*CREDITS*
Oh, you're getting much better, Reverend.
How about we play for something more meaningful?
I think I've got a few pennies.
No, I couldn't take money from a man of the cloth!
If I win, that top of yours comes off.
If you lose, mine does!
Ida. We've talked about you getting too excited.
The other residents are enjoying their quiet time.
Yes, Matron.
Good morning, bunny hoppers!
It's time to get up and jive! Yee-ha!
Clem Preston! Stop this at once!
Open this door. You're upsetting the other residents!
Did I ever tell you about the time that I invented the Turkey Trot?
Course, they'll have you believe it's an American invention,
but then they'll have you believe anything.
Open this door, Mr Preston, right this instant!
Mr Wyndham, your keys, please.
Clem, I think it might be time to open up.
I don't think so, Reverend.
Fortune favours the bold!
You have a stout, but not unimpressive posterior,
Matron Fletcher.
Mr Preston, you have embarrassed yourself.
In front of the staff here, the other residents,
- and now the vicar as well. - The vicar's a young man, I...
You've as likely overexcited yourself...
just like the summer fair.
D'you remember the mess you made of yourself
in front of the whole home?
And how many of us it took to clean you up?
You don't wanna be seen like that by everyone again, do you?
Please escort Mr Preston back to his room.
Was that really necessary?
You'd have me tolerate insubordination, Mr Davenport?
No, but the manner in which we talk to people...
Not so long ago, St Cedd's was a workhouse,
yet today our residents have warm beds, sinks in every room
and a communal television.
They are very lucky.
I expect the courtesy of discipline in return.
As, I've no doubt, would you.
She treated him like a child.
It was demeaning!
Getting old is demeaning.
Those places are meant to be supportive.
You know in my day, you were born at home and you died at home.
If nothing else, it was convenient for visitors.
I know a bully when I see one.
You planning to do something about it this afternoon?
Well, no.
Good. Pass me the greaseproof paper. They'll be here in a minute.
Hey, kids! Packed a picnic for the fishing trip!
Yay!
Where's Cathy?
She, er, she had a union thing.
- And Esme? - No.
Can I... help with that?
I don't know. Is this inappropriate for a kind, grieving widow, too?
I'm sorry...
about the other night. I didn't mean to upset you.
I was an idiot.
I like you, a lot.
But I'm not looking for anything, with anyone.
I am in need of a friend. I think we're good at that.
Lucky for you, some of my best friends are idiots.
- Life's complicated enough, right? - Exactly!
We've only got seven welly boots, but there are eight feet.
Don't worry, Will's got a saw,
we just need a volunteer who likes hopping.
I didn't think you'd come back here.
I've left Elliot.
What?
I told him everything. The wedding's off.
Wow!
What happened?
I realised I've been living the life my parents wanted...
..the life Elliot wanted.
I wanna live unexpectedly...
get on that bike of yours and drive.
Rome, Paris...
You know, in Sweden they're letting women train as priests.
Oh, I'm not sure I can just...
run away now.
It's running towards.
Towards a new future, one we get to write.
Say the word, and we can be in Florence in a week.
Vicarage?
Get yourself down to St Cedd's care home. Pronto.
You told me the matron here was a bully.
Well, she seems a little... domineering.
Why, has she done something?
No.
Someone's done for her.
Boss, according to the staff, this room belongs to a Clem Preston.
Clem?
They found the pillows dressed as a body.
He's done a runner in the night.
Not only Mr Preston. Just done a head count.
Two of the residents are missing.
Clem Preston and...
Ida Merryman.
There's no sign of forced entry on the main doors and nothing missing,
- so not a robbery gone wrong. - Did she have any relatives?
There's no husband. She lived in a flat on site.
That smells like corn.
- Could she have been poisoned? - Ah, we'll test it.
- So, she falls and hits her head here... - Or she was pushed.
By a pair of septuagenarians?
Well, you said yourself, Clem was a trouble maker.
Oh, Clem played loud music. On that basis, the next suspect's Esme.
Plenty of clothes still here, so they didn't pack for a big trip,
so why run?
Well, they'd witnessed a killing, or they were scared?
