Lark Rise to Candleford (2008) s02e01 Episode Script
Christmas Special
My first Christmas in Candleford promised to be far more exotic than anything I'd ever known in Lark Rise.
But these are also times when we can forget how fortunate we are The wind do blow.
There are those who spend their whole lives searching for the sense of belonging the rest of us take for granted.
The wind do blow.
The best of intentions can pull families apart, so that parents and children can be divided by their wish to love and be loved.
I'm not sure we will need the goose this year, with Matthew gone to take care of his brother, and you, Thomas, going off to visit your sisters.
Once a year, no more.
My sisters insist.
I think they appreciate my sermon before Christmas lunch.
Although they are not so much a devout family.
God meant us to celebrate Christ's birthday in the company of our loved ones, not hanging baubles from the ceiling.
Dear Thomas, I can't imagine for one moment you believe that.
For all you grumble, you hang the decorations with such care.
You give yourself away too easily.
Ma'am, Miss Lane, I cannot, I will not, allow you to consider that I would ever indulge Christmas.
Then I shall take up your share of indulgence, Thomas Brown.
I will have the goose anyway.
Ma'am, if I'm returning to Lark Rise on Christmas Eve, then you will be spending Christmas Day on your own.
I have no intention of feeling sorry for myself I shall fill the house with exotic treats and invite my neighbours in.
I shan't want for company.
If nothing else I can share a glass of mulled wine with the sisters Pratt.
Ma'am, Miss Ruby and Miss Pearl have plans to spend the festivities in Paris.
Candleford is promising to be a ghost town this Yuletide.
Stand.
Ladies, if I may, you have just put a charm on the morning.
Beg pardon.
Walter! As soon as we arrive in Paris we must visit the Bon Marche.
Ruby, you must remember to pack our furs.
Yes, I will, I thought we might also take a walk The largest department store in the world.
I'm sure it will inspire us.
Perhaps when we are there, we might examine one or two small premises, perhaps make one or two dauntless steps in the direction of expansion.
Don't you think we might enjoy a walk down the Champs-Elysees The Pratts of Paris.
We have a certain ring of success to it, walk on! I shall put clean sheets on every bed come Christmas Eve.
We will get her home.
And I would dearly love to lock that door, as if there ain't no world out there.
Just us.
Our family.
The Timmins.
Our Laura under our own roof.
It's a beautiful gift, Emma.
Our Laura will cherish it, all her life long.
Ma'am? Here, have a pinch.
The ghost of a good snuff's better than nothing.
I have to find a penny or two from somewhere, or the little 'uns will have no more'n a cabbage in their stockings.
Perhaps we might encourage Pa to seek out a bit of work, to tide us by.
Don't you go upsetting your Pa.
He needs more time to find his land legs, that's all.
There ain't a lot of call for master riggers in Lark Rise.
He's had near-on three months.
How much longer will he need? Now, this here is from the waters of Constantinople.
And the women in that port are all goddesses.
Oh, we shall have the best of Christmases, just you see.
We shall feather the foam.
Something always turns up.
Love and joy come to you And to your wassail too.
Twister, didn't you used to go wassailing in your younger days? Wassailing? I had my banjo then.
Whatever happened to that old banjo? And I was the most thriving wassailing man this side of Banbury.
Ain't that right, Queenie, my dear? Oh, you could wassail, all right.
It was bringing home his makings where Twister fell short.
Ain't that right, Twister, my dear? Oh, that's the milk cart going.
I'm away to Candleford.
What business have you got in Candleford, Caroline? Family business.
None of your business business.
Ned! Ned, wait for me.
I'm coming with you.
Ned! Ned, I need a ride! Ah, Thomas.
There you are.
Here I am, Miss Margaret.
Second delivery.
Same as yesterday.
God permitting.
Same as tomorrow.
I was wondering, if, when your sisters might be expecting you? Christmas Eve.
Same as last year.
Same as the year before.
It seems, since my father is going off to Winchester, seems a pity that you and I cannot have Our Christmas.
Yes! Together.
So to speak.
Miss Margaret, since you are free at Christmas Yes .
.
and I feel the hand of God at work in these circumstances Yes! Since I will be away, Miss Lane might need a Christmas companion.
Miss Lane? Lor, dear.
Would there be, or has there been, a letter for my Walter? Perhaps one with naval markings on it? I cannot say if there is, or was.
Well, I ain't asking you to read it to me.
No, That would be disgraceful.
Only, you can tell me if there is one.
Post Office Regulations, Mrs Arless.
I'm forbidden.
Laura Timmins, I have spanked your arse many a time, and it ain't too late now.
Don't you give me all your hoity-toity Candleford regulations.
Mrs Arless, it won't be necessary for you to spank Laura.
The regulations, as I am sure you know by now, are not Candleford's but the Post Office's.
And I am therefore the one responsible for imposing them.
I do hope you won't threaten to punish me so enthusiastically.
Oh, no, Miss Lane.
No.
I am just trying to discover, Miss Lane, since it is Christmas, and since I do have four children at home.
Four? The baby.
I do have FIVE children at home, I think I have a right to know if my husband is seeking a ship, if he's found one, And if my little 'uns ain't gonna have a Pa.
At Christmas.
Yes, I do sympathise.
I have every respect for regulations, Miss Lane, course I do.
But couldn't you wink like this if there is a letter, and maybe fix your hair like this if there isn't? Mrs Arless, such skulduggery is not the way of the Post Office.
I am sorry.
Mrs Arless, you are staring at us.
I'm looking to see it in your faces.
Should I hope or should I fear? Yes.
There it is! I should hope.
I knew it.
My mind has been running away with itself.
My Walter wouldn't take off, not again, not at Christmas.
Oh, Ma'am, I feel as though I have betrayed her, knowing a letter went out for Mr Arless this morning.
We deliver letters, Laura.
That is all.
It is not for us to meddle in the lives of our neighbours.
I know what I am.
I can't help the toes, nose and attitudes God gave me .
.
but give a man a banjo, and you'll find out what kind of man he truly is! You all right there? Don't the cold bite your bones, though.
You need a night by a warm fire.
My home is there in Lark Rise.
There ain't flames enough in this world to warm my carcass.
How about a traveller tell you your fortune, sir? Meaning no offence, Miss, I ain't one for the likes of omens and prophesies.
Where are you headed? I been searching.
For a man, name of Jeremiah Mears.
Is he known hereabouts? I ain't heard the name, no.
No-one has.
But he's out there somewhere.
Somewhere You have a daughter.
I have three daughters.
Every man around here has daughters.
But your daughter has two mothers.
That can be a gift or a torment for a family.
The wind do blow.
Ma'am, the doorbell sounded but when I looked there was no-one there and the door is closed Oh, perhaps it was some mysterious Christmas spirit come looking for a stamp.
Oh, Laura, I do enjoy your over-active mind when it runs away with itself.
Perhaps you could take some ghost stories to bed with you, to intensify your senses, every little creak on the stairs.
Don't you believe in the spirit world, Ma'am? There are enough things in this world to disturb us, Laura, without us seeking them out in the shadows in the night.
You see this one? I took it off the shores of Sebastopol, waters so deep, they call it the Black Sea.
If you look closely enough, and you have eyes for it, you can see the black.
Hmm? I can see it! Yes, I can see it! Walter, tell them about Zanzibar - about the "exoticals".
This onethis one here, I took from the Indian Ocean during my time in Zanzibar.
The most exotic women that ever blessed God's earth.
Dark skin shines like midnight.
Fabulously beautiful.
But mind, not one of them can hold a candle up to your Ma.
There's someone outthere Who is it, Caroline? 'T'aint no-one.
Wind is all.
The wind do blow.
Ma, the shop windows, they're glowing with lights.
The whole town, it's like a picture.
It feels like christmas should be Right, that's splendid, our Laura.
I only hope a hamlet Christmas won't be a disappointment to you.
We're all looking forward to having you back under your own roof again.
Ma, I happened to see I wasn't looking, I promise But Miss Lane is giving me It has my name on it The most beautiful leather It's the loveliest thing I've ever known.
A journal.
Why Yes.
What a thoughtful gift.
The wind do blow.
Ma, Miss Lane will be alone at Christmas, with Zillah gone.
She's so determined to be brave.
She's so kindly to everyone.
Perhaps you would like to stay with Cousin Dorcas over Christmas, Laura.
