All language subtitles for Bad Sister - Fortsetzung von Clan - S01E01 (EN)

I'm sorry.

Oh, my God.

Oh, no.

Ugh! God, that's vile.

My lady, it's nearly time to go.

What's going on in there?

I think I'm gonna stay in the bath.

You and Ruben go. Make a day of it.

He was your brother-in-law, Bibi.

She's your sister.

She needs you.

She doesn't.

Not anymore.

- Michael, no.
- No.

Ursula, you in there?

Michael won't take off his GAA jersey!

- I don't want to.
- Okay, coming.

Urs!
Molly, we're leaving now, all right?

Ah.
At least you've got your smart shoes on.

Hey. Oh.

Oh, monkey.

What's up?

Mum won't stop crying.

Well, that's, you know, that's to be…

But how are you?

I don't know.

I keep forgetting he's dead. Is that bad?

No. No.
That used to happen to me all the time.

I'm going to tell my friends
he died in his sleep.

Okay.

All right. Well, that's a nice idea.

No one RSVP's to a funeral.

How are you supposed to know
how much food to make?

I couldn't bear the thought
of him being all alone.

Yeah. No, of course.

Took a bit of getting used to.

But it's been nice having him here.

Hasn't it, Blanaid?

He looks like he's wearing makeup.

Well, he is wearing makeup.

Maybe turn the heating down a bit,
you know. Just in case.

Why have you got, um...
I mean, w-why have you p...

Oh.

Did you see him?

Mm-hmm.

She has him dressed in pajamas.

Pajamas? Why?

She wants to make eternal damnation
all comfy for him.

He had a hard-on.

Last two fingers up to Grace.

The dead prick.

Postmortem priapism isn't uncommon
after a violent death.

Thank you, nurse. That will be all.

Where the hell's Becka?

Oh, my God.

Oh, Jesus.

Sorry, I think that was my fault.

- You... What are you doing?
- Sorry.

You walked right out in front of me.

What, did you wanna get hit?

No. No, I was just... I... I'm... I'm...

- I'm late for a...
- God. Oh, my leg is banjaxed.

These are yours.

Oh, shite.

Was it cracked before, or…

- Sorry.
- Are you kidding?

I don't know where my head was.

Okay, there's another.

Is this your sandwich?

Yeah.

I think there's some gravel in it.

What? Oh, no.

Mind yourself.

What?

Shit!

Oh, shit.

Shit.

We offer our prayers today
for John Paul Williams

and his adored wife, Grace,
and daughter, Blanaid.

- Along with his sisters-in-law…
- Hey.

…Eva, Ursula, Bibi and Becka Garvey.

- Lord, hear us.
- Becka. Come on.

- Lord, graciously hear us.
- Sorry. Sorry.

We remember
our brothers and sisters in Christ

who are no longer with us today,

especially Grace Williams' parents,
Bill and Kathleen Garvey.

Decent crowd.

- Lord, hear us.
- They're here for Grace.

Lord, graciously hear us.

Yeah, well,
I didn't think they were here for Elvis.

Let us take a moment now
in silent prayer

for our own private intentions.

Oh, Jesus.

All right.

Ah!

Here at Today show,
good to have you with us as always.

You didn't microwave this, did you?

No. No, I just... Y-Yeah, we did.

- You're an animal.
- Sorry. In a rush, but yeah.

Need anything else?
You'll be all right for a couple of hours?

Thirty days lying on my pregnant arse.

I don't think another couple of hours
will kill me.

Why you working on a Saturday anyway?

Ah, it's just, you know,
a new claim with a few issues.

What's the matter?

You look awful. You're pale and sweaty.

Well, you know, you're really fat.

Don't have a heart attack.

Please. If anything happens to you,
remember I can't even shit without you.

That's nasty talk.

I know.

And don't worry.

Not about anything, okay?

And don't move. Definitely don't move.

- You'll cause damage to the house.
- Aw. Hmm.

I miss being pretty.

