Original subtitles

* Drink to me only

* with thine eyes

* and I will pledge

* with mine

* Or leave a kiss

* within the cup

* and I'll not ask

* for wine

* The thirst that from

* the soul doth rise

* doth ask

* a drink divine *

BOWMAKER: 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 3, 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.

BOWMAKER: 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.

* In the north far to thee *

* oh, the oak and the ash *

* and the bonny rowan tree *

* do flourish and hold *

* in the north country *

Aah!

Aah!

[Horn honks continuously]

Are you doing the Causton run?

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

There's been an accident.

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

You should've been taking more care.

And what were you and Cully doing?

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 the librarian on 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!

-Hmm.

BARNABY: Hi, love.

Hiya, Dad.

Talk to your father, will you?

He won't listen to me.

What?

Just been back to March Magna.

Searched the area.

But she's still convinced she could've hit someone?

Yeah, she is, but there's no bloodstains on the road

and the only marks on the road are

the skidmarks from her car.

And I ran a check -- 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.

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

Liam, please.

Don't you dare talk about people like that.

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

Don't know what you mean.

The way you hang around there.

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

Echo-o-o.

Do you want a coffee, Dad?

-No, I've got no time. I've lost a folder, a green folder.

You took it upstairs.

I was telling Mum I've got the use of Simon's car

while he's away, so she can borrow mine.

-Well, that's very kind of you, Cully.

Uh

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've been injured.

Will you listen to me?

They could've 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've been told.

What is it?

March Magna.

A body's been found.

Morning, sir. -Morning.

His name's Gerald Ebbs.

BARNABY: Who identified him?

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

Morning, Tom. -George.

Well, he would've died sometime during the night.

First impressions suggest

that he choked to death,

but, then, there's 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 tripped or fallen, somehow,

cracked his head against the stonework

and then rolled over, face

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 die?

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

but I suppose it could've 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 more work this week?

No. Nothing 'til 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.

Ha! Call that work?

Him and his ghosts.

STEPHENS: Is there anything else you can remember,

anything at all?

KENT: Yeah, well, that's all, really.

Mr. Kent, thank you.

Thank you so much for notifying us.

I'm Det Chief Insp 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 taste.

She and Gerald worked separate shifts.

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

He was 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.

BARNABY: And you come here most days, do you, Mr. Kent?

KENT: Uh --

-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 causes a lot of resentment.

Why's that?

People who've lived here all their lives,

they 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, sir.

The one with the long wall.

My wife could tell you more about it.

We're both historians.

She specializes 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?

Quite a few.

Good ones or bad ones?

-Mostly good.

At 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, because, if there was,

I would've 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.

Ugh.

Jess, what's the best thing about necrophilia?

Well?

You never have to say you're sorry.

WOMAN: Sir!

Hello, Mr. Kent. -Hello, Sarah.

I wonder if I might come in for a moment.

Yeah.

Anything wrong?

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.

Oh, he's not doing a number, is he?

Because, 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 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.

Yes!

WOMAN: Just there, sir, there.

[ Banging door knocker ]

Mrs. Faith Kent?

-Yes.

Good morning. I' m Det Chief Insp 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.

-Well, that's okay. 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? -Mm-hmm.

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 the March Magna cemetery?

None, that I can think of.

Interest in one, particular grave, perhaps?

No.

BARNABY: That is the hospital, isn't it?

It was always known as the St. Fidelis.

I'm doing a paper on it.

Oh. Your husband and you, do you work together?

Oh, no. Far too low-brow for him.

Talk to him about the Tudor constitution

or Renaissance English literature,

and you'll have a friend for life.

BARNABY: It was a forlorn- looking place, that.

FAITH: Mmm, people came from all over the UK

to be treated for tuberculosis.

And, I take it, they died?

-Well, TB was incurable, in those days, Mr. Barnaby.

Hence, the cemetery.

After you, sir. -Thank you.

Hello, again, Mr. Kent.

Mr. and Mrs. Bishop? -MARY: Yes.

I'm Det Sgt Jones,

and Det 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've. It might've livened him up.

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

No.

There were some in the village last night, on the Ghost Walk.

On the what?

KENT: The Ghost Walk.

Mr. Bowmaker,

our celebrated ghost guide, up to his tricks again.

And, 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

and he tries to make out the pub's haunted.

-Which isn't exactly good for business.

So there are no bad vibes here, then?

Oh! 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?

FAITH: The poor man hasn't been dead five minutes

and there you are, maligning him to complete strangers!

