All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders - 13x04 - The Silent Land.WEB-DL.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

This dark and forbidding
thoroughfare is Chain Alley.

If you could all please gather here.

And this...is the very spot

where poor Lucy Law was murdered
on November 3rd, 1831.

Feel the chill in the air?

That's because Lucy's ghost still
walks the alleyway

and that icy coldness is always
here,

even on a summer's day.

Death by fright, madam?

Are you insured against it?

I don't think so.

Then you'd better keep up,
hadn't you?

I'm sorry if the concert
disappointed you.

It's just not my kind of thing, Mum.

All that folky stuff.

What do you mean, 'folky'?

Those are traditional songs.

They're part of our heritage.

Right.

Be careful where you walk.

We don't want to disturb the
residents.

This graveyard...

..once belonged to the sanatorium.

They were both closed down
60-odd years ago...

..but the spirits of long-dead
patients have often been seen.

What? I saw something.

Over there.

♪ Do flourish and hold... ♪

Are you doing the Causton run?

Oh, I'll do it later, Dad.
Road's closed.

There's been an accident.

Yeah, it's ready to go now, Steve.

Come on, darling.

You should have been taking more
care.

And what were you and Cully doing
but chattering, I suppose?

She was asleep. It is only a matter
of luck neither of you was hurt.

How many times do I have to tell
you, Tom?

I swerved to avoid someone.

And I'm just not sure
whether I hit them or not.

Morning, Mary.

No-one opened up yet, then? No.

So who's librarian on a Thursday?

Gerald.

Not like him to be late.

Not the end of the world, is it,
just because the library's not open?

It is, if Gerald's got anything
to do with it.

He's the first to complain when
other people are late for things.

Mm.

Hi, love. Hiya, Dad.

Talk to your father, will you?

He won't listen to me.

Just been back to March Magna.

Searched the area.

But she's still convinced she could
have hit someone? Yeah, she is.

There's no bloodstains on the road.

The only marks are the skid marks
from her car.

No report of anyone injured or
missing in the village.

Hey, guess what?

Gerald's gone missing.

Eh? He hasn't turned up for his
shift at the library.

Well, I expect he's sick,
or something.

Gerald? He's sick, all right.
He likes 'em dead.

Liam, please. Don't you dare talk
about people like that.

Suppose your luck's in
at the library now, then?

Don't know what you mean.
The way you hang around there.

I would have thought you'd got
better things to be doing.

Echo!

Do you want a coffee, Dad?
No, I've got no time.

I've lost a folder - green folder.

You took it upstairs. What?

I was telling Mum.

I've got the use of Simon's car
while he's away,

so she can borrow mine.
That's very kind of you, Cully.

Uh-oh. What now?

Barnaby.

I hit someone, Cully.

I know I did.

Mum, will you stop worrying about
this?

I can't. But we checked the road
last night, remember?

We both climbed out of the car and
we looked.

There was nothing. There was no-one.

Whoever it was could have been
injured.

Will you listen to me? They could
have crawled away somewhere to die.

Oh, for goodness' sake!

What do you think Dad's been doing?

He's been asking around.

If anything bad had happened,
he would have been told.

What is it?

March Magna.

A body's been found.

Morning, sir.
Morning.

His name's Gerald Ebbs.

Who identified him?

The person who found him - Mr Kent -
he's over there.

Morning, Tom. George.

Well...

..he would have died some time
during the night.

First impressions suggest
that he choked to death...

..but, then...there is this.

Hardly a penetrating wound.
Nevertheless, a blunt force injury.

It's weird, isn't it, the way he's
lying there?

Looks as if he's kissing
and cuddling the grave itself.

Can he have erm...tripped or fallen,
somehow?

Cracked his head against the stone
work and then rolled over, face down?

Possible?

Or...George, I need to ask you this.

Could he have been involved
in a road accident

and then, somehow,
made his way here to...to die?

Well, I can't tell you at the
moment,

but...I suppose
it could have happened, yes.

Hmm.

It's freshly turned, isn't it?

This grave's been tended, recently.

Well, it's a bit of a forgotten
place.

Those are the only flowers here.

Well, at least
someone's kept it all tidy.

Johnny!

