Grantchester (2014–…): Season 8, Episode 1 - Episode #8.1 - full transcript
After a fun-filled charity motorbike race, a young biker is found dead. Will and Geordie struggle to work out who would want to hurt a gifted young man.
♪ ♪
WILL:
No one is without sin.
Whatever we do, God loves us,
sins and all.
Will!
This changes everything.
WILL:
We are very different people.
I have faith and you don't.
ELLIOT:
How is it you hurt
everyone around you
and always come out unscathed?
(grunts)
GEORDIE:
You are better than this.
WILL:
Maybe I'm not as good
as you think.
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
(thunder claps)
(whimpers)
(click)
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
WILL:
When the knights of old
rode out on their steeds,
they upheld ideals of courage,
courtesy, and chivalry.
Of all the indignities!
Sh.
The steeds may have changed.
The young men before us
can still represent
those same ideals.
Though some of you
held less positive opinions
when you first heard their bikes
racing through the village.
But I ask you to
remember another biker
who rode in here four years ago,
full of bravado
and not always
enough common sense.
(congregation chuckles)
And in time,
you welcomed
me into this community.
There is no clearer
demonstration
of the noble values of
these bikers
than their participation in
today's charity motorbike race.
If you haven't got a ticket
yet,
Mrs. Davenport
still has a few spare.
All for a good cause.
Yeah, 'cause of me
thrashing your arse!
Like hell he will.
(giggling)
(congregation murmuring)
(clears throat)
(murmuring stops)
I ask that you join me
in a special prayer.
Oh God,
we dedicate ourselves
and our bikes to your service.
We vow to ride them
responsibly
and we thank you
for the promise of adventure,
the thrill of the open road.
(stifling laugh)
♪ ♪
BONNIE:
It was funny.
Mrs. C was about to have
a conniption in the aisle.
(chuckles)
WILL:
Thanks for coming.
(all greeting)
BONNIE:
Hello.
The Burnhams--
mention their dahlias.
Oh.
Mr. and Mrs. Burnham,
congratulations
on the dahlias.
MRS. BURNHAM:
What a rude man.
Their dahlias died.
That's the whole thing
with the Lowells.
Ah.
Mrs. Kirk, damp hands.
Ah.
BONNIE (hissing and exhaling):
Oof...
You are so good at this.
Spycraft.
It's all we talk about
at mother and baby group.
(muttering):
Here she comes.
Motorcycles
inside a church?
LEONARD:
You bring in cabbages
and marrows at
the Harvest Festival.
My cabbages don't leak
all over the flagstones.
Dish soap, it's the only thing
that'll shift it.
Mark my words.
What happened to your
resolution to be more accepting?
He may be a loving God,
but he has his limits.
Well, I think
it's very impressive.
I'm just sorry
I won't be at the race today.
How is the house?
Hoping to pop by tomorrow.
Please do.
I'm having a little trouble
with the neighbors.
We made a list!
I, uh, said we shouldn't have.
Joseph, Ruth, Silas...
Ezekiel!
Baby names--
you shouldn't have.
STEPHANIE:
I'm just saying, Jimmy,
if all vicars were like him,
I'd be here every week.
Steph.
What?
He's a right dreamboat.
(chuckles)
Leathers!
Inside a church!
JIMMY:
She hates you.
(giggles)
Look at this!
What's that?
(gasps)
WILL:
Wow.
He said the light on
the little man was so good,
he had to catch it.
BONNIE (gasps):
These are brilliant, Carl.
Brilliant.
No, they're more
than just doodles.
They're beautiful
drawings.
Show 'em your logo, Carl.
Hey, look at this.
(Stephanie chuckles)
Yeah, I said to Carl
we should have a team name,
if we ever get serious.
Cambridge Crows.
As the crows fly.
(laughing):
Hey.
Hey?
♪ ♪
Oi.
Ugh!
(chuckling)
You know, Mrs. Davenport,
we really must
have some decorum.
Oh, well, it's a bit late
for that.
(both chuckle)
You two get going.
I'll clear up here.
I'm sorry you can't come.
And miss tea
with the bishop's wife?
(chuckles)
It'll be a riot.
You should see Marion
after a couple of Earl Greys
and a custard cream.
Oh, there'll be other races.
There better be.
You're not allowed to win
unless I'm there.
Oh, not a chance.
This is my shot, eh, Ernie?
(both chanting):
Davenport! Davenport!
Davenport!
Raise some money,
not my blood pressure.
♪ ♪
ANNOUNCER (over speaker):
And if anyone comes away
from today
hoping to tune up their
own vehicle,
why not pop along to
the Weller Garage?
Ron Weller and Son offer great-
value repairs and tune-ups...
ESME:
I like her leather jacket.
No, you don't.
Oh, let her enjoy it.
Loads of girls are
into bikes these days.
One day, you could be
riding them.
(chuckles)
Oi, Brando.
See ya.
All right.
Oh, now, look at
all this.
Well done!
18 pounds
in ticket sales.
I just hope
everyone enjoys it.
Look what we found!
(kids cheering)
Well, you've won
that lot over.
Better day out
than we had as kids.
Better?
Some of us fought a war
so this lot
wouldn't have to
risk their lives.
(engines revving)
It's very noisy!
(engine revving)
Hey, listen to that.
Roars like your mum, Steve.
Bloody hooligans, as well.
They're hardly being...
TOMMY:
You call yourselves
the Cambridge Crows?
More like the Cambridge
Choir Boys, I reckon.
What you looking at,
butthead?
He ain't worth it,
Carl.
Sod off back
to Newmarket, Tommy.
Hey, let's keep it civil.
You Crows owe me
for the dent in my fender
the other weekend.
Oh, here we go.
Go on, spit it out.
What are you saying
to each other?
We start paying for every
stupid thing you do,
you'll be
a millionaire by Friday.
TOMMY:
We'll see how stupid I am when
you losers eat my dust
on the track.
Only thing you'll eat
is a five-knuckle sandwich.
(chuckles)
How'd you like
these knuckles, eh?
Simmer down!
(bikers shouting)
Enough! Enough!
You wanna race today?
You behave today.
Next time I see one
of you acting all tough,
you'll be walking home,
you clear?
Right then, bikes at the ready
in ten, and hop to it!
You and all, Jimmy.
And you, Carl.
GEORDIE:
Impressive.
Ron,
this is Geordie Keating.
Ron runs the local garage.
Ron Weller.
They've all got
the spirit of youth.
Just gotta focus it
sometimes.
(both chuckle)
GEORDIE:
So all this is your fault?
Well...
Right, best of luck.
You're gonna need it.
You know, all these
different riders,
different levels of skill.
I could still
work out handicaps.
You know, realign
start positions...
No, Ron, Ron,
it's for charity.
I know, I know, I know, I know.
Still, I got one of
my promoter pals
from my Speedway days
to pop along.
Frank!
This one's a vicar!
Nothing like a novelty act,
eh, Ron?
(both laugh)
I think I'm in
with a chance.
Yeah, well, miracles
are your forte, Vicar.
(chuckling)
(engines revving,
crowd cheering)
ANNOUNCER:
As you can see, the riders are
making their way to the start.
(exclaim)
Ah, now we have Cambridge's own
Jimmy Weller...
Oi, oi, no late additions!
Hop it!
It's for charity, Ron--
they love it!
IVY:
What's that on his helmet?
I think it's
a lightning flash.
Go on, then.
(engine roars, crowd cheers)
ANNOUNCER:
Who's gonna bring it home
to the rest of the riders?
A late entry, Lightning...
(engine struggling)
Very, very mysterious.
Newmarket's Tommy Wilson,
and Grantchester's own
Will Davenport.
(engines revving,
engine struggling)
Go!
ANNOUNCER:
And they're off.
(cheering)
(engine struggling)
Go on.
Oh, that poor boy!
CATHY:
What's happened to
Carl's bike?
(engine roaring)
(cheering)
♪ ♪
JACK:
Go on, Will.
Is he winning?
He only bloody is.
Go on, Will!
(engines roaring)
Oh, you spoke too soon.
Go on, son, that's it.
♪ ♪
The lad at the back's
doing very well.
Forget about him!
Will needs to get
a bloomin' move on!
(engines rumbling)
Here we go.
Open her up,
open her up there.
Keep your head down,
get down low,
there you go.
GEORDIE:
Come on, Will.
(cheering and exclaiming)
(Will yelping)
(all gasp)
(whimpers)
♪ ♪
(laughing)
You're all right,
then?
He's fine.
Can't corner for toffee,
mind.
