Episode 486.a Bubble Guppies: The Witch in Black! (Part 1)

Plot
In Bubbletucky, lawyer Gil Gordon still grieves the death of his beloved wife Molly on the delivery of their son Nonny four years ago. His employer gives him a last chance to keep his job, and he is assigned to travel to the remote village of Cryphin Gifford to examine the documentation of the Eel Marsh House that belonged to the recently deceased Mrs. Drablow. Gil befriends Mr. Langoustine on the train and the man offers a ride to him to the Gifford Arms inn. Gil has a cold reception and the owner of the inn tells that he did not receive the request of reservation and there is no available room. The next morning, Gil meets solicitor Mr. Grouper who advises him to return to London. However, Gil goes to the isolated manor and soon he finds that Eel Marsh House is haunted by the vengeful ghost of a woman dressed in black. He also learns that the woman lost her son drowned in the marsh and she seeks revenge, taking the children of the scared locals.

Cast (Characters from the real movie)

 * Gil as (Arthur Kipps)
 * Mr. Langoustine as (Mr. Daily)
 * Daisy as (Mrs. Daily)
 * Molly as (Stella Kipps)
 * The Witch as (Jennet Humfrye)
 * Frank the Tow Truck Lobster as (Mr. Bentley)
 * Mr. Gentilella as (Mr. Fisher)
 * Sandy as (Nanny)
 * Mrs. Shaskan as (Mrs. Fisher)
 * Archaeologist as (PC Collins)
 * Mr. Imani as (Gerald Hardy)
 * Mrs. Wahler as (Mrs. Hardy)
 * Mr. Grouper as (Mr. Jerome)
 * Mrs. Grouper as (Mrs. Jerome)
 * Oona, Ashlie, and Jimberly as (The Fisher's Daughters)
 * Goby as (Nicholas Daily)
 * Sir Mulligan as (Keckwick)
 * Tobias as (Nicholas's friend)
 * Deema as (Victoria Hardy)
 * Jonesy as (Tom Hardy)
 * Joshua as (Charlie Hardy)
 * Olivia as (Lucy Jerome)
 * Avi as (Nathaniel Humfrye)
 * Snail as (Alice Drablow)
 * Crabs, Lobsters, and Snails as (Other characters)

Information

 * Genres: Drama, Horror, Thriller
 * Rating: PG for a bit of violence, a little cursing, and for many scary scenes
 * Type of film: Horror

Trivia

 * This is based on the 2012 movie "The Woman in Black." You can read about it on Wikipedia or IMDb.
 * This story has some fanon characters and some main characters.

Story
Start of Part 1

(Scene: Gifford Arms Inn) (A welcoming-looking victorian inn in a rural market square. Outside, a market is in swing. Villagers bustle to and fro. In the gabled roof of the inn, an attic window is open, curtains billowing in the breeze.) (Scene: Attic Room) (A sparsely decorated but pleasant-enough country child’s bedroom - three small beds, a rocking horse, a window-seat beneath the open window. Three little girls, 8, 10 and 11, named Oona, Ashlie, and Jimberly, and dressed in simple mid-period Victorian dresses and pinafores, sit on the floorplaying tea party. Teddy bears and porcelain dolls are seated, picnic-style,on a kerchief as the girls cheerfully prepare them make-believe cups of tea in a china tea set. Outside, we can hear the chatter of the market-day crowd.Without warning, the three girls stop and look upsimultaneously, their eyes fixed on something across the room, their faces suddenly, disturbingly, blank. With steady, synchronised movement, the girls stand. The things they had been holding - china tea cups, dolls -drop from their hands and laps, and fall to the floor. In eerily perfect unison, the girls turn away from us to face the window. As one, they step daintily towards the window, oblivious asthey knock over toys, crush little china plates. They climb onto the window seat and stand in the frame of the open window, silhouetted against the bright sky. Then, they jump.) (Scene: Bedroom) (Staring blankly at himself in a washstand mirror, Gil Gordon, 27, uses a cut-throat razor to shave. His shirt is clean, hair neat, but he has a distracted, distant look. He wipes his face with a washcloth. We hear a soft woman's voice.) Female Voice: Hello, angel. (Gil closes his eyes a moment, finishes wiping his face, then turns slowly, wanting to prolong the moment. The room is empty. No one but Gil here. Behind him is a ladies' dressing table. A brush, comb, hand-mirror, perfume and powder are laid out neatly, along with a dish of sunflower seeds. Beside the dressing table is a birdcage. From within, a mynah bird looks at Gil, its head cocked. He moves towards it carefully.) Gil: (whispering to the bird) Again. Say it again. (Silence. Then the bird speaks, in a perfect imitation of Gil's own voice.) Mynah Bird: (in Gil's voice) Say it again. (Gil and the bird stare one another out.) Mynah Bird: (in Gil's voice) Not my voice. Wretched bird. (Gil shakes his head in bleak amusement and feeds the bird a couple of sunflower seeds.) Gil: I could just forget to remind Sandy to feed you while I’m gone, you know. (Gil turns his back on the bird and busies himself closing a suitcase that is lying on the bed nearby. Now we hear a different voice, this time coming from outside the room. It belongs to Gil’s son’s nanny, Sandy, 50s.) Sandy: Mr. Gordon? Gil: I’ll be there in a moment! (Gil slips on a waistcoat and moves to the nightstand. He opens a drawer and brings out a hip flask. He shakes it near his ear, and slips it into his trouser pocket. From on top of the nightstand he picks up a fob watch. Observant aficionados of Victorian mourning jewelry mightnote that the fob is woven from strawberry-pink hair. Gil clicks open the cover of the watch. On the inside is a portrait of a young woman with bright pink hair the same colour.) Gil: Time to go. (He snaps the cover shut.) (Scene: Drawing Room) (A sheet of paper bearing a child's drawing: a stick-figure man waving to a stick-figure child outside a house. Below,an uneven square contains the word “Tuesday.” Over this we hear a child’s voice. It belongs to Gil’s son Nonny, 6.) Nonny: Do you like it, Daddy? Gil: Very much. (Gil sits in an armchair holding the drawing which, we notice, is bound together with other pictures by a ribbon. Nnonny, frail and tiny, perches on the arm of the chair.) Nonny: You didn't look at it properly. Gil: Of course I did. Sandy, have you seen this? Nonny made me a calendar. (Sandy, just now entering the room holding Gil's coat, stops and regards Gil with genuine surprise.) Sandy: My goodness you look dapper, Mr. Gordon. (catching herself) Not that I meant to imply - (Gil smiles weakly, waves away her apology. Nonny squirms impatiently for attention, pokes the calendar.) Nonny: You can cross off the days ‘til we’re back together. (Gil leafs through the other three pages... Wednesday and Thursday have just a named box.) Gil: I will. (The final page, Friday, also bears a drawing: a stick-figure man carrying a stick-figure child. Beside them is a large train, clouds of steam billowing from it’s engine. The stick-man’s face has a straight line for a mouth, a grave expression in contrast to the child’s big smile. Gil peers at this, his attention caught now.) Gil: Why do I look so sad? Nonny: That’s what your face looks like. Gil: Oh it is, is it? (He scoops Nonny up onto his lap, into his arms and growls mock-crossly, playfully tipping him backwards - an attempt at playful rough-and-tumble that we get the impression doesn’t happen very often. They both laugh. But when the laughter dies, Nonny suddenly looks serious.) Nonny: I wish you didn't have to go away from me. Sandy: (warning, don't start) Nonny... (Gil leans in to whisper to him.) Gil: Me too. But we’ll have the whole weekend in the countryside. (flipping through the calendar) See... Tomorrow, then Thursday,then we’re together again. Not long at all. (looking at the last drawing) Which reminds me - Sandy, I must give you the train tickets before I go. Don’t let me forget. Sandy: I... Mr. Gordon, may I have a word? (She gestures at Nonny: now with him in the room.) Gil: Can you fetch Daddy’s hat from the stand, please? The brown one? (Nonny trots away obediently. Alone now, Sandy looks grave.) Sandy: Are you sure about this? Nonny travelling in his condition? The doctor said - Gil: And I suppose the doctor reckons all this smog is just the thing for a bad chest, does he? Sandy: Sir... Gil: Getting out of Bubbletucky will do him the power of good. You’ll see. Sandy: Yes sir. (Nonny runs in carrying Gil's hat. He is out of breath.) Gil: Don’t run, darling! Don’t run. (Gil scoops him up and holds him close.) (Scene: Bubbletucky Streets) (A Hansom cab clatters through a thick, unpleasant smog.) (Scene: Hansom Cab) (Gil leans against the window, suitcase at his feet. Outside, visibility through the smog is virtually zero. Over this, we hear Frank, 60s, head of Gil's firm.) Frank: I don’t want you to regard this assignment as any sort of short straw, Gordon. I want you to view it as... an opportunity. (Scene: Frank's Office) (An austere room. Gil sits across from Frank, a hulking desk between them, a sheaf of paperwork in Gil’s hands.) Gil: (leafing through it) The late Mrs. Snail. Lived in India the