All language subtitles for George Gently S04E01 Gently Upside Down.DVDRip.NonHI.en.BBC

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- Have you heard The
Beatles' new record?

- It isn't good.
- No.

- No running.
- Sorry, Miss.

- The question posed by
many Shakespearean critics,

including F.R.
Leavis, T.S. Eliot,

and others too grand to
use their own first names is,

are Antony and Cleopatra
true tragic heroes,

or are they too fault-ridden
and laughable to be tragic?

Is their relationship
one of love or lust?

Does Cleopatra kill
herself out of love for Antony

or because the world has
changed and she's lost all power?

Essays in on Monday, please.

All: Yes, sir.

- You hear me, Hazel, Shelley?

Both: Yes, sir!

♪♪

- Heard from Mary?
- Total silence.

Where do you think she's gone?

- Gretna Green.

- Serious? Did he propose?

- Well, so she said.

"With a passion that
burned the air between us."

- Blimey. Imagine that.

- "And so saying,

"his erstwhile timid lips grew
bold and poesied with hers

in dewy rhyme."

What's that mean?

- It's John Keats talk
for "he snogged her."

She wouldn't tell me his name.

Right.

Out of 10.
- 10.

Me?

- 11.

- Joining the orchestra, girls?

I'm on the lookout for
young ladies like you.

You just would, wouldn't you?

♪♪

- Anyone smell gas?

- Sir.

- Out tonight, John?

- I might be.

- Didn't really want
to know, did you, sir?

- No, no. Just
being polite, actually.

- All right, then, if you
really want to know...

- No, no, none of my business.

- Fine.
- Ah, gotcha.

- All right, well, you've
beaten it out of us.

I, John Bacchus, me...

Am on a promise.

- Who is he?
- Ha, ha.

♪♪

- She looks a mess.

Oh, hang on. Hang on.

- Hurry up.

- I'm hurrying.

Does your dad know where we go?

- No. He just knows we're out.

Me sister covers for us.

- On air. Camera one. Two next.

- Welcome to the
show. It's Friday night.

Put your work in the drawer
called "forget about it,"

get your glad rags on, and
turn the world Upside Down!

- Go to camera three
on The Walking Dead.

And I don't mean Tone.

- I'm Tony "Tone" Hexton,

and have I got a
fabulous show...

- Camera two.

One next.

- It's a crime to use the
word "fabulous" for it!

- Camera one. Three next.
- Isn't that right, sweetheart?

- I don't know what
you're talking about.

She agrees with me.

She just hasn't
thought about it yet.

Let's kick off.

Playing Suzanne,

the group that's been
taking the chart by storm.

Please welcome The Walking Dead!

- Go.

Start low.

I want to see legs, please.

And if possible...

Whoo!

- ♪ Well, she
likes to talk dirty ♪

♪ But I keep her
running nice and clean ♪

- ♪ Talks dirty and
says what she means ♪

- ♪ I love the way she looks ♪

♪ And she knows that
all my friends agree ♪

- ♪ The way she looks,
all my friends agree ♪

- ♪ Hey, there, Suzanne ♪

♪ You really got ahold of me ♪

♪♪

♪ Suzanne ♪
- ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪
- ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪
- ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪
- ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪
- ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Picking up the pieces
of my broken heart ♪

- Ah, the smell of sex.

- Fancy a walk?

- She's such a
tart. It's shocking.

- I totally agree.

Blind dates, eh?

- Ah, just keep
your distance, yeah?

What's your name, anyway?

- Barry.

- Camera one next.
- Oh, to be young.

Oh, to be cool.

Oh, my lumbago.

- Oh, to be witty.

- It's chat-up time, Tone.
- Two next.

- And now I'd like to
do something which is

a little bit unusual for me,
and that is chat up some ladies.

Hi. So what's your
name, young lady?

- Shelley Macefield.

- Enjoying tonight's
show, Shelley?

- For crying out loud, not her.

- Well, come out of your
shell, Shelley, and tell us

what's cool about
being young today.

- Music, isn't it?
- Ah, but is it, Shelley?

- Disaster.

- Three next.

- What about boys?
Got a boyfriend?

- Me? No.

- Hard to get, eh?

So what kind of guy
lights your fire, Shelley?

- Well, not one that
looks like me dad.

- Yeah, it's not funny.

Old blokes, you think
it's all about sex for us,

but it isn't.

- Well, they all say that
at first, ladies and gents.

- That's just what you'd
like the world to be about.

Now, what's...
- Mm, hello, hello.

- What's fantastic
about now is the fashion.

It's seeing what's coming out
of Manchester and Liverpool

and London and New York
and being able to go and buy it.

It's how you feel when you
wear clothes that you love.

It's like a feeling of power.
I put on a new dress...

- I like this one.

I'd like her after
the show, please.

- Born to walk down the street.

Any street, any town, anywhere.

I feel like I was born to be me.

- Born to be me.
What's her name, Tone?

- Mm. Get off us, will you?

- Well, you want to
see us again or not?

- Not.

Eugh, what's that smell?

- You all right?

- Oh, God.

Oh, God!

- Give her the mic.

Give her the mic!

- I just had a little idea.
- Hello, everybody.

All: Hello, Hazel!

Are you ready? All: Yes!

- Are you ready up there?

- Are we?

- Because we want to dance.

- I can't believe
you just did that!

♪♪

- So it's settled. Back
first thing in the morning.

- Over here, Sarge.

- Sir.
- What are you doing here?

- I just—I was at a loose end.

I thought I'd come over and...

- What happened to the promise?

- You know, she...
- I see.

- I'm getting old.

- Over here.

- Is this the missing girl?

- Yeah. Mary Claverton.

- How do we know?

- She still got her
school uniform on, John.

It's not nice.

Something's been feeding on her.

- Ugh!

- She's been laid out in
the earth very carefully.

- Be 17, wouldn't she?

- Yeah, last year at school.

Whole life in front of her.

- We're getting more
and more of these, guv.

More and more sick
blokes carrying out

their disgusting
sick little fantasies.

You know what?

We should never have given
up on capital punishment.

- Our job to tell the parents.

- And that bloke Tony.
I couldn't believe it.

When we were in the pub,
he's got his hand on my leg,

and he goes to me,

"Do you want my
phone number, Shell?"

