Grantchester (2014) s08e02 Episode Script

Series 8, Episode 2


When you leave here,
you'll be ready
to face the world again.
There have been complaints.

WILL: Consider the bike
(keys drop)
on holiday.
I'm not ready to go.
It wasn't a choice.
Mum's had a stroke.
You're seven months pregnant.
Stop vicaring me.

(tires squeal, man cries out)

(thunder claps)

(Will panting, running)

(motorcycle engine revving)

I need an ambulance.
Uh, uh, the road
to, to Barton.
Yeah, please hurry!

(telephone ringing)
Sir, just before you go
Uh-uh! No!
What, you're not off
till 8:00.
It is 8:00.
It's 7:50.
Uh, Swiss quartz.
Most precise timepiece
of its kind.
Accurate to within
a tenth of a second.
It's ten minutes fast.
(telephone ringing,
typewriter keys clacking)
Bloody Swiss!
Traffic accident.
never trusted them.
What nation doesn't
enjoy a nice war?
by the sounds of it.
(both sigh)
BOTH: Larry!
Traffic accident.
But it's nearly 8:00.
What can I say, Larry?
Blame the Swiss.
Bloody kids
going too fast.
It's a, uh,
what do you call it?
I don't know, boss.
Metaphor, everything
that's wrong in the world.
Eh? What happened to
taking things slowly?
Enjoying the view?
Everyone's always going
too bloody

(Geordie sniffs)
Just a sip.
For me.
Can you move it?
It's barely a scratch.
Man upstairs must be
looking out for you.
Couldn't stop.
I, I tried,
but I didn't see him, Geordie.
It's a bugger of a road.
If I had a penny for every time
there's an accident there
Morgue, boss.

Couldn't have been helped, Will.

Driving license.
John Mitchell.
Lived in Barton.
The Mirage Club.
It's the one up
near the station.
Right cesspit.
Any witnesses on the road?
Poor bloke.
Vicar must've been going
hell for leather.
Just find his next of kin,
(door creaking loudly)
(telephone calling out)
MRS. CHAPMAN (on phone):
Mrs. C, I
Will! It's Will!
Tell him I made a bread!
William Davenport,
you're in my bad books.
When's anyone ever
in your good books?
You're in the pub, aren't you?
Mrs. C, I
(on phone): I said to Jack,
that boy'll be three sheets
to the wind,
no thought for supper or a
certain young master's bedtime.
It's not bedtime yet!
We have a situation
on our hands.
Dickens has been spreading
his wild oats.
What are wild oats?
(Dickens barks)
Mrs. Foster's dog,
one with the glint in her eye.
Apparently the pups
are coming to us!
(voice breaking):
Mrs. C, Mrs. C
What's the matter?


Bloody hell.
Come on now.
What was his name?
John-- John Mitchell.
How old was he?
Did he have a family?
I don't know yet.
(voice breaking):
Please tell me he didn't
have kids.
I don't know yet, Will.

I didn't pray for him.
I, I should pray for him.
(people talking in background)
Miss Scott,
take him to my office.
on my desk Monday morning.
I suppose I should be grateful
he's here
for legitimate reasons.
It's all in hand, sir.
(clicks tongue):
78 miles an hour.
Doesn't look good, does it?
He's the same age as me.
We're the same age.
(footsteps approaching,
Mrs. C gasps)
That bloody bike!
I told him,
I told him it was trouble.
Is he hurt?
Nothing but a cut
on his hand.
Well, that's good, isn't it?
Ernie's asking
all sorts of questions.
We should tell Bonnie.
Will said don't--
he said, "Don't tell her."
Well, she's going to
find out eventually.
(door opens)
Where are you going?!
Police station.
MRS. CHAPMAN (quietly):
Will said to stay with Ernie.
I won't have him
sitting there on his own.
Geordie's with him.
He won't let anything
bad happen.
Won't let anything bad happen
to who?
Bed, Ernest Evans!
Is it Will?
Is he all right?
Of course!
Then why are you all whispering?
Well, We were just
Discussing Dickens.
Spreading his wild oats?
(Cathy chuckles)
Will's really fine?
As fine as fine can be.
Come on.
(door opens)

