All language subtitles for Father Brown (2013) - 07x02 - The Passing Bell.KOMPOST.English.edit.Addic7ed.com

If anyone thinks bell-ringing
is easy,

they should come over here
and sniff my armpits.

Thank you for that, Miss Thundersby.

Are you all right, my dear?

Yeah, just a little achy
in the upper arm.

Well, allow me to escort you
ladies to the Red Lion.

I don't think so.

I'm sorry? I have a number of notes
on this evening's performance.

Oh, piggy, Mervyn! We've been
ringing for three-and-a-half hours.

Indeed. And it was three-and-a-half
hours of schoolboy errors.

Hello! Am I interrupting anything?

No. No!

May I introduce
Mr Jamie Cheeseman.

Mr Cheeseman has been appointed by
Canon Fox to be Director of Music

for the diocese, and he's very keen
to work with you.

That's right.

I've always been fascinated
by campanology.

We do not approve of the word
"campanology".

A mongrel word, combining,
as it does, the Latin for

bell - "campana" - with the Greek
for study - "ology".

We are change-ringers,
and proud of it.

Mr Glossop is tower captain.

And as there can only be one
captain of the ship,

I respectfully ask you to leave.

Actually, I think that's
somewhat disrespectful.

Do you, indeed?

I really do admire what
you're doing here.

Your admiration is not reciprocated.

Please, I've got some hand-bells.

I do hope you will be very happy
with your little bells.

But our bells have hung
for over 500 years.

They announce historic occasions,
the outbreak of war,

and sometimes, even funerals.

Sorry, was that a threat?
Not a threat, Mr Cheeseman.

A prophecy.

Is he always like that?

Mr Glossop can be somewhat
temperamental.

50% temper and 50% mental.

Of course, as well as restoring the
bells, it's important

to restore harmony to the ringing
chamber.

And that would be best achieved by
judicious use of flattery.

Two halves, please, Raymond.

So, once again, a musical director
has been foisted on us.

They soon find they know
considerably less than I do.

The previous one lasted three weeks.

Let's hope Mr Cheese-man
will depart somewhat sooner.

Well, I, um...

Spit it out, Phoebe.

Would it be so bad to give him a go?

I mean, he might be rather good.

Yes. You know, young
blood and all that.

We do not need youth to instruct us

in an ancient and unchanging
art form.

I have been ringing these
bells for 42 years.

Do you mind if we join you?

Oh, please do.

I know that we didn't get off to
the best of starts,

and it's always awkward when a new
boy comes along...

..but...

..I'd love to work with you

and bring St Marys' ringers
to new and dizzying heights.

Mr Cheeseman, we already
have a working method,

honed and refined
over several decades.

If you like,
I will write to Canon Fox,

and explain that your services
are not required.

Well, I could actually save
you the stamp.

Canon Fox is my uncle.

But, really, I don't want to do
anything drastic.

You're already an extremely
accomplished group.

But it struck me the bells
themselves are less than perfect.

They're just a bit rusty.

So I thought -
why not have a fundraiser?

So that we could take them
to the foundry,

have them re-tuned and re-hanged,

and then they will make a sound
that's worthy

of such a magnificent band
of ringers.

Canon Fox's nephew?!

Indeed.

No mystery then to how he got such a
prestigious position...

He is, apparently, a very talented
composer who has worked with

the London Opera Company.

But if he's Canon Fox's nephew,
he's bound to be a bit of a drip.

On the contrary, he seems very
lively and full of ideas.

Full of ideas? And who has to do
the donkey work?

Me.

Enoch! Hello!

Good morning, nice to see you.
How may I be of assistance?

Well, we have to... I have to do
some baking for this fund-raiser,

and I'm in need of two dozen eggs.

Ah, well, you are in luck, as all
of our ladies have been laying.

Oh, well, isn't that marvellous.

Hello! Hello!

Gosh, it's a small world.

Mr Jamie Cheeseman.

Mrs McCarthy, our parish secretary.

How do you do? And Bunty Windermere.

Hello. Welcome to our village.

Thank you.

Though I actually came to see Enoch.

Oh. Oh, yes?

