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How's he doing?

He's fine. At least he says he's fine.

But is he just saying it,

or does he really mean it?

Truthfully, I think he's just saying it.

He's tidying, Geordie.

Since when does he tidy?

Since five o'clock this morning, apparently.

-He's like a man possessed. -He's not fine.

No, I don't think he's fine at all.

-Has his mother been in touch? -Nothing. Radio silence.

Poor lad.

Must feel like she's abandoned him all over again.

Who's abandoned who?

-Uh, Mrs C. -And Dickens.

-Mrs C's abandoned Dickens? -Yep.

That's about the size of it.

Why are you both in my kitchen?

I just wanted to see if you'd spoken to the bishop.

You said you were going to speak to the bishop.

Uh, yes.

With regard to me lay preaching.

Yeah, I will. I will do that.

You want to rejoin the church?

I'm searching for spiritual intent.

I'm just here for the bacon.

Ow.

I'm seeing him next week. I'll talk to him then.

That would be marvellous.

Sooner rather than later, if you could.

You busy?

I'm tidying, Geordie.

So I hear. Lord Worley...

Not died, has he?

Not that I know of.

Why, is it on the cards?

Well, uh... He's old. He's lonely.

Well, he's not got long left.

I've been going up to pray with him.

That'll certainly speed him along.

No, he's been burgled.

And I thought you could do with a break from the tidying.

Oh.

Yeah, give me five minutes.

Dickens?

I panicked. Sorry.

So...

I'm fine.

I haven't asked you anything yet.

You were going to ask how I was doing,

and the answer is "fine."

Me and Meg were always destined to be friends.

You and Meg?

What's happened with you and Meg?

Well, she's seeing someone else,

which feels like the right thing.

Morning, Reuben. How are you?

Briggs won't let you in that way.

You know how he gets.

Ah.

Geordie, I usually go in through the kitchens.

Buggar that.

I wasn't thinking about Meg, as it happens.

I was thinking about your mother.

-Oh, that. -Yeah, that.

The way I see it, God has a plan for me.

And, well, my mother being around at the moment,

it isn't part of it, so...

-Oh, it's God's will? -Exactly.

Only it might not just be God's will.

-What did you do? -Nothing.

I just suggested...

Suggested what?

That Mira needed to be 100% sure that she wanted this.

Right.

"This" being a relationship with her son?

Well, yes. I was trying to help.

So let me get this straight.

You find my mother, against my will,

and then you send her away, also against my will.

I don't want to see you get hurt.

Like now, you mean?

You said you were fine.

I am fine.

Inspector Keating, Cambridgeshire Police.

Tradesmen's entrance is left and left again.

We're not tradesmen.

Well, you're not the sort of people I let in the front door.

Is that right?

I had a report about a burglary.

Uh, excuse me one moment.

Are you angry with me?

No.

You can be angry if you want.

Well, that's very generous of you.

Thank you, Geordie.

What on earth are those?

-I made them. -With what?

Flour, bicarb...

You don't even know what bicarb is.

Prefix bi, meaning double,

carbonate, meaning... carbonate.

-Are you drunk? -No.

First time for everything, I suppose, Briggs.

Tell Father we're here for tea.

And park the car, would you? There's a good chap.

Well, how about this?

Strangers a calling. How thrilling.

They've just arrived to investigate the burglary.

Thank you, Briggs.

Inspector.

And you must be our vicar.

Father said you were something of a novelty.

I wonder what he meant by that?

If you'd follow Walter to the scene of the crime

and do whatever it is you do.

We'd appreciate it if this matter

were dealt with promptement.

He can't speak French. He's just showing off.

And she didn't make those cakes.

I'll make a note of that.

I've listed everything that was taken.

Bugger took everything of value. Mother's brooches, her tiara,

butterfly necklace Allegra's been coveting.

It's of deep sentimental value.

Funny how your sentimentality seems to correlate

directly to the ratio of diamonds.

We'll need paperwork for the insurance claim.

And I can speak French, by the way.

Fluently, as it happens.

I'm sorry. You are?

