Father Brown (2013–…): Season 9, Episode 6 - The New Order - full transcript

Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.

It has been a long time since my
last confession in this church.

Welcome back.

Hawthorne is the name.

Lord Hawthorne.
You are the talk of the village.

Hardly surprising. Things are about
to become

rather more interesting
around here.

In what way?

Important men will visit me
and this very church.

Dignitaries.
Even world leaders.

You, vicariously,
will become rather important.



Oh.

You will have the privilege
of being at my beck and call,

to attend to my spiritual needs.

I will do my best.

As I do for all my parishioners.

Father, you do know who I am?

Yes.

Then you know how
deep my pockets are.

I will fund a new church roof and
whatever else you want.

That's very kind of you.
It's not an act of charity.

It's to show my appreciation
for your devotion.

With respect, Lord Hawthorne,

my devotion is not for sale.

Bishop Reynard warned me you
might not be amenable.



Too concerned with extra
curricular activities.

But I told him we should give you
a chance to prove your loyalty.

From now on I suggest your first
duty is to me.

My first duty is to God.

Please, do not smoke.

It is an offence to God's Holy
House and Sacrament...

Father, as far as you should be
concerned...

I am God.

Just think, the owner of
the Daily Enquirer

returning to St Mary's.

Well, he's a role model, I suppose.

Indeed.
Pity about the son.

I can't imagine Lord
Hawthorne's shame.

Shame?

Father, do you never read
the newspaper?

A different floozy every
night, apparently.

Father,
I'm so glad you could make it.

Meet my son,
Gabe.

Gabe.

Fresh out of Cambridge.

A pleasure, Father.

Mrs McCarthy, parish secretary.

And this gorgeous creature is
Margot, my wife.

Charmed. I'm so looking forward
to getting to know everyone.

It's an honour to have you here.

Now, if there's anything you need,
anything at all.

We'll let you know. Father, let me
introduce you to my former priest

from London.

Father Brown,
Father Featherstone.

He could teach you a thing or two.

Father, I do not know how you do it.

Do what exactly?

This place.

I'll concede it's
aesthetically pleasing

but, my goodness,
it is dull.

Heaven knows how Arthur will cope
so far away from civilisation.

He may enjoy the pace of life here.

Between us,

your pace of your life is
going to change somewhat.

I'm reliably informed that you are
the hub of the community?

Oh, I don't know about that.

Though I suppose you could say
I am at the heart

of most things
that happen in the village.

I should very much like to write
for the parish magazine.

I have experience at the Enquirer.

Oh, you write. Though I can't say
I've ever seen your name.

I write Arthur's editorials.

Not that that's common knowledge,
you understand?

Your secret is safe with me.

May I ask what has brought you back
to Kembleford?

Entre nous,
a health scare of Arthur's.

I insisted on a change of life.

Away from Westminster
and high society.

Back to his roots,
where nothing ever happens.

What are your plans now,
after Cambridge?

Between us, Father,
I intend to travel.

To avoid the prying eyes of
the British press?

Exactly. No more waking up
to slanderous articles.

Oh, you'll be far too busy
to disgrace my name any further.

I don't understand.
Your time has come, my boy.

Top job is yours.

Aren't you going to thank me?

Thank you. Would you excuse me?

Detective Inspector Mallory,
my Lord. Kembleford Police.

And Sergeant Goodfellow,
sir. At your service.

Oh, yes. I've heard good things.

All of them true.

Don't believe we've had
the pleasure. Father Brown.

You're not going to preach at me,
are you?

Wouldn't dream of it.

Is it just me or can you smell...?

Garlic?

My thoughtless landlady dried my
shirt on the line.

Well, good job you're not
a vampire, then.

I'm not sure I can say
the same about our host.

Not a friend of Lord Hawthorne's?

More of a victim, actually.

I see. Did he print something?

Ruined me for a few column inches.

Thanks to him I'm what you might
call a social pariah.

Which rather begs
the question,

why are you here?

Would it help to talk?

I appreciate your concern, Father.

But your God and I are no
longer compatible.

Lady Hawthorne,
is everything all right?

Have you met our former priest,
Father Featherstone?

Oh, delighted to make
your acquaintance.

Do I detect a Cork accent?
What a divine place.

Yes, well, I can hardly disagree
with you there.

Tell me, do you find Kembleford as
provincial as I do?

Provincial?

I happen to be the
parish secretary.

