The Paradise (2012–2013): Season 2, Episode 7 - Episode #2.7 - full transcript

Papa has a surprise for us.

We must look our best.

Are you feeling better, Mama?

Yes, my angel.

Much better.

And this collodion apparatus,

is it an improvement
on the daguerreotype?

Mr Weston, your knowledge
of my business shames me.

I've always felt a kinship
with photography

despite being a mere onlooker.

The power to hold a mirror
to your subject,



to glimpse uncompromising truths,

illusions...

it is extraordinary.

Ah, my special lady.

What a delightful surprise, darling.

Isn't it?

Meet Mr Cartwright, a photographer
of considerable renown.

I thought it high time
for a family portrait.

You are very welcome.
It's my honour, Mrs Weston.

I was just marvelling at the depths
of your husband's knowledge.

He is a man
of considerable intellect.

And I am very lucky.

The good fortune runs both ways.

Mama, come and stand next to me.



Flora, I must insist
you stop calling her that!

You know full well
Katherine is not your mama.

You will stand behind me.

"As the thick mist
swept over the gardens,

"Grace could no longer determine
whether it was day or night."

They don't have clocks, then?

"Fearful of sleep, she resumed
carving her initials into the wall

with her red raw fingers."

Well, I can think of easier ways
to stay awake.

Quiet, you!
Final instalment's out this week.

We must make sure we're up to date.
I'm counting the days.

How can you be so consumed
by a story?

This poor girl's on her own.

All isolated, no-one believing
a thing she says about this ghost.

That's because everybody knows that
there's no such thing as ghosts.

Who says?

I've seen things.

You've imagined things.

Welcome back.

How's Edmund?

They think
he's over the worst of it.

Moray was looking for you.

Thanks.

Is he not well? He looked a bit...

- Clara, I don't know.
SUSY: "Grace walked to the window.

"And there, at the window, the pale
apparition that tormented her soul,

"urging her to leave this place."

Denise!

Denise, please!

I've missed you.

Whatever you're thinking
couldn't be further from the truth.

It's true that I was with Katherine,
but I was there for us.

For The Paradise.

This situation
is not what it appears.

Nothing happened.

When my uncle was ill,
on the verge of death,

when I needed my fiance...

..when I needed you next to me...

..you were with her.

That happened.

JONAS:
Apologies, sir.

Miss Denise...

..Mr Weston has called everyone
to the Great Hall.

Jonas, I've been interrupted
at more opportune moments.

My humblest apologies, sir.

But if Mr Weston is gathering staff
for an announcement,

might it not be important?

You look like hell.

Apt enough.

One feels
that's exactly where I'm headed.

Thank you, if you could just put it
there, that's perfect.

If I could have your attention,
please!

I'd like to introduce you all
to someone very special.

An artist,

a scientist...

one of the most celebrated
photographers in all of the land...

Mr Christian Cartwright!

Every word a heinous untruth!

He's gorgeous!

He can carte de visite with me
any time he likes.

I've already taken the liberty
of drawing on Christian's talents.

I'll confess to you all that being
the owner of a department store

wasn't something that came
naturally to a man

more used to
bayonets than bonnets...

and it has taken a little time
for us to get to know each other.

But I've come to appreciate that this
is as much your Paradise as it is mine.

So...each of you will have
your picture taken

by Christian to be
individually framed

and hung in the gallery.

Denise...

- John.
- Please...Don't.

I am familiar with that look.

I have seen it in the mirror.

Usually subsequent to an encounter
with John Moray.

I trust you enjoyed your afternoon
together.

He told you?

Then, why do you
look so dismayed?

I do not know how you wish me
to respond, Mrs Weston.

Oh, Denise.

Must you be so perfect at all times?

You've won.

Celebrate your victory.

Moray desires only you.

And this cursed shop, of course.

Our kiss was nothing more
than an epilogue to an arduous tale.

Please give my best to your uncle.

You kissed Katherine Weston?

At her instigation.

Have you parted company
with your senses?

At this juncture that seems
as good a possibility as any.

Denise was securing investment
that could've won The Paradise.