(laughing):
I did it, Geordie.
Just now
when I tried to get up,
I made the noise.
What noise?
The noise you make
when you get out of a chair.
(laughs)
Sod off.
Get these moved.
(Ron and Will laughing)
(catching breath)
Move it.
I'm fine, I'm fine.
Oh, you silly boy.
Did you get hurt?
You're bleeding.
Nah, suit of armor on.
Who's winning?
JACK:
Jimmy's in front.
Who's this Lightning?
No idea.
(engines roaring)
(crowd cheering)
Oh, my stars!
Did you see that?
Come on, Carl!
Go on, lad.
Come on, Carl!
Wow!
(cheering and applauding)
There's only one lap left.
(engine revving)
♪ ♪
I can't watch, my heart!
Move your bottom, Carl!
(laughs)
(engines roaring)
(cheering)
Oh, my goodness,
he did it!
Oh, wow!
♪ ♪
(cheering)
MAN:
Come on, Carl!
(crowd cheering)
What a race!
Oh, Jack, all that excitement,
I think I did myself a mischief.
RON:
What a comeback!
That was racing--
that was racing!
ANNOUNCER:
...followed closely
by Carl Taylor,
who makes an astonishing
recovery
after a stalled start
to come in second.
Put your hands together...
My lad, my lad!
JIMMY:
Hey.
That was great!
(laughing, congratulating)
That was impressive.
Hey, cheers.
(laughing, moans):
Stop it!
So, all this time I thought
you wanted to be James Dean,
when really it was
Buster Keaton.
(chuckles)
Does this hurt?
No.
Mm.
(exclaims)
(gasps)
(sighs)
(laughing)
(sniffs)
You put the fear of God
into Ernie.
Oh, he's fine.
Mm.
Bet you're glad
you escaped all the drama.
Oh, sod off.
Three hours of
not crumbing on doilies
and "how best to serve God
and your parish"
instead of a day with my boys?
I don't even believe in God.
Or doilies.
Hm.
This little bugger was
kicking like Bobby Charlton.
Let me feel.
Oh, no, wait--
don't be so keen.
It's like you're
tuning in a wireless.
And no one really
believes in doilies.
(both chuckle)
(Dickens whining)
GEORDIE (on phone):
Yeah, as soon as you can, Will.
Right, right,
I'll meet you there.
Bonnie?
Have you seen my bike keys?
Geordie called--
something's happened.
Study?
On the nursery boxes?
Ernie...
Will!
Taking the bike out
for a spin?
I didn't do it!
(keys clatter)
What...
I-- excuse me!
(toast rack clatters)
It's fine, it's fine.
Ernie,
come back here right now!
(door slams)
Let him go.
Sterling support,
fellow parent.
No, seriously,
you need to be firmer.
He needs dad discipline,
too.
Could you...
'Cause of the...
Course.
(exhales)
(exhales)
(engine rumbling)
(wildlife chittering)
(motorcycle approaching,
engine stops)
What is it?
I'm so sorry, Will.
♪ ♪
LARRY:
Farmer heard bike noises
last night.
Found him first thing.
Looks like he had a party.
Bashed over the head,
I reckon.
(exhales)
(car approaching)
(brake engages, engine stops)
(people talking, music playing
in background)
It's the last thing he drew,
at the track last night.
Just before he was killed.
(music playing)
Geordie, I'll tell them.
(tools clanking)
♪ ♪
I saw him, just last night.
We'll need to inform
his family.
We are his family.
Carl was an orphan.
You okay, Dad?
Here, sit down.
I don't need to sit down.
GEORDIE:
When did you last see him?
Ten-ish,
last night.
We rode here after
the race for sarnies and beers
and became a bit
of a knees-up.
You were here?
Uh, the house
is 'round back.
Popped my head in,
clear 'em off home, and...
Then me and Jimmy
watched telly for a bit.
Did Carl leave on his own?
Yeah, he was the last to go.
WILL:
Did he say where he was going?
I, I figured his bedsit.
Dad!
It's those ruddy
Newmarket louts!
Tommy Wilson.
GEORDIE:
Yeah, what was that argy-bargy
all about before the race?
Couple of weekends back,
we did a run up to King's Lynn.
Chips on the beach,
you know?
Tommy and his mates
started on us.
A few punches were thrown.
Undisciplined thugs
is what they are.
I teach my boys
to have respect for the road.
For their machines.
Not to carry on
like damned fools.
Any idea where
we might find Tommy?
♪ ♪
So, what did
you get up to last night?
Wouldn't you like to know?
Well, yes, Tommy,
I would.
Hence you being
in this station.
Couple of pubs.
(exhales)
Couple of ladies.
Cross paths with Carl Taylor?
No.
And no, I didn't kill him.
WILL:
You didn't like him
very much.
Cocky bugger.
Belting would
have done him good.
You like fighting,
don't you?
Why?
You asking?
WILL:
You look at motorcycle clubs
and see an excuse
for a punch-up.
You're just
as soft as the Crows.
Yeah, you had a fight
with them up at King's Lynn.
And again before the race.
Maybe you held a grudge.
After Carl overtook and beat
you, you must've been furious.
(snorts)
Yeah, did you find
Carl drinking at the track?
Or did you invite
him there?
He was drawing in his sketch
book when you hit him.
What?
Used something large and heavy--
a bottle, maybe.
Or a crowbar.
(scoffs)
This is ridiculous.
No, this is a murder charge,
Tommy.
This is as serious as it gets.
I'm from Newmarket.
Out of your jurisdiction.
That's not
how it works, son.
You're in Cambridge.
You're on my patch.
Well, I didn't do it!
I never saw him!
You don't know
your arse from your elbow,
so why should we
believe you?
You can believe
my landlady.
She had her hands all over me.
We were playing board games.
You know who I blame?
The parents.
Night in the cells
will be the most discipline
he's had in years.
And if it wasn't Tommy,
chances are
it was a fight over a girl,
or a bike.
Speaking of discipline,
can I pick your brains?
As a father?
Ernie?
I just want
to set a good example.
Be the father I never had.
And quite right.
(knock at door,
door opens)
Yes, Miss Scott.
DCI Wallace would
like a word.
Best make yourself scarce.
Oh, um, where's Carl's bike?
I can show you.
Had that a couple of years back?
Long service?
I did, yes.
By the end of the summer, you'll
qualify for early retirement.
(exhales):
Well, I suppose I will.
Mm.
You must be
looking forward to it.
I don't know,
I wasn't planning to...
I'll fully support you,
of course.
You've served with distinction.
Earned your rest.
Sir, have I done some...
We have to make way
for the youngsters
coming up the ranks.
Give you back
to your wife and kids, eh?
Let the sad sacks like me
work all the hours.
(door opens)
Christ on a bike, Will!
This is a morgue,
it's not a ruddy pit stop.
What the hell
are you thinking?
Can you stand back
from the petrol tank?
I don't want it to set fire
from your sunny disposition.
Sod off.
Anything to share?
No.
It's Elliot.
He's suggested it might
be time I consider retiring.
Oh. Okay.
"Oh, okay"?
This is all your bloody fault,
carrying on with his fiancée!
She made up her own mind
to leave him, a year ago!
He can't still
hold a grudge, surely.
Oh, it's personal.
Cheek of it!
Got years ahead of me.
Course you have.
Mm.
So you said no.
Too bloody right.
I will do.
I have put my life
into this station.
That stuck-up
pen-pushing halfwit's
only been here five minutes.
Yeah, tell him just like that.
He'll be putty in your hands.
So, what's the prognosis here?
Well, she is in
incredible condition.
Cleanest fuel lines
I've seen in years.
Perfect brakes.
But there is this.
You see that line?
Graphite's a conductor.
So you draw a thick
enough pencil line
over the porcelain
insulator...
You short the spark plug.
Hmm.
Now, Ron checked all the bikes
before the race, so it means
it must have happened between
arriving and starter's orders.
Carl checks his plug,
sees this, and then rubs off
just enough to get going.
So Carl would have
known it was sabotage.
Might have suspected someone,
gone after them for revenge.
Tommy certainly didn't
seem to care about a fair fight.
Jimmy, maybe?
Sabotaged his mate?
Or an over-protective Ron,
intervening on his son's behalf?
And the one
who showed up late.
Lightning.
Mm.
Carl didn't seem too happy
with him after the race.
Lightning didn't register,
so no records.
Leave it with me--
someone at the garage will know.
Don't worry about Elliot.
Just trying to rattle
your cage.
Will.
Get this out.