They were not just strangers, they were the police.

-Was this before you went to the pub, or afterwards?

What 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?

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

But 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!

Det Chief Insp Barnaby, Causton CID.

JESSICA: Is it about Gerald?

Yes, it is.

Was it the weather that killed him, then?

Only, it got quite cold, last night

and he wasn't the healthiest of individuals.

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

-Oh, he told you that, did he?

He didn't tell me; I just knew.

People talked about it.

I'm Adam Peach and this is my daughter, Jessica.

-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?

JONES: 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.

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.

At least 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.

Mmm. We met up at 7:30.

JONES: Who's "we"?

-Me and my customers.

Met at the usual place: Marsh Lane, opposite the pub.

Hmm. Here, it's in my brochure.

-Ta.

BOWMAKER: My Ghost Walk.

BARNABY: Well, if you and your customers --

JOHN: This is all we need:

the 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!

I mean, your earnings don't exactly

keep the wolf from the door, do they, John?

So what time did you and your clients --

your customers -- get to the cemetery?

Um, I'd say just before 9:00.

Did you see Gerald Ebbs there?

No.

Mmm!

One of them thought she saw something.

I looked, but I couldn't see anything.

JONES: 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 here forever,

Johnny.

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

How I despise everything Victorian.

The attitudes,

the kitsch, the cloying sentimentality.

Still, it wouldn't do, for us all to appreciate

the exact 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 in the March Magna Inn?

You call that being cheered up?

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

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.

You know, 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.

Mmm.

Mind you,

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

-Now, don't be silly.

You be good.

[Door opens and closes, John coughs]

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

not 'til they find who's done it.

-Bowmaker said there could've been someone

hanging around the cemetery last night; he told Alice.

He'd say anything. You should know that.

Anyway, the police have questioned him.

-All this is not going to do our old, historic village

a lot of good, is it, Mr. Kent?

-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.

* I'll do as much

* for my true love

* as any young man may

* I'll sit and mourn

* all on her grave

Joyce.

* For a twelve-month and a day **

Well?

The body we are dealing with

is that of a man who was murdered

in March Magna.

-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.

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.

Mmm, nice place.

So Gerald was murdered, then?

Yes.

-Who could've 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? Like me being the boss?

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

There's a jug in the washroom.

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.

BARNABY: Oh, dear. JONES: Hmm.

And there's all this.

He must've 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.

BARNABY: The place mentioned on the gravestone.

March Magna, as it was.

-And Sutton-on-the-Hill.

JONES: Same two places. Same time period.

He seems to have a real fixation on that grave.

Could the dead girl have been a long

I have no idea.

Where's that?

It says "The old hospital".

And back to the graves again.

BARNABY: "Caroline Maria Roberts".

Stop there!

"Not dead but sleepeth".

Here you are, Mum.

Just don't go driving into any more bushes.

-Thank you.

Ahem, I was 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.

Aah!

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.

I 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 Det Chief Insp 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?

Must've 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.

I think he and his mum moved here from Oxford

when he was a child.

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.

Hmm. Okay. Thank you very much.

Aaah!

Aaah-aah! Aah!

It's all right, Alice!

It's me!

Oh! Oh, oh, Jeff.

How could you do such a thing? -I'm sorry, Alice.

Oh, you frightened the life out of me.

-Just a bit of fun!

Fun? You call that fun?

It ceased being a hospital in the late 1940s, sir.

A private school.

Then, a visitors' center,

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.

BARNABY: Go 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've 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.

Yes. Work to do.

-I'm sorry. Just a couple of minutes, please?

Okay. -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.

Ah. 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 -- Look, in the um --

In the wall surrounding the hospital,

I came across what seemed to be an old archway

that had been bricked up.

Oh, that, yes. It used to be an entrance.

To the hospital.

The entrance was for members of staff -- doctors and nurses,

in particular.

Their accommodation was across the road

and they weren't allowed to be seen entering

through the main gates of the hospital.

-Sorry, I don't understand.

There was a certain stigma attached to TB

in Victorian times, Mr. Barnaby,

so not only did 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 makeup!

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.

Hmm. So what are you saying,

that it was just a morbid fascination, on his part,

that he was fixated on a dead woman?

It 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've been upset.

Upset? He was furious!

BOWMAKER: 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.

BOWMAKER: 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 license."

I've heard

there's a strange aura!

R-r-right here! Around this staircase.

This'll be where I do my big number.

-I've already explained to someone:

this area's supposed to be cursed,

but there are no ghosts here.

