All language subtitles for Bookish.S01E03.Deadly.Nitrate.Part.1.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

We simply must be brave,
mustn't we?

Heaven knows, it'll be hard.

It'll be beastly,

but we're strong people,
Tony, you and I.

And what we feel for each other,
it'll endure.

It will endure.

So...

I shall stay in my shop,

you in yours,

and all I ask is that
you don't grow to hate me.

How could I hate you, Madelaine?

You mean everything to me.

What the hell was that?

Cut!

Billy, what was that?

Just a car backfiring
I think, Miss Dare.

It sounded like a pistol.

Didn't it sound like
a ruddy pistol, Stew?

- You alright, my pet?
- Yeah, I'm fine.

I think I'm just a bit tired.

Of course darling, you must be.

Tell you what, how about
a proper dinner after this?

Like we used to before the war.

Oh, yeah, that would
be wonderful.

Mm, none of this canteen muck!
No offense.

- Sandra, are you okay?
- Yes, yes. Jesse, I'm fine.

Don't fuss. How was my pout
at the end? Was it...

You could do
with a dab, actually.

Miss Dare only wears
Victory Red. Bèsame.

Please, can we just stop faffing
and get on with it?

- Mary, thank you.
- Yes Miss Dare.

Alright. Alright! Ad astra
per aspera, we must have bodies!

- Abracadabra.
- Stew, stop it.

I can't concentrate.

Have... quiet!

Lovelorn in London, scene 28,
take three.

Action!

We simply must be brave,
mustn't we?

Heaven knows, it'll be hard.

It'll be beastly.

But we're strong.

Oh, wow.

Oh, my...

And this is on his bedroom wall?

Rose red and rolled gold.

I said to him,
'Stewart, Stew', I said,

'You are just like this paper.

You're so strong and modern'.

He handled this very roll.

Can I touch it?

Er, I shouldn't really,
but, erm,

well, since you're extras
in my cake shop.

This is the last thing he sees
when he gets into bed?

- Yes.
- And the first thing he sees

when he gets up in the morning,
when his hair's all disarranged.

It's 14 shillings.

Hm.

Tell you what,
it's a bit irregular, but erm,

I could let you have a sample
for, well, sixpence, say?

And then you could keep a little
reminder of him wherever you go.

Oh, yes.

Yeah.

- Keep the change.
- Thank you.

Mr. Book. Didn't expect
a welcoming committee.

I thought I'd better
prepare you.

- For what?
- There have been some changes

since you went away
on your long errand, Jack.

Oh, by the way,
Lord Belborough's first folio,

what did they say?
Is it genuine?

As his teeth.

Oh dear.

Move aside, please.

- What the hell?
- Close.

Hollywood, or rather the nearest
England can get to it.

Yes, Jack.

We're going to be in pictures.

Right then, let's hear it,
whenever you're ready.

Mm.

Life and death.

The whole world is here in this
little patch of London town.

Are you going to do it
like that?

Life and death, the whole world
here, in this little...

No, I think we'll just
lose the line.

I'm already worried about the...

mustache.

You'll be smashing
in the background, though.

Let's take ten.

-Ten minutes, all.
-Ten minutes.

- Billy.
- Nerina.

Rather jumpy this morning,
isn't she, our dear Sandra?

We work long hours
in the picture business, Nerina.

Oh, don't I know it.
And it must be so hard

to keep that from telling
on the faces of your stars.

If you'll excuse me.

Just the exteriors are being
done here, you understand.

The rest is at Ladyhurst,
that's the studios.

- You see, I know all the jargon.
- Who's in it?

- Morning, Mr. B.
- Good morning.

Stewart Howard.

-Yes, Mr. Howard.
-I like him.

He's passed me by
entirely, I'm afraid.

He plays the hero.

The idealistic
young bookshop owner,

in love with the girl next door.

Did you never see him
in that submarine picture?

He went mad and tried
to throttle everyone.

I mean, it was proper sweaty.

- Alas.
- Well, who else?

Patience. You have literally
arrived halfway through

this picture and you've yet
to set eyes on our leading lady,

who's also Stewart's fiancé.

His real life fiancé.

- Sandra Dare.
- She's using my room.

Decanted my things so she can
do her mascara,

sip her Vichy water,
whatever it is these people do.

