Hetty Wainthropp Investigates (1996–1998): Season 2, Episode 3 - Runaways - full transcript

[Some parts don't have subtitles]

Is this it?
It's all there is this week, Mother.

What's her name this time?
Whose name?

The slut with expensive tastes
who's got my house-keeping money.

House-keeping?! When were this house
kept by you? If you're going,

go while I can walk...
Stop it! You're pathetic!

You stop it! Stop thinking
I can manage on this!

Stop piddling about
and find a man's job!

Now you always say that!

That is not true!

I'm always here looking after you!



"Who was she? What's her name?"

You said you'd finished.

I have never ever been with a woman.

I am 46!

Do you understand what I am saying?

You're the only other person
that's ever touched this body.

I never had the courage
to ask for a second opinion.

Don't tease me.

I really don't have
any more money to give you.

Don't play games with me, not now.

It's not a game any more.

I've got to move
and get things tidied up.

It looks all wrong.

She fell and hurt herself. Now,
you saw what happened, didn't you, Maggie?



'This is the Ambulance Service.
Do you wish to report an accident?

'Hello, this is the Ambulance Service.
Do you wish to report an accident?'

I still can't get the words out.

It's best if I say I wasn't home
when it happened.

Get someone else to find her
and report her dead.

Put her in the dairy, will keep her cool,
but she's not going to last for ever.

Well? Scooter's in the yard.

I heard. Is it our very own now? Hm.

I know that expression.
He's paid too much for it.

You were supposed to beat her down.
She beat me up. Oh!

She said with all the publicity, her
scooter has given us a corporate identity.

What's that? Something between
a cap badge and regimental goat.

The Mayor of Titterslow would like
to see you in his parlour, pronto.

Oh, my word.

Nobody must know the real reason
you've come here.

Free newspapers follow me
the minute I leave this house.

With or without his chain. There's a fleet of
cub reporters trailing us along the ring road.

What do you want us to do?

Our daughter, Susan,
she's gone missing.

Is this your Susan?

Yes, I'll let you have a photo.

The problem is...
she has learning difficulties.

"Romantic holiday of a lifetime?

"Or simply a weekend away
in beautiful surroundings?

"Chigswick Manor Hotel.

"Homeliest Lancashire
welcome going."

'Susan lives apart from us'

in a run-down sea-side hotel.

Sheltered accommodation. Social Services use
it as part of their Care in the Community.

There's a Day Centre
she attends sometimes.

We wanted Susan to be independent
while we're alive

so we can catch her
if she comes unstuck.

What do the people in the hotel think has
happened? Nobody knew she was missing

until one of them
wanted to borrow money.

Susan likes to play
the princess to the paupers.

These abductions
that you read about,

young women who are...
well, like she is...

She's not exactly slow,
or all that innocent,

but she is too trusting,
and much too vulnerable.

Chigswick Manor Hotel?

Where's that? Chigswick.

Don't know it.

Why come to me and not the police?

Some mischief-maker took her to an
all-night rave near Grange-over-Sands.

She was pictured topless
in a tabloid

under the heading
"Sexy Susan's Daddy is Mr Mayor".

Now you know why we need secrecy.

Come on, Maggie. Come on, lassie.

Oh no, oh no. No, Maggie!

Maggie!

Not now!

She's a spoilt little madam, and a
bit of a loose cannon in some ways,

but as long as I'm firm about no men in
her room the parents are very supportive.

What did she take? Clothes? Toiletries?
I don't keep tabs on her wardrobe.

Nobody stays in during the day?

Oh, goodness, no!

Not even in bad weather? A place like this, we
have to have a few rules, for everyone's sake.

It's easier in summer, of course.

Some of them go to cafes, the cinema, bus
station. That's the advantage of the seaside.

There's almost always somewhere
warmish to kill a few hours.

What's this? It's newspaper.

To line the drawer.
There's a piece missing.

I don't think that affects its usefulness
as a drawer-lining. Can Susan read?

Simple words.
She's pretty independent.

Most of them have a social worker
but Susan doesn't need one.

I'll take this. If it was important enough for
her to cut out, I'll need to find out what it was.

And you've no idea
where she might disappear to?

She'd never go on her own,
without a man.

She's frightened of dogs
and the dark. Right.

Where do you live, Geoffrey?
With Mrs Wainthropp. She's my boss.

I expect they'll have warmed
the double room you booked.

Thanks again. Bye.

She might have been swept off
her feet, of course.

"Swept off her feet".

That's a clue, isn't it? ..Brush.

Broom?

Um... Carpet salesman?

No. Swept...

A road sweeper?

There's one.

Sir!

"Homely Lancashire welcome awaits.

"Wood fires, piping hot water
in every bedroom."

Hello?

Hello?

Is anybody at home?

If they come back and catch us
it was you who broke in.

Oh.

Oh, bloody hell!

I beg your pardon?

Gracious me!

That's better.

If you're expecting me to stay here in this rubbish
dump for the night, we need a fire, Bernard.

Bernard!

Fire.