The honourable Jonathan Worley, son and heir of Lord Worley.

That was clever. Didn't even see your mouth move.

Can we speak to your father?

Lord Worley is sleeping.

He's unaware of any of this nastiness.

And I intend to keep it that way.

See them out when they're done.

Apologies for my brother.

He can be terribly grand sometimes.

-Dipso. -Degenerate.

He has a wife who hates him and a son

who looks nothing like him. Make of that what you will.

Allegra.

I don't suppose you fancy a little pick-me-up, do you?

We're working.

Yes, yes, go on.

I knew you were a compadre.

I could tell the moment I saw you.

Show them to the drawing room, Briggs.

Follow me, please.

I'm not working.

Chucked it through the window, rifled through the drawers.

Who throws a paperweight when you're trying to rob a place?

Hmm? Why not jimmy the lock?

And who keeps their jewellery in the odds and sods drawer?

No one keeps anything of importance in drawers like this.

This is where you say you think it's been staged,

and I say, "inside job."

I put money on it.

Ah.

Thank you.

Sure I can't tempt you, Inspector?

-Pretty sure. -What shall we toast to?

Another day, another bender.

No retreat, no surrender.

I think it's time I spoke to Lord Worley.

Jonty wouldn't like that. And besides, Pa's...

Sleeping? Here's a novel idea. How about we wake him up?

I object to this with some gusto.

Pa's very grumpy when he's woken up.

I think we can manage.

Ready for round two, Vicar?

Hmm. Why not?

I could give you a few reasons.

His Lordship's taking a nap.

So everyone seems very keen to tell me.

Well, I've only just got him off,

so I'd rather you didn't wake him,

if it's all the same to you.

And I'd rather you didn't hamper my investigation,

if it's all the same to you.

Go forth from this world

in the love of God who created you.

In the power of the Holy Spirit who strengthens you.

May you dwell this day in peace.

It's your dream.

It's the words from your dream.

It's a prayer, Geordie.

-Silas Marner. -Never read it.

It's about loneliness.

Burn marks around his mouth.

Poisoning.

-My bet's on morphine. -Very good, Larry.

Mine too.

He's been here hours.

-If not days. -How did they not notice?

They noticed.

Someone noticed.

Give me a moment.

How often did you look in on Lord Worley?

Every two hours.

That's what his kids pay me for. Badly, if truth be told.

So you checked on him two hours ago?

He was asleep.

What training do you have, Hepsibah?

Three years of nursing college, five years on the job.

Then I'm guessing you know the difference

between a man who's asleep and one who's decomposing.

I'm gonna lose my job over this, aren't I?

That's the least of your worries, love.

We come here once a week.

Every Friday morning.

-We have tea and cakes. -And some terribly stilted chat.

You were here last Friday?

We couldn't do last Friday.

-So, before that? -Hard to pinpoint exactly.

-A month or two back. -Once in a blue moon, then?

He was not an easy man.

He was a bastard, Allegra. Let's not be coy.

He made our lives a misery.

So the only people in the house

for the past couple of days would be...

The nurse, and Briggs.

-Larry, bring them both in. -Boss.

Thank you, sir. We'll be in touch.

My Lord.

I'm Lord Worley now.

My Lord...

Jonty is buggering off.

Business to attend to, apparently.

I can't stand the thought of rattling around,

just me and the ghosts.

Stay for a little bit, would you?

You coming?

She's just lost her father. I should...

Okey dokey.

There's a bell pull by Lord Worley's bed.

It broke 10 years ago or more,

like everything else in the house.

So, how did he get your attention?

I'd go and check on him.

Mmm-hmm. How often?

Morning, night...

Often as I could.

This morning, last night?

I assumed the nurse was there.

I assumed she was doing her job.

And was she doing a good job, in your opinion?

No.

-Negligent? -It looked that way to me.

But when you have two rotten kids like Lord Worley,

negligence is a lot better than what he was used to.

They said they were there a month or so back.

They haven't visited him this year.

Father expressly said never to drink this. Are you game?

I am if you are.

Can hardly take it with him.

He looks very pensive.

