The Others

GRACE:
Now, children,

are you sitting comfortably?

Then I'll begin.

This story started

many thousands of years ago...

but it was all over

in just seven days.

All that long, long time ago...

none of the things

We can see now--

the sun, the moon,

the stars, the earth...

the animals and plants--

not a single one existed.

only god existed...

and so only He

could have created them.

And He did.

MRS MILLS:
Simpson.

What a character he was.

I wonder

whatever became of him?

MP TUTTLE:
Oh, I imagine

he's dead like all the rest.

MRS MILLS:

Ah, those were the days.

Mr Tuttle, your hair.

Yes?

Good morning, ma'am.

We've come about the--

Oh, yes, of course.

Come in.

I wasn't expecting you so soon.

You are... ?

I'm Bertha Mills, ma'am.

And this is Edmund Tuttle.

Pleased to meet you, ma'am.

You must be the gardener.

That's right. The gardener.

And this young lady

is called Lydia.

Have you had

much experience in service?

Oh, don't let that angel face

fool you, ma'am.

She's older than she looks.

Can you iron?

What's the matter?

Has the cat got your tongue?

She can't talk, ma'am.

The poor little mite's a mute.

Oh.

Oh, but she's

a good little worker.

I can promise you that.

All right.

All right. The other girl

I had spoke too much, anyway.

Follow me.

Mrs Mills, you and the girl...

Will sleep in the attic room

at the top of the stairs.

- And you, Mr...

- Tuttle, ma'am.

You could sleep in the shed

around the back.

As you can see, the housework

has been rather neglected...

since the servants disappeared

almost a week ago.

You mean they just vanished?

GRACE:
Into thin air.

No notice, nothing. They didn't

even collect their wages.

They... they just left us.

MRS MILLS:

What a strange thing to do.

GRACE:
You'll soon find out

there are times...

When this house is not

exactly an ideal home.

Hence my advertisement

in the newspaper...

requesting honest,

hard-working people.

There's nobody more honest

or hard-working than us.

Isn't that right, Mr Tuttle?

Oh, aye, we're very honest.

And, um, very hard-working.

The kitchen.

I have breakfast at 8.00...

the children at 9.00.

Lunch will be served at 1.00

and dinner at 7:
30.

MRS MILLS:

And the master, ma'am?

The master went off to war...

a year and a half ago.

I've had no news

since the war ended.

Which of you does the cooking?

MRS MILLS:

I'm so sorry, ma'am.

Which of you does the cooking?

You'll notice what I'm doing.

In this house,

no door must be opened...

Without the previous one

being closed first.

It is vital

that you remember this.

It's not as easy

as it may seem.

There are 1 5 different keys

for all of the 50 doors...

depending on which area of

the house you're in at the time.

Mrs Mills,

from tomorrow onwards...

I will be leaving

a set of keys in your charge.

Yes, ma'am.

The music room.

That old piano was already here

when we moved in.

Please do not let

the children thump away on it.

It sets off my migraine.

Silence is something that we

prize very highly in this house.

That is why you will not find

a telephone, a radio...

or anything else

that makes a racket.

Oh, we don't have

electricity, either.

During the war, the Germans

kept cutting it off...

so we learned to live

without it. Let's continue.

Ma'am, there's no need

to show us the whole house.

GRACE:
Yes!.

Yes, there is.

Most of the time,

you can hardly see your way.

It's often difficult

to make out...

if there is a table, a chair,

a door, a sideboard...

or one of my children

playing hide and seek.

What do you mean, ma'am?

Perhaps I should introduce you

to the children.

Mr Tuttle,

you can see to the garden now.

You'll find tools in the shed.

Yes, ma'am.

You two can star closing

the curtains.

All of them.

Come.

I'll wake them.

You wait here.

Whatever you do,

don't open the curtains.

Wakey, wakey.

GRACE:
Now, come on.

Eyes closed, hands together.

CHILDPEN:

Let it be, at light of day...

Jesus, to whom now I pray.

Blessed be the Virgin pure...

Whom I greet with faith

too short.

Jesus, Mary, spotless rose...

keep us till this day

doth close.

GRACE:

They're still half asleep.

MRS MILLS:

What sweet little children.

Well... what do you say?

How do you do?

How do you do?

How do you do, children?

My name is Mrs Mills...

but you can call me

Bertha if you like.

What are your names?

- Anne.

- Nicholas.

Anne and Nicholas.

What pretty names.

ANNE:
Are you going to be

our new nanny?

Mm-hmm.

Yes, my dears.

I'm your new nanny.

It's time for their breakfast.

Lydia, go to the kitchen

and close every shutter.

The doctors were never able

to find a cure.

For what?

Their condition.

The children have

a very serious allergy to light.

They are photosensitive

and must never be exposed...

to any light

much stronger than this.

otherwise,

in a matter of minutes...

they will break out

in sores and blisters...

and begin to suffocate.

It would eventually be fatal.

MRS MILLS:
good heavens.

I don't like this toast.

Oh? Why not?

It tastes funny.

I liked it better before.

That's because before,

somebody else made it.

When are they coming back?

They're not coming back, child.

Just like Daddy.

Daddy is coming back, though.

Mrs Mills, our father's

fighting in a war in France.

NICHOLAS:
It's the World War.

I know, but he's in France.

That's enough, chatterboxes.

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