Or... taken hostage?
But in any case, I'm more concerned they'll do themselves a mischief
than harm anyone else. Clem doesn't strike me as a killer.
We've searched the meadows. Nothing, sir.
OK.
We've put out a county-wide alert.
Uniform are checking cafes and parks nearby. They can't have gone far.
- You put together a picture of what happened last night? - A start of one.
- Mm-hm. - All residents accounted for at 8pm yesterday.
Matron was definitely alive.
Day shift turn up at eight to wake everyone, start breakfast.
That's when they found her.
Eight last night to eight this morning,
it's hardly narrowing it down.
Except someone heard a bang just after 9pm,
thought it was the water pipes.
Anyone else verify that?
Not yet.
See if you can track down any relatives for Clem and Ida,
anyone they'd go to.
Boss.
- These places give me the creeps. - I think it's nice,
having somewhere and someone to look after you.
You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth
and Mrs C still makes your bed, of course you like it.
- Pat. - Ah!
- This is Inspector Keating. - Ah.
Pat Wyndham, he's the handyman here.
I'm sorry. This all must be quite a shock.
You worked here long?
Oh, a couple of years now. It was the Matron gave me this break.
Er, were you here around nine o'clock last night?
No, I'm off at eight each day.
How easy is it for the residents to get out of here?
We get a few wandering off the grounds, but never very far.
They don't have it in 'em.
Could Clem have had anything to do with the Matron's death?
You've seen 'em clash. He's a feisty bugger, but not dangerous.
Was there anyone else who might've taken issue with her?
Family of the residents, other staff?
I don't think so.
She could be very strict, very firm.
Hell, you would not wanna cross her. But people felt safe.
It's like a family here. Please find Clem and Ida,
before anything happens to them.
Wait, Geordie, I think there's something you should know.
Maya?!
Bloody hell! Casanova!
Well, that's the boss cheesed off for a year.
So, what did you say to her?
- I said that it's a lot to take in. - Mm-hm.
But it has to be a "no" obviously. Same reason I said "no" to Bonnie.
Oi! Bonnie is not the same. You behave around her.
I am! We're just friends. I'm swearing off women.
Oh, bollocks you are!
What's happened is it's all got a bit too real.
When you couldn't have Maya, it was a fantasy.
Now you can and you're terrified.
And no wonder! What'd you even know about her?
I know plenty.
You know nothing. It's just lust.
- Relationships take a bit more graft, Will. - Oh, that is rich!
What have you done to win Cathy back since the cornflower debacle?
That was not a debacle.
You are waiting for her, like it's just a phase, but it's not.
Cathy is changing and you have no idea how to handle that.
Oh, wonderful assessment, Dr Kinsey,
but it's not the notches on your bed, it's the miles on your clock.
You've never got out of the driveway.
And you're broken down on the A1.
Pathologist's report's in.
Impact to the head killed her. Matches the sink.
There's no other bruising, no other marks.
So she could've fallen?
Yeah, but you don't run away if someone slips over.
Results are in.
The liquid in those two glasses, it's not poison, it's moonshine.
A real blue flame special, according to the lab boys.
I think they'd rather fancy a bottle if you find it.
First we've gotta find out who's brewing it.
Maybe they're involved?
Also, I've been doing some digging.
St Cedd's didn't have any records for the next-of-kin for Clem Preston
but the home deals with the Court of Protection a lot,
and his name pops up there.
His guardianship was being changed due to mental incapacity.
The Matron named instead of his daughter, Clara Preston.
Clem was hardly incapable.
His signature's on here.
Maybe he gave his money to the Matron.
His daughter finds out, confronts them both, kills Fletcher,
runs off with Dad.
- By the way, your wife popped in earlier. - What, for me?
No, actually for me. A bit of a unity in the sisterhood chat.
Hm.
But she did ask if you could knock off early.
Why, she wants to meet?
No, actually, it's a union thing...
Oh, rattling tins on streets is no concern of mine, comrade.
Make yourself useful and track down that daughter.
There might be someone else at the home
who knows about these guardianship claims.
What is that man doing here?