I had a cigarette card of her,

before the war, of course.

Ah,

- Mr. Book.
- Ah.

Not getting too much
in your way, I trust?

Not at all.
It's certainly an education.

Larry Olivier calls film
an anemic little medium.

He's such a crushing snob.

'For he to-day would shed
his blood with me

shall be my brother,
be he ne'er so vile.'

Churlish when they gave him
the Oscar.

Jack, this is Mr. McKendrick.

- Delighted.
- Oh, and here's Nora.

The gang's all here.

So, you're the director?

- And the writer.
- I thought you'd be older.

With a monocle
and a riding crop.

Mustn't believe everything
you read

in the film magazines,
young lady.

I've seen you before.

Mr. McKendrick had
a lot of green Penguins

from us last summer.

Oh, yeah. You look different.

It's the shorts.

I'm not wearing shorts.

That's why you look different.

Yes, you were a very a busy bee
as I recall.

You were always running
about the place,

- weren't you, Mr. McKendrick?
- Jesse.

Jesse.

Ah. Hello, Nerina.

In search of material
for your next article?

- Always.
- Well, bins are round the back.

Ah-haha.

Aren't you going
to introduce me?

This is Mr. Book. From...

Oh. The apostrophe man.

They subbed your sign.

I'm trying not to look.

Would you by any chance be
a member of His Majesty's press?

Nerina Bean. Picture Goer.

If you have juicy tit-bits,
my door is open.

I'll bear that in mind.

- Iced fingers.
- Oh, they're not real.

Don't break a tooth.

It's lovely, yeah.

And he has this?

Mm. From his ceiling.

All the way down
to his skirting boards.

Does he talk about her?
Fiancé?

Does he say, 'I don't like her
anymore, she's too old for me'?

- No.
- Does he say,

'She's so old it's like kissing
a leg of mutton'?

No. She's only 45,
thank you very much.

He says he was very excited
about Lovelorn in London

from the moment
he saw the script.

And he's very excited
about married life.

Though, he also adds,
one must keep an open mind,

because who knows what fate
may throw your way.

- Hear that, Barbara?
- Urgh.

Heavens! Girl has it bad.

Barbara! Oh!

Home is the hunter.

Oh, my God.

Inspector.

Is this a sad one, Morris?

- Well...
- 'Cause I've been up all night

with the razorblade case, so...

Alright, let's have it.

Film-struck girl, extra, dead,
on the counter.

It's suspicious. I've shut down
filming for the time being.

- Have the parents been informed?
- Yes, Sir.

Er, she and the family
didn't get on.

Her friend said that's why she
spent so much time at the, er,

the pictures.

Inspector.

Book.

We are at home to death,
it seems.

Oh, they're, er, upstairs.

Hm.

By Royal Appointment.

What are they keeping
from us, Stewart?

All this waiting
is making me tired.

Perhaps one should
have a mask made.

A mask?

With a permanent rictus smile.

They can do wonders
with makeup now.

Hm. I have Boris Karloff's
number, if you'd like.

'Dearest Miss Dare,
you don't know me,

but I'm your most
devoted admirer'.

I wonder what they'll think
of Lovelorn in London.

- Who?
- Them!

They'll buy it.

They love us, don't they?
Both of us.

They'll throw bottles
at the screen.

Do you know what they shouted
at the test of Brief Encounter?

Why doesn't she just,
hm, kiss him?

Only they didn't say 'kiss'.

Relax, darling.
It'll be another smash.

We're the nation's
most blissfully

- engaged couple, remember?
- Mm.

And what a long engagement
it's been.

Oh, God, I can't wait
to be back at the studio.

Haven't you enjoyed our little
field trip?

If we're back at Ladyhurst,
it gets that dreadful

Nerina Bean out of my hair.
The studio has gates.

- Fire-breather of Picture Goer.
- Hm.

You know when you lift
a stone, or a branch,

and suddenly all these ghastly,
filthy, damp

little monstrosities
are exposed to the daylight,

huh, scrabbling back
into the shadows,

well, beneath them
are even worse filthy,

damp little monstrosities.

And under them is Nerina Bean.

She's always been
rather sweet to me.

- Mhm.
- Well,

we've got good news
for her, don't we?

- Do we?
- Deliveries.

- Oh.
- Our new three-picture deal?

Picture Goer exclusive.