♪ ♪
(birds chirping)
LEONARD:
And we have a strict
no-alcohol policy.
Will!
Leonard-- I'm sorry,
I meant to call sooner.
Is this a good time?
Yes, of course-- Keith,
this is Mr. Davenport,
who very kindly ministers
here on Tuesdays.
Keith Pruitt.
Oh, bear with me, Will,
I'm just doing the speech.
Ah.
You're to keep your room tidy
and clean up after yourself.
Cupboards are for clothes,
shelves for books.
But ask me for anything.
My hope is that you'll learn
to take care for yourself,
and when you leave here,
you'll be ready
to face the world again.
(chuckles):
That all sounds wonderful.
I was in a bit of a tiz
about leaving, uh...
About... About...
It's okay to say prison.
It took me a while, too.
It's something we discuss
in Thursday's meetings.
Winston, would you kindly
take Keith to his room?
WINSTON:
Certainly.
Come with me.
Thank you,
it was kind of you.
So how many's that now?
Keith is number four.
Our first alcoholic.
Former alcoholic.
It's incredible,
a halfway house like this.
DANIEL:
Run for your life, Will!
Although I suppose a lot
of deep and meaningful chats
about, uh, "God's place
in the lives of sinners"
is right up your street.
Oh, throw in
some popcorn and beer,
and you've got the makings
of a perfect night!
Don't linger too long.
I just came to say hello
and now I'm hanging doors.
Of which I'm very appreciative!
The reason
I wanted your help...
There have been complaints,
from neighbors.
"Ex-cons loitering
on the street."
I don't want it to be over
before it's even begun.
What can I do?
An open letter,
to the papers,
accentuating the positives.
A respected, married
man of the cloth
in our corner could do wonders.
Consider it done.
I owe you for this.
Oh, nonsense.
Unless you have any
tips for disciplining
a seven-year-old boy.
RON:
Young'uns need structure.
To know what's expected of 'em.
I might've been a bit
hard on Jimmy sometimes,
but since his mum passed,
I, uh, didn't want him to dwell.
Wanted to show him
what he could be.
Hm.
You didn't call by
just for advice.
That rider, Lightning,
did you recognize him?
No, I did not.
That's probably another
one of those Newmarket louts.
Could it have been someone here?
I only know the ones
into their engines.
Others are into the music,
the scene.
(car horn honking)
Back in a minute.
(clears throat)
(door opens)
(people talking outside)
(clanging)
♪ ♪
(Geordie sighs)
What's this?
It's a leaderboard-- the bikers
at Ron's were marking up
who did a ton.
Bloody hell.
Doing 100 mile an hour
on a public road isn't a goal.
It's a death wish.
They were keeping score.
Lightning did a ton
on the Duxford Road
on a Triumph Tiger.
Here's the gang
on their ride down
to King's Lynn,
with two Triumph Tigers.
MISS SCOTT:
This one's registered
to a Ralph Thompson.
But don't get your hopes up--
I recognize the name.
He was drunk in the cells
all last night,
not breaking heads in a field.
And the other one?
MISS SCOTT:
A Howard Kidman of
Northampton Street, Cambridge.
Great.
(knocking)
Mr. Kidman!
Open up, police.
He might not be in.
(engine puttering, children
playing in background)
(dog barking in distance)
(motorcycle engine revving)
Bingo.
(car doors shutting)
Howard Kidman?
Hey, hey!
(grunts)
Oh!
(sighs)
Howard Kidman,
just the man we're looking for.
You sure about that?
♪ ♪
Stephanie Kidman.
The bike's registered
in your father's name.
He let me do it up.
Mm-hmm, does he know
you race it on public roads?
Risking innocent lives?
Does he know you dress up
as a fella called "Lightning?"
(mockingly):
Are you gonna tell my dad?
(chuckling)
Does he know you're the suspect
in the murder of Carl Taylor?
I didn't kill him.
Did you sabotage his bike?
I'm not a cheat!
No, you just pretend
to be someone you're not!
Lightning's
got quite a reputation.
But not "Stephanie."
Because women can't compete.
Mm, it's such bollocks.
GEORDIE:
It's the rules.
Well, rules change, grandad;
now you tell me
what I can and can't do
when you've stripped the gearbox
of a Norton Model Seven
in under three hours, hm?
Who knew you were Lightning?
STEPHANIE:
Jimmy and Carl.
WILL:
They didn't mind?
Jimmy thought it was great.
Yeah, he collared
Ron's promoter after the race,
got him to consider me.
I'm on their radar.
And Carl?
Carl had Ron in his head.
You know, "Female riders
demean the sport." (scoffs)
So when you made Carl
fight for second place,
he threw his helmet at you.
And the rest.
Yeah, once he was loaded,
he really let rip.
Wanted to tell Ron,
get me kicked out the garage.
That must've made you angry.
Well, I didn't bloody kill him.
You meet him at the field,
hit him with a crowbar,
save your own skin.
No!
Why not?
♪ ♪
You don't care
what people think of you.
That's clear as day.
But you care what Carl thought.
You don't know a thing.
You learned
sign language for him.
You liked him,
didn't you?
I didn't want him dead, I...
Yeah, all right, I fancied him.
But just,
I wanted him to...
I wanted him
to see what I could do.
I wanted him to believe in me.
(sighs)
Are we done now, grandad?
♪ ♪
The attitude on that girl.
No role models,
that's the problem.
It's not her.
No, she was in love with him.
You ever heard of
a crime of passion?
Anyway, what possesses you lot
to ride around like nutters
in the first place?
I find it calming,
actually-- freeing.
When I'm riding,
it's just me in control.
Whatever else is going on,
whatever in life I can't
control, I have that moment.
You looked really calm
riding into that bale of hay.
(knock on door)
Apparently, I'm now
subcontracted to the diocese.
Message for Mr. Davenport.
"Assistance needed
"at the halfway house
on Bosnor Street.
Detective Inspector Keating
is not required.
(footsteps retreating)
KEITH:
Sod the lot of ya!
Every last one!
LEONARD: Please, Keith,
just give me the...
Hey, hey, hey, what's going on?
Thank goodness,
we didn't know who to turn to.
You sods don't know a thing
about me,
none of you do!
Keith, Keith!
Take it easy.
I don't care if you're a vicar.
You can take
a running jump an' all!
This is becoming
a police matter.
And have him sent
straight back to prison?
What are you saying?!
WILL:
Keith, Keith, look at me.
Look at me.
Now how about we go inside,
you can tell me all about it.
Eh? All about you.
Hm?
How about we
put the bottle down
and talk through everything?
Talk, talk, talk.
It's all you lot wanna do.
You need to shut up and listen!
The world doesn't need
any more talking!
Give me that bottle.
(glass shatters)
(grunts)
WILL:
Damn it!
(thuds, grunts)
He has to go.
We can't have
someone that dangerous here.
LEONARD:
I think he's very much alone.
He's exactly the sort
of person we're here for.
Keith, are you okay, Keith?
(groaning)
It's all right.
(groaning)
(flips page)
(phone rings)
DI Keating.
CATHY (over phone):
Still at the office, then?
(chuckles)
(yawning):
Oh sorry, love,
uh, another hour tops.
Don't fret,
your spam fritters will keep.
How's it been?
Oh, you know...
Same-old, same-old.
I'll see you later.
Bye, love.
♪ ♪
(birds chirping, dogs barking)
BONNIE:
Will!
Look what Mrs. C found.
MRS. C:
It was going to waste,
tucked away
in Mrs. Bennett's attic.
Tucked away or interred?
I'm only trying to help.
No, no, I know, I didn't mean--
Have they caught him yet?
The biker murderer?
(Will exhales)
I don't trust
those awful rockers.
You cheered them on!
What have you done to your hand?
Have you been fighting?
Well, um, sometimes it's
important to take a stand,
for what you believe in.
And if necessary, take the hits.
I thought it was "necessary"
to "turn the other cheek."
BONNIE:
Look, I...
(carriage rattling and
squeaking)
(dog barking in distance)
(door creaking)
(quiet footsteps)
♪ ♪
Hey, what are you doing?
That's my jacket.
I don't want you to die!
Ernie, I'm...
You crashed.
And you grazed
your hand fighting.
I heard you say it.
Right I, I was helping...
And that nice man
who drew my picture...
He's dead too, isn't he?
He is; he died because someone
wanted to hurt him.
(sighs)
Whereas I've been risking myself
without even thinking.
Not about you,
that's for sure.
Maybe the last thing you need
is me riding around like--
well, your mum
would say "a bloody idiot."