Elliot, I-I am so sorry,
- I will leave... - That's DCI Wallace to you.
Get the hell out of here!
Go, I'll catch up.
What's the point of that man's presence, Keating?
Character witness, murder case.
Bloody interfering amateur.
We don't need any Father Brown bollocks, not in my station.
Apologies, sir.
Will, he doesn't mean to step on any toes.
He can be an idiot, but he's a-he's a good man.
It's funny, isn't it, how this life can look exciting from the outside?
- You're married. - Yeah.
It's not an easy life for her, I imagine.
- She puts up with a lot. - More than she should.
You're right, it was exciting at the start.
Important job. Fight the good fight.
But the hours are hard. You don't bring home enough.
Well, what you do bring home is a head full of bad thoughts.
Perhaps it's just too much to ask of them.
Sighting of the old couple!
The ravens guard the Tower, the white cliffs shine in Dover,
and Mrs C Vims the sink.
I don't need a fuss.
It's all gonna be OK.
I've decided, I'm not gonna go through with the treatment.
Look, I can't imagine how scary this illness is,
but you can't just give up like this!
This is not giving up.
Do you know what they'll do to me? What it involves?
We'll get through it, together.
I don't have to do this if I don't want to. I've had my time.
And you've plenty of time left. We will all be with you.
God will be with you.
God is not there for me any more.
Mrs C, you are a good, Christian woman...
You're just a boy...
trying to tell us all how to live.
Fogeys are long gone.
They held up Mr Bloom here and made off with his silver Jensen Saloon.
Clem and Ida?
Matches the description, old fella with a cravat, old bird with him.
He span some yarn about how his wife was sick, needed a ride to hospital.
When Mr Bloom fetched his car keys, Clem has a gun in his pocket,
says to hand 'em over, plus all the cash in his wallet.
A gun? Bloody hell!
Right, circulate a description of the car.
And that they may be armed.
- This is getting out of hand. - Boss.
I'm sorry I caused you problems with Elliot.
Well, make it up to me by helping find that moonshine.
Do you think Clem could've brewed it himself?
Well, possibly.
I can't believe he has a gun!
- Let's hope he doesn't use it. - Oh!
Beat you to it.
That is definitely not turpentine.
Now, who here might have access to bottles like that?
Hey, what are you doing?
Open this, would you, Mr Wyndham?
Or would you prefer to see what happens
when you obstruct my murder investigation? Hm.
- Anyone else have keys to this? - No.
So, it's your moonshine operation.
Yes.
We found two glasses of it in Clem's room.
Did the Matron chance upon this scheme of yours?
Threaten to report or even sack you for it?
No! She had no idea. Nobody did.
- Except Clem. - Ah, Clem loved it.
He didn't hurt anyone.
Matron Fletcher might've felt differently.
Look, I told you, she had no idea.
You told us you left the home at eight last night.
Were you really here, Pat?
Did you witness anything? Hear the bang just after nine?
Look, I had a drink with Clem after I knocked off at eight,
but I was nowhere near his room at nine.
- So where were you? - Nigel Kneale.
What, he a resident here?
No, the writer. Well, his new Quatermass was on.
Couldn't miss the chance to see it on the big box.
Anyone corroborate that?
What did we watch last night, Shirley?
Er... Oh, Martians on the London underground!
Nothing beats watching with this lot.
Oh?
Another one of your admirers.
Look.
Clem wasn't the only one Fletcher was seeking guardianship of.
There's application forms here for a dozen residents.
So she's getting their finances and any property all signed over, too.
- Where's Captain Efficiency? - Robbery at the Fitzwilliam.
All clear.
The old man's daughter is in your office.
Clara Preston?
What trouble's my father got himself into this time?
He may be involved in the murder of Matron Sandra Fletcher
at the St Cedd's Care Home last night.
Murder?
Did you know his guardianship was being changed?
From you to the Matron?
No, I...
That means you get none of his money. No inheritance.
Hm, quite a blow.
Did you find out and confront the Matron about it?
Confront her where?
I had no idea my father was in a home. We haven't spoken in years.
You're estranged?
Yes.
What happened, to push you apart?
