03x10 - Once Upon a Time - Christmas Special 2024 part 1

[bunniefuu]

"Once upon a time,
there was a beautiful princess

"with hair as golden as the sun.

"Her father told her
if she was virtuous and pure,

"then one day she would marry
a handsome prince."

Right!

Ah, before we get to business,
felicitations are in order

to our chairman, Aubrey Frobisher,
and his new bride, Bunny,

on their recent... well,
dare I say, whirlwind nuptials.

HE CHUCKLES, SHE GIGGLES

I managed to persuade
her to join our humble troupe.

She was an actress, you know.

Yeah, well, I gave up treading
the boards when I met Aubrey.

We just couldn't stand to be apart.

Theatre's loss was our gain.

Oh, sweet man!

I would be happy to add a
touch of professional stardust

into your little pantomime.

HE CLEARS THROAT
Er, well, um...

Four weeks to our opening night
on 23rd of December,

so we have got our work cut out.

First and foremost,
the appointment of a director.

AUBREY: Ah, now, although
this is a break from tradition,

I would like to propose the
appointment of a guest director.

Now, you may know
that Jonas Blake has recently

taken up residence
in Great Slaughter.

He was writing
nearby and came to see Aubrey

for some investment advice.

Who is Jonas Blake?

BUNNY MURMURS

Well, only the
hottest playwright in town.

He penned Sir Laurence Olivier's
new hit play

at the National Theatre.

Yeah, a splendid chap,
despite being an Australian.

He's keen to get
involved in the community.

When he heard about the pantomime,
he offered to sharpen our script

and offered his services
as director.

Well, I rather think
I've proved MY director's mettle

in my - in the critics' words -

"triumphant rendering
of Three Men In A Boat."

Robbie.

Er... A-A directorial feat.

Well, undoubtedly a triumph, Samira.

But this is enormous.

Audiences and
critics will flock to see

Jonas Blake's first foray
as a director.

In which case, as one of
our most esteemed actresses,

shouldn't you be in the spotlight,
not behind it?

He hinted...

that Laurence Olivier...

is going to attend our last night.
GASPS, MURMURS

That would show Deirdre Glenister!

TOM SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY

Indeed!

What do the statutes say, Dotty?

Um...

Clause 18, subsection 5 -

"The exclusions allow participation
of nonmembers

"if the appointment is ratified
by a vote."

TAPPING
All those in favour.

The eyes of the
world will soon be upon us.

This must be GSADS' biggest
and best performance yet.

AUBREY CHUCKLES
Yes.

Hear, hear.

CAWING

NUNS:♪ O come, O come, Emmanuel

♪ And ransom c*ptive Israel

♪ That mourns in lonely exile here

♪ Until the Son of God appear. ♪

This year's panto cast
needs swelling.

Oh. And my little birdie tells me

that you have a fine singing voice,
WPC Button.

I mean, perhaps you could be
our Cinderella.

Go on, then, sir.

I suppose every girl dreams
of playing Cinderell-er!

Livingstone. Gillespie.

Acting's not really my bag, sir.

No, the GSADS are not for me, sir.

Oh. Sir, I will say I am
quite intrigued by this pantomime.

So... the principal boy's played
by a girl? Mm-hm.

And then the dame is a man?

And the audience spend the entire
performance heckling the actors?

Ah...

My error, in giving the impression
that that was a request.

I want you both washed and brushed
and ready to audition at 3pm sharp,

and that is an order.

FELIX SIGHS

SAM SIGHS

It still looks a few pounds
short of a Christmas feast.

Dare we say, a little
on the scrawny side?

She won't like that.

Here! Watch who you're calling
scrawny.

He's well muscled. In't you, Terry?

Oh! The Sunday School Medley
are auditioning for the pantomime

this afternoon, so
I need volunteers to chaperone.

Sunday School Medley.

Sister Reginald, you are excused.

Your time would be better used
fattening that bird,

or there'll be no second helpings
for anyone.

Cushty.

Which leaves you two. Mm?

BOTH: Yes, Reverend Mother.

I wish I'd been in a pantomime.

I see no reason why not.

You were raised
in the Australian outback.

Son of a sheep farmer.

And Jonas Blake is a nom de plume?
A stage name.

