All language subtitles for Endeavour.S08E01.DVDRip.x264-TABULARiA-eng

COMMENTATOR:
You join us here at The Barracks

for this fifth-round FA Cup tie
between minnows Cowley Town

and local rivals Oxford Wanderers.

The build-up around Cowley's home ground
is already quite something,

not at aff the sort of crowd they're
used to seeing at this end of the league,

(Whistle blows)

Hello, Alf.
Who's your pal?

COMMENTATOR:
One minute of injury fime remaining

and Oxford Wanderers are trailing
the minnows Cowley Town

by a goal fo nil in this fifth-round cup fie.

(Crowd chant and cheer)

(Whistle blows)

COMMENTATOR:
A free kick just outside the penalty area.

Swift is fining up fo take the kick.

Swift has snatched
if not victory from the jaws of defeat,

then at feast something that'll...

(Thunder rumbles)

This is a message
from the Provisional IRA.

If Jack Swift plays in the game

on Wednesday against Cowley...

he'll be shot,

(Record buffers on the turntable)

RADIO REPORTER: The nationwide
postal strike enters its fourth week

with no sign of movement on either side.

{Jingle plays on the radio)

Traffic, I expect.

I'm sure he'll be here soon.

You have to understand, Master,
that funding a department

with money from a company
with blood on its hands is...

with blood on its hands
can no longer be tolerated.

Be wary of judging the past
by modern morals, Mr Sarson,

lest your own enlightened virtues
one day fall from fashion.

It's not about the past, Master.

Oh...

- Good morning, Miss Widdowson.
- Morning, Miss Newell.

You're in early.

But it's all right, I've got the kettle on.

(Explosion booms)

(Fire alarm rings)

(Fire alarm rings)

(Telephone rings)

(Telephone rings)

(Telephone rings)

(Telephone rings)

(Telephone rings)

(Telephone rings)

Morse.

What's the, er..?

One dead and one injured.

The deceased
is a Miss Margaret Widdowson.

22, from Headington.

Junior secretary in the Master's office.

She wouldn't have known anything about it.
Small mercies.

And the, er, survivor?

A Miss Newell.
Also secretarial.

And where was the bomb?

- Inthe post, it looks like.
- A parcel, I should imagine,

by the size of the blast.

Forensics will identify the package,
hopefully.

What's left of it.

But expect it will be
avery lengthy process.

Cause of death should speak for itself,
in this instance,

But shall we say two o'clock?

Thanks, Doctor.

Oh, hello, Sergeant.

- Very nice to have you back.
- Doctor.

So, what do we think?

Angry Brigade?

Word out of Barnet
is they charged a bloke Saturday

with bombing
the Employment Minister's place.

The Brigade would suggest that more than
one person's involved, wouldn't you think?

Didn't they put something
in one of their communigués?

"We attack properties, not people.”

Wouldn't be their style,
I shouldn't have thought.

Well, whoever sent it
and whatever it came in,

We can assume
it was meant for the Master.

THURSDAY:
You've had no personal

or professional disagreements
with colleagues?

Nothing to warrant such a terrible, wicked...

That poor, poor girl.

I noticed some placards
conceming the Buchanan affair in the quad.

Feelings are still running high, I take it.

Just undergraduate misbehaviour.

- What's this?
- Tobias Buchanan, sir.

He made a fortune in arms
during the American Civil War

and later invested a science chair here.

Some say as a way to expiate his sins.

- So, the issue is?
- The company that bears his name

also manufactures napalm
and a defoliant called Agent Orange,

both of which have been used,
to lethal effect, in Vietnam.

The more militantly minded
might see it as just cause.

A bomb, though! What are you thinking,
that it's Angry Brigade?

We're keeping an open mind.

But to be on the safe side,

we'd like to put a uniformed constable
on the gate as a deterrent.

Well, if you think so.

Just for the time being.

Until we get to the bottom of things.

Post delivered during a postal strike.
It's unlikely, don't you think?

Alot of private firms have taken up the slack.

Well, I'l get on to anyone local,
see if they've made deliveries today.

- Strange can do that.
- I'm quite capable.

I'm not saying you're not.

It's just there's something else
Mr Bright wants you to look at.

Do you know much about football?

Yes, sir.

Understood.

Just a moment, sir.

Mr Bright said to let you know
he's running late at Division.

But, er...

Miss Frazil's here.

He, er, put her in your office.

- Miss Frazil.
- Chief Inspector. Morse.

Bad moment?

It never rains.

Well, anything I can do
to help the boys in blue.

But I've got to tell you, sitting on a scoop
this big goes against every instinct.

As you can see,
we've kept it out of the paper for now.

But if the threat is on the level,
and God forbid they make good on it,

then it's gonna be all over the front page,
let alone the back.

- What's this?
- There was an anonymous phone call

to the Oxford Mail on Saturday evening,
was it?

Man's voice. Irish.

Said, "This is a message
from the Provisional IRA.

"If Jack Swift plays in the game
on Wednesday against Cowley,

"he'll be shat."

Old or young, from the voice?

Somewhere between 18 and 80.

Ulster accent, like Paisley.

Have you found out
where the call was made?

It was a public phone
in the foyer of the Plaza Hotel.

Well, that could just be a crank, then,
couldn'tit?

Someone who doesn't want Swift
playing against, er...

Cowley Town, cup tie replay.

The Plaza Hotel's only a stone's throw
from Cowley's ground.

It could've been someone
on the way back from the match.

There was an issue
when he first joined the club, wasn't there?

Hate mail, death threats.

Well, we certainly got letters
saying people like Swift

shouldn't be playing for an English club.

People like Swift?
Why, don't Irish footballers...

play for English sides?
Sorry, I don't know much about the game.

There are many Northern Irish players
in the English league.

But as one correspondent put it,

"none with the touch of the tar brush”.

Ah...

It's a race issue, then.

When he first started, maybe.

But Swift's long since
proved himself to the fans.

I mean, he won them promotion from the
Second Division more or less single-handed.

Could there be any connection
with the threat against Swift

and this bomb at Lonsdale?

The Irish, on this side of the water?

I don't think they'd make a play
as bold as that, Miss Frazil.

Well, what's threatening the life
of a leading footballer?

Seems pretty bold to me, Chief Inspector.

Well, that's assuming that
the threat is genuine.

Aren't you?

Well, I think that's rather the conundrum,
don't you?

Jack Swift is to have round-the-clock
local protection until the match is over.

Division's order.

Football's hardly my area of expertise, sir.

I've very little interest in the game.

Which is exactly why you've been chosen.

The last thing we need
is someone with stars in their eyes

who's going to be overwhelmed
by the whole soccer razzamatazz.

Better by far to have someone in place
who's going to keep their eye on the ball.

As it were.

You're all right, are you?

Well, it's a case of having to be, isn't it?

just think my time
will be better spent on the bomb,

rather than playing wet nurse
to some overpaid foothall star.

-"Ouris not to reason why."
- And look how that turned out.

- If it's a real threat...
- But that's the point, isn't it? If.

I just don't want to be on
a dead-end assignment

when I could be helping you find
which lunatic blew up my old college.

But Division knows best.

{Whistle toots)

Right, simple passing drill, boys.

Give and go.

Don't let Jack do all the work, come on!

Hey, work harder than that.

Last one.

{Whistle toots)

MAN: Ah, come on.

We're not taking any notice of that, are we?

It's just some wee buck eejit
trying to put me off my game, is all.

Well, I'm sure there's nothing to it,
Mr Swift.

But lam under strict instructions
to make sure that it stays that way.

How's that?
Kind of like a bodyguard, do you mean?

Well, something like that.

Either myself or one of my colleagues
will be with you at all times.