She sold Ballentine the dream
of you and she running the place.

He was in agreement,
the money was there.

All the investment in the world
is frankly meaningless

without Tom Weston's
consent to sell.

Reckless and foolhardy
my plan may have been,

- but a plan it was.
- Concocted by Jonas Franks.

How could you put your trust
in that man again?

And to think Denise was worried
about keeping secrets from you!

Dudley, I don't need a lecture!

Then, my advice is you treat Denise
in the fashion she deserves...

perhaps starting with the truth.

The collodion is the best
of all photographic processes,

giving your image a hitherto unseen
sharpness and clarity.

And meaning you can produce
an unlimited number of prints

from a single negative.

Hear that, Sam?

You can plaster your entire room
with pictures of yourself. Sam wallpaper.

I'll put you down
for a couple of rolls then, shall I?

How can you be an artist
and a scientist?

Oh, perceptive question, er...

Arthur, sir.

Take this lady here.

Miss, please.

The science is the process.

Biology, how she lives and breathes.

Chemistry, the elements in balance.

Physics...How can she stay upright
after a night out in the Three Crowns?

And art...

the contours of her face
tell us she is beautiful.

But beyond the mere physical
aesthetic there lies something more.

A depth.

A sadness in the eyes.

This lady's face
tells the story of pain.

Please, do not take offence.

I intend it
as the sincerest of compliments.

It's, er, unlike any compliment
I've received before.

Allow me to make amends.

Will you be the first
to have your photograph taken?

No...thank you.

Do you not approve, Clara?

I am delighted to look at pictures
of other people, sir.

But of yourself?

I already know what I look like.

You are so...wilful.

( KNOCKING )
Yes?

You wanted to see me, sir?

Mr Cartwright's presence here
is an opportunity not to be wasted.

I feel certain
that the popularity of photography

can be harnessed
to invigorate sales.

So I need
some of your wonderful ideas.

I'm sure you're right, sir.
But Mr Moray...

Moray has been holding you back,
Denise,

I can see that now,

fearful that you will outshine him.
I cannot allow it.

You're too talented
and I need you to rise above it.

We shall meet later to discuss
your plans for Mr Cartwright.

Yes, sir.

How on this fine earth
did you come to know such things?

There was a portrait photographer
three streets down from where I grew up.

Badgered the old man silly...
Thank you.

- ..Till he gave in.
- An apprenticeship?

Taught me everything.

And you still work together?

Our lives, well, they took on the same
composition as the old man's portraits.

Every day the same.

So I went my own way.

Fascinating. So you just travel
around, from place to place?

Mmm.
Searching for that unique something.

A raw influence
to absorb and inspire.

I believe I've found it.

- What here, at The Paradise?
- Mmm, my muse.

You don't mean Clara?

I absolutely must photograph her,
Sam.

Help me.

What can I do to convince her?

I'm not sure any amount of musing
would convince Clara of anything!

Please.

She is really quite splendid,
isn't she?

Denise, I mean.

In her future,
I see only rise upon promotion.

Yes...she is a rarity.

You're obviously busy in here.

I talked with Mr Fenton.

A highly informative conversation.

Enlightening, you might say.

And it seems
you've overplayed your hand.

You've gambled and lost everything.

Do you know,
and this may sound outlandish,

but it wouldn't surprise me
if Denise ran The Paradise one day.

Oh, the irony of it all!

For a long time
I actually wanted rid of this place.

MORAY: I once made you a promise...

..that we would never be parted...

as we were when I left for Paris.

But even when I was in France
I felt close, connected to you.

Because I knew you were waiting.

But now...

..I feel further away from you
than ever...

( KNOCKING )

Apologies for interrupting,
Mr Moray, sir.

It is a sensitive matter...

..as regards Mr Weston
and his time in India.

- We've discussed this before.
- Yes, sir.

Of course, as a man of honour
you were reluctant

but have we not reached the time
to employ such information

to your advantage?

No!

No, these unscrupulous, wily tactics
are the reason I am where I am.

Just leave me in peace!

Allow me to make amends, sir.

Am I not making
myself clear, Jonas?

