Grantchester (2014–…): Season 7, Episode 1 - Episode #7.1 - full transcript
A bit dapper for The Eagle.
Well, I thought we'd
try somewhere new.
Eh?
Just because I'm
living at yours,
do we always have to
go where you want?
You'll love it.
Christ on a bike!
It's nearly a new
decade. Embrace it!
He's a vicar, you know.
Didn't expect
to see you tonight?
I got jilted by a frisky vicar.
What's your excuse?
Er, new diktat from
Captain Efficiency.
"The filing system is incompatible
with modern policing methods."
He's changing everything!
Anything else happening?
Actually, someone heard a
woman scream in Grantchester.
Police attended the address
but failed to apprehend
the offending mouse.
Even the criminals can't be
bothered to work in this heat.
Hey, wait!
I'm sorry. My landlady turns
into a dragon at half past ten.
Well, can I have your number?
I'm not sure.
You're very pretty,
but your dancing is terrible.
Well, I was thinking the
exact same thing about you.
I'll call you. Wait!
What's your name?
Hot.
City is hot.
No cat is movin'.
No cat is groovin'.
It's too hot.
Any thoughts?
Are you not boiling
in that jumper?
Oi, you lazy lot!
We've got visitors!
I'll be down in a minute.
Oh! Lovely place
for a honeymoon.
I hope Henry's wife knows
how lucky she is. Hm.
Him giving up all this, so she
could stay close to her mother.
Mm. And he's fully
house-trained.
Unlike some I could mention.
Ah, this is a surprise.
Is it? Mm?
Ah! Saturday!
Well, they thought
you'd forgotten,
but I told them you were busy
planning something special
for your day with them,
so you better had.
Er, swimming, wasn't it?
That's right. Once a
year the Fitzgeralds
open their garden and
pool to the village.
They haven't got their bathers.
I'm sure they could borrow some.
I need to get on.
Thank you, Sylvia.
See you later, Will.
Have 'em back by five.
All right. Cath!
Look, I'll make it up to you.
Look, how about next Saturday
we take a run down the coast,
all of us together? Hm?
That would be lovely.
But we best not.
I don't wanna confuse the kids.
I owe you.
Though my name's still
mud in some parts.
She didn't wanna
get her hair wet.
Spent all morning
curling it, apparently.
They're growing up
while I'm not looking.
So where did you
get to last night?
I nipped off when
the dancing started.
I use the term loosely.
She looked like a live wire.
Yeah. She was.
Has she got a name?
I didn't get it. Or her number.
You're losing your touch, vicar.
Oh, Will! You
must come and say hello.
Out! Out!
Out! Oi! Come on!
Back to the pool!
Thank you.
I don't know why I
bother with the sign.
I... I hear this
is all your doing?
Well, you have
very green fingers.
And dirty nails.
My glamorous sister
Adele despairs.
You can't feel what you're
doing with gloves on.
Agreed! Oh...
Any tips on growing cornflowers?
They're the wife's favourites,
but I'm not having much
joy bringing them on.
It doesn't do to spoil them.
I'll keep that in mind.
Mr Davenport! Adele.
It really is so nice of
you to do all of this.
And will you be taking
the plunge? Ah...
I am afraid not. I
have a wedding later.
Eurgh. Relentless.
You must be positively
choking on confetti.
You'll be heading up the
aisle in a few months.
No fool like an
old fool. Nonsense.
I'm looking forward to
meeting the groom...
Help!
Help!
In the outhouse. Hurry.
He's dead.
Madam!
I'm so sorry.
Thank you.
I'm sorry, but if you'd make
your way to the front gates...
Oi. There's nothing
to see. Go on. Scram!
Esme.
Quickly. Let's go.
He looks like a vagrant. But
he's wearing a very
expensive ring.
Police! Clear the area.
Ah, buckle up.
It's the new gaffer.
Inspector Keating!
Aren't you off duty?
Well, I was already here
when the body was found.
Then what the hell are you doing
giving a civilian access
to the crime scene?
Well, er, my fault. I was
offering a final prayer.
But if it helps, I do think the
poor man was here all night...
Thank you, sir.
You can be on your way.
Boss!
This is the third dead
tramp we've had this year.
Yeah. There could be a link.
I'd like to close off the
area and do a proper search.
Thank you, but I won't
trouble you on your day off.
This one's yours, DC Peters.
Show me what you've got.
Get him down the morgue,
find out who he is.
Yes, guv.
Well, he was wearing
a signet ring.
Might point you to his family.
Yeah, or the family
he nicked it off.
Here.
That was the best day ever.
And we saw a dead man.
He was just having a nap.
He was dead as a dodo.
Maybe don't mention
that to your mum.
Esme.
Your hair looks lovely.
See you next Saturday!
He was wearing
the family signet ring?
Yes. That's my brother.
But your sister didn't recognise
him when she found him?
He's changed.
He's been abroad for 20 years
and apart from the odd
telegram, we lost touch.
How you getting on?
Easy.
Looks like a heart attack.
I reckon he was taking a
wander through the grounds
and his heart went.
Collapsed against the wall,
and it fell in on him.
Just make sure he gets
a proper onceover.
And don't go cutting any corners
just because the boss
wants it done yesterday.
I don't mind the new guv'nor.
It's good having a
young guy at the top.
I reckon
he's more in touch.
Miss Fitzgerald is keen
to complete the paperwork.
You were
right about the ring.
Though Edmund Fitzgerald
doesn't look much like
a lord of the manor to me.
Even the best families
have their renegades.
He looks like a tramp,
but clearly he wasn't.
Had an old love
letter in his pocket.
From someone called Irene.
1946.
That's a long time
to carry a torch.
Question is,
did that wall fall,
or were those bricks a decoy?
For what?
He died of heart failure.
Ah, lots of things can cause
a heart to stop beating.
Like a punch...
You're suspicious?
Hm? It's not my case.
But if it was,
I'd be suspicious as hell.
Pockets! Laundry!
Sorry.
Not bad.
Larry really is
an absolute twerp.
