Original subtitles

"The modern woman finds herself

at the dawn of a new era.

She can now enter the world of work.

But how does she know she is ready

to put herself to good use?

She would do well to ask herself these questions.

Do you greet the men you work for

with a winning yet chaste smile?

Do you put the needs of others before your own?

Do you complete tasks without expectation of praise?

If yes, then you are ready to join Harrison & Sons!

Far East fabrics! British excellence!"

Old man Harrison and his sodding rules.

What a load of tosh!

Doesn't mention a thing about creepy Malcolm.

Or getting goosed every time you make a cup of tea.

What's a "winning but chaste smile"?

How about...

No, wait, wait. Is it...

Cathy!

Hello, love. What's so funny?

Nothing.

You remember Mae from the office.

Oh, I remember Mae.

Mr K, nice tie.

Brings out your eyes.

Hello, love.

Hello, Cathy.

What's with the Cathy?

Mmm, I'm starving. Don't mind, do you?

Bit late if I did.

Well, this is nice.

Yeah.

Shall I put the kettle on?

No, we're not stopping.

I'll bring the whites next week.

Thanks ever so, Mrs K, so good of you.

Well, she's a bit.

A bit?

You have Bible study at...

3:00. I know.

Parish council at...

Let me guess, 4:00?

And then we need to find you a wife.

Is that before or after Bible study?

The bishop is very particular about his doilies.

No one cares about doilies.

If you want me to sit in... - No, I don't.

I don't mind. - No, I do! I mind!

My Lord.

Erm, good to see you again, Mrs, erm...

Ah! Mr Kottaram. How are we?

Fantastic, thank you. Please.

No!

Told you!

I never thought I'd say this, but...

I now know everything there is to know

about black mould.

A real page turner.

I think I can save us a few thousand

doing some of the work on the church myself.

Excellent.

I'm sensing a "but"...

You're running before you can walk.

But if we're looking to save money.

But in these times of change,

we need to find ways to consolidate.

Consolidate?

A congregation here, never more than 30.

The church at Newnham barely full beyond the first rows.

Well, I'm sure you can gather my meaning.

I'm not sure I do.

We're merging the two,

winding this church down.

It's for the best.

This congregation will be served by Newnham's vicar.

Have you met him?

David. - Mmm.

Lovely chap.

So, erm...

I'm sorry,

what does this mean for me?

You'll caretake for a few months.

And then?

We'll ponder that when we're closer to the time, shall we?

God calls us where we're meant to be, Mr Kottaram.

Sometimes we don't have a choice in the matter.

Now, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

I don't bite.

Here's my card.

Thank you so much, gentlemen. - Nice meeting you.

I look forward to doing business with you.

Of course, thank you.

Hey. New girl.

Nice top. - Thank you.

Maybe I could talk you out of it later.

Good morning, gals.

Morning, Mr Harrison.

Have they had my amended rules?

They've read them with great excitement, Mr Harrison.

Remember, gals...

winning smiles.

Yes, Mr Harrison.

Wonderful hospitality as usual, Mrs, er...

I made my Bakewell especially.

Yeah, well done, you.

It really is for the best, Mr Kottaram.

Well?

I tried listening, but you don't half mumble.

You'd do well to be a bit more like him.

Polite, refined,

answers questions when he's asked them.

He doesn't even remember your name, Mrs C.

Get Mae for me, would you, Miss Keating?

Yes, Miss Cheadle.

Miss Cheadle wants you.

Tell the Cheadle she's otherwise engaged.

Malcolm.

You're not frightened of ghosts, are you, new girl?

Oh, leave her be.

Listen...

You can hear her sometimes,

weeping and wailing.

"Be gentle with her, Iris."

She always picks on the pretty ones.

What's the emergency?

Ah, Geordie.

I think I've lost my job.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I have, so... Cheers.

♪ For she is A jolly good fellow! ♪

♪ And so say all of us

All right, boys. Time for the bumps.

