Thank you.
How long is it since
you've seen your friend?
Ten years. Before she
became a huge success.
Oh, here she is!
Oh, my goodness, Isobel!
Harriet!
BOTH: Oh!
My husband David.
Isobel, my dear friend.
How do you do? Very well.
This is our wonderful
priest, Father Brown.
How nice to meet you both.
And how very exciting to have a
food fayre here in Kembleford.
Isobel will tell you how
much I've been inspired
by my darling
Kembleford to cook. Oh.
Izzy, do you remember
the parsnip soup party?
Oh, that was so funny!
I don't think Mother's kitchen
was ever the same again.
So I thought,
"This is the place.
"This is the place to
introduce people to food
"from all around the world."
And to sell some books.
David is also...
Yes, my publisher.
Stroke of luck. Harriet
also runs a cookery school.
Can you imagine the response
from these dear, dear people
when they taste chicken tikka,
Szechwan prawns, vegetable masala?
Well, I know none of those dishes,
but my stomach is already rumbling.
And, Izzy, tomorrow you must
be my administrative sous-chef.
Oh, no, I'm not sure...
I've named it Kemblefood.
SHE LAUGHS What do you
think? Oh, ha. Yes!
Oh, it reminds me when we organised
the school dance together.
Oh, yes, you must
have one of these.
Incidentally, there's a very
important hotelier coming
on the final night dinner
to hopefully give me the nod
to do this nationally.
No pressure.
Right,
off we go.
Chop chop.
How exciting -
culinary adventures
in Kembleford.
It smells really good.
Shuzha what prawns?
Szechwan prawns, I believe.
Shall we? Hmm.
Oh, you look stressed, Mrs D.
I was only supposed
to be helping.
Are you all right, Chef Faridi?
Is your sous-chef here yet?
No, he is ill. Oh, my goodness.
It will be fine. I will
just have to manage.
APPLAUSE Oh!
Thank you very much. Everyone,
may I introduce Lei Yen,
head chef of Five Spice Province,
one of London's best Chinese
restaurants, and Rafi Faridi,
owner of The Cinnamon Ruby -
one of the best Indian
restaurants in Birmingham?
APPLAUSE Chef
Faridi, Father Brown.
Welcome to Kembleford.
Good luck.
I can't wait to
taste chicken tikka.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Chef Yen's cooking demonstration
will begin in five minutes.
Chef Yen. Father Brown.
Welcome to Kembleford
and good luck.
I'm excited to try
Szechwan prawns -
if that's the correct
pronunciation?
You should have heard me try to
pronounce Worcestershire sauce
for the first time.
Harriet, this is Chief
Inspector Edgar Sullivan.
How do you do? Oh, hello! Yes.
I was beginning to wonder
if you even existed.
Would you mind popping
those over there for me?
What are you making?
I am making samosas and pakoras.
Beautifully spiced - all
the way from Birmingham.
The spices and the
love are from Bihar.
Ooh! I like ordinary
food, really.
It's just cos I haven't had much
chance to try all this stuff.
Ah, well, then, perhaps you
can do a small favour for me.
Er...
Can I help, Mrs Devine?
You could hide me.
Harriet's just told me that this
special guest at the dinner tomorrow
is Hugo Pearl-Blythe.
From the Pearl-Blythe
Hotel in Mayfair.
I've got to organise it with
Harriet breathing down my neck,
and you know me with organisation.
We're all here and ready to help.
Thank you, Father.
This just reminds me of the
school dance she mentioned.
She delegated everything to
me and took all the credit.
That's a very
interesting saucepan.
It's a wok. The narrow base
helps cook food very quickly.
Oh. Impressive.
As is your running
your own restaurant.
It belonged to my father.
I took over two years
ago, when he d*ed.
What's a man got to do to get
a decent meal around here?
I had no idea. How nice!
Everyone who doesn't know -
Chester Gates, restaurant critic,
renowned food writer.
Charmed! I must say, Harriet, you've
pulled a marvellous thing together.