- How gruesome! Yuck!

- I was like, "Nah,
Tone, you're all right."

Can you imagine
doing it with him?

- Yuck!

- Oh.

Night, Mr. Holdaway.

Night, Haze.

- Shelley?

- Yes, Mr. Holdaway?

- What do you think
your dad's going to say

when somebody tells him you
were on live television tonight

with some dirty old man
sticking a camera up your skirt?

- He won't say
nothing, Mr. Holdaway.

He's never said
anything in years.

He just sits there.

- Did you see me, Dad?

- I saw more of you
than I was expecting.

- You're not happy, then?

- Hazel.

We'll talk in the morning.

- Oh, hi. Hurry, hurry.

- Not in?

Is that her there?

- That's her there.

- Mrs. Claverton?

Have you found her?

- Mr. Claverton, I'm Detective
Chief Inspector Gently,

This is Detective
Sergeant Bacchus.

- Have you found her?
- Yes.

We found Mary's
body in Pinnock Woods.

I'm very sorry, Mr. Claverton.

How did—how did she die?

- We don't know yet.

- Well, was there
any— Had anybody...

- We don't know.

We're waiting for
the postmortem.

- When was the last time that
you saw Mary, Mrs. Claverton?

- The last time...
- When she went out that night.

She was going to meet
her mates at the bus stop,

and they were going to
go dancing in Newcastle.

She didn't arrive
at the bus stop,

and they went without her.

- What time did she
leave the house?

- About...

- Quarter past 6:00
for the half 6:00 bus.

Told her to be back by 11:00.

The last we saw of her,
the last time I saw my bairn.

- You told the police at
the time she went missing

that she had a
boyfriend on the quiet,

and that's where she'd gone.

- Was it him?

- What can you
tell me about him?

Was he at school?

- She never told us
anything, not me, anyway.

- Not even a name.

She lived in a
different world to us.

We weren't a part of it.

Well, I...

I thought she was with this
lad, you know, somewhere.

- She'd only packed
a couple of things.

We thought she'd just run
off for the weekend, but...

After a week...

- Can we have a
look in her room?

Thank you.

Guv. Guv.

What they talking
about, "different world"?

I mean, how could they
know absolutely nothing

about a boyfriend important
enough to run away with?

And how come the
investigation didn't find

a single thing about him?

- What, you think
there was no boyfriend?

- Who is he? Invisible Man?

What we looking for?

Hey, guv. Look, look.

Who are these, the
Beverley Sisters?

- They're writers, I think.

Mary was always writing.

Her school thought
the world of her,

had her going to university.

Girl from here,
going to university.

- You must have been very
proud of her, Mrs. Claverton.

- Well, I tried to be.

I didn't really understand
her poems or anything,

or the names of
the people in them.

- This different world,

is this the world that Mary was
in when she wrote her poems?

- I suppose so.

- And this boyfriend, did
he belong to that world,

do you think?

- Do you mean, was he made-up?

No, he was real.

- No, might he have
lived in that world as well?

- We may have lived
in different worlds,

but we were both women,

and I knew she had somebody,

somebody important.

- Me husband's crying.

I've never seen my husband cry.

- I am so sorry.

So what were the names
of her friends at school?

- Well, her best friend
was Hazel Holdaway.

She was always
round at her house.

She practically lived there.

- This Hazel Holdaway,
was she one of the friends

at the bus stop the
night she went missing?

- He's upset. Best
leave him to it.

- Is Joe often violent,
Mrs. Claverton?

- He'll go for a walk.

Then he'll go to the
pub when it opens.

♪♪

- Report says cause of
death was suffocation.

- The boyfriend, then?

He wanted her to
go away with him.

She refused. They had a fight.

It got out of hand.

- She packed a bag, John.

- All right, then.

Well, she agreed to go with him

for, like, a dirty
weekend or something,

and then she changed her mind.

He went mad.

- In her statement,
Mrs. Claverton said

that she always wore a little
gold necklace with an "M."

- Yeah, well, it's not
there. That's all there is.

- No.

A present from her
father on her 16th birthday.

Okay.

You ready for this, Sheila?

Hmm?

- Mrs. Holdaway?

I'm Detective Sergeant Bacchus.
This is Chief Inspector Gently.

- Is this about Mary Claverton?

- Could we speak to Hazel,
please, Mrs. Holdaway?

- Have you found her?

- Is Mary safe?
Have you found her?

- We need to talk to Hazel.

- I taught Mary literature.

As Deputy Head, I also run

the University Futures
Program at Blackworth.

- What's that?

- Preparing the more able
kids to get into good universities.

- Oh, right.

- Was Mary an able
student, Mr. Holdaway?

- Mary was exceptional.

- Mary and Hazel were
close. Were they best friends?

- Inseparable.

- So you'd known
Mary a long time?

- Since she was 12.

- And you thought
she was exceptional?

- You put up with the bored
and the not so bright because,

once in a while, a girl
like Mary comes along.

This is a world of
low expectations.

They don't expect their
daughters to achieve Oxford.

- Or their sons.

- Mr. Holdaway,
we are trying to trace

this elusive
boyfriend of Mary's.

Was she seeing any
of the lads at school?

- That's not part of the
girls' world I get involved in.

- Well, can you
think of any reason

why someone like Mary,

with the sort of future
that you saw for her,

would throw it all away by
running off with a boyfriend?

- 'Cause they're stupid.

- You thought she was stupid?

- No. No. Mary was very clever.

I just meant girls in general.

- Mr. Gently, Mary was
quick. She was confident.

She had it all.

That can breed impatience.

For a young woman like that,

sometimes the future
can't come quick enough.

- What did you think of
Mary, Mrs. Holdaway?

- Miss Holdaway.

I'm Hazel's sister.

- You're Hazel's sister?
- Yes.

- Oh, I thought— I thought...

- Sadly, I no
longer have a wife.

- Oh, right.

- Our mother and father
separated 15 years ago.

- Hazel going to
be long, is she?

- Anytime now.

- Sorry, Daddy. She's
at the TV studios.

- I see.

- This is wonderful, Shell.

It's like Mary Quant,

but it's a little bit more
dreamy with it, isn't it?

It's like it's saying,

"I've looked at Mary Quant,
but do you know what?