I started out as an actor,

and Dwayne Baker from Kookaburra
Gull didn't quite have the ring.

Why did you give up acting?

I was terrible at it.

Fortunately, I discovered
I was better at writing lines

than chewing them.

Tell us how the angry man
of Melbourne

has come to be directing
a provincial pantomime.

I'm writing a companion piece
to my Tony Award-winning Rift

entitled Nadir,
and I hope to direct it.

It's a chance
to flex my directorial muscles.

I promise you a
pantomime like no other.

Thank you for your time, Mr Blake.

You have an interesting face.

Innocent, yet full of angst.

Are you trying your luck today?

Copy to fill, deadlines to meet.

Hi, Peggy. Hello, Norman.

It is a lot of time

locked up in close proximity
in a small group for weeks on end.

It can get emotionally...

WHISPERS: intense.

Sister Boniface, Sister Peter, make
sure the children behave themselves.

CHILDREN SQUEAL

Oh, right.

Children!

Settle down. Children, please!

Charlotte, do not eat that.
Put it down.

No, not THERE!

No hair-pulling, Clive!

Or throttling! Kevin!

Stop! Police!

Any more of this,

and I could have you
arrested for breach of the peace.

Hands on heads.

Form a line.

BELL CHIMES
All yours, Sister.

God bless you.

This way, children.

Miraculous timing.

They are quite a handful.

Are you here on police business?

If auditioning
for CC Lowsley counts.

But we're only signing on
for walk-ons.

On the brighter side, we could
expand our social circles.

I don't want to.

Nonsense.
We've come too far to give up now.

This is Wilf Wilson,
who would like to sign up.

I hardly think that's appropriate.

He's an altar boy at St Vincent's.

And if High Mass isn't drama,
I don't know what is.

I can concur with that.

Well, I wonder what the
staff at Grimley Chase would feel

about one of their patients
gallivanting off at all times.

I've spoken to the warden,
who agrees that Wilf can be trusted

to get himself
to and from rehearsals.

Reverend Mother lent me a bicycle.

Hmm.

That may be...

WHISPERS: but I don't think
the audience would like to see

someone like him onstage.

Actually, we do have a vacancy

for assistant props master.

How does that sound?
It sounds important.

Oh, yes, it is. Very.

Well, shall I put you down? Please.

Excellent.

Come on. Let's go.

"The princess
grew up virtuous and pure,

"and one day she
met a handsome prince.

"He said he loved her
and gave her a golden egg.

"But the handsome prince
turned into a frog."

My love?

Have you...

thought about Jonas' proposal
for his new play?

Oh, I prefer to risk my
money on something less fickle

than theatre audiences.

HE HICCUPS
Oh, Aubrey Bear...

Ooh!

As his investors,

think of all the people we'll meet,

and all the parties.
You could show me off to the world.

Well, I think I'd
rather keep you for myself!

Oh!

Woof, woof!

Meow!

Miranda!

Must you always
creep up on us like that?

You're late. Jim's lame.

I had to put a poultice on. You
spend too much time at the stables

when you should
be out meeting people.

Yeah, a few new clothes
and some decent make-up

wouldn't go amiss either. So I can
snag myself a rich husband?

That's enough, Miranda.

I have said that you'll
help backstage at the pantomime.

No, thanks.

Er, as long as you're under my roof,

you'll do as you're told,
young lady. Is that understood?

Oh, honey bunny. Come here.

Peggy Button made
a charming Cinderella.

Mm. I mean, can you
believe that Bunny Frobisher

had the audacity to audition?

Cinderella
is an innocent young maiden,

and she's... neither.

As for actress, no-one
seems to know what she was in.

Gwen Pike had it from Doris Pound
that she played bit parts

in a Shoreditch variety theatre.

Mm. Aubrey Frobisher will
rue the day, you mark my words.

I...
SHE GASPS

Has the cat got your tongue?

She's got...

an eye!

CAT MEOWS

Oh, dear.

Is that it?
The Great Slaughter wreath thief?

How many have been stolen?

Um, well, two so far.

One being Miss Thimble's,
who may well have mislaid it.

Oyez! Oyez!

Casting is announced!

Ha-ha! Well done, everybody.

Oh, and, um, special congratulations
to you, Mr Whalley,

for bagging Buttons. I'm Buttons?
Mm-hm.