Yes. A trunkload of my possessions
has just arrived from London,

and I find I have rather a large
collection of gospel records.

Now, I don't know if that's your
sort of music,

but you're more than welcome
to borrow them.

I love gospel! I used to be
in a choir in Trinidad.

Yes. Phoebe said you enjoyed the
singing,

and I wondered if we could use
you at the fete.

In what way?

Well, I also write songs, and I was
thinking, as well as a bell-ringing

performance, we could perhaps hear
you sing one of my compositions.

Oh. Well, that would be an honour!

Let me have a look at your
collection.

Well, I take back what I said.

He does have a certain
je ne sais quoi.

Well, I don't know about your
"je ne sais quoi",

but I suppose the bell-ringers
could do with someone

with a bit of enthusiasm.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

# Ring that bell

# From the top of the tower

# Ring that bell

# In your desperate hour

# Ring that bell

# To appeal to his power

♪ Ring that bell... ♪

It's a bit Like having Paul Robeson
in your own living room.

# When the darkness is near

# Ring that bell

# And you're drowning in fear

# Ring that bell

# So the saviour will hear

♪ Ring that bell! Ring that bell! ♪

Mr Cheeseman.

Hello.

I have been perusing this
so-called composition

you wish us to
perform at the fete.

Oh, yes? It appears to be false.

In course one, the treble changes
place with bell two.

And in the third course,
you make the same change again.

Can someone translate
that into English?

Under the rules of change-ringing,
you must never repeat a change.

Rules are there for a reason.

But since you seem incapable of
obeying them, I suggest you

take your technically-deficient
composition back to London.

Mr Glossop.

Although we are thankful for the
work you have done in the past,

if you find it so difficult
to accept new members,

perhaps it is you who should
be leaving.

This man is the viper in the nest.

He is destroying our group.

And unless we stand up to him,
he will destroy us all.

Please, Mervyn. He's not trying to
destroy us.

We rather like him. Do you indeed?

Well, I wonder...

..would he feel the same if he knew
what I knew?

Phoebe.

Or should that be Fibby?

Because who could believe a word
that comes from your angelic lips?

And Enoch.

So kind.

So caring.

So lucky they never sent
you to prison.

And Ruth...

..you sing from the heart.

But what a sordid,
squalid cesspit of a heart.

I'm so looking forward to your fete.

Testing...

Testing.

Ruthy? What? When we do our song,
shall we stand together,

cheek to cheek, like this?
Oh, I don't think so.

What?

Well, not so close that we're
sharing mascara.

Cream horn, anyone?

Thank you kindly! It's hungry work
doing backing vocals.

Has anyone seen Jamie? He wandered
off a few minutes ago,

just to see some stalls.

Well, if anyone sees him, tell him
I've got something sweet for him.

We will! You've no idea what a joy
he's been to work with.

After all those years with Mervyn.

Who was always a bit of a
wet blanket.

Oh, Enoch, that's so unfair...

..to wet blankets.

Wet blanket? I gave you years.

Oh, Mervyn, we didn't mean it, we...
Years!

We're just a bit nervous.

Oh, look, a microphone.

Hopefully there'll be quite a crowd
here at one o'clock.

I will get it next time.

You've been saying that these
past six goes.

Still,
all the more money for the bells.

Ding dong!

Are you busy?

Mervyn Glossop is about, and I think
he's planning to make a scene.

Right, we should warn Jamie.

I'll have three more goes, please.

Oh, dear.

I'll have ten more.

Oh, last of the big spenders!

Bunty! Sorry, I really do want to
win this.

We've come to warn you,
Mervyn Glossop is here.

And he's not exactly a little
ray of sunshine.

Oh, dear.

I've won!

I've won!

Aw! Is that for me?

What?

I was joking!

Of course.

I'll keep an eye out for Mervyn.
I must get to the church.

What is a bell?

For some it is a call to prayer.

For others, merely an irritation
on a Sunday morning.

Our bells have been here
500 years,

having a conversation with God.

And today, we have invited you here
to see how it's done.

Thank you, Mr Cheeseman.

Look to.

The treble is going.

Gone.

Oh, heavens!

Erm, I'm most terribly sorry.
One moment, please.

