All language subtitles for heartbeat_s10e02_smile_for_the_camera

Heartbeat, why do you miss when my baby
kisses me?

Heartbeat, why does a love chip stay in
my memory?

Same thing?

Yep.

They can't all be wrong numbers.

Every night now for two weeks.

It's getting beyond a joke.

We've got to try and work out who it is,
Mike.

I'm going to.

Ah, good.

Payday. I mean, keeping on phoning day
after day, what's he hoping for a tea?

Oh, tea?

Oh, well, you never know.

It might be a tea.

Desperate to hear the sound of my voice.

Sweetheart.

What are you looking for?

My diary.

I don't know where I left it.

All this phone business, it's not fair
on you.

It's not fair on either of us.

Yes, but in my case, it goes with the
job.

Superintendent to all section sergeants.

Renovation of filing systems.

Renovation of filing systems.

Which means, gentlemen, that we go
through all files with a fine -tooth

dispose of all paperwork over ten years
old. Every file?

Every file.

Even the stuff in the loft?

The what?

Old station records, Sarge.

Boxes of them.

Sergeant Blake never threw anything
away.

Get them done.

Well, don't fail.

Excuse me, Miss Hickmire.

Am I sorry about the Colonel?

I just don't know where to turn.

He was in the Royal Horse Artillery, you
see.

Yeah.

Oh, dear.

Don't cry, Mrs. Smythe.

I mean, I'll ask Mr. Scripps, of course,
but he'll never be able to do it.

What do you mean, the funeral?

He wanted horses and a gun carriage.

Oh, isn't it?

That's no problem.

Oh, I'm sure that Mr. Scripps could do
that.

He could?

Oh, yeah. Well, he's got a carriage.

Mr Greengrass, he knows all about the
horses.

Oh, Anthony, isn't that a relief?

David says Mr Scripps can do it.

Mother, it's no good listening to him.

We'll have to ask Scripps himself.

Oh, but David is a friend of Mr Scripps.

I'll get him to come round and do it
right away.

So, um, these calls started when?

Oh, about, uh, two weeks ago.

Well, do you think it would have been
somebody that you nicked around the

Not necessarily.

Watch it, Phil!

I mean, uh, it could be someone from
ages ago. That's the problem.

Where do you begin?

What are you two standing about for? Top
shop?

It's sad.

These funny calls that Mike's been
getting. Get on with it, Ventress. I

this job finished, A -F -A -P.

We'll get strange phone calls, Bradley,
if an occupational hazard.

Mr. Seaglass!

Mr. Seaglass! Mr. Seaglass, I've got to
speak to you.

Please don't sign off, because I've
called her, yes, and she's... Well,

not upset. I don't want to disappoint
her. I said, Mr. Scripps, he'll help.

Have you stopped?

Why don't you take a deep breath and
start again, because I don't know what

devil you're talking about.

Colonel Smythe's funeral.

Oh, he's turned his toes up at last, has
he?

Yeah, this morning, while I was doing
the gardening.

Anyway, Mrs Smythe, she said she wants
one of them, like, horse and carriages

for the funeral. I said that we'd do it.

We? Who's we?

Well, you.

And me, Mr Scripps.

What, you told her that we can supply a
carriage?

Yeah. For that, I'm clear it's job to
put more top.

What, that thing?

I wouldn't be seen dead in that, let
alone Colonel Smythe.

We can do it, Ub.

No, we can't, because it don't belong to
us. We left it there when we did the

clearance, didn't we? So now it belongs
to that Eames bloke who's moved in. How

many times have I told you to engage
your brain before you open your mouth?

Well, I'm promising so we can do it.

Well, you just have to go and unpromise
and tell her we can't. Go on, on you...

Go on.

Uh -huh, it was the Manfred.

Claude said what?

That if you go and see Mr. Smythe, he'll
lend a key to Orson's carriage.

He hasn't got Orson's carriage.

Yes, he has. He told me all about it.

Anyway, you've got to go and see Mrs
Smythe, and I've said you go straight

round.

So what about the phone call? Did you
find out anything?

Look, I'll just... Nothing

at all?

No, I had a quick look at the crime
sheets, but... But no possible?

Not yet.

Fancy a sandwich?

Mike. What? Spit it out.

Okay.

Look, I think someone's been hanging
around the house.

I beg your pardon?

Next, please.

Someone's been what?

Well, I don't know. I found a couple of
film wrappers in the garden.

Thanks. Well, what are you saying?

Someone's been taking photographs.

Look, I don't know.

It's probably nothing.

The same person that's been making the
phone calls.

I'll have a quick look at the crowd when
he gets back.