Is there something
I can assist you with...sir?

Do you have this in emerald green?

To complement my eyes?

- You're in the wrong department.
- I disagree.

And there is most definitely
something you can do for me.

Certainly, sir.

As long as it's not to question
why I don't want my portrait taken.

Oh, that? No.

I already know why.

You presume too much, sir.

Not so much a presumption,

as an eye trained to perceive
what lies beyond the surface.

Clara...

I apologise most sincerely
for my ill-judged comments.

But the reason you do not want me
to take your photograph

is the precise reason yours is the
one I'm absolutely obliged to take.

You may be obliged, but I am not.

Please!
Meet with me and I'll show you.

Show me? I can't just...

I'll send word. Please!

I regret to inform you the emerald
green bonnet is sadly out of stock.

I was thinking about what you asked,

and then I had the idea to open the
photography booth up to the public.

But most people already
have a portrait.

What we need is something different.

And you're going to tell me
what that is.

Paradise Postcards.

We create a Paradise backdrop
as the setting for your postcard.

Customers have their photograph taken
as a souvenir of their visit.

And on their mantelpiece,
in their home...

A photograph of The Paradise.

For all their friends to see when
they come round for Sunday lunch.

It would extend The Paradise's reach
across the street.

And customers could shop while they
wait for their portrait to be developed.

Perhaps an incentive, say ten per cent
off everything they purchase.

And since my uncle left me
as custodian of his shop...

How long until
this can be up and running?

Oh!

It's fantastic.

That is quite something.

There's someone in mine!

It's a ghost!

Look!

Did anyone else feel that?

The coldness.

It went right up
the back of my neck!

The front doors are open!

It's in The Paradise.

What if we're haunted?

I think you're a bit suggestible.

It might be time for a break
from The House On The Hill.

What on earth is that?

Mr Cartwright, will you please talk some
sense into these unworldly gullible types?

Yes, I forgot to mention there was,
er, a problem with the exposure.

Why is it in mine and no-one else's?

Well, someone, a customer perhaps,
must have momentarily walked into view.

It creates a ghostly trace
of their presence.

I thought you might like to see it.

These spooky apparitions
are all the fashion in London.

It's just looking down on me,
all threatening.

Mr Cartwright's telling you
it's not real.

Ghosts, spirits, ghouls,
it's all in your head.

You can sit for another one
just as soon as I fix the...

No!

It's this magazine
sending them barmy.

The House On The Hill,
the whole city's obsessed with it.

Yeah, well, it's very good.

Look how the people react to
the very notion of the supernatural.

This is
a fantastic business opportunity.

I propose The Paradise
takes 80 per cent...

seeing as we're providing
the paying customers.

Without me, you wouldn't have
the apparatus nor the expertise.

I propose
The Paradise takes 60 per cent.

We're supplying the floor space
and The Paradise is the backdrop.

70 per cent.

Will you negotiate on my behalf
in future?

Denise...

might I speak with you, please?

I have somewhere I need to be.

Excuse me.

It's time for you to hear the truth.

Fenton agreed to put up the funds
to buy The Paradise.

For my part, I was to use
my connection with Katherine

to drive a wedge
between her and her husband,

remind her of the closeness
we once shared,

make their situation so unbearable
that they might sell.

But the deeper I sank,
the more the waters became muddied.

And I realised I am not a man who can
willingly treat people's feelings

with such contempt.

I listened to Jonas
and I took an option presented to me.

It was a mistake.

- And that's the truth?
- Yes!

Sweetheart, you must know
the only reason I became embroiled

in this mess was for The Paradise,

for us,

for our dream...

Because I love you.

And there's nothing more to tell?

No.

No more secrets.

You're lying, John.

Mrs Weston informed me
there was a kiss.

Where are we going?

I must be back in half an hour.

Why concern yourself with a future
that might never happen?

Because I'll lose my position.

A pond!

A scene of natural beauty
is a story written over many years,

of good days and bad...

each storm
leaving its indelible mark.

Without those turbulent times,

this landscape would not possess
its unique character.

- And this is supposed to tell me...?
- To embrace your past.