- Ah, you're still pretty.
- Mmm.

You're like a very pretty beach ball.

That's Matt.

I know, but I need him on this.
He's family. Sometimes.

He doesn't know what he's doing,
and he's a lazy bastard.

Theresa, I'm gonna pull rank here.

Shut up.

Have you read this one?

Just twice.

Well, get stuck back in there. No.

Bring me back a surprise.

Okay. Like what?

A puppy.

Or chips.

Chips?

Fuck.

You look like you slept in a kennel.

Did you sleep in a kennel?

Last night? No.

Tom. Tom.

What did... Wait, you can't go like that.

Go where?

She's not an Alsatian, Tom.

She can't hear through two floors
of insulation and carpet.

Well, you're wrong there.

You need a smart jacket.

- What do I need a smart jacket for?
- The new insurance claim.

- We need to look into it.
- What new claim?

What new claim?

Jesus. That's enough to retire on.

Yeah.

Well, we've got to make sure
that doesn't happen.

Let's go.

Wait.

John Paul was
an active member of the church,

a devoted family man,
and amateur humorist.

God gave John Paul the strength
to be an unforgettable human being.

And let us give thanks
for the joy he spread his whole life long.

Now, chosen by Grace,
John Paul's favorite hymn.

You don't have to pretend anymore.

- That is hot. Hot.
- King of Christmas has arrived.

I made brussels sprouts.
They're overcooked, just as you like.

These are for you.

- All right, my favorite.
- Very, very, very deliberate.

They've been... They've been better.

- Anyone for anything else?
- We're fine.

- We have loads.
- You got enough ham? Okay.

Look at them, Donal.

There's women's lib for you.
Heads of the table. Both ends.

Plenty of room
and us men hemmed in like tinned fish.

Uh, no offense, Nora.

- You don't have enough space, John Paul?
- I don't know how you do it.

You've got a big house, and still
you manage to make us feel crammed.

I've got no room for my elbows.

Well, that is a terrible, awful,
terrible shame.

Are we starting without Becka?

We were just talking about
why Eva needs a house this size.

- I mean, why wouldn't a spinster…
- "A spinster"? A spinster, everybody.

You could sell this place and give
your sisters their rightful share.

- We don't want to sell our parents' home.
- Yeah, Eva brought us up in this house.

It's all we've got left of them.
Why would we sell it?

He knows all that.

That sentimentality is just
very convenient for Eva is all I'm saying.

- We're here!
- Yay.

- Oh. Donal, quick wager on who she's with.
- Hola, chicas!

- Um, it was a junkie last Christmas.
- It was a student.

- I say "stranded Polish builder." Hmm?
- Come on, it's Father Christmas!

- No, no. You're all right, JP.
- Come on. It's for fun.

Hey! Happy Christmas!

- This is Frank, everyone.
- Hiya.

Frank, this is my family.

- Hiya.
- I wouldn't have guessed that.

- And John Paul.
- Frank.

- Frank. Hey.
- I'm only joking with you.

- Oh, are you now? Are you now?
- How are ya?

Nice to meet you.
Are you gonna eat or…

- Please, if you'll have me.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah.

- This is lovely, you all.
- "Frank."

- That's a very unusual name for a...
- Millennial.

It's an unusual name for a millennial, no?

- Is it?
- I think so. Yes.

- Hi, sweetheart.
- Mmm.

Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa. Go easy on those.
You'll end up the size of your cousin.

What? It-It's puppy fat.
It's completely normal.

- You all right?
- Mm-hmm.

You gonna come, um, with us
on the swim tomorrow?

Really?

- Yeah.
- Yeah. That's a nice idea.

- Shall we do that? You're old enough now.
- Yeah.

Do you go swimming every Christmas?

Yeah, yeah. We used to do it
with our parents when we were little,

so we kept it up as a tradition, you know.

Did Becka not tell you
that we're tragic orphans?

Come on.

- Have you not done it? You ever done it?
- No, no. Way too cold for me.

