Previously on Grantchester...
When you leave here,
you'll be ready to face the world again.
There have been complaints.
Consider the bike...
on holiday.
I'm not ready to go.
It wasn't a choice.
Mum's had a stroke.
- You're seven months pregnant. - Stop vicaring me.
No!
*CREDITS*
No!
Ambulance.
I need an ambulance.
Uh, uh, the road to, to Barton.
Yeah, please hurry!
Sir, just before you go...
Uh-uh! No!
What, you're not off till 8:00.
It is 8:00.
It's 7:50.
Uh, Swiss quartz.
Most precise timepiece of its kind.
Accurate to within a tenth of a second.
It's ten minutes fast.
Bloody Swiss!
Traffic accident.
Mm-hmm, never trusted them.
What nation doesn't enjoy a nice war?
Serious, by the sounds of it.
Larry!
Traffic accident.
But it's nearly 8:00.
What can I say, Larry?
Blame the Swiss.
Bloody kids going too fast.
It's a, uh, what do you call it?
I don't know, boss.
Metaphor, everything that's wrong in the world.
Eh? What happened to taking things slowly?
Enjoying the view?
Everyone's always going too bloody...
Just a sip.
For me.
Can you move it?
It's barely a scratch.
Man upstairs must be looking out for you.
Couldn't stop.
I, I tried, but I didn't see him, Geordie.
It's a bugger of a road.
If I had a penny for every time there's an accident there...
Morgue, boss.
Couldn't have been helped, Will.
Driving license.
John Mitchell.
Lived in Barton.
The Mirage Club.
It's the one up near the station.
Right cesspit.
Any witnesses on the road?
No.
Poor bloke.
Vicar must've been going hell for leather.
Just find his next of kin, Larry.
Vicarage.
Mrs. C, I...
Will! It's Will!
Tell him I made a bread!
William Davenport, you're in my bad books.
When's anyone ever in your good books?
You're in the pub, aren't you?
- Mrs. C, I... - I said to Jack,
that boy'll be three sheets to the wind,
no thought for supper or a certain young master's bedtime.
It's not bedtime yet!
We have a situation on our hands.
Dickens has been spreading his wild oats.
What are wild oats?
Mrs. Foster's dog,
one with the glint in her eye.
Apparently the pups are coming to us!
Mrs. C, Mrs. C...
What's the matter?
Bloody hell.
Will.
Come on now.
What was his name?
John... John Mitchell.
How old was he?
Thirty.
Did he have a family?
I don't know yet.
Please tell me he didn't have kids.
I don't know yet, Will.
I didn't pray for him.
I, I should pray for him.
Miss Scott, take him to my office.
on my desk Monday morning.
I suppose I should be grateful he's here
for legitimate reasons.
It's all in hand, sir.
78 miles an hour.
Doesn't look good, does it?
He's the same age as me.
We're the same age.
Sylvia!
That bloody bike!
I told him, I told him it was trouble.
- Is he hurt? - Nothing but a cut on his hand.
Well, that's good, isn't it?
Ernie's asking all sorts of questions.
We should tell Bonnie.
Will said don't... he said, "Don't tell her."
Well, she's going to find out eventually.
Where are you going?!
Police station.
Will said to stay with Ernie.
I won't have him sitting there on his own.
Geordie's with him.
He won't let anything bad happen.
Won't let anything bad happen to who?
Bed, Ernest Evans!
Is it Will?
Is he all right?
Of course!
Then why are you all whispering?
Well, we were just...
Discussing Dickens.
Spreading his wild oats?
Exactly.
Will's really fine?
As fine as fine can be.
Come on.
How fast were you going?
I don't know.
Fifty? Sixty? I don't...
I don't remember.
You're an experienced rider.
You must have some idea.
I was, uh...
I'd had a, a disagreement
with my wife,
and I, I wasn't quite concentrating.
You weren't concentrating?
Well, the roads were quiet.
You weren't concentrating on the road?
That's not what he said.
I know what he said, Inspector.
Tell us about the man, Will.
Well, he was running.
From where?
From the verge.
He was crossing without looking?
- I didn't see. - You didn't see?
It just, it happened so quick.
So quick you barely had time to brake.
But he did brake.
There were tire marks.
Hardly.
The sun was setting.
Maybe it was in your eyes.
How fast were you going,
Mr. Davenport?
My speedometer's been, um...
It's been playing up recently, so...
That's convenient... how fast?
The man was running... he didn't look.
I'll tell you, shall I?
78 miles an hour.
Downright dangerous, wouldn't you say, Mr. Davenport?