My father left very precise funeral
instructions to Mr. Scripps, which I

should imagine are out of the question
for a small firm of undertakers.

Oh, but, Anthony, David assured me...
Mother, just let Mr. Scripps read.

He was a military man, you see.

He always loved the pomp and
circumstance.

He certainly knew what he wanted.

Yes, well, we shouldn't have troubled
you.

I can always try one of the larger firms
in Whitby.

No, no, no, it may be possible.

Of course, we couldn't provide the gun
carriage as such.

A military escort, when you need the
army for that sort of thing, it wouldn't

come cheap.

Money is no object, Mr Scripps, as long
as my husband gets what he wanted. Yes,

all right, Mother.

Perhaps it would be better if you left
Mr Scripps and me to discuss the

I do so hope you'll do it.

My husband always liked to use the
little local man, if at all possible.

Where have you been? To see the bank
manager?

Very funny.

Hey, I must have been somewhere dressed
like that.

Not starting courting again, have you?

Been to the Smythe's, that instructed.

David, I don't know what's come over
him. How many times do I have to tell

I am not the least bit interested in
Colonel Smythe's flaming funeral.

He's only told them we can fix him up
with a carriage.

I bet they'd expect us to do it for next
to nothing anyway.

Yes, you're absolutely right. They've
only offered us £150.

What?

David, leave that.

I think I might want to use your brawn.

See you later. Good night.

All along, I assumed it was me. All
right, Bradley.

It never crossed my mind. It was Jackie
thereafter.

I am waiting.

I am waiting. I wonder what that means.

No idea.

You definitely don't recognise the
writing?

No.

What about boyfriends?

Oh, come on. Ex -boyfriends.

Someone you jilted, perhaps?

It's nothing like that.

Look, Mike, please.

I can speak for myself.

Obviously, there were boyfriends that
didn't work out.

But no one who'd want to pester you?

No.

Bradley, get on to the court, will you?
Get the clerk to draw up a list of all

recent cases where your wife has acted
as a solicitor.

What, now, Sergeant? Yes.

But, Sergeant...

Mrs.

Bradley, I'm a man of the world.

I'm not here to beg you. I just want to
establish the fact.

So let's be straight with each other,
shall we?

Anything you say won't go any further, I
promise you that.

What exactly are you implying?

That nine times out of ten, in cases
like this, the culprit is generally

you know.

A disgruntled lover, perhaps. So is no
one?

No.

Pity. Would explain things.

Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you.

Perhaps you left your diary somewhere by
mistake.

What do you mean?

Somewhere you didn't want your husband
to know about.

Well, in which case, I'd hardly be here,
would I?

True.

Unless the man was becoming a nuisance
and your husband was in danger of

out. You are way off target, Sergeant
Craddock.

Mike and I are very happy.

And this business and the phone calls
are a complete mystery to both of us.

I thought I was here to be helped.

I got that wrong, though, didn't I?

I'll see you later.

Jackie?

What's going on?

Nothing that I know of, Bradley.

As far as I'm concerned, it is not a
police matter.

Excuse me?

It's a domestic.

A simple domestic. I suggest you talk to
your wife.

What are you doing?

I'm not going to do that.

Aha!

The dreams.

Better late than never, eh?

We should have taken this months ago
when we cleared the rest of the stuff,

we'll soon have it out of your way. Now,
hold on a minute.

You can't just take it.

It's a valuable antique.

What? Yes, I'm afraid so.

If you want it, you're going to have to
pay for it.

We weren't going to charge you. I mean,
I was going to do it as a sort of

neighbourly gesture. Well, I'm very
sorry.

How much do you want for it?

£25.

Big smite.

I'll give you £5.

£25.

£5, and I'll get David to clear the rest
of the shed afterwards. I can't be

fairer than that.

£25.

You're a hard man, Mr Eames.

All right, I'll go to £10.

Sorry.

£15, and that's my final offer.

All right, come on, David.

Mr. Greengrass? David, David, shut it
and get in the truck.

I've got to make 150 quid from Colonel
Smart's funeral.

I know that, don't I? Have I not taught
you anything?

You never give them the first price they
ask for. They always come down.

I don't think he will.

Mr. Greengrass?

Yes?

You can have it for 20.

Thank you.

Now, there's the surprise.

I think we need to come and attack it
for you. Come on, David.

Any call?

No, just a couple of wrong numbers.

Like what?

Well, you know, silence.

Just ringing off without saying
anything.

Oh, and someone rang about a diary.

Oh, yes.

Had you found it or something?

It rang off before I could ask its name.

A bit peculiar, really.