- Dol have a say?
-No.

You don't.
It's come down from Mr Fenner himself.

He's not taking a gamble with his star striker,
is he, Jack?

- Well, I'm just about to see him.
- What's that?

I've afitting for some clobber
for this fashion thing tonight.

I'll talk to him, Dan.
I'm not afraid of these people.

Nobody's thinking that.

Not for a minute.
We just...

- want to be sensible, that's all.
- Mm.

Is there no way that Mr Swift
can just miss the match?

(He scoffs)

It's a cup tie.

Do you know what that means
for the club financially?

Besides, if I don't play in this game,
what about the next?

When does it stop?

Your son's posted there, isn't he?

Northern Ireland?
Yes, sir. Yes, he is.

Getting on all right?

Hard to tell with, Sam, sir.

He writes home to his mother once a week.
But, er...

with the postal strike.

And Morse...

how's he these days?

Morse is Morse, sir.

You know more than anyone
what last year took out of a soul.

He walks a step slower maybe.

Lost some of his bounce, you mean?

Abit less full of himself.
Abit less cocksure.

That's not always a bad thing.

Abit of uncertainty, a bit of doubt
makes a man more careful in his work.

More thorough.

Perhaps time does that to all of us,
sooner or later.

There are some blows
from which one never quite recovers.

Not fully, at least.

One thing's for sure.

He's no more the kid that
got off the coach from Carshall New Town.

So, you've not noticed anything
out of the ordinary?

- Nobody following you.
- Outside of the press?

No.

I mean, nothing like that.

- Like what, then?
- Look, it's daft.

Last week,
Thursday or Friday maybe,

I was in a taxi coming through town

and I thought I saw someone I knew.

- From home.
- Who?

Afellal used to play football with
when we were kids.

George Sellars.

He married our neighbour's girl.

Only, I was caught in the one-way, right,

and I had the driver go around,
but by the time we'd got back,

there was no sign.

- But do you think it was him?
- Aye, he had the look of George, sure.

But! can't think he'd be in town
and not call.

It's probably my mistake.

But you said
anything out of the ordinary.

I just had a chat with the Forensics boys.

They think the bomb
was inside a plain cardboard hox

wrapped in brown paper and string
on atimer.

No distinguishing features.

Well, that narrows it down a bit.

I've spoken to all the major private services
delivering mail in Oxford.

From Friday until today

none of them had any parcels like that
for the college.

The bomber must have dropped it off himself,
then.

Anything from intelligence
on the usual two-bob radicals?

This is Oxford.

Roll a ball down Carfax,
you'll hit half-a-dozen agitators.

Ban the bomb.
Make love, not war.

AmnOx.

Vegetarians.

They might make a noise, but I can't see
any of that lot blowing people up.

- Back to the Angry Brigade, then?
- Else it's something personal.

Come on, get your coat.

{He turns the engine off)

Cecily, get Solly to cut a new pattern
for a different model.

I just found out Suki's in the pudding club.

Marta, darling, you make sure
you puta bit more into it tonight.

This isn't any old schmutter,
this is the Robert Fenner Spring Colfection.

That's it!

Jackie!

Take five, girls.
Take five.

Jackie, darling, all right?

- Who's your friend?
- Police.

Oh.

Er, Robert Fenner. Fenner Fashions.

Couturier to the stars
and them that'd like to be.

I also happen to be
Chairman of Oxford Wanderers.

So I understand.

Mr Swift tells me he is to attend some, er...

- fashion show tonight.
- Tonight's the launch of Fenner Fashions.

Very important Jackie's here.

More important he doesn't get killed,
don't you think?

Now, I'l need a list of all that are attending.

Nobody's going to do anything to him
in public, are they?

My good lady wife.

Nothing's going to happen to him
with you here, is it?

Tell you what, Cecily, why don't you
take Jackie to try his outfit for tonight on?

- Any alterations, Solly can take care of it
- Of course.

If you'd like to come this way, Jackie.

Let's take a look at that famous inside leg,
shall we?

Aye, but I can't be too long about it.

Ray wants me back at the ground
for a photoshoot.

I had a doctor's appointment
at 4:30 on Friday,

sol came in a little earlier this moming
to make up the time.

Maggie was already in.
She had the kettle on.

Morning, Miss Newell.
You're in early.

I noticed she had a parcel
wrapped in brown paper.

Did you see who it was addressed to?

I noticed it was for the Master.

Only, they'd written Stanfield,

rather than Starfield.

THURSDAY: Stanfield?

With an N?

Yes.

GW Stanfield,

I turned away to do something
and there was a bright light.

That's all I remember.

Was everything well between you?

Oh, yes.

We got on like a house on fire.

How about Professor Stamfield,
with his colleagues and so forth?

No fall-outs there or...?

He had words with Maggie
about her timekeeping.

Sometimes she'd only put her nose
around the door at a quarter or 20 past nine.

It seems silly now...

the things we fret over.

Something like this happens and...

you wonder why you worry.

Mrs Widdowson has a sister,
a Mrs Frida O'Rourke.

I wonder if she knows something.

See if you can run her down,
find out what's what.

- And meet me back at the ranch.
- Sir.

Despite playing for opposing teams,
both Jack Swift and John-Paul Martinelli

are delighted to be associated
with the launch of...

.the Striker from Grenville Cycles.

{Camera shutter clicks)

So, any questions?

Yes, I've a question for Mr Martinelli.

How does it feel to be described as
"the next Jack Swift"?

Oh, there's only one Jack Swift.

He's been my hero since I was at school.

And now you're up against him
on Wednesday.

Any predictions?

Wanderers will have the home advantage
here at The Field.

But Cowley's ready to give it all we've got.
You know, that's the magic of a cup tie.

Anything can happen.

Allright, folks. The boys
have got to get back to their training, so...

Well, thank you very much.

Come on, then, lads.

- You drew the short straw, then.
-Urgh...

So, what's the plan with Swift?

Well, keep him alive, I suppose.
If the threat's genuine.

Are you all right?
You look a hit peaky.

- Ch, I'm fine.
- Sure?

Yeah.

Do you know him, Swift?

Yeah, I've interviewed him once or twice.
He seems nice enough.

Which isn't something
you can say for Ray Jubba, their agent.

- Their agent?
- Yeah, Swift and John-Paul Martinelli.

Ray Jubba manages them both.

- But they play for different sides.
- Not for much longer.

Word is Martinelli's looking to transfer
from Cowley,

and Wanderers are interested.

"The next Jack Swift"?

But the Wanderers have already got
a Jack Swift. Why do they need another?

"And slowly answered Arthur from the barge,

"The old order changeth,
yielding place to new."

Every god has his day, Morse.

I'd better go.

Don't you think you should tell him?

I thought he might take it better
coming from you.

You're the manager, Dan.
I'm just his agent.

It's what they pay you for.

Just let him get the game tomorrow night
out of the way.

And you're keeping in touch
with your family back home now.

Cos...

that's important when you're over here.

Oh, sure.

Duke Ward said to send his best,
by the way.

- When did you see Duke?
-I didn't.

I spoke to him.

You know, on the phone.

OK.

Well...

if you've any problems,
you just let me know.

- Allright?
- Sure thing.

I'l see you tonight.

I mean, tomorrow at the game.

Here, you couldn't get me
that Cheryl's number, could you?

Fancy her, do you?

I can introduce you.

But some things
aman's got to do himself, eh?

Its OK. This is Jim.
He's a policeman.

Aye-aye, Joanie.

Back on the horse, then?

- Dad said you had a time of it.
- Oh, did he?

What's the story here?

Just something I got involved with
through Welfare.

I'm looking for Frida O'Rourke.

Uniform thought she might've come here.

