All language subtitles for Father Brown (2013) - S09E02.eng

And a bag of scraps for the cat,
please, Mr Fredericks.

Certainly, Miss Nellins.

If she takes much longer
that lamb will have turned into mutton.

See you tomorrow.

Mrs McCarthy.

I haven't seen you
around Ruby's Cafe Americano yet.

You must come and try one of my "hot dogs".

You won't catch me eating a dog,
hot or otherwise.

Even during the war
we never had to sink that low.

Mrs McCarthy, and what will it be today?

Pork chops. Fresh, if you wouldn't mind.

I'm afraid last week's
were almost on the turn.

Good day, Mr Penmark.

And you know what day it is.

Yes, about the rent.

I just need to go to the bank.
I'll have that for you by closing time.

Make sure you do.

Mrs McCarthy.

See you at Mass tomorrow.

Thank you.

Help! Help!

The presbytery's on fire.

Can everybody stay back, please?

For your own safety's sake.

- Father Brown is in there!
- Mrs McCarthy, don't!

Mrs McCarthy, please!

Father Brown! Father!

Father! Father Brown!

Hello?

Surprise!

Happy birthday, Mrs McCarthy,

Yes, I put the cake in the oven

nipped down to the Red Lion
for a swift half

completely lost track of time.

Well, at least one of
us hasn't changed, Sid.

Yeah. When did you become a fireman?

Last time I saw you,
you was lugging a wheelbarrow around.

Uh, finished my training
a couple of months back, yeah.

Uniform helps with the ladies?

I wish.

The landlady's got a
strict "no guests" rule.

Especially female ones.

Mm, this is delicious, sir.

- You should try some.
- No thank you, Sergeant.

Since my last medical,
Mrs Mallory's got me on a strict diet.

She has spies everywhere.

Happy birthday, Mrs McCarthy.

Oh, Miss Nellins, what a pleasant surprise.

Miss Nellins offered
to help with the catering.

No dogs were harmed.

Now your move from America is permanent

will we be seeing you at Mass again?

I always remember you
and your sister belting out the hymns.

Not really my cup of tea
nowadays, Father. Sorry.

Oh, er, told you. It's the uniform.

No shame.

Just like her sister.

Mrs Langdon.

Frances Penmark was a sweet,
god-fearing young woman.

On the surface.

Before her accident

she was carrying on
behind Walter Penmark's back.

Oh, that's poppycock.

Frances barely left the house
except to go to church or the shops.

You're not suggesting
it was that dreadful butcher?

Oh, either way, I'm not one to gossip.

Especially as poor Frances
is not there to defend herself.

...In the current climate, I think you...

My properties are not
for sale, Mr Belcroft.

You cannot stop progress, Mr Penmark.

No.

But I can stop you.

I'll show myself out.

- Good morning.
- Good morning, Father.

- Morning.
- Father.

Hello.

- Good morning.
- Morning.

Sorry I'm late.

Mr Belcroft.

I understood you worshipped
at St John's in Hambleston.

I was raised an Anglican, Father,
but I keep an open mind.

- Oh.
- I wish to get to know Kembleford better.

One must understand a place
in order to improve it, don't you think?

I hear he's been buying up property
all over Kembleford.

Heaven only knows what for.

Father! I've a case for you.

A case?

I've seen you doing your investigating.

Someone has written the word "Grando"
on my lawn in paint.

And there's a dagger with wings on it.

"Grando", sounds like
some comic book character.

Probably just mischievous children.

Well, I want the little guttersnipe caught.

Well I'm afraid, Mrs Landon,
just now it is time for Mass.

We'll talk later.

# All ye who seek a comfort sure #

# In sorrow and distress #

# Whatever sorrow vex the mind #

# Or guilt the soul oppress #

Well, I'll see you at choir practice.

See you later.

Pub?

- And where have you been, Sidney Carter?
- Overslept, sorry.

Anyone seen Walter Penmark?

No, not since yesterday.

I can't remember
the last time he missed Mass.

Perhaps I should visit.

I don't like to think of him
alone in that big house.

Walter Penmark likes to be alone.

Apparently, he barely spoke a single word
to his poor wife, may she rest in peace.

Even so.

In any case, there is
a far more urgent matter to attend to.

Someone has been
vandalising church property.

Probably the same little miscreant
who painted Peggy Landon's back garden.

"Fames".

I know that look.

Yeah, so do I. It means "no pub".

Pff.