Excuse your French.
Excuse my French--
but she's right.
(sighs)
Time to put away
childish things.
Consider the bike...
Retired?
(drops keys)
...on holiday.
A long holiday.
You know,
I usually am right.
However, we don't mess about
with other people's things
do we, Ern?
Whatever the reason.
There will be no more
Eagle comics this month.
BONNIE:
Aw.
He's such a brute.
But he's also correct.
All right,
off to bed with you mister.
(quietly):
Go on.
Ten points from
the Croydon jury of parenting.
This is what having
kids can make you do.
♪ ♪
Morning! So I've had a thought--
Yeah, just shelve it a second
and check my bleary eyes
aren't seeing things--
this last picture,
the only landscape.
What?
Mm.
So, soft lines,
it's a 5B, like the portraits.
But the landscape is harder.
It's an HB.
Someone else drew this
and wanted us to think Carl
was at the track when he died.
But he could've been
killed elsewhere and moved.
Right.
But shelve that a second.
We know Carl was at the party at
the garage with Ron and Jimmy.
But their alibis
for after the party,
they're hardly cast iron.
Ah, they were both pretty
shaken about Carl's death.
I know, and I didn't
want to think this of Ron,
but he checked all
the bikes before the race.
A race he would've done
anything for his son to win.
I think Ron
might have killed Carl.
WILL:
You love your son.
Course I do.
Makings of a fine young man,
if he can apply himself.
You do a lot for him.
Bikes, the training,
the promoter friend
from the Speedway.
Everything I do,
I do for my son.
Him and every one of the lads.
If Carl's bike hadn't stalled,
do you think
he could've beaten Jimmy?
There's a special
quality some riders have.
Perhaps one in a hundred.
A sixth sense for the track.
Carl had it.
And look what he did,
coming up from last place.
Your own lad,
up against that kind of talent.
That could push a father
to take action.
To intervene.
Spit it out, Detective.
You sabotaged Carl's bike.
You had the access,
the know-how.
Carl spotted it.
And maybe he confronted you
after the party at the garage,
and maybe
it got out of hand.
Absurd! And a bloody insult!
I loved that boy like a son.
You really did.
So Jimmy doesn't have that,
that "special quality"?
Jimmy has heart.
And dedication,
but not the talent.
You disagreed, about
girls like Stephanie riding.
How did you feel when
he petitioned
the promoter after the race?
He did what?
GEORDIE:
Jimmy asked for Stephanie
to be considered professionally.
She thinks
she's "on their radar."
Stupid bloody moron!
Who's he think he is,
going behind my back like that?
What, about her?!
Christ!
They're not in
the same league as Carl!
Jimmy won.
There was only one rider worth
watching in that damn race,
and he's dead now.
♪ ♪
Not the loving
father we first thought.
No, at least not to Jimmy.
♪ ♪
WILL:
When I was a boy, I wanted
to impress my dad so much.
No matter how hard I tried,
I always fell short.
"No son of mine,"
"too much of his mother in him,"
"constant disappointment."
I think you might
know how that feels.
Dad's tough, yeah.
But it's for my own good.
Cutting you with words
doesn't toughen you up,
it bleeds you out.
And it cuts even harder
when the affection you want
is given so
easily to someone else.
To Carl.
What, he was kind to him,
he helped him.
Being nice to one person isn't
a free pass for hurting another.
WILL:
Suddenly, you're racing
against Carl in a public event,
in front of a racing promoter.
If you lost, God knows
what your dad would say.
Yeah, I wouldn't blame a soul
for trying to level that field.
Or...
...just slow him down.
He almost won.
He did win.
(laughter)
(voiceover):
Second place
but all the glory.
Frank, mate.
I know that wasn't my
best race or anything,
but if you give us another
chance,
I know I can do it better.
(voiceover):
You know, I begged that promoter
fella to consider me.
He wanted Carl!
Everyone always wanted Carl!
If he'd just sod off to
art school,
like he was always banging on
about, then maybe...
Maybe your dad would notice you.
(crying)
Now that was great racing,
my boy!
(laughs)
JIMMY (voiceover):
By the time they'd
all gone home,
Dad was asleep with the TV.
I left him be
and started tidying up.
♪ ♪
(voiceover):
Carl knew what I'd done.
Dad was gonna find out,
I just...
(tools clanking)
(thuds)
(breathing heavily)
(wet thud)
You took his body and the
bottles over to the field
and you dumped him.
And added that last sketch
to throw us off the scent.
I'm sorry.
(crying):
I am so, so sorry.
(sobbing)
James Weller,
I'm arresting you
for the murder of Carl Taylor.
You do not have to say anything,
unless you wish to do so,
but what you say may
be given in evidence.
(cuffs locking)
Date of birth?
Eighth of September.
What you bringing him in for?
Jimmy's confessed.
No.
No, no, no.
What did you bloody do?
How could you?!
Get him back;
Larry, in my office.
Jimmy!
Why? Why didn't
you say something?
What's the matter with you--
you've got a voice, haven't you?
No one can
tell you anything, Dad!
I'm never good enough.
Never gonna win,
never gonna be better than Carl.
You look at me like I'm rubbish!
What's the matter with you?
Jimmy, you're my son.
You know it, in your bones,
you must know!
(whimpers)
Jimmy!
Jimmy...
(shouting):
Jimmy, I'm sorry!
♪ ♪
(birds chirping)
BONNIE (voiceover):
You're a great dad.
And you're not Ron.
You're learning.
I just, um, I don't want
my mistakes to affect Ernie.
Or this one.
I don't wanna be my dad.
You are never gonna be.
You're not gonna like this,
but I really think I have
to quit Tuesday's bible group.
Besides feeling
like a hypocrite,
there's a strong chance
I'm gonna kill Mrs. C
if she corrects me again.
Can we discuss this later,
please?
Ernie!
Get in here!
Challenge time, Ern.
We can't leave this room
until you've made us both laugh.
What have you got?
("Express Yourself Back Home"
by Rudy West & the Keys playing)
♪ Well the sun ain't shinin',
it's a dark and cloudy day ♪
(laughs)
Come on!
♪ Well the sun ain't shinin' ♪
♪ It's a dark and cloudy day ♪
(laughs)
♪ Well it might as well
storm... ♪
Do it the other way!
(song continues)
(laughing)
(phone ringing)
♪ Well she packed up her bags ♪
♪ And threw them on the 2:19 ♪
♪ Well she packed up her bags
and threw them on the 2:19 ♪
Vicarage?
Hello, Dad, how was your...
What? What? No, Dad, calm down.
I...
How bad?
Mum's had a stroke.
Congratulations, Keating.
Nice work with the biker thugs.
Thank you, sir.
You wanted a word?
Yeah.
I've been thinking about your
generous offer
of early retirement.
Having mulled on it,
I'm not ready to go.
Not yet.
I've still got a lot to give.
Hm.
Yeah, it's natural
to resist change.
To hold on to old views
of the world.
But it wasn't a choice.
I'm sure you understand.
♪ ♪
Thank you.
BONNIE:
I'll only be gone a week looking
after Nanna, okay?
She'll be right
as rain in no time.
You'll be here having
an adventure with Will.
Be like Dan Dare and Digby.
Go on, see you soon.
Don't make
this any more difficult.
What about your aunts?
Can't Cathy go?
Cathy and Dad'll kill each
other-- I'm happy to go.
You shouldn't have to,
you're seven months' pregnant.
Yes, pregnant--
not a porcelain doll.
Stop vicaring me!
I am not...
(sighs)
I am "husbanding" you.
A vicar would say
trust in God.
Which is of no bloody use.
Well, at least it gets
you out of Tuesday bible group.
You are such an arse!
I'm not an arse!
Stop making this about
the parish, or Ernie,
or you!
About me?
You're the one running
off at their beck and call.
Because they're my mum and dad.
Don't you get it?
(car door shuts)
(engine starts, gear shifts)
(birds chirping, engine revving)
(Will sighs)
♪ ♪
(keys jangle)
(engine roaring)
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
(engine roaring)
No!
(tires screech, thudding)
♪ ♪
(Will panting)
No, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, please, please!
Oh God please, please wake up!
Wake up!
(panting)
♪ ♪
(click)
♪ ♪
WILL:
Please hurry!
GEORDIE:
How fast were you going?
LARRY:
Chuck them in the van.
Bring them all in.
LEONARD:
On what grounds?
Because I say so.
You're nothing but a common
little thug.
Geordie's retiring.
So don't get cocky.
It's bad, isn't it?