Is she one of yours?

What's it about?

A family matter.

Her sister's been killed.

- Maggie?
- You know her?

Yeah, I know her.
She's visited Frida a couple of times.

What happened, an accident, or...?

Not exactly.

oil
Hope you're looking after my boy.

He means a lot to me.
I'd hate to see anything happen.

You manage them both, I understand.

Their commercial interests, endorsements,
personal appearances, that sort of thing.

- Is it lucrative?
- Put it this way...

when Jack lent his name
to a range of signature boots,

they sold more than half a million
in the first season alone.

59 and 11 a pair for the boys.

149 shillings for men's.

Decent screw in any money,
old or new.

Joan said she'd been by to see you.

Last week.

She just came by
to drop some hits off for the kiddies.

When I left their dad, I had to go quick,

and their toys got left behind.

How was she?

Did she seem all right?
Nothing bothering her? No troubles?

I was going to be maid of honour
and she...

- I'm sorry.
- It's OK. You're all right.

Poor Maggie!

I don't suppose you can get me out
of this thing tonight with Fenner, can you?

Sorry, Jackie, no can do.

It's, you know, all set up
and we've got the papers there.

Sure, Ray.

Sure.

Right, can you, er, just look after him?
I've got to make a phone call.

He's all right, really.

- He's got my best interests at heart.
- Fashion shows?

Photoshoots? Endorsements?

Its a wonder you get time
to play any football at all.

Who's that?

No idea.

He's not ground staff.

Press maybe?

If her old man shows up,
you know where I am.

And if anything ever comes to her
her sister might've said.

Of course.

Well, then.

Mind how you go.

Oh, here...

I've got a do coming up.

A ladies' do, in the spring.

A charity evening.
Dinner dance.

I was wondering...

I don't suppose it'd be up your street?

(She chuckles)

- Somebody let you down?
- No. No, no, no, nothing like that.

You're the first person I've asked.

- [ll believe you.
- No, honest.

We're expected to bring someone.

"James Strange and guest."

What about your girlfriend?

I'm between at the minute.

You'd be doing me a favour.

And it's all for a good cause.

- What time?
- Seven for drinks and canopies.

Sit down's at eight.
Pick you up and drop you back, of course.

Nice, private hire car.
Home by midnight.

(She laughs)

Before I turn into a pumpkin?

(He laughs)

Allright, go on, then.

Really?

Oh, right.

I'l phone you through with the date.
Its not until May, but...

Ta.

{Rock music plays)

MAN OVER PA: Everyone thought
the mini-skirt couldn't really go any higher.

But maybe it could.

Because it seems the thigh's the limit
for lovely Louise,

as she models a pair
of the hottest of hot pants in striped satin.

These are guaranteed to tum
the most everyday behind

into a delectable dermiére.

Would you keep an eye on him
for two minutes

while I go see where my support is?

Yeah, on him.

(Rock music continues)

(He punches a number)

(Phone line rings)

MAN WITH IRISH ACCENT:
I've got everything in place.

Don't worry.
I'l get him at the end of the show.

Well, I've a list of guests from the hotel,
but no names stick out as Irish.

THURSDAY:
Did they say Swift's name?

No, but, "I'll get him at the end of the show."
Who else could they be talking about?

They don't even know
if he's going fo play in the match.

Sure you haven't got your wires crossed?

Saturday's warning call
came from the Plaza Hotel, didn't it?

So, they're here.
I know they are.

Allright, stand to.

Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you for attending
Fenner Fashion's Spring Collection,

sponsored by
Tressell's Building Contractors.

Now, if I could just ask our style ambassador,
Jack Swift,

Mr Goldenboots himself,

up on to the stage for a few photos.

Come on, Jackie, don't be shy.

IRISH ACCENT: Here we go.

(Applause)

That's it, ladies.
Come on, get a slice.

That's right.
Straight down there.

There we go.

That's right.

Now!

FENNER: Thank you.

Hello. How are you?

Jack, sorry to interrupt
such a great show,

but we have another show
for you as well.

Because tonight, Jack Swift,
Oxford Wanderers

and Northern Ireland
international football striker,

this is your life!

(Cheering and applause)

(This Is Your Life theme music plays)

(This Is Your Life theme music plays)

So, Jack, this is your life.

- Eamonn Andrews!
- Well, I don't really watch television.

But you must have heard of him!

Well...

No harm done.
Better safe than sorry.

Though, I expect you'll get it from uniform
when you get back to the nick.

Aye-aye.

What's the latest
on the bombing at Lonsdale?

Outside of the Angry Brigade,
we're coming up short

on whether anybody
has much against Stamfield or the college.

- Well, what about the victim?
- Blameless.

She has a sister
whose husband knocks her about a bit.

But other than that,
the family seems decent.

Her fiancé's broken-hearted over it.

has a special message for you now.

- Hello, Jack.
- Sarah,

I remember when
you were practising your football

and you looked up and saw me
and gave me that cheeky grin.

But even with ail the good luck you've had,
you're still the same...

And her colleague?

Miss Newell didn't have much to say.

Stamfield had had a bit of a go at the girl
over her timekeeping.

But otherwise, all was hunky-dory.

So, have a wonderful night
with your family and friends.

And I hope fo see you soon.

And she'll be seeing you sooner
than you both thought.

You last saw her eight years ago
when you were her husband's best man.

But she's here tonight.
Sarah Coyle then.

Now, Sarah Sellars!

(Applause)

Yes, as Sarah said,

you were never that keen on school work.

And as our next witness will testify,

your eagerness to play football
often got you into trouble.

MAN:
It was only a kick-about after school.

But when he got home,
Jack was really in hot water.

Yes, you've not seen him for a while,

your school pal and
fellow footballing hopeful from Londonderry,

you were best man at his wedding,
George Sellars!

So, tell us, George,
what sort of trouble did Jack used to get in?

Well, down the rec,
we didn't have a proper goal,

50 We'd Use our jumpers
to mark the posts, like.

This one game,
he gets his jumper absolutely wrecked.

He knew he'd catch it off his mam,
50 he borrowed mine.

- Did the deception work, Mrs Swift?
- No, Eamonn, it didn't!

(Laughter)

It wasn't Jackie's name tag
that was sewn into the collar of his sweater,

it was George's,
50 I knew they'd been out and up to no good.

I said to him, "You'll get a clatter
off your daddy when he gets home!"

Rest his soul.

Thank you, George Sellars!

(Applause)

And before long,
your name reached the ears

of someone who was to change
the course of your life.

A docker friend of your late father who,
in his spare time,

acted as part-time coach and talent scout

for football clubs here in England.

- Duke Ward.
- Yes.

That's right, it's the man who spotted
all that young potential,

a legendary football scout in Northern Ireland,
Marmaduke Ward!

Good to see you, Jackie.

Duke, tell me, what was your reaction
when you first saw Jack?

Well, Eamonn, to tell you the truth,
it was terrible.

Five feet, four,
and less meat on him than a whippet.

But I knew, the moment I saw this fella,

that he could be something
very, very special

if he put the hard work in
and had somebody to take him in hand.

We got him up to the mark

and then I had no hesitation
in recommending him to the Wanderers.

And I think you'll agree,
he hasn't done too bad so far.

Indeed, he hasnt.

Thank you, Duke Ward.

(Applause)

Now, to close tonight,
we have someone else

who's here to pay tribute to you.

Avyoung man to whom
you were a schoolboy hero,

and who may himself be facing
the kind of adulation you've gotten used to.

That's right, Eamonn,
But there's only one Jack Swift

Yes, that's right.
It's the young striker

who's being hailed as
“the next Jack Swift".

Cowley Town centre-forward
and Norther Ireland international...

.John-Paul Martinelli!