Yeah.

What do you want,
barley sugar boy?

I'm afraid there's been
an accident.

The contents of her handbag.

Melancholy, isn't it?

Evidence of a little life
spilled on the floor.

Ooh, what's this?

You kiss your excess lipstick
onto your favorite star.

Oh yeah, well, takes all sorts.

- This interests me, may I?
- Mhm.

Very carefully wrapped.

Tenderly, I'd say.

Ah.

Well, they are still
on the ration.

They look expensive. But there
are only coppers in this purse.

- Trottie...
- Yes?

Did they have money,
these girls?

Very little.

So, they didn't buy them.

I didn't notice the production
providing fancy confectionery.

No, the fans bring them.

Letters and presents,

sad little things they knitted.

They're left through there.

Billy brings them up to them.

Actually, he had a box of
chocolates with him, just now.

Puncture mark.

Barbara was breathless,
Trottie, yes?

Yes, and twitchy.

- Strychnine!
- Oh, hells bells!

Poor girl.

Someone's been at these.

Oh darling, you shouldn't be...

you don't know
where they've been.

Drop it! It's poison!

Don't be absurd, they're by
Royal Appointment.

I'm afraid it's true, Sir.

You, you didn't have any,
did you, Miss Dare?

- Oh, er, no, no.
- What about you, Mr. Howard?

- No.
- Oh, good.

Have you ever
received chocolates

like this before, Miss Dare?

Er, yes, all the time. My fans
know they're my favorite.

But I never eat them.

Well, it seems reasonable
to assume then

that you were
the intended victim.

Intended victim?

Well, what does he mean,
intended victim?

We're investigating the death
of Barbara Markham.

Oh, yes, that unfortunate
young woman.

Yes.

Oh my God, I have been sent
some strange things in my time,

but why would anyone
want to kill me?

Billy, who gave you
these chocolates?

Nobody. They were just
with the usual mail.

I always have to deal with it.

Where anyone
could've got at them.

And Barbara and her friend
presumably did.

Jesus Christ,
we could've both died.

What were you thinking about,
bringing that muck up here?

Sorry, Mr. Howard. But you told
me to bring everything...

No, don't answer me back.

I need to find myself
a new assistant.

You alright, my love?

It's a brutal question,
Miss Dare,

but I'm afraid it must be asked.

Do you have any idea
who might wanna kill you?

- No!
- Can't this wait?

- Yes, of course.
- Excuse us.

- Sir...
- Out!

I need to remind you that
this is an official

murder investigation.

- It's alright.
-Don't talk to the press!

There once was an actress
called Dare,

whose allure was
exceedingly rare.

Her chocolates were spiked
with strychnine, not nice.

It was Barbara that ate them,

not fair.

I hope we did the right thing,

letting those people
in to the lane.

Why did you?

I'm afraid it was money.

Yes, my love, those little
pieces of paper,

they keep us out of
the small claims courts.

How much?

Twenty guineas.

- Per week?
- Per diem.

For ten diems.

What the devil's going on
out there?

Bobbies swarming about
like the cup final.

- Ah, Mrs. Goodwin.
- Yes.

I'm afraid there's been
an accident.

Ooh. Oh, nothing to do
with Sandra Dare, I hope?

I heard she was
in the neighborhood.

- Oh, so that's why we're here.
- Always been a fan...

They don't wanna hear about
your juvenile antics, woman.

Miss Dare is perfectly sound,
I'm happy to say.

The Scarlet Pimpernel you had
from us last time, wasn't it?

- I trust you enjoyed?
- Oh, very much.

- And I promised you the sequel.
- I'm teeing off at quarter-to.

- Sshh!
- Sorry?

Sshh. Thinking.

- I Will Repay.
- What?

That's the sequel.
To the Scarlet Pimpernel. Jack?

- Oh, erm...
- Underneath Hardy Perennials,

the biography of Danton
and the stack of unpaid bills.

Got anything on, er,
how to cook?

I beg your pardon?

That's what
she needs.

Can hardly boil a ruddy egg.

How are your feet?

Oh, much better.

Oh, I'll wait in the car.

Ah, that's just a bob.

Oh, and I put this to one side
too, on the house.

- What is it?
- Oh, just a little play. Ibsen.

'A Doll's House'.

It's about a woman who realizes
she's rather trapped.

