Original subtitles

♪ Blue memories

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ That's what you left me

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Things that we used to do

♪ Are keeping me blue And alone ♪

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Blue memories

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ That's what you left me

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Your one tender touch

♪ I miss so much Since you've gone ♪

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

- ♪ I keep living - ♪ Living

- ♪ In the past - ♪ In the past

♪ That should have died A long time ago ♪

♪ Blue memories

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ That's what you left me

♪ La, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Darling, why did you go?

♪ You know I'll always Love you so ♪

"And then my heart with pleasure fills

and dances with the daffodils."

Gets you all of a quiver, doesn't it?

Speak for yourself.

I know you're a man who doesn't...

Enjoy poetry with his pint?

Open his heart easily.

And losing Will, as we did...

He's five hours up the A1, not six foot under.

If you ever want to talk about him,

or the aching hole in your heart,

I'm here.

I'm fine, Leonard.

There is a gentleman breaking into the vicarage,

a swarthy gentleman.

No, stay here.

You'll need backup.

Look at me. I'm all of a quiver.

Everyone's at it today.

Guard the door.

It would be my honour, boss.

Gotcha!

Bloody hellfire.

That's it. I'm calling the police.

I am the police.

Detective Geordie Keating.

You're under arrest.

For what?

Punching a policeman.

Breaking and entering.

Theft.

And what am I supposed to have stolen?

Well, that, for starters.

That's mine.

Oh, pull the other one.

What's your name? - It's my radio.

Name.

I'm not giving you my name.

Right. That's it.

It's my radio and it's my house.

If this was your house, that would make... you...

Oh, God.

Not quite but, you know, on speaking terms.

You're the new vicar.

I'm the new vicar.

Right.

Well...

Apologies for the... - For the assault?

Misunderstanding.

Someone reported me, didn't they?

What did they say?

Just that they'd seen a...

gentleman trying to enter the property.

Any particular kind of gentleman?

Nope, nope, nope.

I'll leave you to settle in.

Oh, that's very generous of you. Thank you very much.

Oh, er, just so you know,

the stove's a bit temperamental.

You need to give the door a good shove.

You sure you're a policeman?

Pretty sure.

Did you get him? - Did you punch his lights out?

Reverend Alphy Kottaram.

Oh.

Oh. - Yeah.

Pleasure to meet you, Mrs...

Chapman. - Sylvia.

Not me.

She's Sylvia. I'm Finch. Leonard.

Leonard of the House of Finch.

I would invite you in for a cup of tea,

but unfortunately, all my cups are broken, so...

Well, if you ever need anything...

Oh, you'll be the first person I call.

What's he like?

I don't know.

Is he old? Young? Tall, short?

He is not from these climes.

Cambridge? - He is...

Indian.

Why are you whispering?

A foreigner. It's unsettling.

Is he handsome?

Esme!

Is he?

He's got a good right hook on him.

That's all I know.

Maybe now you can stop pining.

I'm not pining.

I'm not!

You need a friend, Dad.

He needs a vicar.

I don't need a vicar.

Er, no! Absolutely not.

Mum! - You're not leaving

the house like that. Tell her, Mrs C.

Lipstick is a mortal sin, and vanity is the food of fools.

Pining...

As if I've been pining.

"Ye who turn judgement to wormwood,

and leave off righteousness in the earth..."

Wormwood?

Erm... You do know you're trespassing?

Whose land is it?

Mine.

Well, my family's.

Going back to Henry VIII, apparently.

Rather generous chap, all told.

Beheadings aside.

Student?

Vicar. - Oh.

I've heard all about you.

News travels fast.

Nothing stays secret here for long.

Rachel Baron.

Baron? As in Albert Baron?

My father.

I'm so sorry.

I've just been reading through the paperwork.

Must've been an awful shock.

He was a terrible curmudgeon.

Made Henry VIII look positively jovial.

There were no notes on the service.

I can make it more personal, if you like.

No, we don't need any of that.

I toyed with leaving him out on bin day,

but my brother objected.

Yeah, I can see why. - Hmm.

