All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders S13E04 The Silent Land

* 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.