Unfulfilled.

Thought you might
find it enlightening.

Thank you.

Cheerio.

How's business been?

Boomin'.

'Goodbye to Berlin'.

All the Stewart Howard fans
are mad for it.

Is he in the film version?

That's what I'm telling 'em.

I, er, better unpack.

Oh, Jack, be a darling and fetch
my bag from my room, would you?

It's the green one
with the amber clasp.

Righto.

Ah.

Hm.

Do you really think
someone tried to kill me?

- It really looks that way.
- Good God.

Well, at least we'll be back
at Ladyhurst tonight.

You sure you're okay to shoot?

- I'll have to be, won't I?
- Deidre!

Silly me. My memory. Sandra.

- Are you ready?
- Ready?

My exclusive.

Oh, excuse me. Erm, I promised
an interview.

- Harold!
- Miss Dare.

Erm, Nerina, I can give you
two minutes.

A necessary evil, I suppose.

One must feed the machine,
Mr. Book.

Ah,

finally.

Ah.

If you'd be so kind.

You know my motto.

If you've nothing nice to say,

come and sit by me.

And here you are. Sitting by me.

Ah yes, but I do have something
nice to say, Nerina.

Oh?

Lovelorn in London is the first
of a new three-picture deal.

Oh.

A deal Stewart and I
have signed on for.

Isn't that marvelous?

Marvelous.

And you're shooting interiors
at Ladyhurst, aren't you?

- Mhm.
- Not exactly MGM,

- is it, Ladyhurst?
- Oh, it'll do nicely.

You know the place though,
don't you?

Made plenty of pictures
there in the past.

I like the one where you played
the simple crafter's daughter

- who married a duke.
- Hm.

Yes, and the one where
you played a simple

fisherman's daughter
who married a jute magnate.

- Yes.
- I always forget what jute is.

It's a kind of fiber.
People make bags with it.

What's the first film
you made there, Sandra?

At Ladyhurst?

- Hm.
- Erm,

I don't know. Er...

Springtime for Mary, I think.

Oh, about a simple blacksmith's
daughter who married...

Alright.

I think it was quite a bit
before that.

Do you know, our readers
would be fascinated to learn

that not all Sandra Dare's
pictures were talking pictures.

I love those old inter-titles,
'Came the Dawn' and all that.

But I can check the date
later, Deirdre.

That is your real name,
isn't it?

The one you used to go by.

Deirdre Piddock.

Perhaps you should concentrate
on the present, Nerina.

Oh?

Someone is trying to kill me!

Jesse and I are taking
Sandra for supper.

Try to take her mind off things.

If that's not inappropriate
under the circumstances.

Well, one must eat.

Where are you going? Wheeler's?

No. Camille's. On the Strand.

Good choice.

Don't have the oysters.

I saw them taking
that girl away.

- I assumed it was an accident.
- No.

- Poisoned chocolates.
- Really? Oh...

And they were intended for me.

And that poor sad girl
intercepted them.

Oh, how's that for an exclusive?

Tragic.

And what an angle.

Oh, sorry, that was crass of me.

But, still,

what an angle.

Well, there's your story,
Nerina.

- Are you ready, darling?
- Oh yes.

I was just leaving.

Congratulations on the new
contract, Stewart.

Thank you.

Much to chew on.

Oh, it's lovely to see you.

Bus to Ladyhurst leaves
in five minutes!

Five minutes, everyone!

ZWhat are you waiting for,
the last post?

Mr. Masterson.

What a pleasure
to see you again.

Nerina Bean.

- Looking lovely, as ever.
- Hm.

What can I do for you?

There we go.

Ta.

We met through, erm,
Picture Goer.

Me and Barbara, I mean.

There's lots of correspondents,
you see.

Like-minded folk
finding each other.

Sandra Dare fans.

Some.

And the other big names, too.

There's a hairdresser I know
who's potty on James Mason.

But, you know,

Stewart was our favorite.

That's why we,

why we chose to get jobs
as extras.

- To get close.
- Oh.

You're doing very well, my dear.

You admit to taking
the chocolates?

Yeah.

I'm awfully sorry.

We just couldn't resist 'em.

We saw 'em there on the table
in the bookshop, and...

I mean, chocs.

Come on, it's been years.

They were through there.

Yeah, just through there.