Peggy Buttons,

looks like we may be
spending a lot more time together!

I wouldn't count on it.

I'm Buxom Wench 3.
Crowd rehearsals only.

Bunny Frobisher is your Cinderella.

Frightening woman in the furs?

Our director wants to add more...

maturity to the role.

Hey, well,
at least I'm not Horstensia.

Hmm? Who's Horstensia?

You are.

And so are you, Inspector Gillespie.

Well, splendid stuff.

Oh, and don't forget -
costume fittings this afternoon.

What's wrong?
BELL DINGS

Hello? Excuse me. Emergency.

We wish to report a mutilation.

Any thoughts, Sister?

Well, it's definitely human.

Lack of decomposition
suggests it was removed recently.

Claw and beak
marks indicate by a bird.

Medium-sized scavenger,
so possibly a crow.

Who then dropped
it for Tibbles to find.

There are signs of active bleeding.

Which means?

The victim was alive
when the eye was removed.

Excellent news, Sister.

Obviously not for the victim.

TOM SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY

How's that feeling, Tom?

TOM SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY

Bill!

Could we add a little extra
padding...

downstairs? OK.

Mr Frobisher! You must be Miranda.

I've assigned you as props mistress.

Oh, and this is Wilf.

Your assistant props master.

Well, I'll just
let you get on with it.

Hello.

Hello.

Are you sure this was a good idea?

It's bad enough at home,
with her looming like a black cloud.

I did warn you she was difficult.
But don't worry, my darling,

I'll do something about her,
I promise.

As long as we're rid of her.Mm.

Oh! Cheeky!
HE CHORTLES

I'm... I'm sorry.

My family didn't want me either.

You don't know anything about me.

Please, just keep your nose
out of my business.

We've been checking
missing persons,

and we think
we need to mount a search.

But it's taking a lot of time,
so I'm afraid we're going

to have to bow out of the pantomime.
Hang on, hang on.

The eye was pecked out by a bird,
you say?

So that gives us
a search radius of...

Well, literally
as far as the crow flies.

Well, that's an impossible task.

See if Sister Boniface
can narrow it down a bit.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

And in the meantime,
I think police resources

would be better utilised elsewhere.

Giddy up!

Can someone show
me to my dressing room?

We're a democratic troupe.

The artistes all muck in together
in the green room.

Mr Blake, can you spare a moment?

Anything for my leading lady.

This leading lady
doesn't have a dressing room,

and I need privacy
to hone my performance.

Well, we wouldn't
want you unprepared.

I'm sure, um...

Vera.
..Vera can sort something out.

I'm sorry I was so filthy.

I was seething, but I didn't mean
to take it out on you.

It's OK.

What did you mean when you
said your parents didn't want you?

I was a...

deviant.

So they sent me to the orphanage.

And I'm grown up now.

I live at Grimley Chase.

The asylum?

Do you like it?

HE SIGHS

Everyone's old,
and they're all poorly.

I don't have any friends.

Neither do I.

Girls my age are
only interested in boys,

whereas I prefer horses.

I could be your friend.

I love animals,

and I promise
I won't talk about boys.

It's a deal.

Why do I have to be the back?

Because the senior officer
always leads from the front.

My family better
not find out about this.

"The princess returned
to her father's castle,

"but he was angry
his daughter had married a frog

"and so cast her
out into the winter snow,

"where she would freeze,
and her eyes pecked out by crows."

Hmm. Intriguing.

Ladies and gentlemen,
thank you, one and all,

for sharing my vision -

to reenvisage the genre
by returning to Aschenputtel,

the Brothers Grimm original.

After all, real fairy
tales don't have happy endings.

This isn't what I asked for at all.
This won't do.

My proscenium has been much admired.

Red, green, blue, yellow.

It's all so... primary. Ugh.

Whereas I see monochrome.

Light and dark,
representing the battle

between good and evil and,
in between, every shade of grey.

Ha! Genius.

Very Gormenghast.Yes.Excellent.

Who? This will be a pantomime
like no other.

Together, we will make history.

Hear, hear!

APPLAUSE

I have no idea
what he's talking about.

That makes two of us, Dotty.

Are you sure
you're feeding him properly?

Yes.