Yes, fire.

Get us warmed up, that would.

Good afternoon. Tea!
Strong, sweet tea for the shock.

Just tell me where to go,
the hospital or the mortuary. Sorry?

It was good they sent a woman. Men never understand
how women feel about our sons. Is that one yours?

No, this is my associate.
We're private detectives. May I?

They rang from the council, wanted to know why
Corporation Street was unhygienic to the public.

And you didn't know he'd gone?

He must have smuggled
that heavy suitcase out.

But why be so fearful
because he took a suitcase with him?

My Bernard would never choose
to stay out all night.

He may have difficulties learning,
but he is aware of my weak heart.

Once my heart starts galloping
it never knows when to stop.

We've no reason to believe that anything unpleasant
has happened. We think he's with his girlfriend.

Susan Makepeace.

The Mayor's daughter.

Was there anything he took that
might indicate where they went?

I think we'd better be going.

We've been engaged by Mayor
Makepeace to find his daughter,

and we've used up
most of today already.

I'll give you our card
in case Bernard should phone.

I should like to ask you how severe
his learning difficulties are.

It might have helped us.

Don't let him know
he's taken five years off my life.

I think you can rely on us never
to reveal that kind of detail.

Why should anyone with money want
a man with learning disabilities?

Perhaps it's because she has
similar difficulties - with learning.

You mean the woman
he's gone off with is like him?

In that respect, yes.

You...

stupid, interfering woman!

My son mustn't ever sleep with someone who's
mentally handicapped. What can you be thinking of?

What kind of child might they have?
We should go... You've got it wrong.

You see,

I had a great aunt who spent most of her
life in The Royal Albert Hospital, Lancaster.

She'd been put there at a time when to miss
the last tram and spend a night away from home

was thought to be deeply immoral.

What being in that place
all those years did to her

was far more than immoral.

You're not disabled,

neither was Bernard's father,
but you produced Bernard who is disabled.

Contrariwise people with learning
difficulties like Bernard's and Susan's

are no more likely to produce a child
with the same disability as anybody else.

It was an advert
for a small country hotel.

Chigswick Manor.

They'll be getting dolled up now for the cocktail
hour. We'll get there tomorrow. Bright and early.

I'm creepy, Bernard.

That's someone's bed.

Where they gone to?

If they come back and catch us,
you ate tinned peaches.

It's alive!

It's alive!

It's alive!

Nosy parkers find more
than they're expecting.

You won't tell about the peaches,
would you?

Oh, yes. Here she is,
this is the one you want.

They can't have me...

not when I'm all yours!

Told you a fire
would warm us good and proper.

So, public transport
wouldn't bring them to your door,

but they could have finished
their journey by other means.

You think they hitch-hiked?

Possibly. Well, they'd have
come by the A65.

..and been dropped at...

..Settle... Long Preston...

or even at Gisburn, here.

We'll make our way back to Bridsea, where they
set out from, asking at every road junction.

When you can find someone.
This isn't the most populated area.

Where should we start?
Normally, I'd say here.

But Hodder Bank road is closed

so they'd have to find another way.

Hang on a minute.
Was it still blocked yesterday?

You'll need to know that
if you want to retrace their route.

Gerald will know!

This is the man you talk to about
roads around here. How do you do?

Was Hodder Bank road
closed for work yesterday?

Aye... Why?

These people are private detectives,
searching for a young couple.

Oh, I see. Good luck.

Thanks.

They were hitch-hiking.
You didn't spot them, I suppose?

No.

Take some scraps for Maggie!
Oh, she's not with me today.

The poor dog is piggy in the middle
between him and his old mum.

Gerald hangs around here when
he's left home or been thrown out.

Mum stays at home and sulks.

I'm still hungry.

List. We make a list.

Write down things. Help remember.

Count our money.
How much for us to spend?

You can't make chips without
potatoes, Bernard, and that's that.

Wallet!

Wallet! Wallet!

Wallet...! Wallet...

Have you seen this couple?

Nothing.

We know they made a booking.

We know they started out.

Know they reached the junction of the A682 and
the A65 because that lorry driver saw them.

It's not nothing.

If they got as far as those roadworks, they'll
have taken side roads with no traffic and got lost.

They've probably never hitched
before and they have learning difficulties.

They may be anywhere or nowhere,
and wherever they are, they're freezing.

We've no choice. We'll report
what we've discovered so far

and I'll tell His Worship
the Mayor to call in the police.

'This is the Mayor
of Titterslow's residence.

'I'm afraid there's no-one
available to take your call...'

Answering machines!

Nobody'll talk to anybody
these days! ..I left a message.

We seem to have visitors.

Is Mrs Wainthropp at home?

Please, it's most urgent!

Whom shall I say is calling?

The Right Honourable Mayor and Mayoress of
Titterslow, Councillor and Mrs Makepeace.

We were due close by so we thought if we changed
taxis a few times we could risk dropping in.

It's a Charity Ball.

We have to support these things.
Hang the expense!

Now, you said Susan
is with a boyfriend?