I'm sure a judge would agree.
You're looking at a decade in prison?
No, that's enough.
He's had enough.
I say when we're done.
You're making this personal, sir.
I'm making this personal?
I know your fiancée and Mr. Davenport had a...
You're the one making excuses for him.
A man is dead.
A man who shouldn't have been on that road.
Mr. Davenport said it himself.
He wasn't paying attention.
That's not what he meant.
You know what needs to be done, Inspector.
William Davenport...
I'm arresting you for causing death by reckless driving.
Dear Will.
I'm sorry you didn't come home last night because...
I have something to ask you.
I know you aren't really my dad, but you make me breakfast
and let me ride your bike,
even if it's only pretend.
You're very kind
and grumpy sometimes.
But that's all right... I don't mind.
You don't have to say yes, but...
Would you mind if I called you Dad?
I'd like that very much.
Why was John on that road, Jackie?
I don't know.
What was he running from?
I really don't know.
We went out to the Mirage.
I left him there.
Walked home on my own.
I'm not keen on him when he's had a few too many.
I was tired.
He was drunk.
We had words.
I thought when I woke up, he'd be home.
Guv said we've got all we need.
Case is open and shut.
John was running.
The question is... from what?
My money's on the motorbike.
Mm, I meant before that, Larry.
Cambridge to Barton.
John's walking home from the Mirage.
So what scared him off this footpath to make him run?
Go on, then.
Boss!
I'm not a betting man,
but I'd say John Mitchell was legging it from the fella
he'd just beaten to death.
- Can't know that for sure, boss, can we? - Hm?
Milton Bedwin.
He was dragged.
Ground's scuffed.
There was more than two people here, by the looks of it.
He was at the Mirage.
Same as John and his wife... come on.
- But Guv said... - Larry!
If you say "Guv said" one more time,
he won't be the only corpse in these woods.
Sorry.
Mirage, eh?
Last place I'd want to come across in a desert.
Police... turn off the music.
No please?
No... no please.
What can we, uh, help you with, ossifers?
"Ossifers"?
Sorry, I mean...
Oss... Officers.
You'll have to excuse my brother.
He ain't the brightest spark.
Ah, you got the family brain cell, did ya?
He's, he's teasing you, Ray.
Do you know a Milton Bedwin?
Who?
Yeah, Milton's a mate of ours.
He was in last night.
What trouble has he got himself into now?
The kind that ends up with him and another fella
called John Mitchell dead.
You ever have trouble here?
Kids who come here,
they're grafters.
Work hard, dance hard, drink hard.
Punch-ups are all part of the fun.
Tell you what, though, things have got worse
since that place opened.
- One with the ex-cons. - Mm.
The halfway house?
Yeah, blokes from there
come here looking for trouble.
So Milton got into a fight, did he?
Is the pope a Catholic?
I stepped in and broke it up.
I threw Milton out.
Drunk as a lord, he was.
Who was he in here with?
Dot.
My tablecloths ready?
Good as new, Ray.
- This all part of the service, is it? - Only the handsome customers.
Never know your luck.
He's Old Bill, Dot.
Inspector Keating.
I'll let you tell her.
This about Milton? Bugger ain't turned up.
Boss is ready to blow her top... one of the machines is out.
Milton's the only one who knows how to fix it.
He, uh, down the nick, is he?
He was involved in a fight at the Mirage last night.
Well, there's nothing Milton loves more
than a scrap of a Friday night.
I'm afraid we found Milton's body this morning.
He's dead?
When did you last see him?
Uh, I put him on the bus home last night.
Number three.
What time would that be?
Half-eight?
Poor old Milton.
Big old dummy.
Why didn't you tell us John got into a fight?
Is that what you argued about?
A few drinks, he can be a right bloody idiot.
It was a fella called Milton.
Do you know him?
I'd never seen him before.
It was all so stupid.
We were having such a lovely time.
Some of the dancers there, they're just wonderful.
He went to get us a drink.
Whoa, whoa!
Hey up!
It was all so quick.
Suddenly John and this chap...
were going at it.
You know how men get when they've had a few.
Either want a kiss and a cuddle or a fight.
What did John say it was about?
Who was next in the queue for the bar.
Larry, Elliot's asking for you.
Was your husband a violent man, Jackie?
I don't see how that matters now.
Yeah, if he was angry,
if he was riled,
would he have it in him to hurt someone?
I think the phrase is
"read them and have a little cry."
I don't think that's the phrase.
I know gambling's a sin, but I'm starting to see the appeal.
Gives you quite a tingle, doesn't it?
Ssh!
Police!
What's this?