Heard some police cars earlier.

What's going on?

No idea.

Maybe if you got up at
a respectable hour once in a while,

you'd learn a thing or two.

I'll be back later. I've just got
the Watsons' garden to do.

Won't be long.

Got any work this week?

No.

Nothing till Monday.

You shouldn't have to wait on him
at this time of day.

I don't mind. Well, I do.

If he can't get up in time for
breakfast, like other paying guests,

he should be made to go without.

We don't have any other guests,
remember?

Anyway...

..he was working last night.

Huh! Call that work?

Him and his ghosts.

If there's anything else
you remember, anything at all -

Yeah, well, that's all, really.

Mr Kent.

Thank you - thank you so much for
notifying us.

I am Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby from Causton CID.

Mr Gerald Ebbs, did he have any
family?

There was his mother. She died a few
years ago.

Work colleagues? There's only Sarah.
It's a small library.

It caters for those of...limited
tastes.

She and Gerald worked separate
shifts.

Sarah's second name?

Sharp.
She lives on Castle Street.

I guess I'd better let her know.
Someone has to open the library.

Can you tell us anything more about
Gerald Ebbs?

He wasn't liked by many people.

Was he not? Why?

He was a clerk at the parish
council.

Enjoyed making decisions, whether
the village wanted them or not.

Did you like him? No.

He hated anyone interfering
with his precious cemetery.

His cemetery? He managed to get
a job here as caretaker.

He used to work here, on a voluntary
basis.

You come here most days, do you,
Mr Kent? Er -

This cemetery, Mr Kent. It's odd.

Everything's old. There are no new
graves here. That's right.

Present-day burials and cremations
take place at Causton.

It cause a lot of resentment.

Why's that?

People who've lived here all their
lives

like to think they have the right
to lie here when they're dead.

But all the people buried here,
no-one's died of old age.

That's because most of them were
patients.

Patients from where?
The old hospital.

It had its own chapel.

The hospital's on the edge of the
village. The one with the long wall.

My wife could tell you more about it
- we're both historians -

she specialises in local history.

Was it a good ghost walk,
last night?

No, it was hard work.

People with no imagination are always
hard work.

Difficult to scare.

I think it's wonderful, what you do.

Working with ghosts.

How many have you seen?

Erm...over the years?

Quite a few.

Good ones or bad ones?

Mostly good.

First, I thought there was one out
and about, last night.

Where?

In the cemetery.

A woman thought she saw something.

But there was nothing cos, if there
was, I would have sensed it.

I don't know how you do it.

John doesn't believe in ghosts,

then again, he doesn't believe in
most things.

Except moaning.

I hope he believes in you, Alice...

..because I certainly do.

Give me a shout if there's anything
else you need.

Not good news.

Poor Gerald's dead.

His body was in the graveyard all
night.

Oh, no.

There was one of those ghost walks
last night, remember?

What's that got to do with it?

Maybe something frightened him to
death

while he was digging up a grave.

Jess?

What's the best thing
about necrophilia?

Well?

You never have to say you're sorry.

Sir!

Hello, Mr Kent. Hello, Sarah.

I erm... I wonder if
I might come in for a moment.

Yeah.

Anything wrong?

Er, yes.

It's the library.

I'm afraid someone's going to have
to open it up.

But it's Thursday. Gerald does
Thursdays.

It's the way he's always wanted it.

He's not doing a number, is he? Cos
if he's being difficult - He's dead.

I found his body in the graveyard.

Oh, no.

But I don't understand, I mean,
how...how did he die?

I don't know.

I imagine that he fell.

Poor Gerald.

I mean, I know we had our
differences, but this is...

Look, don't worry, Mr Kent.

I'll open up the library.

It's the least I can do.

I thought I'd better... Yes.

Just there, sir. There.

Mrs Faith Kent?

Yes. Good morning.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby, Causton CID. Oh.

Well, please, come in. Thank you.

It's about Gerald, is it?

My husband told me the sad news,
only he isn't here.

That's OK. I can talk to you.

Ian's gone to the pub -

said he needed a drink
after what's happened.

Any excuse.

He also said that...Gerald Ebbs
wasn't liked by many people.

Ian said that?