You try to hide your pain,
but it flows from every part of you.

And it gives you beauty.

Is this an elaborate way
of enticing girls into your bed?

I wish only to capture you in print.

Come.

I'll get dirt on my clothes.

Lean out as far as you can.

Trust me.

There!

What am I looking at?

Yourself, Clara.

Such is your preoccupation
with what's happened in the past,

or what may transpire in the future,

you are missing out
on this present...

..here and now.

You make it sound so simple.

Because it is simple...
we are what we are.

This moment.

Here, now.

And that's all a photograph is.

A memento.

Do you now see how beautiful you are?

Quite the attraction.

And my heartfelt thanks to you,
Mr Cartwright

for agreeing to stay
and make it possible.

The pleasure's all mine.

Delighted to be a part of it.

As am I.

I'm beginning to understand
Moray's obsession with this place.

There is something
about this domain...

..a kingdom in microcosm.

And every kingdom
has its all-powerful ruler.

Though we don't usually find them
wandering into the kitchen
in the dead of night!

Well, how could I resist when there
are such delights to be stumbled upon?

Well, thank you, kind sir.

Will you have a drink with me,
Clara?

To your health.

To yours.

Are you all right, sir?

Clara...

..forever showing me kindness.

We are kindred spirits,
you and I, Clara.

We conceal our true selves...

our scars hidden from view.

I take comfort in the shadows.

You know...

..if you ever needed anything...

Would you like to be
in safe hands...

..protected...

..sheltered from harm...?

I could be...kind to you.

Consider my proposal.

You should not be in here, Jonas.

It seems to be my way, sir,
to intrude where I have no place.

Your touching sense of self-knowing
comes too late, Jonas.

When you permitted me to return,
sir,

I had every good intention
of serving you by honest means.

I imagined that the consequences
of my meddling

would have taught me restraint.

It seems that once I sense
any manner of threat,

some kind of animal cunning
consumes my thinking.

Denise will not speak to me,
she will not even look at me.

Do you imagine your apology
can help us now?

You know well enough
what I am made of, Mr Moray...

..yet you choose
to have me by your side.

Yes...I know.

You have rid yourself of me once...

You will remain here,
so that I can keep my eyes on you.

The sight of you reminds me
of why I find myself

in such dire circumstances.

I would not wish to lose that
for the world.

You won't get a wink
if you do all those.

You told me it would catch up
with me...

..and that I'd learn my lesson.

If you think I take any kind
of pleasure in your sorrow, then...

..well, maybe just a little.

They kissed.

I'm sorry.

The one thing I keep wondering,

how can I still work here
and us not be together?

Seeing him every day...

But I can't bear to be apart.

Then, reconcile.

I refuse to be second prize.

He still wants you, there are
worse predicaments to endure!

Denise, there are two types of women
in love stories.

The leading ladies
and the mistresses,

and we both know what you are.

The leading lady's man
does not take a mistress.

Honestly, did you really believe
Katherine would be jilted

at the altar for a shop girl

and not have her revenge?

Be thankful a kiss is all it was.

Hey, think about what you've endured
to reach this point.

If you walk away and let her win,
it'll plague you.

She used to need me.

Despite all the independence,

Denise's qualities,
to a certain extent she relied on me.

Now I feel she's altogether forgotten
loving me at all.

Dudley...

I feel I've trusted
the wrong people...

..heeded the wrong advice.

And now I feel I am done for.

Please, tell me what to do.

The way I see it,
there is only one path you can take.

Its virtues are twofold.

Firstly,
it'll take your mind off all this.

Secondly, just maybe
Denise'll catch a glimpse of

the man she fell in love with.

You get on with your job.

The circulation of this magazine

is greater than that
of the London Times.

The final issue
is about to be released.

This is an opportunity
the man Denise fell in love with

would exploit to its fullest degree.

My mind is blank.

I don't think
I can do anything without her.

I've never doubted you, Moray.

But his is entirely
of your own making and yours to fix.

The greyness of the weather
had permeated the inner

most reaches of Grace's mind.

All was a fog.

Perception and reality morphing
into femoral long-forgotten concepts.