(Applause)

I saw him this morning and he never let on.

So, John-Paul,
what is it you'd like to say to Jack?

Jack, you've been a hero, not just to me,
but to thousands of other schoolboys.

And I know everyone hack home
and here in the UK is just so proud of you,

and what you've achieved in your career.

Well, hopefully, it's not over yet!

- (Laughter)
- Indeed not.

But for now, at least, Jack Swift...

his is your life.

(Theme music and applause)

{Champagne cork pops)

My playing days are mostly behind me.

Oh, look, here he is.
It's Duke.

The unluckiest man in showbusiness.

Now, what was it you made
for discovering Jack?

15 quid finders fee, wasn't it?

On top of the £2.10 a week retainer,
of course.

No.

No, you should come and work for me.

Well, for some of us,
it's not about the money.

But then, I wouldn't expect a man like you
to know anything about that.

- What man like me?
- A parasite.

Where were you on the freezing, cold
winter mornings I had him out training?

Nowhere.
That's where you were.

And yet,
you've bled Jack near enough dry.

And now you've got your claws
into John-Paul.

So, you're all set to ruin him, too.

You're a grasper.

You make me sick to my stomach.

Hm...

All that stamina.

I think that when you come and play
for the Wanderers

that we're going to be very good friends.

Oh, it's you.

Be a darling
and go and fetch me a little drinkie.

I'm a detective sergeant at Thames Valley,
Mrs Fenner.

I'm not a wine waiter.

I'm sure your husband
can freshen your glass.

- Er, vodka martini, wasn't it, Mrs Fenner?
- Cecily.

Please.

No mistaking you for Cupid, is there?

Sweetheart...

You might have mentioned this.

Oh, well, we were all sworn to secrecy,
weren't we?

But you knew it was going to happen
when there was a threat against his life.

Er, what can I say?

I don't know what this threat business is about
any more than you do.

I'm grateful you're looking out for him.

But by this time tomorrow,
itll all be over.

Well, no, the threat was if he played.

He hasn't played yet.

(He clears his throat)

Mr Lofthouse...

The Doncaster Dynamo.

I saw you play against Millwall
in, er, '54, was it? A cup tie.

I used to take my boy Sam there
when he was small.

Before we moved to Oxford, of course.

Come on, let's split.

But what about your family?
t's...

It's your party.

They're not here for me.

Right, OK.

Hey, Jack, can I get you a drink?

Not right at the minute, Georgie.

Are you sure?
Cos I know Sarah'd love to catch up.

She must've just nipped out
to powder her nose.

- She'll be back in a minute, I'm sure.
- I can't have a late night, George.

I've got the match tomorrow.

- Are you staying on for it?
- Yeah, of course.

We're all put up at the Plaza.

Your mum and sisters and everyone.

Great.

Great, we'll do something after, then.
0K?

Home!

WIN: You're late, Dad!

Work went on.

You missed Sam on the telephone.

I gave him your best.

All right over there, is it...

with the locals?

Behaving themselves?

He didn't say.

I asked if he was looking after himself.
He said he was.

- Il put the kettle on.
- Nothing for me this late.

Fair dos.

Here...

- you'll never guess who I met tonight.
- Who? Someone we know?

Eamonn Andrews.

Eamonn Andrews?

Fancy!

What's he like?

Very nice.

But not as tall as he looks on the tele.

Sorry to drag you away.

I just had to get out.

You know, get away.

Sometimes, it takes me like that.

I get tired of it.

Of what?

Being Jack Swift.

What, the adulation, women, money?

- My commiserations!
- Aye.

It looks great from the outside.

But everyone wants something.

A signed photo.
A cut of your wages.

To be your friend.

To take them to bed
so they can run to the papers about it.

And what do you want?

The love of a good woman.

I had one, too.

And I let her go.

It was putto me I had to choose.

It was her...

or success at the football.

There's not a day goes by...

(He chuckles)

And now they want to kill me for it.

Have you got a girl?

Er, no.

No, not at the moment.

I could get some company over.
Make a call.

Well, erm, I mean, I'm on duty.

And, er...

And you've got a big game tomorrow.
You should probably get some rest.

- To those about to die.
- Well, hopefully not!

(He chuckles)

No, no, I'l, er...

['l just stick to the crossword.

Yeah.

Get your clothes on and get out,
you little bitch!

How dare you!

[kill yout!

You said it was over!
You walked out! You left!

I thought you'd come after me.

Instead, I spend three weeks
bored out of my mind at the George VV.

- (Doorbell chimes)
- Which you're paying for!

I'm paying for?

And now I come back to find the place
filled with your stupid, bloody tarts!

Don't walk away from me!

- Yes?
- Morse.

I'm your relief.
Bill Shaw, Special Branch.

You'd better get home, get some kip.
You must be beat.

- {He groans)
-Is,er.?

Is that his piece, is it, the blondie one?

- Yeah, apparently.
- Nice work if you can get it.

And if anyone can get it, he can.

You won't have seen the paper.
It's all over.

If there was no threat to him before,
a headline like that

will drag every lunatic
out of the woodwork.

And take your bloody rubbish with you!

Let the girl get her knickers on.

Jesus...

- Sorry, love.
- First time for everything, hey?

Detective Sergeant Bill Shaw,
Special Branch.

He'll be looking after you this afternoon.

I'l be back this evening.

"The love of a good woman..."
When did she arrive?

First thing.

1 did get an early night,
like you said, but...

Well...

breakfast of champions.

MASTER: I have already addressed the
concerns of John Sarson with him directly.

And as far as the college is concemed...

.no further action need be taken.

My apologies.

I'm afraid, if I don't follow
my train of thought to its terminus,

find it difficult to pick up the thread.

What can I do for you?

We've spoken to Miss Newell
at the hospital yesterday.

She's recovering, I trust?

Seems to be.

She says you and Miss Widdowson
had words about her timekeeping.

I had to take her to task.

But it wasn't about her timekeeping.

Rather, her poor and haphazard filing.

To be honest,
her spelling was not all one might wish.

But, really, that was nothing.

Not nothing to the girl.

She was in tears, apparently.

I perfectly accept I can be a little brusque.

But, truly, 'm not in the habit
of reducing my staff to tears.

Whatever upset her that afternoon...

Jit wasn't me.

STRANGE: Aye-aye, matey.

- What's the latest?
- We had another go at the Master.

And another word with his colleagues

to see if anyone might want
to blow him to kingdom come.

Not an enemy in the world, apparently.

The Master of an Oxford college
without an enemy?

That would be a miracle.

- And what about the bomb?
- Regular cardboard box.

Wrapped in brown paper.

Tied with string.

Handwritten address.

Well, what's left of it.
Meant for Stamfield.

Looks to have been a time bomb,
according to the Forensics boys.

Dynamite wired up to an alarm clock.

Simple, but effective.

And is that consistent
with the Angry Brigade's other devices?

I've put a request in to the Yard
for furthers and betters,

but things are moving fast
since the Barnet arrest on Saturday

and they're playing their cards close.

What do you make to that?

The bomb lads couldn't say.
Most likely it happened in the explosion.

Residue traces of wax, clay
and some sort of colourant.

Your cutting it fine, aren't you?
What time's kick-off?

Oh, not ill 7:30.
But I'm relieving the Branch man at 6:00.

Right.

Well, see you there, then.

(Spectators cheer and chant)

Oh, there you are'
Where the bloody hell have you been?

- Oh, sorry, we got caught in the crowd.
- Yeah?

Never mind the Micks
taking a crack at him.

Il give him the full treatment
if he's late for the team talk again.

Ball in the hack of the net, isn't it, boss?
Same as last week.

[I've grand from here.