Oh, I see. Would you excuse me?

I get the impression
that the 'top job'

isn't your lifetime's ambition.

Was it obvious?

Hello, Arthur.

I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

You know exactly who I am.

Inspector, would you remove this,
erm...

..gentleman?
If you don't mind?

Time I left, anyway.

Oh, and Arthur...

..your actions, they do have
consequences.

Enjoy the party.

Thank you. Thank you, you've all
made me feel very welcome.

Well, almost everyone.

What a terrible waste of
a rather fine champagne.

Now, as some of you may know,

Margot has pushed me out to pasture.

While I will remain as chairman,

it is time I stepped down as editor
of my beloved Enquirer.

But it gives me great pleasure
to introduce my successor.

Has anyone seen my...?

Somebody call an ambulance.

You're in good hands, Lord
Hawthorne.

Pressure, Sergeant. Pressure.

Right you are, Father.

Father...

Father, where are you...?

The shot must have been taken
from here.

So what exactly
are we supposed to be looking for?

Ooh.

"FL".

Who's "FL"?

Who indeed?

I'm fine. Merely a flesh wound.

Who would do such a thing?

Maybe the man who threw his
champagne in my face.

Have the police caught him yet?

No. But they've left
an officer outside.

You're quite safe.

Where were you both during
my speech?

I was trying to find Mother.

I had to lie down.
A splitting headache.

Oh, what bad timing.

Father.

I'm relieved to see you looking
so well.

Would you excuse us?

Of course.

I must update the press.
And Winston.

As in Churchill.

Thank you for attending to me.

I trust you've had
a change of heart?

Rest assured, I will support you as
much as I can.

But?

I must serve my
parishioners equally.

Therefore I cannot commit to being
at your sole beck and call.

Then I seriously advise you request
a transfer.

St Mary's has been my parish for
a long time.

Please respect my position.

Respect is all that I asked for.

I think we're done here.

Thank you.

Canon Fox, good morning.
To what do we owe the...?

This isn't a social call,
I'm afraid.

It is with a heavy heart that on
the orders of Bishop Reynard

I must suspend you
with immediate effect.

I don't understand.

We have been informed that you have
broken the seal

of the confessional.

Father Brown is incapable of such
a thing.

Who has made this complaint?

I'm not at liberty to say.

Oh, but you believe it, do you?

I will carry out an investigation,

the findings of which will be sent
to Rome

for the attention of His Holiness.

I can assure you,
I am entirely innocent.

I do hope that's true.

Alas, if found guilty,

your excommunication
will be confirmed.

Ah, Father. You're here.

None of this makes any sense.

We take these accusations
extremely seriously.

However, Father Brown may remain
here for now.

And how are we supposed
to manage without our priest?

Father Featherstone has kindly
agreed

to step into the breach until this
matter is resolved.

But he's...

..he's not even from this diocese.

Arrangements have been made.

Good day, Mrs McCarthy.

How nice to see you again.

Father?

In here.

Father...

..how can you defend yourself

if they won't tell you anything
about this allegation?

The seal of the confessional
is sacrosanct.

Don't worry, I'm sure
everything will...

Yes... Yes, I'm sure everything will
be just grand.

I don't mean to intrude...

So, about this complaint.

It wouldn't have been made by
someone

of great influence, would it?

Complaint? I have been accused of
breaking the seal.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Could someone show me to my room?

Certainly, Father.

I only hope it isn't too
"provincial" for you.

My men are on the case.

But as our prime suspect
didn't speak to any guests

he's proving difficult to identify.

I should have told you.
I saw him talking to Father Brown.

Why am I not surprised.
Thank you for your time.

Until this man is caught

I don't want either of you
out of my sight.

In that case, perhaps someone else
should take over at the Enquirer.

Someone with the right experience.

I will oversee your editorship.

I thought you had retired.

So I'll have time to train him up.

Actually, I'm not sure it's for me.

Going to stand on your own two feet,
are you?

With your reputation?

Trust me,
this will be the making of you.

Of course. I'll head to Fleet Street
as soon as this is all over.

Good.

This was your intention all along,
wasn't it?

To use him as your puppet.
Your editor by proxy.

He'll just need some guidance at
first. And your editorials.

Well, then it's perhaps time
I used my own opinion.

Fallen off the wagon, have we?

Of course not.

Then why are you
being obstreperous?

I really can't fathom why.