That's doing a
disservice to twerps.
Listen, I can't be seen to interfere
with another man's investigation...
But?
I'm wondering if Edmund Fitzgerald
sent a telegram to anyone else
to say he was coming home.
My poker chum Patricia
works at the Post Office.
She's completely
without scruples.
I could ask her to
check, on the sly?
Perfect.
Poker, eh?
That's what you
do for fun, is it?
No. Conversational Russian is for
fun. Poker is purely for cash.
Oh.
Inspector Keating.
I understand you're
at a loose end.
Well, actually, in light
of the Fitzgerald death,
I'm revisiting the investigation
into the dead homeless men...
Fitzgerald wasn't
homeless. No, but...
Let's not waste time on
cold cases, Inspector.
I've got some paperwork
that needs to be signed off.
It's boring admin
mainly, but, er,
the devil's in the detail.
All Edmund
cared about was flying.
When the war ended, he
refused to come in to land.
He was last heard of piloting
bush planes in the back of beyond.
Bolivia. Or Brisbane.
I didn't keep up. He never
settled anywhere for long.
You held the fort while he
squandered the family fortune?
It was his to spend.
Inheritance in the Fitzgerald
family is a male affair.
All this is his.
Adele and I are
here on sufferance.
Oh.
When was the last time
that you heard from Edmund?
He sent a telegram, to say he
was coming home for the wedding.
He wanted us to
send the airfare.
We didn't have the funds.
He must have come
overland instead.
It was probably too
much for his heart.
It's a family thing.
Fitzgerald men are
notoriously short-lived.
The police think he
cut across the fields
and came in through
the back gate.
And he took a turn...
Oh, Maude.
Do stop going over it. Sorry.
Oh! Find another body, did you?
I see you're taking
down the tents.
Er, did you put them up as well?
Are you from the press?
If I was, would you have
something to tell me?
If this is about the dead
man, I never saw nothing.
Now clear off.
We had so many rooms like this.
My mother knew the telephone
number for Sotheby's off by heart.
So do I.
Oh, Edmund. You
selfish bloody idiot!
Sorry.
Don't be.
He was such a
glorious little boy.
Tearing about the place,
not a thought for
rules, or consequences.
Such marvellous fun.
Problem is, he never grew up.
And this place paid the price.
I'm pretty sure that wall
didn't fall down yesterday.
Someone arranged those old
bricks on Edmund as a cover-up.
So it was murder?
I'd like to see a will.
Find out who stood to gain.
Well, Edmund blew most of it.
What's left goes to the
next male Fitzgerald.
Did you get his name? No.
He won't be hard to find.
I'll makes some calls
when we get back.
Oh, about that.
The new boss is a
bit of a stickler.
Maybe it's best you steer
clear of the station for a bit?
Hm?
Where do you want Anton? Ooh.
Next to Montgomery.
They can talk Stanislavski.
It looks all right, doesn't it?
Yeah, it's great. Like
a Beat poets' cafe?
Yes.
Have some faith in yourself.
It's a new adventure.
I was thinking
the poetry stage could go here,
but I'm worried about noise
from the expresso machine.
You can always drown it
out with your bongos.
Well, yes, but some
of the other poets
might not be such
confident performers.
Welcome to The Cherry Orchard!
Almost ready for
the grand opening?
You'll be getting rid of
those gloomy articles.
They're all wrong for
an English tearoom.
Actually, I took those.
Let's see this kitchen, then.
You, er, mustn't let her
run away with herself.
Oh, I don't mind.
I never could have done
this without you and Mrs C.
Oh.
I'll never be able to repay you.
Be happy.
That's all the payment we need.
William. This is a surprise.
I, er...
I thought we should talk about
your brother's funeral, but, er,
perhaps this isn't the time.
Howard, come and meet the vicar.
William Davenport,
Howard Fitzgerald.
William will be
presiding at our wedding.
Yes. Lovely to finally meet you.
Sorry to have been so elusive.
I'm hoping to spend a lot more
time here once we're hitched.
So, er,
Lord Fitzgerald is happy for you
to continue to live in this house?
Oh, he won't see his wife
and her sister homeless.
Now I'm confused.
I'm the new Lord Fitzgerald.
And Adele's fiance.
I'm both!
Howard David Fitzgerald.
He's Edmund's fifth cousin.
There wasn't anyone closer
to inherit the estate?
It's a heart problem.
Here we are.
I popped in an ice cube.
Very kind, Mrs C.
Solved the case yet?
No, afraid not.
Well, if anyone bumped him
off, it was Irene Gibbons.
Gibbons?
Any relation to the handyman?
His daughter.
The letter in Edmund's
pocket was from an Irene.
Young Lord Fitzgerald
let her down.
She never forgot it.
The minute we laid
eyes on each other,
that was it.
Well, when you know, you know.
Don't you?
Hm.
Edmund didn't care
that I weren't posh.
If he wanted something,
there was no stopping him.
And he wanted me.
We'd wait until my dad
had gone up for the night,
and then Edmund would sneak in
through that window and we'd...
So what happened?
He went off to war and I wrote
twice a week for four years.
He never wrote back.
And then on VE day,
a letter finally came
and he was saying he wanted
to break off the engagement.
Never even came home, he just
disappeared off on his travels.
And I never knew where.
That must have made
you very angry.
He was my one and only.
He said he would put
a ring on my finger.
The night Edmund died,
a witness saw him
crossing those fields.
He must have been
coming to see Irene.
Maybe she walloped
him with something.
Hell hath no fury
like a woman scorned.
Wait. No, we're
missing something.
How did he get from
Brisbane to Grantchester
without so much as a
wallet or passport?
He didn't.
You know, Larry should be
searching this place top to toe.
All those years Irene
spent pining for Edmund.
Yep. The one who got away.
What a waste of time.
She could have met someone else.
Spoken like a man who's
never been in love.
What, when I met Cathy,
every other woman in the
world just melted away.
Yeah, and look how
that worked out.
It's a temporary
blip, that's all.
Geordie?
Bingo.
Henderson's Travel, Mayfair.