Blotto, more like. Runs in the family.

Who is he?

Oh, God, I don't know. Um...

Great-great uncle or some such...

Amazing.

That you can trace your family all that way back.

But you said things would change...

My father has just died. How dare you.

Ungrateful and insensitive.

Be careful you don't cross a line.

This house is one great big draughty mausoleum.

Do you know the worst of it? I don't get a bean.

All goes to Jonts.

Hmm. Praise be to the firstborn boy.

Praise be, indeed.

She's from a private nursing agency.

Hired by the son.

How long's she been Lord Worley's...

January 14 this year, she started.

No criminal record.

Won an award for compassion in 1961.

What have you been putting in his porridge?

Personal development.

My bedtime reading.

I'm learning to believe in myself.

Mmm. Sounds a bit too upbeat for my liking.

You're reading it next.

Uh, Miss Scott here is gonna search your handbag

because I've learned only bad things happen when I do.

If you must.

Trip to Brighton. Very nice. Bit of sea air.

Cinema yesterday at 08:30.

Breath of Life.

There's irony for you.

I don't expect you to understand.

Try me.

This job, all I see is suffering.

Old folk dying alone and no one to hold their hand.

Apart from you, of course, if you'd been there.

It was just so... airless in that room.

So miserable.

So you left him on his own

for a day trip to the seaside?

I feel awful, I do.

He was a nice old chap.

-A bit grumpy... -Aren't we all?

Sometimes it's all just too much.

You have to get away from it.

All the death, all that sadness.

-It's... -Exhausting?

He was a miser, Lord Worley.

He made a note of every penny that went into that house,

every penny that came out.

Every phone call.

And where did he do that?

In that book of his.

The one about the old fella.

-Silas Marner? -That's the one.

Wouldn't even stretch to a notebook, old skinflint.

Ring-ring, ring-ring.

Reverend Finch speaking?

How may I be of service to you in this,

your hour of desperate need?

I can make believe, can't I?

-Alphy? -He's not here. He's...

He's up at Lord Worley's.

Not died, has he?

Not that I know of. Will I do?

-No. -Oh.

It's parish business, and you are not of this parish.

I am in my heart. Try me.

A crime wave is sweeping Grantchester.

What is it? Barbarity? Bigamy?

-Milk. -Milk?

Three bottles and a loaf of granary bread,

pinched right from the doorstep.

This shall not stand, Mrs C.

Mrs Green on Mill Road.

She thought it was birds.

Stealing a milk bottle in its entirety?

She's not quite the full ticket anymore, bless her.

-Ooh. I've had a thought. -Oh, dear.

Crime tends not to be random

but influenced by the intersection

of offender and victim.

Absolutely none the wiser.

If we work out his pattern,

we'll know where he'll strike next.

What was the next thing that went missing?

Pie from a window ledge at Abbots Reach.

Mr Brant's granary loaf.

Milk from Lacie's farm.

-There's no pattern. -There is if you squint.

He's gonna strike again, Leonard.

Then we must be ready for him.

Okay, your turn.

Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets.

Oh, I... I don't have any.

Oh, come on. Every family has a skeleton in their armoire.

I don't really know my family.

That is an outstanding skeleton.

Also, I have no idea what an armoire is.

Tell me everything.

Okay, um...

Well, I was a foundling.

Lucky bugger.

I just met my mother, actually.

Was she wicked?

Mmm.

She was lovely.

Disappointing.

Mmm.

It just...

It just didn't work out, and...

Yeah, I'm okay with that.

Hello?

Yes, they are expensive, but they're hand stitched.

They're Italian.

And I figure if we invest in something more upmarket,

then we get a more upmarket customer.

What's your instinct telling you?

We do it.

Well, there you go then.

Crikey.

It sends me quite giddy, making decisions.

It shouldn't do. You're bloody good at it.

Am I?

A bona fide woman of business.

-Glamorous too. -Tell that to my kids.

Hello, Cece's Boutique.

Are you still at it?

Busy day.

It's like the Marie Celeste here.

The kids are at Esme's.

I thought we were having a family dinner.

They are, just not with you.