Well, I should get ready, I suppose.

See you soon. - Clothes on?

It's pretty much frowned upon to take a service any other way.

More's the pity.

You're the new one, are you?

My brother, Harvey.

Some well-meaning missionary

got their hands on you, did they?

Um... sorry?

You're a convert, I imagine.

Christian. Born and bred.

Really?

Will wonders never cease.

In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,

world without end.

Amen.

How about we close our eyes

and take a moment to reflect on happier times?

Memories of your dad when you were younger.

A time when he was...

...filled with laughter...

and life.

When he smiled a little easier.

Harvey!

That is enough!

Do that again, son,

and I won't be responsible for my actions.

I am not your son!

Leave.

Now! - Let's go, Dad.

See you in hell, you old bastard.

Admit what you did. Admit it!

Your father took his own life!

I wish for your sakes he hadn't.

I'm so sorry. We just wanted to pay our respects.

Dad was murdered, Vicar. - Harv, come on now.

He was murdered, and I can prove it.

Didn't think I'd see you again.

I was sort of hoping the same.

Eventful funeral, I hear.

They're inside.

Walkers in one room, Barons in the other.

Well, at least, I hope that's still the case.

Not sticking around?

Ah, well, not really my remit, is it?

Murder.

Life, death, everything in between.

Thought you lot covered it all.

Not when there's a pint calling.

Godspeed, Inspector.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

In 1545, Henry VII gave my ancestors a piece of land.

When I said, "start at the beginning,"

I was, perhaps naively, hoping for this century.

The land was a gift from the King to his mistress.

My great-great, etcetera, aunt.

She was incredible in the sack, apparently.

Lucky old Henry.

This bit of land.

It backs straight onto our house.

It backs straight onto our house.

Ten acres. Fields, a stretch of river.

Rather lovely, really,

if there wasn't so much acrimony involved.

The problem is it sits directly between our house

and the Walkers'.

We call it no-man's land.

The Barons think it's theirs.

It's ours.

It's always been ours.

It's been hell. Tit for tat, back and forth,

never-ending arguments and posturing.

A man must defend what is rightfully his, Jamie.

It's exhausting.

Mr Baron's death was investigated.

The coroner concluded suicide.

Exactly.

Shot with his own rifle.

It wasn't his rifle, Inspector.

And there's the rub.

It wasn't his bloody rifle! Do you hear me, you bastards?

What?

What did you say?

Harvey!

All right, back in your corners!

Afternoon, gents.

Erm, can I buy anyone a drink?

Fair enough, erm...

Pint of your finest, please.

Not that fine.

Er... Well, pint of your distinctly average, then.

Oh, yeah, erm...

can I put this up somewhere?

Just, erm...

Open day tomorrow, if anyone fancies it.

Hoping to get a lively conversation going

about the parish.

Perhaps lively is over-stretching it.

Are your clocks slow?

It's an hour slow.

Grantchester time.

What, you're in a different time zone, are you?

Makes sense, I suppose.

Ah, cheers.

Lovely to meet you all.

This is where we found him.

With this rifle.

He'd been dead a while.

Overnight, they think.

It's horrible to think he died alone.

Why didn't you mention your concerns about his death before?

We only got his effects back yesterday.

This was the gun they found with him.

Dad had a rifle just like that, Harvey.

Yes, but he would notch the handle

after every deer that he killed.

There's no notches.

This isn't his rifle, Inspector.

Which rather begs the question,

whose rifle is it?

Have you sorted it?

Not quite.

Here's the thing. - Okay.

Here's the thing.

Yes, you've said that already.

Just answer my questions, I'll be out of your hair.

Okay. - Good.

You haven't actually asked me anything yet.

I have, in the past,

come to your predecessors to ask for help.

Of a religious nature.

Marriage problems?

No.

Sexual problems? - No.

Spiritual, then?

Of a sort.

I need your help with the case.

Right. You see, that's still not actually a question.

Christ on a bike. Will you help me or not?

No.

Right.

Any particular reason?

I'm not a great believer in the police.

I'm not a great believer in God...