What did you do with the note?

Note?

Well, there was obviously
an enclosure of some kind.

It's not there now.
What did you do with it?

I, I, I didn't see any note.

It was over there, look,
on the table.

It's funny how easy it is
to get close to them.

The stars, I mean. Sally Gray
once brushed past me

in the powder room
at the Walsingham.

You opened the box,

maybe the card fell out?

Do you have back issues?

Picture Goer, I mean.

Of course. January 35 onwards.

Would you be so good
as to let us have them?

Course.

I know that look.

Oh, Dog. You naughty boy.

Well, I wouldn't say
an obsession, Sir...

Hm.

And you're sure
he knows about it?

Yeah, he does know
where we are.

Thank you, Miss Bruce.
You've been most helpful.

I, er, Constable.

Thank you.

Well?

'Oh Stewart.

Oh Stewart, my love, there's so
much I want to say to you.

From that moment
on the submarine, I knew.

Your look of concentration,
your strength.

We were destined
to love each other.'

Ship of Shame.
Good picture, that one.

They were meant for him.

'We imagine we control
our passions,

but they direct us.

To the stars we strive,
despite adversity.

They drive ordinary people
to extraordinary actions.'

Like... like injecting strychnine
into strawberry creams?

'So, Stewart,
my own best darling,

I implore you not to try.

Follow your heart,
break off your engagement,

and we can be together,
you and I, my sweetest boy.

In life, or in the cold,
cold tomb of death.

And if one proves impossible,
I'll take the other.

Joyously.'

Well, that seems pretty clear.

If the writer can't have him,
nobody can.

So, we're looking
for a film fanatic.

Fanatic being the word.

That would be
the obvious explanation.

Alright then, bring me
up to speed.

What do we know about
this film lot?

Stewart Howard.

Proof that smoldering
Latin looks

sometimes occur spontaneously
in Bermondsey.

He and Sandra have bound
their careers together.

The nation's sweethearts.

But who can know
the truth of it? He's an actor.

And he's young and ruthless
and rather over-rewarded,

and appears to be hopelessly
in love with someone else.

Who?

Himself.

Then there's the honorable
Jesse McKendrick.

He lived in rooms on the lane
last year, just for a few weeks.

Rich boy.
Slumming it for the summer.

Ran up and down
like a billy goat.

He was always pounding
the streets in his plimsolls.

Left when it got cold.

Ran straight back to Daddy's
place. In Wiltshire, I think.

I'm sure I looked it up.

And then we must presume
wrote his script

on the private lives
of the proletariat.

Thank you so much
for joining us, please.

Good neighbor, was he?

Didn't pay much attention
to be honest.

I find that hard to believe.

Well, he was obviously taking
notes on how to run a bookshop.

And Miss Dare, she had a rich
husband who died, didn't she?

Italian national.

Is that why they went
to the States?

Well, if they'd stayed,

he'd have been interned
as an enemy alien,

so I suppose they preferred
the Californian sunshine.

That's made me think
rather better of her.

I thought she was just
running away from the bombs.

- What about Billy?
- Clapper boy...

- Positions please!
- And from the look of it,

Stewart Howard's now
ex-whipping boy.

Doesn't seem to be much
love lost there.

They pose a lot, don't they?

These film stars.

Why is he marrying her,
do you think?

To show she's still here.

Thank you.

Er, to show she knows
what the audience wants.

Stewart Howard's just arrived
at the top, ain't he?

Sandra's been there for years,

but she can only stay there
for so long.

Very perceptive of you, Jack.

What a brutal business this is.

It captures people in time,

then they change,

and it mocks them for it.

Right, I'm gonna get onto
the film security people,

see if anyone saw who dropped
the chocolates off.

What will you do now?

Jack and I are taking this note
to dinner.

- We're here.
- Oh, allow me.

Oh...

Jesus Christ! Me?

You.

You've no idea how draining
it is, Mr. Book.

Glad-handing.

Scribbling one's autograph.

Pretending to recognize
someone who you apparently met

at a village fete ten years ago.

And the smiling.
My God, the smiling.

This is simply the next step.

They can only love one so much

and there's only one way
to go from there.

Er...

How can I bloody well eat
after that?

Well, a crazed fan is only
the most obvious theory,

but we don't like to be obvious,
do we, Jack?