I'm going to do it me own way."

I mean, just look at the fabric.

Where did you get it, Shell?

- Ah. It's me gran's.

- She is kidding, right?
Somebody tell me she's kidding.

- Tell all, Shell.

I'm going to call
you Mary Quaint

from now on, by the way.

- Mary Quaint. Brilliant.

- Like listening to Oscar Wilde.

- I think it's fantastic.

Out of 10, everybody? All: 10!

- Now tell me about your hair.

I love it here.

I love this line
you've got, Shell.

You're great at it.

Cleopatra could not
have done it better herself.

- Who?

- Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt.

- Ah, the one that got
shagged off that Roman?

- Is my friend allowed
to say "shagged" on TV?

I kept thinking I was
going to hear from her.

Like she'd send us a
postcard or something.

Arrange to meet up but
then swear us to silence.

- Did she say anything
to you, Shelley?

- She was more
Hazel's friend than mine.

They were both brainy,

always talking
about poems and that

and that John Paul Belmondo.

- Who?

- He's a film star, but
he can only talk French.

- Oh, right.

- Girls, we really need to
know the name of this lad

that she was seeing.

Hazel?

- She'd drop you
clues now and then.

- He's like Mr. Rochester.

- Oh, wow. Fantastic.

All scarred, you mean?
- Aye.

He has got scars,
actually, Hazel.

Though I doubt you'd
be able to see them.

- Why? Where are
they, on his bum?

- And why would I not be
able to see them, Mary?

- They are inner scars.

Maybe Rochester's wrong.

Maybe he's more Dover
Beach or Porphyria's Lover.

I love Porphyria's Lover.

- Blimey, he's Greek now.

Greek and scarred.

That's the worst
combination I can think of.

- Have you had sex with him?

- "I laughed him
with his patience;

"and the next morn,
ere the ninth hour,

I drank him to his bed."

♪♪

- So who was she talking about?

Come on, Hazel,
this is important.

- She used to just
say things for effect.

- What effect?

Shelley, what effect?

- She was always trying
to make Hazel jealous.

Like, "I'm getting all
this nookie; you're not.

I'm a woman;
you're a little girl."

- Was there
anybody in particular

she was trying to
make you jealous of?

- It was rubbish. She's
just making things up.

- About who?

- Shelley, about who?

- Mr. Nugent.
- Who's he?

- The music teacher.

She knew Hazel
had a pash for him.

- I didn't.
- You bloomin' did.

We all did.

I've still got one.

- So she told you
there was something

between her and this teacher?

♪♪

- Okay, do that bit again.

With rubato, okay?

Feel it. Breathe.
- Yep.

♪♪

- Thanks, love.

- Whoever you are,
you obviously can't read.

Go somewhere else.

Yes?
- Mr. Nugent?

- Who was it?

- That's what we're
trying to find out.

- I meant, who told
you this stupid story?

- Does it matter?

- Yes, it does, as
a matter of fact.

To her memory, and,
quite frankly, to me.

It was him, wasn't
it? Her father.

Well, he's an idiot.

He totally over-reacted

over a completely
innocent situation.

- Which was what?

- Tell me his version first.

- No, you tell us your
version, if you wouldn't mind.

- All right.

I passed Mary walking home.

I offered her a lift.

We sat chatting for a
moment outside her house.

The next thing I know, I've
got her father screaming at me

to stay away from his daughter.

- And that was it, was
it? No more to it than that?

- Nothing.

- So why would Mary
Claverton tell her girlfriends

that there was something
going on between you?

- Am I a suspect here?

- Where were you on the
evening of Friday the 29th?

- I am.

You're serious.

- Where did you say you were?

- Home.

- Are you sure?

- My wife has a yoga
class on Friday nights.

I look after our two kids.

- How old are they?

- Three and five.

- Ah.

Not really going to swear
you an alibi, are they?

- No, so probably I
took them with me

while I went to Pinnock Woods
and murdered a schoolgirl

I was rather fond of.

Do you think?

- Stranger things have happened.

- Do you ever bother
to engage your brain

before you open
your mouth, Sergeant?

- Would you care to answer
my question now, Mr. Nugent?

- I have no idea why
Mary would tell anyone

there was anything between us.

No idea.

- We have no
sightings from the night

Mary Claverton disappeared.

We've got no witnesses.

All that we do know

is that she left her
home wearing a necklace

and carrying a bag, and
these are both missing.

Yeah? Right?

Cup of cocoa with your
bedtime reading, sir?

- It's Mary's poems.

They're not bad
for a 17-year-old.

- "Do you feel a stirring?
No. Why not, fair damsel?

"There's something
missing inside you.

And what might that be,
oh, wise and beautiful child?"

That's rubbish. It
doesn't even rhyme.

And a proper poet
wouldn't write it

on the back of a beer mat.

- Ever hear of Dylan Thomas?

- No. Who does he play for?

- There's two
different handwritings.

This isn't a poem.
It's a conversation.

- About what?

- No idea.

But I know what this
is. Have a look at that.

Written two weeks
ago. She's dated it.

- "His hands
weathered with time,

"that distance between
us, reach down and touch...

Touch my"...

That's illegal, that, isn't it?

- Yeah. What's that tell you?

- Older man.

- Fair bet.

And this...

is the father, presumably.

It's a poem called Joe.

"Black anger roars inside him."

Maybe Nugent was
onto something, eh?

"He leaves his anger inside me,

"streaming, streaming,
streaming inside me..."

- What? No.

Let's have a look.

- Whoa. Listen to this.

This is three weeks ago.

"The future pushing,
stomach taut,

my skin on the stretch."

- Full postmortem report
on Mary Claverton, sir.

Pathologist wanted you
to see it straightaway.

- She was pregnant.

- Two months.

Go and get Joe Claverton.

- Yeah. Yeah. I will.

What if he's inside the pit?
- Go in and get him.

- What are you staring at, you?

- Who, me?

- You accusing me
of something here?

- Why? Should we be?

- If you had learned that Mary
was about to run off with a man,

what would you have done?

- I'd have stopped her.
- How?

- By force, if I had to.

- Tell me about the
incident with Mr. Nugent.

That ponce.

Who told you about that?

- He did.

So?

- I look out the window. He's
got my daughter in his car.