Malcolm, no!

Don't encourage 'em, there's a good girl.

Sorry, Mr Harrison.

Good, good. Nineteen years old.

Barely remember what that was like.

But look at you, whole life ahead of you.

You'll make some chap a very lovely wife one day.

All right, five minutes, then back to it.

All right, boys.

Have at her!

One, two, three...

Miss Cheadle! Send in the birthday girl.

Miss Keating. Fetch Mae, would you?

Yes, Miss Cheadle.

Mae? Are you in there?

Mmm-hmm.

Knew it would rear its ugly head eventually.

Never known a vicar without a wayward streak.

No vicar in Grantchester. It's just...

I can't believe he's doing that.

Bastard.

Now, now, he's a man of God.

Absolute bastard. - Mmm.

Why bring me here if he knew there was no job? Why lie to me?

Welcome to my world. - It's what they do. Lie.

If it's not criminals, it's daughters.

Lie to their own mothers if it got them further up the ladder.

What the hell do I do?

Pub? - Pub.

Hold that thought.

I'm not in the best of moods, Geordie.

Neither am I.

If it's not the wife, it's the eldest.

It's Miss Scott.

It's women in general, really.

Betrayed you, did they? The Church?

Sorry, I, er...

I couldn't help overhearing.

Betrayed is a strong word.

Mmm, it's apt, though.

It's what they do, isn't it?

If you don't quite fit in, if you're not quite one of 'em.

There's a body at Harrison's.

Esme works there.

Where's the body?

It's that way, up there.

What d'you think's happened? - Hmm.

Swollen eyes.

Mouth.

Allergic reaction, maybe.

Esme...

Sweetheart.

I'm so sorry.

Mae doesn't have her bag.

She doesn't go anywhere without her bag.

Come on.

They can't know you're my dad.

None of us are sure what to do, Officer.

Well, if you wouldn't mind waiting,

we'll take your statement shortly.

Thank you.

Come along, darling.

Larry!

Get this bagged.

Caterpillars.

Did he tell you? - Oh!

This is my quiet time, Mrs C.

He did, didn't he?

Context. Context is always useful.

There is something afoot with Alphy and the bishop.

Ah.

So he did tell you?

And I don't feel comfortable breaking that trust.

He's a gambler, isn't he?

He looks like a gambler.

What does a gambler look like?

Is it women? Is it men?

You're such a... - Such a what?

You'll end up falling out with everyone

if you carry on like this.

I don't fall out with people.

Cathy. Geordie. Esme...

I just want to know what's happening under my own roof.

It isn't your roof, though, is it?

It's Alphy's roof, and Alphy's conversation,

and Alphy will tell you when he's ready.

He's definitely a gambler.

Where is he?

Out. Can I help?

Tell him his daughter is having sex.

His wife is having kittens.

So he should spruce up a cell

cos I'm about to commit murder.

You haven't heard, have you?

It's a tragedy, really.

Terrible for business.

And the girl.

And her family and friends.

Goes without saying.

Does it?

I suppose you'll want us shut for the foreseeable, will you?

We have a contract in London with a big firm.

Rather lucrative...

Poor child.

You should talk to Malcolm, my second-in-command.

She was...

one of the jollier gals.

Jollier?

Some of the secretaries could be a little po-faced,

yeah, but she...

She what?

We're all gentlemen here.

We all understand the way of the world.

Explain it to us.

The boys have a game.

The girls are either Doris Days or Marilyns.

Sounds a little reductive.

They're men, Reverend.

And what was Mae?

A Marilyn. Very much a Marilyn.

Were you and her...

I'm married. - Hmm.

Question still stands.

She was a little too "jolly" for me,

if you gather my meaning.

I liked her. I did.

But she was no innocent.

I did my best to protect her.

From anyone in particular?

These young ladies are impressionable.

Often away from home for the first time.

The chaps see them as sport.

She was sport to them.

Miss Cheadle, the birthday cake.

Did you make it?