How dare he?

What right has he got to say that
about someone?

So how did you get on with Gerald?

I'd say I put up with him.

He was a bit of a fusspot,

but I agreed with
some of the things he believed in.

Like what? Looking after the
cemetery.

Apart from...keeping it tidy,

did Gerald Ebbs have any other...
special interests

in March Magna cemetery?

None that I can think of.

Interest in one particular grave,
perhaps?

No.

That is the hospital, isn't it?

It was always known as
the Saint Fidelis.

Saint Fidelis, eh?

I'm doing a paper on it.

Your husband and you, do you work
together?

Ian? No. Far too low-brow for him.

Talk about the Tudor Constitution

or Renaissance English literature
and you'll have a friend for life.

It was a forlorn-looking place, that.

Mm.

They came from all over the UK
to be treated for tuberculosis.

And, I take it, they died?

TB was incurable in those days,
Mr Barnaby.

Hence the cemetery.

After you, sir.
Thank you.

Hello again, Mr Kent.

Mr and Mrs Bishop? Yes?

I'm Detective Sergeant Jones.

This is Detective Constable
Stephens, Causton CID.

I take it you were open last night.

Wouldn't be much of a pub,
if we weren't.

Who was in?

Just the locals.

Was Gerald Ebbs a local? No.

He never used to drink.

Perhaps he should have.
Might have livened him up.

So, apart from the locals,
were there any strangers here?

No.

There were some in the village,
last night, on the ghost walk.

On the what?
The Ghost walk.

Mr Bowmaker, our celebrated ghost
guide up to his tricks again.

When I say tricks, I mean tricks.

The man's a fraud. He makes it up
as he goes along. One more.

And he don't care how many lies
he tells in the process.

Just because something bad happened
in here, a long time ago,

he makes out it's worse than it is.

He tries to make out the pub's
haunted.

Which isn't exactly good for
business.

So there are no bad vibes here,
then?

Of course not.

Do you see those beams?

Years ago, a landlord hung himself
from here,

after he'd killed his wife and
daughter with a meat cleaver.

Just a domestic tiff that got out of
hand.

Does that make the place haunted?

The poor man hasn't been dead five
minutes

and there you are, maligning him to
strangers.

They were not just strangers,
they were the police.

Was this before you went to the pub,
or afterwards? Does it matter?

Look, I am just as shocked
by the death of Gerald

as the rest of the village.

I found his body, remember?

I shouldn't think anyone would be
allowed to forget that.

The fact remains that he was a sad
and annoying little nobody.

He was also lonely. Do you wonder
why? Have you finished with that?

Yes.

God, you're such an old woman!

Good afternoon.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby,
Causton CID.

Is it about Gerald?

Yes, it is.

Was it the weather that killed him,
then?

I'm sorry? What? Only it got quite
cold, last night.

He wasn't the healthiest of
individuals.

Sometimes, he'd spend the whole
night in that cemetery.

He told you that, did he?
He didn't tell me, I just knew.

People talked about it.

And your names are? I'm Adam Peach,
and this is my daughter Jessie.

So when did you last see Gerald Ebbs?

A few days ago.

He came in here to buy a small spray
of flowers.

Did he say who they were for?

No. He didn't need to tell me.

He's bought flowers here before

and he always takes them to the
cemetery.

God knows why. No-one else puts
flowers on those graves.

All the people buried there have
been dead and forgotten for years.

Anyway, I've got deliveries to do.

Dedicated worker. Has to be, it's a
family business.

Mr Peach, I am forever hearing that
Gerald Ebbs annoyed a lot of people.

More than a few. Anyone in
particular?

Well, him and Jeff were threatening
each other last week.

All because Jeff's lot were leaving
litter in the cemetery.

Who's Jeff?

His full name's
Jeffrey John Bowmaker.

Stephens ran a check on him.

He's obviously some kind of con
artist,

but there's no convictions
under the name.

Here we are, sir.

Jones, there's something
I think I should tell you.

Sir?

It is just possible that our dead man
was the victim of a car accident.

But surely... I said just possible.

And, if that's so, it's also possible

that the driver of the car
that hit him...was Joyce Barnaby.

Yeah.

