.

Cheers.

I hear you've been to see Mrs Mulch

again, Father.

Yes, I have.

As much as I would love her to be innocent, her husband was poisoned.

and she is the only person who made his meals.

This is exquisite.

My very first shop.

Who is responsible for what?

Well, Mother, I hope you won't be too cross, but we hated having to be at war.

We decided to make peace, and we did all of this together.

Oh, darling, that's just what I wanted you to do.

You... You've been fighting for so long now and I don't know whether it's

jealousy or fear of what might happen when I'm gone, but you're better as a

pair. You need each other.

Oh, I think I need to sit down.

Could you catch me a chair?

Oh.

What is the name of Mrs. Eaton's book?

A Rose Amongst the Thorns?

Yes.

Yes.

Miss Sharma.

Might I have a private word?

Yes,

Father, this way.

Please, I can't be too long.

Auntie Octavia's very ill.

You've been very loyal, helping her return to her roots.

A happy homecoming.

Apart from the appearance of one man.

John Mulch.

A very disagreeable character.

And yet, he was once her lover.

And I believe the father of her first child.

45 years ago, she sent him a note saying she'd lost a baby.

In a way, she had.

She entrusted the care of the newborn to her sister.

And as it was Christmas, they called the little girl Noelle.

I believe your mother loves you very much.

But your father, John Mulch, was a man with very little

love in him.

He broke into the house and went through your mother's things.

What was he looking for?

He was furious at Mrs. Eden's return.

Did he want to find something that damaged her?

He got more than he bargained for.

What did he find?

Her diary.

Your birth certificate.

Either way, he found out the truth.

And so did you.

I chased after him.

There must be some mistake.

You can't be my father.

It was news to me, too.

You were supposed to have died at birth.

I wish you had.

He was an astonishingly cruel man.

Not the sort to die peacefully in his bed.

At first I wondered, how is it done?

What did he eat?

But, of course, the best way to poison someone is through the bloodstream.

You gathered a bunch of roses for John Mulch, dipping the thorns in poison.

If he had accepted your gift graciously, he would still be alive.

But he rejected it.

Angrily, no doubt.

You pressed the bouquet into his hands.

And his fate was revealed.

Do you think I care?

Do you think he ever gave a second thought for me?

I do not believe that you could ever have made peace with him.

But you must make peace with God.

Noelle, Mother needs to see you.

I was worried about you.

Hello, Mother.

You know.

I know everything.

Oh, darling.

I never meant to hurt you.

I wish it could have been different. I wish the world would have allowed us to

be together.

You were always my daughter.

I'm so proud of you.

Both of you.

Now, be good to each other.

I love you.

I want you both to have a wonderful life.

Think of me as the garden grows.

As you grow.

Please, be gentle with him.

Darling, no need to worry.

I'm a tough old thing.

I'm not.

I don't know how I'll cope without you and Mother.

Just remember, we're both cuttings from the finest,

strongest, in the whole forest.

She likes sweet Williams.

I'm sure she will.

Oh, hello.

What's this?

Just to say, um, welcome to freedom.

Thank you.

I thought I'd never see another flower again.

Hello there, Mrs Mulch. It's so nice to see you.

Oh, and you.

Oh, um, I've got a present for you.

Oh?

For finding the truth.

I only hope that people will understand why my sister was driven to it. I know

what this is. This is a tuliper Octavia, named after your mother. Indeed.

I'm going to send one of those to everyone who knew her.

This week on Memory Lane Melodies, some sad news.

The celebrated flower arranger Octavia Eden has passed away.

Last time she appeared on the programme, I asked why she had devoted her life to

flowers. She said, because flowers are life.

Dirt is thrown at them, water falls on them, and still they

rise, beautiful and defiant, with colours to

dazzle your dreams.

More Father Brown at 1 .45 on BBC One next Friday.

Making Balbons one day, dreaming up cartoons the other. The Life of the

Apprentice, press read to watch on iPlayer.

Tile the bathroom, hang the disco ball and sit on the bidet. Amanda and Alan's

Italian job continues tonight at half past eight.