Though I suppose since the cookery
school closed, you must have
more time on your hands. Closed?
My decision - to concentrate
on my recipe books, Izzy.
They're flying off the
shelves. Ah. Congratulations.
I'm very much looking forward to
the Chinese cooking demonstration.
Szechwan prawns and chop
suey. How very... safe.
Though interesting
to a new audience.
Oh, Chester, the cooking
demonstrations are sold out.
I was sent tickets
for all events,
including the celebration dinner,
by some... mysterious benefactor.
Really? Well, yes.
How else would I be expected to
know about such a backwater event?
Father, come and try this dhal.
Dhal tarka -
lentils with garlic.
Oh, my goodness!
Chef Faridi, that is delicious.
Thank you, Father.
Brenda here kindly agreed
to be my stand-in
sous-chef. Oh, yeah.
I'm just stirring
things, basically.
Rafi, that aroma must be dhal.
It is indeed, Mr Gates.
Welcome.
You are clearly an aficionado.
You could say that.
My father, who passed
away last month,
he worked for the British
Governor in Bihar in India.
He enthused about Bihari cuisine
and when Rafi set up in
Birmingham, I simply had to try it.
I was rather a champion
of his cooking.
We were going to open a
restaurant a couple of years back.
Never came off. Unfortunately.
What a shame.
It's, er, very disappointing.
What would be most
disappointing, of course,
is you not making your chingri
malai for dinner tomorrow.
It's not on the menu.
Oh, come on, now.
I've mentioned it to Hugo.
It's incredible, Father.
A local who worked in the
kitchens at the mansion in Patna,
he made it once
and my father insisted he
have it every day for a month.
What a recommendation.
Unfortunately, I do not
have the ingredients.
Right.
You never were one to be influenced
by the opinions of others.
But perhaps your
arm can be twisted.
It is all about the timing.
I waited for the prawns to
colour in ginger and garlic.
The sauce is tomato
puree, chilli bean sauce,
black vinegar,
sugar, sesame oil.
Add salt and white pepper,
stirring all the time
over a high heat.
Done.
Serve...
..with fresh garnish.
Szechwan prawns, beef chop suey.
Wonderful!
Do try some.
Hmm.
The sauce could be richer.
Perhaps a little more garlic.
The prawns, though,
are perfectly adequate.
Some chefs spend a lifetime
waiting for an "adequate" from you.
Oh, dear. Clearly as
thin-skinned as your father.
All grist to the memoir mill -
Chester Gates: A Critic's Life
In Food will soon be delivered
to the British gourmand press,
with all the, er,
tasty morsels left in.
All the revelations,
sins, disappointments.
If Lei has another run-in
with Chester, she could leave,
which would be a disaster.
You have to baby-sit
him tomorrow, Izzy.
You have to steer him away
from any trouble. You...
..are a life-saver.
If you had been honest with me, I
wouldn't have gone to the expense.
I didn't have an
opportunity to tell you.
It's business, dear
boy! HE CHUCKLES
Chester's gone to
proof-read his memoirs.
Hopefully, we're spared
any more drama. Ha.
I am surprised that the world of
cookery is so full of controversy.
Anywhere there's
an ego at stake.
Though Chester is
particularly vicious.
The review he gave Chef
Yen's poor father...
Let's hope he doesn't have the
same thing in mind for Kemblefood.
CHURCH BELL RINGS
Excuse me, Father,
I may have some
feathers to unruffle.
Oh!
Oh.
Are you coping, Mrs Devine?
Well, I could have done without
being tasked with chaperoning
Chester Gates tomorrow. Indeed.
I am on hand to offer
any assistance I can.
Thank you, Father.
It's only been one day
and I'm already exhausted.
Surely it will get easier.
I'm sure it will.
I'm sure we agreed
on eight o'clock.
He's nearly half-an-hour late.
Perhaps we should go and knock.
Hmm.
I'm very grateful for your
help, Father. My pleasure.
An interesting man, if
slightly controversial.
Hmm.
Mr Gates!
It's Father Brown.