Fine.

Can you tell me who bought these
flowers, please?

Oh, bless him.

Such a sad business.

He was devoted to his dad.

Devoted.

We're doing the flowers for the funeral,
you know.

He and his mother have really gone to
town. No expense spared.

I'm sorry, who are we talking about
here?

Anthony. Anthony's mine.

Such a nice boy.

And does he live locally? Yes, out
Adenfield Way.

His family have lived round here for
years.

Though he had to move away because of
his job. Oh, really? What's he do?

Oh, a solicitor.

Very successful by all accounts.

Thanks.

Visit him, little fellow.

Thank you.

My!

For you.

They were on the doorstep when I got
home.

I thought I might as well deliver them
as I was passing.

Any idea who they're from?

No. Ah, good job the florist was able to
tell me then.

They're from an Anthony Smythe,
apparently.

Only he forgot to sign his name.

Right.

So, what is all this?

Why is an Anthony Smythe sending you red
roses?

He's an old friend, that's all.

Is he?

Well, he's also a solicitor, I gather.
Very cosy, but that doesn't answer my

question. Mike.

I suppose you two meet each other on
cases.

That kind of thing, hmm?

I don't believe this.

First Craddock and now you. There's
nothing going on, Mike. I know him,

all, from York.

Know in what sense?

For goodness sake.

Well, did you go out together?

Briefly. It was nothing, Mike. It's not
worth mentioning.

Except his parents live in Aidensfield
and he'd been here for two weeks,

his father.

Yes.

All right. Look, he's phoned me a few
times. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.

It didn't seem important.

Did you meet?

No.

Well, so, I come back to the same
question.

Why the flowers?

Look, Jackie, the man's been in the area
for two weeks. We've had these strange

phone calls for two weeks. Someone's
been hanging outside the house for two

weeks. You're surely not going to
suggest that's Anthony Poo, are you?

Why not?

Oh, what, because he's a nice middle
-class solicitor, is that it?

I suppose he hangs around the garden
till I've gone, does he?

So he can see you.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you about
Anthony.

Refusing to talk to me isn't going to
make it any better.

He was keen on me.

We went out a few times and then I ended
it and I haven't seen him since.

When I heard he was here and his father
was dying, I rang him up, just to be

friendly.

He was having a terrible time. He needed
cheering up.

Look,

I know I should have told you, but I
knew you wouldn't like it.

It seemed easier not to.

So you only spoke to him on the phone?

Mm.

Was it him who was making all the phone
calls?

Mike!

Okay,

Smythe, I know it's you.

Smythe?

Smythe?

Is that it?

It's genuine antiques.

It's a disaster. It's falling to pieces.

Like woodworm.

If not, it's just the holes where
they've been. It'll be all right with a

tender loving care.

Tender loving care clawed the funerals
in three days' time.

Well, you'd better get your skates on
then, aren't you?

How are you going to make this look like
that?

David will help you with the painting
and that, won't you, David? Oh, yes, Mr.

Greengrass. What are you going to be
doing?

I've got to go and see if I can find
somewhere to pull it. We haven't got a

horse. Who do you think I am, Prince
Monolulu? Look, you do your bit, leave

to do my bit.

David, get it on hooks.

Three minutes of questioning.

Yes. Anthony Smythe? Yes. On what
grounds? I've just told you on what

Phoning us up at all hours, hanging
around the garden, breaking into

car. Bradley, don't you think you're
getting a bit carried away?

No, Sarge.

You've got no proof he had anything to
do with any of this. No proof

I know it's him.

No, you don't.

Bradley, I would like to help you, but I
can't.

This is something for you and your wife
to sort out between you.

But, Sarge... And I want you to keep
away from Anthony Smythe. In fact,

an order.

Understood?

Sarge.

Mike? What's this?

The bell.

Pickering.

That's quite a trick.

Let's just see.

The 24th.

Remind me, that was the day I took a
late turn in Whitby, wasn't it?

Mike. Two starters.

Two main dishes, a bottle of wine. Oh,
very, very cosy.

All right, I had a meal with Anthony.

You said.

You didn't meet him.

I didn't dare tell you.

So, what else haven't you dared tell me?

Nothing, Mike.

And the reason I didn't tell you is
because I knew you'd react like this.

excuse me, but as your husband, I think
I have a right to know who you're seeing

behind my back.

For goodness sake, Mike!

What? Did he come over here? Did he come
round when I'm not here? Is that what's

been going on?

Don't you know that no one alive can
always be nature?

When things go wrong, I seem to be bad.

I'm just a soul whose intentions are
good.

Oh, Lord, please don't let me be
misunderstood.