(cell door slams)
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
ANNOUNCER:
Go to our website,
listen to our podcast,
watch video, and more.
To order this program,
visit ShopPBS.
"Masterpiece" is available
with PBS Passport
and on Amazon Prime Video.
♪ ♪
WILL:
No one is without sin.
Whatever we do, God loves us,
sins and all.
Will!
This changes everything.
WILL:
We are very different people.
I have faith and you don't.
ELLIOT:
How is it you hurt
everyone around you
and always come out unscathed?
(grunts)
GEORDIE:
You are better than this.
WILL:
Maybe I'm not as good
as you think.
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
(thunder claps)
(whimpers)
(click)
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
WILL:
When the knights of old
rode out on their steeds,
they upheld ideals of courage,
courtesy, and chivalry.
Of all the indignities!
Sh.
The steeds may have changed.
The young men before us
can still represent
those same ideals.
Though some of you
held less positive opinions
when you first heard their bikes
racing through the village.
But I ask you to
remember another biker
who rode in here four years ago,
full of bravado
and not always
enough common sense.
(congregation chuckles)
And in time,
you welcomed
me into this community.
There is no clearer
demonstration
of the noble values of
these bikers
than their participation in
today's charity motorbike race.
If you haven't got a ticket
yet,
Mrs. Davenport
still has a few spare.
All for a good cause.
Yeah, 'cause of me
thrashing your arse!
Like hell he will.
(giggling)
(congregation murmuring)
(clears throat)
(murmuring stops)
I ask that you join me
in a special prayer.
Oh God,
we dedicate ourselves
and our bikes to your service.
We vow to ride them
responsibly
and we thank you
for the promise of adventure,
the thrill of the open road.
(stifling laugh)
♪ ♪
BONNIE:
It was funny.
Mrs. C was about to have
a conniption in the aisle.
(chuckles)
WILL:
Thanks for coming.
(all greeting)
BONNIE:
Hello.
The Burnhams--
mention their dahlias.
Oh.
Mr. and Mrs. Burnham,
congratulations
on the dahlias.
MRS. BURNHAM:
What a rude man.
Their dahlias died.
That's the whole thing
with the Lowells.
Ah.
Mrs. Kirk, damp hands.
Ah.
BONNIE (hissing and exhaling):
Oof...
You are so good at this.
Spycraft.
It's all we talk about
at mother and baby group.
(muttering):
Here she comes.
Motorcycles
inside a church?
LEONARD:
You bring in cabbages
and marrows at
the Harvest Festival.
My cabbages don't leak
all over the flagstones.
Dish soap, it's the only thing
that'll shift it.
Mark my words.
What happened to your
resolution to be more accepting?
He may be a loving God,
but he has his limits.
Well, I think
it's very impressive.
I'm just sorry
I won't be at the race today.
How is the house?
Hoping to pop by tomorrow.
Please do.
I'm having a little trouble
with the neighbors.
We made a list!
I, uh, said we shouldn't have.
Joseph, Ruth, Silas...
Ezekiel!
Baby names--
you shouldn't have.
STEPHANIE:
I'm just saying, Jimmy,
if all vicars were like him,
I'd be here every week.
Steph.
What?
He's a right dreamboat.
(chuckles)
Leathers!
Inside a church!
JIMMY:
She hates you.
(giggles)
Look at this!
What's that?
(gasps)
WILL:
Wow.
He said the light on
the little man was so good,
he had to catch it.
BONNIE (gasps):
These are brilliant, Carl.
Brilliant.
No, they're more
than just doodles.
They're beautiful
drawings.
Show 'em your logo, Carl.
Hey, look at this.
(Stephanie chuckles)
Yeah, I said to Carl
we should have a team name,
if we ever get serious.
Cambridge Crows.
As the crows fly.
(laughing):
Hey.
Hey?
♪ ♪
Oi.
Ugh!
(chuckling)
You know, Mrs. Davenport,
we really must
have some decorum.
Oh, well, it's a bit late
for that.
(both chuckle)
You two get going.
I'll clear up here.
I'm sorry you can't come.
And miss tea
with the bishop's wife?
(chuckles)
It'll be a riot.
You should see Marion
after a couple of Earl Greys
and a custard cream.
Oh, there'll be other races.
There better be.
You're not allowed to win
unless I'm there.
Oh, not a chance.
This is my shot, eh, Ernie?
(both chanting):
Davenport! Davenport!
Davenport!
Raise some money,
not my blood pressure.
♪ ♪
ANNOUNCER (over speaker):
And if anyone comes away
from today
hoping to tune up their
own vehicle,
why not pop along to
the Weller Garage?
Ron Weller and Son offer great-
value repairs and tune-ups...
ESME:
I like her leather jacket.
No, you don't.
Oh, let her enjoy it.
Loads of girls are
into bikes these days.
One day, you could be
riding them.
(chuckles)
Oi, Brando.
See ya.
All right.
Oh, now, look at
all this.
Well done!
18 pounds
in ticket sales.
I just hope
everyone enjoys it.
Look what we found!
(kids cheering)
Well, you've won
that lot over.
Better day out
than we had as kids.
Better?
Some of us fought a war
so this lot
wouldn't have to
risk their lives.
(engines revving)
It's very noisy!
(engine revving)
Hey, listen to that.
Roars like your mum, Steve.
Bloody hooligans, as well.
They're hardly being...
TOMMY:
You call yourselves
the Cambridge Crows?
More like the Cambridge
Choir Boys, I reckon.
What you looking at,
butthead?
He ain't worth it,
Carl.
Sod off back
to Newmarket, Tommy.
Hey, let's keep it civil.
You Crows owe me
for the dent in my fender
the other weekend.
Oh, here we go.
Go on, spit it out.
What are you saying
to each other?
We start paying for every
stupid thing you do,
you'll be
a millionaire by Friday.
TOMMY:
We'll see how stupid I am when
you losers eat my dust
on the track.
Only thing you'll eat
is a five-knuckle sandwich.
(chuckles)
How'd you like
these knuckles, eh?
Simmer down!
(bikers shouting)
Enough! Enough!
You wanna race today?
You behave today.
Next time I see one
of you acting all tough,
you'll be walking home,
you clear?
Right then, bikes at the ready
in ten, and hop to it!
You and all, Jimmy.
And you, Carl.
GEORDIE:
Impressive.
Ron,
this is Geordie Keating.
Ron runs the local garage.
Ron Weller.
They've all got
the spirit of youth.
Just gotta focus it
sometimes.
(both chuckle)
GEORDIE:
So all this is your fault?
Well...
Right, best of luck.
You're gonna need it.
You know, all these
different riders,
different levels of skill.
I could still
work out handicaps.
You know, realign
start positions...
No, Ron, Ron,
it's for charity.
I know, I know, I know, I know.
Still, I got one of
my promoter pals
from my Speedway days
to pop along.
Frank!
This one's a vicar!
Nothing like a novelty act,
eh, Ron?
(both laugh)
I think I'm in
with a chance.
Yeah, well, miracles
are your forte, Vicar.
(chuckling)
(engines revving,
crowd cheering)
ANNOUNCER:
As you can see, the riders are
making their way to the start.
(exclaim)
Ah, now we have Cambridge's own
Jimmy Weller...
Oi, oi, no late additions!
Hop it!
It's for charity, Ron--
they love it!
IVY:
What's that on his helmet?
I think it's
a lightning flash.
Go on, then.
(engine roars, crowd cheers)
ANNOUNCER:
Who's gonna bring it home
to the rest of the riders?
A late entry, Lightning...
(engine struggling)
Very, very mysterious.
Newmarket's Tommy Wilson,
and Grantchester's own
Will Davenport.
(engines revving,
engine struggling)
Go!
ANNOUNCER:
And they're off.
(cheering)
(engine struggling)
Go on.
Oh, that poor boy!
CATHY:
What's happened to
Carl's bike?
(engine roaring)
(cheering)
♪ ♪
JACK:
Go on, Will.
Is he winning?
He only bloody is.
Go on, Will!
(engines roaring)
Oh, you spoke too soon.
Go on, son, that's it.
♪ ♪
The lad at the back's
doing very well.
Forget about him!
Will needs to get
a bloomin' move on!
(engines rumbling)
Here we go.
Open her up,
open her up there.
Keep your head down,
get down low,
there you go.
GEORDIE:
Come on, Will.
(cheering and exclaiming)
(Will yelping)
(all gasp)
(whimpers)
♪ ♪
(laughing)
You're all right,
then?
He's fine.
Can't corner for toffee,
mind.