I'm with Mrs Devine.
Oh, my goodness.
That looks like rat poison.
CAR ENGINE STARTS UP OUTSIDE
I understand that Mr Gates ordered
the cheese sandwich for his supper,
which is odd for a man who
so enjoyed fine dining.
It seems that someone added
the poison in the kitchen.
Indeed.
Or distracted him
and added it here.
We can't rule out a visitor.
The famous memoir. Possibly
a clue to the motive.
If the content of the
memoir was the motive,
it's odd that it's
been left behind.
A list of chapter headings.
Cakes, Quiches And Porky
Pies. A Spicy History.
Death In Chinatown.
The tickets. Mr Gates mentioned
being sent those tickets
to the fayre anonymously.
Could that be important?
And the pen used to write the
address had a damaged nib -
it's left an un-inked
line on every character.
CAR SETS OFF OUTSIDE
Yes. Thank you, Father
and Mrs Devine.
Right, sir, the landlady says
their rat poison is missing from
the kitchen. She thought she might
have heard a female voice last night
when she knocked with the
sandwich just after ten.
Mr Gates only opened
the door a fraction.
She thought he might
be hiding something.
No female visitors
after hours, you see.
Surely she would have
seen any visitors though.
Not if they were
already a guest here.
I'm sorry, Rafi. You'd known
him for a long time, hadn't you?
If there's anything I can do
to help. Thank you, Father.
Rafi, so sorry to burden you,
but Chester mentioned this
incredible dish of yours
to Hugo and he'd very
much like to try it.
I don't suppose you could
make it for us, could you?
I, er...
I, er, will do that.
Of course. For Chester.
Izzy, you can make the changes to
the menus for the dinner, can't you?
KNOCK AT DOOR
What have you got for me, Sergeant?
We could be onto something, sir.
This chapter is missing
from the manuscript.
Is it, indeed?
Oh, you're so skilful.
I learnt everything
from my father.
He must have been
very proud of you.
Miss Yen, could I
have a word, please?
Er, yes.
It's in relation
to Chester Gates.
A woman's voice was heard in
Mr Gates' room before he d*ed.
Was that you, Miss Yen?
Yes. It was.
I wanted to talk to
him about his book.
I see.
There's a chapter missing from
Mr Gates' memoir with the title
Death In China Town.
So? We believe that
to be of significance.
Lei Yen, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of m*rder.
Surely not.
You are not obliged
to say anything,
but anything you do say
may be given in evidence.
Sergeant.
But I didn't do it!
This way, please, Miss.
What's going on?!
I would like to talk
about Miss Yen's arrest.
That's fine, Father, but just so
you know, Miss Yen's fingerprints
have now been identified
in Mr Gates' room.
She also had access to the rat
poison in the guest-house kitchen.
So did many other people.
You can't argue
with the motive -
her father d*ed of a heart
att*ck less than a week after
Mr Gates' review
of the restaurant.
It's fair to say she
would blame him for that.
Well, yes, perhaps.
And who besides Miss Yen
would have reason to remove
a chapter from Mr Gates' memoir?
It was clearly about her father.
Thank you for dropping in.
I should like to speak to her.
Of course you would, Father.
What happened last night?
I saw Chester in the
corridor and demanded to know
if he'd written about my father.
To avoid a scene, he
invited me to his room.
Did he give you any details
of what he'd written?
He said it was only what was
already public knowledge -
the meal he ate, the
terrible review he wrote.
I see.
I know the chapter is missing,
but I didn't take it, Father.
Someone else is trying to
make me look guilty. I swear.
Did you see anyone
else last night?
No.
Although, when I met
Chester in the corridor,
he was leaving something
outside Rafi's room.
Did you see what it was?
A pot of some kind.
I was surprised, given their
failed business venture.
What happened between them?
Rafi suddenly changed his mind.
I don't know why.
Father, my family rely on me.
Whatever my feelings
about Chester,
I would never put their
welfare in jeopardy.
Please!
Believe me.
I will do whatever I
can to help, Miss Yen.