The door and window were
locked from the inside.

There's no open fireplace,
there's no sign of electrical fault.

No smoking paraphernalia.

There's not even a box of matches.

So he just sat at his desk
and burst into flames.

The fire investigator's
on his way down now.

He might be able to tell us more.

Padre, let me guess. You saw the smoke

and thought they were announcing
the next pope.

Walter Penmark was a member of my flock.

Can't you give us five minutes?
He's not going anywhere.

Can anyone else smell scotch?

Er, well, Mr Penmark was fond of a drink.

Even at this early hour.

Have you considered spontaneous combustion?

I read about it in Modern Wonder Magazine.

It's a rare and natural phenomenon.

Some people have been known
to suddenly burst into flames.

Feel free to demonstrate.

If you don't mind...

What the flaming Nora does "Ignis" mean?

It means it's murder.

Are you saying the drawing in the hymnal
is some kind of threat to me?

Ecclesiasticus 39:35.

“Ignis, Grando, fames et mors

haec omnia ad vindictam creata sunt.”

My Latin's a little rusty.

Ignis, fire.

Grando, hail.

Fames, famine.

Mors, death.

All of these were created for vengeance.

We think the wing dagger
symbolises an avenging angel.

And they've already claimed
their first victim.

An avenging angel.

Well, that would explain how they set fire
to someone inside a locked room.

We need a list of anyone in Kembleford
that you may have upset or offended.

I have never offended anyone in my life.

...None the less, Mrs McCarthy

if there is anybody at all
that you can think of.

Yeah.

Just in case.

Well, I suppose Mrs French
from the haberdashery

but that was just a misunderstanding
with the sewing circle.

It's a start.

Er... Mr Begley, ha. The music teacher
from the primary school.

Mr Begley, right.

Well, it was hardly my fault
that he was tone-deaf.

Oh, and there was that new veterinarian,
Mrs Barrington.

I had to ask her to leave the choir.

And Miss Cleary from the Salvation Army...

Well, she's just a difficult woman.

I should have asked her
to list the people she hasn't offended.

Where do we start, Inspector?

Peggy Langdon.
We'll warn her about the threat

and see if any of her nemeses
overlap Mrs McCarthy's.

- Mrs McCarthy!
- What?

We think you should stay
at the presbytery for the moment.

- So we can keep an eye on you.
- Yeah, till this thing's sorted

you consider me your
own personal bodyguard.

Oh, Sidney. Thank you.
You're both very kind.

- Father.
- Argh!

- Something the matter?
- You tell me, son.

Sid.

How can we help, Mr Belcroft?

I heard the terrible news about Mr Penmark.

Please do pas on my condolences
to any surviving family members.

I don't think there are any

apart from his sister-in-law, Miss Nellins.

Mr Penmark's wife died
before they were blessed with children.

Such a pity.

I must be getting on.

What's his game?

He's surely not after
Mr Penmark's properties.

The man's body's barely cold.

Perhaps we should see who else
stood to gain from Walter Penmark's death.

And go to the shops.

Well, you said "fames" means famine.

And if someone's trying
to starve me to death

well, they have another thing coming.

Because I am going to bake
like I have never baked before.

Things are looking up.

Did you hear what we said, Mrs Langdon?

Someone's threatening to...

What could anyone possibly have against me?

- Mrs Langdon!
- Just because somebody barbecued

that joyless snake of a man,
doesn't mean I'm in danger.

The message was probably meant
for one of my guests.

Anyone in mind?

We had someone stay last week.

Foreign, he was.

Definite shiftiness about the eyes.

Probably meant for him.

- Do you have a name?
- I'd have to look it up.

It was something...

foreign.

I think we're done.

Ah! What about my garden?

We will do our best
to apprehend the culprit, Mrs Langdon.

Too right. Hail, indeed!

You can kill a person with fire, yes.

But hail, in the middle of summer?

She does have a point, sir.

You've let your imagination
get the better of you, Inspector.

Someone's imagination's
got the better of me.

I should never have
listened to Father Brown.

- Thank you, Miss Nellins.
- Oh, Ruby, please.

After being in the States for so long,
I can't get used to all of this formality.

Hm, Ruby, then. How's business?

Picking up. Got a few regulars now.

I like the place. It's new. Different.

- Mm.
- If you, er...

ever decide to sell...

Talking of which, I was wondering...

who'll inherit
your late brother-in-law's properties?