How fast were you going?
I don't know.
Fifty? Sixty?
I don't
I don't remember.
You're an experienced
You must have some idea.
I was, uh
I'd had a, a disagreement
with my wife,
and I, I wasn't
quite concentrating.
You weren't concentrating?
Well, the roads were quiet.
You weren't concentrating
on the road?
That's not what he said.
I know what he said,
Tell us about the man, Will.
Well, he was running.
From where?
From the verge.
He was crossing without looking?
I didn't see.
You didn't see?
It just,
it happened so quick.
So quick you barely had time
to brake.
But he did brake.
There were tire marks.
The sun was setting.
Maybe it was in your eyes.
How fast were you going,
Mr. Davenport?
My speedometer's been, um
It's been playing up
recently, so
That's convenient--
how fast?
The man was running--
he didn't look.
I'll tell you, shall I?
78 miles an hour.
Downright dangerous,
wouldn't you say, Mr. Davenport?
I'm sure a judge
would agree.
You're looking
at a decade in prison?
No, that's enough.
He's had enough.

I say when we're done.
You're making this
personal, sir.
I'm making this personal?
I know your fiancée
and Mr. Davenport had a
You're the one
making excuses for him.
A man is dead.
A man who shouldn't have
been on that road.
Mr. Davenport
said it himself.
He wasn't paying attention.
That's not what he meant.
You know what needs
to be done, Inspector.

William Davenport
I'm arresting you for causing
death by reckless driving.

(door closes loudly,
lock turning)
(birds twittering outside)

(drawer opens)
(paper rustling)
(drawer closes)

Dear Will.

I'm sorry you didn't come home
last night because
(door opens)
I have something to ask you.
I know you aren't really my dad,
but you make me breakfast
and let me ride your bike,
even if it's only pretend.

You're very kind
and grumpy sometimes.
But that's all right--
I don't mind.
You don't have to say yes,
Would you mind if I
called you Dad?
I'd like that very much.

Why was John on that road,
I don't know.
What was he running from?
I really don't know.
We went out to the Mirage.
I left him there.
Walked home on my own.
I'm not keen on him
when he's had a few too many.
I was tired.
He was drunk.
We had words.
(voice breaking):
I thought when I woke up,
he'd be home.
(sobbing quietly)
(birds twittering)
(car doors closing)

Guv said we've got
all we need.
Case is open and shut.
John was running.
The question is
from what?
My money's on the motorbike.
Mm, I meant before that,

(birds twittering)

Cambridge to Barton.
John's walking home
from the Mirage.
So what scared him off this
footpath to make him run?
Go on, then.


I'm not a betting man,
but I'd say John Mitchell
was legging it from the fella
he'd just beaten to death.
Can't know that for sure,
boss, can we?
Milton Bedwin.
He was dragged.
Ground's scuffed.
There was more than two people
here, by the looks of it.
He was at the Mirage.
Same as John and his wife--
come on.
But Guv said
If you say "Guv said"
one more time,
he won't be the only corpse
in these woods.
(birds twittering)
("Dancing the Groove"
by Brandon Combs playing)
(music continues in bar)
(music continues)
Mirage, eh?
Last place I'd want to
come across in a desert.
(music continues)
First step ♪
Lead your baby
to the dance floor ♪
Next step ♪
Police-- turn off the music.
No please?
No-- no please.
And you pull a little closer ♪
Turn your baby,
spin around now ♪
As you're twistin'
up and down ♪
Dancing the groove
is a one and a two ♪
(music stops)
What can we, uh,
help you with, ossifers?
Sorry, I mean
Oss Officers.
You'll have to excuse
my brother.
He ain't the brightest spark.
Ah, you got the
family brain cell, did ya?
(tray drops, glasses rattle)
He's, he's teasing you, Ray.
Do you know a Milton Bedwin?
Yeah, Milton's a mate of ours.
He was in last night.
What trouble has he
got himself into now?
The kind that ends up with him
and another fella
called John Mitchell dead.
You ever have trouble here?
Kids who come here,
they're grafters.
Work hard, dance hard,
drink hard.
Punch-ups are all
part of the fun.
Tell you what, though,
things have got worse
since that place opened.
One with the ex-cons.
The halfway house?
Yeah, blokes from there
come here looking for trouble.
So Milton got into a fight,
did he?
Is the pope a Catholic?
I stepped in and broke it up.
I threw Milton out.
Drunk as a lord, he was.
Who was he in here with?