Best quality cornmeal,

mixed with oats, because
he's a bit of a feather plucker,

and raisins.
Very fond of his raisins.

Then, why isn't he getting
any bigger? I wondered that.

Perhaps there's
something wrong with him.

What, like bird virus?

Maybe to play on the safe side,

we should get a turkey
from Ted Button this year.

We took vows of chastity,
obedience and poverty.

When God gave Abraham
the ram in the burning bush,

did he say, "No, thank you, Lord,

"I'll get a bigger one
from the butcher"?

Double his rations.

Right you are.

CC Lowsley insists we narrow
the area before we mount a search.

Yes, I thought he might.
Can you do that?

Negative.
Any forensic evidence was removed

when Mrs Clam put the eyeball
in a jar of pickling vinegar.

So we're stumped, then?
No. On the contrary.

The eye has its window to the body
as well as the soul.

I'm currently building up
a medical profile of the victim

which may help us identify him.
From a pickled eyeball?

Well, Horatio Nelson and I have been
spending quite some time together.

Yes. Although there is a


And what have they
told you about themselves?

Well, they're aged 70 to 80,
judging by the stage of a cataract.

The pterygium growth suggests
they spent a lot of time outside.

They're diabetic
and they needed glasses

for long sight and astigmatism.

So we're looking
for an elderly person

that likes the
outdoors and wears glasses.

Well, that's half
of Great Slaughter, Sister.

If I can measure
the focal distance of the lens,

then I can mock up the prescription

and see if the optician
recognises it.

Excellent work, Sister.

And sooner rather than later.

For all we know,
the victim could still be alive.

Woohoo! Cooee!

Step-Papa!

Je suis revenu!

Vulgaria! Dyspepsia!

How was your trip to Paris?

Absolument fantastique...

Oh, Paris!

We saw it all.

Christine Die-or, Channel,

Yves Saint Laur-ent...
That awful tower!

That wasn't the Eiffel Tower
you saw.

That was your ugly mush
in the mirror.

FAKE LAUGHTER

Can we speed it up, please,
Buttons?

And maybe a tad
less of the grimacing.

This thing's heavier than it looks.

Positions! Pick up from Hardup,
"What's that?" Er, yes.

What's that?
The rest of their shopping!

We ran out of suitcases,
so we had to buy a wardrobe.

Girls, you're bankrupting me!

I might have to... get a job!

My grandfather always used to say,
as one door closes, another opens.

Lovely man, terrible carpenter.

BANGS WARDROBE

THUD!

SHE SCREAMS

Cause of death appears
to be a stab wound to the heart.

Serrated edges suggest
a jagged blade

approximately
two inches in diameter.

Query some kind of hunting knife.

Redness and irritation
around the mouth

and the rope marks to his wrists

suggest that he was chloroformed
and tied up before being stabbed.

This wasn't in the heat
of the moment.

Rigor mortis has set in.

Seems he's been dead for
at least six to eight hours.

What was Aubrey doing here
well before rehearsals?

Perhaps this
has something to do with it.

Look, the last entry
in his notebook.

Henson, CFYC, Wheels.

Hmm.

OK, let's make a search
for the knife and take statements

from everyone that was here.

I'll see if his wife or daughter
can shed some light on this.

His daughter went home in shock.

I'm not sure Mrs Frobisher
is fit for interview.

Well, we'll check back in
with them in the morning, shall we?

I said I wasn't to be disturbed.
Police are here, ma'am.

Oh, I was just
looking for photographs.

We were only married a few short
weeks and I have so few memories.

How did you and your husband meet?

At a restaurant in London.

A widow and a widower,
dining alone

and somehow we got talking.

After my husband died,

I never thought I'd find love again.

And then this wonderful man
swept me off my feet and...

I'm sorry. We were so happy.
I'm sorry.

SHE SOBS

Thank you.

When was the last time
you saw your husband? Um...

Around midday yesterday.

He was supposed to be taking me out
for lunch,

but he had to dash off for a meeting
with Samira Rowbotham.

He was a frightful grump.

And that was the last time
I ever saw him.

My poor Aubrey.

Who would do this to him?

Did your husband have any enemies?

Other than the obvious.

He was sending her away, you know?

SHE CLICKS TONGUE
Here, boy!

I need someone to fetch my wrap
from my dressing room.