What are you up to? I have
to contact the insurance company.

Leave that for now.

Why don't you let me take you out
somewhere?

Not today, thanks.

We could get a bit of lunch.
A spot of shopping?

I have to be here, Cully.

I have to wait for your dad
to get back to me.

Good news or bad, I need to know.

Hm.

We met up at 7:30.

Who's 'we'? Me and my customers.

March Lane, opposite the pub.

Here. It's in my brochure. Ta.

This is all we need:

police questioning him
on our premises,

with all the world to see.

The police have been questioning
a lot of people. It's their job.

All this is making me ill.

I want him out. He pays his rent.

I still want him out. We need all
the money we can get.

Your earnings don't exactly keep the
wolf from the door, do they, John?

So what time did you and your clients
- customers - get to the cemetery?

I'd say just before nine.

Did you see Gerald Ebbs there?

No.

Mm.

One of them thought she saw
something.

I looked, but I couldn't see
anything.

What's the name of this customer?

Absolutely no idea. Never seen her
before. You see, they're not locals.

I put adverts out and people
come in from other villages.

'A spine-chilling journey
into terror.'

I do my best.

Only I don't think the spirits
fancied coming out last night.

It was a bit nippy.

Sorry.

I've been asked to leave the
village.

Oh, no. Why?

Just kidding.

Oh. I'm here to stay.

You've got me forever, Johnny.

About time they bulldozed that
monstrosity, isn't it?

Oh, how I despise everything
Victorian.

The attitudes, the kitsch,
the cloying sentimentality.

Still, it wouldn't do for us all to
appreciate the same things in life,

would it? No, it wouldn't.

It's been a grim day.

I need cheering up.

Do you fancy going for a drink at
the March Magna Inn?

You call that being cheered up?

I'm surprised you don't take up
residence in that hell hole.

Got some news for you.

We found the murder weapon.

You found what?

This was found in the undergrowth,
some distance from the body.

It's a piece of edging - part of
the grave where he was found -

and, incidentally, where he was
killed.

It matches the wound

and there are traces of blood, and
I'm sure they'll match as well.

You seem relieved, Tom.

Yes.

You look very smart. I'm off to do
some research, Alice.

For your work? Oh, yes.

It never stops. Mm.

Mind you...

..I'd rather be here alone with you.

Now, don't be silly.

Be good.

I told Vic I'm not going out
any more at night.

Not till they find who's done it.

Bowmaker said there could have been
someone hanging around the cemetery.

Told Alice. He'd say anything.

You should know that.

Anyway, police have questioned him.

All this is not going to do our old,
historic village a lot of good,

is it, Mr Kent?

March Magna, historic?

So they tell us.
Whoever 'they' are, they are wrong.

Over the centuries, this village has
achieved precisely nothing of note.

Those poor, lost souls at the
hospital

are the only reason
this place is on the map.

Joyce?

Well?

The body we are dealing with

is that of a man who was murdered
in March Magna.

Murdered? Murdered.

Now, listen, Joyce, his death had
nothing -

nothing whatsoever - to do with your
accident.

Do you understand?

Thank God for that.
Let me get you a drink.

No thanks. No?

I still saw someone, Tom,
before I crashed.

Yes, so you say.

And I am perfectly willing
to believe you

because that could very well have
been the murderer.

Gerald's mail.

Mm. Nice place.

So Gerald was murdered, then.

Yes.

Who could have done such a thing?

Like me in this, do you?

You look fantastic.

Well, I'm the boss now.

Boss in this place. I've got to
dress the part, don't I?

Like that, do you?

Do you like me being the boss?

I see you've been nicking the best
blooms again.

There's a jug in the wash room.

Go and put them in water.

Get a move on...

..I've got a library to run.

Just bills and a couple of
brochures for a dating agency.

Oh, dear.

Hm.

And there's all this.

He must have been a bit of
an historian as well.

He's made a lot of notes.

On what? March Magna in the 1870s.

And Sutton-on-the-Hill, Derbyshire,
same period.

A place mentioned on the gravestone.

March Magna as it was.

Mm. And Sutton-on-the-Hill.

Same two places.

Same time period.

He seems to have a real fixation on
that grave.