Get some chips on your way home, would you, love?

Need more sustenance than cream of tomato.

Will do.

-So, how was your day... -See you later. Bye.

They never answered his calls.

It's in a terrible shape.

I suppose that's what a lifetime of bad decisions

-does to a place. -Your father?

Place was crumbling beneath him.

You should have seen it in its heyday,

the parties we'd have.

This room was filled with the great and good.

Band over here.

Pa looking handsome in his white tie.

Mother, stunning.

They'd dance for hours until the sun came up.

I loved Pa.

And I despised him at the same time.

Is that a terrible thing to admit?

No.

I grew up surrounded by so many people,

and I always felt so alone.

I think it's time we got another bottle, don't you?

Alfy?

Yeah?

It's late. I should...

Should you?

I think so.

That's a shame.

Night.

Please don't leave me.

Ooh, Italian couture.

Can you believe it?

We'll have an actual Italian in actual Italy

making dresses for little old Cece's.

Am I going to die alone?

And there was I, thinking we were talking about me.

Lord Worley's kids left him to die.

That's going to be me, isn't it?

Aw, of course it isn't, my darling.

The men always go first.

Probably only got a few years left in you.

-Cheers. -Don't worry.

I'll keep you in your dotage.

Mr Switch says I'm a bona fide businesswoman,

Do you think I should take the chief inspector job, Cath?

I wouldn't be on the front line, but maybe that's a good thing.

I don't think I've got it in me anymore.

All that death, day after day.

It's not even the bodies, really.

It's the people.

It's their miserable lives.

It drags you down in the end.

-It sure does. -Mmm.

I'll see you later.

Reuben, the gardener.

Make it look more appealing.

We're catching a thief. Not winning the country show.

Now what?

We wait.

Where's Alphy?

Honestly? I have had it up to the neck with you.

And remember who you're reporting to.

Breakfast?

I imagine you've worked up quite an appetite.

Um...

No, thank you.

Let me show you out, Vicar.

-If you sell... -When. When we sell...

We'll be homeless, my Lord.

Great.

Do you think you're the only one?

I'm losing a home too. So self-absorbed.

Morning, Vicar.

Good of you to minister to my sister in her hour of need.

Yeah, you're selling, aren't you?

Time to remove the albatross from one's neck.

Oh, good. Your friend's here, too.

Perfect.

-Alphy. -Alphy.

You're up early.

Yeah, I... I was just...

Ah. Never complain, never explain.

Though I doubt he's got much to complain about.

My sister's quite a goer

-by all accounts. -Jonty.

She collects conquests like other people collects stamps.

Don't you?

And you're all purity and light are you?

She has a particular fondness for the foreign ones.

You're so vile.

Always nice when you've collected the whole set,

isn't it, sis?

Children.

Enough.

I'm looking for the gardener.

According to Lord Worley's records,

he bought you a paperweight for your birthday.

The old bastard.

Not a paperweight kind of chap, I take it.

I've dedicated my life to this place.

Like my father before me.

Everything you see right out here, that's my doing.

And he gives me a lousy paperweight.

Which ended up through his window.

Yeah, I threw it.

I'm not gonna deny it.

Felt good to be honest with you.

Well, you were angry.

Yeah, I was angry.

Angry enough to kill?

What would I have to gain from that?

We live here. We got a cottage on the estate.

You're beholden to the family.

Yeah.

Me, my wife, my little girl, Lily.

We try and keep on the right side of him.

For all the good that's done.

Where he's got us living is damp.

It's mouldy. Lily is sick all the time.

And I asked Lord Worley to do something about it.

-I begged him. -Nothing?

No, nothing.

I saw you arguing with his son.

Nah. Well, I hoped he might care,

but he's throwing us out, so.

Just say what you want to say.

I don't want to say anything.

What the hell were you thinking?

-There it is. -Dallying with a suspect

in the house of a dead man. Her father, no less.

Yeah, I...

If you tell me you're fine one more time,

I will not be responsible for my actions.

I think I might be a bit lost.

Lost?

You're a Greek flipping tragedy, Alphy.