I wouldn't know, I'm afraid.
If you'll excuse me...

You sure you won't have
anything to eat, Mrs McCarthy?

Well, if I could decipher this menu.

"Over easy". What's that supposed to mean?

No, no, I'll be quite content
with a bowl of soup

when I get home, thank you.

- Enjoy.
- Oh, I am.

My condolences, by the way.

Thanks, but I hardly knew Walter.

He and my sister married
after I moved away.

What made you decide
to come back to Kembleford?

I came back for Frances's funeral.

Seeing the place again, I guess,
Kembleford still felt like home.

Do they know how the fire started?

Not yet.

- Someone sent Walter Penmark a note.
- It was a threat.

- Would you know anyone who...
- No.

I mean, I know Walter raised the rents
of some of his tenants recently.

Mr Fredericks wasn't so happy about it.

But I can't imagine that anything would...

Where is she? Where is she?

Can you spare any change?

- The old dears have wiped me out.
- Of course.

How much do you need?

I'm so sorry. I just...
I am going home!

Subvenite, sancti dei,
occurite angeli domini...

Thank you, Mrs Cottrell.

We'll give you a knock
if we have any further questions.

- What's happened? Is that...
- Your landlady.

Blow to the head.
Probably killed instantly.

Mind telling me
your whereabouts this evening?

I was at the station on duty.

And then Ruby's cafe for a bite to eat.

Inspector.

Found something, sir.

Please say it's a signed confession.

Not exactly, sir.
It was on the kitchen table.

Richard Belcroft.

He came to see Mrs Langdon yesterday.

He wanted to buy the guesthouse.

She told him where to go.

Check Mr Belcroft's whereabouts
for this evening.

As for you, this is a
crime scene, so scram.

Only prints in the flowerbed
belonged to the victim.

No sign of a weapon, and yet somehow
she has had her skull caved in.

Like she was struck by a deadly blow
from on high, sir.

Ice.

Ice?

Well, look. The lawn is dry, except
for a wet patch by the victim's head.

She was struck on the head
by a large block of ice from above.

Like a giant hailstone.

Here we go again.

It's probably thrown from the roof...

or a window.

And the coin in her hand was a lure

- to get her into the right position.
- Why bother

when you could simply walk up
and smack her over the head?

To make it appear like an unsolvable crime

that could only be committed
by an avenging angel.

Like a man, burnt to
death in a locked room.

We don't even know that was murder

until we get the fire
report and post mortem.

"Ignis" is fire.

"Grando" is hail.

Murders.

Trust me.

Only problem is...

where did someone get
a large block of ice in Kembleford

on a hot summer's day?

Wakey, Wakey, sleepy head.

Ah, cabbages!

You must have dozed off.
I brought you a cup of tea.

You should've woken me.
I was supposed to be on guard.

Well, I'm still alive, no thanks to you.

Poor Peggy Langdon.

An acquired taste, no doubt

but, well, she didn't deserve
what happened to her.

What are you sneaking around for?

I thought you might still be asleep.

No, not me. Wide awake, reporting for duty.

Good.

I've been doing some research.

There are three deep-freeze-making machines
in Kembleford

capable of making a large block of ice.

One in Mr Frederick's shop,
one in Ruby's cafe

and one in the private residence
of Mr Richard Belcroft.

Which of those three have you cheesed off?

None of them.

If you have, now would be
a very good time to make amends.

The chops fresh enough
for you, Mrs McCarthy?

Very satisfactory, thank you.

- I can vouch for that. Delicious.
- And what's on the menu today?

An apology.

Is that so? And what for, exactly?

That letter to the council

suggesting you had
an infestation of rodents.

That was me, and I am very sorry.

I knew it.

See, I never had a single rat in this shop.

In Mrs M's defence, she did have
several people talk about rats.

But did you ever see one for yourself?

Well, not exactly.

I was already struggling with my rent.

And now half my best customers
are staying away from my shop.

And for that, Mrs McCarthy is truly sorry.

Very much so.

I know why you're apologising.

You think it was me, don't you?

- Excuse me?
- I was in church with you

when Mr Penmark got roasted.

As for Mrs Langdon,
I was here, mopping my floor

with half of Kembleford
walking past my window.

Well, perhaps if you sliced your bacon
to a reasonable width

and refrained from bulking out
your sausages with breadcrumbs...

How dare you!

- Why don't we all calm down?
- You're barred.

- I beg your pardon?
- Will, you get out my shop. You're barred.