Come on, move!
What are you doing?
Chuck 'em in the van.
- Bring 'em all in. - On what grounds?
- 'Cause I say so. - Get up!
What the hell did I do?
- You're hurting him! - My heart bleeds.
- Careful. - You're coming and all, Mr. Finch.
On what grounds? What have we done?
On what grounds?
This John Mitchell?
He's a wrong 'un.
I mean, his wife didn't say as much,
but I wouldn't be surprised if he knocked her about a bit.
He goes out, he gets plastered,
he starts a fight
and knocks ten bells out of
a fella called Milton, kills him,
and legs it into a road where he shouldn't have been.
He's drunk.
He doesn't see where he's going...
Did he have children?
He was running from the man he just killed, Will.
Tell me he didn't have children.
This changes everything... he's a murderer.
So am I.
You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I was going 78 miles per hour.
You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, Will.
Whatever's occurring out there, I'm not gonna like it, am I?
Stab in the dark, I'd say no.
- _ - Unless we're under arrest,
- you have no grounds to keep us here. - Fine!
- Arrest them all! - For what?
Arrest 'em, interview 'em.
_
No don't worry, don't worry... for what?
Find out if they were at the Mirage last night.
- We played cards. - We haven't done anything.
You're bound to do something eventually.
So you're admitting this is harassment.
That it's unjust.
That you're nothing but a common little thug.
Shut your mouth, you pansy bastard,
before I shut it for you.
Larry!
- Now tell me this isn't harassment. - The Guv said.
I don't give a damn what the Guv said, you...
Halfway house is within a mile
of where all this trouble happened.
Uh, there's a Catholic girls' school within a mile, sir.
You wanna bring them in, as well?
The owner of the Mirage said the cons...
- Ex-cons! - They've been causing trouble.
- That's not true. - That's speculation, Larry.
I think they followed Milton out to the field,
beat him up.
Keating.
John killed Milton, sir, he ran...
Stop trying to absolve your friend.
Get a confession from Mr. Davenport,
charge him with reckless driving,
then get on with your damn job.
My office.
Why'd you go above my head?
Your mate's in trouble.
You don't want him to go to prison.
Oh, so now you're insulting my integrity.
- You're trying to make out Will's done nothing wrong. - He hasn't.
You want the bloke he knocked over to look like a wrong 'un.
But if he'd been in a fight,
wouldn't there be blood all over him?
You always tell me we have to put personal feelings. to one side, boss.
Things are getting a little fractious out there.
You find out what his problem is.
I've had my fill.
- Leonard... - I'm doing my best
to give these men some hope.
To give them a reason to believe
society wants them to succeed.
And then your lot come crashing in.
When as far as I can see,
our greatest offense was a rather tedious game
of gin rummy!
But if that makes me a master criminal,
then so be it... take me to my cell!
Mm.
Um, not sure you realize, but that little chat
was supposed to have the opposite effect.
I can't find the words to help him, Leonard.
I'm here, I'm here now.
Didn't think of you as the aggressive sort.
Bit of a twerp sometimes, but...
Not aggressive.
What is it?
Girl trouble?
Boy trouble?
My old mum.
Ah, mothers.
The worst trouble of all. What's she done?
She passed away.
Oh, Larry, I'm...
I'm so sorry.
It was a heart attack.
She was lovely, my old mum.
Thought the world of me, for some reason.
Proud of my job.
No doubt she'd be prouder
if you didn't go around threatening people.
You're better than that, Larry.
Your mum knew that.
Miss Scott.
About Geordie...
I think you owe him an apology.
He's got this all wrong... look.
His name was John.
Bonnie and I, we, uh...
We talked about calling the baby John.
It's her dad's name.
The only biblical name I could sneak past her.
John woke up yesterday, same as any other.
Went about his day.
And in a moment,
it was all over.
He was so young, he was...
A moment later, and he would've been across the road,
and a moment sooner, and I would've seen him.
I'm not sure it's helpful to think like that.
I haven't told Bonnie.
She'll feel nothing but compassion for you.
I don't deserve it.
If someone came to you in the same predicament,
if someone sought your counsel, what would you say to them?
I don't know.
I think you'd take their hand.
You'd listen as they told you their story.
And they'd see that you feel nothing but pity
and they'd be grateful for that.
Then you'd tell them that the Bible talks of cities
where those that had taken another man's life
by accident could seek refuge.
Beautiful cities with rivers
and forests and glorious sunsets.
Where they could live a full life, untroubled.
Where God still loved them very much.
God still loves you very much, Will.
Is this the man that got into a fight with your husband?