It was from Molly's Cafe, in town.

We've never had a problem before.

That poor girl.

I don't know how you handle it.

I could say the same for you.

The kids, the house, the husband.

I have to say, it never appealed.

I haven't been...

handling it lately.

I mean, me and Esme, she's...

A teenager?

The world of work,

it comes as quite a shock,

but it's mostly harmless, don't you think?

Until it isn't.

Esme's out there in that world,

and there is not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

That place, those men.

Puts me in mind of Daniel in the lion's den.

Yeah, and my little girl's lunchmeat.

Geordie, she's sensible.

She's 16 years old.

Were you sensible when you were 16?

Hmm.

Do you wanna interview her now, boss?

Just a second.

It can wait.

Promise me you won't get angry.

Angry about what?

No temper losing, no veins popping.

Angry about what?

Anything you wanna tell me?

Anything important?

It's haunted.

The store room.

Iris, her name is.

Iris the ghost.

Might wanna get her in for an interview.

Did Mae keep company with men?

I don't know.

Would you tell me if you did?

Yes.

Are you a Doris or a Marilyn, Esme?

What does that mean?

Would you go out with Mae?

To the cinema sometimes.

You go dancing? - No.

Drinking? - No!

And dallying?

It's for contraceptive pills.

What are they?

Give over, Esme.

Is it yours?

No.

Answer the question!

She said no.

They think they're so grown up.

Think they understand how it all works.

They don't understand a damn thing.

Esme didn't even know what they were.

She pretended not to know.

There's a difference.

She still believes in ghosts, Geordie.

Boss.

Mae Jenkins's medical file from Harrison's.

Page two might interest you.

Try talking to her.

Maybe in a less intimidating setting this time.

Or I can try?

I'm afraid for her, Alphy.

Dad's in a mood, isn't he?

Barely seen him out of one since I met him.

I'm sorry about your friend.

I didn't always like her.

Is that a terrible thing to say?

No.

She was so loud. It made me feel quite small sometimes.

Esme, the prescription... - It's not mine.

Was it Mae's?

They were in her handbag.

Was there a boyfriend?

I love my job so much.

The last thing I wanna do is lose it.

Who was he, Esme?

You were carrying on with Mae.

While your wife waited at home.

My marriage is rather... complex.

I'd say.

And Mae was, what, a welcome distraction?

Put it this way, Mae isn't someone

you'd introduce to your mother. - Or your wife?

Did Mae get the impression

that was on the cards?

Meeting mothers? Wedding bells?

Never promise more than you can deliver.

Did you help her get these?

Never seen them before.

Only available to married women.

Maybe you went to the doctors with her.

Popped a ring on her finger.

Mr and Mrs Smith, nice young couple.

Perhaps that's when you heard her medical history.

What medical history? - She has an allergy.

A severe allergy to almonds. - The first I've heard of it...

Where did you put them in, hmm?

Maybe the cake? - If I wanted to get rid of her,

all I had to do was give her, her notice.

Why would I bother putting almonds in a damn cake?

Just tell me the truth,

did you set me up to fail?

Why would I do that?

Because I'm dispensable.

Oh, you're being irrational now.

Why offer me the position if there was none?

Circumstances changed.

Or was I always the scapegoat?

"Indian vicar with the common accent,

yeah, he's the one that ran the church into the ground."

Yeah...

Yeah, I thought so.

As a woman of this parish and former council member...

Former being the operative word.

I deserve to have answers.

You don't work here, Mrs C.

What do you think I'm doing right now?

Nothing I asked you to do, that's for sure.

I am doing God's work.

Yeah, and I'm sure God's really grateful,

but I don't need you.

I don't need you hoovering all day,

or... or making me breakfasts so large

I'm expecting to have a heart attack at any point.

Y'know, you don't work here.

OK? And what the bishop says is none of your business.

It's gambling, isn't it?

Ah.

Yeah.

Yeah, that's it. It's gambling.