An impenetrable blanket lay over
the hill as she tried to remember...

..Old Jim was hanging from a tree,
the force of life having long since

departed his body.

Oh, my heavens above! Poor Grace.

Wait! I've not finished.

What's she going to do?

She's all alone now
the groundskeeper's killed himself.

Did he, though?

I'll wager the ghost
drove him to it.

Oh, Henry has to believe her in time.

Henry who wants to have her
committed? I don't think so.

Susy, your clothes are moving.

Clara! Don't encourage her!

I'm not joking...

Oh!

Oh, it is!

Aieee!

It's here! It's here!

( SCREAMING )

Sam?

What are you doing?

You are a dead man!

Dead!

Oh, my...

Come here.

I'm fine.

You don't need to pretend.

I have been thinking.

You could do with a rest.

A change of scenery,
somewhere abroad.

Perhaps you could spend the autumn
in the Alps.

Recuperate,
get back to your old self.

That sounds wonderful.

After all, you seemed so...

..distracted over this business
with Moray...

It would do you good,
don't you agree?

Flora and I were just
talking the other day

about taking a trip somewhere.

Flora won't be going.
She'll remain here.

But for all our sakes...
you need some time away.

I think it would be best for Flora
to be with me.

Do you know how humiliating it was
for me to have to endure the

gory details of Mr Fenton's plan,

how he and Moray fabricated his
interest in you as part of their ploy...

..and you were duped
into believing Moray...

..actually desired you?

I shall make the arrangements.

There you go.

It wouldn't half warm Edmund's
cockles to see Lovett's like this.

Thank you, Myrtle.

Brisk trade you've drummed up there,
Miss Denise.

Your services are now required
back in The Paradise.

Why?

There's an urgent venture
with which Mr Moray needs your help.

What sort of venture?

I'll leave that to him.

But this is my...

Please, Mr Dudley.

Being in his presence in unbearable.

Denise, if you're not capable
of doing your job,

then what exactly is the purpose
of your employment at The Paradise?

Excellent.

I'm finished with Mrs Harrington.

I'll send Mrs Peters in.

Thank you.

Mrs Peters.

He's going to fire me
for neglecting my duties, I know it.

What are you doing back here?

I'm not entirely sure.

Has he seen me reading on the job?

Susy, I'm reliably informed
the amount of time you've spent

reading these surpasses anyone.

It's true, I admit it.

I read them every chance I get.

Good.

Because I met with the publishers
of The House On The Hill,

and The Paradise will host
the launch to the final instalment.

There'll be copies, here?

Thousands of them,
before anywhere else,

and I require someone who has
an intimate knowledge of the series.

- Poisoned plum pudding, sir.
- Poisoned...?

They're what everyone knows
in the story.

The lead character
believes she is being poisoned.

Perfect!

Perfect! We offer them to customers
as they enter the Great Hall...

or as an enticement on the street.

Nightdresses, sir.

Grace's nightdress is described
in such intimate and luxurious detail,

I doubt there's a lady out there
that doesn't desire one.

Thank you, Susy.

Er, Denise is here to help
with the launch of the magazine.

Wonderful.

Shall we go and discuss it?

If we can make this a success,
if we can sell enough copies,

the publisher has promised me
the launch of the first instalment

of the next series,

and a double-page advertisement
in the inside cover.

Sounds wonderful.

I'm just trying to ascertain
what you need me for.

Well, the very same qualities
for which I always need you.

Everything seems taken care of.

Susy's ideas are perfect.

Susy's ideas were exactly
what people will expect.

We must deliver more,
the unexpected, the spectacular...

..as you have with your photographer.

I believe
I should leave you two to discuss.

No, Dudley. You stay just there.

Neither Denise nor I would
allow personal wrangles

to affect vital Paradise business,

would we, Denise?

No.

How much time do we have
before the launch?

Mrs Weston.

I implore you not to think me vain.

A second time is an honour
and a privilege.

Flora. Please.

I just hope your presence here
doesn't indicate dissatisfaction

with the first photograph.

On the contrary.

I found it so delightful
I'm compelled to sit for you again.