Well, then! There we are.

What have you got against us,

if you don't mind my asking?

In a nutshell, you're a bunch of morally bankrupt,

power-hungry, violent thugs

who wield their power purely to inflate their own egos

and line their own pockets.

Who enforces the law without us?

God?

Well, he'd do a better job.

Anyone would do a better job,

someone who cares.

I didn't used to care.

Not very much.

Till I met one of you lot.

Now I have got empathy pouring out of me at a rate of knots.

Would be a lot easier in your line of work

without it, I imagine.

Hell of a lot easier.

How can I help?

I need to take another look at the body,

exhume him.

No, you won't.

Yes, I will.

You won't need to exhume him.

Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?

The coffin's still in the church.

Ah.

Come on, then.

What, you don't need me, do you?

Authorisation and a witness statement.

Or I could just arrest you.

Now I'm starting to feel

a little bit persecuted here, Inspector.

Seem to have that effect on people.

Never seen so many uptight white men in one place.

And you work for the church.

They're bringing the body in now, boss.

This is DS Peters.

My original case notes.

You were the investigating officer?

Makes sense.

Looked like suicide.

I thought it. Coroner thought it.

Even the family.

Not any more, Larry.

You coming?

To the morgue? - Yes.

What, why would I come to the morgue?

No reason.

Take his statement.

Okay. Take a seat.

Okay, Mr Baron.

What have you got for me?

It really did look like suicide.

Okay.

Oh, you're the new one, are you?

The new? - Geordie's got a...

thing for vicars.

Okay, that's unnerving.

Didn't understand it at first,

but I'm starting to see the appeal.

He's been lonely without the old one.

Started talking to himself and everything.

No wedding ring, I see.

You don't mess about, do you?

There's a general shortage of decent men in this town, so...

If you ever need a tour guide.

I will come straight to you, Miss...

Call me Jennifer.

Alphy.

Me and her were an item for a bit.

Okay.

Never let me call her Jennifer.

Baron's right-handed.

So how'd he shoot himself in the right side of his chest?

It's almost impossible to hold a rifle that long

and shoot like that, especially with the wrong hand.

Why are you telling me this?

No reason. - So, can I go?

Any time you like.

Okay.

We must stop meeting like this.

That was going to be my line.

Hmm.

We just fell in love.

Across the barricades, as it were.

I don't think he believes us, darling.

No, no, of course I believe you. It...

It's just, I've met your families.

All this nonsense over a rather scrubby piece of land.

So you're ready to put all that behind you?

A new era.

Sorry. Don't mind me.

Jamie's such a romantic.

Used to send me the most darling love letters.

He'd hide them in the old oak tree out on no-man's land.

Can you believe it, Vicar?

Love's young dream.

And under our noses all this time.

To the happy couple.

It'll take some time

for the family to adjust to Jamie and me.

Well, judging by their previous record,

you might be looking at centuries.

I'm sure they'll come round.

Bless you, you are sweet.

Any ideas for the wedding?

Maybe I can suggest a few hymn...

Sorry to bother you, Alphy.

Leonard, of the House of Finch?

By way of an apology.

For the swarthy incident.

"Swarthy"?

I did wonder.

Mrs C is a little, erm... - Bigoted?

I was going to say "old-fashioned".

She just needs nudging in the right direction.

I'll get the oven on. The door sticks.

It needs a good shove.

So I hear.

Um, Leonard...

Oh, yes. Sorry.

This is Dickens.

He comes with the house.

He's very fond of sausages.

Hello, Dickens.

Hello.

He's been a bit needy since Will left.

He's pining.

Not the only one, I hear.

The police officer.

Poor Geordie.

He's a good egg.

He says all the right things but, erm...

You might think you know who Geordie is,

but you'd be wrong.

What, not a judgemental, right-wing,

ill-fitting-suit-wearing tyrant, then. Hmm?

No. Well, suit aside.

Hmm.

Honestly, he's more tolerant than you'd think.

I'll take your word for it.

I used to be curate here.

Oh. Why'd you leave?

Let's just say the church frowned on some of my...

romantic choices.