What do you expect us to do?

- You can't think of any
innocent explanation for that?

- No, I can't.

- Mm.

Mary wrote about...

your "black anger"

roaring inside you.

- All right. All right.

Let's get down to
basics, shall we?

You...

didn't like Mary having sex
with her boyfriends, did you?

Why?

Did you want to keep
her all for yourself?

- I loved that girl.

- Yeah, well, we're not really
talking about love, are we, Joe?

We're talking about
something else.

Mary was pregnant.

- What do you mean?

- Was it yours?

- What happened, Joe?

- Where do you
think you're going?

- Dancing.

I'm late for the bus.
Me mates are waiting.

Just get out the way, will you?

- What's the matter now?

Let her go, will
you? She'll be late.

- I don't believe her.

Show us the bag.

- It's none of your business.
- Joe!

- Just get your hands off!

- Joe, don't be an idiot!

- Don't you dare
hit her, you moron.

Aye, a moron. Hear us?

You are a cretin.

- So what happened?

Did you catch up with her?

- Yeah.

I asked her to come back

and tell us exactly
what was going on.

And?

She told us she despised us.

She took the
necklace off I give her

and threw it in my
face, and off she went.

- And this is the necklace

that previously she
had worn all the time?

- Aye.

- So what does that tell you

about the way your daughter
was feeling about you?

- Where is this necklace?

- I shoved it in me pocket.

- You went back indoors?
- No.

- Where did you go?
Did you follow her?

- No.
- No, no, no, no. You did.

You followed her.

You stopped her
from meeting this lad

that she was seeing, eh?

And then things got out of
hand, and eventually, you know.

You buried her that night.

And you took that
necklace from her body,

and you kept it as a keepsake.

Where is it?

- I didn't have it
in the morning.

I must've lost it.
- Oh, right.

Mystery solved.

According to the report,

the bruise on her face
was recent when she died.

- Exactly. Exactly.

She was murdered
on that Friday night.

- Why are we not charging him?
- Not on this evidence.

No, we'll keep him
here for a while.

Mary left home in
time to catch that bus.

She just never turned
up at the bus stop.

She was going
somewhere else. But where?

That's the missing bit.

- Well, do you think
the girls have told us

everything that they know?

- I'm not sure about Hazel.

There's clearly an
edge to their friendship.

They weren't just
friends. They were rivals.

- Don't you think this is
a little unseemly, Hazel?

- A little what, Dad?
- Unseemly.

- You know, for someone
who loves words,

you do choose some funny ones.

Why don't you just
say what you mean?

- All right, then. Tasteless.

24 hours after your best
friend's body is discovered,

and off you go pursuing
your new career?

- Hazel. If I were
you, I'd just...

- You're not me, Margaret.

And it's not a new career, Dad.

It's just a chance to
do something different.

And Mary would've
done the exact same.

They're not asking me
next week or next month.

They're asking me tonight.

- So all I want you to
do is introduce Hazel.

- Just say, "Here's Hazel"?

That's all I'm required to do?

- That's the one, Tone.

She'll do the rest.

- Lovely.

- In your own time, then.

- Okay, standby. Right,
camera two in five.

- Four, three, two, one...

- Ladies and gentlemen,
boys and girls.

- Couldn't quite
manage it, could he?

- This is the part of the
show where I ask them

to slowly, slowly
turn down the lights.

Boys, take hold of your girls.

Get closer, because
it's smooching time.

And just remember...
- Lights.

- Uncle Tone will be
keeping a watchful eye

on your smooching styles.

- Oh, shut up, you fool.

- Two. One next.

♪♪

- ♪ All around the world ♪
- One. Two next.

- ♪ There are
hearts beating slow ♪

♪ Yours is one I won't let go ♪

♪ Inside the town ♪

♪ I hear the people sing ♪

♪ Sing their songs of love ♪

♪ And what love brings ♪

♪ Anywhere you are ♪

♪ Anywhere you
are, you know that ♪

♪ Your beating
heart is always mine ♪

all: ♪ Bring me my spear ♪

♪ O clouds, unfold ♪

♪ Bring me my chariot of fire ♪

♪ I will not cease ♪

♪ From mental fight ♪

♪ Nor shall my sword
sleep in my hand ♪

♪ Till we have built Jerusalem ♪

- ♪ In England's green
and pleasant land ♪

- Sit down.

♪♪

- There will of course
be a full service for Mary

at a later date.

But I thought that you,

that all of us who knew
Mary well and felt close to her,

should meet briefly
today to mark her passing

and to share our thoughts
and feelings with each other

and to sing her favorite hymn.

Mary Claverton lit up our lives.

And so we feel robbed.

David has asked if I would
sit in on this conversation

as a friend and a colleague.

I hope you have no objections.

- None at all.

- Right.

We are now certain
that Mary Claverton

was in a relationship
with an older man.

- Based on the ravings
of Joe Claverton.

- No, you've already admitted

that you had her in
your car at least once.

- I didn't "have her in my car."

- Where did you have her?

There are also
things that Mary wrote

which strongly
suggest the same thing.

- Such as what?

Am I mentioned?
- Poetry.

Poems about how she
felt for an older man.

- Is there a sonnet called
My Fling With David Nugent?

- You'd be in court
by now if there was.

- Perhaps I can shed some
light on this, Chief Inspector.

- Please do.

- I've read these poems.

Or if not these same
poems, then similar ones.

Mary often showed me her work.

- Have you read the
one about how she felt

when this man
touched her sexually?

- Yes, I think I did.
- Didn't that alarm you?

- No. And let me tell you why.

Mr. Gently, I'd be very
wary of drawing conclusions

about a student's private life

from the fiction
they wrote for me.

Mary was very mature
as a writer, it's true.

She explored a darkness,

the far edges of experience—
Imaginative experience, that is.

- It's all made-up, is it?

All this, all made-up, is it?

English literature,
made-up, is it?

Shakespeare? Is that made-up?

- Pretty much.
- No. No.

What's the one with
Marlon Brando in it?

The, um...

Yeah, you know...

Julius Caesar. Is that made-up?

Hmm? No, no, it's not.

It's a true story.
There's facts in that.

- Yes, but in another play,

he set a scene on
the coast of Bohemia.

- So?