I was so very saddened
to hear about your predicament.

Though I do suppose that means you
won't be

getting under my feet anymore.

So, every cloud.

How can I help you Inspector?

I gather you spoke to the man who
caused the altercation yesterday.

You really should have said.

He seems to bear
a grudge against Lord Hawthorne

for something he printed.
That's all I know.

That's all I need.

By the way, what will people call
you now,

Mr Brown?

You'll always be the Padre to me.

Father, the cufflink.

Now, if you can find
the owner of that cufflink,

then you'll have found the culprit,

and Lord Hawthorne will have
to come to his senses.

The milk is off.
Isn't that the last straw?

Garlic.

Mrs Beckett's.

How did you know I was here?

A hunch.

I recalled that Mrs Beckett
sells garlic,

which she grows behind her B&B.

Might I ask your full name?

Stanley Buchanan. Why?

Oh.

Do you recognise this?

Should I?

I believe that it belongs to
the person who shot Lord Hawthorne.

I heard on the wireless.

I'm just sorry it's not
more serious.

He thinks you're responsible.

Well, perhaps he should look closer
to home.

What do you mean by that?

His wife was looking rather
murderous at the party,

right after she received
a package.

Nothing to do with me,
I hasten.

Then why don't you go to the police?

Allow them to eliminate you from
their enquiries?

I don't trust them, Father.
We have history.

Because you're homosexual?

And Lord Hawthorne put that in print
and made you a pariah.

Thanks to Hawthorne I'm
an exile in my own country.

Work, family, friends,

the only man I ever loved,
all gone.

You hide your disgust well, Father.

I have none to hide.

How were you incriminated?

An unjust encounter with the law.

I haven't done anything.

Afterwards they searched my
university rooms.

Found love letters.

Proof of my inclinations.

Did your friend suffer
the same fate?

Thankfully his letters weren't
submitted as evidence.

Sergeant McNally's testimony
was enough.

He claimed I'd been caught in
a compromising position

with another man. One who
conveniently escaped

as I was arrested.

He perjured himself?

I refuse to deny who I am.

For which you have,
no doubt, paid a high price.

My time on remand
left its mark on me.

So I agreed to hormone therapy,

to avoid a custodial sentence.

Chemical castration.

I'm so sorry.

But if I am indeed "cured",

then why do I feel so dead inside?

You will find solace in God.

It's too late for that, Father.

I will find out who is responsible.

Thank you for leading me straight
to him, Padre.

I am arresting you for the attempted
murder of Lord Hawthorne.

I didn't do it.
You are not obliged to say anything,

but anything you do say may be given
in evidence.

Trust me.

If it wasn't him,
who else could it be?

Apparently Lady Hawthorne received
a package

at the party which angered her.

Right enough, she did look very
upset before the speech.

I didn't see her.

Nor her son Gabe,
for that matter.

Evening mass,

whoever heard of such a thing?

The arrogance of that man.

Father, are you sure you really
want to face this?

God is testing me.

But I have faith that
the truth will out.

I know this must be unsettling
to see me up here,

but let me assure you that one thing
will never change,

God's love for us.

So we must honour that love by
resisting temptation,

being kind,
standing up for what is right.

He will...

We will disappoint Him.

But as long as you confess your sins

and truly repent,

then all will be forgiven.

Thank you for coming.

Godspeed.

I realise this must be difficult
for you.

Well, I must admit it's
a novel experience,

being in the congregation
of your own church.

Mrs McCarthy,

I fear we didn't set off on
the right foot.

Tea is in order.

And perhaps some
of your legendary scones?

My scones are only for
the rightful priest of this parish.

Father?

I think it best that you keep
a low profile.

Your presence here will not help
the congregation

accept Father Featherstone.

With respect, Canon Fox, this is
surely a temporary situation.

Because you will find out
the truth, won't you?

Lord Hawthorne,
it's good to see you up and about.

Oh, it takes far more than that
to take down my husband.

It seems that your reputation as
an amateur sleuth is justified.

Then please heed my advice
and reinstate your protection.

Perhaps that's for the best.

Nonsense. Mallory has his man.
I'm perfectly safe.

Now, come along.

Did you see that?

Yes.

Trouble in paradise, perhaps?

Your motive couldn't be any clearer.

Revenge on Lord Hawthorne
for fulfilling his moral duty.

Moral duty?

As you're perfectly aware,
what you do is illegal.

