Episode 1 Dickensian

BELL RINGS

Amelia.

Amelia.

The carriage is here.

BELL RINGS

Morning, Mr Marley.

Good day, Mrs Gamp.

Not for him it ain't.

Boy.

You know Mr Fagin by the dock?

Take this to him, quick as you can.

Oh.

RAUCOUS LAUGHTER

Come on, this way!

Basket, Bumble.

Keep up, Bumble!

A note, sir, from Mr Marley.

And did Mr Jacob Marley pay you for your trouble?

A farthing.

I bet you ran all the way, my dear, did you not?

Mostly.

You ran a mile and delivered a note

still as crisp and as neatly folded as the moment it was given to you,

yet only paid a farthing.

And he calls himself a gentleman.

You should have demanded a penny.

And not settled for anything less.

Mind my words, next time you're sent here,

a penny.

Insist upon it.

Yes, sir.

The house feels so empty without him.

So it shall for a while.

But it will get better.

I promise.

Honoria, good of you to come.

How could I not?

Your employers must be very understanding.

Amelia, we should spend some time with the shareholders.

Very sad day.

Thank you for coming, Mr Jaggers.

Your father was a remarkable man.

It is an honour to pay my respects to him.

I assume you've retrieved my father's will from your safe.

I have

and I await your instruction.

My instruction is for it to be read and implemented as soon as possible.

It's Christmas Eve, Arthur.

-Perhaps the new year would be more appropriate.

-We must do it today.

Shall we say five o'clock?

More punctual next week, if you please, Mr Wegg.

If I might have a word, sir.

It's just, well, I think there's been an error, sir, with my wages.

There was only 13 shillings, you see.

There is no error, Cratchit.

Your work has been slow,

not up to scratch,

not 15 shillings worth.

I still expect your loan repayment to be paid in full

and on time.

Cratchit, bring me the curiosity shop account.

I saw light and enquired at the oyster shop.

They came back last night, though the old man's granddaughter is sick.

Come on, come on.

If I'm not mistaken,

which I never am when it concerns my money in other people's pockets,

they left with their debt unpaid.

Ah, there, see? Eight shillings and tuppence.

Do collect, Jacob, before the child dies, won't you?

Before we find ourselves faced with drawn curtains

and complaints about the cost of burial.

We intend to collect while he tends to his sick granddaughter?

-And on Christmas Eve?

-What?

And all things stop because she's ill?

Hm?

Will he not eat?

Drink? Relieve himself?

Step outside for a breath of air?

Well, if all these things he can do

whilst his own flesh and blood lies sick in her bed,

well, then, why shouldn't we, who have no such attachment,

go about our business in a similar fashion?

SLURPING

Please, don't feel that you have to stay, Mrs Gamp.

No,

as I always says to them that will listen, dearie,

there's something circular in it all.

I seen little Nellie into this world

and so I am disposed to see her out again,

if it's all the same.

You shouldn't leave your door open like that, Bill. Open to thieves.

And some worse than thieves.

Some who would murder you in your bed.

What do you want, Fagin?

Nothing that will tax you, my dear.

Just a spot of cash carrying.

Our friend Mr Marley wants to see young Nancy again.

You didn't ought to send her to him.

His money is as good as anyone else's.

Meet her at The Cripples, take her there,

make sure he pays.

There's quicker ways of taking his money.

And quicker ways to get us hanged.

Eight o'clock.

Sharp.

DOOR CLOSES

Brought you a pie for your lunch. We had one left over.

-Thank you.

-Did you talk to him?

I've got a job.

Many haven't. We must be grateful.

Back to work, Cratchit.

I'd better get back.

Thanks for the pie.

KNOCK ON DOOR

BANGING ON DOOR

SHE SNORES

Your timing is questionable to say the least, Mr Marley.

The wheels of commerce continue to turn, do they not?

When the King himself died, the city barely missed a step.

I doubt the city would concern itself with such a paltry amount

as eight shillings and threepence.

If the amount is so paltry,

perhaps the collection of it

may be made with less complaint.

Or would you rather have me send a ruffian to collect?

Or a bailiff?

My granddaughter is unwell, sir.

Then pay your debt and go tend to her.

Or would you rather have me visit her myself?

And threepence.

Merry Christmas.

KNOCK ON DOOR

I'm sorry, Martha.

I got away as quick as I could.

-Have you eaten?

-Not yet, Miss Honoria.

-Right.

Off you go. Get yourself a piece of cake.

James!

You smell of rum and tobacco.

It was a very long night.

Cards?

And did Lady Fortune join you last night?

I think she believed, as I have you,

I was already overblessed with fortune.

SHE GIGGLES

Watch out! Bluebottles! Hands off your jewels!

Oh, very amusing, Nancy, my dear. Very amusing indeed.

I daresay you'll be the death of me.

The making of you, more like. What's up?

Mr Jacob Marley has requested your company again this evening.

Eight o'clock sharp.

I'll send Bill with you.

He can walk you there then wait

and bring you back, make sure you're safe.

Us who have nothing are on a long road

without a turn.

Right, well, tell Bill I'll see him in The Cripples.

The sum's allocated to charities to be overseen by the practice.

I've asked our clerk Mr Heep

to see that the payments are made as set out by your father.

He was also insistent you did not grieve formally

beyond the date of his burial.

Which now brings us to the final section

setting out your father's wishes for the remainder of the family estate,

the brewery and the house.

To the son of my second marriage, Arthur,

I hereby bequeath a 10% share in the brewery,

a holding that will provide him with a suitable income

until he finds his own way in the world.