Will Papa be joining us?

This is just for you and me,
my darling.

If we are ever apart,
you'll have one and I'll have one.

That means we will always be close
to each other.

But you promised
that we would never be apart.

I know...

..and I shall do everything possible
to keep that promise.

This is just in case.

Watch Mr Cartwright at work.

See how adroit he is.

I am practiced, Flora.

That is all.

Take heed.

Practice makes perfect.

Flora, what say we remove your chair?

Mmm?

There.

I've never seen Mrs Weston
look like this.

You're not the only one
with a share of suffering, Clara.

You haven't known me
more than five minutes.

What gives you the right
to speak to me like that?

Perhaps...cos I like you.

Well, you've a strange way
of showing it.

Was it a man?

Yes, it was.

Just some pathetic little dalliance
that ruined my life.

- I am only trying to underst...
- What?

What do you want to know?

He was married.

I had his child.

I, er...

..I gave up...

..my little girl...

..because I couldn't look after her.

Every day I tell myself...

..I did it for her...

..but I don't believe it.

Will that feed your curiosity
enough, Christian?

I wish
you could be kinder to yourself.

I thought we would stack the issues
here in great towers,

unmissable from the street.

As long as we publicise adequately,

the name alone should be enough
to draw people through the door.

But what stops people from buying
their copy and walking right out again?

Precisely. Once they come through
the door, we need to keep them here.

You've seen first-hand
the allure of photography.

Perhaps there's some way
we can harness that same spirit.

Is it possible to create fog?

Fog?

Christian says life
is about experiences.

And a photograph is about capturing
a moment so you can return to

that experience whenever you wish.

I suppose that's the reason people
become so enchanted with these stories.

It's an escape to another world.

What if we were to give them
that world?

If we had fog here,
in the Great Hall...?

As they come through group by group,
it would be as if they were walking

into The House On The Hill itself.

I'd wager Christian
could create something.

What we would need would be darkness
bringing the forest indoors,

leading the way to the house.

I've started on the plum pudding
recipe, Mr Moray.

And the customers will come in here
and take them directly from the tray.

Come into my kitchen?

Yes, but you are no longer Myrtle...

you are, er... What's the name
of the cook in the story?

- Mary.
- Mary!

For the launch of the magazine, The
Paradise is going to be transformed

into The House On The Hill.

Every room a different experience.

And Mary will bake
her poisoned plum pudding!

They'll want a ghost...
so we must give them one.

- Christian, can it be done?
- Yes, it's possible.

Their journey will end at the same
place as the final instalment,

in Grace's bedroom.

Then they must wait
until they arrive here,

and then they're given the chance
to purchase the final edition.

Once they've walked
through the entire store.

And Christian will be here to capture
a memento of their experience.

Thank you, Denise.

- We haven't done it yet.
- But we will.

I just wanted to bid you good night.

Why are you dressed
so extravagantly?

For The Paradise's big event.

I hear they've transformed the place.

Oh, did I not inform you?

You'll remain here
while Flora accompanies me.

But it's an important business event
for you,

and without me to look after her,
Flora may get in the way.

Martha will take care of Flora.

You're the one
more likely to get in the way.

And you're looking a little tired.

Perhaps you need the rest.

( EXCITED HUBBUB )

I know, I can't wait...

How much longer can we wait?

Just a little more.

There they are.

The publishers?

Whenever you're ready, Miss Denise.

Miss Denise.

Mr Moray, sir.

So, ladies and gentlemen...

inside this here building resides the
final instalment of

The House On The Hill.

Oh, I'm so excited as well.

Do you believe in ghosts?

( HUBBUB )

Will Henry save Grace's life
before it's too late?

Be our guests...

..if you'd be so bold.

Grace and Henry
foresaw a blissful life together.

But on the eve of their wedding
this mist, a mist,

a mist so thick
and unnatural, they say...

..settled...
on the house on the hill...

( CLAP OF THUNDER )
..trapping Grace as its prisoner.

Each time she tried to escape,
she was prevented...

..a ghostly figure
watching her every move.

( GASPS OF EXCITEMENT )

Do you believe, as Gracie did,
that her food was poisoned?