My tablecloths ready?
Good as new, Ray.
This all part of
the service, is it?
Only the handsome customers.
Never know your luck.
He's Old Bill, Dot.
Inspector Keating.
I'll let you tell her.
This about Milton?
Bugger ain't turned up.
Boss is ready to blow her top--
one of the machines is out.
Milton's the only one who knows
how to fix it.
He, uh, down the nick, is he?
He was involved in a fight
at the Mirage last night.
(voice trembles):
Well, there's nothing
Milton loves more
than a scrap of a Friday night.
I'm afraid we found
Milton's body this morning.
He's dead?
When did you last see him?
Uh, I put him on the bus home
last night.
Number three.
What time would that be?
Poor old Milton.
Big old dummy.
(door closes)
Why didn't you tell us
John got into a fight?
Is that what you argued about?
A few drinks, he can be
a right bloody idiot.
It was a fella
called Milton.
Do you know him?
I'd never seen him before.
It was all so stupid.
We were having such a
lovely time.
(dance music playing,
people laughing and talking)
Some of the dancers there,
they're just wonderful.
(music continues)
He went to get us a drink.
Whoa, whoa!
(people exclaim in background)
Hey up!
It was all so quick.
Suddenly John and this chap
(glass breaks)
were going at it.
You know how men get
when they've had a few.
Either want a kiss
and a cuddle or a fight.
What did John say it was about?
Who was next in the queue
for the bar.
(knock at door)
Larry, Elliot's asking for you.
(telephone ringing in distance,
typewriter clacking)
Was your husband a violent man,
I don't see
how that matters now.
Yeah, if he was angry,
if he was riled,
would he have it in him
to hurt someone?
(birds twittering)
I think the phrase is
"read them and
have a little cry."
I don't think that's the phrase.
I know gambling's a sin, but
I'm starting to see the appeal.
Gives you quite a tingle,
doesn't it?
(door bursts open)
What's this?
Come on, move!
What are you doing?
Chuck 'em in the van.
Bring 'em all in.
On what grounds?
'Cause I say so.
OFFICER: Get up!
What the hell did I do?
You're hurting him!
My heart bleeds.
You're coming and all,
Mr. Finch.
On what grounds?
What have we done?
On what grounds?
(door opens)
This John Mitchell?
He's a wrong 'un.
I mean, his wife
didn't say as much,
but I wouldn't be surprised
if he knocked her about a bit.
He goes out,
he gets plastered,
he starts a fight
and knocks ten bells out of
a fella called Milton,
kills him,
and legs it into a road
where he shouldn't have been.
He's drunk.
He doesn't see
where he's going
Did he have children?
He was running from the man
he just killed, Will.
Tell me
he didn't have children.
This changes everything--
he's a murderer.
So am I.
You were in the wrong place
at the wrong time.
I was going
78 miles per hour.
You were in the wrong place
at the wrong time, Will.
(men shouting)
Whatever's occurring out there,
I'm not gonna like it, am I?
Stab in the dark, I'd say no.
(shouting continuing)
ALFIO (speaking Italian):
Unless we're under arrest,
you have no grounds
to keep us here.
Arrest them all!
For what?
Arrest 'em, interview 'em.
(speaking Italian):
No don't worry, don't worry--
for what?
Find out if they were
at the Mirage last night.
We played cards.
We haven't done anything.
You're bound to do something
So you're admitting
this is harassment.
That it's unjust.
That you're nothing
but a common little thug.
Shut your mouth,
you pansy bastard,
before I shut it for you.
Now tell me
this isn't harassment.
LARRY: The Guv said.
I don't give a damn
what the Guv said, you
Halfway house
is within a mile
of where all this
trouble happened.
Uh, there's a Catholic girls'
school within a mile, sir.
You wanna bring them in,
as well?
The owner of the Mirage
said the cons
They've been causing trouble.
LEONARD: That's not true.
That's speculation, Larry.
I think they followed Milton
out to the field,
beat him up.
John killed Milton, sir,
he ran
Stop trying to
absolve your friend.
Get a confession
from Mr. Davenport,
charge him with
reckless driving,
then get on with your damn job.
(telephone ringing,
people talking in background)
My office.
(typewriter clacking)
Why'd you go above my head?
Your mate's in trouble.
You don't want him
to go to prison.
Oh, so now you're insulting
my integrity.
You're trying to make out
Will's done nothing wrong.
He hasn't.
You want the bloke he knocked
over to look like a wrong 'un.
But if he'd been in a fight,
wouldn't there be blood
all over him?
You always tell me
we have to put
personal feelings to one side,
(footsteps approaching)
Things are getting a little
fractious out there.
(men shouting indistinctly,
Geordie sighs)
You find out
what his problem is.
I've had my fill.
I'm doing my best
to give these men some hope.
To give them a reason to believe
society wants them
to succeed.
And then your lot
come crashing in.
When as far as I can see,
our greatest offense
was a rather tedious game
of gin rummy!
But if that makes me
a master criminal,
then so be it--
take me to my cell!
Um, not sure you realize,
but that little chat
was supposed to have
the opposite effect.