- I'll buy you a wet suit.
- It's not. It takes 30 seconds,

- and then it's, like, balmy.
- You get used to it.

Do what this one does. Put your pinky in.

- Itsy-bitsy. One toe at a time.
- …how dare you?

- Molly, over here!
- Stop. Stop.

Over here!

Do you need some privacy?

Well, I'm going to the toilet, JP,
so yeah.

Um, will you flush for me, please?

This is the last one.

- It's for you. It's from all of us.
- Is it a dog bed?

What?

Don't ever lower those standards,
Gracie.

Okay.

Who wrapped this?

It's a dry robe for after the swim.

Oh, like yours.

Yeah.

I love it.

I think there's still one more gift
under the Christmas tree.

Someone must have been very good
this year.

It's for you, my love.

Oh, but I didn't bring...
I thought we were doing ours tomorrow.

- Aw. Wow.
- Oh, wow.

Look at her face.

- Oh, I want to see. Let's see.
- Oh.

Mmm. Isn't it beautiful?

It is, yeah.

There you go.

Let me look at you.

Lucky old Mammy, yeah?

- Come here.
- Let's save that for home, shall we?

All right.

After all that excitement,
I have some news.

- Let's hear it.
- Whoo!

Whoo!

I just, uh, put an offer
on a studio in town,

and I'm gonna be opening
my own massage business in the new year.

- Hey! Hey!
- Go, becka!

Well, here's to, uh, launching a new
venture in a depression with no money.

We're delighted for you.
Anything you need, you just say.

Mam and Dad would be proud. Me too.

Oh, it's fantastic.
A massage, please.

- Okay.
- Well done, Becka!

- As we are all making announcements…
- Brilliant.

- …um, I've got some news too.
- Oh.

Are you pregnant?

The fuck kind of thing is that to say?

Go on, Eva, love.

Uh…

um, so, uh, Gerald, my boss...

And mine.

And John Paul's boss, of course.

Um, he's looking
for a new financial director,

and after a lot of thought,
I've put myself up for the promotion.

- Brilliant.
- Yeah.

You're amazing. It's official.

- Well done, honey.
- That's fantastic. Great.

- Nice one. You've earned it, love.
- God.

Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, wh... mind my head!

Can you control your child, please?

Control your temper, JP.

Oh, my...

Um, Mammy, I think it's time.
We're heading home.

- Oh.
- Um, get your stuff together.

Blanaid? Um, get your presents together.

I'll just...
Let's just... You know.

Don't worry about that.

- No, no. We should. I want to.
- Come on.

It's not even nine o'clock.

- I'm not telling you what to do, Grace.
- Well, you are.

Wait, no.
We just want you to say what you want.

The odd time to stand up
for yourself, you know.

It's Christmas Eve.
We barely get to see you anymore.

What kind of a prick asks someone
who can't have kids if she's pregnant?

It was a joke.

- Oh, my God.
- It was a fucking joke?

- It came out wrong...
- When are you gonna wake up?

When are you gonna stop?

I'm sorry. I'm so...

I'm really sorry.

- Mammy, come on. Let's go.
- Um, coming!

Look, I... I know he isn't easy and…

and I know
you don't think he's a good man,

but he's a good husband,
he's a good father and he makes me happy.

Can you not just let me be happy?

I will see you tomorrow
at the Forty Foot for the swim.

Yeah. Okay.

And it'll be nice, right?

See you there.

Loony.

Fantastic. Great.

I swear to God
if he calls her "Mammy" one more time…

Where's my coat, Mammy?

- Please, John.
- …next Christmas.

- Happy Christmas!
- Happy Christmas.

Is your daddy home? Where else
would he be on Christmas Day, says you.

- Happy Christmas, Roger.
- Happy Christmas, Grace.

You look gorgeous.

- Happy Christmas to...
- Happy Christmas.

Box of oysters for a starter.

If you're having a starter
or if you're already set for a starter,

it'll make a lovely amuse-bouche.

That's really thoughtful of you, Roger.