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

Hi, Dad. -Hey.

Have you seen that order for Marsh Farm?

The roses? No, why?

-It's gone missing.

Hmm. 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 favorites 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?

I don't.

So, when are you going to get rid of him?

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 bit of a risk.

-He lashes out.

Gerald's obsession with this particular grave,

why would that get him killed, do you think?

Sir.

Ah. Mr. Bowmaker.

BARNABY: Mr. Bowmaker, what can we do for you, sir?

JONES: 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.

But 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!

And 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'd like to buy my wife some flowers.

Oh, they're beautiful.

Yeah, 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, what flowers would you like?

Liam!

May I have a word, please?

About what?

I'm 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, 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.

Oh, 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.

Yeah, and I don't suppose it helps,

having these Ghost Walks through the village, yeah?

With their promise of an afterlife.

No. But no one should ever believe

what Jeff Bowmaker says.

Wouldn't you agree with that?

Oh, I couldn't possibly comment on that.

All right, then.

Can he be done for fraud?

-Aha! 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've 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.

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

Thank you.

* When the twelve-month

* and one day was past

* the dead began to speak *

* Oh, who sits weeping

* on my grave

* and will not let me sleep? *

Oh, please, Dad, mot more of Mum's boring music.

* And will not let me sleep? *

The lyrics, Cully, to this song --

* Cold blows the wind to my true love **

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

Of what?

That too much grieving will disturb the dead.

And, 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.

LIAM: Sarah?

There's a good boy.

Jeffrey!

-Alice.

What are you doing, there, hiding in the shadows?

I need to talk to you.

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

Well, what about us?

Well, what happens now, between us?

Well, could we --

Could we, perhaps, you know,

talk about this some other time?

But --

Ohh.

Right, time to go.

Open the door, then.

Any of you locals fancy joining tonight's

Ghost Walk?

ADAM: Ugh. JOHN: No, thanks.

MAN: He thinks he's so funny, doesn't he?

-You don't know what you're missing.

Large scotch and a smile, please, Mary.

If you can manage both.

-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.

Mmm! 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.

Make it even more weird. -Right, that's it!

-Get out. I've had enough.

Get out. Get out!

Go on! -WOMAN: Good riddance.

You are barred for life!

BOWMAKER: Really?

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

Like die.

WOMAN: Oh!

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, um, be careful, will you?

I have to go.

BOWMAKER: We come to the end of Chain Walk.

It's 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.

SHARP: Come on!

SHARP: It's about time someone livened up these Ghost Walks.

Liam. -Shh! I heard something.

Heard what?

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

BOWMAKER: 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.

WOMAN: Oh, goodness!

SHARP: Oh, look. See? That's perfect!

Hey, look.

Oh, that'll do.

Oh, for goodness' sake, Liam.

Liam, uh! Come back here!

Liam!

Oh, you little sod.

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?

BOWMAKER: And, here, rising above us,

is the staircase of the damned.

Follow me.

-JOYCE: Oh!

BOWMAKER: 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.

Aah!

Aaaah!

Aaaaaaaah!

Agh!

Aaah!

Aaaaah!

Aaaaaaah!

Aaaaah!

Oh!

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.

JONES: Okay, everyone, this way; follow me.

WOMAN: Ohh!

JONES: Come, come on.

Liam?

I can't get any sense out of Liam.

JONES: Where is he?

-He came home. He's hiding.

He's around here, somewhere.

Look, please don't frighten him, any more than you have to.

He's scared enough, already.

-It's all right. 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?

JONES: She's beautiful.

Gerald Ebbs -- he also had someone to mourn.

No, he had no one. There was no one for him.

BARNABY: 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 ringway, there.

Not a place to leave your loved ones, eh?

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

I mean, Gerald Ebbs's 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 long standing in the village.

But, 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.

BARNABY: You must've 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.

[Grunting, asphyxiating]

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.

BARNABY: As a matter of fact, Jeff Bowmaker hadn't seen you,

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.

Liam!

-Dad! -Shh.

BOWMAKER: This building

in days gone by.

BARNABY: 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.

Aaah!

Aaaaah!

Dad, Dad.

Dad, stop, please.

WOMEN: Aaah! Aaaaah!

Aaaaaaah! Aaah!

Aaaaah!

BARNABY: Jessica.

Come in. Come in, please.

Jessica, I think your father

has something to tell you.

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.

-Hmph!

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

Except for Caroline Maria Roberts.

Come on, love, home.

Tom?

What is it?

BARNABY: Uh, nothing. Let's go home.