Could I? Could I truly? You wouldn't mind? Cos she can't leave the Post Office, you see, it's tradition.
She belongs there.
Of course.
Why not? She is your family, after all.
Miss Lane.
Miss Margaret, come in.
I always think it is the figs which make a mince pie.
Forgive me for being so forward in putting myself forward.
Thomas has explained to me, not that he has confided in me anything of a sensitive nature, only, since my father is in Winchester on his pilgrimage again this year, and since you are without a maid, it seemed to me I might serve as your Christmas companion.
Christmas companion? For the duration.
Thomas assured me you would welcome some delicate company in the evenings Miss Margaret, you have come to my rescue, And I would indeed appreciate some delicate company.
We must sleep on the voyage over.
Oh, but I am so looking forward to gazing out at the sea, even at night as it is Ruby, we must be properly invigorated to fully appreciate Paris.
Yes, Pearl.
The wind do blow.
Ruby! What are you thinking of? Pearl, surely we can show a little compassion.
Where are your senses, girl? A piece of our finery draped over a vagabond.
Our reputation will be in shreds.
Now come along, back up here.
Never mind the capethe damage is done.
Walk on! I'm sorry, Pearl.
I don't quite know what came over me.
A sentimental heart's what came over you.
Weakness, Ruby, is not a virtue.
It is a vice that only leads to more weakness.
Pearl, you can go and hop! Go and hop? I have no intention of spending Christmas in Paris with a wicked, heartless harridan! Ruby, you can get out of this carriage.
You are beyond yourself and I will not travel one yard further with you.
Why would I visit the Bon Marche with an ugly, mean-eyed, crack-skinned hag face? Get out! Get out! Walk on! Thomas talks about the Post Office teas all of the time.
Thomas has told me of the delights of herrings, eggs, sausages, pastries Though not normally all at once, Miss Margaret.
I thought it might set you up for your long journey to your sister's, Thomas.
Ma'am Miss Lane, my Ma says that I can remain at the Post Office with you! You're sure? She said that herself I will go.
You didn't badger your mother? No, Ma'am.
I promise you.
Well, this promises to be the best Post Office Christmas we have ever had.
What is it, Thomas? It's er, my sisters.
Their plans have changed.
They are unable to entertain me.
Regretfully.
It appears I will remain here, in the Post Office, after all.
For Christmas.
That beggar woman's been on my mind all day long.
Wandering out there with a hard winter coming in.
Oh, Robert, what have I done? I can only know that if you tell me.
The words just leapt out of my mouth, I can hardly believe I said them.
Em, the mystery of it is too much for a man who likes plain talking.
I have told our Laura that she should spend Christmas in Candleford with Cousin Dorcas.
But you have been pastering me about her coming home for weeks.
Why would you do such a thing? Perhaps I feel pity for Dorcas and it would be nice for Laura and the truth is I don't know.
I was overcome by a feeling of an impulse.
Oh, it is done, and there is no turning back.
I know well enough a way to turn back.
Miss Pratt, isn't it? It's so cold.
Here, take my jacket.
This old coat may be no more'n a rag, but you wearing it make it fine enough.
Come on.
That's it, there.
I am grateful for your true chivalry.
It's Mr Arless, isn't it? Walter Arless.
Master Rigger.
How did you come to be out here in the woods all shivering and alone? The advantage of telling your troubles to me, Miss Pratt, is that I am a man of no matter.
Silent night, holy night All is calm, all is bright Round yon virgin mother and child Holy infant so tender and mild Sleep in heavenly peace Sleep in heavenly peace Gentlemen, what a treat.
Not entirely without motivation, Miss Lane.
Twister and I were wondering if you might allow us to sing Carols here, outside the Post Office.
Oh, that would be splendid.
Thank you.
Just for the Christmas spirit of it, there'll be a cap on the ground.
Though that will provide a feeling of good cheer all about.
It's the best of spots to catch folks with a few pennies in their pockets.
Peace on Earth outside of my own front door? How can I object? Yes.
You have my permission.
.
.
Glad tidings of great joy To you and all mankind I don't know why those awful words came into my mouth.
It was like I had no choice in the matter.
But But you believed every word of it? They were things that have been torturing my mind for so many years.
And now I am all torn up with shame and regret.
And perhaps a little relief? Well.
Yes.
A little.
In truth, more than a little.
Ma'am, perhaps it ain't such a bad thing this happened.
It may - excuse the vulgarity - burst the boil.
I do think the boil has been burst.
My problem is, I have to go home and face The Boil in all her vindictive splendour.
You hold on tight, the world will soon stop spinning.
I promise you.
I do hope I won't be spoiling Laura too much with so many extravagances.
Just leave it on the table, please.
Thank you.
Do you know, I am rather enjoying having the responsibility of kitchen to myself To be honest, I didn't think I could do it, but once I was started I realised I knew more than I thought I did.
The truth is, the reason I do it the pate, the stuffing, all of it, is to fill the kitchen with all those smells and flavours in the sentimental hope that they might bring something back, something that is lost.
You see, Mr Timmins, I may appear to you to be the forbidding, meddlesome Post Mistress, but I am a hopelessly emotional creature.
Christmas can do that to the best of us takes our emotions to a place where we long for the comfort of family.
Which is why I am so grateful to you for permitting Laura to stay here with me.
If it were anyone else making such an offer I would be suspicious that there was something wrong, but since it is you and Emma, I can trust that it is simply a gesture of true kinship.
Now, I have some gifts for Emma, and the children, and you, of course.
Now, I am utterly selfish when it comes to buying gifts for people.
I give no thought to the recipient, I simply buy what I would want them to have.
I have been wittering on.
Was there something you want to speak with me about? Yes, there was.
Do you know the name Jeremiah Mears? No, I don't.
It comes from an old Norse word, "myrr", which means marsh.
I do love my local history.
I pick it up over the counter.
Why do you ask? I came upon a beggar woman in the woods.
She was searching for this man, Mears.
In the woods at this time of year? She will freeze.
My thoughts exactly.
Jeremiah Mears.
I will ask our local historians over the counter.
I have been fretting the day long about poor Cousin Dorcas.
Not so much about you telling her the way things must be, but my part in setting her heart to hoping.
I would invite her here but I know that it's not what she wants.
Was she sorely upset? Em Oh, and she sent gifts.
Em, I didn't tell Dorcas.
I couldn't, not when I saw the need in her.
Need? Dorcas Lane? She can have any number of friends and neighbours by her side.
With her dates, and figs and the like.
Turkish Delights! Why must she have our Laura, too? Our Laura is quite happy A child might be grateful to come home to her family.
Might consider her Ma and Pa before her employer.
Is that what this is about? You think she would rather be there than with us? Well, it's donw now We will make the most of it.
We have four other children.
We will give them the Christmas they deserve.
It's not all about Laura Timmins.
We will forget such brutal, undeserved words were spoken.
We will put behind us that Paris has been lost.
It is my own fault.
I have been too soft on you.
Well, I intend to rescue you no more.
Good.
Did you say "good"? I am tired of your bullying, you old boil.
Festering boil.
Ruby, you are beyond felicity.
Pearl, you speak like a baboon who swallowed a dictionary.
Laura, did you spill something on the stairs? No, Ma'am.
Look.
Ma'am Has the Post Office ever had ghosts? Oh, yes.
Thomas invokes the Holy Ghost at every opportunity.
Honestly, I am a woman with Darwin on my bookshelves! Do you really think I can give credence to phantoms in the night? I need a warm bath to put me in the mood for sleep again.
Now Laura, stop this nonsense.
Thomas must have left a window open, that is all.
Let's be logical.
Why on earth would a ghost want to trouble us? Why now? At Christmas.
The wind do blow.
Ma'am.
Something is knocking.
Yes, I know, Laura.
I can hear it.
Miss Lane What shall we do, Ma'am? We will do as we would do in a rational world.
We will open the door.
Are we ready? Paris is off! Paris is cancelled! Oh, dear.
Go and hop! Can anyone countenance what could've come over the girl? After all I've given her - all the years of giving, giving.
I give, Miss Lane? Do I not give? And, the look on her face.
Miss Lane, the look.
One can only describe it as malevolence! Malevolent.
My own sister.
As if she was possessed.
Perhaps, in the morning I throw myself on your mercy, Miss Lane.
I cannot possibly let her see me like this, so deeply, deeply overcome.