It wasn't one thing. It was a lifetime of his scams and schemes.
Like what?
He claimed he beat Jack the Ripper in an arm wrestle,
had an affair with Marie Lloyd.
Great tales, I'm sure, if you've just met him.
I lived with those lies and distortions.
He used to take me to pick the Christmas tree every year.
A wonderful father-daughter trip to the woods.
Except I learned later we were stealing them...
..and I was just there for sympathy if we got caught.
So where were you yesterday evening?
Last night I was on a date at a full restaurant.
Well, your father fled the scene with another resident, Ida Merryman.
And today they stole a car and some cash.
This has the whiff of one of his stories finally gone too far.
- Did he ever talk about what he'd do with money? - Always.
Well, this time next year we'd be rich or famous.
He'd drive us to afternoon tea at The Ritz in some flash car.
He was an awful tease.
Miss Scott!
I need you to call all the posh hotels in town,
find out if any have a silver Jensen saloon parked outside.
And tell uniform the driver is armed.
Reverend!
You keep your hands where I can see them.
Stay in your seat, stay calm.
- Where's the gun, Mr Preston? - Right pocket.
So much for Bonnie and Clyde.
Forget the hold-up, Inspector. I did it.
I slayed the dragon.
Cracked her head wide open.
So, you're admitting to the murder of Matron Fletcher
last night at the St Cedd's Care Home?
Hm... No, I-I-I don't think I am.
But you confessed at the hotel.
Spiced up the afternoon tea for the duchesses, I should say, yeah?
This is a serious allegation, Mr Preston.
Murder is a capital offence.
So is life, Inspector. Mine's already short.
Shorter than the drop from a hangman's noose, I'd wager.
A woman's dead.
Clem, when you locked yourself in the Matron's office,
did you take a look at some of the files on her desk?
Arthur Conan Doyle, man with a delightful moustache,
once came to our school
to extoll the virtues of observation and deduction.
- Clem, did you see... - As he was leaving,
I threw a paper aeroplane out of the window, two storeys up!
It looped and it swooped its way down, and... poked him in the eye.
"Didn't observe that coming, did ya!"
Mr Preston, I think you became aware
that the Matron had forged an application to become your guardian,
to take possession of your property and control your life.
You confronted her, pushed her, and killed her.
I like this story. Sounds like one of mine.
Did you witness Clem get into an altercation with the Matron
and push her to the ground?
No, nothing of the sort.
Did you see anything at all?
Of course I did, it was me.
Excuse me?
I did it. I pushed the Matron.
She fell and smashed her head.
Well, we thought it was...
You thought the man did it, didn't you?
Silly buggers!
So why d'you do it?
She was a monster to him.
When he asked about the papers,
she said horrible things about how pathetic he was with his stories.
Clem is not as tough as he acts.
I thought he was going to drop dead there in front of me.
- So, you pushed her over... - Hm.
- ..and then what happened? - I was so shaken up.
But, er, Clem said, "Let's have one more adventure",
so we took her keys and ran.
How did she fall?
I told you, I pushed her.
And she smashed her head...?
On the water pipes.
It made a big bang.
You've spent too long with Clem, Ida.
Fletcher hit the washbasin.
You didn't even see the murder happen, did you?
What will you do with them?
Hold them both overnight.
That lady that came in with my father...
- Mm-hm. - Could I speak to her?
I'm so sorry. I understand my father has dragged you into one of his...
Well...
I don't know what he promised, but I'm sure it wasn't this.
Clara, isn't it?
He loves you, you know.
I'm sorry, but he doesn't love anyone but himself
and his inane bloody fantasies.
He saved us.
Ticking off the days in that place.
When you've got nothing else, you need a bit of distraction.
A sense of purpose.
He made us feel as if we were all part of some great adventure.
- Boss? - Hm.
Trouble brewing at some shop on Christ's Lane.
Communists kicking off.
So send in uniform.
We did - they daren't move 'em.
Why ever not?
- The ringleader... - Hm?
It's your wife.
You shouldn't be doing this!
There is no reason for you to be in here!
- You need to not manhandle me! - You need to get off!