What? Oh. Er, no. No, we don't.

So, if I might repurpose the
Inspector's earlier question,

can you think of anyone
who might want to kill you,

Mr. Howard?

Take your ruddy pick.

There's quite a lot of angry
ladies out there.

Not to mention their husbands,
Saville Row tailors,

Producers, directors, writers.

My ex-agent. My ex-ex-agent.

Uncle Tom Conway an' all.

What about prison?

What?

You started to eat your dinner
with your spoon.

- Ah.
- Old habits.

Dead giveaway.

Takes one to know one.

I was younger than you.

Nothing too terrible.

But I shouldn't like it to get
into the popular press,

Mr. Book.

I should think not.

- What did they get you for?
- I went for a drive.

Where?

Through a furrier's window
in Mayfair. You?

Went to the bank
to make a withdrawal.

With a stocking over your face?

Yeah. My mother's.

I'm a Bermondsey boy, Jack.

Rough as a sailor's arse.

Despite all of... this.

Do you think it could have
something to do with that?

The prison?

Well, as you've indicated,
it's a wide field.

Tell you what, why not take on
young Jack here

- as your new factotum.
- Huh?

No harm in having a strapping
young fellow like him

hanging around, and you are
looking for a new assistant.

I can't. I've already got a job
at the bookshop.

I'm sure I can spare you
for a few days,

and you know how Nora
loves to help out.

- Well...
- Splendid, yes.

It's a good idea.
You know, Mr. Book,

you should all come
to Ladyhurst.

Help us get the details right,
and, er,

- keep an eye on things.
- We'd be delighted.

Thank you for these.

I'm a film star.

You alright?

Yeah.

Why wouldn't I be?

I'll leave you to it then.

Let me know if anything
interesting turns up.

Oh, and be careful, there is
a killer on the loose. Hm?

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

Yes, Sir. What's your poison?

Varsity Sporting Review.

Er,

there you are.

What's this?

- Hm.
- Come on,

it's usually around now
that you deign to share.

Three things, then.

Who would benefit from Lovelorn
in London collapsing?

What was missing from that box
of chocolates?

It was lying there
with all the other fan mail.

- But no envelope.
- Top of the class, Mrs. Book.

So, unless the envelope
was disposed of...

The chocolates didn't arrive
by post.

So, anyone on the film set
could've put it there.

Precisely. And finally,
the chocolate method,

haphazard though it was,
has been tried and failed.

Which means
whoever's behind this...

Is going to try again.

What are you going to do?

We're invited to the film
studios tomorrow.

- Oh.
- And Jack has a new job.

As Stewart Howard's stand-in.

When are we going to tell him?

Not yet.

Shall I read?

Well, I know how you enjoy it,
so I'll humor you.

Budge up, then.

Oh, there it is.

Been fretting about that
since we moved my stuff

to accommodate the stars.

Then fret not, dear.

And recall our solemn pact.

Cave of Fancy, eh?

I've seen some dives in my time,
but this...

so dirty.

So shady.

The pansies in my garden
abhor the shade.

Right, Sir.

It is Sir, is it?

Let's find you on my list.

Name, occupation,

marital status.

Engaged.

Who are you?

Medical Officer Strotford Perry.
Trottie to my friends.

Late of the Garibaldi Brigade,
and I don't mean the biscuits.

I can pull out shrapnel,

I can strip a Tashanka
in under two seconds,

and I once took a bullet
south of the Erbo

which I wouldn't recommend
even to you, Sergeant.

And I never, ever
leave a man behind.

He's sitting there.

And I'm getting married
to him next Saturday,

and the Chief Constable's
daughter

is one of our bridesmaids.

So, if I were you, I'd just
admit the error, right away,

and cross him off your list.

What say you?

Trottie...

Saturday alright for you?

Forecast is good.

Quite alright, Trottie.

Hm.

Well then,

kiss me.

Oh...

Where would I be without you?

I think we both know
the answer to that, my love.

Anyway...

you were going to read.

Of course.

She's noticed you.

They always notice me. Girls.

Doesn't mean anything.

It's like when kids point
at dogs

in the street and say, 'Dog'.

Yeah, well you're getting
married soon, so...

You may have seen it
in a column by Nerina Bean,

but let me tell you
something, Jack.

I've never gone down
on one knee to anyone.