Well, this is turning into quite a Christmas one way and another Thomas Brown, perhaps you could fetch my suitcase? Ah.
You meantonight? Now? To go out? Onto the street? I left it on the doorstep.
My sister hasn't been the same since she gave a perfectly good cape to that tramp on the lane.
A tramp? Can I ask you how she was dressed? She had on Miss Lane, can you countenance A man's dressing gown? The wind do blow.
There's something going on behind those eyes of yours.
Dorcas Lane has had made for our Laura, a fine leather journal.
With her name on it.
Laura saw it by accident.
There.
Said it.
And I am being weak and self-pitying.
If it was about a journal, you might be.
Dorcas Lane.
Post Mistress.
Independent woman.
Taste and wealth.
Ain't afraid to let the world see it.
Loved in every quarter of the country.
What young girl wouldn't want her for a Ma? Give Laura the journal, Em.
Sometimes we must trust other people.
We can't know how Laura will feel.
Who knows how things will turn out? If you don't give it to her you'll be doing something terrible to yourself, and I won't let that happen.
Do it.
Take the chance.
Trust.
It only takes a bit of courage.
Here we come a wassailing among the leaves so green Here we come a wandering so fair to be seen Love and joy come to you And to you, your wassail too And God bless you and send you A Happy New Year And God send you a Happy New Year We're gonna save every penny we make, Alfie.
I'm gonna show Queenie that a man can be the man he never was meant to be.
Miss Lane, will you give us a verse? Them as is passing might find that pleasing enough to open their purses.
You won't get me singing, gentlemen.
I don't have the voice for it.
Everyone has a voice, Miss Lane.
But not everyone has a tune.
But I must admit, your carol singing is rather a success, here, outside of the Post Office.
The best time for wassailing is midnight, Christmas Eve.
See, folks with a drink in 'em tend to have boundless generosity about 'em.
I used to love carols at midnight, as a child.
Oh, what a wonderful idea! We can make an event of it.
Decorate the Post Office.
Oh, this is turning out to be quite a Christmas! The wind do blow.
Ain't this the coldest winter ever there was? Perhaps I could tell your fortune, my darling, for a tater or an onion for the pot? Come in.
I have a stew on the stove.
My husband said he saw you in the woods.
Oh, but you have such thoughts on your mind.
Is it written in my face? Oh, they're only small troubles.
Any woman with a daughter away in service has to get over the same thing.
You're going to have to find out if they're true, these thoughts of yours.
How can you claim to know my thoughts? My, look at your poor feet! You're wet soaked.
Come stand by the stove till we dry you out.
A daughter's love.
Your feet aren't getting dry at all.
Here, let me wipe them for you.
You'll find out if it's true, what's in your mind.
You are set on it.
Be careful you don't break the whole world in half.
Yes.
Yes.
I do fear it You ain't got no kitbag, Walter.
You can't leave.
Go on.
Get gone.
Go! Go! But you can leave, course you can, if the sea is calling, kit bag or no kit bag, you'll be gone.
Why, Caroline What's put such thunder in your face? Oh, the truth.
I heard my Walter snoring that snore he snores every time he gets a yearning for the sea in him.
Yearning is only yearning, Caroline.
If Walter found local work then No.
It's more than a hankering.
He was wearing his boots in bed.
That means he's getting hisself ready to leave.
Still, my dear, there's time to talk to him and No, there ain't.
I seen the letter.
There's a ship! Oh, my.
I been looking in them waters and I seen it.
The reason.
All my life I been wondering, why does my man run off to sea at every opportunity? Now I see the truth for it.
I ain't wife enough for him, because I'm too much.
Caroline, how can you be too much if you ain't enough? I give him no rest.
I'm loud, I'm coarse.
There's a baby every time he so much as looks fondly upon me and I cause terrible mayhem at every turn.
True enough, my dear, but you're the same woman he married.
Walter just loves the sea, Caroline.
There's something ain't right about it.
I felt compelled to know the truth about it.
As if there was something else in that cottage.
As if the knocking and the cold wind made me take the letter out of his pocket.
That's how I felt when that gypsy woman knocked at my door.
What gypsy women? I keep wondering if it was a dream.
That ain't no dream.
That's the same woman 'er Robert saw out in the woods, looking for Jeremiah Mears.
Was there anything peculiar about her? Her feet! They were wet through and even though I wiped them, they wouldn't dry.
I saw her again here, yesterday.
She's about here somewhere.
We'll search every inch of these woods.
What good is decorations and what joy is there in gifts, if there's a thought in our head about one lost soul out here in the freezing cold? You're too late, Robert.
You couldn't save her, Robert, because you're nigh-on 80 years too late.
I heard a tale at my father's knee, of a body was found in that pond.
A young woman.
Nobody knew who she was, see? A traveller.
So they took her out and buried her, but not in the graveyard.
In the woods.
This girl who died You're saying it's the same one I spoke to out in the forest? The tale must be true.
But why is her spirit still here searching? Queenie.
I have every respect for what you know of the history of your hamlet.
Jeremiah Mears was a local man.
Local family.
I found all their stones up in the graveyard.
Perhaps the girl I spoke to wasn't looking for the man, she was looking for his grave, or his descendents.
She looked to be in poor fettle.
Perhaps her mind has gone.
All of her is gone, Robert.
Why don't we go and look for her grave in the woods and then we'll see.
You must be doing well, going over to Candleford every day.
We is.
Candleford folk appreciate a carol, well sung.
Miss Lane has arranged for a carol singing at midnight on Christmas Eve.
Decorating the Post Office, the street We'll need two hats to put on the ground.
Three! The wind do blow.
Child? Merry Christmas.
Thank you.
Do you remember, Laura, when you were a child, we used to sing carols in the hamlet, at midnight on Christmas Eve? We're bringing it back this year.
Why? That's strange! Did you know Miss Lane is planning There's nothing strange about it.
We're intent on making this the best Lark Rise Christmas ever.
Do you not remember? I would wake you up, to come out and listen.
Your little face would glow.
You would hold my hand as I sang.
Ma, why are you doing this? What am I doing? I'm reminding you of the best of times, that's all.
Family times.
Our times.
It do seem pretty.
Are you in trouble? Trouble? Why would I be in trouble? We hide when we're in trouble.
I'm not hiding Why, Miss Pratt? Are you in trouble? No.
No, I was just explaining toto Look at you, you're shivering! Here, your tiny little toes must be near freezing off.
Come on, let's put you near a roaring fire.
No, I couldn't, it's not possible, no, but really No, no, I've got a lovely big fire.
There.
If you offered me the choice between warm toes and a bottle of champagne, every time I would choose a bottle of champagne! May I offer you a bite, Miss Pratt? Here, have a bowl of my best pease pudding There, you don't mind a bit of wind, do you? Just pease pudding is fabled for it.
No.
I don't mind.
A gust of warm air this time of year, most welcome.
Yes.
Mrs.
Arless.
I'm full of admiration for you.
Admiration? For me? You keep your family together in the most difficult circumstances.
But I don't keep them together, do I? I'm not capable of that.
There ain't nothing more in this whole world that I would wish for.
Still, what on earth were you doing out there? I I must go.
My sister will be wondering where I am.
Oh, Walter.
Ain't you the gentleman? This lady needs escorting, for fear of collapsing in the road.
Right.
Why must you always run away? It ain't running away.
It's the call of the ocean.
Well, perhaps that's what you believe.
But I know, you see.
I am the child of a father who took to the road.
I don't think anybody runs away TO.
I believe we run away from.
That's what I see in your face now.
The advantage of telling your troubles to me, is that I am a woman of no matter.
I don't know how to be with them.
I ain't got the legs for it.
The soul for it.
I fail them every time.
I go because I see they're better off without me.
Go home.
Go and be with your family.
Don't tell them about your tales of the sea.
Ask about them.
Their day.
Their lives.
Meet them.
Try to see them I know I'm intruding but I could not live with myself if I did not tell you what I know to be true.
What goes on in a child's heart when her father runs.
Please.
Try.
For one day.
Surely, we can do for one day, that which seems impossible for a lifetime.
Singing the day long makes a man's throat too croaked for tea! There's the inn waiting across the street.
Could quench our thirst with a nice warm beer.
Just the one, eh.
It's only a few pennies.
Who's to know? Let's see how much we have.
Oh, I can't do it.