I mean what d'you wanna know, huh?

That he's getting rid of me already?

That I'm out before I even started?

Well, there you go.

Hope you're happy now.

Why are you so angry with me, Cathy?

I told you she never should have taken that job.

I tried to put my foot down. You didn't back me up.

Made me look like the bad one.

You have no idea what happens in places like that.

With men like that.

Brushing too close to her, following her home.

Not every man is a potential murderer, Cathy.

Show me.

Show me which ones are and which ones aren't.

You're jumping at every shadow.

You're starting to sound like your mother!

You're keen.

Hmm, how do you think the filing gets done?

Filing fairy?

They're called women.

Those fairies that make your tea

and darn your socks, they're called women.

Spoke to the bakery. Guess who ordered the cake?

Miss Cheadle. - Nope.

Nope? - It was a bloke.

Shop girl was a complete dunce, but she was sure it was a man.

Evening.

Hiding, are you?

Yup. You?

Mrs C.

She irons my underwear.

Why does she do that?

Why don't you do that?

I've done some digging. - Another ghost?

Another dead girl, used to work at Harrison's.

Jane Goldman, 18 years old.

Died of a botched abortion.

Abortion? Open verdict.

What's the betting one of the Harrison boys

got her in the family way and goodbye Jane?

Could be coincidence.

Or it's all connected.

Hard to tell.

Unless you send someone in.

Someone with excellent clerical skills

and a brisk yet perky demeanour.

Mmm-mmm.

They're already advertising.

No. - No way.

One of those girls knows something.

I could get her talking.

It's not a bad idea.

She's a civilian.

It's too dangerous.

You do it. - I would,

but they've met me. - No.

No!

Just a thought. In any event,

I'm on leave from tomorrow, so I guess my time is my own.

"Do you dress impeccably?"

"Do you refrain from showing off

how much you know?

Do you avoid 'bossing' the men who manage you?"

Can I stop you there, Miss Cheadle?

Of course, please.

I've worked since I was 16.

I know how to manage men

without making them feel managed.

Congratulate them on ideas which were mine.

I know how to deflect the gropes and the comments.

And your filing?

Second to none.

Then welcome to Harrison's.

I think this is the beginning

of something rather wonderful, don't you?

I'm on strike.

OK.

Well, d'you wanna tell me why?

Because you were very rude.

I was very angry.

There's a difference.

Not to my ears.

So, this strike,

is it going to involve you being here?

No talking across the picket line.

Well, you couldn't, I don't know,

strike at home, maybe?

That wouldn't make my point.

And what is your point?

You need me.

No, I don't. I really, really don't.

Cathy, she needs you more than I do.

Esme, Geordie at a push.

Me, I'm self-sufficient, OK.

Just think of me as a one-man band.

I hate one-man bands.

Yeah, so do I. That is not the point.

Ink's in the second drawer.

The new girl, Mr Harrison.

Good. Good. Have you read my rules?

Most comprehensive. Thank you.

I run a tight ship. Strict, but fair.

Wouldn't you agree, Miss Cheadle?

Exceedingly.

All sundry expenses must be passed by me.

Everything, Mr Harrison?

Watch the pennies, the pounds watch themselves.

Now, run along, you gals.

He's harmless.

So, new girl.

Tell us everything. What's your secret?

I speak Russian. Does that count?

Ah, a Bolshevik.

Fiery, are you?

Hot-blooded, passionate?

Never during office hours.

Shame.

He on the other hand...

Miss Keating, could you show Miss Scott the ropes?

Yes, Miss Cheadle.

Larry!

What happened to you?

Nobody knows how to work the tea urn.

We have a tea urn?

Yeah, news to me too.

What d'you need, boss? - You don't know where

the Jane Goldman file is, do you?

No one knows where anything is. It's chaos out there.

What happened to him? - Hmm.

Oh, he was born, and now here we are.

Jane Goldman. The botched abortion.

I was thinking, too much gin, hot bath.