(laughing):
I did it, Geordie.
Just now
when I tried to get up,
I made the noise.
What noise?
The noise you make
when you get out of a chair.
(laughs)
Sod off.
Get these moved.
(Ron and Will laughing)
(catching breath)
Move it.
I'm fine, I'm fine.
Oh, you silly boy.
Did you get hurt?
You're bleeding.
Nah, suit of armor on.
Who's winning?
JACK:
Jimmy's in front.
Who's this Lightning?
No idea.
(engines roaring)
(crowd cheering)
Oh, my stars!
Did you see that?
Come on, Carl!
Go on, lad.
Come on, Carl!
Wow!
(cheering and applauding)
There's only one lap left.
(engine revving)
♪ ♪
I can't watch, my heart!
Move your bottom, Carl!
(laughs)
(engines roaring)
(cheering)
Oh, my goodness,
he did it!
Oh, wow!
♪ ♪
(cheering)
MAN:
Come on, Carl!
(crowd cheering)
What a race!
Oh, Jack, all that excitement,
I think I did myself a mischief.
RON:
What a comeback!
That was racing--
that was racing!
ANNOUNCER:
...followed closely
by Carl Taylor,
who makes an astonishing
recovery
after a stalled start
to come in second.
Put your hands together...
My lad, my lad!
JIMMY:
Hey.
That was great!
(laughing, congratulating)
That was impressive.
Hey, cheers.
(laughing, moans):
Stop it!
So, all this time I thought
you wanted to be James Dean,
when really it was
Buster Keaton.
(chuckles)
Does this hurt?
No.
Mm.
(exclaims)
(gasps)
(sighs)
(laughing)
(sniffs)
You put the fear of God
into Ernie.
Oh, he's fine.
Mm.
Bet you're glad
you escaped all the drama.
Oh, sod off.
Three hours of
not crumbing on doilies
and "how best to serve God
and your parish"
instead of a day with my boys?
I don't even believe in God.
Or doilies.
Hm.
This little bugger was
kicking like Bobby Charlton.
Let me feel.
Oh, no, wait--
don't be so keen.
It's like you're
tuning in a wireless.
And no one really
believes in doilies.
(both chuckle)
(Dickens whining)
GEORDIE (on phone):
Yeah, as soon as you can, Will.
Right, right,
I'll meet you there.
Bonnie?
Have you seen my bike keys?
Geordie called--
something's happened.
Study?
On the nursery boxes?
Ernie...
Will!
Taking the bike out
for a spin?
I didn't do it!
(keys clatter)
What...
I-- excuse me!
(toast rack clatters)
It's fine, it's fine.
Ernie,
come back here right now!
(door slams)
Let him go.
Sterling support,
fellow parent.
No, seriously,
you need to be firmer.
He needs dad discipline,
too.
Could you...
'Cause of the...
Course.
(exhales)
(exhales)
(engine rumbling)
(wildlife chittering)
(motorcycle approaching,
engine stops)
What is it?
I'm so sorry, Will.
♪ ♪
LARRY:
Farmer heard bike noises
last night.
Found him first thing.
Looks like he had a party.
Bashed over the head,
I reckon.
(exhales)
(car approaching)
(brake engages, engine stops)
(people talking, music playing
in background)
It's the last thing he drew,
at the track last night.
Just before he was killed.
(music playing)
Geordie, I'll tell them.
(tools clanking)
♪ ♪
I saw him, just last night.
We'll need to inform
his family.
We are his family.
Carl was an orphan.
You okay, Dad?
Here, sit down.
I don't need to sit down.
GEORDIE:
When did you last see him?
Ten-ish,
last night.
We rode here after
the race for sarnies and beers
and became a bit
of a knees-up.
You were here?
Uh, the house
is 'round back.
Popped my head in,
clear 'em off home, and...
Then me and Jimmy
watched telly for a bit.
Did Carl leave on his own?
Yeah, he was the last to go.
WILL:
Did he say where he was going?
I, I figured his bedsit.
Dad!
It's those ruddy
Newmarket louts!
Tommy Wilson.
GEORDIE:
Yeah, what was that argy-bargy
all about before the race?
Couple of weekends back,
we did a run up to King's Lynn.
Chips on the beach,
you know?
Tommy and his mates
started on us.
A few punches were thrown.
Undisciplined thugs
is what they are.
I teach my boys
to have respect for the road.
For their machines.
Not to carry on
like damned fools.
Any idea where
we might find Tommy?
♪ ♪
So, what did
you get up to last night?
Wouldn't you like to know?
Well, yes, Tommy,
I would.
Hence you being
in this station.
Couple of pubs.
(exhales)
Couple of ladies.
Cross paths with Carl Taylor?
No.
And no, I didn't kill him.
WILL:
You didn't like him
very much.
Cocky bugger.
Belting would
have done him good.
You like fighting,
don't you?
Why?
You asking?
WILL:
You look at motorcycle clubs
and see an excuse
for a punch-up.
You're just
as soft as the Crows.
Yeah, you had a fight
with them up at King's Lynn.
And again before the race.
Maybe you held a grudge.
After Carl overtook and beat
you, you must've been furious.
(snorts)
Yeah, did you find
Carl drinking at the track?
Or did you invite
him there?
He was drawing in his sketch
book when you hit him.
What?
Used something large and heavy--
a bottle, maybe.
Or a crowbar.
(scoffs)
This is ridiculous.
No, this is a murder charge,
Tommy.
This is as serious as it gets.
I'm from Newmarket.
Out of your jurisdiction.
That's not
how it works, son.
You're in Cambridge.
You're on my patch.
Well, I didn't do it!
I never saw him!
You don't know
your arse from your elbow,
so why should we
believe you?
You can believe
my landlady.
She had her hands all over me.
We were playing board games.
You know who I blame?
The parents.
Night in the cells
will be the most discipline
he's had in years.
And if it wasn't Tommy,
chances are
it was a fight over a girl,
or a bike.
Speaking of discipline,
can I pick your brains?
As a father?
Ernie?
I just want
to set a good example.
Be the father I never had.
And quite right.
(knock at door,
door opens)
Yes, Miss Scott.
DCI Wallace would
like a word.
Best make yourself scarce.
Oh, um, where's Carl's bike?
I can show you.
Had that a couple of years back?
Long service?
I did, yes.
By the end of the summer, you'll
qualify for early retirement.
(exhales):
Well, I suppose I will.
Mm.
You must be
looking forward to it.
I don't know,
I wasn't planning to...
I'll fully support you,
of course.
You've served with distinction.
Earned your rest.
Sir, have I done some...
We have to make way
for the youngsters
coming up the ranks.
Give you back
to your wife and kids, eh?
Let the sad sacks like me
work all the hours.
(door opens)
Christ on a bike, Will!
This is a morgue,
it's not a ruddy pit stop.
What the hell
are you thinking?
Can you stand back
from the petrol tank?
I don't want it to set fire
from your sunny disposition.
Sod off.
Anything to share?
No.
It's Elliot.
He's suggested it might
be time I consider retiring.
Oh. Okay.
"Oh, okay"?
This is all your bloody fault,
carrying on with his fiancée!
She made up her own mind
to leave him, a year ago!
He can't still
hold a grudge, surely.
Oh, it's personal.
Cheek of it!
Got years ahead of me.
Course you have.
Mm.
So you said no.
Too bloody right.
I will do.
I have put my life
into this station.
That stuck-up
pen-pushing halfwit's
only been here five minutes.
Yeah, tell him just like that.
He'll be putty in your hands.
So, what's the prognosis here?
Well, she is in
incredible condition.
Cleanest fuel lines
I've seen in years.
Perfect brakes.
But there is this.
You see that line?
Graphite's a conductor.
So you draw a thick
enough pencil line
over the porcelain
insulator...
You short the spark plug.
Hmm.
Now, Ron checked all the bikes
before the race, so it means
it must have happened between
arriving and starter's orders.
Carl checks his plug,
sees this, and then rubs off
just enough to get going.
So Carl would have
known it was sabotage.
Might have suspected someone,
gone after them for revenge.
Tommy certainly didn't
seem to care about a fair fight.
Jimmy, maybe?
Sabotaged his mate?
Or an over-protective Ron,
intervening on his son's behalf?
And the one
who showed up late.
Lightning.
Mm.
Carl didn't seem too happy
with him after the race.
Lightning didn't register,
so no records.
Leave it with me--
someone at the garage will know.
Don't worry about Elliot.
Just trying to rattle
your cage.
Will.
Get this out.