It is, it is...
Um, how long have they been sitting out?

Oh, no time.

Um, see, the sister was set to join me
for lunch, and she loves an oyster,

but she had a nasty fall
coming back from the pub.

So that's off the cards,
and I don't eat them myself.

- Oh, no. So, are you on your own, or...
- No, let's not... no, no, no.

Um, very thoughtful. Happy Christmas.

- Are you taking the boat out...
- I'm not taking the boat out. Nope.

Okay. Happy Christmas.

Ah!

Fuck.

- Mammy!
- Yeah?

Not you.

Blanaid, where's your mum?

She's upstairs, changing for the swim.

So, um, just a tiny bit
of vinegar and shallot on there.

No Tabasco this year, Mammy.
I won't make that mistake again.

- Here it goes.
- Oh.

- Mmm.
- Mmm. Good?

Lovely.

Happy Christmas, Mammy.

Happy Christmas, love.

- Mmm.
- Mmm.

- Have you blankets?
- Whoa. Whoa.

Uh, yeah. Becks,
would you mind getting them, please?

Put your cream on.

- Yeah.
- And, um, grab the hot water bottles too.

Yeah. Would you stop ordering me around?
I'm not your wife.

Right.
Uh, do you think one flask is enough?

No, I don't.

Come here. Well done.

Take the bread out at a quarter past.
It'll need to sit for an hour anyway.

It'll be perfect by the time we get home.

- Come on, Blanaid.
- What are you doing?

We're going to the Forty Foot.
We'll be back as quick as we can.

You had a glass of champagne.
You can't drive.

- I'm grand, really.
- No, no, no.

You can't drive. You had a large...
Are you kidding me?

- No. I'm perfectly...
- There'll be guards on every corner.

Come on, now. Think.

- Well, maybe you can drive us then?
- Of course I can't. I had a glass myself.

I've not missed a swim since I was little.
I'll be perfectly fine.

Oh.

Now, why would you go and make a scene
on Christmas Day, hmm?

I'm not having Blanaid in a rough sea
with her mother drunk.

Absolutely not.

So, so sorry, sweetheart.

I just worry too much.

Would you?

"Sorry. We're not gonna make it. My fault.
Too much to drink. Have fun. Kiss, kiss."

What the fuck?

- The prick.
- Yeah. No way. That is not happening.

Looks like it is happening.

Come on, Becka!

Becka!

Don't do that, fuck's sake.

Hey, come on. I'll race you back.

Bibi!

Hey, Long John Silver!
How are ya?

See anything you like?

Don't.

It's your fault. They've never seen
a single woman over 40 before.

It's not that. They've just never seen
nipples as gigantic as yours.

Like? You're such a pervert.

Ow! My arse.

Well, that's it then.

Just the four of us now.

- Break Mum and Dad's hearts.
- Good job they're dust.

Why would you say that?
It's just one Christmas.

It's not just one Christmas.

We're losing her.

She's not like the girl she was.
She's getting quieter and smaller.

You can't grow in the shadow of the prick.

- She was always quiet.
- That's bollocks.

What's bollocks about it?

It's just not true, Becka.

She wasn't always like that.
He's sucking the life out of her.

She doesn't stand up to him though.

You say anything to her,
and she thinks that you're jealous.

She doesn't thin... She knows…

She knows that's not why we're…
It's just him getting to her.

Well, we'll just have to wait
till he dies of cancer or something.

Yeah, the best part of her life
will be over by then.

I don't know. He's got gout.
And that ulcer.

Lucky wind, he could fuck off
in the next ten.

Could happen before then.

People get killed every day.

What's that mean?

I mean,
why not give nature a helping hand?

All our worries would be over.

I often think about punching through
that soft spot in his head

- right through to his brain.
- Jesus, Bibi.

I'd feed him to the Hurleys' pigs.

Bury him piece by piece
in their mushroom beds.

More shit for them to grow out of.

Fine! I'd tamper with the brakes
of his shitty Volvo

- if I knew what the fuck I was doing.
- Yeah!