Can you manage that?

His name's Wilf.

He's not here to fetch and carry
for the likes of you.

Miranda, show some respect
to your stepmother.

For what?

Being a mutton dressed as a lamb
gold-digger?

HE SPLUTTERS
How dare you?!

You are a rude, insolent brat,

who thankfully, I won't have
to put up with for much longer.

Are you going to tell her,
Aubrey? Or am I?

We've decided
it's time you were independent.

You have a place at secretarial
college in Edinburgh

starting in the New Year.
No, I don't want to go.

It's time you made your own way
in the world.

What about Jim? Well, I'm sure we'll
find a good buyer for him.

You can't do this.
Please, I'm begging you...

It's my final decision.

And remember, Miranda,

you brought this on yourself.

SHE TUTS

There's something not right
about that girl.

I haven't seen
her shed a single tear.

One more thing. Um...

Do the words "Henson, CFYC,
Wheels" mean anything to you?

I'm afraid not.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I, um...

I have a meeting to get ready for.

Ruby will see you out.

Bone dry.

His daughter isn't the only
one who hasn't shed a single tear.

Gentlemen.

HORSE WHINNIES
I think Jim likes me.

Horses are great judges of
character.

Better than humans.

Will you stay with Jim now?

I expect so.

This was my mother's home
and now it's mine.

Maybe I'll start a livery stable.

That way I can spend all day
with horses.

You could even help out if you like.

Do you really mean that?

Of course I do.

Will you ask your stepmother too?

Don't even joke about it.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Miss Frobisher?

I'm paying my condolences.

That's very considerate of you, Wilf.

Do you mind if we have a private
word with Miranda?

Why don't you have a go?

Long, slow strokes.

We're sorry for your loss.
And rest assured,

we're doing everything we
can to find out who did this.

Thank you.

Were you and your father close?

He went out of his way to avoid me

because he thought
I k*lled my mother.

She died giving birth
and I was a constant reminder.

Can you tell us where you were
yesterday between 1pm and 4pm?

Riding.

I took Jim out on a hack.

Can anyone verify this?

You think I k*lled him?

N-n... I-It's just we understand

that your father had... asked you
to leave home...

I hated him.

And he wasn't much of a father...

but he's the only family I had.

And if you're looking for someone
with motive, try his merry widow.

I'm sure he's left her
well provided for.

Thank you, Miss Frobisher.

We'll be in touch
if there's anything else.

Good day to you, Mr Simpson.

I seek assistance tracking down
a missing person

aged over 70 with
astigmatism in at least one eye

and hypermetropia.

I took the liberty
of calculating a prescription.

Sphere -1.75, cylinder -50, axis 70.

Robbie!

Here, Robbie!

The Glenisters are building
a conservatory.

Expect an invitation from
them so they can show it off.

We'll never hear the end of it.

Do you know, I was thinking...

maybe it's time we enlarged
OUR backside.

Yes, dear. The police are here.
Do you want me to stay?

There's no need, Mr Rowbotham.

We're just trying to trace the
last movements of Aubrey Frobisher.

Better get off to work, Robbie.

Excuse me.

Thank you for lunch, dear.

Very nice.

'Bye.

We understand that you met
with Aubrey yesterday morning.

PANTs!

I... beg your pardon?

Pantomime Artists No... Trust... s.

It's, um, a GSADS charity.

All the money from
the pantomime ticket sales

goes towards local worthy causes.

I see.

And what was the
reason for the meeting?

Well, I'm treasurer
of GSADS and Aubrey is..

was chairman.

Why are you asking?

It's just his wife mentioned he was
a bit on edge beforehand.

SHE SCOFFS LIGHTLY
Being married to a woman like that

would keep any man on edge.

If you must know,

it was merely a routine meeting
to go through the accounts.

I take it they're all in order?

Impertinent.

I have an excellent head
for figures.

Then you'll have no
objection to us taking a look.

Be my guest.

ROBBIE: Mr Frobisher's existing will,

leaving his whole estate
to his daughter,

was nullified on his remarriage.

Accordingly, he was in the
process of drawing up a new one,

leaving generous provision
for his wife,

while his daughter would receive
the house

and the rest of the estate.

I believe he discussed this
with you?

He may have mentioned it,
but I had no interest.