- Perhaps...
- Out!

I think we should do as he says.

You organised a petition.

Well, I was concerned that your cafe might
damage Kembleford's traditional character.

But now, of course I realise
that it is an invaluable asset

and I am very sorry.

Apology accepted.

After all, my sister often wrote to me
saying how kind you were to her.

She said that you were always there
to help out or give a word of advice.

I was very fond of Frances.

So, now that we've made up

you must try one of my hot dogs.

- Oh, I'm not sure that I...
- I insist.

I've got to get me one of those.

If it helps, the Queen Mother has tried one

in a picnic with Eleanor Roosevelt.

Well, can I at least have a knife and fork?

When in Rome, Mrs McCarthy.

Was the cafe open yesterday night?

Until eight, yes.

Many customers?

Not really. Some kids in for ice cream

and a couple from the campsite up the road.

Why do you ask?

I was wondering if anyone else
had access to your deep-freeze?

Just me. It's in the store room.
I have the only key.

With hindsight, being starved to death
might have been preferable.

Oh, speak for yourself.
I could have gone again.

Ah, Mrs McCarthy.

The lab tests are back.
Mr Penmark was drugged.

Barbiturates, probably.

No sign of smoke inhalation, though,
so likely he died before the fire.

I just wanted you to know,
because it means he wasn't, er...

Well, you know.

Burnt alive?

Exactly.

Some consolation.

Oh, great.

So there's a chance
the murderer might drug me first!

And we still have no idea
who's behind all this.

Not true.

Gideon Fredericks and Ruby Nellins
might have had the means to make ice

but both of them had an alibi
for Peggy Langdon's murder.

So that just leaves Mr Belcroft.

Who, it seems,
was trying to purchase properties

from both of the victims.

Properties they were not keen to sell.

That still doesn't explain
why he'd want to kill me.

I barely know the man.

Except...

Peggy Langdon said
that Frances was having an affair

before she died.

Well, what if the man she was seeing
was Richard Belcroft?

Well, I don't see how that connects to you.

A few weeks before her death,
Frances came to see me

and she wanted to know
if it was always a sin

to end a marriage.

What was your response?

Well, I explained that marriage
is very often difficult

and that she had made
a commitment before God

and that she should try to make it work.

But what if she ended her relationship
with Mr Belcroft because of my advice

and now...

now he's hell-bent on wreaking his revenge?

Sid, go back to the presbytery
with Mrs McCarthy and look after her.

I'm going to speak
with Richard Belcroft, alone.

You sure that's a good idea?

I know a safe place.

Mr Belcroft, thank
you for your punctuality.

Your message said it was important.

Matter of life or death.

Isn't that a matter for the police?

Humour me.

The properties you are
buying in Kembleford.

What do you want them for?

Holiday cottages.

Guesthouses.

Local industry is dying
and tourism is the future.

Walter Penmark and Peggy Langdon
stood in the way of your business plans...

and Mrs McCarthy has, as it turns out

inadvertently got in the way
of your amorous intentions.

Oh, I can assure you

I have no amorous intentions
towards Mrs McCarthy.

Frances Penmark?

What led you to the misguided opinion
that I might be involved?

Your deep-freeze.

That's an extravagance, I know

but part of my quest to drag Kembleford
into the modern world.

Or it would be,
if the blasted thing wasn't on the blink.

- It's not working?
- It keeps cutting out.

Sent it away to be repaired last week.
Weighs a ton.

Had to pay my old gardener
to pick it up in his van.

You see, Father...

I don't have to murder people
to solve my problems.

I have money for that.

Why are they doing this to me?

We'll get to the bottom of this.
This was left on her doorstep.

Looks like a pig's tongue

with artistic embellishment.

Yeah, well, I've had enough of this.

Father, you'd better go after him.

- No, I will be fine.
- Lock the door after me.

I will.

Sid!

Sid!

- Where are you going?
- To end this.

But we don't know who sent it.

Oh, who else has pig tongues
lying around?

And he has stopped her
from buying food in the shop.

Ber?
"Famine", remem.

- We need to talk...
- Well, I am done talking.

Look. Me and Mrs M,
we haven't always seen eye to eye

but whenever I've needed a hot meal,
nice cup of tea, place to stay

whenever I have needed someone
to tell me I am being an idiot

she was there.

So if someone wants to mess with Mrs M...

they're going to have to deal with me.

- What are you playing at?
- Excuse me?