Looks like someone bought
Edmund's ticket for him.
First class all the way.
Mayfair.
That's the new Lord Fitzgerald's
stomping ground, isn't it?
Even if Howard Fitzgerald
did buy the flights,
it doesn't tell us anything.
It tells us he knew when
Edmund was arriving home.
He could've been lying in wait.
I need you to bring me evidence.
I don't need to bring you
anything, Larry, it's not my case!
But you need to investigate whether
Edmund was dispatched by the man
who has just
inherited his estate.
What have we got here, gents?
Bag belonging to the
heart attack victim.
Doesn't give us anything.
How did we get hold of this?
A member of the public found it.
You've caught the
sun, Inspector.
You been away from your desk?
I think Peters is on
the wrong track, sir.
Based on what? A hunch?
And years of experience.
There used to be a place for
the maverick in our game.
But we're training the new boys
to be methodical and professional.
Leave Peters to it.
Don't want him
picking up bad habits.
Yes, sir.
So it's true.
You really are a vicar.
How did you find me?
I followed a star.
Actually, the barman at The
Nouveau let the cat out of the bag.
You made quite the
impression on him.
Well, maybe I should have asked
for his number, not yours.
What's your name?
Maya.
What's yours?
Will.
Well, I can think of cheerier
places for a rendezvous.
But it does serve
as a reminder that
life is short,
and must be lived at full tilt.
So...
What now?
I've no idea.
What does one do for
fun at a vicarage?
Ta-dah!
Amazing what you can do
with some old curtains
and a pair of pinking shears!
It's lovely.
But it's not quite the
look I'm going for.
The Cherry Orchard
is a place for writers
and intellectuals.
When someone walks in,
it should feel like they're in
London, or New York, or Paris.
And those places
don't do chintz.
Well, Cambridge does.
And cream teas. In
a proper tearoom.
Anything else,
you might as well throw
Jack's money down the drain.
Do you think I'm
a terrible sinner?
I think you're the most
amazing woman I have ever met.
What am I doing? You're a vicar!
There is more to
me than my work...
Yeah, I think you've
just proved that.
I'm sorry, I really have to run.
No, no. We have to...
We have to talk.
Mm-hm. I wanna get to
know everything about you.
Trust me, you don't.
We have had the
best time together,
but we should quit
while we're ahead.
You're not even gonna
give us a chance?
There is no "us". We're
entirely different people.
No, we don't know that.
What if we are actually
perfect together?
Well, then love will out.
Hey, I tell you what. Those
cornflowers have perked up
since I started giving
them the cold shoulder.
And you've perked up as well.
What have you been up to?
Ah, I'd rather not say.
You sly old dog!
It was the woman I met in
the club. Her name's Maya.
And she is...
Oh, she's incredible.
You're smitten!
You know what that means?
She's the one!
Two more beers coming up.
Oh, and while I'm in there, I'm
gonna tell Mrs C to buy a hat.
In January, Edmund sent this
telegram to his sisters.
"Intend to return for
marriage. Send single fare."
That fits with Adele's story.
There's no record of
her sending a reply.
But before Edmund sent the
telegram to his sisters,
he sent this to Irene Gibbons.
"Still have ring."
"Will you wear it?"
Well, looks like
a proposal to me.
She sent her reply by return.
Why didn't you
tell us about this?
I never heard back from him.
I thought he'd
let me down again.
Irene, when Edmund died, he
was carrying this letter.
You wrote it to him in 1946.
A love letter.
When he was still
on his travels.
How did you know
where to send it?
I never posted it.
I only wrote it
to clear my mind.
I keep it in my jewellery box.
Did Edmund know about that box?
He made it for me
when we were courting.
He promised that one day he
would fill it with diamonds.
May I?
I think this might be for you.
'The day he
got back from Australia,
'Edmund came straight
from the station.
'He climbed through that window
like when you were courting.
'He wanted to put that
ring on your finger.'
Irene?
'But you weren't home.
'So, he thought he'd surprise you
by leaving it in the jewellery box.
'And that's when he found
the letter you never sent.
'But he was
interrupted...'
What the hell's going on?
I was coming home from the WI.
Dad was
wrestling with a man.
I screamed. That was the
scream reported by neighbours.
Did you see who that man was?
No.
Stay back!
I thought it was some old tramp
who had broken into the house.
That was Edmund.
But you recognised him.
Didn't you, Mr Gibbons?
That was the same night you
delivered the changing tents
to the Fitzgerald garden.
Maybe you delivered a
body at the same time?
Get out, or I'll
call the police.
There's no need.
They're already here.
I stopped their letters
getting through during the war.
She thought he never wrote.
He thought she never wrote.
In the end,
he broke off the engagement.
You tricked your daughter
out of the love of her life.
She'd have been a laughing
stock if she'd married him!
Irene...
She no lady of the manor.
Returning to the
night in question...
You killed Fitzgerald
before the pair of them could
work out what was going on.
Thank you, DI Keat... You
wrapped him in tarpaulin
and delivered him
to the manor house.
I punched him. And he
scarpered into the field.
I threw his bag after him.
If you lot had
bothered to check up
on what time that
scream was reported,
you'd know I found Fitzgerald
in my house after I come back
from putting up the
tents at the manor house.
For your sake, sir, I'm gonna
pretend that never happened.
I'd have invited half of London,
but Adele wants
something low key.
Oh, it seems a bit silly
to make a fuss at our age.
Do you know, I don't think I've
heard the story of how you two met?
We're distant cousins,
known each other forever.
I've been chasing
this one for years.
But she wouldn't touch
me with a bargepole.
Don't be silly.
I'd resigned myself
to the bachelor life.
Then, March-time, the blower
goes, and it's Delzer,
inviting me to a concert
at the Albert Hall.
Ghastly stuff, you know.
Give me Perez Prado any day.
You can't compare
Mambo to Mahler.
By the end of the night,
she'd agreed to marry me!
You seem happy together.
I've been head over
heels and this isn't it.
But he's kind. And rich.
You never thought to marry any
of the men you were in love with?