Er, cumin. Cumin. Very good.
And this? Cardamom.
Yes, Brenda! Very good.
And this? TOO-meric.
TUR-meric. Very good.
Everyone forgets that
there is an R at the start.
You know, these smells, they always
remind me of my mother's cooking.
It feels like such
a long time ago.
It takes guts to start
again far from home.
Miss Palmer, Chef Faridi.
I've just spoken to Chef Yen.
She says she saw Mr Gates
leaving a gift for you.
Bihari masala powder.
Clearly, Chester wasn't
going to take no as an answer
about his favourite curry.
Or perhaps he meant it to
show he had no hard feelings.
May I asked why the
restaurant plan fell through?
Of course.
I had discovered who Chester's
father had worked for.
The Governor of Bihar? Yes.
Mr Gates-Ellis worked for
the Governor at the time -
the man who could have stopped
the riots and the m*ssacre.
m*ssacre?
Nine years ago.
I am a Hindu, Father,
and we have lived with Muslims
side-by-side for many years.
But in Bengal, there was
fighting between the two faiths
and the Muslims
att*cked the Hindus.
The British could have stopped it
very quickly, but they delayed.
And thousands of people
lost their lives.
I could not, in all conscience,
go into business with
someone connected to it.
I see. After that,
Chester cut off all ties.
Until yesterday, I had not
seen him for two years.
Thank you, darling.
No, no.
Er, no, this doesn't
seem to be, um...
No, your pen's not working.
Thank you!
There we are.
Thank you so much.
How am I supposed to
organise a celebratory dinner
with the key chef in custody?
I'll just have to find
a replacement, won't I?
In Kembleford? Even if someone
has to come down from London,
these things do
work themselves out.
I don't think you realise quite
how much we've put into this.
It doesn't matter to you if it
fails, but this is my reputation.
Welcome! Do try the lemon tart.
The recipe is in my new book.
Have a look through.
Father, Harriet just tried to sign
an autograph with David's pen.
Doesn't this remind you of the
envelope addressed to Mr Gates?
Well spotted, Mrs Devine.
Oh, gosh, that's the delivery.
That doesn't look like 30 chairs.
Oh, dear. Um...
Excuse me.
Mr Sykes! Oh, hello, Father.
Sorry. Rather distracted trying
to find a replacement chef
with no notice at all.
Oh, how stressful.
Would you have Chester
Gates' details in there?
I believe it was
your fountain pen
used to address his
invitation to the food fayre.
I did send it.
Why anonymously?
Harriet hated the man.
I didn't want it to get back to
her that I was chasing Chester
so he'd allow me to
publish his memoirs.
I thought that once I
revealed his free tickets
and accommodation were on
me, it would seal the deal.
So when he announced he was
publishing with another press...?
I was devastated. Mine
is a small publishers.
It would have been
something of a coup.
I'm rather against
the wall, Father.
And with the sales of
Harriet's books declining,
it's all been rather dire.
I wonder if it will be better,
in the long run, for you to tell
Mrs Sykes what you've told me.
The story gets worse,
I'm afraid, Father.
Harriet's book sales can't be
as terrible as he suggests.
She closed the cookery school
to capitalise on her writing.
According to Mr Sykes, the
cookery school had to close -
it was a failed business.
Oh, dear. HARRIET:
You invited him?!
You realise one bad review
from him about the fayre
and we would have been sunk? I
thought it was worth the risk.
Harriet!
Oh, dear, indeed.
It seems I am the last to know about
my husband's ridiculous decisions.
Harriet, I wish you'd told me.
What was there to say? No-one
wants traditional cookery any more.
I've failed at every turn.
Were you concerned that Mr Gates
might include this in his memoir?
Wouldn't you be, Father?
But then when I bumped into
him briefly at the guest house,
he assured me he'd just been getting
a rise out of me. A bit of sport.
My business dealings were
apparently too dull to be included.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have
a multitude of pies that need
preparing. BELL STRIKES
It seems my husband and I have sunk
our every last penny into this fayre
and it has to be a success.