They booked into a country hotel.

I told you that girl had too much
money. But where is this place?

They didn't turn up and might be lost. They
could be anywhere in the Ribble Valley.

We must use the media to ask the public
for help - we could search for weeks.

Let us not lose our heads.
Is she with someone responsible?

The young man appears to be quiet
and hard-working.

He also has learning difficulties,
like your daughter.

Oh, my goodness!

He has a job?
He's a Hygiene Operative.

A lavatory attendant?

Bernard is a road sweeper

for your council's Cleansing Department...
No media! No television appeal!

I engaged your services by paying
a deposit. I demand secrecy.

Not one word about Susan
and this road cleaner!

If this was to get out...!
Charlie, wait!

What if they've had an accident and
they're dying slowly in a ditch somewhere?

Oh, no! There's a couple of porkers
hi-jacking our taxi.

That'll be the Jessups from No 46.

Stop. Stop! You won't get
your licence renewed.

Look at the time - we're going to be
late for the official opening by HRH

and we're due to be presented.

I am not waiting for
public transport dressed like this.

Ernie at No 7
runs a minicab service.

Well, why can't he come here?
Brenda, don't start, not now!

I'm going to have to set
a time limit on your secrecy.

One more day. That's all you get.

After that, it's a matter
for the police.

CRA-A-ASH!

Susan!

Help!

B-Bernard?

Susan!

I can't move.

I've got to put this on
so they can find and report you dead.

Well, if I do it, they won't
understand it were just a game.

Sorry, Mother.

Ow! My leg.

Here.

Careful.

Got to get you inside somehow.

It's brass monkey weather.

Quick as you can then, girl.

Get you warmed up again.

Close to the fire.

Aye, you did very well.

I didn't know you had
such big muscles on you.

Bernard!

Don't point, it's rude.

What are you staring at?

Must have been there all the time.

"Romantic holiday?
Try Chigswick Manor Hotel."

It's not my fault
we didn't get there.

The driver said this were the hotel.

Leg hurts bad.

Talk about something else.

Promise you'll go find someone...

tomorrow morning.

You got to help me, Suzy.

Lino from the bedroom
burns different colours, look!

Got any work on today?

No. I've got a little job for you.

Hire of your wagon for the full day.
Chauffeuring those two private detectives.

Would you like a bite to eat?

No, thank you. I wouldn't say no to a bacon
sarnie. You've had your breakfast. Oh!

I'll have one as well, then.
It's going to be a long day.

Susan...?

Where are you?

Up here!

Getting wood.

Do you live somewhere close by?

When you're at home, I mean?

No, no. Over Blackleech Fell way.

Don't burn all this when I'm gone.

You go and get help?

Been thinking. It's best.

Don't be upset
cos it's a long way.

I'll be all right.

Susan?

Susan?

Susan, what're you doing?

Stop!

Let's ask at that farm.

No-one lives there. It's deserted.
An old woman owned it but she died.

Thought I saw smoke.

Be dark soon.

I'll have you back in t'hotel
in fifteen minutes.

There's somebody over there.

Oh, that'll be Sharon from Barton
Cross. She's out in all weathers.

Sorry we ate tinned peaches...

I'll get you some more
when Susan gets back.

Hire of driver and lorry
to assist in...

What shall I say? To assist
in search for missing girl.

To assist in search...
for missing... girl.

Forty pound.

G. Putman.

Thank you.

It's all right, I'll cash it.

Next time I'll charge you a fee

Gerald's written his address
on here.

I told him to. Has to be official to get
the money back from the Lord High Cockatoo.

This says he lives at Thurstons Farm, Meatly
Bottom. He said he lived over at Blackleech Fell.

Thurstons Farm...

Remember that deserted farmhouse
where it wasn't worth stopping?

And smoke from the chimney. Jessie!
Hm-mm?

Does Gerald live with his mother
off the Clitheroe Road? Yes.

"An old woman owned it,
but she's dead".

And he wasn't interested
in who the missing couple were.

What are you doing here?
Your Robert.

He spent the morning brooding on the publicity you'd
get for agreeing not to involve the police in this

and the afternoon
shouting at Mayor Makepeace.

So you have my full co-operation.

Don't be frightened.
I won't hurt you.

I fetched you an old coat,
get you warmed up a bit.

No, no! Please, don't run away.

I'm not bad!

I'm not mad, either.

I'm just not that experienced
with women, that's all.

If he so much as loosens a button
I'll have his guts for garters.

I think it's possible
he's telling the truth.

She fell during a quarrel and hit
her head. Forensics might confirm it.

There's more to it than that.

Heavy psychological stuff?

Go on.

He tried getting someone else to find his mother and
report her death, easing himself of some of the guilt.

But why these two?

They fell in his way.

When I was a girl,

my Uncle Frank kept chickens - real ones,
not these conveyor-belt creatures.

Any that was weaker than the rest,
they pecked it to death.

I hope you two know
how lucky you are.

Well?

Bernard's got something to ask you.

We want to get married.

Agreed.

Bye! Bye!