Well, it must have been
an old rope.

Hello?

Sabotage! I bet it was Mervyn.

When I get hold of him, I'm going to
grab him by the throat, and...

Oh, piggy! Let me help you.

Sorry...

..is...is that blood?

Thank you, Constable.

So, Padre.

This time the Grim Reaper
came right to your doorstep.

Indeed.

I've never seen a dead body before.

I don't think I'll be able
to sleep tonight.

He is in eternal sleep.

Perhaps now he will finally
find peace.

Oh, Lordy.

Oh, cripes.

Oh, my Great Aunt Fanny.

What is it? So...

..where did you
go just before we started ringing?

You know where I was.

I went to the belfry
to grease the gudgeons.

You were gone a full half-hour.

Yes, well, I don't like
to rush these things.

Where were you?

No sign of a murder weapon, sir.

Well, it must be somewhere
on church grounds.

There's no way our killer
wandered through the crowds

with a blood-stained dagger
in his hand.

I have rather a lot of
bell-ringers to talk to.

Greasing the gudgeons, you say?

That's right.

And I put some oil on the
pulley-axle.

Did you hear anything from
the chamber beneath you?

Oh, I wasn't there the whole time.

I did also nip to the sacristy.

Where Father Brown keeps his
cassocks and whatnot.

And I went in to wash my hands.

And then I went to the
ringing chamber.

And then we all went upstairs...

..and saw...

So, Mervyn Glossop.

Would you say he had any enemies?

I had nothing against him.

We just had certain
musical differences.

He described you as "a viper in the
nest who was going to destroy

"all the bell-ringers".

People say these things in the
heat of the moment.

Can you account for your whereabouts
in the hour leading up to

this grim discovery?

I went round all the stalls.

I won a teddy bear.

And then I came into the church...

..just to make sure that no
members of the public wandered in

when we were getting ready.

So you would have been somewhere
near the entrance?

That's right.

So who was in the bell-tower?

I was on the ground floor of the
tower, just getting my

thoughts together, and praying,
but I didn't hear anything.

A surprising number of your
colleagues failed to hear anything.

Must be spending so much time
with those bells.

Yes. Now, we're going to have to
take everybody's fingerprints,

though I notice you're wearing
gloves.

That's right.

Can you take them off, please?

Mrs Sims!

Of course.

I don't very often
take them off, because,

well...

..just before he was arrested last
year, my husband gave me a little...

..present.

He often used to hurt me,
when I stood up to him.

And on this occasion,
he put my hands in a hot chip pan.

I am so sorry.

Don't apologise!

I have to put wool fat on them,

and I use the gloves
as a kind of bandage.

It can be quite painful,
ringing a bell,

but at least now
I'm in control of the pain.

And I am a shy person...

..but I like to think that
the treble bell is my voice...

..and it rings out across the
hills, all the way to HMP Wynchurch,

where he's rotting in his cell!

And it says to him...

.."You did not beat me.

"I am still here."

So...

..if you were on the ground floor,
praying,

who would have been above you?

No, I was not.

I knew Miss Thundersby was checking
the bells, so I left it to her.

And where exactly were you?

I went to the sacristy for some
peace and quiet,

and then I went straight from there
to the ringing chamber.

The sacristy?
And was anyone there with you?

No, I was alone the whole time.

We believe Mr Glossop was stabbed in
the heart with a large blade.

You are a farmer, are you not?

I am a farm labourer,
though it is not my farm.

Nevertheless, you must have access
to lots of sharp implements -

scythes and sickles and so forth.

No, I do not!
This is the 20th century.

I use a tractor.

Calm down, Mr Rowe.
I'm only asking a simple question.

So, who was the last person
to see him alive?

That would have been his murderer.

I meant before that!
Well, it was me, actually.

The bell-ringers were getting
ready,

and he made some odd remarks
to them, pointing out that they

had a microphone, and that he hoped
they'd get a good crowd.

Mr Glossop was a keen
collector of secrets.

He made it clear that he knew
certain things

about his fellow ringers.

He might have been about
to reveal them.

Did Mr Glossop take his secrets
to the grave with him,

or did he perhaps keep a diary?

Sorry, ma'am, I can't let you in.