Could the dead girl have been
a long lost relative?

I have no idea.

Where's that?

It says 'The old hospital.'

And back to the graves again.

Caroline Maria Roberts.

Stop there.

'Not dead but sleepeth.'

Here you are, Mum.

Just don't go driving
into any more bushes. Thank you.

I'm sorry to hear about the murder
victim, Mum,

but at least that means you can
relax now.

You're not responsible
for someone's death.

Mum?

I'm sorry, Cully, I just can't
forget it.

You have to. No.

No, I saw someone.

Nothing and nobody will ever make me
change my mind.

What's that?

Oh, it's just the March Magna ghost
walk guide.

It's nonsense.

Just brought it to show you.

You know, there were people
in March Magna that night, Mum.

Tourists.

Maybe that's what you saw.

A tour like this, it could help.

Maybe I could find out something.
Oh, no, you don't.

Don't even think about it.

Any coffee going?

Miss Sarah Sharp?

Yes.

Good morning to you.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby, from Causton CID. Oh.

Do you mind if I ask you
a few questions?

About what? Mr Gerald Ebbs.

No.

When did you last see Mr Ebbs?

Erm...must have been Saturday
morning, he passed by my house.

Was he alone? He was always alone,
especially since his mother died.

When did you last have
a conversation with Mr Ebbs?

Oh, I gave up talking to him
a long time ago.

Why?

Because he liked to think
he ran the village.

He wasn't even born here. I was.

Where was he from?

I think he and his mum moved here
from Oxford when he was a child.

Did he travel much?

Gerald? Hardly ever left the
village.

Why are you asking me this?

Well, it's all to do with the
cemetery.

Gerald Ebbs seems to have had
a...peculiar interest

in the occupant of one of the graves.

Did he ever say anything about
having relatives up in Derbyshire?

Not that I can remember.

Or an interest in genealogy, perhaps?

Well, if he did, he never told me.

In fact, from what I hear,

the only thing that seemed to interest
him was that creepy graveyard.

OK. Thank you very much.

It's all right, Alice. It's me.

Oh! Oh, Jeff!

How could you do such a thing?

I'm sorry, Alice. Oh, you frightened
the life out of me.

It's just a bit of fun.

Fun? You call that fun?

It ceased being a hospital in the
late-1940s.

Yeah? And then what?

A private school.

Then a visitors' centre, up until
the late '80s.

After that, it became too difficult
and too expensive to maintain.

So what are we looking for?

Well, perhaps Joyce really did see
someone.

The murderer?

It's possible.

And, if she did,
that someone - he or she -

might be hiding somewhere in here.

Just like it was in the photographs.

Go and have a look upstairs.

See what you can see.

No-one here, sir, and no sign of
anyone using it as a squat.

This must have been a busy community.

Full of hope. Full of despair.

You can almost feel it, can't you?

Not me, sir.

A place like this just gives me the
creeps.

Oh, Mr Barnaby.

Is this an awkward moment?
Yes.

I've got work to do. I'm sorry.
Just a couple of minutes, please.

OK.

Thank you. I've just been looking
round the old hospital.

It's a fascinating place, isn't it?
That's right,

but it's long been regarded as
an unlucky place.

Why?

In the late-1800s,

a young, female patient leapt to her
death

from the top of this staircase.

She wanted to end her suffering.

And a few serious accidents
have been recorded since then.

Involving the same staircase? Yes.

Look, I really must go.
I want to catch the afternoon light.

Hang on.

In the...

In the wall, surrounding the
hospital,

I came across what seemed to be
an old archway,

that had been bricked up. Yes.

It used to be an entrance.

Leading where? To the hospital.

The entrance was for members of
staff -

doctors and nurses in particular.

Why? Their accommodation was across
the road.

They weren't allowed to be seen
entering through the main gates.

Sorry, I don't understand. There was a stigma
attached to TB in Victorian times, Mr Barnaby.

So not only do the poor patients
have the illness to worry about -

They had to suffer the shame as well.
Right.

When was that archway bricked up?

Just after the First World War.

What are you up to?

I thought I'd try my hair
a different way.

Why?

Just felt like a change, that's why.

And make-up?

I just told you,
I'm trying something different.