I've swore to myself and it would undo my soul if I supped one sip of that ill-got ale.
Alfie, you must press that money into your pocket till we get us back to Lark Rise.
Take me to my own door, hand it to me there.
Push me across the threshold if you have to.
I will take my makings home this time.
I will lay them on the table.
Oh, what Christmas joy to prove a woman wrong! Laura, what is it? I'm sorry, Ma'am.
I'll come right down.
Did something happen in Lark Rise to upset you? It did, didn't it? My Ma seems so out of sorts.
It's my fault, I know it is.
She seems so hurt and it must be because I've said I'll spend Christmas here.
But it's her idea.
Your father assured me She wants me there with her.
I can feel she does.
Well, we will go over to Lark Rise and speak with her face to face.
We've done it, Alfie, boy.
We've done it.
The finest old wassailing man this side of Banbury! The wind do blow Queenie! Pa? What are you searching for? A grave.
Or something that looks like a grave.
Or something that might have been a grave.
Or a piece of wood with a name on it.
I think I half-remember seeing something out here.
A name.
Where? Where did you see it, Laura? Show me.
Robert.
May I speak with you about our Christmas arrangements? I am more than a little concerned that Emma may have well, that there may be a misunderstanding.
It's more than a misunderstanding, Ma'am.
It's the thing my wife fears most in this world.
Emma torments herself with thoughts that she is not mother enough for our Laura.
Emma? Not mother enough? But she's the living spirit of motherhood.
She has such grace.
She is tireless, she is abundant and it is effortless.
How could she possibly? She considers herself poor, stood next to you.
If I have done anything to provoke such a thought I will never forgive myself.
Oh, I have, haven't I? Encouraging Laura to stay at the Post Office for Christmas.
We must undo this.
I will apologise to Emma.
No, Dorcas.
We must never acknowledge this conversation to Emma.
Or to Laura.
Laura loves her mother dearly.
I see it in her every day.
Emma has made a journal for Laura, sewn her name on the front of it.
Oh, and I have But I don't understand.
How could you know? Here it is! Paris is fortunate indeed to have escaped the prospect of a boil on its Christmas.
Oh, Pearl, you are not a boil.
You are a women who has been given the care of a broke-hearted sister.
Perhaps I care a little too enthusiastically.
Perhaps.
At times.
Though for the best of reasons.
Paris next year then? Cinderella Doe Doe is a legal term, usually it means someone unknown.
Nameless.
It means no-one.
If there's a grave, there is someone.
A human life.
Deserves marking.
Who was she? Why was she in Lark Rise? Queenie, I had the most vivid dream I saw this woman, Cinderella Doe.
She reached a house in Lark Rise, and she looked through the window, at a family in there.
She found him.
Jeremiah Mears, her Pa.
But she turned away.
Went up the lane, towards the pond.
Why did she turn away if she'd be searching for him for so long? Only way to find that out, is to ask her.
Right, Arlesses.
Sit down Right.
Now, this might look like pease pudding.
It might smell like pease pudding.
It might even taste like pease pudding.
But this here is royal porridge.
The Queen's own recipe.
She insists on it every day for breakfast and for dinner.
And I thought, well, if it's good enough for the Queen, it might just do for us Arlesses.
And the reason why Her Majesty loves this royal porridge so much is because every spoonful makes a person sing.
Shall I try? Yeah.
.
.
Soon the hoar old year must leave us But the parting must not grieve us When the new year come tomorrow Can't have you putting a warm arse on a cold seat, can we? So, what have you been doing today then, eh? Well, go on.
Tell your Pa what you've been up to.
Go on.
Tell him about collecting the holly in the wood to make wreath for the front door Go on.
Tell him.
Tell him.
Caroline Arless, you are a force of nature.
You were too much when I met you and you are still too much.
And I love you for it.
Let him find no trace of sorrow Now I been thinking, I might try my hand at sail making.
My brother's yard, Walton Bay.
Settle down.
Give my creaking knees a rest.
Might even build us a little place over there.
What, us? Have a home? Like a proper family? Well, it might take a while finding things the way we want them to be.
Me and your Ma get things sorted, then we come back and fetch you.
And you could stay with Queenie! She'd like that, she's very fond of taking in.
And you'd like that, wouldn't you.
Course you would.
Ain't this the best Christmas ever! Deck the halls with boughs of holly Ohoh, right.
Come on, stop that! Ma.
Laura.
Hello, Queenie.
Emma, I think Laura might be struggling a little with, well, where to spend Christmas.
I don't see why there has to be any strain.
Families ought to be a joy.
Emma, I wonder if we might alter our plans a little.
I have been a fool to think Laura won't be pining for her home on Christmas Day.
She's been itching already.
But our Laura was most anxious not to leave you on your own for the holiday.
I have a proposal.
I would like to invite myself to the End House for Christmas Dinner.
But, Ma'am, what about the goose and the oysters and the pate? I would much rather treat myself to a day with family.
We are family, aren't we, Emma? You and I.
You're all I have left now.
Yes.
We are.
Dorcas.
Some of us Lark Rise folk are planning to sing some carols at midnight.
I know you are planning something similar outside the Post Office Do you suppose we might join you? I could think of no better way to celebrate Christmas! We're ready.
We're ready.
If her spirit do come, there might be noises or smells, feelings touches on your skin.
I'm being tickled now.
But that ain't no spirit, that's me.
Oh, sorry.
We're calling on the spirit of Cinderella Doe.
God give you rest.
All we want is to help deliver you to peace.
God give you rest.
Come to us now that we might know what you want.
God give you rest.
Come on, my dear.
You can join us.
Come on.
Sit amongst us as friends.
As friends.
That's it.
You come to us now.
Queenie! Queenie, my dear I have it here, somewhere.
I have it.
Alfie will tell you.
In my pockets.
The finest wassailing man The makings My last lovely penny.
Here we go a-wassailing That'll teach you to summon souls from beyond this world, Queenie? The wind do blow 'Scuse me, my darlin'.
You heard of a man name of Jeremiah Mears hereabouts? Can I ask why you're searching for him? He's my Pa.
That name was told to me by my Ma, see.
I whispered it and prayed it, and shouted it every day of my life.
Like the saying of it might bring him closer.
He took off and left when I was a babe and he ain't nowhere to be found.
But I think you have found him already.
Back there.
I saw that family, so cosy and warm and proper.
And I saw what I was.
What I had become - no more'n a tramp on the road, Every bit of me made of dirt.
I couldn't knock on that door.
They wouldn't want me.
But you could have asked.
It would only have taken a little courage.
You had found your family.
Perhaps it was enough - finding him seeing him.
I had no part of the life in that cottage.
All I ever known was the searching.
If you'd told him who you were what you wanted.
What I saw through that window was happiness.
I didn't want to be the one to spoil it.
You may not know it, but your being amongst us, your searching, has affected all of us here.
Families have found the courage to say what could not be said.
What was broken has been mended.
But perhaps it is your turn to rest now.
There is no need for you to go on wandering.
It's so cold.
Your Pa might be waiting for you.
Wouldn't you like to find him now? Go and search for him, where he is now.
What do you think? I'd be glad of a rest.
The cold wind do bite.
What is your name? Molly Mears.
.
.
Oh, glory be to God on earth and to the earth be peace Goodwill has fallen from Heaven to man Begin and never cease I think you're the finest wassailing man this side of Banbury! Ma, it's your song.
You must sing it.
Sing with me, Dorcas.
Oh, no, Emma.
I can't sing.
It's my one true weakness.
I have a voice like I won't hear of it.
Sing! No, Emma, really, I can't.
Dorcas, you spend your life telling people they are capable of more than they believe.
Now I am telling you you can sing! O little town of Bethlehem How still we see thee lie Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting light The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight For Christ is Thomas and Miss Ellison did have their Christmas together.
Almost.
.
.
all above While mortals sleep The angels keep The Arlesses celebrated Christmas, knowing that the new year would bring hope of a new home and new togetherness.
Proclaim the holy birth And praises sing to God the King And peace to men on earth How silently, how silent Are we born into a family? .
.
the wondrous gift is given Or is it something that's given to us, like a blessing? .
.
the blessings of his heaven No ear may hear his coming But in this world of sin Where meek souls will receive him still The dear Christ enters in Ghost and Ghouls Holy child of Bethlehem Descend to us we pray Perhaps it is something that will always be there for us when we need it.