Looks like the boys in blue
have beaten us to it.

And the girls, too.

Mervyn was a dear friend of mine,

he wouldn't want lots of
strangers trampling round his house.

Someone wants to get her gloves
on Mervyn's secrets.

Mrs Sims was very keen to know
Miss Thundersby's whereabouts.

I get the impression
each suspects the other.

Hello, Father!
Morning, Sergeant.

We've just made an arrest.

And as he's a parishioner,
I thought you might want a word.

Excuse me.

Ah, Padre! Come to offer some crumbs
of comfort to our killer?

Are you sure you have
the right man, Inspector?

Undoubtedly.

Having failed to find the murder
weapon at the church,

we took our metal detectors
to Tatton Farm.

And there, buried in the yard,
was a blood-stained sickle.

Even if this sickle
IS the murder weapon

how do you know who buried it?

It was found at
Enoch Rowe's place of work!

And now it is in
this police station.

So presumably you'll be arresting
Sergeant Goodfellow?

On your feet please, sir.

I'll be right outside
if you need me, Father.

Thank you, Sergeant. Oh!

Have you come to read the
last rites?

I've come to help in any way I can.

Did you kill Mervyn Glossop?

I am not a murderer!

Although I am fairly sure
that I will hang for it.

What makes you say that?

Inspector Mallory
has made up his mind.

Oh...

He found an old shirt of mine,
with blood on it.

My own blood, from a nosebleed,
but what does he care?

The Inspector
sometimes comes to a conclusion,

and then looks
for evidence to support it.

When I was growing up in Trinidad,
my teachers used to say

there are three people you can
always trust -

The good Lord, your mother,
and a policeman.

Yes, well,
two out of three isn't bad.

And then,

when I come to England,

I lived in a room with
six other West Indians.

And if any of my roommates
committed a crime, the police would

come and arrest us all, because in
their eyes, we all look the same.

That must have been
very hurtful, Mr Rowe.

I tried not to take it to heart.

I just worked hard,
kept my nose clean

and carried
on sending money home.

Your mother must be very
proud of you.

She was.

Until she passed away last year.

You have my condolences.

My mother taught me so many things.

She said, "You should always look
people in the eye,

"because the eyes
are the gateway to the soul."

Good advice.

And I will look you in the eye,
and say I will look into this,

and I will find the truth.

There you are. How is he?

I would say the fight has almost
gone out of him.

So it's up to us to do
battle on his behalf.

I came as soon as I heard.

Ah, a banana.

Yes! A banana.

The police say Mr Glossop was
stabbed to death with a sickle.

That's very hard to do
with a curved blade.

And Mr Rowe, being a practical man,
would have gone for the throat.

So it must have been
one of the others.

Yes, and they are a very
tight-knit group.

So, Bunty,
how are we going to infiltrate it?

OK, now, it's not about strength
or speed or stamina.

It's all about technique.

I see.
The bell is on a wheel.

And when you pull, you'll feel when
it's about to go off.

At which point you grab
this rope to secure it.

It's a lot more complicated
than I thought.

You'll soon develop a rhythm.

Well done!

I knew you could do it.

Bunty's done dressage, and archery -
ringing a bell must be a doddle.

OK, now, if we try
ringing a round...

OK, Phoebe, you can be treble.

Oh, jolly Dee.
Bunty, you're number two.

I'm three. And Ruth, if you take the
tenor.

But I always come after Phoebe.

I know, but sometimes
you come in a bit too quick,

and I'm keen to see if we can get
our timings right.

Treble. Look too,
The treble is going - gone.

Two.

Three.

I'll go and have a word.

Do you have a particular
grievance with the angels?

I'm sorry, Father.

It's just all been a bit fraught,
with all this death and whatnot.

I noticed you were especially upset
when your friend

began to praise Miss Windermere.

It can be hard, when someone we have
feelings for

makes a fuss of someone else.

Feelings? What do you mean?

I think we both know, and I can
assure you I have no wish to judge.

Oh, Lord.

I've tried so hard to keep
it a secret,

but I suppose it's just written
all over my silly old face.

Is Mrs Sims aware of your feelings?

Oh, no. Oh, never.