last twenty-six years. Widow. One son, died in early childhood. Leaving here state to charity... Sounds straight forward enough. Frank: Come on, Gordon. I’m sure you’ve heard the talk among the clerks. The likely disarray of her paperwork... She left the country rather suddenly. And her home has been empty ever since. Gil: I’m sure I can tolerate a little dust, sir... Frank: I’m sure you can. (beat) I expect you to gather any documents of importance, retrieve the deeds for Eel Marsh House from the local solicitor, Mr. Grouper. And resolve any matters that might hinder a sale. Gil: And do you expect there to be... such matters? Frank: You have read the paperwork? Gil: (lying) Of course. Frank: Then you’ll be aware that all past attempts at a sale have ended in failure. Gil: Yes... Well, I’m quite sure that three days will be sufficient to get to the heart of it. (Frank regards Gil with a mixture of doubt and pity. He stands - Gil follows suit - and hands over an envelope.) Frank: A key to the house. And funds to cover your expenses. Gil: Thank you, sir. Frank: I’m aware that these last year shave been difficult for you, Gordon. I’m heartened to see the effort you’ve made today... (He gestures up and down, indicating Gil’s appearance.) Frank: And I’m hoping that you’ll seize this chance to prove your dedication to pursuing a future with this firm. Gil: My son is receiving medical treatment that I can scarcely fund even on my present wage, Frank. I can’t afford to consider a future without it. Frank: You have my sympathy. But we cannot afford to carry cargo. And I’m increasingly concerned that cargo is what you have become. (a beat) You have an opportunity to prove me wrong. Make use of it. (Scene: Law Firm Corridor) (Gil leaves Frank's office, smarting. Farther down the hall a group of well-dressed young legal clarks are gathered, talking and laughing. At the sound of Gil closing Frank’s door behind him, they look over, their chatter suspended. Gil ignores them and walks towards the exit.) (Scene: Train) (Daylight begins to fade and rain falls lightly as a steam train cuts through the countryside. Inside the train, Gil shares a carriage with a little boy, 4, and his exceptionally pretty nursemaid, 20s. It's brightly lit in here, cosy. Gil holds a newspaper but doesn’t read it, only stares out of the window, his mind wandering. The child watches him. As if sensing this, Gil glances over. Smiles vaguely. The boy beams back. Gil pulls a face and the boy dissolves into giggles. Gil raises his newspaper before the girl notices, then, when she’s looking away, lowers it to reveal another funny face. More giggles. Gil hurriedly hides again.) Nurse: (flirtatious) It’s rare to see a man who has such a way with children. (The boy bounces, wanting Gil to play more. He complies.) Nurse: He’s a charmer, isn’t he?... Hope to have one of my own just like him one day. (Finally, Gil makes eye contact with her.) Gil: He’s not yours? Nurse: (I’m available) I’m his nursemaid. (Gil smiles, nods politely and begins to read the newspaper, oblivious to the girl’s irritation at his total lack of interest in her.) (Scene: Country Station) (It’s dark, and the rain heavier, as Gil carries the nursemaid’s case and his own onto the lonely, windswept platform. Then he lifts the boy from the train and passes him to her.) Nurse: Thank you. (The child’s face lights up as, down the platform, he spots his waiting father and mother. He wriggles from his nurse, runs to them and is happily scooped up in the man’s arms. Gil watches wistfully as they leave. Moments later, the train pulls away, the warm glow of the carriage interiors and smiling passengers within flashing past, then finally gone. ...And Gil is left entirely alone on the empty platform in the darkness and rain. Nearby, a chalk board reads: Last train for the Northeast: 9 O’Clock. Rain sluices down over the board, beginning to wash the letters away. Gil opens his pocket watch and looks at the time in dismay before closing it again and sitting down on the solitary bench here, drawing his coat around him and holding his newspaper ineffectually over his head. He opens his pocket watch again, but this time to look not at the watch face, but at the portrait. The chalk board is bare now, just empty blackness, slick with rain. In the distance, we hear an approaching train. Gil is drenched, his now sodden - nearly disintegrated - newspaper discarded by his side. Momentarily, the train