Then you're wasting your time.

Well, one thing's for sure.

You'll never change.

You'll always be
a bitter, angry man.

Jones. Sir, I've found out a couple
of things.

There's nothing to suggest Gerald Ebbs
was related to the girl in the cemetery.

Oh. So what are you saying?

That it was just a morbid fascination
on his part?

That he was fixated on a dead woman?

Seems that way, yeah.

It's like a...

Well, it's almost like
a one-way love affair.

And there's this.

A patient committed suicide by
throwing herself from the staircase

of the St Fidelis hospital.
Yeah, I knew about that.

Her name was Caroline Maria Roberts,

the girl in the cemetery.

That cemetery's always been unlucky.

John was hoping to get the gardening
contract there,

when the old gardener died,

but Gerald volunteered to do the job
for free.

I mean, the parish council couldn't
refuse that offer, could they?

John must have been upset.

Upset? He was furious.

What's a nice girl like you doing in
a place - What do you want, Jeff?

Tonight's ghost walk.

It's going to be here.

Yes, so I've heard.

I'm on a bit of a recce.

Make sure of a safe route.

Don't want some old biddy suing me

if she falls
through the floorboards.

And...there's the historical side of
it.

I thought you might be able to help.

I helped you once before.
Never again.

Oh, come on, Faith - No, it means
I supply you with historical facts

and you bend the truth
to make a profit.

It's called poetic licence.

I've heard there's a strange aura...

..right here, around this staircase.

This will be where
I do my big number.

I've already explained to someone,
this area's meant to be cursed,

but there are no ghosts here.

That's OK.
I'll fill in the missing bits.

Hi, Dad. Hi.

Have you seen that order
for Marsh Farm?

The roses? No, why?
It's gone missing.

Hm. Those blooms are expensive.

Yeah, I know.

Never mind, I'll make up the order
with something else.

What about the wreath
for Mum's grave?

Oh, that's not a problem.

I put her favourites aside for that.

Only the best for her.

Will you be coming with me tomorrow,
love?

I can't, sorry, Dad.

You prefer to go and talk to her
on your own, don't you?

No, Jess, I don't.

So when are you going to get rid of
him? Get rid of who?

Your old man. I'm sick of living in
a B&B.

We could set up home together.

With your expertise and my
showmanship, we'd make a great team.

You've got to stop kidding yourself,
Jeff.

Faith by name, but not necessarily
by nature, that's me.

You're nothing more than a
diversion.

Been a few of those, have there?

Oh, yes, and each time there's a
risk.

Why? He lashes out.

Gerald's obsession
with this particular grave,

why would that get him killed,
do you think?

Mr Bowmaker,
what can we do for you, sir?

Is the ghost walk still on tonight?

Oh, yes, but, don't worry,
it won't be taking place here.

I'll be scaring 'em silly
at the old hospital.

Have you got permission
to go in there? No.

That's part of the fun.

I'll be making sure no-one comes to
any harm.

Have you got something to tell us?

John Carver.

What about him?

He wanted the job as gardener here,

but Gerald beat him to it.

John's wife told me...
it almost destroyed him.

Thank you, Mr Bowmaker.

Find out what you can about
this cemetery in the parish records.

Right.

Those flowers for Marsh Farm
didn't turn up, then?

Then again, I don't suppose they
ever will.

So why are you looking at me?

Because you bloody took them, Liam.
Don't be stupid.

And I bet I know what you did with
them.

You gave them to that jumped-up cow
in the library.

She's nobody.

I remember when she used to work in
the Post Office shop.

So why would I want to give her
flowers?

Because you're obsessed with her,
that's why.

You can't leave her alone.

You'd do just about anything
for her, wouldn't you?

So, tell me something...

..would you kill for her?

Good evening. I was just on my way
home from work and I thought...

I was just passing and I thought
I might buy my wife some flowers.

Oh, they're beautiful.

Yes. Sorry, they're not for sale.

A work of art.

Who are they for?

My mum.

Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that.

Well, when it's her birthday,
Dad makes a special wreath for her,

from us all,

so we never forget her.

And when is her birthday?

It's tomorrow.

She's buried in Causton.

Causton? That's a long way away,
isn't it?