And trip down the stairs? - Exactly,

but... Ah!

She paid for it.

Harley Street doctor.

Harley Street does abortions?

All the doctors are at it, even the posh ones.

A hundred pounds.

Not on the wages she was on.

How the hell could she afford it?

Where do accounts live?

In the store room.

Watch yourself!

Iris can be a terrible beast to the new girls.

Do they ever grow up?

"Cleaning". Again.

What where you onto, Mae?

There's a chill in here, don't you think?

Mmm. Not really. - It's Iris.

She's...

A figment of your rather trite imagination?

Drink? - No, thank you.

It might warm you up.

I think you could do with some warming up.

Miss Scott...

Perhaps I could assist you.

Thank you, Miss Cheadle.

His poor wife.

How he found one is beyond me.

So far, so normal.

Inappropriate comments.

The men drinking themselves into a coma

while the women do all the work.

Old man Harrison? - Penny pinch.

Nothing gets bought without his say-so.

So he orders the cake, poisons it with almonds,

Mae eats it.

Don't wanna burst your bubble.

Oh, go on, burst away.

Test came back on the birthday cake.

And?

No almonds.

Bugger.

You sure?

Wasn't the cake that did her in.

No, so what did?

Mae Jenkins had this in her desk.

She queried some payments.

Cleaning?

There are dozens of them over the years.

Not for the dusting, I'm guessing?

They use Batemans to clean the offices.

And those payments are simply marked

Batemans here, see?

So these "cleaning" payments...

Don't refer to actual cleaning.

Jane Goldman, when did she die?

March of '58, er, 15th.

15th of March '58.

There. "Cleaning".

Same week Jane died.

One hundred pounds.

That's exactly what she paid for the abortion.

I'll see what else I can find when everyone's gone,

but it seems like any girl his boys get into trouble,

Mr Harrison pays them off.

He's cleaning up after them.

What does that say?

I'll need my other glasses.

It says cleaning.

I'll take your word for it.

You signed off these accounts.

Barely read them.

I tend not to bother myself with trivial matters.

The company accounts are trivial?

I'm more of a figurehead these days.

Boozy lunches? Golf?

I hear you're a stickler.

Young Malcolm's more on top of things these days.

Stepping into your shoes, is he?

He's bright, ambitious.

He's getting girls in the family way

left, right and centre.

Yeah, rather that than the alternative.

Which is?

These young ladies are, erm...

worldly.

They're looking for husbands.

Do anything to entrap a man.

Chap has to protect himself.

It's not the men who are dying, Mr Harrison.

Boss. - Hmm?

It's with regards to our colleague

and her annual leave.

Miss Scott? - Ask him about Iris.

The ghost?

Before she was a ghost, she was a girl.

Died ten years ago. An accident, open verdict,

but her body was found in...

In the store room?

The store room.

Iris Buchanan.

She worked for you.

She died on your premises.

That jog any memories?

It was carbon monoxide poisoning, faulty chimney.

When did she die?

November '51.

November '51.

Cleaning.

One hundred pounds.

Yes, it was a gift to her family.

Funeral expenses.

The least we could do in the circumstances.

So you did know about this particular payment?

Iris was a... a lovely young thing

who died in, in very unfortunate,

very unfortunate circumstances.

Deemed an accident by your colleagues, Inspector.

Working-class girls, with no status. Hmm?

Easy to get rid of.

A dodgy chimney here, backstreet abortion there.

Unrelated incidents.

Scant motive.

Well, look... unless you are going to charge me,

er, perhaps one of your gals could call me a taxi.

Strike over?

I can't ignore dust this thick.

I'm not an animal.

I'm sorry.

I was rude and snappy,

and... - Hurtful?

It's no excuse, but...

I had no one to turn to so...

I took it out on you and that was unforgivable.

You not a hugger?

I could be persuaded.

If the occasion warrants it.

Thank you, Mrs C.

You had me to turn to.