I'm not that bad. I'm not saying you're bad.

I'm saying the situation is...

Your mother's abandoned you again.

And whose fault is that?

She made a choice, Alphy.

I didn't force her to do anything.

Just leave it, please.

I saw something.

In the house. Something I'm not sure I was meant to see.

You're telling me?

Midway Auction House mean...

Up by Jesus Green?

Someone's boxing things up, selling them off.

I miss this. Being here.

-You're here all the time. -Not like when I was a curate.

Do you ever feel lacking in purpose?

I'm a woman.

All we have is purpose, whether we like it or not.

I wish I could come back.

But you're doing so well.

-You're helping men of sin. -That's not what we call them.

You're helping men who've made bad decisions make good ones.

It doesn't feel like God's work.

He would approve, I'm sure.

I like doing things for God.

I'm drifting without the church.

Like I don't have worth.

You have worth, Leonard. Silly boy.

He's here.

This is a citizen's arrest.

Raymond?

Go on, then.

I'm mortally wounded, Mrs C.

Raymond Hayes, come back here right now!

They don't look happy.

Well, I doubt they know how, to be honest.

Well, this is gonna push them over the edge.

Looks like Daddy didn't love them that much after all.

Exhibit A, an empty plate.

Once filled with some very good, if rather crumbly, biscuits.

They were meant to be crumbly.

That wasn't a criticism, Mrs C. Just an observation.

What do you have to say for yourself, young man?

No. I bruise like a peach.

Raymond, you come right back here!

Go on then.

Midway Auctioneers. Some nice stuff in here.

Get yourself a real bargain.

Why don't you stop with the theatrics

and tell us why we're here?

There's no need to be rude, Jonts.

I'm not being rude. I'm being to the point.

Tomayto, tomahto.

It's a fine collection of jewellery.

Tiara, brooches...

Butterfly necklace.

Some bastard stole them and auctioned them off.

Well, this catalogue was from two months ago.

Wrong. These were the exact items

stolen the day Father died.

Only they'd already been stolen and already been sold.

By whom exactly?

-There was a burglary. -There was no burglary.

I beg to differ. The window and the paperweight.

Nothing to do with it.

You used it as an opportunity to cover your tracks.

Yeah, throw a few things about, make it look like a burglary.

You had quite a racket going, according to the auction house.

You've been selling things off for months.

You unconscionable little cow.

Moo, moo, moo. You sold things.

You sold Great Granny's portrait.

To keep the lights on.

You'd sell the bloody lights if you could.

Looks like you got there first.

And where were you, Jonty? Everything was mouldering.

What did it matter if I took a few things?

I own the house. I own its contents.

Wrong.

You don't own the house or its contents.

Eppie does.

And who, pray tell, is Eppie?

Lord Worley's last will and testament.

And the lucky recipient is...

Ta-da... You.

You're having me on.

"All my worldly goods I bequeath to Eppie."

Short for Hephzibah.

Well, I didn't know he'd done that.

So you didn't get him to sign over everything to you.

Then you make him a nice cup of tea.

Milk, sugar,

-morphine. -No.

You could almost understand it if you'd helped him on his way.

I went to the cinema to avoid seeing him suffer.

Why would I do that if I was happy

to put him out of his misery?

So...

I get the house then, do I?

Imagine all the dusting.

I knew he never loved us.

Don't take it to heart, Jonty. He wasn't capable of it.

Perhaps if you'd shown him some love in return.

And what do you know of love? You were never loved.

Don't speak to him like that.

So you're arresting her? This Eppie?

I knew I didn't trust her.

She's staying in custody till we complete our inquiries.

-Good. -As are you both.

That is indefensible.

Quite defensible as it happens.

My Lord.

Try not to disturb anything.

We're missing something...

Hospital corners.

Two cups of tea.

The lamp.

Someone lit it for him.

Paraffin levels suggests it had been burning

approximately 11 hours before the death.

So not the nurse, because she was in the cinema.

Someone sits with him, smoothes his blankets,

gives him tea, brings him flowers.

Someone cares.

-Where's the book? -Silas Marner?