Morse, I hear you, er...

enjoyed a night with the stars.

- This is Your Life, wasn't it?
-Oh..!

DCI Thursday said he's very nice.

Eamonn Andrews.

Though less tall
than he appears on the television.

Oh, well, I couldn't say, sir.

Well, your charge should be in safe hands.

Division have permitted
an additional 200 officers,

besides those who normally
cover such a game.

COMMENTATOR: A very warm welcome
to you on this chilly February evening.

If you're just joining us,
we're here af The Field,

Oxford Wanderers' home ground,

for this fifth-round cup fie reply
against neighbours Cowley Town,

It promises to be a thriller.

With a strike by Jack Swit

Oxford Wanderers
came from a goal behind.

Ah, good evening.

Can he work his particular brand of magic
again tonight?

Cowley Town, despite the presence of the
fabulous young striker John-Paul Martinelli,

are very much the underdogs.

(Whistle blows)

Come on, ref!

Swift's tackle was not as clean
as it might have been.

(Spectators shout and chant in distance)

And we're deep info injury time
in this second half.

According fo my watch,
there is less than one minute left fo play.

Swift steps up fo take
the most important free kick of his career.

This must surely be the last kick
of the match.

(Spectators roar)

Yes!

(Whistle blows)

And Oxford Wanderers are through
to the sixth round of the FA Cup.

And some supporters are on the pitch now.

- We are witnessing scenes here...
- Bright to all units.

Protect the target.

All eyes on Swift.

(Spectators chant and cheer)

- Have you seen Swift?
- Dressing room, I think.

We need him out of there.
Get him out of there!

- You're sure he got off the pitch?
- He was ahead of me.

He'll be in the bath by now
if you want fo scrub his back.

Look, I'l keep an eye on him
and bring him up to the clubroom after, yeah?

Allright.

LOFTHOUSE: Well done, lads!

The club moved to The Field
here at Potter's Lane in 1897.

It'd been church land
up until the Reformation.

Then, after that,
one of the colleges here got ahold of it

and they leased it back to the town
as somewhere to bury their paupers.

So, from Potter's Field
to The Field, Potter's Lane.

Itold you,
we had nothing to worry about.

I thought he'd have been here by now.

Oh, they'll be having a few drinks,
afew laughs.

Getting warm in the bath.

Just young men
enjoying a bit of male camaraderie.

Taking bets as to which one
of these lovely, young ladies

is going to be a notch on their bedpost
by morning.

I'm guessing you weren't the sporty type.
More of a bookworm.

Am I right?

Are you in need of a refill there, Graham?

This is my very dear friend Mr Tressel.

This is Jackie's bodyguard, Morse.

Oh, you sponsored the fashion show
last night.

Sorry, Robert.

Erm, Graham,
may I introduce you to our Lady Mayoress?

Of course.

The warp and weft of civic life.

Commerce, too, I should think.

An evening at the football
as guest of the club chairman,

it must be an atmosphere
convivial for business.

Oh, well, what can I tell you?
It's good to be king.

Are you looking for Jackie, Mr Ward?

I'd leave him be a wee while.

It's not a good time, I don't reckon.

Come on, Jack'll see us in the bar.

Where's Jack? I thought you said
you were going to bring him up.

- thought he'd come ahead.
- No.

{Woman sobs loudly)

- What is it?
- He's...

Ch, my God!

Why weren't you watching him?

Oh...

Dead less than two hours.

I don't want to jump the gun
ahead of the postmortem,

but death would appear to be by drowning.

However, there is also a sizeable wound
to the back of cranium.

Could it have been accidental, Doctor?

He's slipped, fallen, hit his head perhaps?

It's possible.

But more likely the blow
knocked him unconscious

and he pitched forward into the water.

- A blow from what?
- I recovered that from the bath.

Forensics haven't had a go at it yet,

but t's the right size and weight
to fit the bill.

Number 10.

That's Swift's jersey, isn't it?

His girlfriend thought it was Swift, sir.

Easy mistake to make, I suppose,
if you're face-down in the water.

Then, whoever did this,

and presumably we advance from a position
of suspecting foul play,

- must have made the same error.
- Hell of a thing to get wrong.

Well, a room full of steam.

If they came upon him from behind,

one could see how such a mistake
might be made.

The threat was that Swift would be shot,
wasn't it, sir?

Uniform searched everyone coming
into the ground for concealed weapons.

Perhaps he had to improvise
with whatever was to hand.

Of all things, what was Martinelli doing
wearing another man's jersey?

It's not unknown for players to swap shirts,
sir, as a souvenir of their encounter.

A mark of respect, sort of thing.

Afan, perhaps, angry about the result.

According to uniform and the ground staff,

none of the punters
managed to get down here.

The tunnel gate was locked once all the
players and officials were safely off the pitch.

Then whoever did for him
was already inside the stadium.

What about his team-mates,
where are they?

The manager and most of the rest
have gone their own way.

Those that stuck around for the booze-up
are still in the directors' box.

Easy for anyone to slip out for five minutes.

And Swift,
what does he say about all this?

We haven't managed
to speak to him yet, sir.

I'd have thought he'd be first on your list.

He doesn't appear
to be in the building, sir.

So, we have one dead footballer...

..and one whose life has been threatened
now missing!

What do you think, Thursday?
Could Swift have done this?

He had a pretty nasty set-to with Martinelli
onthe pitch.

If they swapped shirts, though, sir,

it suggests any differences
have been forgotten.

Very well, Il make my report to Division.

You can brief me on any developments
in the moming.

Carry on.

Make a start with statements and particulars
from all interested parties, Jim.

Set aside any without an alibi
since the end of the match.

Sir.

When Jack didn't come back
with the rest of the boys to the party,

I came down here to look for him.

And you didn't see anyone else down there,
didn't pass anyone on the stairs?

No.

I just saw him lying there in the water
and thought...

You thought that it was Jack.

(She sobs)

If somebody wanted to kill Martinelli,
there's plenty of other places to do it.

Why here? Why now?

Well, perhaps it wasn't planned.

Maybe it was a spur of the moment.

Martinelli was wearing
Jack Swift's jersey, ves.

But only someone who'd never seen Jack
before could mistake the one for the other.

- Even from behind?
- Well, I think, if I were an assassin,

I'd want to be pretty sure of my target.
Wouldn't you?

I just can't believe it.

That lovely, young boy.

I was only talking to him
after Jack's This Is Your Life.

You've been here
in this clubroom all evening, have you?

Yes. So has Robert.
Haven't you?

What's this?

You haven't left the clubroom
or the box tonight.

Well, I did have to wash my hands.

But I bumped into Ray, Mr Jubba,
in the gents.

He was attending to his hair. We got talking.
Made our way back here.

So you've been with somebody all evening.

That's right.
And even if I hadn't been, I'm in the rag trade.

I'm not given to going round
murdering young footballers.

Especially ones I'm about to sign.

I'd just come down to tell Jackie
well done on the win, you know.

But he was having a hit of a row
with his man Jubba, so...

I just went back to the do.

George Sellars will tell you.
He came back up with me.

You saw Jack Swift?

Well, he had his back to me,
but I recognised his shirt.

That wasn't Jack.
That was John-Paul Martinelli.

What are you saying?

Is it John-Paul something's happened to
and not Jack?

Oh, God, no!

Say that's not true!
I don't believe you.

All that talent.

All that skill.

He could've been
ten times the player Jack is.

What a waste!

1 came down to say well done to Jackie.

Only, I could see he was having a set-to
with the bloke that handles his business.

So, me and Duke
just came back up again.

Except what you're saying now...

dt wasn't Jack?

No, that's right.

- So, you came straight back up here after?
- Aye. Well, Duke...