I don't want you to leave, none of us do,

and I know you think I'm just a silly woman.

I don't think that.

Just another old biddy wittering on about jumble sales.

But we're the ones who keep the parish going.

Organising everything for you.

Cleaning up afterwards.

No money and no thanks.

But you do it anyway. Why?

Cos it makes us feel...

Worthwhile?

It makes us feel seen.

When most of the time no one sees us at all.

Cleaning. Why cleaning, huh?

It's an interesting choice of word, don't you think?

I mean, it's... it's almost biblical.

And he's off...

It's about so much more than getting rid of mess, y'know.

Actually, no, no, no, no, maybe it's just that.

Someone was getting rid of the mess,

someone who'd been there for years.

Someone Mr Harrison could trust.

What if Mae was getting too close to the truth?

Drink?

It might warm you up.

Tests came back on the birthday cake.

No almonds.

You put it in her contraceptives.

The ones you helped her get.

I had a feeling you were too clever for this place.

Made you feel important, I imagine.

Cleaning up after the men.

They didn't even notice you were doing it, did they?

Are you a police officer?

Just a plain old secretary.

Ah, makes sense, I suppose.

The girls are dispensable, are they?

You block a chimney, send them to a dodgy doctor.

Some almond essence, maybe.

Mr Harrison expects a tight ship.

He'd thank me if he knew. - Would he?

If I wasn't here, everything would fall apart.

I keep my office running,

even I know I'm completely dispensable.

He needs me.

You'll be gone soon.

There'll be another girl at your desk.

He won't even remember your name.

I'm important. I am.

Mr Harrison always says it.

Oh, sweetheart.

You really believe that, don't you?

Oh, you took your time.

Thank you, Miss Scott.

If you'd come with me, Miss Cheadle.

I can't. I can't leave!

Yes, you can, you're under arrest.

But I have work to do. There's so much work to do.

I've... I've got work to do!

What can I do for you, Mrs Keating?

I don't know really. Erm...

I just don't feel myself.

Can you be a bit more specific?

I'm prone to bouts of, er,

being cross with the children apparently,

but it's more a case of,

I feel one thing, then...

completely the opposite, and, erm...

Irrational thoughts, mood swings, suicidal?

I feel weepy, which is not like me and, erm...

How's the sleep?

Oh, it's dreadful.

I'm tired all day,

and then I can't sleep at night, and, erm...

Perhaps find time to go for a walk

or read something comforting. - Ha.

I've barely have time to go to the lavatory.

The washing alone is...

Mother around to help out?

No.

Take these once a day.

Mood stabilisers.

Can't have you losing your temper

with the little ones, can we?

No.

Come back in four weeks.

Let's see if things have settled down.

Sylvia.

Don't take this the wrong way, but...

Can't promise that. I've been taking things

the wrong way since before the war.

You're the last person I expected to see.

Then aren't you lucky that I'm such a persistent friend.

I feel like I can't win.

Give her her freedom, they say.

Cut the apron strings. Don't cling on.

But as soon as it goes wrong, it's...

The mother who's to blame.

So what do I do?

Do I let her go out there...

this... small girl who I

taught to read...

taught to swim, with my hand under her belly?

Yes. That's exactly what you do.

I wanna be with her every step of the way.

But I can't, can I?

No one can.

And if you try, you'll drive yourself round the twist.

Maybe I'm already round it.

I don't wanna end up like her.

Who?

My mother.

You're not mad, Cathy Keating.

You're a woman.

Trying to get by in a world that isn't made for us.

That's cold and brutal.

And now you know Esme is old enough to see it too...

And just like you did when she was swimming,

you moved your hand away

and told her how well she was doing.

You let her go.

Thought you might like some company,

Iris and all that.

I'm not afraid of her.

Glad to hear it.

Good night, ladies.

Real life is much more scary.

I've thought about punching him a few times.

Only a few? Goodness, you are doing well.

To men.

I'm kidding. To us.

To us.

So, tell me all about...