This tongue. You sent that
to Mrs McCarthy, didn't you?

Why would I send her free meat
when she's barred from my shop?

Don't get clever with me
or I'll shove that tongue down your throat.

That came out wrong.
Sid.

Don't pick a fight
with a man holding a meat cleaver.

So you should listen to the good Father.

- You killed them, didn't you?
- Not guilty.

Why should I believe you?

Peggy Langdon has been
a customer of mine for years.

As for Mr Penmark

I won't pretend I'll shed a tear over him.

He was a cruel man, and I was not surprised

when I heard about his wife's accident.

How do you mean, Mr Fredericks?

I know the mechanic
who pulled that poor woman's car

out of the river at Fernley Bridge.

It was a dry day.

No skid marks
and the brakes were working fine.

If she went over the side,
it's because she meant to.

Here to quote more Latin at me, Padre?

As a matter of fact,
I came to bring you this.

That is very generous

but next time,
a bottle of single malt would suffice.

It was left at the presbytery...

addressed to Mrs McCarthy.

I see. um...

Log that, will you?
And make sure you wrap it in something

- or it'll stink out the evidence room.
- Yes, sir.

We'll be in touch if there's any more news.

I hope you weren't divulging details
of an ongoing investigation?

Course not, sir.

Here you go.

Don't worry, it'll be our secret.

I've been thinking.

Seeing as how the culprit
can pass through locked doors

leave no footprints and what-have-you

you don't think that Frances Penmark
has come back from beyond the grave

to avenge herself on
those that wronged her?

No.

Anything?

On the day Frances Penmark died

Walter Penmark was away on business.

And with her sister
already in the United States

the body was identified by their gardener.

Only there's no name.

Well, maybe have a word with the
neighbours, see if they knew who it was?

No need.

Father.

Mrs Langdon's sister's coming up
from Devon to sort the place.

I said I'd make a start.

You worked for Mr and Mrs Penmark,
didn't you?

Er...

did a bit of gardening for them,
if that's what you mean.

That's how you knew
about Walter Penmark's drinking.

He was a proud man.

He worked hard to keep that a secret.

You handed in your notice
when Frances Penmark died.

It must have been difficult
for you to go back there.

Well, I left to train
to be a fireman, Father.

Serve my community.

How long were you and Mrs Penmark in love?

She was trapped...

in an unhappy marriage.

Her husband locked himself in his study

working long hours...

and there were you...

Just outside her window.

Your landlady cottoned on, didn't she?

And when Frances discovered
Mrs Langdon was spreading rumours

of her infidelity

she went to an old friend for advice.

Mrs McCarthy told her
to stay with her husband, which she did.

But she couldn't crush the guilt...

or the loneliness.

The police report was inconclusive.

But you must have known it was suicide.

You don't know what you're saying.
I was their gardener.

That's all.

You wanted revenge...

on the husband who made her miserable...

on the gossip who
forced her into a corner...

and on the friend who convinced her
to turn her back on you.

She was like...

sunlight on a spring morning.

And she loved me and I know she did.

We could have been happy, Father.

So.

You delivered the note to Walter Penmark

and you went back later, drugged him

and set him on fire.

First on the scene

it was easy for you
to slip the key back in the lock

on the inside of the door.

Then you killed Peggy Langdon...

with a block of ice

from Richard Belcroft's deep-freeze.

That freezer went straight to the workshop.

And... and as for Mr Penmark, well...

check the fire report.

Alcohol was an accelerant.

He'd have gone up in a flash.

But I was in church for a whole hour

before anyone even saw a wisp of smoke.

You had an accomplice.

Someone who had a deep-freeze of their own.

Someone who could give you an alibi

for the time of Peggy Langdon's death.

Who loved Frances Penmark as much as you.

Someone who travelled halfway
round the world to get revenge.

May I?

Oh, please.

Now, help yourself to my scones,
as many as you like.

I'm afraid I got a bit carried away
this morning.

You do seem to have rather a lot.

I actually came to offer my catering
services at the next church fete.

Oh really?

I didn't think you were
exactly fond of the church.

I am fond of Kembleford.

And I spent a lot of time
in the church as a girl.

Sunday school.

Learning right from wrong.

I mustn't have rinsed the pot out properly.
It tastes funny tea...

It was all nonsense, of course.

But Frances swallowed every word of it.

- Miss Nellins...
- So when a stupid old woman

told her that she would rot in hell

unless she stayed with her cold-hearted,
abusive husband...