Oh, Leonard, you don't have to tell me.

You'll find out soon enough.

But Geordie's been wonderful

throughout the troubles that followed.

He's a very dear friend.

Give him a chance.

Yeah.

And everyone else in the village?

You'll find they take a while

to soften towards anything... different.

Did they soften towards you?

God, no. No.

It's easier dealing with convicted criminals

than the good people of Grantchester.

You like Dostoevsky?

Well, I'm not mad on him.

But you've read him? - Of course I have.

Oh, you have no idea how happy that makes me feel.

Thank you for a very entertaining evening.

No, thank you. It means a lot, really.

Leonard...

What d'you know about the Barons and the Walkers?

Where to start.

How about Rachel and Jamie? I mean...

Do they seem like a good match to you?

Put it this way, I never took Jamie as the marrying sort.

To Rachel, you mean?

To... any woman.

Don't worry. I'm coming back, Dickens.

Ah-ha. Trespassing, are we?

Um... I can explain.

Can you?

Not really, no. - Thought as much.

You come to arrest me, have you?

If you'll come with me, sir.

You're kidding me.

We had reports of a vicar trespassing.

Actually, we had two reports.

One from the Walkers and one from the Barons.

Both claiming you were on their land.

Let me guess.

Swarthy?

They didn't specify in terms of...

Swarthiness?

What were you doing up that tree?

Love letter from Jamie Walker.

For Rachel Baron?

You'd think so, wouldn't you?

"Please don't be angry.

I don't want to do it, but I had no choice."

Do what? Get married?

It's for her brother.

So Jamie Walker and... - And Harvey Baron.

Well, that certainly puts a spin on things.

Maybe old man Baron found out about the two of them,

got into a fight with his son's lover, and...

Not your business.

Not my business.

Says the man who climbed up a tree.

I was just... curious, is all.

Anything else that's piqued your curiosity, Vicar?

Not really.

Well, unless you count Rachel planting a big old kiss on me.

I love Jamie.

Does he love you?

Yes.

Absolutely, yes.

See... I'm not buying it.

Cynical, aren't you, Inspector?

Just a realist.

That, and I know you kissed the vicar.

I've been in a terrible state of confusion recently.

My father's death, and all this talk of murder.

You summoned me, darling?

Oh.

Don't let him bully you.

Well, this is all... rather mysterious.

Is it?

Take a seat. Both of you.

Does Rachel know?

About what?

Rachel intercepted one, I imagine,

thought it was for her,

and here we are...

in a right old pickle.

Why are you marrying her?

Practicality.

No-man's land is just sitting there.

And Jamie's father won't live forever.

If they marry, we could sell it.

Build on it.

Maybe your father knew about this whole tangled web.

So one of us shot him?

We were at the pub celebrating my engagement when he died.

Sorry to disappoint you, Inspector.

Perseverance is the path to new beginnings.

I'm excited about persevering with all of you

to make our village a warmer, more welcoming place.

Stirring stuff.

Very commendable.

It's already a welcoming village.

Well, I was hoping for more of a crowd.

Perhaps people are busy.

Very modern, I suppose,

to have a vicar from...

Whatever you're going to say, don't say it, Mrs C.

I was only going to say from the Empire.

I'm from Romford, actually.

Trumpington's vicar comes from Devon.

They think they've got something to boast about.

Good Lord.

Sorry to disturb, Vicar.

Not at all.

Please.

Haven't been in here for nigh on 50 years.

Now twice in as many days.

There's hope for him yet.

I'll miss him, you know.

Old man Baron.

Rather fond of him when all's said and done.

You didn't kill him, then?

You're very direct, Vicar.

No. No, I didn't kill him.

But maybe I didn't do enough.

Perhaps if I'd done more...

What more could you have done?

Can we pray for him?

Certainly.

For all whom we remember this day,

bring us all with them to your eternal joy.

Through Christ our Lord, Amen.

Walkers and the Barons.

Barons and the Walkers.

Like Romeo and Juliet.

Without anyone to root for.

They said you'd started talking to yourself.

