“And thus we solved the mystery of the sinister house called The Copper Beeches. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept solely alive by the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle’s past that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, and he now holds a government position in the island of Mauritius. Miss Hunter is now a head of a private school in Walsall, where I gather she has met with considerable success.”
Behind the Scenes of The Unicorn and the Wasp (Part Five)
Excerpts from Jason Arnopp’s article in DWM 396:
David’s favorite detective, we later learn, is Columbo. He’s shocked to hear that, when asked, none of his fellow cast members chose Peter Falk’s scruffy sleuth.
“I thought everyone would say Columbo!” he frowns. “What did they choose?”
Well, Tom Goodman-Hill (Reverend Golightly) and Leena Dhingra (Ms Chandrakala) voted for Sherlock Holmes. Felicity Jones went for Dick Tracey (”He has a good hat”), while Fenella Woolgar (Agatha Christie) understandably chose Joan Hicksons’ Miss Marple. Then there were some relatively obscure ones from novels.
“Oh,” he chuckles, “they’re just trying to prove how bloomin’ exotic they are. It’s like those people who go on Desert Island Discs and choose all classical music, when actually all they’ve got at home is a few Beverley Craven albums. And there’s nothing wrong with a Beverley Craven album! But I’m sticking with Columbo - he’s just so cool. A mind like a trap, hidden in a body like a dung-heap. There’s also something quite Doctor-ish about him, so that’s probably why he appeals to me.”
Cripes! If The Unicorn and the Wasp’s cast and crew had to kill someone, what would be their murder weapon of choice?
Catherine Tate: “Sarcasm”
Russell T. Davies: “A great big gun, and then an axe, and then a steamroller. If I want ‘em dead, they’re dead. Failing that, I’d send in Jackie Tyler”.
Graeme Harper: “I like the idea of killing someone with a pointed piece of ice. Then it would melt, and no one would be able to tell how you’d done it!”
Fenella Woolgar: “Kindness!”
Gareth Roberts: “I would read them the Collected Columns of Polly Toynbee and bore them to death.”
David Tennant: “Something that didn’t make it too painful for them. Although, presumably I’d be killing them because they’d slighted me in some way. But I’d hope that, even in that state of psychosis, I’d manage some empathy. I’d like it to be a painless poison, so they’ll slip away into a sleep. Either that… or a gunshot to the face.”
watched as Killian tossed her a saucy smirk before closing their front door
behind him. Smile lighting up her face, she leaned against the door and sighed
happily. Tomorrow! Tomorrow she’d become Killian’s wife. After
tomorrow there’d be no need for them to ever spend a night apart.
Not only that, but for the first time since
that period of peace after they’d stopped Ingrid, there was absolutely nothing
hanging over her. Rumple had managed to stop his psycho mother…and it had
all happened without Emma’s prophesied death. Nothing was waiting for her
and Killian in the future except years and years of living and loving and
growing old together.
(Well…it was, after all, Storybrooke, so there
was bound to be some fairy tale character coming to town with a score to settle
some time or another, but after tomorrow, she and Killian would face it
together as husband and wife.)
A series of drabbles based on the request:
Can you write something for Gillian’s and David’s birthday with Eaden and her siblings, please? Maybe in the Vancouver house.
It was a complicated matter, her parents’ birthdays.
Eaden knew that they were in the month of August and Daddy’s birthday always came before Mommy’s. But that was the easy part.
Apparently, Dad’s birthday was two days before Mom’s. Eaden had asked if that meant that David was two days older than Gillian, but frankly, it didn’t. Well, not exactly, Gillian had replied, and there had been an expression on her face that Eaden hadn’t been able to figure out. It kind of resembled her “Are you serious?” face, the one she was wearing when Eaden had been naughty. Or when one of her brother’s had hurt himself again.
Anyway, Daddy was two days older than Mommy and at the same time, he wasn’t.
He told her something about eight years when she’d asked him, which, in her book, made even less sense. Eight years? Even if she was just three years old, Eaden knew very well that this was more than two times her age.
No, it made absolutely no sense at all.
Neither did the fact that Daddy had asked her what she wanted to give Mommy for her birthday way earlier than Mommy did, even though his birthday was before hers. She’d asked him about that too, but he just grinned and told her it was alright that they started earlier, no matter how confusing it seemed to be. The only important thing was to try to not spoil the surprise.
And that’s when it started to get really complicated.
Over weeks, Eaden had spent a lot of time on their presents. But when she was sitting with Mommy on Daddy’s birthday present, she couldn’t tell her that the day before, she’d finished a painting with Daddy that was supposed to be a part of her present. And vice versa.
Needless to say, the excitement went sky high when she learned that David had also prepared a present for Gillian. Something nice and shiny and something with a big meaning were the only clues he’d let on, which was enough to freak her out. How on earth was she supposed to keep that a secret?!
However, she did her best to take her father’s words by heart.
“I know this is exciting, baby. You can decide if you want Mommy to know what you have for her or not. But I think if you keep it to yourself until her birthday, she will be super surprised!”
And who didn’t like surprises?!
What she didn’t know, and wasn’t able to comprehend at this point, was that the last thing David had intended was to put any kind of pressure on his young daughter.
And he’d definitely not wanted her to stand in the hallway of their Vancouver home, sobbing heartbreakingly with tears streaming down her face on a beautiful Sunday night, the day before his birthday.
In which I use capslock to yell at Robbie a lot, which I’m sure I will be able to say about every update, call him out (also prob pretty common) and discuss the differences between NICE calling David a robot and MEAN calling David a robot.