How often do you manage to visit her?

Not enough, I'm always busy.

Anyway, erm...

What flowers would you like?

Liam?

May I have a word, please?

About what?

Sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear
that conversation you had with your sister.

Sarah Sharp, eh? She's a remarkable
girl, isn't she?

She's actually made the library look
welcoming.

She likes her job.

And, Liam, there were some
magnificent flowers on display.

Liam, when did you last see
Gerald Ebbs?

I don't know.
Three days ago, something like that.

Did you speak to him, or talk to him
at all?

Why would I want to talk to
that man?

The man was a perv.

My son's not an easy person to talk
to, Mr Barnaby.

He keeps a lot of things to himself.
Yeah, that's all right.

It can't be easy for a lad of any age
to, you know, lose his mum.

Yeah.

I suppose it must be difficult for
Liam,

you know, having his mum buried
so far away.

At his age,
who knows what's on his mind?

But it's more likely to be that young
woman in the library, than his mother.

And I don't suppose it helps having
ghost walks in the village here,

with their promise of an afterlife.

No. But no-one should ever believe
what Jeff Bowmaker says.

Wouldn't you agree with that? I
couldn't possibly comment on that.

All right, then...

Can he be done for fraud?

Ah-hah, I don't think so.

I thought I saw a ghost, once.

A real one.

It was at night on the road by the
old hospital.

It was only for a split second, but
I could have sworn...it was a nurse.

Then again, it was probably a trick
of the light.

Yes, you're probably right.

These things usually are.

Thank you.

Hello, Cully. Flowers for Mum?

I'll put them in a vase,
or something.

Here.

Please, Dad.
Not more of Mum's boring music.

The lyrics, Cully, to this song...

Quite strange, aren't they?
They're a kind of warning.

Of what?

Too much grieving will disturb the
dead.

After the last couple of days,
I'm inclined to agree.

Wreaths, flowers and memorial stones.
What do they do?

They keep grief alive.

Where is your mum? No idea.

I let myself in.
I thought you might know.

No.

Wait a minute. It's Friday.

What's special about Friday?

It's gone. What's gone?

The brochure for the March Magna
ghost walk.

Dad?

Where's Liam?

No idea, love. Why?

I haven't seen him
since that policeman was here.

Jones?

Sarah?

There's a good boy.

Jeffrey?

Alice.

What are you doing,
hiding in the shadows?

I need to talk to you.

Oh, not now, sweetie.
I've got to rush.

What about us? Mm?

Well, what happens now between us?

Well, erm, could we...

Could we perhaps talk about this
another time?

But...

Right. Time to go.

Open the door, then.

Any of you locals
fancy joining tonight's...

..ghost walk?

No thanks.
He thinks he's so funny.

You don't know what you're missing.

A large scotch and a smile please,
Mary.

I suppose you all know tonight's
tour is through the old hospital.

I've also been making plans for the
future.

I was thinking of holding
the next JB ghost experience...

..in this pub.

It's not haunted.

I know, but it is weird.

And my involvement could bring in
much-needed business for you.

We don't need your help.

I could lead my customers through
here, up the stairs,

through the upstairs rooms...

..and it won't matter
if you're shagging Mary in bed.

That'll make it even more weird.

Right, that's it.

Get out. I've had enough.

Get out. Get out!

Go on! Good riddance.
You are barred for life.

Really?

Oh, and Johnny, you must
do something about that cough...

..like die.

Jeff?

Have you seen Ian?
Yes, he's in the pub.

Well...be careful.

He's been watching us.

What's that bastard done to you?

Just erm...be careful, will you?

We come to the end of Chain Walk.

It is haunted by the ghost of
Lucy Law,

who hung herself from this tree,

mourning the loss of her lover who
never returned from the Crimean War.

Her ghost can be seen
on St Valentine's night.

Come on.

It's about time someone
livened up these ghost walks.

Liam?

Sssh!

I heard something.

Heard what?

I don't know, footsteps.

Well, I didn't hear anything.
Come on.

The St Fidelis Hospital is
an unlucky place,

and well past its prime.

So, once inside, I would ask you
all to stay close to me,

for safety reasons...

..and for whatever else may occur.