Sandra popped the question
then, did she?

I can imagine that.

Most of the questions
were from her business manager.

Oh.

Oh.

So, you've got
an arrangement then?

Shouldn't drink so much,
should I?

Yes, an arrangement.

But we all have those, don't we?

You have one with Book.
Book has one with Mrs. Book

if we're talking about
unusual marriages.

No, look, why'd you say
Book's marriage is unusual?

You're like him. Book.

- How?
- 'Cause you read.

So go on, read me.

Well, erm,

you keep coming here 'cause
you think

this is the sort of place
that film stars go.

But here's the thing.

You don't like it here.

You hate it.

You hate that drink, too.

It's like a pudding
from the war.

So, you're thinking,
'How can I be the chap I was,

you know, before I knew
that the camera loved me?'

Which is a terrible thing
to know.

Isn't all it's cracked up to be,
can you believe that?

Yeah, I wouldn't mind
a bit of it.

Careful what you wish for, son.

Got somebody sending me poison
in the post, remember.

You know, I was a bit stuck
when I met Sandra.

Typecast.

'Not officer material',
they said.

Always the problem kid.

Sandra changed that.

She pulled strings,
whispered in ears.

Producers started casting us
as lovers.

We were lovers by then,
of course.

D'you love her now?

Well, I don't hate her.

- You wanna be your own man.
- Course I do.

But that's impossible, isn't it?
We're a pair.

Like Hope and Crosby. Fred
and Ginger. Garbo and Gilbert.

Yeah, except he left, didn't he?

What?

John Gilbert.

Didn't survive
when the Talkies came.

Yeah.

So, it's all an act then?

You and her.

- Golden couple.
- All an act.

As much an artifice
as Stewart Howard himself.

Film is for dreamers,
you see, Jack.

When you sit there in the dark,

there has to be space
for you up there.

In that kiss.

In those scenes
in the moonlight.

Standing by the rail of a ship.

If you've just read
in the fan mags

that the screen lovers have
broken off the engagement,

can't stand to be
in a room together,

then there's no space to dream.

Uh.

Scene 49, take eight.

And,

action.

It was then I knew
we had fallen in love

from the pages of a book.

But was that love
strong enough to thrive

- out in the teeming world?
- Ahem,

can we, erm, try it again
without him reading in?

I can do it in time.

Yes, of course.

Reset!

Still rolling, Sandra.

And,

action.

God, I, I'm so sorry, Jesse.

Er, can I beg ten minutes?

A ciggy'll sort me out.

- Cut it there.
- Cutting it there. Right...

This day...

Ten minutes, all!

Back at five past.

- Would you like a coffee, Sir?
- No. Thank you.

What?

Eric Percival Banks, she's...

she's been married before.

Good morning.

You're up early.

Oh, I,

I thought you might want a tea.

Hey kid, d'you wanna be
in pictures?

Your name's not on the list.
Who are you?

We're antiquarian book sellers,
isn't it obvious?

And I know we're being extra
vigilant, Gerry, love,

but they're with me.

Alright.

What's this?

The address of Barbara
Markham's parents.

I'll go visit them.

No, no. There's
the inquest first.

Just write them a kind letter.

I will.

Thanks, Book.

You boys are in for the biggest
surprise of your lives.

Keep going.

Better this way.

More dramatic.

Geordie, can we get
some lights on, please?

Yes, Mr. Howard.

Amazing.

It's absurd.

Ridiculous.

A bizarre exaggeration
of reality.

It is wonderful.

What a thrillingly peculiar life
you lead, Mr. Howard.

It's an imitation of life.

Hm. Dog's blanket.

But no Dog.

- Is Dog cast yet?
- Yeah.

But she's not much cop.

No screen presence.

Think of a good replacement?

Yeah, I can.

Scads of cash.

Your Tony's a better
book seller than I.

It's fake.

Like everything in here.

Ah. Well, I'm glad you
had a chance to look

before the hordes arrived.
Let's get some breakfast.

Canteen's in the next block.

Lay on, Macduff.

Just past the dressing rooms.

D'you know what
you're doing next, or...?

Another Robin Hood remake.

I mean, I've got
the pins for it, so...

- Oh my God.
- What?

It's one of the extras.

No...

I think not.

It's Nerina Bean.

The girl with the poison pen.