We'd just got married, I didn't
want to think about him dying.

Mm.

Well, I'm afraid...

he was yet to sign it.

Which means he died intestate.

Without a will.

What does that mean?

In such cases,

the bulk of the estate passes
to the surviving spouse.

But that's not fair.
It's the law, I'm afraid.

Of course,
given your father's wishes,

I'm sure Mrs Frobisher would want
to do the right thing.

Of course.

Bunny Frobisher,
the grieving widow, twice over.

Let's find out what
happened to husband number one

and get a copy
of Aubrey Frobisher's will.

Let's see what she stood to inherit.

Miranda Frobisher,
the ungrieving daughter.

And she was furious
that her father remarried.

Also, he was sending her away.

Samira Rowbotham.

She had a routine meeting
about the charity accounts.

But we know it was last-minute,

because Aubrey Frobisher had
to cancel his lunch with his wife.

Horatio Nelson has a name.

Silas Kaleb, age 72.

Oh, uh, and an address.

About eight miles
east of Little Williamscot.

According to the optician,
Silas Kaleb was a known recluse.

He only came into
town for food and supplies.

Which would explain
why no-one reported him missing.

No obvious wounds to the body

or ligature marks.

And as he was still
alive when the eye was removed,

I'd say for now, the most
likely cause was hypothermia.

Could you help me move him, please?
Just pop him there.

Could he have taken
ill and collapsed out here?

But why was he outside without
a coat on and slippers on his feet?

Well, judging by
these splinters of wood,

I conjecture
he was incapacitated inside,

then dragged out here
and left to freeze to death.

This was m*rder.

Right, according to his family
tree, his wife died in 1946.

They had one child,

although I can't see the name,
it's been struck out.

It must have been
quite some estrangement.Mm.

An elderly recluse living alone,
seemingly nothing to steal.

Why would anyone want to m*rder him?

Or send him a Christmas card?

A hand-painted one at that.

The Little Match Girl.

"Season's greetings
and a happy ever after."

Tragic as it is,
the audience is king.

So we're all in agreement?

We can't let our public down.

Colin could step up as narrator.

Poor Bunny Frobisher can hardly
continue.

So we're a Cinderella short,
as well!

I cast my vote for Peggy Button.

Her audition was delightful!

Second that! I third it!

No-one was asking you.
What does our director think?

Mm... She could add
a certain rustic charm.

All those in favour?

My dear lady,
we weren't expecting you.

Our sincere condolences.

And I can't let you down.

The show must go on.

It's what Aubrey would have wanted.

I've brought you a present!
SHE GASPS DRAMATICALLY

A winter strawberry!

My favourite! And I'm so hungry.

How can I ever thank you, Buttons?

How about a kiss? Oh!

SEDUCTIVELY: But I've
never kissed a boy before.

It's easy.

Close your eyes

and pretend you're
blowing out a candle.

And Buttons goes in for the kiss.

This side of
Christmas would be nice.

HE SNEEZES
Oh!

I can't work with this Pinocchio.

Take a few minutes.
We'll pick this up later and, um...

perhaps we can
work around that kiss.

We have to make allowances
for grief.

At the same time, let's unearth some
of that raw, unrequited passion.

You... you fantasise about
deflowering this young maiden.

HUSHED: It might help
if she was young and maidenly.

Moving on to
the glass slipper scene.

Did you all get your revised script?

TOM GRUMBLES INDISTINCTLY

Yes, er, I think what
Tom is trying to say is...

do we really want the
ugly sisters dismembering their toes

to fit into the crystal slipper?

All I've done is return to
the Brothers Grimm source material.

What about the kiddies?
They'll lap it up!

Children love to watch
bad people get their just deserts.

Children aren't nearly as
innocent as they'd like us to think.

Then we are agreed.
Where are props?

We need to talk shears,
sausages and fake blood.

Does nobody have
anything to say about this?!

Oh, you can't have a revolution
without spinning the wheel.

TOM MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY

I share your sentiments, Tom.

Though possibly
not the choice of words.

WHISPERS: I can't bear
this subterfuge.

How much longer before we announce
ourselves to the world?

Perhaps longer than
a day after your bereavement.

I can't spend much more time
in this godforsaken backwater.

Nor will you.