No, I'd die if she knew. Why?

Well, it's wrong, isn't it?
It's in the Bible.

The Bible also says it's wrong
to wear clothes of mixed fibres.

But theologians tend to ignore that.

Oh, gosh!

It's been so hard
to keep these feelings inside.

I've read books about it
in the library,

so I know there's a name
for people like me.

I'm an invert. An unspeakable of
the Radclyffe Hall persuasion.

I'm a sister of Sappho.

Oh, who did you say your
sister was?

Perhaps you should pour Mrs McCarthy
a cup of hot, sweet tea.

I don't know what this world
is coming to.

I mean, it's against all the
laws of nature.

To be accurate, Miss Thundersby
only expressed a deep yearning.

But I know that she has tortured
herself for years,

and I see no reason to add
to her torment.

If Ruth was tormented by her...

..her tendencies, and Mervyn knew
about it,

well, that would be a very good
reason for her to...silence him.

The lab have confirmed the blood
on his shirt is not

the same blood group as Mervyn's.
We've only got one bit of evidence,

and it's highly possible
it was planted.

We have to have someone in the
cells!

We can't just brush it under
the carpet.

The funeral's tomorrow.

I say we let Enoch go,
under observation.

You never know, sir -
he might do something rash.

Or he could even lead us
to the real killer.

Anima eius, et animae
omnium fidelium defunctorum,

per misericordiam Dei
requiescant in pace.

ALL: Amen.

I'm so pleased you could come.

We know you had nothing to do with
that awful business.

I'm not sure everyone knows that.

Enoch, how, are you?

Not good. I can feel people's eyes
burning into me.

Well, if you ever need to escape,

you're always welcome at the
presbytery. Thank you, Father.

I must say hello to Mervyn's aunt.
Of course.

I am so sorry for your loss.

Thank you for...
Thank you, that's very kind.

Well, I do hope a few more souls
turn up at my funeral.

Most of these are police.

Good. Hopefully they've all
left Mr Glossop's house.

3.5 seconds.

Oh, there's an awfully musty
smell in here!

It's as though no-one's opened
a window in here for 500 years.

Mr Glossop always tended
to linger in the shadows.

I didn't know
he was a theatre-goer.

The London Opera Company.

I think he procured this
for research purposes.

"Musical arrangements
by George J Cheeseman."

That's got to be Jamie.

I wonder why he dropped the George?

Perhaps, like the others,
he has a secret past.

Oh, now...

This is interesting,
it's a letter to Mervyn from Phoebe.

Father?

Mr Glossop had a collection of
farming paraphernalia.

Including a sickle,
which has been removed. Hang on!

I saw Mervyn with a sack
with something in it at the fete.

Perhaps he was carrying the
instrument of his own demise.

Well done, Phoebe.

Now stay calm,
and don't make a...

Aagghh!!

Hello! What brings you here?

Um...

I just came to tidy the place.

Mervyn was very house-proud.

You didn't come to retrieve
anything?

No.

"Dear Mervyn, I am writing to beg
you to see sense.

"I know you don't get on with Jamie,
but why destroy our wonderful group?

"Of course, you could easily ruin
us, you know all our secrets."

Mr Glossop accused you of lying.

Must have been a significant
lie to ruin you.

Did this lie take place in court?

As you know, my husband was arrested
for armed robbery last year.

Get off me!

It came as a complete surprise.

Really, I had no idea.
But it was a relief.

Gotcha!
He'd done some awful things to me.

Though, when it came to court,
they asked me

had I been with him
on a certain day?

And, well...

..the answer was yes.

I'd been helping him fix the car.
Passing the spanners.

But that was the day of the robbery.

Did you lie under oath?

Oh, dear God, please forgive me!

God will forgive you,

if you truly repent.

I thought perhaps that they
had the wrong date,

but the money was found under
our bed, so it must have been him.

Do you think Mr Glossop
somehow found out you were lying?

He must have done.

But I thought he was on my side.

He was very kind to me.

Mervyn?!

Oh, yes.

The thing is - a few days after my
husband went to prison,

I received a plain brown envelope,
full of money.

It wasn't a fortune,
but enough to buy some groceries.