I've gone through all of it.

Eppie.

It isn't short for Hephzibah. It's the girl in the story.

Yeah, an old man, saved from his misery,

reborn through the love of a child.

There's only one person who cared for Lord Worley.

Don't tell me... The bloody butler did it.

Raymond Hayes, you open this door.

Where's your father?

I'm not leaving till I speak to him.

I think he might be dying.

I liked him.

I know not many did, but he had a good heart underneath it all.

You brought him flowers.

You tucked him in, you lit a night light.

He was afraid of the dark at the end.

Afraid of being alone.

You're Eppie.

Aren't you?

He called you Eppie.

He said I reminded him of that book of his.

I never read it myself.

He gave me that name, and I humoured him.

Lord Worley asked you to make

two phone calls the night he died.

To his daughter and to his son.

He's asking for you. Please, Miss Allegra.

I simply can't be at his beck and call,

Briggs. Selfish old fool.

He was in pain, and he was lonely.

He wanted to see them.

What did you tell Lord Worley?

That they were on their way.

I didn't want to break his heart.

His children say he was a tyrant.

He was difficult, but he was fascinating and worldly.

They never once tried to put themselves in his shoes.

They only ever wanted to see things how they saw them.

Selfish bastards.

So you sat up with him, waiting for them to arrive,

knowing they never would.

You brought him his cup of tea.

With a fatal dose of morphine in it.

I didn't want him to suffer any more.

And he never had to know...

that he was entirely alone in this world.

Doesn't everyone deserve a bit of kindness?

Doesn't everyone deserve a bit of compassion now and then?

That compassion will get you a few years inside.

Worth it. I think, for a friend.

And you get the house too, which is quite the billy bonus.

That's not the will.

That's not the last one he wrote.

Well, according to the solicitors it is.

He went to another solicitor.

I didn't care about the house.

Lord Worley found a more fitting beneficiary.

The will's in an envelope, a brown envelope.

I thought no one kept anything

of importance in a drawer as this.

Always happy to be proven wrong.

-Don't tell me it's the kids. -Well, Christ on a bike.

Welcome home.

What do you think of this, eh?

Isn't it beautiful?

This cannot be legally binding. I refuse to believe it.

Yeah, I'd get going if I were you.

-You're trespassing. -Alphy.

You must see what a dire spot this has left us in.

We have nowhere.

-We have no one. -And whose fault is that?

You're no fun when you're pious.

Good luck with your stamp collecting.

What's this?

A little bedtime read. The Power of Positive Thinking.

Huh?

I know you've got a big decision to make.

Chapter 6.

-How do you know that? -I know everything.

What if I make the wrong decision?

Chapter 7.

Well done for today, Larry.

You're a detective inspector in the making.

-You reckon? -I can almost guarantee it.

He wasn't up to no good, was he?

He came to the vicarage to ask for help.

Sensible young chap.

We'll have you right as rain in no time.

I'll get you some more water.

Doctor's on his way, Marcus.

Thank you, Vicar.

You're welcome.

"Dear sir,".

As you know, I consider this job more than a vocation.

I consider it my life's work.

In truth, I'd be lost without it.

So if it's a choice between a life drifting about at home,

getting under the wife's feet,

"or a life of purpose, then I choose the latter."

Pub?

Go on then, Mr. Switch. Why not?

Peter, please.

"Taking a step back will be hard,

but I know the station is in safe hands."

"It would be my honour to accept the role of Chief Inspector."

The place looks good.

Very tidy.

I think it might have been a distraction.

The tidying.

I didn't like to say it.

I don't think my mum wants to see me again.

I know.

Maybe it's God's will.

Maybe.

Or maybe I'm just using that as an excuse.

Maybe.

Do you know what I'd do if I were you?

I'd get in your car, I'd go and see her,

however painful it might be.

I'd listen when I wanted to shout.

I'd forgive when I wanted to punish.

The thing is, Alphy,

God has a will, but so do we.

We have one life.

What kind of life would that be if we sat and did nothing?

What if she doesn't want me?

Then we'll be here waiting for you.