They always had
estates of their own,
and I couldn't abandon Maude.
She's not as robust
as she looks.
She could have married too. Oh.
I'm afraid Maude prefers
plants to people.
I have to do what's
best for all of us.
Lovely evening for it.
I'm just waiting for Mr Davenport
to finish his marriage instruction
with the happy couple.
Oh, you mean my sister
and Lord Fitzgerald.
Gardening gloves?
Three-line whip from the bride.
My nails must be tip
top for the big day.
Adele and Howard didn't
get engaged until March.
But Edmund mentioned
the wedding in January.
When he sent his telegram.
He must have been talking
about a different marriage.
His own. To Irene Gibbons.
I'm so
nervous about tomorrow.
I feel like I did before
I gave my first sermon.
To fresh starts.
And courage.
"Life is given only once and
one wants to live it boldly."
You do have a way with words.
Oh, that was Mr Chekov.
Not me.
I just hope the customers
like what I've done.
When people came into the church,
it was God on display, not me, but
when they come in here, well
this is Leonard Finch.
Evening, all.
You get off home.
I'll lock up.
No, no argument. Scram.
Night, Jack.
You're looking tired.
There'll be plenty of time to
rest after the big opening.
Now, I need my step ladder.
That bunting is coming down.
Edmund Fitzgerald
had a heart attack.
Yes, but what caused it?
I mean, was there anything in
the post-mortem about toxins?
Drugs, alcohol, poison?
No, nothing.
What about the stomach contents?
Well, I'd have to check back.
Well, go on, then.
For the boss.
All the I's dotted,
all the T's crossed.
Er, I've got telegram news.
Patricia's been asking around.
Adele Fitzgerald did
reply to the telegram
her brother sent in January.
But she sent her reply from
a post office in Sudbury.
"Congrats on engagement.
Ticket to follow."
Bye.
I've spoken to the
auction house in Sudbury.
Adele went there in January with a
small painting she wanted to sell.
It reached £500 at auction and
the funds cleared in March.
Then she hotfoots it to Mayfair,
uses the cash to buy
Edmund's travel tickets,
then persuades
Howard to marry her.
It's all very efficient.
Except she booked
Edmund's flights for June,
when she could have brought him
home in March and been done with it.
Well, maybe she needed time
to work up the courage?
Hm? Like you with Cathy.
I'm not working up my courage.
I'm waiting for my plants to grow.
And so were the
Fitzgerald sisters.
Hello, Maude.
It's a bumper year for hemlock.
Everything in this family is
passed down the male line,
including this house.
So when Edmund telegrammed to say
he was coming home to get married,
it was a good as
an eviction notice.
You knew he'd boot you
out of his marital home.
So the two of you decided to kill
Edmund before he could marry.
But hemlock takes a while
to grow, doesn't it, Maude?
It's the most poisonous
plant on Earth.
Even a touch of it can kill.
And by booking Edmund's
travel yourselves,
you could time his return for when
the hemlock was at its most potent.
So when Edmund finally arrived home
and sat down for his last supper
it made quick work of him.
And after his encounter
with Frank Gibbons,
Edmund had a face
full of bruising.
Both of you tried
to explain that away
by making it look like the
wall had collapsed on him.
But it wasn't enough just
to kill your brother.
Because on his death this house
still goes to the next male heir.
It'd be very unlikely for
the new Lord Fitzgerald
to allow you to stay
in his new home.
Unless, of course, one of you
happened to be married to him.
This is preposterous!
You're preposterous!
Maude! Preposterous and noisy!
If it's not your wretched mambo,
it's the giggling
and the bed springs!
I hear you pestering her!
It's disgusting.
And pointless!
Can't you see she's
too old to have a baby?
You're the last Fitzgerald
man and that's the end of it!
Pestering?
I thought you enjoyed it?
Is that right, Howard?
You're the last of
the Fitzgerald men?
That hardly seems relevant!
I'm afraid it is, sir.
Because when you die, the
sisters finally get everything.
Next, you'll be saying they
plan to bump me off too!
Don't be ridiculous!
Is it ridiculous, Maude?
Is that why you didn't
get rid of the hemlock?
Because you planned
to use it again?
No!
Maude! Tell them it's not true.
I prefer it just the two of us.
Oh, Maudsey.
Coffee, thanks.
We meet again, vicar.
Er, pastoral visit.
The Fitzgerald sisters
are parishioners, so...
Ah. And you got there
in the end, Inspector.
The paperwork you
reviewed for me.
Yes, sir.
But you should know,
I intend to revisit the deaths
of the homeless gentlemen.
Vagrant deaths are hardly
unusual.
I'd just like to
take another look.
Like you say, the
devil's in the detail.
You've got a visitor, sir.
Come on through.
Uh-oh.
Come and meet the men.
DC Peters.
And Inspector Keating and
his friend, the vicar.
Gentlemen, this is Maya.
My fiancee.
Ashamed.
I burrow into dark.
Winter. Earth.
Spring.
Roots emerge.
Limbs
stretch.
I have become a tree.
My branches blossoming,
pink and proud!
I did not fall on barren ground.
But in this place, where
friends grow all around.
The Cherry Orchard!
Thank you.
If anyone knows of any local
poets who'd like to perform,
speak to the manager. That's me.
Oh, thank you.
Thank you. I appreciate
that, thank you.
I think that went well!
Oh, it was wonderful.
There's someone
you have to meet.
Oh, thank you.
Cornflowers, your favourites.
Oh. Thank... Thank you.
I grew them especially.
I've been fretting
over them for months.
What I'm saying is...
Although we've been apart,
you're always on my mind, Cathy.
That's not true, Geordie.
If I was on your mind,
you'd show up on time
to collect the kids,
and you wouldn't send them back
in dripping, dirty clothes.
It was Mrs C's day off. No!
You... You could've done it,
but it... never even
occurred to you.
That's because your time is
more important than mine.
Huh.
Well, if my time is so precious,
why did I spend months of
it growing those flowers?
I don't know.