♪ ♪
(birds chirping)
LEONARD:
And we have a strict
no-alcohol policy.
Will!
Leonard-- I'm sorry,
I meant to call sooner.
Is this a good time?
Yes, of course-- Keith,
this is Mr. Davenport,
who very kindly ministers
here on Tuesdays.
Keith Pruitt.
Oh, bear with me, Will,
I'm just doing the speech.
Ah.
You're to keep your room tidy
and clean up after yourself.
Cupboards are for clothes,
shelves for books.
But ask me for anything.
My hope is that you'll learn
to take care for yourself,
and when you leave here,
you'll be ready
to face the world again.
(chuckles):
That all sounds wonderful.
I was in a bit of a tiz
about leaving, uh...
About... About...
It's okay to say prison.
It took me a while, too.
It's something we discuss
in Thursday's meetings.
Winston, would you kindly
take Keith to his room?
WINSTON:
Certainly.
Come with me.
Thank you,
it was kind of you.
So how many's that now?
Keith is number four.
Our first alcoholic.
Former alcoholic.
It's incredible,
a halfway house like this.
DANIEL:
Run for your life, Will!
Although I suppose a lot
of deep and meaningful chats
about, uh, "God's place
in the lives of sinners"
is right up your street.
Oh, throw in
some popcorn and beer,
and you've got the makings
of a perfect night!
Don't linger too long.
I just came to say hello
and now I'm hanging doors.
Of which I'm very appreciative!
The reason
I wanted your help...
There have been complaints,
from neighbors.
"Ex-cons loitering
on the street."
I don't want it to be over
before it's even begun.
What can I do?
An open letter,
to the papers,
accentuating the positives.
A respected, married
man of the cloth
in our corner could do wonders.
Consider it done.
I owe you for this.
Oh, nonsense.
Unless you have any
tips for disciplining
a seven-year-old boy.
RON:
Young'uns need structure.
To know what's expected of 'em.
I might've been a bit
hard on Jimmy sometimes,
but since his mum passed,
I, uh, didn't want him to dwell.
Wanted to show him
what he could be.
Hm.
You didn't call by
just for advice.
That rider, Lightning,
did you recognize him?
No, I did not.
That's probably another
one of those Newmarket louts.
Could it have been someone here?
I only know the ones
into their engines.
Others are into the music,
the scene.
(car horn honking)
Back in a minute.
(clears throat)
(door opens)
(people talking outside)
(clanging)
♪ ♪
(Geordie sighs)
What's this?
It's a leaderboard-- the bikers
at Ron's were marking up
who did a ton.
Bloody hell.
Doing 100 mile an hour
on a public road isn't a goal.
It's a death wish.
They were keeping score.
Lightning did a ton
on the Duxford Road
on a Triumph Tiger.
Here's the gang
on their ride down
to King's Lynn,
with two Triumph Tigers.
MISS SCOTT:
This one's registered
to a Ralph Thompson.
But don't get your hopes up--
I recognize the name.
He was drunk in the cells
all last night,
not breaking heads in a field.
And the other one?
MISS SCOTT:
A Howard Kidman of
Northampton Street, Cambridge.
Great.
(knocking)
Mr. Kidman!
Open up, police.
He might not be in.
(engine puttering, children
playing in background)
(dog barking in distance)
(motorcycle engine revving)
Bingo.
(car doors shutting)
Howard Kidman?
Hey, hey!
(grunts)
Oh!
(sighs)
Howard Kidman,
just the man we're looking for.
You sure about that?
♪ ♪
Stephanie Kidman.
The bike's registered
in your father's name.
He let me do it up.
Mm-hmm, does he know
you race it on public roads?
Risking innocent lives?
Does he know you dress up
as a fella called "Lightning?"
(mockingly):
Are you gonna tell my dad?
(chuckling)
Does he know you're the suspect
in the murder of Carl Taylor?
I didn't kill him.
Did you sabotage his bike?
I'm not a cheat!
No, you just pretend
to be someone you're not!
Lightning's
got quite a reputation.
But not "Stephanie."
Because women can't compete.
Mm, it's such bollocks.
GEORDIE:
It's the rules.
Well, rules change, grandad;
now you tell me
what I can and can't do
when you've stripped the gearbox
of a Norton Model Seven
in under three hours, hm?
Who knew you were Lightning?
STEPHANIE:
Jimmy and Carl.
WILL:
They didn't mind?
Jimmy thought it was great.
Yeah, he collared
Ron's promoter after the race,
got him to consider me.
I'm on their radar.
And Carl?
Carl had Ron in his head.
You know, "Female riders
demean the sport." (scoffs)
So when you made Carl
fight for second place,
he threw his helmet at you.
And the rest.
Yeah, once he was loaded,
he really let rip.
Wanted to tell Ron,
get me kicked out the garage.
That must've made you angry.
Well, I didn't bloody kill him.
You meet him at the field,
hit him with a crowbar,
save your own skin.
No!
Why not?
♪ ♪
You don't care
what people think of you.
That's clear as day.
But you care what Carl thought.
You don't know a thing.
You learned
sign language for him.
You liked him,
didn't you?
I didn't want him dead, I...
Yeah, all right, I fancied him.
But just,
I wanted him to...
I wanted him
to see what I could do.
I wanted him to believe in me.
(sighs)
Are we done now, grandad?
♪ ♪
The attitude on that girl.
No role models,
that's the problem.
It's not her.
No, she was in love with him.
You ever heard of
a crime of passion?
Anyway, what possesses you lot
to ride around like nutters
in the first place?
I find it calming,
actually-- freeing.
When I'm riding,
it's just me in control.
Whatever else is going on,
whatever in life I can't
control, I have that moment.
You looked really calm
riding into that bale of hay.
(knock on door)
Apparently, I'm now
subcontracted to the diocese.
Message for Mr. Davenport.
"Assistance needed
"at the halfway house
on Bosnor Street.
Detective Inspector Keating
is not required.
(footsteps retreating)
KEITH:
Sod the lot of ya!
Every last one!
LEONARD: Please, Keith,
just give me the...
Hey, hey, hey, what's going on?
Thank goodness,
we didn't know who to turn to.
You sods don't know a thing
about me,
none of you do!
Keith, Keith!
Take it easy.
I don't care if you're a vicar.
You can take
a running jump an' all!
This is becoming
a police matter.
And have him sent
straight back to prison?
What are you saying?!
WILL:
Keith, Keith, look at me.
Look at me.
Now how about we go inside,
you can tell me all about it.
Eh? All about you.
Hm?
How about we
put the bottle down
and talk through everything?
Talk, talk, talk.
It's all you lot wanna do.
You need to shut up and listen!
The world doesn't need
any more talking!
Give me that bottle.
(glass shatters)
(grunts)
WILL:
Damn it!
(thuds, grunts)
He has to go.
We can't have
someone that dangerous here.
LEONARD:
I think he's very much alone.
He's exactly the sort
of person we're here for.
Keith, are you okay, Keith?
(groaning)
It's all right.
(groaning)
(flips page)
(phone rings)
DI Keating.
CATHY (over phone):
Still at the office, then?
(chuckles)
(yawning):
Oh sorry, love,
uh, another hour tops.
Don't fret,
your spam fritters will keep.
How's it been?
Oh, you know...
Same-old, same-old.
I'll see you later.
Bye, love.
♪ ♪
(birds chirping, dogs barking)
BONNIE:
Will!
Look what Mrs. C found.
MRS. C:
It was going to waste,
tucked away
in Mrs. Bennett's attic.
Tucked away or interred?
I'm only trying to help.
No, no, I know, I didn't mean--
Have they caught him yet?
The biker murderer?
(Will exhales)
I don't trust
those awful rockers.
You cheered them on!
What have you done to your hand?
Have you been fighting?
Well, um, sometimes it's
important to take a stand,
for what you believe in.
And if necessary, take the hits.
I thought it was "necessary"
to "turn the other cheek."
BONNIE:
Look, I...
(carriage rattling and
squeaking)
(dog barking in distance)
(door creaking)
(quiet footsteps)
♪ ♪
Hey, what are you doing?
That's my jacket.
I don't want you to die!
Ernie, I'm...
You crashed.
And you grazed
your hand fighting.
I heard you say it.
Right I, I was helping...
And that nice man
who drew my picture...
He's dead too, isn't he?
He is; he died because someone
wanted to hurt him.
(sighs)
Whereas I've been risking myself
without even thinking.
Not about you,
that's for sure.
Maybe the last thing you need
is me riding around like--
well, your mum
would say "a bloody idiot."
Excuse your French.