.
.
And enter in Be born in us today Until at last, we belong.
But these are also times when we can forget how fortunate we are The wind do blow.
There are those who spend their whole lives searching for the sense of belonging the rest of us take for granted.
The wind do blow.
The best of intentions can pull families apart, so that parents and children can be divided by their wish to love and be loved.
I'm not sure we will need the goose this year, with Matthew gone to take care of his brother, and you, Thomas, going off to visit your sisters.
Once a year, no more.
My sisters insist.
I think they appreciate my sermon before Christmas lunch.
Although they are not so much a devout family.
God meant us to celebrate Christ's birthday in the company of our loved ones, not hanging baubles from the ceiling.
Dear Thomas, I can't imagine for one moment you believe that.
For all you grumble, you hang the decorations with such care.
You give yourself away too easily.
Ma'am, Miss Lane, I cannot, I will not, allow you to consider that I would ever indulge Christmas.
Then I shall take up your share of indulgence, Thomas Brown.
I will have the goose anyway.
Ma'am, if I'm returning to Lark Rise on Christmas Eve, then you will be spending Christmas Day on your own.
I have no intention of feeling sorry for myself I shall fill the house with exotic treats and invite my neighbours in.
I shan't want for company.
If nothing else I can share a glass of mulled wine with the sisters Pratt.
Ma'am, Miss Ruby and Miss Pearl have plans to spend the festivities in Paris.
Candleford is promising to be a ghost town this Yuletide.
Stand.
Ladies, if I may, you have just put a charm on the morning.
Beg pardon.
Walter! As soon as we arrive in Paris we must visit the Bon Marche.
Ruby, you must remember to pack our furs.
Yes, I will, I thought we might also take a walk The largest department store in the world.
I'm sure it will inspire us.
Perhaps when we are there, we might examine one or two small premises, perhaps make one or two dauntless steps in the direction of expansion.
Don't you think we might enjoy a walk down the Champs-Elysees The Pratts of Paris.
We have a certain ring of success to it, walk on! I shall put clean sheets on every bed come Christmas Eve.
We will get her home.
And I would dearly love to lock that door, as if there ain't no world out there.
Just us.
Our family.
The Timmins.
Our Laura under our own roof.
It's a beautiful gift, Emma.
Our Laura will cherish it, all her life long.
Ma'am? Here, have a pinch.
The ghost of a good snuff's better than nothing.
I have to find a penny or two from somewhere, or the little 'uns will have no more'n a cabbage in their stockings.
Perhaps we might encourage Pa to seek out a bit of work, to tide us by.
Don't you go upsetting your Pa.
He needs more time to find his land legs, that's all.
There ain't a lot of call for master riggers in Lark Rise.
He's had near-on three months.
How much longer will he need? Now, this here is from the waters of Constantinople.
And the women in that port are all goddesses.
Oh, we shall have the best of Christmases, just you see.
We shall feather the foam.
Something always turns up.
Love and joy come to you And to your wassail too.
Twister, didn't you used to go wassailing in your younger days? Wassailing? I had my banjo then.
Whatever happened to that old banjo? And I was the most thriving wassailing man this side of Banbury.
Ain't that right, Queenie, my dear? Oh, you could wassail, all right.
It was bringing home his makings where Twister fell short.
Ain't that right, Twister, my dear? Oh, that's the milk cart going.
I'm away to Candleford.
What business have you got in Candleford, Caroline? Family business.
None of your business business.
Ned! Ned, wait for me.
I'm coming with you.
Ned! Ned, I need a ride! Ah, Thomas.
There you are.
Here I am, Miss Margaret.
Second delivery.
Same as yesterday.
God permitting.
Same as tomorrow.
I was wondering, if, when your sisters might be expecting you? Christmas Eve.
Same as last year.
Same as the year before.
It seems, since my father is going off to Winchester, seems a pity that you and I cannot have Our Christmas.
Yes! Together.
So to speak.
Miss Margaret, since you are free at Christmas Yes .
.
and I feel the hand of God at work in these circumstances Yes! Since I will be away, Miss Lane might need a Christmas companion.
Miss Lane? Lor, dear.
Would there be, or has there been, a letter for my Walter? Perhaps one with naval markings on it? I cannot say if there is, or was.
Well, I ain't asking you to read it to me.
No, That would be disgraceful.
Only, you can tell me if there is one.
Post Office Regulations, Mrs Arless.
I'm forbidden.
Laura Timmins, I have spanked your arse many a time, and it ain't too late now.
Don't you give me all your hoity-toity Candleford regulations.
Mrs Arless, it won't be necessary for you to spank Laura.
The regulations, as I am sure you know by now, are not Candleford's but the Post Office's.
And I am therefore the one responsible for imposing them.
I do hope you won't threaten to punish me so enthusiastically.
Oh, no, Miss Lane.
No.
I am just trying to discover, Miss Lane, since it is Christmas, and since I do have four children at home.
Four? The baby.
I do have FIVE children at home, I think I have a right to know if my husband is seeking a ship, if he's found one, And if my little 'uns ain't gonna have a Pa.
At Christmas.
Yes, I do sympathise.
I have every respect for regulations, Miss Lane, course I do.
But couldn't you wink like this if there is a letter, and maybe fix your hair like this if there isn't? Mrs Arless, such skulduggery is not the way of the Post Office.
I am sorry.
Mrs Arless, you are staring at us.
I'm looking to see it in your faces.
Should I hope or should I fear? Yes.
There it is! I should hope.
I knew it.
My mind has been running away with itself.
My Walter wouldn't take off, not again, not at Christmas.
Oh, Ma'am, I feel as though I have betrayed her, knowing a letter went out for Mr Arless this morning.
We deliver letters, Laura.
That is all.
It is not for us to meddle in the lives of our neighbours.
I know what I am.
I can't help the toes, nose and attitudes God gave me .
.
but give a man a banjo, and you'll find out what kind of man he truly is! You all right there? Don't the cold bite your bones, though.
You need a night by a warm fire.
My home is there in Lark Rise.
There ain't flames enough in this world to warm my carcass.
How about a traveller tell you your fortune, sir? Meaning no offence, Miss, I ain't one for the likes of omens and prophesies.
Where are you headed? I been searching.
For a man, name of Jeremiah Mears.
Is he known hereabouts? I ain't heard the name, no.
No-one has.
But he's out there somewhere.
Somewhere You have a daughter.
I have three daughters.
Every man around here has daughters.
But your daughter has two mothers.
That can be a gift or a torment for a family.
The wind do blow.
Ma'am, the doorbell sounded but when I looked there was no-one there and the door is closed Oh, perhaps it was some mysterious Christmas spirit come looking for a stamp.
Oh, Laura, I do enjoy your over-active mind when it runs away with itself.
Perhaps you could take some ghost stories to bed with you, to intensify your senses, every little creak on the stairs.
Don't you believe in the spirit world, Ma'am? There are enough things in this world to disturb us, Laura, without us seeking them out in the shadows in the night.
You see this one? I took it off the shores of Sebastopol, waters so deep, they call it the Black Sea.
If you look closely enough, and you have eyes for it, you can see the black.
Hmm? I can see it! Yes, I can see it! Walter, tell them about Zanzibar - about the "exoticals".
This onethis one here, I took from the Indian Ocean during my time in Zanzibar.
The most exotic women that ever blessed God's earth.
Dark skin shines like midnight.
Fabulously beautiful.
But mind, not one of them can hold a candle up to your Ma.
There's someone outthere Who is it, Caroline? 'T'aint no-one.
Wind is all.
The wind do blow.
Ma, the shop windows, they're glowing with lights.
The whole town, it's like a picture.
It feels like christmas should be Right, that's splendid, our Laura.
I only hope a hamlet Christmas won't be a disappointment to you.
We're all looking forward to having you back under your own roof again.
Ma, I happened to see I wasn't looking, I promise But Miss Lane is giving me It has my name on it The most beautiful leather It's the loveliest thing I've ever known.
A journal.
Why Yes.
What a thoughtful gift.
The wind do blow.
Ma, Miss Lane will be alone at Christmas, with Zillah gone.
She's so determined to be brave.
She's so kindly to everyone.
Perhaps you would like to stay with Cousin Dorcas over Christmas, Laura.
Could I? Could I truly? You wouldn't mind? Cos she can't leave the Post Office, you see, it's tradition.