arrives with a piercing whistle, filling the damp air with a cloud of steam. This train is considerably shorter than the Bubbletucky train, squat and plain. Inside, the carriages are unlit. It’s not just unwelcoming, it’s almost foreboding. Gil moves through the steam and opens the door to a darkened carriage with a mixture of relief and trepidation.) (Scene: Countryside) (The grim little train moves through an endless stretch of deserted countryside. No houses, no lights, not a living soul for miles around. We’re in the middle of nowhere.) (Scene: Unwelcoming Train) (Alone in a carriage, Gil sleeps as the train rattles on. The train whistle shrieks, continuing for just a little too long... and we realise that the sound has mutated into something that sounds very much like a woman’s scream.) (Scene: Upper Hall) (The woman’s piercing scream continues. A younger Gil paces anxiously, listens at a closed door, paces again. The screaming ceases and Gil rushes to the door, listening nervously. Silence. Then the cry of a baby. Gil breaks into a broad grin. As this new cry dies down we hear movement and low voices from within. Finally the door is opened by a doctor, 30s. Dr. Clark: Mr. Gordon... Gil: Is it...? May I...? (barging past) Molly? Dr. Clark: Mr. Gordon. (Scene: Bedroom) (Gil's attention is instantly stolen by the sight of Sandy standing by the door, holding a swaddled baby.) Sandy: It's a boy. (Gil reaches out instinctively, too enraptured to notice her odd expression and tone. Gently, she hands it to him. The baby stares at Gil, and Gil stares back in awe.) Gil: Hello little one! Hello... Nonny. You definitely are a Nonny, aren't you?... Don't you think, Molly? (In the bed beyond, Gil's wife Molly, 20, is propped against a pillow, her head bowed, long strawberry pink hair hanging loose and damp with sweat. She doesn't respond. Gil looks to the sombre-faced doctor, to Sandy, and then back to the bed again. He reacts in queasy horror and now we see what else he has seen, what he failed to see before: The bottom half of the sheet is drenched in blood.) Dr. Clark: I'm so sorry, Mr. Gordon. (Gil clutches the baby close as the doctor leans Molly back, revealing her lifeless face, and draws the sheet up. Over this image we hear another piercing shriek...) (Scene: Unwelcoming Train) (The train whistle wakes Gil from his nightmare. He wipes the film of sweat from his forehead, shakes himself properly awake and looks around to register that the train is stationary, stopped at another station. As it begins to move again, the door to Gil’s carriage opens and an old lobster man enters: Mr. Langoustine, 58, ostentatiously well-dressed. Accompanying him is his little dog, Bubble Puppy.) Gil: Good evening. (Mr. Langoustine nods back at him, and for a while they ride on in silence as, outside, the rain lashes the train windows.) Gil: Headed for Crythin Gifford? Mr. Langoustine: Be in trouble if I weren’t. It’s the last stop on the line tonight. Gil: (extending his hand) Gil Gordon. Mr. Langoustine: Mr. Langoustine. (Gil pets the dog.) Gil: Hello, boy. Mr. Langoustine: His name's Bubble Puppy. Gil: I see. (Gil stares out of the window. Silence now - just the rain lashing against the glass and the occasional shriek of the whistle. Gil sighs, happier not talking, but knowing he should take the opportunity to learn what he can.) Gil: Lived in Crythin Giford long? Mr. Langoustine: All my life. For my sins. Gil: Then I wonder if you might be able to tell me anything about Eel Marsh house? I’m the solicitor charged with handling the estate of the late Mrs Snail. Mr. Langoustine: Died, did she? And you’re instructed to dispose of the place, I suppose. Well... property is my trade, and I’ll tell you this much for nowt: You’ll not find a local buyer. Gil: Really? Why's that? Mr. Langoustine: (shrugging) None wanted it before, so why would things change now? (Gil smiles thinly, disappointed.) Gil: For a moment there, Mr. Langoustine, I thought you were going to be the answer to my prayers. Mr. Langoustine: If you’re looking for that, try the fella upstairs. Gil: Oh I’ve tried. Believe me. (Something in Mr. Langoustine's face softens. Silence. And then:) Mr. Langoustine: Staying at the Gifford Arms? (Gil nods.) Mr. Langoustine: Then allow me to take you there on my way home. Crythin Gifford’s not the kind of place you’ll find a cab. (Scene: Gifford Arms) (Mr. Langoustine's impressive automobile pulls up outside the Gifford