I've put the feelers out to Larry
and he's keen.

With him as our lead,
we can't fail.

I'm more than just
a chequebook, you know.

Have you thought
about a leading lady?

The... final decision rests
with Larry,

but once he's seen you.

Mm.Mm...

Goodbye, my Cinderella.

Oh, dear.

A fox, we assume? Yeah.

Devious little beggars.
Must have dug in under the wire.

There goes our Christmas dinner.

If it is God's will we go without,
then so be it.

Perhaps Sister Lawrence
can rustle up a mock goose.

It was all very well in the w*r.

And we've plenty of potatoes.

We need to talk.

About you leaving.

This is my home.
It's my home now.

And I'm selling it
and moving back to London.

You know, my father wanted it
to be mine.

Of course he would have wanted me
to make provisions for you.

You will receive
an annual allowance of £250.

Obviously, you'll have
to support yourself as well.

Where will I go?

I suggest you take that
place up at secretarial college.

You evil old witch!

The words you are
looking for are "thank you".

I'm not obliged
to give you anything,

especially after
your behaviour toward me.

I know you k*lled him.

Did you k*ll your last husband too?

SHE SCOFFS

I won't lower myself
by responding to that.

You have until the New Year.

So if I were you,
I'd start making plans.

Enjoy your breakfast.

A known recluse
with no family or friends,

except for this estranged child.

Let's start by trying to find them.

Is it too much to hope that you've
got anything on Aubrey Frobisher?

I took a look at the figures and
we are talking a substantial amount.

Last year's takings were
over £2,000.

Anything suspicious?
No, the figures all add up,

but I did figure out one thing.

So, all of the charities,
CFYC, Henson and Wheels,

they're all supported by PANTs.

I'm going to look at
the addresses and follow up.

BREATHLESS: Morning.

There's someone you
may want to add to that board.

I'd hardly call it an affair.

So what would you call it?

Une badinage du theatre.

The flame burns bright for as long
as the rum before...

turning to embers
at the final curtain call.

And how long was this...
"bonne diege" going on for?

Just a few weeks.

What can I say?
She showed willing and I was weak.

Coincidentally, her
new husband was a wealthy man.

And you're starting
a new show, I believe.

Mea culpa. I must confess to
using this provincial opportunity

to attempt to undo
Aubrey's purse strings.

Can you tell me where you were
on Tuesday between one and four?

Pounding the keys and praying for
the inspiration of Thoth.

I hope I'm not a suspect.

Did Aubrey find out about
the affair?

Perhaps there was a fight and...

you stabbed him.

I admit to being a philanderer,

but I'm also a gentleman.

If Aubrey had found out,

I'd have taken a punch on the
nose as his cuckold's prerogative.

The suggestion I'd stab him is,
frankly, insulting.

We'll let you know
if there's anything else.

Thank you for your time.
And for yours.

I'll be seeing you at the
full props rehearsal tonight.

And I do hope you're off book.

Or should that be, on the hoof?

"The princess made her way
to the frog prince's kingdom.

"But the king and queen didn't want
it known that their son was a frog."

MUSIC PLAYS

Stop, stop, stop!

This is t*rture.

An as*ault on the senses.

What do you think you're doing?

I expect they've been rather
busy investigating the brutal m*rder

of our chairman.

They just need a little
more rehearsal time, that's all.

Who is Horstensia?

Why does she dance
while Cinderella weeps?

What is this about?

She's a pantomime horse.

She'll go to the knacker's yard
and be turned into glue

before the start of act one.
Offstage!

Thank you for your contributions.

You're no longer needed.

Fine by us.
You can't get rid of Hortensia!

Cinderella will wear a
vial of glue around her neck

as a reminder of her loss.

So, what do we all think?

GASPING

Oh, for goodness' sake, Samira,
spit it out!

Shall I get your medication?

CHOKING

I'm afraid it's too late.

Do we have an exact time of death?

Half nine.

Yet rigor mortis has already
set in, which is unusual,

as is the opisthotonus...

the rigid
extensions of her limbs.

And there are traces of cyanosis
to the face.

So she didn't die
from a heart attack?

I conjecture some
sort of fast-acting poison.

Oh, dear. Sister?

It transpires we have some sort
of serial m*rder*r on our hands.

So the question is... who's next?