I can't find the words
to help him, Leonard.

(door opens)
(breath trembling)
(door closes, Will sobbing)
I'm here, I'm here now.
Didn't think of you
as the aggressive sort.
Bit of a twerp sometimes,
Not aggressive.
What is it?
Girl trouble?
Boy trouble?
My old mum.
Ah, mothers.
The worst trouble of all.
What's she done?
She passed away.
Oh, Larry, I'm
I'm so sorry.
It was a heart attack.
She was lovely, my old mum.
Thought the world of me,
for some reason.
Proud of my job.
No doubt she'd be prouder
if you didn't go around
threatening people.
You're better than that,
Your mum knew that.
Miss Scott.
About Geordie
I think you owe him
an apology.
He's got this all wrong-- look.
His name was John.
Bonnie and I, we, uh
We talked about calling
the baby John.
It's her dad's name.
The only biblical name
I could sneak past her.
John woke up yesterday,
same as any other.
Went about his day.
And in a moment,
it was all over.
He was so young, he was
A moment later, and he would've
been across the road,
and a moment sooner,
and I would've seen him.
I'm not sure it's helpful
to think like that.
I haven't told Bonnie.
She'll feel nothing
but compassion for you.
(voice cracking):
I don't deserve it.
If someone came to you
in the same predicament,
if someone sought your counsel,
what would you say to them?
I don't know.
I think you'd take their hand.
You'd listen as they
told you their story.
And they'd see that
you feel nothing but pity
and they'd be grateful for that.
Then you'd tell them that the
Bible talks of cities
where those that had taken
another man's life
by accident could seek refuge.
Beautiful cities with rivers
and forests
and glorious sunsets.
Where they could live
a full life, untroubled.
Where God still loved them
very much.
God still loves you
very much, Will.