- Bohemia's landlocked.

- Why does he do that?

- He wanted a child to be
abandoned on the shore

and its guardians to
be eaten by a bear.

- What? On a beach?
- Mm-hmm.

- Which one is this?

- Does it matter?
- Just tell us.

- The Winter's Tale.

- Right, well, I won't be
wasting me money watching that.

- Can we just get back
to the point, please?

So a poet, even a
young girl like Mary,

can make up facts
about their lives

which are not
necessarily the truths

about their lives, yes?

- Especially a
young girl like Mary.

A poem about a difficult
father, for example,

might well have been
influenced by her own home life,

or just as easily
by Sylvia Plath's.

And a poem about
an older man who,

far from resenting
her, holding her back,

loves her, makes
her feel special,

allows her to grow
into a woman...

Well, you can see
why a girl like Mary

might want to invent
such a figure, can't you?

- Well, yeah, I can see that.

- I don't think that Mary
made up this bloke at all.

- Literary critic now, are you?

- No, no, I'm a copper
who's looking at a girl

that you had in your car
who was then murdered

on a night that you don't
have a proper alibi for, okay?

I think we should go and
have a word with your wife,

don't you?

- Do we really have to?

- Yeah, yeah. We really do.

- Okay.

- Can I have a word, Mr. Gently?
- Yeah.

- No running.

- Sir.

- You think there's
nothing to this story

about Mary and
Nugent, don't you?

- I'm certain.

Look, we all know it happens.

News Of The World is
full of it every Sunday.

Silly young male
teacher runs off

with even sillier
17-year-old girl.

Frankly it's bound to happen.

Almost the better the
teacher, the more likely it is.

Both: Sir.

- They get close to us.

We become a focus for them.

Before you know it,
they fall in love with us.

- Sir.

- Yes. I'm afraid so.

It cost me my marriage,
and it was nothing.

Nothing.

She wrote me a sonnet.

I wrote her one back.

It was a literary device,
a conversation in verse.

- Conversation?

- There are lines,

and you don't cross them.

Both: Sir.

- And you definitely didn't
cross a line with this girl?

- No, definitely not.
It was all in her head.

- What happened to her?

- She changed schools,

went up to
Cambridge, got a first.

And then blow me if she
didn't throw it all away.

Married a Canadian
farmer at the age of 24.

- Can you remember her name?

- How can I forget after
an episode like that?

Juliet Twyler.

Of all the names in the
world, wouldn't you know it?

She had to be called Juliet.

- Huh.

Well.

Thank you very
much, Mr. Holdaway.

- Good-bye, Mr. Gently.
- Good-bye.

♪♪

- Yeah, not till last
week. You know, when...

Anna, please be
careful with that ball.

And then it's only
round the corner,

So I'm back by 25 to 9:00.

- That's all. Thanks, pet.

- Why are you asking?

♪♪

Kids, we're not going
to the shop anymore.

We're gonna go home.

- Hi-ya.

- What were you doing
in the back of the car?

- Asking us a few questions.

- 70 minutes?

- Yeah, 70 minutes.

I mean, he'd need a
helicopter, wouldn't he,

to get from his place,
meet Mary, murder Mary,

bury her body in Pinnock
Woods, and then get back in time.

So we forget Nugent,
which is a pity.

Joe Claverton, then.

Yeah, yeah.

No sign of any
necklace in the park.

What a surprise.

And his alibi was
shady, wasn't it?

He went out on a pub
crawl on his own, okay.

But so far, the
only thing we've got

is a barmaid telling us
that she saw him in his local

at half past 6:00

and then not again
until chucking-out time.

So where was he in between?

Burying his daughter.
- He hasn't got a car, has he?

Pinnock Woods is miles away.

- Well, maybe he's
got a mate with a car

and... you know?

- She was laid
out in that grave,

not just chucked into
a hole in the ground.

Her hands were
crossed over her chest.

She was laid out flat, tidy,

with love.

Could be Joe.

- Or the older man
she was seeing.

- I want to talk to Hazel
and Shelley again.

They haven't told
us all they know.

- Are we charging Joe?

- No. Let him go.

He's got a funeral to sort out.

- Hazel! Over here!

- Hazel Holdaway,

ladies and gentlemen,
is 17 years old,

a schoolgirl from Durham.

We first saw her in the
studio audience last week,

and for the rest of our run,
this fresh face of the North

will be co-presenting
Upside Down

alongside Tony "Tone" Hexton.

- Over here, Hazel, love.

- What'll you be doing
on the show, Hazel?

- I'll be doing
fashion and make-up

in the studio audience.

I'll be talking to the bands.

And Pip here—
Sorry; Mr. Hogge...

He wants me to lip-synch
along to some various hits,

which is a good thing, really,

because I cannot
hold a note for toffee.

- So what are you
going to be doing, Tone?

- I'll be standing next
to Hazel, looking pretty.

- Yeah, I'm not here to
interfere with Tony's job.

Although I might have
to have a word with him

about some of his jumpers.

- That's right, sweetheart.
Put the boot in, why don't you?

- No, no, sorry.
I—it was a joke.

- Course it was.
- Tony, maybe you...

- Shut up, you.

Ladies and gentlemen, children,

Upside Down is my creation.

I invented it.

The music, the
audience, the lip-synch,

the smooching time:

all my idea.

- Tone.
- I'm not finished yet, old boy.

A little story, very quickly,
about the world we now live in.

Wow.

This world, mm?

Used to belong to
professionals like me.

Radio, TV— You
name it; I can do it,

because I'm a
consummate professional.

All considered worthless
by Mr. Hogge here.

Nothing matters to him

except how old you are,
whether you look natural.

So I have made a decision.

The people from Come
Dancing want to meet,

and I'm off to the Smoke.

It's over and out
from Uncle Tone.

I resign.

Upside Down is all
yours now, sweetheart.

- Over here, Hazel.
- Hazel.

- I don't think I can to do it.

I don't like this world.

- This is the chance of
a lifetime, Hazel, literally.

Half the girls in England
would kill for a chance to do this.

- Ask one of them, then.

- Just think it over.

We'll talk again later.

- Ugh, no, not them two
again. We'll be here all night.

- You waited at the bus stop

where you were supposed
to meet Mary to go dancing.