Which serves only
to make others like me vulnerable

to blackmail.

And police corruption,
as I know only too well.

The law protects those who are
normal from being converted.

So you think I could convert you?

What are you implying?

Well, if it's that easy.

I was talking about
the suggestable.

Believe me, Inspector,
you're quite safe.

Men like myself pose no threat
to anyone,

and yet we are perceived
to be worse than murderers.

Can't you see that's wrong?

All I see is that what you do
is perverted.

Then perhaps you should consider why
you feel so threatened by it.

Enough.

You told Lord Hawthorne that his
"actions have consequences."

A statement of intent if ever
I heard one.

If I was going to shoot him would
I really have made

a scene in public first?

You have no evidence.

No gun?

I'd say your position hangs on
a very delicate thread.

My position?

I can only imagine what your
superiors will say.

When the real perpetrator finishes
the job.

I saw the light on.

I can't sleep.

No. Maybe a game of dominoes?

Why not.

Take your mind off things.

Whatever would I do without you,
Mrs McCarthy?

I suppose you know who is sleeping
like a baby?

I'm not so sure.

Well, let me tell you, no-one was
impressed by that "performance"

of his in church today...

Is that who I think it is?

At this time of night?

Police, now.

Someone is trying to kill me.

I arrived just after the incident.

Unfortunately I didn't see anyone.

And all staff were present
and correct after the shooting?

I'm sure of it. Only these two were
unaccounted for.

I've been having trouble sleeping.

I had to go for a walk
to clear my head.

As did I.

Together?

No.

And did you happen
to see anything suspicious?

If we had, don't you think we
would've said something?

Sir, I found this hidden in
the wood.

We'll get it checked
but it looks like a match

for the bullet that was fired at
you, my Lord.

I could have been killed
because of your incompetence.

If it is the same weapon then you
have my assurance

that we will catch the real culprit.

You no longer have my full
confidence, Inspector.

You asked to see me, Lord Hawthorne?

I should have listened to you.

And perhaps I wasn't entirely fair.

Entirely?
But if you find out who's behind it,

then we can forget about
the other business.

The other business is my calling.

My vocation. My home.

Then you should have fallen
into line.

I serve God.

Not parishioners with
a God complex.

Are you going to help me or not?

I'll need the guest list from
the party.

It's yours.

Lady Hawthorne and your son,
are they proficient?

We're a shooting family.

I'll do all I can.

Oh, but you'd better hurry.

By the end of the day,

wheels will have been set in motion
which I cannot stop.

There was no "FL" on the guest list.

But Lady Hawthorne and Gabe were
conspicuously absent

during the second shooting.

I can't believe Lady Hawthorne
is responsible.

And besides, wouldn't
the cufflink suggest a man?

I get the impression Gabe wants
to break free from his Father.

But would he attempt patricide
for that reason?

There is another person who was
missing

when Lord Hawthorne was shot.

The same person who's contraption we
heard last night.

I will speak to Father Featherstone.

Could you try and find out what was
in the package

that was delivered
to Lady Hawthorne?

I will do my very best, Father.

And don't you worry,

we are going to put an end
to this...

..this madness.

I thought a tour of
the village might be in order.

I'd like that.
Have you met Bucephalus?

Named after Alexander
the Great's war horse.

This beauty is Jude.

Named after the priest who inspired
my calling.

Inspired?
In what way?

I was quite the delinquent,
if you can believe that.

He straightened me out,
showed me the path to God.

Then you have come far.

I couldn't help
but hear Jude last night.

Just before the latest shooting.

I went to see Lord Hawthorne.

Just as well, really, as he was
quite unsettled after what happened.

At mass, Lord Hawthorne's arrival
unsettled you.

Just at the point where you were
talking about doing the right thing.

Nerves got the better of me.

Or perhaps you are painfully
aware

that Lord Hawthorne's allegation
against me is false.

Father, I know that Kembleford is
not your natural habitat,

so why would you agree
to come here?

Do you really think I had a choice?

If you're quite finished,
I need to get cleaned up.

I'll give the tour a miss.

Thank you.

Lady Hawthorne.

How nice to see a friendly face.

Well, a friend in need.

After what happened last night

I thought you might want
some company.

Thank you, but I'm fine.

Would you like one?

At this hour?

No, no, I think not.

I wouldn't normally,
but with a madman on the loose...

Yes.

I'll ask Danby to get you some tea.