Is this the man that got
into a fight with your husband?
Just give us a minute, boss.
She shouldn't be
in here.
Just give Larry a minute.
This isn't him.
Thing is, boss
The thing is
And we're not questioning
your integrity.
The story about what happened
at the dance hall doesn't add
up for me.
Either the wife's lying
or the brothers are.
Or both.
So I had a look back
at our records.
Ray Mansfield is a violent thug.
Assault, GBH,
possession of a knife.
Punched the arresting officer
more than once.
If anyone got into a fight with
John that night, it's him.
So you are questioning
my integrity.
Well, no.
A little bit.
Mrs. Mitchell.
Do you recognize this man?
That's him.
The man who hit John.
It wasn't a fight about the
queue for the bar, was it?
She was blonde.
John always had
an eye for a blonde.
Fella made a play for me.
Right old letch.
You know how men get.
So I said to Ray, I say,
"That fella was trying it
on with me."
And Ray, being the honorable
chap he is,
defended your honor.
No one makes a play for my girl.
Maybe you and Milton
followed John home.
I never left the club.
Ask Paulie.
Ray never left the club.
Maybe Milton went
after the fella.
So hang on, now Milton is
the one defending Dot's honor.
Not her boyfriend.
Help me out here, Paulie.
Why on God's green earth
would he do that?
I don't know.
You're confusing me.
So Milton got punched
to death
because another fella looked
at a girl funny.
Not even his girl.
She's a rotter,
I'm sure of it.
Doesn't make no sense.
Doesn't make any sense.
We have a body in woodland
covered in blood.
One punch to the stomach,
pathologist reckons.
But the amount of blood
Milton lost,
the killer would've been
soaked in it, too.
John didn't have
any blood on him.
That rules out John.
Not the others, though.
What about the others?
Paulie, Ray, Dot, witness saw
them at closing time,
so all clean as a whistle.
I'm not sure
I'd call that girl clean,
even if she does work
in a laundry.
Something happened to make
John run into that road.
He's running from Milton.
Well, according to Dot,
Milton went home on
the number three bus.
At what time?
Well, then, she's lying.
The last bus is at 7:00 p.m.
She's covering for them.
(spoon clatters)
(machine hissing)
Unless it's a service wash
you're after,
I'm not interested.
You are a force
to be reckoned with,
aren't you, Dot?
Nothing wrong with that.
And yet one look from a fella,
you're off running to Ray
for protection.
I didn't like it.
Bloke was a sleaze.
See, I think you did.
I think you
like the attention.
You know Ray has previous
for violence.
You wound him up
and set him off.
(door opens)
Mr. Finch, they're
ready for your interview now.
And what delights
can I look forward to
in this persecution of the
Thumbscrews, perhaps?
Is anyone with John?
Can I see him?
I'd be in so much trouble.
He shouldn't be on his own.
I can't bear the thought
of him being on his own.
How many fights have
you been in, Ray?
And the rest.
Shut your fat mouth, Paulie.
I think you enjoy it.
Chance to throw your
weight around.
You were looking
for a fight that night.
That fella's just
tried it on, Ray.
Dirty little sod.
Perhaps he needs
to learn a lesson.
Perhaps he does.
No perhaps about it.
What'd you say to my girl?
You follow him out
down the footpath,
ready to give him a pasting.
But something stopped you--
or someone.
Punch his lights out, Ray.
Milton didn't mind a punch-up.
I think I can do
better than that.
But maybe you pulled a knife,
and that was too much for him.
He stopped you, didn't he?
So you turn on your mate.
You punch him.
And down he goes.
Didn't strike me as odd before,
but tablecloths
at the Mirage?
It's like putting a floral
arrangement on a bombsite.
Difficult stain
to get out, blood.
This yours, I take it, Ray?
Raymond Mansfield,
I'm arresting you for murder.
Oh, you know the rest.
Heard it enough times.
I'm sure
you know it off by heart.
Don't you dare make
a run for it.
I'm not chasing you
in these heels.

Lord, grant to him eternal rest.
Let light perpetual
shine upon him.
No, please.
I'm his wife.
Can I pray with you?
Of course.
Let light perpetual
shine upon him.
May his soul and the souls
of all the departed,
through the mercy of God,
rest in peace.
He wanted children.
We both did.
But for him, it was
something more.
He needed it.
To be a dad.
Never happened, unfortunately.
What was he like?
A good man.
For the most part.
Not one of us can say we're
perfect, can we?
Thank you
for being with him.
Pray for me, too, if you would.
It was me.
It was me on the bike.
I, I know it's not enough,
it will never be enough.
But I, I am so, so sorry.

Ah, Mr. Davenport.
I think it's time
we resumed our interview.
Where to start?
The argument with
your wife, perhaps.
We weren't arguing exactly.
You left the house
in a fury.
You got on your bike,
you were going too fast.
I didn't think I was.
How shall we put it?
Driving recklessly?
I wasn't-- I'm sure I wasn't.
Reckless-- hm.
Sums you up, I think.
No concern for others.
Elliot, I know Maya and
I know I caused you upset.
You destroyed my life.
How is it you hurt everyone
around you
and always come out unscathed?
That's the perfect word.
(door opens)
How is he?
Promise me he's all right.
Fella Will knocked over was
a bad 'un.
Wasn't Will's fault.
I knew it,
I knew it couldn't be.
I need every document
we have on Will's bike.
Service records, manuals?