- Yeah. I told you.

- That right, Shelley?
- Yeah.

- Okay, but Mary didn't turn up.

You waited for her,
but she didn't turn up.

And then the bus
came, and you got on it,

and you forgot all about Mary.

Shelley?

- Mary was always
missing the bus.

We just used to wait for
her and get the next one.

- Why didn't you wait for
her on that Friday night?

- Well...

Hazel said she
wouldn't be coming.

Is that all right, Haze?

- Yeah.

Don't worry, Shell.

- Hazel,

why wasn't she coming?

- She said she was
starting a new life,

that this night was
the start of a new life.

- A new life? What new life?

- I don't know.
- With this man?

- And was that it?
She said nothing else?

- No.

She just laughed at us.

- Why?

- She was always laughing at us,

always letting us know

that she was getting what
I wanted and couldn't have.

And there was no
need to be like that.

But she was.

It's how she needed to be.

She was just a
little girl, you know?

- Is there a little part
of you, just a little part,

that's glad that
she's out of the way?

- You are a really
nasty piece of work.

Do you know that?

- Or would you prefer
that she was around

so that you could gloat
over your new career?

- I haven't got a new career.

I turned it down.
- It's true.

£100 a week.
She's turned it down.

Hey, Haze, they'll have
to get Beer Mat Tony back!

- Beer Mat Tony?

- Yeah, Uncle Tone.
"Time to smooch."

- Why'd you calling
him Beer Mat Tony?

- Oh, 'cause when
we were in the pub,

he wrote his number
down on a beer mat for us.

- Did you keep it?

- No, I chucked it on
the floor on the way out.

- Did he meet Mary Claverton?

- Yeah.

They met here after the show.

He took her for a drink.

- And did he offer her
anything, by any chance?

- Expect so.

He offered me
something; I know that.

- Like what?

- A new life in London perhaps?

♪♪

- I don't think Uncle Tone's
going to turn up, do you?

- Would you?

He didn't turn up at
his hotel last night.

- We'll find him.

♪♪

- I'd like my husband
to read something.

They're words that he wrote
the day that our Mary was born.

Most of you here know that
Mary was good with writing,

as was her dad once.

So...

Please, Joe.

- "I touched your hand
for the first time today,

"and around my finger it curled.

"I hope one day
it will reach away

"and circle the entire world.

"I long to hear where
you're going to go,

"who you're going to see,

where you're going to roam."

- Have we had the pleasure?

- I'm Detective Chief
Inspector Gently.

This is Sergeant Bacchus.

- Yes! We have met, Sergeant!

I remember it now.

- When was that?
- The day music hall died.

My act was taken
in for questioning.

- Do you know this girl?

- I don't know.
Does she say I do?

No offers made under
the influence of drink

shall constitute a contract.

- She's not saying
anything. She's dead.

- Is she the girl
they— - Yep, that's her.

You knew her.
- Did I?

- Ah, yeah.

She was part of the
Upside Down crowd.

Remember? You chatted her up.

Took her out afterwards.

- I'm afraid that
doesn't narrow it down.

Look, I'd like to help, but...

- Oh.

Is this your handwriting?

- Well, some of it is.

- And the rest of it's hers.

- Oh, I...

Do you know, I didn't even
know I knew the poor girl.

That's terrible.

That's shocking, actually.

All right. What
can I do to help?

- You can start by trying to
remember when you met her.

- Let me see that photo again.

Yes.

Yes. I remember her.

Beautiful girl.

Full of confidence.

- You try to pull her?

- Of course I tried to pull her.

So I wrote, "Do
you feel a stirring?"

which is rather embarrassing.

To which she replied,
rather wittily, "No."

And I put, "And why
not, fair damsel?"

- Then she wrote,

"There is something
missing in you."

And then you wrote,
"And what might that be,

oh, wise and beautiful child?"

And then it all stops. Why?

- Where did you find that?
- She kept it.

- Sorry to disappoint
you, Uncle Tone,

but you are not my type.

The man that commands
my heart has poetry in his soul,

and you are just a
boring old fart in a jumper.

- Which you have to admit,

on all the available evidence,

is probably true.

- So who commands her heart?

Eh?

Who has poetry in his soul?

Hey, Joe Claverton read
a poem at the graveside.

- How's his alibi coming along?

- Still got a hole you
could drive a bus through.

- Go on a pub crawl.

Check them again.
See if anybody saw him.

- I've done it.
- Well, do it again.

♪♪

How long have you worked here?

- 20 years.

- Do you remember a
girl called Juliet Twyler?

She left the school
before her time

about 15 years ago.

- No. No, I can't
recall a Juliet.

There was a Jasmine Twyler.

Bonny little thing.

She left in a bit of a hurry.

- 15 years ago?

- That would be
about right, yes.

- Did she go to Cambridge?

- Jasmine Twyler
go to Cambridge?

She'd be lucky.

She left before the Easter
term in the lower sixth.

- Did she marry a
farmer and go to Canada?

- No.

- John, get in.

- Where are we going?

- Excuse me.

I'm looking for Jasmine Twyler.

- That's me.

Cambridge and Canada, eh?

Well, you never know
what your life might be.

Would that have been mine?

I wouldn't trade
that for what I've got.

Yous only know what you know.

- And he taught you English?

- He taught us all sorts.

He taught us life.

- Were you in love with him?

- I was 17, Sergeant.
How do I know what I was?

- What happened?

- Well...

He ran a sonnet
class on a lunchtime.

And I loved poetry.

I loved it. And...

He wrote a sonnet for the class.

Just to demonstrate
the rhyming scheme.

Actually, to show off.

And it was about me.

Can you imagine
how flattering that was?

So...

I wrote a crap sonnet back.

I pushed it under
his door, you know.

And then he writes
another one back.

A conversation, he called it.

And so on.

And then yous have
got to meet for a coffee

to discuss the feelings
expressed in the poetry,

blah, blah.

Look, I don't need to
draw yous a picture.

You know the rest.

- Wasn't there
anybody to help you?

- Mr. Gently,

it's always the girl's fault.

Maybe as that'll change.

But hell's bells,
it's a slow change.

It's still us to blame,
as far as I can tell.

- Need a hand
with the bins, Mum?

- No, no, you just go
and do your homework.