Only sensible conversation I get nowadays.

Hmm.

I had a visit from Lionel Walker.

Anything interesting to say for himself?

I know you vicars don't like to break a confidence.

He said, "If only I'd done more..."

What? I'll break a confidence if the truth is at stake.

Say he's our killer... - Mmm-mmm. He's not.

I asked him. - Did you?

He denied it.

Well, they always deny it.

No, he said it in church.

He wasn't lying.

Because of God?

Because of God.

He does know something, though.

I'm sure of it.

Problem is,

he was in the pub with the happy couple

at the same time Baron was shot.

Which pub?

The Blue Ball.

5:00 p.m.

Post-mortem puts Baron's death at almost the same moment.

That's Grantchester time.

You have your own time now?

No, no. The landlord.

He keeps the clock an hour slow, so...

Now, any one of them could've shot him.

And then back in the pub in time for a knees-up.

Pockets.

This is an outrage.

Nevertheless, pockets.

Spying on me, were you?

No, it's not mine.

I've never seen it before.

Well, you're gonna have

a hard time convincing me of that...

Lionel Walker.

Did you go down to no-man's land

the day Old Man Baron died?

Did you confront him?

Did you shoot him with your rifle,

and try to make it look like suicide?

"If only I'd done more."

That's what you told the vicar.

What did you mean?

He said he wanted to see me.

About what? - Oh, the usual nonsense.

On the day of your son's engagement?

I don't think so.

He wanted to stop the wedding.

Why?

He had his reasons.

Two reasons.

Harvey...

and Jamie.

Baron knew about them, didn't he?

He wanted to tell you... - My son is not a pansy!

You got angry.

You took aim... - I didn't... take aim.

You're a liar!

You've always been a liar.

The wedding's off!

The wedding's going ahead! - Give me that gun!

Ah!

I didn't mean for it to happen.

I tried to stop the blood, but...

He was breathing. He was still alive.

I thought someone was coming.

Who? - I... I don't know.

I panicked.

I ran.

You thought you'd got away with murder.

So why keep this?

I... I didn't.

I... I left it there.

I'm sure I left it there.

I've arrested Lionel Walker for the murder.

Is it always that easy? - Sometimes you get lucky.

Thanks for your help, Alphy. - Anytime, Geordie.

Really?

Why not?

Because we're all morally bankrupt, power-hungry thugs?

Ha, you see, it sounds so judgemental

when you say it.

Uh-oh.

What? - It's the wife.

Esme's not come home.

That's the daughter.

It's only eight o'clock.

She said she'd be back hours ago.

She could be dead in a ditch.

The well-known ditches of Cambridge?

I'll help you look, if you like.

Thank you.

Cathy, go home, get some rest.

Run a bath or something.

I'll get my coat.

So, you're the new one, are you?

Uh...

Why a vicar?

Why a police officer?

I asked first.

Apart from the whole believing in God bit?

Apart from that.

"No one is useless in this world

who lightens the burden of another."

Who said that? Jesus?

Huh. - Dickens.

The dog?

No, not the dog.

Huh. - I like finding people answers.

Helping them find peace.

Huh.

Not too different what we do.

Less hymn singing in my job.

Shame. It's the best bit.

I can't even understand it.

Oh, really?

Yeah. It's such a nightmare.

Bingo.

Yeah, it's great.

Dad!

Home.

I'll see you guys on Monday.

This is so humiliating.

Just be glad your mother isn't here.

You could've been dead.

But she wasn't, so...

You're such a drag, Mum.

A drag?

A drag!

Respect your elders, Esme Keating.

Oh!

Esme!

I can't stand her being in this house any more.

I think we're slipping off topic here.

You are a rude, disrespectful little minx.

Don't speak to her like that!

Well, someone has to.

Maybe we should do this

when tempers are a little less frayed.

Neither of you keep her in line.

Out! Get out!

Gladly. Your children are a lost cause.

Keep the mop, and try using it.

Your floors are a disgrace.

Fine! - Fine!

Such a drag.

Well, she's gone now, so...

I'm not talking about Mrs C.