Arms, the inn we saw earlier. Gil climbs out, wrestling with his suitcase. Mr. Langoustine hands him a business card and shouts to be heard over the rain.) Mr. Langoustine: Why don’t you join my wife and I for some supper tomorrow evening, Mr. Gordon. Seven O’Clock, if that suits? We don’t get many new faces round this way, we’d welcome the company. (Gil opens his mouth to protest, but it’s too late - Mr. Langoustine has slammed the car door closed. He pulls away.) (Scene: Entrance Hall) (The inn-keeper, Mr. Gentilella, late 30s, is waiting at the door. He watches Mr. Langoustine drive off.) Mr. Gentilella: Friend of yours? Gil: We just met. Mr. Gentilella: Well, I hope he hasn’t given you the wrong impression of Crythin Gifford, Mr...? Gil: Gordon. Gil Gordon. I'd like a room please? (Mr. Gentilella opens a ledger and runs his finger down a page, his non-response leaving an awkward silence which Gil, now a little irritated, tries to fill.) Gil: On the contrary, Mr. Langoustine was most hospitable. Mr. Gentilella: First automobile in Crythin Gifford. And the last, if the locals have any say in the matter. (closing the ledger) I’m sorry, Mr. Gordon, it seems we’re packed to the rafters. (Gil looks at him, puzzled. We hear muted conversation from the bar, three or four people at most.) Gil: But... my offices telegraphed ahead and we were assured - (The inn-keepers wife - Mrs. Shaskan, mid 30s - enters.) Mrs. Shaskan: Evening, sir! Mr. Gentilella: I was just telling this gentleman that unfortunately we have no room at all. (She looks confused, then gestures to the bar with a weary, resigned look.) Mrs. Shaskan: Those loafers too soused to walk home again? (to Gil) Well we can’t have you out on the streets now, can we?(to Mr Gentilella) What about the attic room? Mr. Gentilella: We can give you something for the night. But you’ll have to leave in the morning. That’s booked too. For the rest of the week. (Mrs. Shaskan, now utterly bemused, looks at her husband.) (Scene: Upper Hall) (Gil follows Mrs. Shaskan down the narrow hall.) Mrs. Shaskan: I’m sure we can find something for tomorrow, if you need. Long journey ahead of you, is it? Gil: Oh no, I’m not... I’d planned to remain here until Friday at least. And I was hoping to find a second room for the weekend. My son and his nanny are travelling up to join me. Mrs. Shaskan: I see... That’s... People pass through on their way up North,usually... If a holiday’s what you’re after, sir, you’d honestly be better off further inland. (At the end of the hall is a birdcage, a shawl thrown overit for the night. Gil stops beside it. We may notice, although Gil doesn’t, that there is a photograph on the wall here: Mr. Gentilella and Mrs. Shaskan with their daughters, Oona, Ashlie, and Jimberly, the girls from the ill-fated tea party.) Gil: What kind of bird do you have? Mrs. Shaskan: Mynah bird. Hope you don’t mind it. Lot of folk find them unsettling. The mimicry and all. Gil: No, no. I like them well enough. My wife had one. Mrs. Shaskan: What happened to it? Gil: Nothing. (Mrs. Shaskan realises what he means. She looks away.) Gil: They're a fine bid. Mrs. Shaskan: That they are. Nice to have someone to talk to. (Now it's Gil's turn to read the upspoken, feel awkward. But in the silence, there's a moment of connection.) Mrs. Shaskan: It's this way. (Gil follows her up a tiny, narrow staircase towards a tiny landing, a single door.) Mrs. Shaskan: How old is your son? Gil: Six. (Mrs. Shaskan: fumbles with a large bunch of keys; struggles to unlock the door and to fight a wave of emotion.) Mrs. Shaskan: Lovely age. (a beat) I’m afraid this room doesn’t get used very often. It’ll do for the night though, eh? (Scene: Hotel Bedroom) (In his pyjamas, Gil sits on a bed - there are three in here - and surveys the room. It’s undoubtedly the one we saw Oona, Ashlie, and Jimberly in at the beginning, but many years have since passed. It’s bare now, the curtains faded and tattered, the small bedsteads rusted, paint peeling from the walls. In the corner is a pile of items covered by dusty sheets. Gil opens his case and gets out Nonny's calendar and his hip flask. He takes a long drink while staring at the calendar. He takes a pen from his pocket and draws a mark through the box marked “Tuesday.” Then he rolls up the calendar and tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat, which is hanging over the back of a nearby chair. He climbs into bed and reaches out to extinguish