Grantchester

How's he doing?

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

But is he just saying it,

or does he really mean it?

Truthfully, I think he's just saying it.

He's tidying, Geordie.

Since when does he tidy?

Since five o'clock this morning, apparently.

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

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

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

Poor lad.

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

Who's abandoned who?

- Uh, Mrs C. - And Dickens.

- Mrs C's abandoned Dickens? - Yep.

That's about the size of it.

Why are you both in my kitchen?

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

You said you were going to speak to the bishop.

Uh, yes.

With regard to me lay preaching.

Yeah, I will. I will do that.

You want to rejoin the church?

I'm searching for spiritual intent.

I'm just here for the bacon.

Ow.

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

That would be marvellous.

Sooner rather than later, if you could.

You busy?

I'm tidying, Geordie.

So I hear. Lord Worley...

Not died, has he?

Not that I know of.

Why, is it on the cards?

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

Well, he's not got long left.

I've been going up to pray with him.

That'll certainly speed him along.

No, he's been burgled.

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

Oh.

Yeah, give me five minutes.

Dickens?

I panicked. Sorry.

So...

I'm fine.

I haven't asked you anything yet.

You were going to ask how I was doing,

and the answer is "fine."

Me and Meg were always destined to be friends.

You and Meg?

What's happened with you and Meg?

Well, she's seeing someone else,

which feels like the right thing.

Morning, Reuben. How are you?

Briggs won't let you in that way.

You know how he gets.

Ah.

Geordie, I usually go in through the kitchens.

Buggar that.

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

I was thinking about your mother.

- Oh, that. - Yeah, that.

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

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

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

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

Only it might not just be God's will.

- What did you do? - Nothing.

I just suggested...

Suggested what?

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

Right.

"This" being a relationship with her son?

Well, yes. I was trying to help.

So let me get this straight.

You find my mother, against my will,

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

I don't want to see you get hurt.

Like now, you mean?

You said you were fine.

I am fine.

Inspector Keating, Cambridgeshire Police.

Tradesmen's entrance is left and left again.

We're not tradesmen.

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

Is that right?

I had a report about a burglary.

Uh, excuse me one moment.

Are you angry with me?

No.

You can be angry if you want.

Well, that's very generous of you.

Thank you, Geordie.

What on earth are those?

- I made them. - With what?

Flour, bicarb...

You don't even know what bicarb is.

Prefix bi, meaning double,

carbonate, meaning... carbonate.

- Are you drunk? - No.

First time for everything, I suppose, Briggs.

Tell Father we're here for tea.

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

Well, how about this?

Strangers a calling. How thrilling.

They've just arrived to investigate the burglary.

Thank you, Briggs.

Inspector.

And you must be our vicar.

Father said you were something of a novelty.

I wonder what he meant by that?

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

and do whatever it is you do.

We'd appreciate it if this matter

were dealt with promptement.

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

And she didn't make those cakes.

I'll make a note of that.

I've listed everything that was taken.

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

butterfly necklace Allegra's been coveting.

It's of deep sentimental value.

Funny how your sentimentality seems to correlate

directly to the ratio of diamonds.

We'll need paperwork for the insurance claim.

And I can speak French, by the way.

Fluently, as it happens.

I'm sorry. You are?

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

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

Can we speak to your father?

Lord Worley is sleeping.

He's unaware of any of this nastiness.

And I intend to keep it that way.

See them out when they're done.

Apologies for my brother.

He can be terribly grand sometimes.

- Dipso. - Degenerate.

He has a wife who hates him and a son

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

Allegra.

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

We're working.

Yes, yes, go on.

I knew you were a compadre.

I could tell the moment I saw you.

Show them to the drawing room, Briggs.

Follow me, please.

I'm not working.

Chucked it through the window, rifled through the drawers.

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

Hmm? Why not jimmy the lock?

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

No one keeps anything of importance in drawers like this.

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

and I say, "inside job."

I put money on it.

Ah.

Thank you.

Sure I can't tempt you, Inspector?

- Pretty sure. - What shall we toast to?

Another day, another bender.

No retreat, no surrender.

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

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

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

I object to this with some gusto.

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

I think we can manage.

Ready for round two, Vicar?

Hmm. Why not?

I could give you a few reasons.

His Lordship's taking a nap.

So everyone seems very keen to tell me.

Well, I've only just got him off,

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

if it's all the same to you.

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

if it's all the same to you.

Go forth from this world

in the love of God who created you.

In the power of the Holy Spirit who strengthens you.

May you dwell this day in peace.

It's your dream.

It's the words from your dream.

It's a prayer, Geordie.

- Silas Marner. - Never read it.

It's about loneliness.

Burn marks around his mouth.

Poisoning.

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

Mine too.

He's been here hours.

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

They noticed.

Someone noticed.

Give me a moment.