Er, Mr Ward stopped off at the gents
for a Jimmy.

I had Jack's mum and that to see to,
50 I just left him to it.

It was you, you bastard!

What did you do to him?
That wee boy!

What do you mean, what have I done?
I haven't done anything.

I saw you with him!

I thought it was Jackie you were talking to.
But it was John-Paul.

Would he not go along
with your wee scheme, is that it?

Allright now, Duke, that's enough.

- What scheme would that be?
- Well, he knows!

They're all in on it.
I'l'kill you, you rotten...

(Shouting)

- Get him out! Get him out!
- 11 kill youl!

Allright, I'm sorry, I just saw red.

All right, what was that all about?

John-Paul phoned me up before the match.

- He wanted to ask my advice.
- About what?

That Jubba, his agent,
or whatever the hell he is...

told him that
if a chance came up to score tonight,

he was to stick it over the top
or put it wide.

He should throw the match?

If he wanted to come to the Wanderers,
that is.

There's some sort of betting syndicate
behind it.

Absolute tripe.

Duke Ward, he's a bitter,
washed-up, old has-been.

The boys he discovered, Jack,
John-Paul, rest his soul,

made small fortunes,
living the high life,

and he's cycling round Ulster
in all weathers

still panning for gold.

The other moming, after the photoshoot,
I overheard you and Ray Jubba

discussing telling someone something
after the match.

Who was it?
What were you going to tell them?

That? It...

Well, it's got no bearing
on what might have happened to John-Paul.

It can't have.

We'll be the judge of that.

We were talking about...

putting Jack out on loan to Fulchester.
That was all.

Look, there...

There's no shame in it.

He's had a good run.

12 years.

He's just...

not what he was.

Which of us is, Mr Lofthouse?

I suppose the day that the next man's
just that half a yard faster

comes to all of us sooner or later.

I suppose, for Swift,
Martinelli was that man.

- Nobody can outrun time.
- Not even Jack Swift.

Do you think he could've done it?

SWIFT: Morse! Here he is,

Who's this?

This is Detective Chief Inspector Thursday.

Mr Swift.

- So, what happened to you?
- [couldn't face it.

Come on, don't be mad.

Have a drink.

We can't protect you if you just disappear,
Mr Swift.

That's done with, isn't it?
We played the match. Nothing happened.

Well, you might have told Miss Eriksson
you were leaving.

Sure, you know what she's like.
I couldn't.

Is she upset?

- Where did you go?
- I came back here.

- Alone?
- Of course, alone.

That looked like a nasty set-to
with John-Paul Martinelli.

The cheeky wee sh...

(He chuckles)

That's just the game, you know.

I shook his hand when the whistle went
and we swapped shirts.

Then the fans started pouring onto the pitch
and we just legged it.

- Did you see him when you got off?
-No.

I looked for him,
just to make sure he was all right, like.

Make sure the fans hadn't got to him,
missing that free kick.

- Why?
- He's dead.

He was found earlier this evening.
in the home team changing room...

wearing your shirt.

Jesus...

Oh, my God.

They didn't think that he was me,
did they?

What happened, is he shot?

We can't be sure
it was a case of mistaken identity.

But we do believe...

that foul play was involved.

Your friend Mr Ward seemed to think
he'd got caught up in some kind of racket.

- How do you mean?
- Fixing the game.

He got it into his head
your agent was involved.

No, man.

That's just Duke.
You don't...

You don't want to put anything into
what he says.

That's just his way.

(Front door closes)

What the hell are you playing at?

I've been going out of my mind!

There was no need.
I'm perfectly fine.

Mr Swift...

Come on...

Will you be all right minding the shop
till the relief gets here?

Right-ho.

(Front door closes)

(Doorbell chimes)

You had some excitement last night,
didn't you?

Word is, whoever they sent after him
got the wrong man.

Well, that presumes
it was who they sent after him.

If you ask me, I think the whole thing's
a bloody wild-goose chase.

Perhaps.
The coffee's on.

MORSE:
{ think, if I hated someone enough

to kill them,
I'd know how to spell their name.

Don't you?

Someone smart playing the fool?

Smart enough to know that Stamfield
wouldn't open his own post, certainly.

There was a Valentine card.

At her bedsit.
From her fiancé, I took it.

Noel Baxter.

No, in the wreckage of her office.

It's possible a girl could have
two unknown admirers.

True.

Butitd be handy to know who he was,
this other man, don't you think?

Further to your letter the 3rd inst,

as mentioned
in my previous correspondence,

the college's position on entertaining...

- You still do The Pools?
- Yeah.

I've been at the old eight from ten
for 35 years

and never won so much
as a thruppenny bit.

Why do you still doit?

I'm an optimist.

I used to do it with Sam
when he was small, you know.

We'd study the league results in the paper,
who'd won, who'd lost

and who was due for a draw.

I used to take him down Potter's Lane
when we first came to Oxford.

The Field,
you know, the Wanderers' ground,

watch the home game from the terraces.

Did you ever...?

No.

tl be useful to know who Miss Widowson's
other admirer was, don't you think?

Well, we're going to be tied up
with Martinelli

And if you're going to be fit
for keeping an eye on Swift all night,

- if I was you, I'd get some kip.
- Oh, I'll sleep when 'm dead.

Did you give your fiancée
a Valentine's card?

I was working in Hastings
over the weekend, and...

what with the post being what it is,

I dropped it round her flat Monday afternoon
on my lunch break.

Dropped it round her flat, yeah?

How did she seem,
the last time you saw het?

Excited.

She'd just come into some money,
or was about to.

A great aunt was very ill, and Maggie said
she'd always been her favourite, so...

So she had expectations?

Enough for a deposit on a flat for us,
she thought.

- Did she?
- Yeah.

It was a relief, as her bedsit
had been burgled the week before last.

- Not that there was much to take.
- She reported it, presumably?

To the police?

I old her to, but...

.she couldn't see the paint.

MASTER:
A special service to commemorate

the loss of Miss Widdowson

will be held on the second Sunday
after Sepfuagesima...

..and all the academic faculty
will be expected to attend.

- Thank you for waiting.
- No problem.

- You were here on Monday?
- That's right.

- Is there news?
- I'm afraid not.

I'm just following a few avenues of inquiry.

I wonder, did Miss Widdowson
ever talk to you about her personal life?

-Tome?
- Mm-hm.

No.
Not particularly, I don't recall.

But you knew she was engaged,
presumably.

Miss Newell may have mentioned it.

I wonder, did she have any admirers
here at college?

If there were, it's not something
she ever vouchsafed to me.

Mm.

l understand,
in the general scheme of things,

she wouldn't ordinarily have been in the office
at the time of the explosion.

There isn't an hour goes by
1 don't reproach myself, believe me.

One can't conduct business with others as if
they might be about to die at any moment.

But...

.God knows how many times
these past few days

I've wished I'd never given Miss Widdowson
aticking off.

(He rattles a locked drawer)

(Cabinet door creaks open)

(Knocking, door opens)

Forensics came back with a set of dabs
on the champagne bottle.

It's a match for one of the sets
we took last night.

Not leaving us, Mr Sellars?

No.

- Just seeing Jack's family to the station.
- Fair enough.

We're gonna need a further statement
from you about last night.

Marmaduke Ward?

I'm arresting you on suspicion
of the murder of John-Paul Martinelli.

Mr Sarson?

Thank you.

- She was typing up a paper for you?
- My thesis.

Mm.

There was a Valentine's card
recovered from the office.

One four three.

She liked to do the crossword
on her way into work...

.on the 33.

One four three.

I love you.

Did she know how you felt about het?

No.

Were you aware
she was engaged to be married?

I'd seen her engagement ring, of course.