Frances believed her.

I had no idea what she was going through.

Well, let me inform you...

because she told me in her letters

...she feared for her life.

Every single day.

You stupid woman!

You're making it worse. Leave it!

Get out!

Please! I...

I was only trying to help.

I really don't want to die.

I don't want you to die. Not yet.

Not here, anyway.

But come on, chop-chop.

You've only got a few more moments
of consciousness left

and I'd hate to have to carry you.

Alright. I...

I'll do whatever you say.

Smile and walk. That's all.

Call out or try to run

and I'll just change my plans
and Kill you on the spot.

Now move.

You were in pain.

You lost the woman you loved.

But this ends now.

What are you planning
to do to Mrs McCarthy?

Don't make me run, Mick.
Don't make me...

Nice try.

- What are you planning?
- You'll see.

Father...

that smoke's coming from the presbytery.

What about him?

What have you given me?

Just a little something
I brought over from the States.

It's all the rage over there.

In small doses, it helps you
to lose weight, allegedly.

Too much, though, and your blood sugar
drops through the floor.

You lose consciousness, fall into a coma...

and die.

Very much like starving to death,
but quicker.

Please... Father...

Mrs M? Mrs M, are you in here?

Hello?

Mrs M!

- No sign of her.
- Nor Miss Nellins.

The cafe's locked.

- Do you think the smoke's a distress call?
- Probably.

Then where is she?
I'm going to check her house.

Wait.

Walter Penmark and Peggy Langdon both
died where they received their messages.

Him in the study, her in the garden.

Mrs M got hers in...

Sweet dreams.

Must dash.

Mr Belcroft has offered to buy my cafe.

I'm returning to America.

I was going to get a doctor.

Mrs McCarthy is unwell.

Mrs McCarthy.

Can you hear me?

- What have you done?
- Me? Nothing!

Don't lie, Ruby.

You're in a house of God.

It always comes back to God.

Fetch an ambulance. Hold on.

Please.

She can't hear you.

It's appropriate that it ends here,
where it all began.

The hypocrisy, the petty malice.

Do you blame God for your sister's death?

I blame people...

for making Frances feel ashamed and afraid.

That's why the winged dagger
is so appropriate.

A symbol of violence and fear
masquerading as righteousness.

Do not sully your sister's memory

by speaking of this as an act of love.

What do you think your sister would feel

seeing you destroying the lives
of others in her name?

Destroying your own life?

I don't care what happens to me.

You will.

When the dust settles...

and the grief is still there...

and you realise that your vengeance
has achieved nothing.

Solved nothing.

And this will haunt you
for the rest of your life.

Ambulance is coming.
It's going to be a while.

What have you given her?

It's too late.

- Not if I wring your neck; It's not.
- Sid.

Bridget... God is with you.

He will help you to fight this.

Why, Ruby?

If it hadn't been for Mrs McCarthy

Frances would have left Walter.
She could have been happy!

Listen to your heart.

Frances would not have wanted this.

And what about what I want?

I want my sister back.

I want this pain to stop.

This pain...

it's guilt.

Guilt that you weren't there.

Guilt that you couldn't save her.

But you can save her friend...

because whatever advice Mrs McCarthy gave

she was her friend.

And she's my friend too.

And I am begging you...

don't let my friend die.

Chemist.

Activated charcoal.

I just want my sister back.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.

Benedictus tu in mulieribus.

Benedicta fructus ventris tui.

Iesus Christus.

Mick Bidley didn't get far.

We nabbed him trying to get
on a bus in Hambleston.

Put up a bit of a fight,
but nothing my men couldn't handle.

And Ruby Nellins has
made a full confession.

- I shall pray for them both.
- Poor Frances.

I only wish she'd told me everything.

Maybe I could have done more to help her.

Your words came with the best intentions.

Still...

I'll be more careful
about what advice I offer in the future.

And after what happened to Peggy Langdon.

I certainly won't be listening
to any more idle gossip.

Oh, I'm glad to hear it, Mrs M.

Oh, by the way,
I had a word with Mr Fredericks

and he's agreed to let
you back in the shop.

Reckons under the circumstances,
you've been punished enough.

Oh, that's very civil of him.

We'll leave you to rest.

That's the third gentleman caller
she's had today.

- What?
- Nothing.

I wasn't casting aspersions.

We're just really glad
that you're on the mend, Mrs M.

Yes.