the bedside oil lamp. Before he does, his fingertips come to rest briefly on the fob watch, which lies beside it.) Gil: Goodnight. (Finally, he turns out the light. Gil's eyes close, then open again. In the darkness, the white sheets covering the pile of hidden items are still visible. Intriguing, unsettling. Curiosity piqued, Gil turns the light on again, gets up and pulls off a sheet... to be greeted by an alarming old rocking horse, the paint peeling unpleasantly from its grimacing face. Beside it is a box of long-neglected dolls and toys. Looking again at the disturbing face of the rocking-horse, Gil throws the sheet back over it and returns to bed.) (Scene: Grouper's Offices) (Gil stands outside a small office on a winding country lane. The sign above the door reads: “GROUPER & SON”. And underneath in smaller letters: “Solicitors.” Gil checks a piece of paper in his hand, then checks his watch before trying the door, for what we assume is not the first time. It's locked. There’s nobody here. He looks up and down the street. It’s mainly residential, apart from a small post office next door, and deserted, aside from some children in a front garden across the road. They are Deema Wahler, 7 and her brothers Jonesy, 8, and Joshua, 5. They stare curiously at Gil through the gaps in their picket fence. Behind them, their father Mr. Imani, 30s, stares equally curiously through a front window. Gil smiles at the children. They don’t smile back. Seconds later, Mr. Imani emerges from indoors, fixing Gil with a suspicious look. He shouts across the road.) Mr. Imani: Yes? Can I help you? Gil: Do you happen to know where I might find Mr. Grouper? (Mr. Imani shrugs and shakes his head before protectively pulling his children away from the fence. Gil goes to call after him, but is distracted by a sound from the stairwell leading down to the cellar below Mr. Grouper’s office. He looks down to see: Mrs. Grouper, 30s, emerging from the cellar, looking anxious.) Mrs. Grouper: Mr. Gordon? Gil: Yes? (Mrs. Grouper locks and bolts the cellar door behind her and begins to ascend the stairs.) Mrs. Grouper: My husband was just on his way to see you at the Gifford Arms. (She lets herself into the door leading to her home above the office, and closes it behind her, leaving Gil alone. Gil pauses to absorb this abrupt exchange before walking away. He glances back over his shoulder at the cellar door. Something about it makes him feel uneasy.) (Scene: Entrance Hall) (Mr. Gentilella is deep in conversation with a man in his early 40s. He is, in fact, Mr. Grouper. Mrs. Shaskan stands nearby listening, a sad, distant look on her face. The conversation dies abruptly the moment Gil arrives, as Mr. Gentilella appears to point him out.) Mr. Grouper: Mr. Gordon. Gil: Mr. Grouper? I just came from your office. We must have walked directly past one another. Mr. Grouper: I made it clear to your firm that there was no need for you to make the journey. (Waving away what he takes to be an apology.) Gil: Please, it’s of no concern. It was only a few minutes walk. Mr. Grouper: The journey to Crythin Gifford, Mr. Gordon. No need at all. We could have sent all the relevant documents to Bubbletucky. (Gil is lost for words as Mr. Grouper thrusts a file at him.) Mr. Grouper: In any event, you’ll find everything you need in here. Mr. Gentilella tells me you’re leaving today. Gil: No, I need to - (to Mr. Gentilella) Your wife said - (He looks to Mrs. Shaskan, who avoids his gaze, awkward.) Mr. Gentilella: I’m afraid she was mistaken, Mr. Gordon. It’s market day tomorrow. We’re entirely full. Gil: This is... I’m going to have to contact my employers. Do you have a telephone? (Mr. Gentilella and Mr. Grouper look at Gil incredulously.) Mr. Gentilella: Not even your friend Mr. Langoustine has a telephone, sir. You’ll not find one in Crythin Gifford. Gil: Then I’ll send a telegram. Which way is the post office? Mr. Grouper: You’ll find it directly next door to my own premises. (Gil turns to leave. Mr. Grouper falls into step beside him.) Mr. Grouper: ...But it’s closed on a Wednesday morning. (a beat) The Bubbletucky train leaves in half an hour. My colleague Sir Mulligan is waiting outside with your luggage. (At the entrance, Mr. Grouper opens the door for Gil and politely gestures for him to go first. Gil steps out.) Mr. Grouper: Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gordon. (And with that, Mr. Grouper closes the door on him.) End of Part 1.