- Nice lad.

What did you call him?

- Naught out of
ten for originality.

Peter.

- Jasmine, I have to
ask you one last question.

Where did you go to make love?

Was it Pinnock
Woods, by any chance?

- Ah...

No.

It was usually in
the room at school.

- It's a bit risky,
that, isn't it?

- If I got noisy,

he used to put his
hand over me mouth.

♪♪

- Can you remember
why your mother left?

- Yes.

She couldn't cope with
the new bairn, I think.

Hazel was only two.

She was mentally unstable.

My mother was mentally unstable.

Poor Daddy.

- Where is she now?

- Who knows?

The snow melts,
and then where is it?

- Maybe they shielded
you from the real reason

that the relationship broke up.

Do you think?

- What real reason?

No, because I'd have known,

because even before she
left, I was doing everything.

I was bringing up our Hazel,

and I was washing and
cooking for Daddy and...

all she did was
just lie on the floor,

crying.

Stupid woman.

- Crying about what, Margaret?

- Who knows?

He'll be back in a
minute. You can ask him.

- Where is he?

- Who?

I think...

I think he said he was
going to put some chrysanths

on Mary Claverton's
grave or something like that.

Something—something stupid.

Anyway, I've done
lamb shanks, so...

- Is Hazel here?

- Hazel?
- Yeah.

- Oh, we don't see Hazel.

She'll be off with
her new fancy friends.

- Margaret, do you think that
Hazel ought to take this job

on Upside Down?

What does it matter what I think

about anything?

- Can you tell me
where your father was

on the night that
Mary went missing?

- He was here with me. Why?

- Did Mary come here?

- Why are you asking me
these stupid questions?

- Why?

Why did she come here?

- Full of airy ideas as usual.

To talk about poetry, I expect.

Honestly, these lamb shanks'll
be ruined, and I've put...

I've put rosemary
in them as well.

I wouldn't care.

- So Mary Claverton
met your father here

on the night that she
disappeared, yes?

- No. Daddy wasn't here.

- You just said he was.
- No.

- Do you know where he is now?

- He's gone to stop Hazel
from ruining her life, he said.

- Go and get him.

You're coming with me, Margaret.

- I have procured,
from the landlord,

his last remaining
bottle of champagne.

I'm not sure the
vintage is up to much.

- Why are we celebrating?

- We are celebrating, my lovely,

news that the Orwellian
institution that is ITV

loves our fresh face
of the North so much

that they are considering

taking our little regional
show nationwide.

- Now all we need
is our fresh face.

Now, then, give us a kiss
on those icy lips, my lovely.

And don't make it a Judas kiss.

- Get your hands off her.

- And you are?

- Dad, it's all right. Really.

- No, it's not all right.

You're coming home.

Now go outside
and get in the car.

- No, I don't want
to get in the car.

I want to stay here.

I've got things to talk about.

What, back at his place?

- No, Dad.

- What about half
an hour, Peter?

Shall we say half an hour?

- Who said you
could call me Peter?

- Just being friendly.
- We're not friends.

Come on, Hazel.

Everything's up for
discussion. Get in the car.

- No, Dad.

Everything is not
up for discussion.

Go and live your life.

I've got a
different life to live.

Pip.
- Yes?

- Do you still want me?

- Ooh, like wildfire.

- Well, then, it's a yes.

I was born to be me.

- Bastard, you can't take
my daughter away from me!

- All right, sort it out.

- Hazel. You're coming with me.

Come on.
- Hazel.

- Yes, Pip?

- Monday morning.
- Bright and early.

- Are you the man in
Mary's poems, Peter?

Like you were in
Jasmine Twyler's?

- Who?

- Jasmine Twyler. Your "Juliet."

- You fancied
yourself as her Romeo.

Tell us, Peter, did you have
fantasies about schoolgirls?

- Nothing happened between us.

It was all in her
head. I've told you.

- Except a 15-year-old
son called Peter.

- Mary Claverton came to
your house the night she died.

- No.

- Well, Margaret
says that she did.

- You've spoken to Margaret?

- Yeah.

- What else did she say?

- Ooh, lots, didn't she?

Lots and lots.

We want to hear it from you.

- She came to see me.

- And?

- She was pregnant.

- Like Jasmine Twyler.

I don't make a habit
of this, believe me.

- Just the two, then.

- These were special girls.

- Very.

- And you abused
your position of trust

by having sex with both of them.

- It was love.

Yeah, yeah, right.

- When you got Jasmine
Twyler pregnant, what happened?

- It was hushed up.
- She paid the price.

- Who else paid
the price, Peter?

- Hazel.

She grew up without a mother.

- And Margaret.

She dedicated
the rest of her life

to looking after
you, didn't she?

- Well, Margaret
would've only ended up

doing the same thing
for some other man.

Harsh but true.

- Did you murder
Mary Claverton, Peter?

- I had to.

- Why?

- She was pregnant.

It was the end of my career.

- But it was love, wasn't it?

Hm?

Why didn't you just own
up, write a poem, marry her?

- Still the end of my career.

- And your career means
that much to you, does it?

- To me.
- What, more than anything?

- Yes.

- So Mary came to
your house to tell you

that she was pregnant, yes?

- It wasn't at the house.

I was working late at school.

She came there.

- So why does Margaret say
that she came to the house?

- Margaret doesn't know
what day it is half the time.

- And this was the first time

that you found out
that she was pregnant.

- Yes.
- Right.

- She kept insisting
that she wanted the child,

that she wanted me.

She was out of control.

She wouldn't listen to the
damage it would do to me,

to my daughters.

I couldn't let that happen.

I didn't mean to hurt her.

I was just trying to...

make her shut up.

I put my hand over her mouth.

She kept struggling.

♪♪

I lost control.

I suffocated her.

I buried her.

♪♪

♪♪

- Braces.

♪♪

- I've made a total
mess of my life,

haven't I?

- Hats off to him making
a run for manslaughter.

"Oh, I just put my
hand over her mouth,

and she stopped breathing."

That's cold-blooded
murder in anybody's book.

"Oh, she got pregnant.

"I didn't know what
to do with my career.

It was the end."

- Something's
not right with this.

It's not.

- Guv, we got a confession.

- Why did Margaret say that
Mary came to the house that night

if she was at the
school with Peter?