Was there a note attached? No.

And the money carried on coming.

And you believe
Mr Glossop was responsible?

Of course.

He lived just over the road from me.

When I asked him, he denied it.

But if it wasn't him...

..who was it?

Ruth? Possibly.

Mervyn Glossop never struck me
as the anonymous gift giving type.

So, we know Mrs Sims lied in court.

And we know that Ruth
prefers ladies to gentlemen.

What are the other secrets?
Mallory!

Padre!

Inspector. Why do I sense you are
the bearer of bad news.

This is not bad.
This is catastrophic.

Oh...

Where is Enoch Rowe?

We've just been to Tatton Farm,
and it seems that he's scarpered.

What?

He has gone into hiding.

But when I find him,

those bells won't be the only things
swinging at the end of a rope!

No sign of him.

It was an outside chance, but I
thought he might have come here to
seek sanctuary.

Where exactly did you find the body?

Here. Although the trail of blood
suggests he died here.

And that was where Miss Thundersby
tripped and fell.

Right.

THAT is the sack that Mervyn
was carrying at the fete.

And it almost certainly contained
the weapon that killed him.

He carried his own murder weapon?!

I think he also came here
to cut the bell-ropes,

thereby ruining the performance.

And someone caught him at it,
and ruined him instead.

And what about the sickle?

How did the killer get it past
the police and everyone else to

bury it on Tatton Farm?

I know exactly how they did it.

How? What if it was inside
something?

Something big and soft and fluffy.

Like a teddy bear.

Father Brown!
To what do I owe the pleasure?

I wanted to talk to all the ringers
at this difficult time.

That's very kind! Please.
Take a seat.

Sorry.

Hold on.

And I wanted to say thank you
for all the work you've done

with our ringers. You
really do have a remarkable talent.

Thank you very much.

Although I was intrigued as to
why you came to our village after

your glittering career in London.

Although that was under
another name.

George J Cheeseman.

Have you been talking to my uncle?

I have made a number of enquiries.

Then you'll know that I left London
under a dark cloud.

The thing is -
I can be a bit obsessive.

Once upon a time the obsession
was music, but last year,

I became obsessed with poker.

I played every night of the week,

and I took some money from the opera
company to pay for it.

Oh.

Uncle Raymond bailed me out.

Of course. I did wonder whether you
had an addictive personality when I

saw you trying to win that bear.

I really did want to win it.

It's for my niece, in London.

Can I have a look at him?

If you like.

Sorry? Has this got something to
do with the murder?

It had crossed my mind, yes.

But I believe this bear is innocent.

I have discovered
Mr Cheeseman's secret,

but I do not think
he would kill for it.

Oh, thank goodness.

Good day, Father.

It must all go back
to the events of last year.

Robbery. The perjury.

The mysterious gifts of money.

Mr Glossop knew all the facts,
and was about to reveal them.

Until someone stopped him.

Mr Glossop...

..was a gossip.

You could see it
in his beady little eyes.

His eyes. Yes. Yes.

Where are we going?

To see the world through
Mr Glossop's eyes.

And there's her front door.

One of us needs to
keep watch at all times.

What makes you so sure
that we're going to see anything?

Some crimes are about evil,
this one is about kindness.

Whoever's been leaving
Mrs Sims secret gifts

doesn't want to see her destitute.

So they will return.

Right, tea.

Five o'clock.

It's your turn.

If you say so.

I still think this is
a wild goose chase.

Though,
very little chasing involved.

And probably no geese.

But what do I know?

I'm just the tea lady, apparently.

Mrs McCarthy?

There is someone.

Enoch Rowe, I presume?

Father! Please! I am not safe here.

Then come with me.

Mrs McCarthy, do we have any food
left for our visitor?

Would you care for
a fish paste sandwich?

No, thank you, Mrs McCarthy.

Perhaps you could keep a
look out for the police.

Of course.

Take a seat.

Your mother gave you
very good advice -

always look into people's eyes,

for the eyes
are the gateway of the soul.

When they found Mr Glossop,
his eyes were closed.

Almost as if the killer couldn't
bear being stared at

by those judgmental eyes.

And, at the funeral,
you hugged his aunt.