Harriet, I'm so
sorry. Don't be.
At least we don't have
to worry about Chester
giving us a bad review now. Ha.
Sorry. That was callous.
But look what he did
to Lei's poor father.
If she did do it, then
I wouldn't be surprised.
Particularly after the
rumours I heard in London.
I want to ask you
about Mr Gates.
At the fayre, when I suggested that
your father must be proud of you,
you didn't answer.
You were comfortable
enough with Mr Gates
to be alone in
his room with him.
Miss Yen, I have to ask you -
were you more than acquaintances?
We met when he was looking at
restaurant sites in London.
He was the most charming man
and I fell for him.
And your father found out?
Chester was older, divorced
twice, not Chinese.
He made me end it.
And that provoked Chester
to write his review, but...
..I believe it was my
father's disappointment in me
which caused his heart att*ck.
That is a hard burden
to carry on your own.
Do the rest of your family know?
They would only have found
out from Chester's book.
Then it is ironic that the
m*rder*r may have helped you
rather than framed you.
Um, Miss Yen, excuse me.
HE KNOCKS AT DOOR
There's nothing missing
that doesn't tally up
with the chapter
headings, Father.
What are you actually
looking for, exactly?
Just one moment,
please, Sergeant.
It's just the Chief Inspector's
due back at any time
and he might not be quite
so understanding. Indeed.
Oh, the Spicy History chapter.
He liked a bit of scandal,
didn't he, our Mr Gates?
And there was that pastry chef
who pretended he'd
invented that pudding.
And then there was that young cook
who's in A Spicy History... Vish.
Hmm. Yes.
Mr Gates did indeed
seem drawn to scandal.
No page numbers.
Of course.
Welcome, thank you so much.
In you go.
This is a disaster.
Where on earth is David?
Thank you. Oh, there he
is. Oh! Thank goodness.
Thank goodness! So kind of you
to come at such short notice
and just in the nick of time!
Kitchen.
Oh, yes,
we're on track.
On your own? I'm all right.
Rafi's just grabbing the prawns.
Very good.
You wouldn't happen to know
where Chef Faridi put the spices
left for him by Mr
Gates, would you?
It's odd.
Chef Yen described
this as a pot.
Vish.
Harriet Sykes,
Hugo Pearl-Blythe.
Mr Pearl-Blythe, how wonderful.
Pleased to meet you.
Mayfair is stifling. Turns out
the countryside is stifling, too.
Is there any chance I could
be offered some refreshment?
Oh, er, yes, of course.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I
introduce Mr Hugo Pearl-Blythe
of the Pearl-Blythe
Hotel in Mayfair,
come to advise on turning our little
venture into an annual road show?
We will shortly be bringing out
traditional Chinese hors d'oeuvres,
an Indian curry main course,
and a fantastique French tarte
tatin made by yours truly!
Izzy can you get a drink for
Mr Pearl-Blythe? He's parched.
Please. I remain
unconvinced by coriander.
Is it supposed to
taste like soap?
I hear that from some people.
I'm just going to see how long
we've got before they need curry.
Um, keep checking the
rice, will you, Father?
She's a very good sous-chef.
I've just been speaking
with Miss Yen -
in her cell.
I gather you've known
each other for a while.
Um, yes, we have.
How is she?
In good spirits, mostly.
She was telling me about her
relationship with Mr Gates.
I imagine, given the timing,
you were witness to the distress
caused by the end
of the relationship.
That is perhaps why you
decided to remove the chapter
about her from Mr Gates' memoir.
I have no idea what you're
speaking of, Father.
As well as part of the chapter
he wrote about you, of course.
"Rafi told me he could not work
with the son of the man who had
"allowed the
massacres to happen.
"We never spoke again.
I always wondered
"if that was the real reason..."
The last sentence ends
with three full stops -
an ellipsis suggesting
there was more to follow.
The revelation of
a secret, perhaps.
Where are these hors d'oeuvres?
Nearly ready to go. Calm down.