Oh, thank you.

What are you doing?

I'm sorry, Lady Hawthorne.

Get out!

Did you really have no idea?

When Arthur had his health scare,

there was a young woman at
the hospital.

He said she found him on the street.

But I knew he was lying.

Of course he was repentant.

Assured me it was a one-off.

I see.
He moved here to mollify me.

Away from distractions.

So I'm just going to burn those and
forget it.

Do you really think you
can forget?

My husband was an adulterer.

I chose not to live a lie

and I haven't regretted that for
a single second.

I won't ruin him or shame Gabe.

Bridget, please promise me you won't
tell anyone about this.

Rest assured, Lady Hawthorne,
I can be the soul of discretion.

I saw the photographs
with my own eyes.

Can you believe the hypocrisy of
that man?

Lady Hawthorne would appear to have
the most compelling motive.

And, yet, I get
the impression Father Featherstone

is here against his will.

Now, that's exactly what
Mrs Herbert thought.

Who?
His parish secretary in Chelsea.

I've just spoken to her on
the telephone.

And she, for the life of her,

couldn't understand how he would
willingly accept a post like this.

Did she say why?

Oh, because he had his eye on
becoming an Archbishop,

would you believe?

Well, then, it all makes sense.

Does it?
We haven't got much time.

So which one of you was it, then?

God knows it should have been me.

Perhaps it's one
of your mistresses?

I received those at the party.

From who?

Oh. Of course.

You stay there.

All the things he said about me.

He acts like he's some kind
of moral guardian

but he's nothing more than
a philanderer.

We'll draw a line under it.
Kembleford is a new start.

Do you really think he can change?

Look at what he's turned you into.

You're so much better than this.

I gather you had
a stellar career mapped out.

Which makes me wonder
why you agreed to come here?

Did Lord Hawthorne make you
an offer you couldn't refuse?

I am complicit in a great injustice.

Yours.

I don't think it's going to work out
with Father Brown.

He'll come round.

If not, I want you to take over.

Here? I'm flattered.
But you know my ambitions.

One year. Help me settle in.
Then I'll pull some strings.

A promotion?

Bishop by 35, I'd imagine.
A meteoric rise.

Do we have a deal?

Of course. But what about...?

Father Brown? Just leave him to me.

I had no idea he would stoop
this low.

Is that why you went
to see him last night?

I went to tell him I couldn't be
a part of it.

And now I must leave
the priesthood.

No. You know if you confess
and repent,

God will forgive you. As, will I?

When I tell the truth, Arthur will
ensure that I am excommunicated.

Which is nothing less than
I deserve.

Resigning really is
the only honourable way out.

And what then?

I'll find a new way to serve God.

Somewhere far away from here.

Ah, there you are.

Time for our chat.

My findings are to be sent
to Rome in the morning.

Lord Hawthorne has fabricated
this allegation.

And why exactly would he do that?

I cannot break the seal of
the confessional.

Then my hands are tied.

On behalf of Bishop Reynard I'd like
to thank you

for your many years of service.

It has been memorable knowing you,
if nothing else.

I have something to say.

Who went to Cambridge?

I beg your pardon?

Had a pair of these myself.

Yes, I used to like to tread
the boards.

You need to know that...

No, he doesn't.

Thank you.

He really doesn't.

Must dash.

They're sure? Ballistics confirm
the rifle fired both bullets, Sir.

Fingerprints?
Wiped clean.

We need something to go on.

Our ruddy necks are on
the line here, Sergeant.

Ours, Sir?

You're free to go.

I'm waiting for my apology.

I'm sure we'll be seeing you again.

Father, what can I do for you?

The shot into your father's study
was a miss.

So I assume you only meant
to scare him,

as by all accounts you are
an excellent shot.

I don't understand.

FL. Not as I first presumed,
someone's initials,

but the Footlights, a comedy review
society at Cambridge.

The university from which you have
just graduated.

I wasn't a member. Ask anyone.

No. But somebody at
the party was.

Oh...

..that's where you met.

You are the love that Stanley lost.

I don't know what you are
talking about...

You couldn't bear for him
to go back to prison.

So you took the second shot
and left the rifle to be found.

I think you should leave.

I will not betray your confidence.
You have my word.

I tried. I really did.
I courted so many women

and even the publicity,

so no-one would ever guess who
I truly desired.

He was my English tutor,
and it just felt right.