It's bad, isn't it?
(keys jangling)
(lock turns)
Come to finish off the job?
You're free to go.
If I weren't in danger
of going back in that cell,
I'd give you
a piece of my mind.
And trust me,
it wouldn't be very charitable.
I'm sorry.
I was wrong to call
you names and I apologize.
Mr. Finch.
Geordie's retiring.
There'll be no one here
to protect you soon.
So don't get cocky.


"As per the evidence, I agree
"that I was going
78 miles per hour.
"I admit I drove dangerously
and that Mr. Mitchell's death
was entirely the fault
of my reckless behavior."
Sign, please.
(door opens)
Not now.
It's a photograph
taken four weeks ago.
Speedo was already broken.
Stuck at 78 miles an hour.
The last witness to see
Mr. Davenport in the village
said he was going at
a steady pace.
40, tops.
The road's dangerous.
It's a blind corner.
Countless deaths.
John was threatened
with a knife.
He was running for his life.
And measurements from the road
show Will tried to brake.
It was an accident.
He has no case to answer for
and we have no right to keep
him here.
(pen drops)
(door closes)
(breath trembles)
(inhales sharply)
(door opens)

(door closes)
Ray behaving himself?
Good as gold.
Hasn't thumped a single
officer yet.
Will wonders never cease?
Do you know how many times
you've been arrested, Ray?
Unlucky for some.
Usually for the officer
arresting you.
You always put up a fight.
Not this time, though-- why not?
You got me bang to rights.
Oh, I'm touched you have
so much faith in me.
Problem is, I'm starting
to doubt myself.
Why would you
not fight back?
I don't think this is yours.
Which begs the question,
who're you trying to protect?
Mirage Club, now.
I can't do it.
I can't lie anymore.
You were just trying to keep
the peace, weren't you, Paulie?
Not so cocky now, are you?
Let him go, Ray, please.
MILTON (laughing):
Shut up, Paulie.
Oi, teach him a lesson, Ray!
No, I said let him go-- Ray!
(Paul and Ray panting)
What'd you do that for?
Always have to ruin the fun.
You scared, Paulie?
MILTON: Course you are.
Your lardy arse couldn't punch
its way
out of a paper bag!
(Dot laughing)
(grunts loudly)
(Milton gasping,
others laughing)
Kablammo! You see that?!
How's that for a lard arse?
(gasping, moaning)
Hey! Hey!
(coughing, sputtering)
(Milton wheezing,
Paul crying)
I just wanted them to stop
laughing at me for a little bit.
It was one punch.
One punch is all it takes.
You must've been
covered in blood.
Get that shirt off him.
Well, get it off him,

Turn around.
Can you tell his family
Can you tell them I'm sorry?
The other man, too.
I'm sorry.
Excuse me, Vicar, can I, uh
Can I talk to you?
I killed my mate.
I, I didn't mean to.
It's going to haunt me
forever, isn't it?
What's your name?
God still loves you, Paul.
Even after this?
Whatever we do, he loves us.
I don't see how.
We're his children.
And he cares for us,
sins and all.
It's just, he looked so scared.
When I close my eyes,
I can see him.
Things feel dark now,
but there is always darkness
before the dawn.
And the dawn always comes.
Mr. Davenport.
God loves you very much, Paul.
Thank you for your
We're releasing you
without charge.
Your belongings.
Thank you, Mr. Davenport.
That's it?
All done.

I should tell Bonnie.
Of course.
Everything happens for a reason.
God has a reason, Will.
BONNIE (on phone):
I couldn't sleep last night.
It's weird when you're
not there.
Baby was kicking me all night.
Right in the bladder,
the little bugger.
He's definitely gonna
be a footballer.
Or, or a tiny hooligan,
one or the other.
I, I had an idea for a name.
John's too ordinary, I think.
Uh, how about Sebastian?
Too, is it too snooty?
I love you.
I love you, too.
What is it?
How was school?
What's this?
You can read it now,
if you like.

(exhales softly)
Does that sound
all right to you?
It sounds wonderful.
Yes, Ern?
I feel very lucky.
So do I.


GEORDIE: A valuable painting
has been stolen.
Leave this to us.
Don't worry.
I'm here about the job?
You did this behind my back.
Will is definitely not happy.
Stop discussing me
as if I were a child.

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