Excuse my French--
but she's right.
(sighs)
Time to put away
childish things.
Consider the bike...
Retired?
(drops keys)
...on holiday.
A long holiday.
You know,
I usually am right.
However, we don't mess about
with other people's things
do we, Ern?
Whatever the reason.
There will be no more
Eagle comics this month.
BONNIE:
Aw.
He's such a brute.
But he's also correct.
All right,
off to bed with you mister.
(quietly):
Go on.
Ten points from
the Croydon jury of parenting.
This is what having
kids can make you do.
♪ ♪
Morning! So I've had a thought--
Yeah, just shelve it a second
and check my bleary eyes
aren't seeing things--
this last picture,
the only landscape.
What?
Mm.
So, soft lines,
it's a 5B, like the portraits.
But the landscape is harder.
It's an HB.
Someone else drew this
and wanted us to think Carl
was at the track when he died.
But he could've been
killed elsewhere and moved.
Right.
But shelve that a second.
We know Carl was at the party at
the garage with Ron and Jimmy.
But their alibis
for after the party,
they're hardly cast iron.
Ah, they were both pretty
shaken about Carl's death.
I know, and I didn't
want to think this of Ron,
but he checked all
the bikes before the race.
A race he would've done
anything for his son to win.
I think Ron
might have killed Carl.
WILL:
You love your son.
Course I do.
Makings of a fine young man,
if he can apply himself.
You do a lot for him.
Bikes, the training,
the promoter friend
from the Speedway.
Everything I do,
I do for my son.
Him and every one of the lads.
If Carl's bike hadn't stalled,
do you think
he could've beaten Jimmy?
There's a special
quality some riders have.
Perhaps one in a hundred.
A sixth sense for the track.
Carl had it.
And look what he did,
coming up from last place.
Your own lad,
up against that kind of talent.
That could push a father
to take action.
To intervene.
Spit it out, Detective.
You sabotaged Carl's bike.
You had the access,
the know-how.
Carl spotted it.
And maybe he confronted you
after the party at the garage,
and maybe
it got out of hand.
Absurd! And a bloody insult!
I loved that boy like a son.
You really did.
So Jimmy doesn't have that,
that "special quality"?
Jimmy has heart.
And dedication,
but not the talent.
You disagreed, about
girls like Stephanie riding.
How did you feel when
he petitioned
the promoter after the race?
He did what?
GEORDIE:
Jimmy asked for Stephanie
to be considered professionally.
She thinks
she's "on their radar."
Stupid bloody moron!
Who's he think he is,
going behind my back like that?
What, about her?!
Christ!
They're not in
the same league as Carl!
Jimmy won.
There was only one rider worth
watching in that damn race,
and he's dead now.
♪ ♪
Not the loving
father we first thought.
No, at least not to Jimmy.
♪ ♪
WILL:
When I was a boy, I wanted
to impress my dad so much.
No matter how hard I tried,
I always fell short.
"No son of mine,"
"too much of his mother in him,"
"constant disappointment."
I think you might
know how that feels.
Dad's tough, yeah.
But it's for my own good.
Cutting you with words
doesn't toughen you up,
it bleeds you out.
And it cuts even harder
when the affection you want
is given so
easily to someone else.
To Carl.
What, he was kind to him,
he helped him.
Being nice to one person isn't
a free pass for hurting another.
WILL:
Suddenly, you're racing
against Carl in a public event,
in front of a racing promoter.
If you lost, God knows
what your dad would say.
Yeah, I wouldn't blame a soul
for trying to level that field.
Or...
...just slow him down.
He almost won.
He did win.
(laughter)
(voiceover):
Second place
but all the glory.
Frank, mate.
I know that wasn't my
best race or anything,
but if you give us another
chance,
I know I can do it better.
(voiceover):
You know, I begged that promoter
fella to consider me.
He wanted Carl!
Everyone always wanted Carl!
If he'd just sod off to
art school,
like he was always banging on
about, then maybe...
Maybe your dad would notice you.
(crying)
Now that was great racing,
my boy!
(laughs)
JIMMY (voiceover):
By the time they'd
all gone home,
Dad was asleep with the TV.
I left him be
and started tidying up.
♪ ♪
(voiceover):
Carl knew what I'd done.
Dad was gonna find out,
I just...
(tools clanking)
(thuds)
(breathing heavily)
(wet thud)
You took his body and the
bottles over to the field
and you dumped him.
And added that last sketch
to throw us off the scent.
I'm sorry.
(crying):
I am so, so sorry.
(sobbing)
James Weller,
I'm arresting you
for the murder of Carl Taylor.
You do not have to say anything,
unless you wish to do so,
but what you say may
be given in evidence.
(cuffs locking)
Date of birth?
Eighth of September.
What you bringing him in for?
Jimmy's confessed.
No.
No, no, no.
What did you bloody do?
How could you?!
Get him back;
Larry, in my office.
Jimmy!
Why? Why didn't
you say something?
What's the matter with you--
you've got a voice, haven't you?
No one can
tell you anything, Dad!
I'm never good enough.
Never gonna win,
never gonna be better than Carl.
You look at me like I'm rubbish!
What's the matter with you?
Jimmy, you're my son.
You know it, in your bones,
you must know!
(whimpers)
Jimmy!
Jimmy...
(shouting):
Jimmy, I'm sorry!
♪ ♪
(birds chirping)
BONNIE (voiceover):
You're a great dad.
And you're not Ron.
You're learning.
I just, um, I don't want
my mistakes to affect Ernie.
Or this one.
I don't wanna be my dad.
You are never gonna be.
You're not gonna like this,
but I really think I have
to quit Tuesday's bible group.
Besides feeling
like a hypocrite,
there's a strong chance
I'm gonna kill Mrs. C
if she corrects me again.
Can we discuss this later,
please?
Ernie!
Get in here!
Challenge time, Ern.
We can't leave this room
until you've made us both laugh.
What have you got?
("Express Yourself Back Home"
by Rudy West & the Keys playing)
♪ Well the sun ain't shinin',
it's a dark and cloudy day ♪
(laughs)
Come on!
♪ Well the sun ain't shinin' ♪
♪ It's a dark and cloudy day ♪
(laughs)
♪ Well it might as well
storm... ♪
Do it the other way!
(song continues)
(laughing)
(phone ringing)
♪ Well she packed up her bags ♪
♪ And threw them on the 2:19 ♪
♪ Well she packed up her bags
and threw them on the 2:19 ♪
Vicarage?
Hello, Dad, how was your...
What? What? No, Dad, calm down.
I...
How bad?
Mum's had a stroke.
Congratulations, Keating.
Nice work with the biker thugs.
Thank you, sir.
You wanted a word?
Yeah.
I've been thinking about your
generous offer
of early retirement.
Having mulled on it,
I'm not ready to go.
Not yet.
I've still got a lot to give.
Hm.
Yeah, it's natural
to resist change.
To hold on to old views
of the world.
But it wasn't a choice.
I'm sure you understand.
♪ ♪
Thank you.
BONNIE:
I'll only be gone a week looking
after Nanna, okay?
She'll be right
as rain in no time.
You'll be here having
an adventure with Will.
Be like Dan Dare and Digby.
Go on, see you soon.
Don't make
this any more difficult.
What about your aunts?
Can't Cathy go?
Cathy and Dad'll kill each
other-- I'm happy to go.
You shouldn't have to,
you're seven months' pregnant.
Yes, pregnant--
not a porcelain doll.
Stop vicaring me!
I am not...
(sighs)
I am "husbanding" you.
A vicar would say
trust in God.
Which is of no bloody use.
Well, at least it gets
you out of Tuesday bible group.
You are such an arse!
I'm not an arse!
Stop making this about
the parish, or Ernie,
or you!
About me?
You're the one running
off at their beck and call.
Because they're my mum and dad.
Don't you get it?
(car door shuts)
(engine starts, gear shifts)
(birds chirping, engine revving)
(Will sighs)
♪ ♪
(keys jangle)
(engine roaring)
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
(engine roaring)
No!
(tires screech, thudding)
♪ ♪
(Will panting)
No, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, please, please!
Oh God please, please wake up!
Wake up!
(panting)
♪ ♪
(click)
♪ ♪
WILL:
Please hurry!
GEORDIE:
How fast were you going?
LARRY:
Chuck them in the van.
Bring them all in.
LEONARD:
On what grounds?
Because I say so.
You're nothing but a common
little thug.
Geordie's retiring.
So don't get cocky.
It's bad, isn't it?
(cell door slams)
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
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♪ ♪