You wanted to comfort her,

but were you afraid that she'd look
into your eyes and see a killer?

Why would I want to kill Mervyn?

I can think of many reasons.

The bell-ringers were a very
kind group of people,

and when they found out that one
of their number was being harmed

by her husband,
you did all you could to help.

Mr Glossop kept a scrapbook.

"On Tuesday morning, the post office
was robbed by a man wearing a

"mask, a scarf and leather gloves."

The robber was very, very careful
to conceal every inch of his skin.

And then he took the money
to Mr and Mrs Sims' house.

But I wonder how he got in, if,
as I believe, he didn't live there?

Perhaps he picked the lock,

or perhaps there
was a key under the flowerpot.

But to turn the key,
he'd have to take off his glove.

I think Mervyn saw you.

And then he saw you leaving
secret presents.

You told me you used to send money
home to your mother.

When she died,
that must have left a void.

Yes. More than words can say.

Did you have feelings for Mrs Sims?

The only thing I felt was fear.

That if I did not help,
her husband would beat her to death.

As usual, you acted
with the best of intentions.

But now Mervyn
had two secrets on you.

The day of the fete,
you went to check on the bells.

And Mervyn went to cut the ropes.

Mervyn...

Put down the sickle.

Or what will you do?
Tell your precious Phoebe

when you sneak to her house
in the wee small hours?

You're a thief and a liar!

There was a struggle.

I saw the mark on his wrist,

where you squeezed the sickle
from his hand.

It is true!

But I did not kill him.

I know you didn't.

You are calm, and thoughtful, but
Mervyn was reckless and impulsive.

You were holding the sickle,
and he ran at you to grab it.

But he tripped,
exactly where Ms Thundersby tripped.

He fell.

And the weapon was in my hand.

Who was going to believe me?

The police are here.

It is the end!

No, my friend, it is a new chapter,
and you have a choice.

You can run and
you may get away unharmed.

Or you can give yourself up,

and I will do everything I can to
make sure you have a fair hearing.

They will destroy me.

And what of Phoebe.

What will happen to her when they
find out she lied?

Mrs Sims was driven to the edge
of reason by her husband.

Now is the time for truth.

And if you run,

will you ever find peace?

Inspector!
We have a surprise for you!

Perhaps we can offer the police
some refreshments.

What's going on?

This had better not
be one of your tricks.

Hello, Inspector.
Would you like a cup of tea?

Poor Enoch. Whatever he did, I'm
sure he didn't mean to harm Mervyn.

Yes, well,
if he'd been a bit more honest,

he wouldn't be in such a scrape.
Honesty?

I think that's something we could
all use a little bit more of.

What do you mean?

Where were you,
the hour before Mervyn's death?

Well, if you must know,
I won some eau-de-cologne and...

So I just had to nip
to the sacristy

and dab a bit behind my ears.
Whatever for?

Well, you asked if we could sing
together, cheek to cheek,

and I was worried
I was just a bit whiffy.

Oh, you silly thing!

You mustn't worry about that.

We've known each other
for such a long time.

And you must know
how I feel about you.

No.

I don't know.

Oh, I was just... Mrs M!

Oh, golly!
I didn't know anyone was watching.

Forgive us for intruding, but it is
good to see you both so happy.

Isn't that right, Mrs McCarthy?

Yes. If you say so.

It's ridiculous. You're just getting
to know someone,

and then they're gone...
Penelope! Mr Cheeseman!

Everything all right?
No. Not really.

Jamie is leaving Kembleford.
PHOEBE: What?

It's true, I'm afraid.

I'm London-bound.

What does London have that we don't?

Nothing.

But I've realised I'm not
cut out for Kembleford.

Is there nothing we can do
to persuade you?

'Fraid not.

I'm on the 4.42.

Then we'll ring you on your way.

Come on, Mrs M.

What? What?

Goodbye, Jamie.

Are you sure you're leaving
at the right time?

I am.

Plus, my uncle has found me
a teaching post.

And you don't want to argue
with Uncle Raymond.

Indeed. Perhaps your work here is
done.

Thank you, Father.

No, thank you, Mr Cheeseman.

Bon voyage!