But...

.a fella can hope.

- When did you leave the card?
- Before it got light on Monday.

And how did you get into college?

In through here, the fellows' garden.

There's a gate that gives on to the lane.

It's kept shut overnight,

though you can snick the lock
if you have the knack.

lt was already open when I got here.

As a matter of fact, I almost got caught

MORSE: It was the Master?

I didn't see his face,
but the lights were on in his rooms

and he was coming out of the office.

So, I assumed he was just in early to work.

And when you left the Valentine's card...

did you notice a brown paper package
on Maggie's desk?

I'm sorry, I...

I was so rattled
by almost running into old Stammers,

my heart was in my mouth.

just dropped the card off and ran.

Right.

I've stood on the sidelines
of football pitches in all weathers.

This playing field, that youth club.

Nights so freezing cold I couldn't feel
my hands or feet cycling back home.

All for the game.

(He scoffs)

All those boys whose early promise
never came to anything.

The ones who lacked the nerve.

The ones who would get some girl
in the family way...

.and then grind all the hopes
that you had for them into the dirt.

Year in, year out.

You wonder what the hell you've done
with your life.

And then, one day...

you see a boy...

with talent so out of the ordinary...

that it could only have come from
the Almighty.

Jack Swift.

You do what you can
to take them under your wing.

You know...

train them up.

And then watch them throw it all away
on trivial things.

Fast living.

Women. Cars.

Frivolities.

You were afraid history would repeat itself
with Martinelli.

I found that boy.

1 gave him the world.

I tried to warn him about Ray Jubba.

But...

he just turned away from me,
like I was some...

..beggarman.

Is that when you hit him?

We've got your fingerprints
on the champagne bottle.

I took the bottle off him.

He was about to open it.

I said to him,
"Is this what you want?

"Is this all it means to you?"

I took the bottle off him,

but I set it down on the bench by the door
on my way out.

Harm a hair on that wee boy's head?

I'd sooner have cut my own throat.

{He turns the engine off)

Morse.

Miss Thursday.

I'm, er...
I'm looking for a Mrs O'Rourke.

Maggie's sister.

Jim came by. Strange.

Em...

she's taken her little girl to the park.
She'll be back soon.

If you want to wait.

Do you want a drink?

Bit early for me.

And fo be honest, 'd sooner you didn't...

if you're gonna talk to the kids.
It's just most of them have experience of...

men who reek of booze.

Well...

. waste not, want not.

Thanks.

You never used to be so censorious.

Well, you never used to put it away
in the middle of the afternoon.

"Put it away in the middle of the afternoon?
Come on.

What will be next?
"I'm going back to mother"?

I feel like I missed something.

No.

Are you sure?

Well, if you did, then it was nothing much.

The mess you mentioned when you wrote,
did you manage to put it right, or...?

Oh, yes, that all...
That all ended as it should.

Morse...

What is this place?

Some kind of halfway house?

I don't know it from the council list.

It's not council.

Just...

somewhere they can get away to.

If they need help.
Somewhere they can be safe.

You're saving the world.

(She chuckles)

One woman at a time.

What's she like, Mrs O'Rourke?

Jim didn't say?

Well, I think Detective Sergeant Strange
has many qualities,

but I wouldn't rank sensitivity
paramount amongst them.

Oh, I don't know.

In my experience, he can be quite thoughtful
when the occasion demands it.

In your experience?
You want to try living with him.

I heard he ended up in hospital.

Dad said you saved him.

No.

No, you shouldn't believe everything
that you hear.

And poor Mr Bright.

Yeah, it was a bad year.

How was, erm...?

- Stevenage.
- Mm.

I thought it might be a new start.

Butit turns out...

children can be just as miserable
and neglected there as they can in Oxford.

And with Sam away,
I didn't like to leave Mum.

So...

I came back.

Hm.

Did Mrs O'Rourke ever mention a great aunt
of whom she had expectations?

Not to me.

I really think she should be here
if you're going to go through her things.

I'm not going through her things.
I'm just looking.

What was it Miss Widdowson
brought for the children?

Just a box of toys and the doll's house.

Why?

Well, I think she thought...

..someone intended her harm.

Her bedsit was broken into last week.

- She was burgled?
- No, that's not what I said.

I think someone was looking for something.

Only, they didn't find it because...

she's hidden it somewhere safe.

THURSDAY: Professor Stamfield...

Can we have a word?

Yes, of course.

You'll have to excuse me.
We're still in a state of some disarray after...

after the tragedy.

Still managing to keep up
with your correspondence, though.

I should think that thing's a godsend,
isntit?

Oh, yes.

- I don't know what I ever did without it.
-I'm partial to a gadget, myself.

These, er, cassette tapes they have now,
is it?

That's right.

My sergeant played me a cassette tape
he came by this afternoon.

I'd be glad of your opinion of it.
Morse...

It has come to my atfention
that undergraduates

have been using
the fellows' garden entrance affer curfew.

- Not only is this...
- Mr Fenner, Master.

Robert!
Come in, do.

- Thank you, Maggie.
- Thank you Maggie.

Sherry, or something stronger?

Er, Scotch, if we're celebrating.

I say, this is smart.
I must get me one of these.

- Testing, testing...
- I wouldn't be without it.

Of course, it's no substitute
for a pert little secretary on one's lap.

Absolutely!

So...

The Field.

The Field that Fenner mentions
is the Wanderers' home turf.

Now, the team is so-called because,
originally,

they shared a ground with any football
or rughy club who'd have them.

But in 1897 they were granted
a 75-year lease on a field at Potter's Lane

by the college that owned the land.
This college.

THURSDAY: 1897.

Which means the lease expires next year.

Worth a bob or two, I should think,
the land the stadium sits on.

- I can explain.
- Let's hope so.

Because, as the tape goes on,

it sounds like you're conniving with Fenner

to make sure the college
refuses to renew the Wanderers' lease.

Then, presumably after a decent interval,

Fenner acquires the land for redevelopment

and you get a fee for services rendered.

MASTER:
The college must never find out

FENNER:
I've got as much to lose as you,

If the Wanderers got wind

that their chairman had conspired to steal
their home ground out from under them,

the fans would string me up.

So, don't worry.
No-one will find out.

If's just befween you and me.

But unfortunately, it didn't stay
just between you and Fenner, did it?

As she does every afternoon,

Maggie Widdowson came in
fo collect the cassette tape

and fype up your correspondence.

Is that affogether legal, Robert?

Well, if it was, you wouldn't be in line
for 15% kickback on the deal, would you?

She told her fiancé that she was expecting
a bequest from a great aunt.

We spoke to her family.

There was no great aunt.

Nor was there any windfall due.

So, how much did she ask for?

5,000.

Is that what she died for, £5,000?

Against all that you and Fenner
stood to make?

No.

- I wanted to pay her off.
- So, why didn't you?

Swift not training today?

No, the manager's given him the day off
after everything.

MORSE:
We've just come from Lonsdale.

Presumably it was Mr Tressell,

the building contractor
who sponsored your fashion show,

- that provided you with the dynamite.
- What's this?

Though I don't suppose he knew
it was meant for the bomb

you used to kill Maggie Widdowson.

The country reeling from a spate
of bombings by the Angry Brigade,

yours might have been taken for the same.

Only, this time, with fatal consequences.

You can't prove a word of this.

Actually, we can.

The fragments that remain of the brown paper
that the bomb was wrapped in

show that it had been marked
with a substance containing wax, clay

and colourant
Dressmaker's chalk.

On the same brown paper
I'd seen used by your pattern cutter

ahead of your fashion show.

You're gonna need more than that.

We've also got the alarm clock
you used as a timer.

What's left of it, at least.

Forensics have put it back together.