Yes, finally.

Shove him into deep, dark water.

Feed him to the sharks.

Let the seagulls feed off his eyes.

- I'd gouge his eyes out…
- You shove him out of a plane.

- Kill the prick.
- Kill the prick!

I fucking hate him!

"Holy mother of God,
pray for us sinners now,

and at the hour of our death.

Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou amongst women

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus.

Holy Mary, mother of God,

pray for us sinners now,
and at the hour of our death.

Glory to the Father,
and to the Son,

and to the Holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning,

is now, and ever shall be,
world without end."

And so, as we commit
John Paul Williams to the earth,

in the name of the Father and
of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Amen.

Everything bad that could have happened
has happened.

Oh!

- Yeah. I've got it.
- Except that.

Goodbye, my love.

"Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down
in green pastures,

he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul.

He leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness for his name's sake.

Though I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil.

For thou art with me, thy rod
and thy staff they comfort me.

…preparest a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies.

Thou anointest my head with oil…"

It's over.

"Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me all the days of my life,

and I will dwell
in the house of the Lord forever."

Why did I have to wear
a smart jacket anyway?

We're going to Williams' funeral.

What? No way, yeah?
You can drive me to the pub, but I'm not...

Listen, that family
have claimed four times in the last year.

One year.

Something isn't adding up. We're not
paying out if it's not above board.

But what are we gonna do about it?

I mean, they're not claiming
for a cracked windscreen.

He... He's fucking dead.

It's only void for suicide
or what you call it? Malicious intent.

Right. Then we find malicious intent.

Under what circumstances?

- What are you doing?
- I'm grabbing the folder.

Do you want someone
who isn't driving to grab it for you?

- Yes.
- Yeah.

Yeah, go to the police report.

So the police are investigating it?

Well, no. Look, nothing suspicious
was found but look at the photo.

Jesus.

Strange way to meet your end, no?

The family will have
their guard down today.

All we need to do is observe and listen.

Who knows if there's foul play here,
but if there is,

the culprit usually shows up
at the funeral.

All right, Columbo.

Sorry for your loss.

Thank you. It is such a loss.

I'm just glad the suffering's over.

Oh, was he ill?

No.

I have to…

Well… Oh.

Deepest condolences.

Thanks.

Shocking. It's a grisly way to go.

Gerald Fisher. Your daddy's boss.

Ex-boss.

Anything I can do, please.

I'm only a phone call away.

Ooh. I don't have your number.

Are you joking me? There's no booze?

If you're not serving booze at an afters,
why have an afters?

To honor John Paul's sobriety.

Public pioneer. Private pisshead.

It's no wonder Father Doyle skipped out.

- That's my scarf, Becka.
- I know.

Where you going?

To get a proper drink.

You okay? Becka?

I want that scarf back, Becka.

What? She always keeps my shit.

Hang on a second.
This is their house.

Yeah. Well, her house now.

Pretty nice.

On an accountant's salary too.

This doesn't feel right.

It's just 'cause your body's
so weird and long.

I mean going into someone's private home
doesn't feel right, you berk.

- I didn't sign up for this.
- Look.

We're gonna drop in, pay our respects,
sound out the widow,

and then you can go back to practicing
chords or paint your toenails

or whatever you do in your hovel...
Hold the door.

Come on.

Sorry for your troubles.

Well, um, I came to say goodbye.

Oh, are you going already?

Yeah, I wa...
But I wanted to say goodbye properly.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Grace.

Which one do you think is the widow?

- Hard to tell.
- We shouldn't be here.

That's her.

So sorry for your troubles, Mrs. Williams.

Thomas Claffin, Claffin and Sons.
This is Matthew Claffin.

We're the holders
of John Paul's life insurance policy.

Mrs. Williams is my sister.

My apologies.

The likeness.

I hope you're not here to talk business.
She's been through a lot.

What?

Someone died.
Seriously, have some respect.