- Larry... - Just give us a minute, boss.
- She shouldn't be in here. - Just give Larry a minute.
This isn't him.
Thing is, boss...
The thing is...
- And we're not questioning your integrity. - Mm-hmm.
But?
The story about what happened
at the dance hall doesn't add up for me.
Either the wife's lying or the brothers are.
Or both.
So I had a look back at our records.
Ray Mansfield is a violent thug.
Assault, GBH, possession of a knife.
Punched the arresting officer
more than once.
If anyone got into a fight with John that night, it's him.
So you are questioning my integrity.
- Well, no. - No.
A little bit.
Yes.
Mrs. Mitchell.
Do you recognize this man?
That's him.
The man who hit John.
It wasn't a fight about the queue for the bar, was it?
She was blonde.
John always had an eye for a blonde.
Fella made a play for me.
Right old letch.
You know how men get.
So I said to Ray, I say,
"That fella was trying it on with me."
And Ray, being the honorable chap he is,
defended your honor.
No one makes a play for my girl.
Maybe you and Milton followed John home.
I never left the club.
Ask Paulie.
Ray never left the club.
Maybe Milton went after the fella.
So hang on, now Milton is the one defending Dot's honor.
Yeah.
Not her boyfriend.
No.
Help me out here, Paulie.
Why on God's green earth would he do that?
I don't know.
You're confusing me.
So Milton got punched to death
because another fella looked at a girl funny.
Not even his girl.
She's a rotter, I'm sure of it.
- Doesn't make no sense. - Any.
Doesn't make any sense.
We have a body in woodland covered in blood.
One punch to the stomach, pathologist reckons.
But the amount of blood Milton lost,
the killer would've been soaked in it, too.
John didn't have any blood on him.
That rules out John.
Not the others, though.
What about the others?
Paulie, Ray, Dot, witness saw them at closing time,
so all clean as a whistle.
I'm not sure I'd call that girl clean,
even if she does work in a laundry.
Something happened to make John run into that road.
He's running from Milton.
Well, according to Dot,
Milton went home on the number three bus.
At what time?
Half-eight.
Well, then, she's lying.
The last bus is at 7:00 p.m.
She's covering for them.
Larry.
Unless it's a service wash you're after,
I'm not interested.
You are a force to be reckoned with,
aren't you, Dot?
Nothing wrong with that.
And yet one look from a fella,
you're off running to Ray for protection.
I didn't like it.
Bloke was a sleaze.
Mm.
See, I think you did.
I think you like the attention.
You know Ray has previous for violence.
You wound him up and set him off.
Mr. Finch, they're ready for your interview now.
Wonderful.
And what delights can I look forward to
in this persecution of the innocents?
Thumbscrews, perhaps?
Is anyone with John?
No.
Can I see him?
I'd be in so much trouble.
He shouldn't be on his own.
I can't bear the thought of him being on his own.
How many fights have you been in, Ray?
Couple.
And the rest.
Shut your fat mouth, Paulie.
I think you enjoy it.
Chance to throw your weight around.
You were looking for a fight that night.
That fella's just tried it on, Ray.
Dirty little sod.
Perhaps he needs to learn a lesson.
- Perhaps he does. - No perhaps about it.
What'd you say to my girl?
You follow him out
down the footpath, ready to give him a pasting.
But something stopped you... or someone.
Punch his lights out, Ray.
Milton didn't mind a punch-up.
I think I can do better than that.
But maybe you pulled a knife, and that was too much for him.
He stopped you, didn't he?
So you turn on your mate.
You punch him.
And down he goes.
Didn't strike me as odd before,
but tablecloths at the Mirage?
It's like putting a floral arrangement on a bombsite.
Difficult stain to get out, blood.
This yours, I take it, Ray?
Raymond Mansfield, I'm arresting you for murder.
Oh, you know the rest.
Heard it enough times.
I'm sure you know it off by heart.
Don't you dare make a run for it.
I'm not chasing you in these heels.
Lord, grant to him eternal rest.
Let light perpetual shine upon him.
May...
Sorry.
No, please.
I'm his wife.
Can I pray with you?
Of course.
Let light perpetual shine upon him.
May his soul and the souls of all the departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
He wanted children.
We both did.
But for him, it was something more.
He needed it.
To be a dad.
Never happened, unfortunately.
What was he like?
A good man.
For the most part.
Not one of us can say we're perfect, can we?
No.
Thank you for being with him.
Pray for me, too, if you would.
It was me.
It was me on the bike.
I, I know it's not enough,
it will never be enough.
But I, I am so, so sorry.