So there's that.

I've never owned an alarm clock.

- Really?
- No.

Only, it matches one
ina photograph of Mrs Fenner

taken in your bedroom
that appeared in the colour supplement.

You must think I'm a fool.

What sort of a man
would use materials from work

and his wife's own alarm clock
to make a bomb?

Avery arrogant man.

The kind who thinks an explosion
would destroy all evidence

that could trace the bomb back to him.

We also have a confession
from your accomplice, of course.

Now, Professor Stamfield told us
that you'd told him

you'd leave the hush money that
Maggie Widdowson demanded on her desk.

But instead, you left an explosive.

-He's a liar.
- You were seen...

leaving the Master's office in the early hours
of the morning by a young man

infent on leaving a Valentine's card
fo the woman you murdered.

The gown and mortarboard
was a nice fouch.

But no don would be abroad
in full academic rig at that time of night.

THURSDAY: What was it?

You thought she'd ask for more?
That's usually the way with blackmailers.

Or did you just want to make sure
her mouth was shut?

Robert Fenner, I am arresting you
for the murder of Maggie Widdowson.

BRIGHT: They've admitted it?

Both declining to answer
on the advice of their lawyers, sir.

Much good that will do
when they've already condemned themselves

out of their own mouths on the recording.

Taken together with the forensic evidence,

I can't see any jury giving them
the benefit of the doubt.

Well...

excellent work.

- Carry on.
- Sir.

Sir, are you sure Ward wasn't at
the Plaza Hotef on Saturday?

We checked.

The call was made on Saturday,
but none of the guests for This Is Your Life

were booked into the Plaza till Monday.

No, that's not entirely correct.

Swift said he saw one of them
in town last week.

Detective Sergeant Morse, Mrs Sellars.
Chief Inspector Thursday.

Thames Valley.
Is your husband here?

- No, not at the minute.
- Perhaps you can help us.

- It's not very convenient.
- We shan't take long.

Oh, could you leave that, please?

I've a bad headache.

When did you get to Oxford
for the This Is Your Life programme?

Monday.

You flew in, or...?

Yes, the programme sent the...

They took care of all that.

And your husband?
When did he get in to Oxford?

- He came with me.
- Really?

Only, he was seen here last week.

Is yours a happy marriage, Mrs Sellars?

I'm as happy as I've always been.

Your husband?

Why?

Atthe party after the show the other night,
he was jealous.

- Of you and Jack Swift?
-Me and Jack?

God, no.

You wore a ring on a chain
in the message that you made for him.

I saw that ring this morning
at Mr Swift's house.

Mrs Sellers?

We bunked off school and went to Portrush.

This beautiful blue day.

Barry's Amusement Park.

Down the arcade there were these gumball
lucky dip machines.

You put your money in and tum the handle
and it's a surprise,

cos you don't know
what you're gonna get.

Out pops this little plastic egg thing.

We opened it up and there it was,
a heart-shaped ring.

He closed it on my finger
and said he loved me.

I could probably have been Mrs Swift, too.

We might've had a regular life together.

Only, Duke Ward put the finish to it.

How's that?

He told Jack he wouldn't recommend him
for trials over here.

He made it plain.

It was me or football.

So, Jack Swift got fame and fortune,
and you got his best friend.

I don't know if it's just he wanted
something Jack had had

or if he felt something for me, but...

.. George asked and, by that stage,
I didn't much care one way or another.

Right, so, why was your ring
in Mr Swift's house?

He came to see me after the match.

When he saw what George had done.

Why?

['l'kill him.

Stop, now.

- Stop.
- You were always my girl, Sarah.

I never stopped loving you.

I love you still.

Come on Jack, stop.
Em...

It's half a lifetime ago.

You're in love with a girl dead and gone
these 15 years. I'm not her any more.

And she's not me.

Here...

I've held on to it long enough.

Some things you have to let be.

You should go.

THURSDAY:
If Jack Swift wasn't the cause

of your husband's jealousy,
then who was it?

John-Paul Martinelli.

It was him that your husband was looking for
when he ran into Duke Ward, not Jack.

He was a good-looking boy.
But it was nothing.

Five minutes in a laundry closet.
Just...

fun.

Abit of life.

- How did your husband find out?
- Oh, he smelt his aftershave on me.

So, what was he doing in Oxford last week?

I don't know.

But he has a gun in the case.
I saw it when he was packing.

- Why would your husband have a gun?
- He doesn't tell me the half of it.

Out with the lads after dark
playing soldiers with the boyos.

So, you're saying, what,
he's part of some Loyalist militia?

You think it's just the other side
deals in guns and bombs?

You people,
you get what you see in the papers,

but you've really no idea how things are.

The Order, the 12th,
the pipes and drums.

Them hating us, us hating them.

Where is he, Mrs Sellars?
Where's your husband?

(She sighs)

(Doorbell chimes)

Are you expecting anyone?

(Gunshot)

Christ!

- What have you done? Is he dead?
- He'd better be.

- (She screams)
- Shut up!

Bridge, be quiet, love.
George...

Whatever this is, she's no part of it.

- Have you gone mad?
- By order of the Brigade Staff.

The Brigade?
The bloody Blacknecks?

Tried in absentia and found guilty
of providing funds...

Georgie...

funds to the Provisional
Irish Republican Army.

What? Where?

You played in a charity exhibition
five-a-side game last year.

Some of the proceeds
went to enemies of the Crown.

Jesus, George!
I must do 50 charity things a year!

I don't know what it's for
or where the money goes.

Ray organises my time.
I just turn up and play!

- That's too bad.
- Wait a minute, please...

Five-a-side was for, er...

was for youth clubs.

It was for kids who like football, George.

Same as we did.

It was for kids.

GEORGE: Catholic kids.

And some part of the money you raised
found its way into the Taigs' war chest.

The sentence is death, Jackie.

You tell them I wasn't afraid.

[ll tell them you begged.

Then you'll be a liar as well as a killer.

The mission's over, Mr Sellars.

You?

Jesus, God!

- Do I have to have a massacre here?!
- No, nobody dies here.

If you kill Jack,
all sympathy for your cause will be gone.

- It would be an own goal.
-Dropit!

Down on your knees.
Put the gun on the floor.

On your knees!

BRIGHT:
A plot to murder one of their own

for which their enemy
would be held culpable.

Hell of a coup if they'd pulled it off.

Is this what it's come to, Thursday,

gunmen roaming the streets,
political violence?

It's war.

Undeclared, perhaps.
But war all the same.

A one-off, surely?

Swift's crossed these people,
upset them in some particular.

I hope you're right, sir.

But it feels more like the start of something
than the end.

Pray God you're wrong, Thursday.

I pray God you're wrong.

Are you all right?

Would you be?

We grew up together.

Is that it? Are we safe?

Well, at least we know what the plan is now.

If they were to do it again,
then they'd have to own it.

And I don't think they have the stomach
for that.

Iwon't live in fear.

Hopefully, you won't have to.

But Special Branch
will keep a watching brief, just to be sure.

How's your man?

Oh, he's in with a chance, they tell me.

Well...

Er, good luck with the, erm...

the football cup.

(He laughs)

Thanks.

Morse...

Thank you.

Can we make it stick, do you think,
for Martinelli?

Well, we've motive and opportunity,
but the evidence is circumstantial at best.

Taken together with an attempted on Swift,
his girl and the Branch man,

it might carry some weight.

I can understand Martinelli.
That was jealousy.

Something personal.

But this?

Sectarianism.

Maybe we're as much what we hate
as what we love.

In the end, we all pick a team.

Or a team picks you.

Not if you're no good at sports.
I was always the last to be chosen.

The one neither side wanted in the team.

I chose you.

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