She belongs there.
Of course.
Why not? She is your family, after all.
Miss Lane.
Miss Margaret, come in.
I always think it is the figs which make a mince pie.
Forgive me for being so forward in putting myself forward.
Thomas has explained to me, not that he has confided in me anything of a sensitive nature, only, since my father is in Winchester on his pilgrimage again this year, and since you are without a maid, it seemed to me I might serve as your Christmas companion.
Christmas companion? For the duration.
Thomas assured me you would welcome some delicate company in the evenings Miss Margaret, you have come to my rescue, And I would indeed appreciate some delicate company.
We must sleep on the voyage over.
Oh, but I am so looking forward to gazing out at the sea, even at night as it is Ruby, we must be properly invigorated to fully appreciate Paris.
Yes, Pearl.
The wind do blow.
Ruby! What are you thinking of? Pearl, surely we can show a little compassion.
Where are your senses, girl? A piece of our finery draped over a vagabond.
Our reputation will be in shreds.
Now come along, back up here.
Never mind the capethe damage is done.
Walk on! I'm sorry, Pearl.
I don't quite know what came over me.
A sentimental heart's what came over you.
Weakness, Ruby, is not a virtue.
It is a vice that only leads to more weakness.
Pearl, you can go and hop! Go and hop? I have no intention of spending Christmas in Paris with a wicked, heartless harridan! Ruby, you can get out of this carriage.
You are beyond yourself and I will not travel one yard further with you.
Why would I visit the Bon Marche with an ugly, mean-eyed, crack-skinned hag face? Get out! Get out! Walk on! Thomas talks about the Post Office teas all of the time.
Thomas has told me of the delights of herrings, eggs, sausages, pastries Though not normally all at once, Miss Margaret.
I thought it might set you up for your long journey to your sister's, Thomas.
Ma'am Miss Lane, my Ma says that I can remain at the Post Office with you! You're sure? She said that herself I will go.
You didn't badger your mother? No, Ma'am.
I promise you.
Well, this promises to be the best Post Office Christmas we have ever had.
What is it, Thomas? It's er, my sisters.
Their plans have changed.
They are unable to entertain me.
Regretfully.
It appears I will remain here, in the Post Office, after all.
For Christmas.
That beggar woman's been on my mind all day long.
Wandering out there with a hard winter coming in.
Oh, Robert, what have I done? I can only know that if you tell me.
The words just leapt out of my mouth, I can hardly believe I said them.
Em, the mystery of it is too much for a man who likes plain talking.
I have told our Laura that she should spend Christmas in Candleford with Cousin Dorcas.
But you have been pastering me about her coming home for weeks.
Why would you do such a thing? Perhaps I feel pity for Dorcas and it would be nice for Laura and the truth is I don't know.
I was overcome by a feeling of an impulse.
Oh, it is done, and there is no turning back.
I know well enough a way to turn back.
Miss Pratt, isn't it? It's so cold.
Here, take my jacket.
This old coat may be no more'n a rag, but you wearing it make it fine enough.
Come on.
That's it, there.
I am grateful for your true chivalry.
It's Mr Arless, isn't it? Walter Arless.
Master Rigger.
How did you come to be out here in the woods all shivering and alone? The advantage of telling your troubles to me, Miss Pratt, is that I am a man of no matter.
Silent night, holy night All is calm, all is bright Round yon virgin mother and child Holy infant so tender and mild Sleep in heavenly peace Sleep in heavenly peace Gentlemen, what a treat.
Not entirely without motivation, Miss Lane.
Twister and I were wondering if you might allow us to sing Carols here, outside the Post Office.
Oh, that would be splendid.
Thank you.
Just for the Christmas spirit of it, there'll be a cap on the ground.
Though that will provide a feeling of good cheer all about.
It's the best of spots to catch folks with a few pennies in their pockets.
Peace on Earth outside of my own front door? How can I object? Yes.
You have my permission.
.
.
Glad tidings of great joy To you and all mankind I don't know why those awful words came into my mouth.
It was like I had no choice in the matter.
But But you believed every word of it? They were things that have been torturing my mind for so many years.
And now I am all torn up with shame and regret.
And perhaps a little relief? Well.
Yes.
A little.
In truth, more than a little.
Ma'am, perhaps it ain't such a bad thing this happened.
It may - excuse the vulgarity - burst the boil.
I do think the boil has been burst.
My problem is, I have to go home and face The Boil in all her vindictive splendour.
You hold on tight, the world will soon stop spinning.
I promise you.
I do hope I won't be spoiling Laura too much with so many extravagances.
Just leave it on the table, please.
Thank you.
Do you know, I am rather enjoying having the responsibility of kitchen to myself To be honest, I didn't think I could do it, but once I was started I realised I knew more than I thought I did.
The truth is, the reason I do it the pate, the stuffing, all of it, is to fill the kitchen with all those smells and flavours in the sentimental hope that they might bring something back, something that is lost.
You see, Mr Timmins, I may appear to you to be the forbidding, meddlesome Post Mistress, but I am a hopelessly emotional creature.
Christmas can do that to the best of us takes our emotions to a place where we long for the comfort of family.
Which is why I am so grateful to you for permitting Laura to stay here with me.
If it were anyone else making such an offer I would be suspicious that there was something wrong, but since it is you and Emma, I can trust that it is simply a gesture of true kinship.
Now, I have some gifts for Emma, and the children, and you, of course.
Now, I am utterly selfish when it comes to buying gifts for people.
I give no thought to the recipient, I simply buy what I would want them to have.
I have been wittering on.
Was there something you want to speak with me about? Yes, there was.
Do you know the name Jeremiah Mears? No, I don't.
It comes from an old Norse word, "myrr", which means marsh.
I do love my local history.
I pick it up over the counter.
Why do you ask? I came upon a beggar woman in the woods.
She was searching for this man, Mears.
In the woods at this time of year? She will freeze.
My thoughts exactly.
Jeremiah Mears.
I will ask our local historians over the counter.
I have been fretting the day long about poor Cousin Dorcas.
Not so much about you telling her the way things must be, but my part in setting her heart to hoping.
I would invite her here but I know that it's not what she wants.
Was she sorely upset? Em Oh, and she sent gifts.
Em, I didn't tell Dorcas.
I couldn't, not when I saw the need in her.
Need? Dorcas Lane? She can have any number of friends and neighbours by her side.
With her dates, and figs and the like.
Turkish Delights! Why must she have our Laura, too? Our Laura is quite happy A child might be grateful to come home to her family.
Might consider her Ma and Pa before her employer.
Is that what this is about? You think she would rather be there than with us? Well, it's donw now We will make the most of it.
We have four other children.
We will give them the Christmas they deserve.
It's not all about Laura Timmins.
We will forget such brutal, undeserved words were spoken.
We will put behind us that Paris has been lost.
It is my own fault.
I have been too soft on you.
Well, I intend to rescue you no more.
Good.
Did you say "good"? I am tired of your bullying, you old boil.
Festering boil.
Ruby, you are beyond felicity.
Pearl, you speak like a baboon who swallowed a dictionary.
Laura, did you spill something on the stairs? No, Ma'am.
Look.
Ma'am Has the Post Office ever had ghosts? Oh, yes.
Thomas invokes the Holy Ghost at every opportunity.
Honestly, I am a woman with Darwin on my bookshelves! Do you really think I can give credence to phantoms in the night? I need a warm bath to put me in the mood for sleep again.
Now Laura, stop this nonsense.
Thomas must have left a window open, that is all.
Let's be logical.
Why on earth would a ghost want to trouble us? Why now? At Christmas.
The wind do blow.
Ma'am.
Something is knocking.
Yes, I know, Laura.
I can hear it.
Miss Lane What shall we do, Ma'am? We will do as we would do in a rational world.
We will open the door.
Are we ready? Paris is off! Paris is cancelled! Oh, dear.
Go and hop! Can anyone countenance what could've come over the girl? After all I've given her - all the years of giving, giving.
I give, Miss Lane? Do I not give? And, the look on her face.
Miss Lane, the look.
One can only describe it as malevolence! Malevolent.
My own sister.
As if she was possessed.
Perhaps, in the morning I throw myself on your mercy, Miss Lane.
I cannot possibly let her see me like this, so deeply, deeply overcome.
Well, this is turning into quite a Christmas one way and another Thomas Brown, perhaps you could fetch my suitcase? Ah.