The remainder of the brewery, the family home and the rest of my estate

I hereby bequeath to my daughter,

Amelia.

You knew about this.

No. I swear it.

I'm sorry, but these were your father's dying wishes.

I wrote it exactly as he instructed.

His dying wish was to disown me?

A share of the brewery is considerable, Arthur.

Yet she gets everything else.

So I'm somehow lower than her.

Why?

Because I'm the son of a cook.

-A cook he married.

-No.

What, then? Explain it to me.

-Then refuse to accept it.

-I must protest.

Renounce it.

I can't, Arthur.

Not if it's what father wanted.

Now please let's talk about this at home.

Didn't you hear him?

I have no home.

Barbary wouldn't come to his door.

He was there, though.

I could smell him.

Then call in the bailiff

or we'll have people thinking us soft,

without backbone or the courage of our financial convictions.

Leave him to me.

What? Are you leaving?

I have company this evening.

It's a wonder we still have a business at all

when entertaining takes precedence over commerce.

You take your pleasure in a bowl of slop and stale biscuit, Ebenezer,

I'll take mine where I choose.

Then take your pleasure, sir,

and leave those who can to tend to business.

You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ebenezer?

Then you could have it all to yourself.

You're right about that, Jacob.

There's nothing better I can think of than your departure.

I'm sure that can be arranged.

Well, if that's the way you want it, then Jaggers should settle it.

Night, Mr Scrooge.

# Holy night... #

Merry Christmas.

Humbug.

# All is calm All is bright

# Round yon virgin

# Mother and child

# Holy infant

# So tender and mild

# Sleep in heavenly peace... #

I am terribly sorry. There really is nothing more I can do.

Oh, dear.

# Sleep in heavenly peace... #

Goodbye, little Nell.

# Sleep in heavenly peace. #

SHE COUGHS

Nellie?

Oh!

My little Nellie.

Is it still snowing?

A little.

The East Indies Textile Company has ceased trading.

I went to visit Mr Tulkinghorn today.

Without my permission.

Mr Tulkinghorn was very clear.

The funds you were expecting will not arrive.

Our debts are mounting.

-We face ruin.

-Nonsense.

I'll talk to the bank.

They will hear the news themselves soon enough.

We must tell Honoria.

Tell me what?

Ah, business, my dear. Nothing for you to worry about.

-Father.

-It's Christmas,

and so we will not concern ourselves with anything else.

-How was Amelia?

-Heartbroken, of course.

It's a miracle, that's what it is.

It certainly seems so.

I feel disposed to celebrate.

I'll fetch a fresh bottle.

SHE CHUCKLES

BOTTLES SMASH

Nothing broke!

Hurry up and finish the decorations, your father'll be home soon.

-Where's Peter?

-Here!

-Will he have the goose?

-Yes, he will.

Will it be as fat as Mr Bumble?

Fatter!

And I've asked him to bring chestnuts.

Can we roast them on the fire?

I'm sure you can roast them on the fire, Tim.

Here, look!

CHEERING

-Hello!

-ALL:

-Dad!

-Let him through the door, then.

-That's quite a welcome.

-I wonder, is it for me or for the goose?

-ALL:

-You! You! You!

John, very good to see you.

Likewise, Mr Cratchit, sir.

-Did you remember the chestnuts?

-Oh.

Ah! I know better than to forget your mother's instructions.

Look at that! It's a Christmas feast fit for a king!

Or something better than a king.

-Your father. ALL:

-Yay!

CHEERING

..that society demands they be fed gloop and put to work...

Take these back up to Mr Pickwick and his guests, will you?

Quick as you like.

Perhaps Arthur is right.

I should consider renouncing father's will.

I urge you not to do anything you may come to regret.

Your father was of sound mind.

To go against the terms of his will would be to go against his wishes.

You can't let them get the upper hand.

They don't respect you.

They try and dominate you. I've said to Mrs Bumble, this will not...

Oh!

Is it that time already?

Good night, gentlemen!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Boy.

Do you know Narrow Street?

The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters tavern.

Ready?

I ordered a girl, not a girl and an ape.

Bill's just making sure I got here safe, sir.

And to take Mr Fagin his money.

Mm.

There she is.

My sweet, darling, loyal sister.

-I have no wish to argue with you in the street, Arthur.

-Why?

Don't you want people to know that you've stolen everything from me?

-Not here.

-Yes, here.

Arthur, stop it.

-Remember my place, you mean?

-No!

Please, Arthur, why are you doing this?

Because you're a spoilt little brat.

Spoilt for the want of a good beating.

Maybe it's time you had one.

-Let go of me.

-Sir!

I have no wish to fight you.

You're hardly in any state to do so if I did.

May I be of some assistance, miss?

Why don't you keep your nose out of other people's business?

No! No more. Please.

You may escort me home.

DOOR OPENS

Leave it, Bill. I'm all right.

Just get me home, please.

Bill.

You've been very kind, thank you.

I've always found the best way to protect yourself

from other people's bad manners is

by a conspicuous display of your own.

Hopefully good ones.

Allow me to at least offer you a carriage home, Mr...

Compeyson. Meriwether Compeyson.

But I'm happy to walk.

Good night...

..Miss Havisham.

Time for my Christmas Eve stroll.

The traders'll be long gone.

See if they've left any mistletoe.

RAUCOUS LAUGHTER

Good night. Merry Christmas.

Any luck?

You didn't have to hit me quite so hard.

Well, you told me to be convincing.