I've told you a hundred times,
my favourites are
Canterbury Bells.
I'll see you Saturday.
Well, I thought we'd
try somewhere new.
Eh?
Just because I'm
living at yours,
do we always have to
go where you want?
You'll love it.
Christ on a bike!
It's nearly a new
decade. Embrace it!
He's a vicar, you know.
Didn't expect
to see you tonight?
I got jilted by a frisky vicar.
What's your excuse?
Er, new diktat from
Captain Efficiency.
"The filing system is incompatible
with modern policing methods."
He's changing everything!
Anything else happening?
Actually, someone heard a
woman scream in Grantchester.
Police attended the address
but failed to apprehend
the offending mouse.
Even the criminals can't be
bothered to work in this heat.
Hey, wait!
I'm sorry. My landlady turns
into a dragon at half past ten.
Well, can I have your number?
I'm not sure.
You're very pretty,
but your dancing is terrible.
Well, I was thinking the
exact same thing about you.
I'll call you. Wait!
What's your name?
Hot.
City is hot.
No cat is movin'.
No cat is groovin'.
It's too hot.
Any thoughts?
Are you not boiling
in that jumper?
Oi, you lazy lot!
We've got visitors!
I'll be down in a minute.
Oh! Lovely place
for a honeymoon.
I hope Henry's wife knows
how lucky she is. Hm.
Him giving up all this, so she
could stay close to her mother.
Mm. And he's fully
house-trained.
Unlike some I could mention.
Ah, this is a surprise.
Is it? Mm?
Ah! Saturday!
Well, they thought
you'd forgotten,
but I told them you were busy
planning something special
for your day with them,
so you better had.
Er, swimming, wasn't it?
That's right. Once a
year the Fitzgeralds
open their garden and
pool to the village.
They haven't got their bathers.
I'm sure they could borrow some.
I need to get on.
Thank you, Sylvia.
See you later, Will.
Have 'em back by five.
All right. Cath!
Look, I'll make it up to you.
Look, how about next Saturday
we take a run down the coast,
all of us together? Hm?
That would be lovely.
But we best not.
I don't wanna confuse the kids.
I owe you.
Though my name's still
mud in some parts.
She didn't wanna
get her hair wet.
Spent all morning
curling it, apparently.
They're growing up
while I'm not looking.
So where did you
get to last night?
I nipped off when
the dancing started.
I use the term loosely.
She looked like a live wire.
Yeah. She was.
Has she got a name?
I didn't get it. Or her number.
You're losing your touch, vicar.
Oh, Will! You
must come and say hello.
Out! Out!
Out! Oi! Come on!
Back to the pool!
Thank you.
I don't know why I
bother with the sign.
I... I hear this
is all your doing?
Well, you have
very green fingers.
And dirty nails.
My glamorous sister
Adele despairs.
You can't feel what you're
doing with gloves on.
Agreed! Oh...
Any tips on growing cornflowers?
They're the wife's favourites,
but I'm not having much
joy bringing them on.
It doesn't do to spoil them.
I'll keep that in mind.
Mr Davenport! Adele.
It really is so nice of
you to do all of this.
And will you be taking
the plunge? Ah...
I am afraid not. I
have a wedding later.
Eurgh. Relentless.
You must be positively
choking on confetti.
You'll be heading up the
aisle in a few months.
No fool like an
old fool. Nonsense.
I'm looking forward to
meeting the groom...
Help!
Help!
In the outhouse. Hurry.
He's dead.
Madam!
I'm so sorry.
Thank you.
I'm sorry, but if you'd make
your way to the front gates...
Oi. There's nothing
to see. Go on. Scram!
Esme.
Quickly. Let's go.
He looks like a vagrant. But
he's wearing a very
expensive ring.
Police! Clear the area.
Ah, buckle up.
It's the new gaffer.
Inspector Keating!
Aren't you off duty?
Well, I was already here
when the body was found.
Then what the hell are you doing
giving a civilian access
to the crime scene?
Well, er, my fault. I was
offering a final prayer.
But if it helps, I do think the
poor man was here all night...
Thank you, sir.
You can be on your way.
Boss!
This is the third dead
tramp we've had this year.
Yeah. There could be a link.
I'd like to close off the
area and do a proper search.
Thank you, but I won't
trouble you on your day off.
This one's yours, DC Peters.
Show me what you've got.
Get him down the morgue,
find out who he is.
Yes, guv.
Well, he was wearing
a signet ring.
Might point you to his family.
Yeah, or the family
he nicked it off.
Here.
That was the best day ever.
And we saw a dead man.
He was just having a nap.
He was dead as a dodo.
Maybe don't mention
that to your mum.
Esme.
Your hair looks lovely.
See you next Saturday!
He was wearing
the family signet ring?
Yes. That's my brother.
But your sister didn't recognise
him when she found him?
He's changed.
He's been abroad for 20 years
and apart from the odd
telegram, we lost touch.
How you getting on?
Easy.
Looks like a heart attack.
I reckon he was taking a
wander through the grounds
and his heart went.
Collapsed against the wall,
and it fell in on him.
Just make sure he gets
a proper onceover.
And don't go cutting any corners
just because the boss
wants it done yesterday.
I don't mind the new guv'nor.
It's good having a
young guy at the top.
I reckon
he's more in touch.
Miss Fitzgerald is keen
to complete the paperwork.
You were
right about the ring.
Though Edmund Fitzgerald
doesn't look much like
a lord of the manor to me.
Even the best families
have their renegades.
He looks like a tramp,
but clearly he wasn't.
Had an old love
letter in his pocket.
From someone called Irene.
1946.
That's a long time
to carry a torch.
Question is,
did that wall fall,
or were those bricks a decoy?
For what?
He died of heart failure.
Ah, lots of things can cause
a heart to stop beating.
Like a punch...
You're suspicious?
Hm? It's not my case.
But if it was,
I'd be suspicious as hell.
Pockets! Laundry!
Sorry.
Not bad.
Larry really is
an absolute twerp.
That's doing a
disservice to twerps.
Listen, I can't be seen to interfere
with another man's investigation...