- Let go of my hand! - Bloody hell!
You don't need to hold my hand!
Get off!
Cathy. Love...
Equal pay without delay!
All right, all right. ALL RIGHT! Simmer down!
It's your boys who've come in here and started getting physical!
This is a peaceful protest!
Cathy, please! I mean, handcuffs?
Where d'you even get...
It's Miss Scott.
We are not leaving until Mr Draper agrees to pay us
eight pounds a week, same as the men.
- Mr Draper has made the complaint. - Oh, he would.
- It's wilful damage to private property. - Ah, come on!
He says your cuffs are scraping his varnish.
So, you're a tool of the corporation now, eh?
You have to stop this.
Solidarity in the face of oppression!
- What do we want? - Equal pay!
- When do we want it? - Now!
Get the bolt cutters and a couple of vans down here sharpish.
We'll sort this out at the station.
Boss.
- What do we want? - Equal pay...
This is highly irregular, boss.
In case you hadn't noticed, Larry, so's the suspect.
Good luck.
This the only way I get to see you now?
Four whole years I've been at Swinnertons.
New lad started this week, green as you like.
On seven pound a week, whilst Muggins here is on five and change.
Miss Scott, besides aiding and abetting you lot,
solves twice the crimes Larry does for half his wages.
And Larry got lost on his way out of the cells last month.
I get it.
Oh, you get it so well, you arrested me in front of Mr Draper.
What happened to us?
Things used to be so simple.
- Oh, here we go again! - What?
You're always falling back on the past.
The cornflowers, the bloody train station story.
All you do is reach for how we used to be.
I don't even know who you are now,
and you sure as hell don't seem to know who I am.
You're my Cathy...
Am I?
I'm scared.
I am scared because you have always been my anchor.
After the war, you and the kids...
With you lot, I knew I was doing all right.
My family was my happy place.
And without that anchor, I'm not sure I know who I am.
And maybe, maybe you and the railway station
where we first met...
..it's a story I just tell myself to right myself.
I don't know what happens when I let go of that.
I'm not asking you to let go of it.
I never would.
But how much have we been through since that station platform?
How many kids? How many fights?
How many Larrys?
How many vicars?
Yeah!
I just want you to see us as we are now.
Aren't there new stories we could write?
Like what?
Oh, I don't know!
Imagine...
Imagine two strangers in a police station.
It's a terrible start.
- One grizzled old detective. - Less of the grizzled!
One independent working woman.
She sounds all right. Bit chippie, maybe...
What would you really think of me, if this was the first time?
I'd think you were as beautiful as I did on that platform...
Oi! Stay in the here an' now.
I'd think you're the most formidable woman I've ever met.
You're brave, you're funny.
Too smart for the likes of me.
Well, you're not wrong there, Inspector.
And I see a good man, but one that has a habit of losing his way.
A touch more honesty'd help with that.
I can do honesty.
- Hm? - Hm-mm.
"Honest George", they'd call me.
And I see that... charm.
And I see those baby blues.
Still able to set me all a-quiver.
Flattery will get you nowhere, Mrs Keating.
You're still under caution.
Ah, well, in that case, this would be quite improper...
? A wandering minstrel, I
? A thing of shreds and patches
? Of ballads, songs and snatches
? And dreamy lullaby! ?
All right! All right, enough.
"Yeah, so where were you this morning, Geordie?"
"Vicarage felt empty without your delightful presence."
OK, where were you?
Course of true love is a bumpy bastard, Will.
Oh, that is brilliant news. Congratulations!
Get your ruddy hands off me, baby-face!
It's you insisting on taking a leak every five minutes!
He didn't do it, did he?
He's all too happy to get caught, and then stringing us along.
Mm, same with Ida.
So, who?
Well, Thursday?
- Larry! - Friday, then?
Larry, get me the statements
from all staff and residents at St Cedd's.
Everyone has an alibi.
In bed, on duty watching a... a Quatermass show.
Oh, fiddlesticks!
I missed it. Quatermass. It's rather thrilling.
Meant to watch it at the weekend.
Larry, change of plan. Get me the TV listings.