Oh, look. Oh, that's perfect.

Hey, look.

Oh, that'll do.

Oh, for goodness' sake, Liam.

Liam?

Come back here.

Liam...

Oh, you little sod.

..as they were dragged along.

Picture, if you will,

this building in days gone by.

I had a look at the parish records,
sir. Makes interesting reading.

Hey, you two,
have you arrested my brother?

And why would we do that, Miss Peach?

And here, rising above us...

..is the staircase of the damned.

Follow me.

Ooh!

Careful. Thank you.

Please, wait here.

Perhaps we can hear the rustle of
long skirts and starched aprons.

The rattle of enamel cans and pans.

And the chink...

..of medicine bottles.

And always...

..the groans.

The sad cries.

And the telltale cough
of the dying.

Joyce.

I didn't mean for this to happen,
I really didn't.

Give me that. I didn't -
Jones, get these people out of here.

OK, everyone, this way. Follow me.

Liam?

I can't get any sense out of Liam.

Where is he? He came home.
He's hiding.

He's around here somewhere.

Please don't frighten him any more
than you have to.

He's scared enough already.
He's not the one we've come to see.

Adam Peach...

we've just been talking to
your daughter.

And Jessica is very worried
about her brother.

And we can understand her concerns
very well...

..because that young man witnessed
a terrible event tonight.

He saw his father kill a man.

And that will be with him forever.

Is that your wife?

She's beautiful.

Gerald Ebbs -

he also had someone to mourn.

No, he had no-one.

There was no-one for him.

I agree, he was a sad, lonely man.

Yet, in a strange way, he found
a way to deal with his loneliness.

He got himself a companion.

A girl who died 130 years ago.

And he also had the local cemetery
to grieve in, all to himself.

He had no right. He didn't belong
in the village.

Yes, I understand, whereas
your wife - She was born here.

Our family have lived in March Magna
for generations.

And yet you had to travel all the way
to Causton cemetery,

halfway across the county,
to visit her grave.

I know Causton cemetery.

A big, ugly, noisy place, right up
against the ring way there.

Not a place to leave your loved ones,
eh?

Not fair, Mr Peach, is it?
Not fair at all.

I mean, Gerald Ebbs' girl, she was
a complete stranger to the village

and yet you still tried
to put things right, didn't you?

Mr Peach, three years ago,
you made two applications

to the parish council for your wife
to be buried in March Magna.

On both occasions, you asked for
a special concession

because of your family's
longstanding in the village.

On both occasions, someone managed
to have your request turned down,

by insisting there were no burial
plots

and the site was of
historical importance.

And that someone was Gerald Ebbs.

The parish clerk.

He really put a stop to things
for you, didn't he?

And that, Mr Peach,

that is why you killed him.

You must have been so hurt,
so angry...

..when you saw him kneeling there.

Kneeling in worship
in that beautiful, peaceful place,

while denying you the right
to do the same thing.

I suppose you'd forgotten

that there might be other people
about that night.

That must have come as
a bit of a shock to you.

..but the spirits of long-dead
patients have often been seen here.

I saw something. Over there.

As a matter of fact, Jeff Bowmaker
hadn't seen you at all,

yet you couldn't be absolutely sure
of that, could you?

Especially not with a man of his
character.

So Jeff Bowmaker had to die.

And the old hospital.

Ideal place.

And yet, this time, someone did see
you.

Liam saw you.

Your son saw you.

Oh, for goodness' sake, Liam.

Sssh!

..in days gone by.

I suppose you might say

that all that talk about
the staircase being unlucky,

all that was true.

And always...

..the groans.

The sad cries.

And the telltale cough of the dying.

Jessica.

Come in. Come in, please.

Jessica...

..I think your father
has something to tell you.

Dad?

I'm sorry I made such a fool of
myself.

It won't happen again.

I just had to know...

That you were seeing things?

It's a sad place, this, isn't it?

Well, most graveyards are.

Yes, but this one in particular.

I mean, all the people here
are no older than Cully.

Hm. And each one, a stranger,
one to the other.

Except for Caroline Maria Roberts.

Come on, love. Home.

Tom?

What is it?

Er...it's nothing.

Let's go home.