Your old lady is such a downer.

Where are you getting all these words from?

I have a few questions.

What, why we're here? What's the meaning of life?

Why did Lionel leave Bert to die?

Why not run for help? Call an ambulance?

Why leave the scene?

Because someone else was coming?

Someone he thought would help? But who was that someone else,

and why didn't they try to help Bert?

Why didn't they call an ambulance?

And why did Lionel keep the hankie?

A bloody hankie,

one which incriminates him with a murder he'd got away with?

That's a lot of questions.

I haven't got to the best one yet.

Why does Rachel, minutes after her dad was shot,

have a hankie in her pocket?

You went to find your father,

down on no-man's land, didn't you?

You saw them fighting.

The rifle going off.

You saw Lionel trying to stem the bleeding.

You saw him run.

I was celebrating the happiest day of my life.

You're lying.

They didn't find Dad till hours later.

He was already dead.

She's lying.

Why keep the hankie?

I've never seen it before.

For insurance maybe?

And keeping it paid off.

You planted it on Lionel when we started nosing around.

When exactly am I supposed to have done all this?

And that's what I wondered.

Until I remembered the set-to in the vicarage.

What did you say?

Harvey! - All right!

Back in your corners!

Why plant evidence

unless you're guilty?

I've just lost my father.

Your dad went to no-man's land.

He told Lionel Jamie didn't love you,

he loved Harvey.

It's lies. - Everyone knew.

Even you.

No.

You knew.

It's sordid, nasty gossip.

Your dad was going to stop the wedding.

He wanted it all out in the open.

And you couldn't have that.

Help me...

So you sat with your dad...

Help me.

...and you watched him die.

Then you went to your engagement party

and celebrated.

What kind of monster does that?

The kind who plants evidence,

the kind who kisses a vicar looking for comfort,

the kind who can't face the truth.

You will go to prison for this, Rachel.

Do you believe in God? - Of course.

Lie to us, fine.

Lie to yourself, by all means, but lie to God?

He sees everything, Rachel.

He already knows. He knows what you've done.

And he has no mercy for liars.

Jamie's my fiance.

We'll marry, and we'll have children...

and we'll be happy.

And then it will be over,

all the stupid arguments,

all the incessant fighting and backstabbing.

So, yes, I let him die

so that I can have some peace.

I just wanted some peace, really.

I want to thank you,

each and every one of you,

for the warm welcome you've extended to me.

It's hard coming to a new place,

away from everyone and everything you know.

But you've embraced me with such generosity.

Such warmth.

That's made my first days here a real joy.

I haven't had the good fortune to meet all of you yet,

so I thought, as we're all here,

why not make the most of it?

Hi, Reverend Alphy Kottaram. Lovely to meet you.

Good to see you, Jack.

Mrs C.

Leonard, how are we?

I've never seen them squirm so much, it's wonderful.

Hi, Reverend Alphy Kottaram. Pleased to meet you.

Couldn't buy you a pint, could I?

Thank you.

I hear you have a thing for vicars.

Who said that? - Everyone.

I don't have a "thing".

I just happen to have, in the past,

been friendly with a few vicars.

Vicars, plural?

Two.

OK. No, I'd say that's definitely a "thing".

So...

So, what's your secret, Alphy?

What's my secret? - Mmm.

Love child, hmm? Tragic past?

The vicars I've known, they've all had something.

Spill the beans. - Well...

OK.

My dad's an accountant.

Mum's a housewife.

I'm pretty good at football,

terrible at maths, and...

That's about it.

That's it?

That's everything?

Well, I'm pretty content with my lot, to be honest.

What? I'm a glass half-full kinda guy.

You look disappointed.

I am a bit.

Do you need someone to save?

That's your remit, Vicar.

Thank you. - Thank you.

We could just talk about the football, you know.

Women?

We can talk about women if you like, yeah.

Do you wanna talk about women?

Not the ones in my family.

No, fair enough.

Game on the wireless was good last night.

Ah, Leicester-Tottenham? - Hmm.

Ah, belter of a game.

Definitely not a penalty.