But?
I'm wondering if Edmund Fitzgerald
sent a telegram to anyone else
to say he was coming home.
My poker chum Patricia
works at the Post Office.
She's completely
without scruples.
I could ask her to
check, on the sly?
Perfect.
Poker, eh?
That's what you
do for fun, is it?
No. Conversational Russian is for
fun. Poker is purely for cash.
Oh.
Inspector Keating.
I understand you're
at a loose end.
Well, actually, in light
of the Fitzgerald death,
I'm revisiting the investigation
into the dead homeless men...
Fitzgerald wasn't
homeless. No, but...
Let's not waste time on
cold cases, Inspector.
I've got some paperwork
that needs to be signed off.
It's boring admin
mainly, but, er,
the devil's in the detail.
All Edmund
cared about was flying.
When the war ended, he
refused to come in to land.
He was last heard of piloting
bush planes in the back of beyond.
Bolivia. Or Brisbane.
I didn't keep up. He never
settled anywhere for long.
You held the fort while he
squandered the family fortune?
It was his to spend.
Inheritance in the Fitzgerald
family is a male affair.
All this is his.
Adele and I are
here on sufferance.
Oh.
When was the last time
that you heard from Edmund?
He sent a telegram, to say he
was coming home for the wedding.
He wanted us to
send the airfare.
We didn't have the funds.
He must have come
overland instead.
It was probably too
much for his heart.
It's a family thing.
Fitzgerald men are
notoriously short-lived.
The police think he
cut across the fields
and came in through
the back gate.
And he took a turn...
Oh, Maude.
Do stop going over it. Sorry.
Oh! Find another body, did you?
I see you're taking
down the tents.
Er, did you put them up as well?
Are you from the press?
If I was, would you have
something to tell me?
If this is about the dead
man, I never saw nothing.
Now clear off.
We had so many rooms like this.
My mother knew the telephone
number for Sotheby's off by heart.
So do I.
Oh, Edmund. You
selfish bloody idiot!
Sorry.
Don't be.
He was such a
glorious little boy.
Tearing about the place,
not a thought for
rules, or consequences.
Such marvellous fun.
Problem is, he never grew up.
And this place paid the price.
I'm pretty sure that wall
didn't fall down yesterday.
Someone arranged those old
bricks on Edmund as a cover-up.
So it was murder?
I'd like to see a will.
Find out who stood to gain.
Well, Edmund blew most of it.
What's left goes to the
next male Fitzgerald.
Did you get his name? No.
He won't be hard to find.
I'll makes some calls
when we get back.
Oh, about that.
The new boss is a
bit of a stickler.
Maybe it's best you steer
clear of the station for a bit?
Hm?
Where do you want Anton? Ooh.
Next to Montgomery.
They can talk Stanislavski.
It looks all right, doesn't it?
Yeah, it's great. Like
a Beat poets' cafe?
Yes.
Have some faith in yourself.
It's a new adventure.
I was thinking
the poetry stage could go here,
but I'm worried about noise
from the expresso machine.
You can always drown it
out with your bongos.
Well, yes, but some
of the other poets
might not be such
confident performers.
Welcome to The Cherry Orchard!
Almost ready for
the grand opening?
You'll be getting rid of
those gloomy articles.
They're all wrong for
an English tearoom.
Actually, I took those.
Let's see this kitchen, then.
You, er, mustn't let her
run away with herself.
Oh, I don't mind.
I never could have done
this without you and Mrs C.
Oh.
I'll never be able to repay you.
Be happy.
That's all the payment we need.
William. This is a surprise.
I, er...
I thought we should talk about
your brother's funeral, but, er,
perhaps this isn't the time.
Howard, come and meet the vicar.
William Davenport,
Howard Fitzgerald.
William will be
presiding at our wedding.
Yes. Lovely to finally meet you.
Sorry to have been so elusive.
I'm hoping to spend a lot more
time here once we're hitched.
So, er,
Lord Fitzgerald is happy for you
to continue to live in this house?
Oh, he won't see his wife
and her sister homeless.
Now I'm confused.
I'm the new Lord Fitzgerald.
And Adele's fiance.
I'm both!
Howard David Fitzgerald.
He's Edmund's fifth cousin.
There wasn't anyone closer
to inherit the estate?
It's a heart problem.
Here we are.
I popped in an ice cube.
Very kind, Mrs C.
Solved the case yet?
No, afraid not.
Well, if anyone bumped him
off, it was Irene Gibbons.
Gibbons?
Any relation to the handyman?
His daughter.
The letter in Edmund's
pocket was from an Irene.
Young Lord Fitzgerald
let her down.
She never forgot it.
The minute we laid
eyes on each other,
that was it.
Well, when you know, you know.
Don't you?
Hm.
Edmund didn't care
that I weren't posh.
If he wanted something,
there was no stopping him.
And he wanted me.
We'd wait until my dad
had gone up for the night,
and then Edmund would sneak in
through that window and we'd...
So what happened?
He went off to war and I wrote
twice a week for four years.
He never wrote back.
And then on VE day,
a letter finally came
and he was saying he wanted
to break off the engagement.
Never even came home, he just
disappeared off on his travels.
And I never knew where.
That must have made
you very angry.
He was my one and only.
He said he would put
a ring on my finger.
The night Edmund died,
a witness saw him
crossing those fields.
He must have been
coming to see Irene.
Maybe she walloped
him with something.
Hell hath no fury
like a woman scorned.
Wait. No, we're
missing something.
How did he get from
Brisbane to Grantchester
without so much as a
wallet or passport?
He didn't.
You know, Larry should be
searching this place top to toe.
All those years Irene
spent pining for Edmund.
Yep. The one who got away.
What a waste of time.
She could have met someone else.
Spoken like a man who's
never been in love.
What, when I met Cathy,
every other woman in the
world just melted away.
Yeah, and look how
that worked out.
It's a temporary
blip, that's all.
Geordie?
Bingo.
Henderson's Travel, Mayfair.
Looks like someone bought
Edmund's ticket for him.