You meantonight? Now? To go out? Onto the street? I left it on the doorstep.
My sister hasn't been the same since she gave a perfectly good cape to that tramp on the lane.
A tramp? Can I ask you how she was dressed? She had on Miss Lane, can you countenance A man's dressing gown? The wind do blow.
There's something going on behind those eyes of yours.
Dorcas Lane has had made for our Laura, a fine leather journal.
With her name on it.
Laura saw it by accident.
There.
Said it.
And I am being weak and self-pitying.
If it was about a journal, you might be.
Dorcas Lane.
Post Mistress.
Independent woman.
Taste and wealth.
Ain't afraid to let the world see it.
Loved in every quarter of the country.
What young girl wouldn't want her for a Ma? Give Laura the journal, Em.
Sometimes we must trust other people.
We can't know how Laura will feel.
Who knows how things will turn out? If you don't give it to her you'll be doing something terrible to yourself, and I won't let that happen.
Do it.
Take the chance.
Trust.
It only takes a bit of courage.
Here we come a wassailing among the leaves so green Here we come a wandering so fair to be seen Love and joy come to you And to you, your wassail too And God bless you and send you A Happy New Year And God send you a Happy New Year We're gonna save every penny we make, Alfie.
I'm gonna show Queenie that a man can be the man he never was meant to be.
Miss Lane, will you give us a verse? Them as is passing might find that pleasing enough to open their purses.
You won't get me singing, gentlemen.
I don't have the voice for it.
Everyone has a voice, Miss Lane.
But not everyone has a tune.
But I must admit, your carol singing is rather a success, here, outside of the Post Office.
The best time for wassailing is midnight, Christmas Eve.
See, folks with a drink in 'em tend to have boundless generosity about 'em.
I used to love carols at midnight, as a child.
Oh, what a wonderful idea! We can make an event of it.
Decorate the Post Office.
Oh, this is turning out to be quite a Christmas! The wind do blow.
Ain't this the coldest winter ever there was? Perhaps I could tell your fortune, my darling, for a tater or an onion for the pot? Come in.
I have a stew on the stove.
My husband said he saw you in the woods.
Oh, but you have such thoughts on your mind.
Is it written in my face? Oh, they're only small troubles.
Any woman with a daughter away in service has to get over the same thing.
You're going to have to find out if they're true, these thoughts of yours.
How can you claim to know my thoughts? My, look at your poor feet! You're wet soaked.
Come stand by the stove till we dry you out.
A daughter's love.
Your feet aren't getting dry at all.
Here, let me wipe them for you.
You'll find out if it's true, what's in your mind.
You are set on it.
Be careful you don't break the whole world in half.
Yes.
Yes.
I do fear it You ain't got no kitbag, Walter.
You can't leave.
Go on.
Get gone.
Go! Go! But you can leave, course you can, if the sea is calling, kit bag or no kit bag, you'll be gone.
Why, Caroline What's put such thunder in your face? Oh, the truth.
I heard my Walter snoring that snore he snores every time he gets a yearning for the sea in him.
Yearning is only yearning, Caroline.
If Walter found local work then No.
It's more than a hankering.
He was wearing his boots in bed.
That means he's getting hisself ready to leave.
Still, my dear, there's time to talk to him and No, there ain't.
I seen the letter.
There's a ship! Oh, my.
I been looking in them waters and I seen it.
The reason.
All my life I been wondering, why does my man run off to sea at every opportunity? Now I see the truth for it.
I ain't wife enough for him, because I'm too much.
Caroline, how can you be too much if you ain't enough? I give him no rest.
I'm loud, I'm coarse.
There's a baby every time he so much as looks fondly upon me and I cause terrible mayhem at every turn.
True enough, my dear, but you're the same woman he married.
Walter just loves the sea, Caroline.
There's something ain't right about it.
I felt compelled to know the truth about it.
As if there was something else in that cottage.
As if the knocking and the cold wind made me take the letter out of his pocket.
That's how I felt when that gypsy woman knocked at my door.
What gypsy women? I keep wondering if it was a dream.
That ain't no dream.
That's the same woman 'er Robert saw out in the woods, looking for Jeremiah Mears.
Was there anything peculiar about her? Her feet! They were wet through and even though I wiped them, they wouldn't dry.
I saw her again here, yesterday.
She's about here somewhere.
We'll search every inch of these woods.
What good is decorations and what joy is there in gifts, if there's a thought in our head about one lost soul out here in the freezing cold? You're too late, Robert.
You couldn't save her, Robert, because you're nigh-on 80 years too late.
I heard a tale at my father's knee, of a body was found in that pond.
A young woman.
Nobody knew who she was, see? A traveller.
So they took her out and buried her, but not in the graveyard.
In the woods.
This girl who died You're saying it's the same one I spoke to out in the forest? The tale must be true.
But why is her spirit still here searching? Queenie.
I have every respect for what you know of the history of your hamlet.
Jeremiah Mears was a local man.
Local family.
I found all their stones up in the graveyard.
Perhaps the girl I spoke to wasn't looking for the man, she was looking for his grave, or his descendents.
She looked to be in poor fettle.
Perhaps her mind has gone.
All of her is gone, Robert.
Why don't we go and look for her grave in the woods and then we'll see.
You must be doing well, going over to Candleford every day.
We is.
Candleford folk appreciate a carol, well sung.
Miss Lane has arranged for a carol singing at midnight on Christmas Eve.
Decorating the Post Office, the street We'll need two hats to put on the ground.
Three! The wind do blow.
Child? Merry Christmas.
Thank you.
Do you remember, Laura, when you were a child, we used to sing carols in the hamlet, at midnight on Christmas Eve? We're bringing it back this year.
Why? That's strange! Did you know Miss Lane is planning There's nothing strange about it.
We're intent on making this the best Lark Rise Christmas ever.
Do you not remember? I would wake you up, to come out and listen.
Your little face would glow.
You would hold my hand as I sang.
Ma, why are you doing this? What am I doing? I'm reminding you of the best of times, that's all.
Family times.
Our times.
It do seem pretty.
Are you in trouble? Trouble? Why would I be in trouble? We hide when we're in trouble.
I'm not hiding Why, Miss Pratt? Are you in trouble? No.
No, I was just explaining toto Look at you, you're shivering! Here, your tiny little toes must be near freezing off.
Come on, let's put you near a roaring fire.
No, I couldn't, it's not possible, no, but really No, no, I've got a lovely big fire.
There.
If you offered me the choice between warm toes and a bottle of champagne, every time I would choose a bottle of champagne! May I offer you a bite, Miss Pratt? Here, have a bowl of my best pease pudding There, you don't mind a bit of wind, do you? Just pease pudding is fabled for it.
No.
I don't mind.
A gust of warm air this time of year, most welcome.
Yes.
Mrs.
Arless.
I'm full of admiration for you.
Admiration? For me? You keep your family together in the most difficult circumstances.
But I don't keep them together, do I? I'm not capable of that.
There ain't nothing more in this whole world that I would wish for.
Still, what on earth were you doing out there? I I must go.
My sister will be wondering where I am.
Oh, Walter.
Ain't you the gentleman? This lady needs escorting, for fear of collapsing in the road.
Right.
Why must you always run away? It ain't running away.
It's the call of the ocean.
Well, perhaps that's what you believe.
But I know, you see.
I am the child of a father who took to the road.
I don't think anybody runs away TO.
I believe we run away from.
That's what I see in your face now.
The advantage of telling your troubles to me, is that I am a woman of no matter.
I don't know how to be with them.
I ain't got the legs for it.
The soul for it.
I fail them every time.
I go because I see they're better off without me.
Go home.
Go and be with your family.
Don't tell them about your tales of the sea.
Ask about them.
Their day.
Their lives.
Meet them.
Try to see them I know I'm intruding but I could not live with myself if I did not tell you what I know to be true.
What goes on in a child's heart when her father runs.
Please.
Try.
For one day.
Surely, we can do for one day, that which seems impossible for a lifetime.
Singing the day long makes a man's throat too croaked for tea! There's the inn waiting across the street.
Could quench our thirst with a nice warm beer.
Just the one, eh.
It's only a few pennies.
Who's to know? Let's see how much we have.
Oh, I can't do it.
I've swore to myself and it would undo my soul if I supped one sip of that ill-got ale.