Has somebody checked on my
tarte tatin? I'm sorry, Father.
Chef Faridi? Rafi!
Well, where's he going? We
will be back as soon as we can.
I found the pot that
Mr Gates left for you.
It has "Vish"
written on the side.
The young man in the kitchen
at the Governor's residence -
I believe that was
you, Mr Faridi.
My mother gave me that pot.
She taught me everything.
She meant a lot to you.
She d*ed...
..I changed. I became so bitter.
So full of anger.
And then there were the riots.
You became involved in them?
I was in the middle
of terrible things.
Terrible things, Father.
And I wanted to stop.
But in the noise
and the anger...
..it couldn't be stopped.
I have blood on my hands.
I'll obviously be working to
reduce the time between courses.
We... We just had a few
issues in the kitchen today.
There are people in the kitchen?
During the w*r, the warehouse
holding most of our fresh produce
delivery was bombed -
the day we hosted an
impromptu wedding breakfast.
Three of us served five
courses to 26 people.
So...
I know this is stressful for
you. Just try to stay calm.
Rafi is missing! They have
been waiting ten minutes
for their main course.
What am I going to do, Izzy?
Hugo's going to write
me off as a charlatan
who can't organise a picnic.
It's my last hope.
MRS DEVINE SIGHS
And I escaped to England to
avoid being arrested - penniless.
And I built myself a life
my mother would be proud of.
A food critic -
an important man -
wanted to go into
business with me.
It must have been a shock to
realise that Chester Gates
was in fact Chester
Gates-Ellis - the son
of your former
employer in Patna.
Yes.
And when Chester's
father d*ed recently,
he found memorabilia
from his time in Bihar,
including the spice pot that you
must have had to leave behind.
And a photograph of all
the kitchen staff that
worked in the
Governor's mansion.
His father had already told
him about a chingri malai chef
who fled Patna to
avoid being arrested.
Chester made the connection.
And you realised all this
when he came to your stall?
And he told me about his memoir.
Leaving the spice pot outside
my room was his final warning
to get me ready for
everything to be revealed.
So you took drastic action?
I went for a walk
to clear my head.
And when I came back,
I was angry, still.
And I saw that sandwich
that he'd requested.
"10pm sharp".
And then I saw the tin of
rat poison on the shelf.
I still had doubts.
I saw the landlady
deliver the sandwich
and Miss Yen leave
his room upset.
And I knocked and I begged him
to keep my secret,
but he refused.
Would your father want you to
do this? Oh, a low blow, Rafi.
You are going to ruin
everything for me.
And my community will disown me.
I am not that same person.
Sadly, it's just too
good a story to omit.
Column inches sell
books, after all.
And when he was dead, you
then read the manuscript.
I realised I could remove
what I needed to remove
and also help Miss Yen.
But now I know that I
made her look guilty
and I am so sorry for that.
You must know that there
are others you should tell.
Is there anything you can
do to help me, Father?
I can pray for you.
I want to run again.
You cannot keep running forever.
I understand, in your faith,
that you believe in dharma -
the duties you must follow in order
to prevent chaos in the universe.
Is not going to the
police and telling them
what you have done and asking for
forgiveness one of those duties
for a man of principle like you?
Ah, there you are!
What's going on? Harriet's
going to keel over.
Brenda, it's been an honour
to work alongside with you.
Thank you so much
for your kindness.
Rafi?
Would you be so kind as to get
Chief Inspector Sullivan for me?
Mr Faridi, you wanted to see me?
Yes, Chief Inspector.
I'd like to confess to the
m*rder of Chester Gates.
In view of your
confession, Mr Faridi,
I am arresting you for the m*rder
of Chester Gates. No, no, no!
You're not obliged to say...
No, no! What are you doing?
Who's going to cook the curry?
Sergeant. Follow me, sir.
I'm sorry, Mrs
Sykes, I truly am.
But what about the dinner?!
There are more important
considerations here, Harriet.
Can't you see that?
Oh, I don't think you understand
the importance of the situation.