Ah, Mr. Davenport.
I think it's time we resumed our interview.
Where to start?
The argument with your wife, perhaps.
We weren't arguing exactly.
You left the house in a fury.
You got on your bike, you were going too fast.
- I didn't think I was. - How shall we put it?
Driving recklessly?
Dangerously?
I wasn't... I'm sure I wasn't.
Reckless... hm.
Sums you up, I think.
No concern for others.
Elliot, I know Maya and I...
I know I caused you upset.
Upset?
You destroyed my life.
How is it you hurt everyone around you
and always come out unscathed?
Reckless.
That's the perfect word.
How is he?
Promise me he's all right.
Fella Will knocked over was a bad 'un.
Wasn't Will's fault.
I knew it, I knew it couldn't be.
I need every document we have on Will's bike.
Service records, manuals?
Right.
It's bad, isn't it?
Come to finish off the job?
You're free to go.
If I weren't in danger of going back in that cell,
I'd give you a piece of my mind.
And trust me,
it wouldn't be very charitable.
I'm sorry.
I was wrong to call you names and I apologize.
Right.
Mr. Finch.
Geordie's retiring.
There'll be no one here to protect you soon.
So don't get cocky.
"As per the evidence, I agree
"that I was going 78 miles per hour.
"I admit I drove dangerously and that Mr. Mitchell's death
was entirely the fault of my reckless behavior."
Sign, please.
Not now.
It's a photograph taken four weeks ago.
Speedo was already broken.
Stuck at 78 miles an hour.
The last witness to see Mr. Davenport in the village
said he was going at a steady pace.
40, tops.
The road's dangerous.
It's a blind corner.
Countless deaths.
John was threatened with a knife.
He was running for his life.
And measurements from the road show Will tried to brake.
It was an accident.
He has no case to answer for
and we have no right to keep him here.
Ray behaving himself?
Good as gold.
Hasn't thumped a single officer yet.
Will wonders never cease?
Do you know how many times you've been arrested, Ray?
Thirteen.
Unlucky for some.
Usually for the officer arresting you.
You always put up a fight.
Not this time, though... why not?
You got me bang to rights.
Oh, I'm touched you have so much faith in me.
Problem is, I'm starting to doubt myself.
Why would you not fight back?
I don't think this is yours.
Which begs the question, who're you trying to protect?
Larry.
Mirage Club, now.
Inspector.
I can't do it.
I can't lie anymore.
You were just trying to keep the peace, weren't you, Paulie?
Not so cocky now, are you?
Let him go, Ray, please.
Shut up, Paulie.
Oi, teach him a lesson, Ray!
No, I said let him go... Ray!
Stop! Oi!
What'd you do that for?
Always have to ruin the fun.
You scared, Paulie?
No.
Course you are.
Your lardy arse couldn't punch its way
out of a paper bag!
Kablammo! You see that?!
How's that for a lard arse?
Milton?
Mils?
Hey! Hey!
I just wanted them to stop laughing at me for a little bit.
It was one punch.
One punch is all it takes.
You must've been covered in blood.
Get that shirt off him.
Well, get it off him, quickly.
Turn around.
Can you tell his family...
Can you tell them I'm sorry?
The other man, too.
I'm sorry.
Excuse me, Vicar, can I, uh...
Can I talk to you?
I killed my mate.
I, I didn't mean to.
It's going to haunt me forever, isn't it?
What's your name?
Paul.
God still loves you, Paul.
Even after this?
Whatever we do, he loves us.
I don't see how.
We're his children.
And he cares for us,
sins and all.
It's just, he looked so scared.
When I close my eyes, I can see him.
Things feel dark now,
but there is always darkness before the dawn.
And the dawn always comes.
Mr. Davenport.
God loves you very much, Paul.
Thank you for your cooperation.
We're releasing you without charge.
Your belongings.
Thank you, Mr. Davenport.
That's it?
All done.
I should tell Bonnie.
Of course.
Everything happens for a reason.
God has a reason, Will.
I couldn't sleep last night.
It's weird when you're not there.
Baby was kicking me all night.
Right in the bladder, the little bugger.
He's definitely gonna be a footballer.
Or, or a tiny hooligan, one or the other.
I, I had an idea for a name.
John's too ordinary, I think.
Uh, how about Sebastian?
Too, is it too snooty?
I love you.
I love you, too.
What is it?
Will?
Will!
How was school?
Boring.
What's this?
You can read it now, if you like.
_
Does that sound
all right to you?
It sounds wonderful.
Dad?
Yes, Ern?
I feel very lucky.
So do I.
*CREDITS*