You disappeared from the party.
I assume you went to find him?

Yes.

What are you doing?

When Stanley was first arrested,

I was terrified
the police would come after me.

But they never did.

And I never dared look at
a man that way again.

Where is your father?

I have no idea.

We need to find him.

Ah. Those consequences you
mentioned.

I'm going to need the negatives.

What?
Don't play me for a fool.

For the photographs you sent
to my wife.

I'll pay you.

And then you never come near my
family ever again.

All right. They're in my car.

Show me.

Father Featherstone, heaven sent.

May I borrow Jude? It's an
emergency.

It's the least I can do.

Your car appears to be missing.

It was never here.

You've got it all wrong, you see.

This is the consequence I was
talking about.

He's been released.

Sergeant, we need to find Lord
Hawthorne as a matter of urgency.

I've just seen him, Father,

driving up towards Chipping Point
with Stanley Buchanan.

I'm going to tell the Inspector.

We'll see you there.

No! Father. Wait.

Get him off me!

Stanley, I understand now.

Lord Hawthorne didn't just report
your arrest, did he?

What do you mean? Your father must
have known about us.

A few weeks ago, I saw him with the
man who arrested me.

Suddenly it all made sense.

My arrest, the perjury,
he set it up.

And you were protected,

even though the police found
your letters.

I saved you from a life of filth.

And signed your own death warrant.

If you do this you will hang.

Don't you see, Father?

I was always going to hell
with Arthur. Where I belong.

You have much to look forward to.

You know that's not true.

Who do you think got you released?

I shot at him so they would let you
go.

You did what?!
You'll be rid of him now.

Find someone else.
Live a good life.

I don't want anyone else.

Gabe, my body is changing.

I've taken female hormones,
to "cure" me.

But you don't need to be cured.

Stanley, please. Just let him go
and we can be together again.

No son of mine is queer.

Stanley for the sake
of your immortal soul, let him go.

Hasn't he done enough
damage already?

You're not worth it.

Lord Hawthorne.

Given the injustice Stanley has
suffered

perhaps you could overlook
his intemperate...

I will overlook nothing.

You will be excommunicated,

you will be back behind bars

and you will take over
the Enquirer.

I don't think so.

Not when I have quite the story
to tell.

"Lord Hawthorne's adultery shame."

Where's the proof?

Remiss of you not to check, really.

You wouldn't destroy your
own legacy.

After what you've done
to Stanley,

it would be a pleasure.

Lord Hawthorne,
everything all right, Sir?

Just straightening out a little
misunderstanding, that's all.

You're not safe out here without
protection. Let me escort you home.

I don't see the point?

It's abundantly clear
to me that you are useless.

I can't believe you just did that.

Father, how can we ever repay you?

Well, there is just one
small thing.

Why are your bags packed?

Oh, no darling, they're yours.

Those photographs were taken by
a private detective, you see.

I wanted to see how genuine you
were

after your indiscretion.

No, thank you.

I will never be unfaithful again.

It's immaterial now.

I've just been writing my own
column.

It feels so liberating not
to be churning out your hate.

And who's going to publish you?

You, of course.
In the Enquirer.

Don't be ridiculous.

I assume you want me to maintain
a dignified silence?

I know how you hate to become
the story.

It would seem, Father,

that I'm not as incompatible with
the church as I thought.

Thanks to you.

Well, I'm glad to have you back in
the fold.

And Lord Hawthorne?

Has decided not to retire after all.

He's gone back to London.

London? Best place for him.

And you're off to see the world,
I hear?

With my companion.

God be with you.

Once again, Father, I can't tell you
how relieved I am

that this was all a
misunderstanding.

A relief indeed.

All's well that ends...

..well.

Back to Chelsea?

Not for long.

I've decided to set sail
to Swaziland.

Swazi, As a missionary?

You gave me a second chance, Father.

From now on I owe it to God
to help those who need me most.

Well, that's very admirable, indeed.

And I believe someone has a gift
for you.

Oh, yes.
Just a few strawberry scones,

award-winning.

By way of apology for having been
less than welcoming.

How thrilling.

I do hope you'll keep in touch.

Godspeed.

Goodbye. God bless.

I don't think I could handle another
replacement, Father.

I can assure you, Mrs McCarthy, I
have no intention of going anywhere.

Well, that is a relief.

You may not be as...

..as sprightly,

but there's no substitute
for experience.