First class all the way.
Mayfair.
That's the new Lord Fitzgerald's
stomping ground, isn't it?
Even if Howard Fitzgerald
did buy the flights,
it doesn't tell us anything.
It tells us he knew when
Edmund was arriving home.
He could've been lying in wait.
I need you to bring me evidence.
I don't need to bring you
anything, Larry, it's not my case!
But you need to investigate whether
Edmund was dispatched by the man
who has just
inherited his estate.
What have we got here, gents?
Bag belonging to the
heart attack victim.
Doesn't give us anything.
How did we get hold of this?
A member of the public found it.
You've caught the
sun, Inspector.
You been away from your desk?
I think Peters is on
the wrong track, sir.
Based on what? A hunch?
And years of experience.
There used to be a place for
the maverick in our game.
But we're training the new boys
to be methodical and professional.
Leave Peters to it.
Don't want him
picking up bad habits.
Yes, sir.
So it's true.
You really are a vicar.
How did you find me?
I followed a star.
Actually, the barman at The
Nouveau let the cat out of the bag.
You made quite the
impression on him.
Well, maybe I should have asked
for his number, not yours.
What's your name?
Maya.
What's yours?
Will.
Well, I can think of cheerier
places for a rendezvous.
But it does serve
as a reminder that
life is short,
and must be lived at full tilt.
So...
What now?
I've no idea.
What does one do for
fun at a vicarage?
Ta-dah!
Amazing what you can do
with some old curtains
and a pair of pinking shears!
It's lovely.
But it's not quite the
look I'm going for.
The Cherry Orchard
is a place for writers
and intellectuals.
When someone walks in,
it should feel like they're in
London, or New York, or Paris.
And those places
don't do chintz.
Well, Cambridge does.
And cream teas. In
a proper tearoom.
Anything else,
you might as well throw
Jack's money down the drain.
Do you think I'm
a terrible sinner?
I think you're the most
amazing woman I have ever met.
What am I doing? You're a vicar!
There is more to
me than my work...
Yeah, I think you've
just proved that.
I'm sorry, I really have to run.
No, no. We have to...
We have to talk.
Mm-hm. I wanna get to
know everything about you.
Trust me, you don't.
We have had the
best time together,
but we should quit
while we're ahead.
You're not even gonna
give us a chance?
There is no "us". We're
entirely different people.
No, we don't know that.
What if we are actually
perfect together?
Well, then love will out.
Hey, I tell you what. Those
cornflowers have perked up
since I started giving
them the cold shoulder.
And you've perked up as well.
What have you been up to?
Ah, I'd rather not say.
You sly old dog!
It was the woman I met in
the club. Her name's Maya.
And she is...
Oh, she's incredible.
You're smitten!
You know what that means?
She's the one!
Two more beers coming up.
Oh, and while I'm in there, I'm
gonna tell Mrs C to buy a hat.
In January, Edmund sent this
telegram to his sisters.
"Intend to return for
marriage. Send single fare."
That fits with Adele's story.
There's no record of
her sending a reply.
But before Edmund sent the
telegram to his sisters,
he sent this to Irene Gibbons.
"Still have ring."
"Will you wear it?"
Well, looks like
a proposal to me.
She sent her reply by return.
Why didn't you
tell us about this?
I never heard back from him.
I thought he'd
let me down again.
Irene, when Edmund died, he
was carrying this letter.
You wrote it to him in 1946.
A love letter.
When he was still
on his travels.
How did you know
where to send it?
I never posted it.
I only wrote it
to clear my mind.
I keep it in my jewellery box.
Did Edmund know about that box?
He made it for me
when we were courting.
He promised that one day he
would fill it with diamonds.
May I?
I think this might be for you.
'The day he
got back from Australia,
'Edmund came straight
from the station.
'He climbed through that window
like when you were courting.
'He wanted to put that
ring on your finger.'
Irene?
'But you weren't home.
'So, he thought he'd surprise you
by leaving it in the jewellery box.
'And that's when he found
the letter you never sent.
'But he was
interrupted...'
What the hell's going on?
I was coming home from the WI.
Dad was
wrestling with a man.
I screamed. That was the
scream reported by neighbours.
Did you see who that man was?
No.
Stay back!
I thought it was some old tramp
who had broken into the house.
That was Edmund.
But you recognised him.
Didn't you, Mr Gibbons?
That was the same night you
delivered the changing tents
to the Fitzgerald garden.
Maybe you delivered a
body at the same time?
Get out, or I'll
call the police.
There's no need.
They're already here.
I stopped their letters
getting through during the war.
She thought he never wrote.
He thought she never wrote.
In the end,
he broke off the engagement.
You tricked your daughter
out of the love of her life.
She'd have been a laughing
stock if she'd married him!
Irene...
She no lady of the manor.
Returning to the
night in question...
You killed Fitzgerald
before the pair of them could
work out what was going on.
Thank you, DI Keat... You
wrapped him in tarpaulin
and delivered him
to the manor house.
I punched him. And he
scarpered into the field.
I threw his bag after him.
If you lot had
bothered to check up
on what time that
scream was reported,
you'd know I found Fitzgerald
in my house after I come back
from putting up the
tents at the manor house.
For your sake, sir, I'm gonna
pretend that never happened.
I'd have invited half of London,
but Adele wants
something low key.
Oh, it seems a bit silly
to make a fuss at our age.
Do you know, I don't think I've
heard the story of how you two met?
We're distant cousins,
known each other forever.
I've been chasing
this one for years.
But she wouldn't touch
me with a bargepole.
Don't be silly.
I'd resigned myself
to the bachelor life.
Then, March-time, the blower
goes, and it's Delzer,
inviting me to a concert
at the Albert Hall.
Ghastly stuff, you know.
Give me Perez Prado any day.
You can't compare
Mambo to Mahler.
By the end of the night,
she'd agreed to marry me!
You seem happy together.
I've been head over
heels and this isn't it.
But he's kind. And rich.
You never thought to marry any
of the men you were in love with?
They always had
estates of their own,
and I couldn't abandon Maude.