- Margaret's barking
mad. It's like he said.

She doesn't even know
what day of the week it is.

- Where's Hazel?

- Room two.

- Your father's confessed to
the murder of Mary Claverton.

- No.

That's stupid. Why's
he saying that?

- They were lovers, Hazel.

She was pregnant by him.

- What?

- Are you trying to tell
me you didn't know?

I thought she told
you everything.

- She never told us
anything about me dad.

Ever. There was
nothing— Nothing to tell.

- So who was she taunting
you about, then, Hazel?

Who was the older man,

the Rochester
figure with the scars

that only she could
see and you couldn't?

- She was talking
about David Nugent.

- Oh.

Why him, then?

- It's like Shelley said.
She knew I fancied him.

- Sit down, Hazel.

Come on, sit down.

What scars does
David Nugent have?

- How should I know?

- Are you telling me that
Mary was having an affair

with David Nugent
and not your father?

- No, I'm no— I'm
not saying that.

- No, because the scars
were caused by the break-up

of your father's
marriage to your mother

and the fallout of his having
got another schoolgirl pregnant

15 years ago.

- Why do you think your
mother did a bunk, Hazel?

- On the night that Mary died,

you and Shelley waited for
her at the bus stop, correct?

- Yeah.

- But she didn't turn up,

so you and Shelley went
dancing together, correct?

- Yeah.

- What were you wearing?

- What?

- What were you wearing?

- A dress. Why?

- What color was it?

- I can't remember.

- Can't remember?
Fashion's important to you.

- It was blue.

- Are you sure?

- Yeah. It was blue.

- Bring Shelley in.

I think your father
loves you very much.

Doesn't he, Hazel?

- There, Shelley.

- The night you and Hazel
waited for Mary at the bus stop,

you went off dancing together.

You remember?
- Yeah.

- Yeah.

And Hazel was wearing
a red dress, yeah?

- Yeah.

- Are you positive about that?

- Yeah, if she says so.
- She said it was blue.

- Yeah, it was blue.

- Hazel wasn't there
at all, was she, Shelley?

- You can tell the
truth, Shell. Don't worry.

- I went on me own.

She turned up
later at the dance.

- How much later?

- A lot later.

- Come on, Shelley.

- So where were you
that night, then, Hazel?

Had you arranged to meet Mary?

- Hazel cannot account
for her whereabouts

on the night of the murder.

- She was out dancing.
That's been established.

- No, she wasn't.
- Was she with you?

- Hazel, you must tell
them where you were.

This is idiotic.

- Why should I take any notice
from a dirty old man like you?

- Just tell them where you were

and get home and
be with Margaret.

- That was my friend
you were shagging, Dad.

- Hazel...

- That wasn't even
the first time, was it?

That's the reason I don't
have a mother, isn't it?

Because of you.

- None of that matters now.
- It matters to me.

- Daddy?

Hazel?

Daddy, what's happening?

- Why's she been brought here?

This is an outrage.

Margaret doesn't
belong in a place like this.

- What did you ever
care about Margaret?

You stole her life.

- Hazel, don't talk
to Daddy like that.

- Look at yourself,
Margaret. He paralyzed you!

How many young girls'
lives have you ruined

just so you could
go on seeing yourself

as some man with
a soul full of poetry?

You have no soul.

You're all the same.

Pathetic old men so
frightened of your dead-end lives

that you suck the life out us.

- Who are we talking
about here, Hazel?

- I'll tell you where
I was that Friday.

Same place I was
the Friday before

and the Friday before that.

Every Friday for the
past three months, in fact.

Like a fool.

Between half past
7:00 and half past 8:00,

on me back on his
carpet in front of his fire

with David Nugent,
hoping against hope

that what we were doing
would stop him ever growing old.

A young girl my age, Dad,

is allowed to make a
mistake and move on.

But a man your age isn't!

People like you and David
Nugent are meant to take care of us.

Not use us.

- Can we have the
truth now, Mr. Holdaway?

- I've told you all
you need to know.

I murdered Mary Claverton.

- No, Daddy.

- Be quiet, Margaret.

Margaret?

- No.

- Margaret?

What do you want to tell us?

- We're going to get married.

Oh, don't worry. Nothing
will change for yous.

The baby's due in
the summer holidays,

and I'll go back to school,

and you can take
care of the baby.

I mean, you're used to it.

And then we could
all live here together.

- Daddy never said
anything about this.

- He'll agree.

I just need to talk
to him. Where is he?

He should be here. I
told him I was coming.

This is the night that
changes my life forever.

Oh.

Oh, dear.

I'm going to be your mum.

- You never really noticed me.

I wasn't clever.

I wasn't pretty.

What did I have to do?

- Peter Holdaway,
I'm charging you

with attempting to pervert
the course of justice.

You do not have to say
anything, but anything you do say

may be given in evidence.

Do you understand?

Follow me.

- Margaret Holdaway,
I'm charging you

with the murder
of Mary Claverton.

You do not have to say
anything, but anything you do say

may be used in evidence.

Do you understand?

- No, not really.

- Margaret...

growing old alone in prison.

He'll get a lighter
sentence, but still,

he'll grow old alone too.

That's what he couldn't face.

You should find yourself
another wife, George.

I mean it.

- Maybe, John.

What about you?
It's the weekend.

Got any plans?

- Who, me?
- Yeah, you.

- Do you really want to know,
or are you just being polite?

- No, I'm just being polite.

- Right, well.

I, me, John Bacchus...

am on a promise.

♪♪

Hello! All: Hello, Hazel!

- Hello, everybody, because
we are going nationwide tonight

for the very first time!

And we are very pleased
to welcome you all here

to the Northeast.

As someone once said to me,
"I hope I die before I get old."

But, hey, it's Friday night,

and the world goes Upside Down!

♪♪

- ♪ You said that you
don't need a thing ♪

♪ But what you
need is what I bring ♪

♪ I said I bring
my love to you ♪

♪ Hope you change
the tune you sing ♪

♪ When I show up
with your diamond ring ♪

♪ I bring my love to you ♪

♪ But you don't want me to ♪

♪ I got to live on ♪

♪ I got to live on ♪

♪ I got nothing else to do ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh,
ooh with my love ♪

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