Now, I've told you already, I was watching TV.
Hm. Well, tell me if you've heard this one before.
"A brain scanner reveals alien pictures in Barbara Judd's mind
"of the wild hunt, the frenetic purging of the Martian hives."
- Well, yeah, Quatermass. - Mm-hm.
First broadcast on Saturday night.
And repeated again...
on Monday.
You knew the details from the original broadcast,
a few days earlier,
and you relied on the hazy memories of the residents to convince us
you had an alibi for Monday night.
Fletcher's words didn't just hurt Clem.
When she called his stories lies...
..she hurt everyone else who believed in them, too.
Sometimes we need a vision of ourselves, a happy place...
..to anchor us.
And it's terrifying to let go of it.
I wanted to be a pilot.
Fly planes, maybe rockets.
But I ended up here.
Living alone.
Clem made it bearable.
Like there was hope.
When he confronted her, Fletcher knew she'd been rumbled...
- Just give them back to me! - ..but she couldn't let it get out.
- Give them back to me! - Hey!
- What's going on? - It's nothing to do with you.
I tried to calm things. I guess it felt like I was undermining her.
She turned on me.
Argh!
I didn't mean to do it.
I've always liked a drink.
Matron cleaned me up and gave me a chance.
I reckoned you'd see the moonshine and my history...
..and figure me for murder.
So Ida and Clem took it upon themselves
to lead us on a merry dance around town.
They told me to get home and not to worry.
They tried to save me.
Pat Wyndham, I'm arresting you on suspicion of manslaughter.
You do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so,
but it may harm your defence...
They all fell for his stories, then?
It can't have been easy to grow up with all your dad's tall tales...
but for some people, hard lives need hope.
Ida and Pat needed an escape...
..to the point that they risked everything for your father.
So DC Peters has run through the charges of theft
and disorder against you both, but for now, you're being bailed.
Oh!
- You all right? - I'm fine.
Dad.
Clara.
There's a field near my house.
I hear the council are growing Christmas trees.
Oh! What fools they are.
You think the charges will stick?
Ah, it depends on the car owner.
Oh, what the hell, it'll be one more tale if they do.
Robbery, high tea and a wild goose chase around Cambridge.
They really did seize the day.
- That's a relief. - He's so hungry.
Well, that's me.
I'm glad you're going back.
As am I.
Someone else can darn the holes in your suit, empty your ashtrays.
- And the state of your room! - Thank you, Mrs C.
- You've been an absolute saint. - Nonsense.
No, really.
Without you and Will...
Been a rough year.
But I would walk over hot coals
to get any time back with Cathy and the kids.
More time.
It's all we can hope for.
Hey, it's me.
Listen, what are you up to tonight?
So, Will, what prompted this change of heart?
Well, I suddenly had the urge
to go and see those female priests in Sweden.
I think I might need a guide.
I just needed a bit more time.
And now you know what you want?
Carpe diem.
Morning, Reverend D.
- Bonnie. - Sorry, yes, yeah, it is early.
- Wait, can we just, um... - I have to say this now. OK.
Let's not be friends.
I think friends is wrong for us.
I realised, and this... sounds weird.
I realised after that date that I really hated you,
hated what you said and how you said it,
hated your stupid face and your stupid laugh.
- Bonnie, if we could just... - Please, hear me out!
But that feeling means something more.
It means really, really liking.
I know you wanna lock me out, but...
I think you feel something, too.
Now you think I'm crazy, yeah,
I've just woken you up and told you that I hate you.
- Can we have tea? - Look, Bonnie! Bonnie!
Oh.
This is not what it looks like...
Bonnie?
Bonnie, wait! Wait!
- Get off me! - Sorry.
I can't believe I just said all that to you, and...
Or that I believed anything you said!
You incredibly entitled arsehole!
Bonnie!
I-I am very, very sorry.
She's not wrong.
It's very entitled to lead a lady on.
Worse still to do it twice.
What's happening here?
I am so sorry.
I don't want your sorrow.
I was always going away.
It was nice to imagine that you'd come with me...
..but I think I was kidding myself about the man you are.
And I think you have been, too.
*CREDITS*