Some of us have reputations.
The future of my
business is on the line!
What do you think
we're all doing here?
Father Brown and Brenda have worked
tirelessly to support the fayre.
David fetched a new chef
at a moment's notice -
not a word of thanks.
And I've been defending
your reputation,
even though you've shared
none of your worries with me,
as your oldest friend -
instead treating me like a member
of staff since you got here.
This is like the school dance.
It's not all about you, Harriet!
Mrs Sykes, Mrs Devine,
forgive my interruption.
I do believe that most of the
preparation for Chef Faridi's
curry has already been done.
And he was a very good teacher.
Perhaps we can ask Miss
Palmer to instruct Mrs Sykes
how to make chingri malai,
and we will all help.
I'd like that.
Yes, yes. Well,
let's make a start.
They finished their hors
d'oeuvres 15 minutes ago
and someone's got to
stop Hugo from leaving!
I'll do my best.
Thank you.
Right, you have to fry
those in the mustard oil
and I am going to get
started on the coconut milk.
You know what you're doing?
Well, let's find out.
Yes, it's very ingenious.
The narrow base allows food to be
cooked at a much higher temperature,
thus vegetables retain
their crispness.
Is that so?
Couldn't nip into the kitchen
and explain how food is cooked
to Mrs Sykes, could you?
Fear not, Mr Pearl-Blythe, your
next course is moments away.
I do hope so, Father.
But your stalling tactics are
good for another two minutes
and then I will be leaving.
Ooh! That looks good, Mrs Sykes.
And, um, Mr Sykes,
switch the rice over and start
spooning it onto 30 plates.
Agh! Has anyone checked
my tarte tatin?!
Oh! Oh.
Probably going to have to be smaller
portions of rice, then, Mr Sykes.
Oh!
Wine?
Water?
Right, I'm afraid... I'm sure
the food will arrive shortly.
Do let me go and
check. No, Father,
I'm too tired and too hungry
to do anyone any favours.
Mr Pearl-Blythe, I, too, relish
the prospect of a full belly.
Father... If I may,
even as we speak...
..a small band of
never-say-die valiant heroes
are in a makeshift
kitchen cooking for us.
They have overcome misfortune
and battled disaster
and they are now keen to satisfy
the taste buds of a hungry,
frustrated guest of honour.
Is that not something
for which you could find
five more minutes of patience?
Well put, Father.
Here we are! Ha-ha! Finally.
It will be worth the wait.
WOMAN: Smells delicious!
Father. Thank you.
Mr Pearl-Blythe, did you enjoy
your meal with us in Kembleford?
Ah. The timings were awful,
the marquee is rather stifling,
and, er, well, the rest has already
been discussed with Mrs Sykes.
Good evening.
Harriet, I'm so sorry.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
I've got a meeting next week.
Well done.
Brenda, you were simply amazing.
I can't thank you
enough. Hear, hear!
Thanks. It's just a shame Rafi
didn't get a chance to see it.
You know, Izzy,
you alone pulled
this event together.
Thank you so much.
Thank you.
And I want you to
know that I felt
disappointed that you didn't
feel able to confide in me
about your troubles.
But then I wondered if I
gave you the opportunity...
Well, when do we ever
say what we really feel?
Well, yes.
I always felt
overshadowed by you.
LAUGHS: I don't know why.
You were always far
more together than I.
Confident enough to
get on the stage,
the first to get
married, have a baby.
The way you coped with
widowhood and, um,
well, now your dashing
Chief Inspector.
Isobel Devine's doing just fine.
And Harriet Sykes will
follow suit quite soon.
Particularly now she's actually
speaking to her husband.
Anything can be fixed
with good communication.
I'll drink to that.
SHE GASPS Chef Lei!
Miss Yen! How
wonderful to see you.
Thank you, Father.
Sorry I couldn't be
here. How did it go?
Chaos. Wonderful chaos.
I wouldn't have missed it.
So you'll do it again
next year? Well...
Let's play it by ear. Hmm...
..yes.