Do you think Dad would have
gate-crashed a funeral?

He wouldn't let his business go bust.

- He wouldn't have done this.
- How would you know?

Matt, sorry. Matt. Matt.

Condolences.

Thomas Claffin.

Are you related to the deceased?

Yeah. Yeah. He was our brother-in-law.

Ah, yes. One could see the similarities.

I'm, uh, I'm... I'm sorry for your loss.

Yeah. We're really gonna miss that prick.

If you wouldn't mind just, um,
leaving us with our grief. Thank you.

Of course.

Excuse me.

- Ow.
- Can you just engage your brain

a second before you speak?

Why? He's... He's not the police.
He's just an insurance twat.

Yeah, but what's he doing here?

She's in the back, changing the barrel.

And hopefully her attitude,
the rude bitch.

You?

Yeah, it's me all right.
How do I know you?

Have we, um…

I mean, have we ever…

So you nearly kill a man in the morning
but it's just foggy to you by lunch?

Oh, shit.

Sandwich boy.

Oh, God. I'm sorry.

How was your sandwich?

Seriously, how's your leg?

It's mainly my lower back.

Oh, well, if you're laying the groundwork
for a court case, good luck.

Juries love me.

Nice tight jacket.

Oh, it... it's my brother's. It's, um…

It's not actually mine.
I'll just keep it on.

- Can I buy you a drink?
- No, no. You're okay.

- I can buy my own, thanks. Thanks.
- Okay.

Well, then can you get me one? I'm skint.

What are you drinking?

Gin and tonic, please. Double and slim.

Save you washing up.

Becka.

Matt.

My condolences, Mrs. Williams.

Thomas Claffin, Claffin and Sons.

We're handling John Paul's
life insurance policy.

Insurance?

I haven't even looked
at the policy documents yet.

Well, of course. Of course. No.
Thankfully, I'm just here to help.

May I?

Ooh, egg and onion?
It's like you knew I was coming.

Did you?

You've had some awful luck recently.

And now this.

It's just the icing on a...
On an awful, horrible cake.

It must have been such a shock,
John Paul's accident.

Well, of course it was.

From any I had with him,
he never came across as a reckless man.

- I'm sorry, is there a problem?
- No, no, no. No.

Not really.

Well, just a couple of questions.

Before we pay out,
we need to go over a few details with you.

Details?

Can I pop by tomorrow?
Would that be convenient?

- Uh…
- Day after? You say.

- Yes, but I... I... I'd need to...
- You've got a lot on your mind. Apologies.

I'll give you a call. How about that?
We'll keep it casual.

Oh, actually,
one quick question, Mrs. Williams,

if you don't mind while I'm here.

Where were you
the night your husband died?

I know where John Paul was,
but where were you?

I was with my sisters.

Ah, right. Of course.

Think I just met all of them.
Lively bunch.

Well, let me get out of your hair.

This is purely a courtesy visit
to a valued client at a difficult time,

which I have taken up enough of, I'm sure.
I'm just going to, uh…

You know, it's a long ride home.

Have you a paper plate?

Don't worry.

Napkin.

You don't live around here though.

Pretty sure I'd have spotted you.

Well, I was in London.

Ah, the Big Smoke.

Yeah. Got back about a year ago.

Shit, it was a year ago.

Yeah. Time flies.

What do you do for yourself?

Well, I work with my brother.

My half-brother.
Um, for the last... Well, since I got back.

Uh, but, uh,
it's not my end goal sort of thing.

I, uh, play bass.

- Oh.
- Bass guitar.

God.

I had a band in London,
that's why I was there. But we broke up.

Exile in Babylon.

Exile in what?

Exile in Babylon.

What? What are you laughing at?

Nothing. I'm just...

I'm just picturing
all the black-and-white moody photographs

in front of Notting Hill bong shops, like…

So, why'd your band break up?

Apart from the terrible name?

Brexit.

For what it's worth, bassists
are my favorite of all the rhythm section.

Although I have dated more drummers,
in fairness.