Madam,
would you dare dine with Henry?

Would you like to know
what's for pudding?

Mary!

Pudding.

It's the plum pudding!

Yes, it's the plum pudding!

Which one will you take?

Beware...

..you must choose wisely.

When Moray proposed this to me,
I must admit I wasn't convinced.

But it has turned out
to be quite the theatrical event.

Later I will send Flora home.

When I have concluded my business
with the publishers...

..you'll find my carriage
waiting outside.

What if it isn't scary enough?

Have faith. They're coming.

It would serve you best to keep up.

Follow the ghost.

She leads the way to Grace's bedroom.

And Grace retreated here,
to this bedroom,

after months of suffering,
of wretched mental torment,

as nobody believed that
she was being haunted by the

ghost of Henry's dead wife.

Worse, much worse,

was Gracie began to doubt what
she was seeing with her own eyes.

She began to wonder
whether she was losing her mind.

If you look closely here, madam...

..you'll see where, using
only her fingernails, she scratched

her initials into the wall.

( GASPS )

Now, without further ado,
ladies and gentlemen,

who would like to be the first lucky
person in all the land

to own the final instalment
of The House On The Hill?

( EXCITED HUBBUB )

There we go! Fantastic!

Now, don't forget to have your photo
taken with the ghost on the way out.

Thank you.

The world's not a fair place.

All your doing
and who takes the credit?

Do not concern yourself, Dudley.

Let him take the battle...

because my war is won.

You were right.

I needed to remind Denise of the man
she fell in love with in the first place.

The Paradise needs you both.

Look at what you can achieve
together.

I am considering whether I might
accept your offer of a photograph.

"Considering"?

You might have the good grace

to let a girl
believe she's still to be won over.

It was clumsy of me. I'm sorry.

Can I try again?

Or we could just take
the photograph.

( HE KNOCKS )
Drive on!

"She scrambled her way
into the cellar, bolting

the door behind her, breathless,

"she looked up, confused..."

It was Henry!

Hello?

Who's there?

Arggh!

Mmm, I feel like royalty,
sitting here, posing.

I think you rather like it.

Oh, yes, yes, I will hang a portrait
of myself above my bed

so I can see it
every morning when I wake.

You make a joke of everything
that matters.

Do I?

Mmm...Well, you speak as if you know
every inch of my soul.

You don't.

And neither do your pictures.

Are you laughing at me now?

At myself.

I've always been a know-it-all.

I can't seem to help myself.

I wish I could.

Yes, you might be an attractive man
if you just shut up for five minutes.

I should button my lip more often.

But I will say one thing...

You see, I can't help myself.

Go on, then, say it...

The most beautiful thing about you

is that you have no idea
how beautiful you are.

Mr Weston says the publishers
thought it spectacular

beyond their wildest dreams.

I saw one of them actually jump
when Sam revealed the ghost.

All the plum puddings sold.

Ah, thank God. It means
we don't have to eat them ourselves.

We still make a formidable team,
Moray.

That we do, Denise.

Denise...

..I'm so sorry.

I know.

Can you ever forgive me?

Of course I can.

You do know...

the kiss, it was a horrible mistake.

I know it sounds absurd,
but genuinely I was acting for us.

I only went to such lengths

because I was so desperate for
what we had today to be our future.

Why did you feel
the need to act alone?

To hide your plans from me?

From a desire to protect you.

But I do not want
nor do I need protection.

You must make allowances for a man
shielding his love

from the murkiness of men
and business.

You are my most prized possession,
even over The Paradise.

I fear you will never understand.

No matter the depth of your love,
it does not equate to ownership.

I am not your possession.

I refuse to live in a box marked
"My little champion".

I'm sorry, John.

Clemence!

There were debts...
prison even...

if I could not pay, and I could not.

So I ran.

The priest can wait.

This cannot!

Why cannot you and him
find a way to be together?

Clemence, please!

I'm sorry, cherie, it is just
that I must believe in love.

I'll play you for them.

You would need a stake.

If you win, I go...

away from The Paradise,
the city, the country.

No!