She's not as robust
as she looks.
She could have married too. Oh.
I'm afraid Maude prefers
plants to people.
I have to do what's
best for all of us.
Lovely evening for it.
I'm just waiting for Mr Davenport
to finish his marriage instruction
with the happy couple.
Oh, you mean my sister
and Lord Fitzgerald.
Gardening gloves?
Three-line whip from the bride.
My nails must be tip
top for the big day.
Adele and Howard didn't
get engaged until March.
But Edmund mentioned
the wedding in January.
When he sent his telegram.
He must have been talking
about a different marriage.
His own. To Irene Gibbons.
I'm so
nervous about tomorrow.
I feel like I did before
I gave my first sermon.
To fresh starts.
And courage.
"Life is given only once and
one wants to live it boldly."
You do have a way with words.
Oh, that was Mr Chekov.
Not me.
I just hope the customers
like what I've done.
When people came into the church,
it was God on display, not me, but
when they come in here, well
this is Leonard Finch.
Evening, all.
You get off home.
I'll lock up.
No, no argument. Scram.
Night, Jack.
You're looking tired.
There'll be plenty of time to
rest after the big opening.
Now, I need my step ladder.
That bunting is coming down.
Edmund Fitzgerald
had a heart attack.
Yes, but what caused it?
I mean, was there anything in
the post-mortem about toxins?
Drugs, alcohol, poison?
No, nothing.
What about the stomach contents?
Well, I'd have to check back.
Well, go on, then.
For the boss.
All the I's dotted,
all the T's crossed.
Er, I've got telegram news.
Patricia's been asking around.
Adele Fitzgerald did
reply to the telegram
her brother sent in January.
But she sent her reply from
a post office in Sudbury.
"Congrats on engagement.
Ticket to follow."
Bye.
I've spoken to the
auction house in Sudbury.
Adele went there in January with a
small painting she wanted to sell.
It reached £500 at auction and
the funds cleared in March.
Then she hotfoots it to Mayfair,
uses the cash to buy
Edmund's travel tickets,
then persuades
Howard to marry her.
It's all very efficient.
Except she booked
Edmund's flights for June,
when she could have brought him
home in March and been done with it.
Well, maybe she needed time
to work up the courage?
Hm? Like you with Cathy.
I'm not working up my courage.
I'm waiting for my plants to grow.
And so were the
Fitzgerald sisters.
Hello, Maude.
It's a bumper year for hemlock.
Everything in this family is
passed down the male line,
including this house.
So when Edmund telegrammed to say
he was coming home to get married,
it was a good as
an eviction notice.
You knew he'd boot you
out of his marital home.
So the two of you decided to kill
Edmund before he could marry.
But hemlock takes a while
to grow, doesn't it, Maude?
It's the most poisonous
plant on Earth.
Even a touch of it can kill.
And by booking Edmund's
travel yourselves,
you could time his return for when
the hemlock was at its most potent.
So when Edmund finally arrived home
and sat down for his last supper
it made quick work of him.
And after his encounter
with Frank Gibbons,
Edmund had a face
full of bruising.
Both of you tried
to explain that away
by making it look like the
wall had collapsed on him.
But it wasn't enough just
to kill your brother.
Because on his death this house
still goes to the next male heir.
It'd be very unlikely for
the new Lord Fitzgerald
to allow you to stay
in his new home.
Unless, of course, one of you
happened to be married to him.
This is preposterous!
You're preposterous!
Maude! Preposterous and noisy!
If it's not your wretched mambo,
it's the giggling
and the bed springs!
I hear you pestering her!
It's disgusting.
And pointless!
Can't you see she's
too old to have a baby?
You're the last Fitzgerald
man and that's the end of it!
Pestering?
I thought you enjoyed it?
Is that right, Howard?
You're the last of
the Fitzgerald men?
That hardly seems relevant!
I'm afraid it is, sir.
Because when you die, the
sisters finally get everything.
Next, you'll be saying they
plan to bump me off too!
Don't be ridiculous!
Is it ridiculous, Maude?
Is that why you didn't
get rid of the hemlock?
Because you planned
to use it again?
No!
Maude! Tell them it's not true.
I prefer it just the two of us.
Oh, Maudsey.
Coffee, thanks.
We meet again, vicar.
Er, pastoral visit.
The Fitzgerald sisters
are parishioners, so...
Ah. And you got there
in the end, Inspector.
The paperwork you
reviewed for me.
Yes, sir.
But you should know,
I intend to revisit the deaths
of the homeless gentlemen.
Vagrant deaths are hardly
unusual.
I'd just like to
take another look.
Like you say, the
devil's in the detail.
You've got a visitor, sir.
Come on through.
Uh-oh.
Come and meet the men.
DC Peters.
And Inspector Keating and
his friend, the vicar.
Gentlemen, this is Maya.
My fiancee.
Ashamed.
I burrow into dark.
Winter. Earth.
Spring.
Roots emerge.
Limbs
stretch.
I have become a tree.
My branches blossoming,
pink and proud!
I did not fall on barren ground.
But in this place, where
friends grow all around.
The Cherry Orchard!
Thank you.
If anyone knows of any local
poets who'd like to perform,
speak to the manager. That's me.
Oh, thank you.
Thank you. I appreciate
that, thank you.
I think that went well!
Oh, it was wonderful.
There's someone
you have to meet.
Oh, thank you.
Cornflowers, your favourites.
Oh. Thank... Thank you.
I grew them especially.
I've been fretting
over them for months.
What I'm saying is...
Although we've been apart,
you're always on my mind, Cathy.
That's not true, Geordie.
If I was on your mind,
you'd show up on time
to collect the kids,
and you wouldn't send them back
in dripping, dirty clothes.
It was Mrs C's day off. No!
You... You could've done it,
but it... never even
occurred to you.
That's because your time is
more important than mine.
Huh.
Well, if my time is so precious,
why did I spend months of
it growing those flowers?
I don't know.
I've told you a hundred times,
my favourites are
Canterbury Bells.
I'll see you Saturday.