Alfie, you must press that money into your pocket till we get us back to Lark Rise.
Take me to my own door, hand it to me there.
Push me across the threshold if you have to.
I will take my makings home this time.
I will lay them on the table.
Oh, what Christmas joy to prove a woman wrong! Laura, what is it? I'm sorry, Ma'am.
I'll come right down.
Did something happen in Lark Rise to upset you? It did, didn't it? My Ma seems so out of sorts.
It's my fault, I know it is.
She seems so hurt and it must be because I've said I'll spend Christmas here.
But it's her idea.
Your father assured me She wants me there with her.
I can feel she does.
Well, we will go over to Lark Rise and speak with her face to face.
We've done it, Alfie, boy.
We've done it.
The finest old wassailing man this side of Banbury! The wind do blow Queenie! Pa? What are you searching for? A grave.
Or something that looks like a grave.
Or something that might have been a grave.
Or a piece of wood with a name on it.
I think I half-remember seeing something out here.
A name.
Where? Where did you see it, Laura? Show me.
Robert.
May I speak with you about our Christmas arrangements? I am more than a little concerned that Emma may have well, that there may be a misunderstanding.
It's more than a misunderstanding, Ma'am.
It's the thing my wife fears most in this world.
Emma torments herself with thoughts that she is not mother enough for our Laura.
Emma? Not mother enough? But she's the living spirit of motherhood.
She has such grace.
She is tireless, she is abundant and it is effortless.
How could she possibly? She considers herself poor, stood next to you.
If I have done anything to provoke such a thought I will never forgive myself.
Oh, I have, haven't I? Encouraging Laura to stay at the Post Office for Christmas.
We must undo this.
I will apologise to Emma.
No, Dorcas.
We must never acknowledge this conversation to Emma.
Or to Laura.
Laura loves her mother dearly.
I see it in her every day.
Emma has made a journal for Laura, sewn her name on the front of it.
Oh, and I have But I don't understand.
How could you know? Here it is! Paris is fortunate indeed to have escaped the prospect of a boil on its Christmas.
Oh, Pearl, you are not a boil.
You are a women who has been given the care of a broke-hearted sister.
Perhaps I care a little too enthusiastically.
Perhaps.
At times.
Though for the best of reasons.
Paris next year then? Cinderella Doe Doe is a legal term, usually it means someone unknown.
Nameless.
It means no-one.
If there's a grave, there is someone.
A human life.
Deserves marking.
Who was she? Why was she in Lark Rise? Queenie, I had the most vivid dream I saw this woman, Cinderella Doe.
She reached a house in Lark Rise, and she looked through the window, at a family in there.
She found him.
Jeremiah Mears, her Pa.
But she turned away.
Went up the lane, towards the pond.
Why did she turn away if she'd be searching for him for so long? Only way to find that out, is to ask her.
Right, Arlesses.
Sit down Right.
Now, this might look like pease pudding.
It might smell like pease pudding.
It might even taste like pease pudding.
But this here is royal porridge.
The Queen's own recipe.
She insists on it every day for breakfast and for dinner.
And I thought, well, if it's good enough for the Queen, it might just do for us Arlesses.
And the reason why Her Majesty loves this royal porridge so much is because every spoonful makes a person sing.
Shall I try? Yeah.
.
.
Soon the hoar old year must leave us But the parting must not grieve us When the new year come tomorrow Can't have you putting a warm arse on a cold seat, can we? So, what have you been doing today then, eh? Well, go on.
Tell your Pa what you've been up to.
Go on.
Tell him about collecting the holly in the wood to make wreath for the front door Go on.
Tell him.
Tell him.
Caroline Arless, you are a force of nature.
You were too much when I met you and you are still too much.
And I love you for it.
Let him find no trace of sorrow Now I been thinking, I might try my hand at sail making.
My brother's yard, Walton Bay.
Settle down.
Give my creaking knees a rest.
Might even build us a little place over there.
What, us? Have a home? Like a proper family? Well, it might take a while finding things the way we want them to be.
Me and your Ma get things sorted, then we come back and fetch you.
And you could stay with Queenie! She'd like that, she's very fond of taking in.
And you'd like that, wouldn't you.
Course you would.
Ain't this the best Christmas ever! Deck the halls with boughs of holly Ohoh, right.
Come on, stop that! Ma.
Laura.
Hello, Queenie.
Emma, I think Laura might be struggling a little with, well, where to spend Christmas.
I don't see why there has to be any strain.
Families ought to be a joy.
Emma, I wonder if we might alter our plans a little.
I have been a fool to think Laura won't be pining for her home on Christmas Day.
She's been itching already.
But our Laura was most anxious not to leave you on your own for the holiday.
I have a proposal.
I would like to invite myself to the End House for Christmas Dinner.
But, Ma'am, what about the goose and the oysters and the pate? I would much rather treat myself to a day with family.
We are family, aren't we, Emma? You and I.
You're all I have left now.
Yes.
We are.
Dorcas.
Some of us Lark Rise folk are planning to sing some carols at midnight.
I know you are planning something similar outside the Post Office Do you suppose we might join you? I could think of no better way to celebrate Christmas! We're ready.
We're ready.
If her spirit do come, there might be noises or smells, feelings touches on your skin.
I'm being tickled now.
But that ain't no spirit, that's me.
Oh, sorry.
We're calling on the spirit of Cinderella Doe.
God give you rest.
All we want is to help deliver you to peace.
God give you rest.
Come to us now that we might know what you want.
God give you rest.
Come on, my dear.
You can join us.
Come on.
Sit amongst us as friends.
As friends.
That's it.
You come to us now.
Queenie! Queenie, my dear I have it here, somewhere.
I have it.
Alfie will tell you.
In my pockets.
The finest wassailing man The makings My last lovely penny.
Here we go a-wassailing That'll teach you to summon souls from beyond this world, Queenie? The wind do blow 'Scuse me, my darlin'.
You heard of a man name of Jeremiah Mears hereabouts? Can I ask why you're searching for him? He's my Pa.
That name was told to me by my Ma, see.
I whispered it and prayed it, and shouted it every day of my life.
Like the saying of it might bring him closer.
He took off and left when I was a babe and he ain't nowhere to be found.
But I think you have found him already.
Back there.
I saw that family, so cosy and warm and proper.
And I saw what I was.
What I had become - no more'n a tramp on the road, Every bit of me made of dirt.
I couldn't knock on that door.
They wouldn't want me.
But you could have asked.
It would only have taken a little courage.
You had found your family.
Perhaps it was enough - finding him seeing him.
I had no part of the life in that cottage.
All I ever known was the searching.
If you'd told him who you were what you wanted.
What I saw through that window was happiness.
I didn't want to be the one to spoil it.
You may not know it, but your being amongst us, your searching, has affected all of us here.
Families have found the courage to say what could not be said.
What was broken has been mended.
But perhaps it is your turn to rest now.
There is no need for you to go on wandering.
It's so cold.
Your Pa might be waiting for you.
Wouldn't you like to find him now? Go and search for him, where he is now.
What do you think? I'd be glad of a rest.
The cold wind do bite.
What is your name? Molly Mears.
.
.
Oh, glory be to God on earth and to the earth be peace Goodwill has fallen from Heaven to man Begin and never cease I think you're the finest wassailing man this side of Banbury! Ma, it's your song.
You must sing it.
Sing with me, Dorcas.
Oh, no, Emma.
I can't sing.
It's my one true weakness.
I have a voice like I won't hear of it.
Sing! No, Emma, really, I can't.
Dorcas, you spend your life telling people they are capable of more than they believe.
Now I am telling you you can sing! O little town of Bethlehem How still we see thee lie Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting light The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight For Christ is Thomas and Miss Ellison did have their Christmas together.
Almost.
.
.
all above While mortals sleep The angels keep The Arlesses celebrated Christmas, knowing that the new year would bring hope of a new home and new togetherness.
Proclaim the holy birth And praises sing to God the King And peace to men on earth How silently, how silent Are we born into a family? .
.
the wondrous gift is given Or is it something that's given to us, like a blessing? .
.
the blessings of his heaven No ear may hear his coming But in this world of sin Where meek souls will receive him still The dear Christ enters in Ghost and Ghouls Holy child of Bethlehem Descend to us we pray Perhaps it is something that will always be there for us when we need it.
.
.
And enter in Be born in us today Until at last, we belong.