But that's just bad luck.

But I'm always lucky in my bad luck.

Is that right?

No.

Not really.

Not anymore anyway.

What is it you do yourself?

I'm a massage therapist.

- I have my own business.
- It's just… It's just small, but…

I have to go.

Um, but listen.

Why don't I give you a freebie?

Make up for nearly killing you?

- No, you're fine. Honestly.
- Oh, no. Come on. I... I... I'm good.

I'm actually really good at what I do.

Come here.

You should get this fixed.

There you go.

Now we're connected.

Can I get the, uh, same again, please?

- You smell like a pub toilet.
- Do I? Thought it was a kennel.

Well, it's both now,
so congratulations.

- What's your problem? Oh, grow up.
- That was mortifying earlier.

No, no, don't talk to me like that.

- What are you looking for?
- My pills.

What pills? Why are you taking pills for?

- You have no idea how bad things are.
- Well, then tell me!

- I can't swallow, and it's...
- Would you just...

Would you just pull over.
Pull over, for Christ's sake.

I think you need to take some time off.

We're this close to bankruptcy.

What? How? Dad never had any...

Dad's accounting
wasn't one of his greatest talents, okay?

If we have to pay out on this,
the business is finished.

I'm telling you that right now.
We lose everything.

My wife's bedridden.

My first kid is weeks away.

If she even gets that far.
I can't lose the business too.

- I just can't lose the business.
- Hold on a minute. Hey.

Hey, that's not gonna happen.

Right? 'Cause we won't let that happen.

Look, if you think there's something
there to find, well, then we'll find it.

Okay.

Okay.

Thanks.

Jesus Christ!

- Sorry. Sorry.
- Grace!

Oh, my God. I live on my own.

People don't walk into my house uninvited

unless they're planning
to do something bad to me.

I'm sorry. I should have knocked.

Meals for one.
That's what's ahead of me too now.

It's more fun than it looks.

It's not.

I did a stupid thing.

What?

That insurance detective
was asking me a load of questions earlier.

He's not... He's...
He's not a detective, Grace.

He's the insurance dick.
He's just a creep.

He... He asked me where I was
the night John Paul died.

I said I was with you.

I said I was with my sisters.

Why would...

Uh, I'm... I'm just gonna turn the, uh…

I don't know why I did it.

I just panicked, I think. I... He...

He made me feel really uncomfortable
and I just got worried.

Does it mean I'm a suspect?
Am I a suspect?

What do you mean?
What do you mean a suspect?

It was... It was an accident. There...
I mean, there's no... there's no inquiry.

- What do you mean?
- But I was on my own.

There's nobody to confirm.
I was waiting for John Paul to come home.

Grace! They're... They're insurance men
who don't want to pay out.

That's all it is. I mean, come on.

Okay.

But what if it jeopardizes the claim?
I mean, I can't afford to...

We'll back you up.

We'll just say we were with you, you know.
It's not far from the truth, is it?

We were planning to hang out
that day anyway. It's fine.

It will be fine. Don't worry.

- Oh, God, my mouth is so dry.
- No. Just... Sorry.

Just... It's... It's just prosecco.

With a bit of vodka.
I'm stopping tomorrow.

Hey.

We've got a problem.

Yeah. Can you come round?

Jesus.

He's dead. He's in the ground.
He's Satan's problem now.

She said she was with us?

Yeah, she's just shone a light
on everything we did.

So, it's our problem now.

The prick is dead, and we've got
our sister back. That's all that matters.

We can't let them
bring the police into this.

The police? I've got three kids.
I can't go to prison.

Just calm down.

No one's going to prison.

Oh, my God.
You look so much like Mam right now.

Fuck's sake, Bibi.
We just all need to be on the same page.

And we keep Grace out of this.

She can't find out what we did.

We just stay calm,
and we look out for each other.

- Give me your hands.
- No. I'm not doing it.

- Come on!
- Fuck's sake.

We just look out for each other
like we always have.

Right?

Always.

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