Baby, sometimes I'm so...

What's all this? Who are you?

Mike Bradley.

Ring any bell?

You know my wife, Jackie.

Jackie? Listen.

I'm not having someone like you messing
up our life. Got it? Then you can take

that as a warning.

I haven't the faintest idea what you're
talking about.

Really? Well, then, perhaps I can jog
your memory.

Will you please keep your voice down?

Let's start with a phone call, shall we?

What? I'm spying in the garden. Look.
And the diary. The mysterious diary.

I'm waiting. What's that supposed to
mean, eh?

Well... Mr Bradley.

How do you stop shouting and come
through to the study to discuss... Oh,

study. Oh, yeah, yeah, well, that must
have really impressed her.

She's always wanted a grand house, but I
suppose she told you that herself.

I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

You're besotted, aren't you?

Admit it.

You just can't leave her alone.

What are you suggesting?

I don't have to suggest anything,
Smythe.

I'm telling you what I know.

For your information, Bradley, I haven't
seen Jackie since she left York.

Say that again?

You heard me.

Liar. Get out. Get out.

A more strong funeral. That's a bit
grand for you, isn't it, Bernie?

He's not doing it on his own, you know.
He's in association with it.

It won't be grand.

It'll be tasteful.

Oh, yeah?

What does that mean, then, Bernie? An
old box on wheels?

Pulled by, Alfred.

It's all you lot, as you've got no
imagination.

Jackie!

What's happened?

Once the GPO have organised the phones,
we'll do a phone tap.

And it won't be Anthony Smythe, will it?

No. Why is that, then?

Because I was with him at the time, so
it couldn't have been him at the window.

So you went to see him when I expressly
told you not to. What on earth were you

playing at?

Sorry, Sarge. I've just had him on the
phone.

Luckily, I managed to calm him down, or
you could be in serious trouble. I

thought it was the prowler. Well, you
were wrong, weren't you? So why was he

lying about Jackie, then? Oh, for
heaven's sake, Bradley, we are talking

two different things.

One, the prowler. Two, your wife's
boyfriend.

And we've proved they are two different
people. But, Sarge... You're off the

case.

Well, they don't look right together.

I'm not going to use the donkey.

I'm talking about the horse.

Well, wherever the horse goes, the
donkey has to be. David, take that

across the other side of the field, will
you?

Look, it's not a bad -looking animal, is
it? What do you think?

I'm pleasantly surprised.

Claude, she'll do very well.

There's not much I don't know about
horses. I don't know about you, but I'm

beginning to feel quietly optimistic.

I'm always optimistic. That's my
trouble.

You ironic little devil.

Oscar, this Prowler business, I think
it's time that you and I gave Mike a bit

of help.

So, let's make sure we know what we're
doing.

If it's him, I give you the signal and
you phone the GPO.

And remember to get him talking for as
long as possible.

Now, how am I supposed to do that?

Well, I don't know.

Flatter him. You're good at that.

I beg your pardon?

I was only joking.

Well, it wasn't very funny in the
circumstances.

Well, I'm so sorry.

Mike, can we just forget about Anthony?

Nothing happened.

You lied to me.

First, you told me you hadn't been in
touch.

Then, you told me you hadn't met.

I said I'm sorry.

I'm, um...

I'm just never quite sure that's the
trouble.

What?

Whether you wouldn't have preferred to
be with a man like... like him.

What, Anthony?

Someone more your type.

Look, you're my type.

OK.

Then... someone who earns more than you,
not less.

Is that what all this is about, my
earnings?

Believe you, Mike, it's just a stage
we're at.

When you're a chief constable and I'm a
housebound housewife with three kids,

you'll be earning for both of us.

Four. What?

Well, I thought we could have four.

Let's just get out of here for an hour
or so.

It's not doing us any good.

We... We can't. We can't.

Craddock will never catch him with his
phone -tapping business.

Of course not. A great yellow van parked
outside?

Well, the prowl will be wise to it in a
jiffy. You can't beat good old

-fashioned police methods. Knowing your
area, knowing your villains.

Exactly.

Is this all her recent cases, is it?
Yes, everything since she arrived in

Ashfordly.

Craddock's been through it with her
already, of course.

Ah, but without local knowledge.

That's right, Oscar.

Right, then, when I go through the
names, see what we can come up with,

mark down the possibles.

Sid Ponting's car theft.

He's inside.

Joseph Maplin, dangerous driving.

No.

Bill Snaith.

Indecent exposure.

Mark him down.

Martin Padmore.

Firearms offences.

He works at the bank, doesn't he?

Yeah.

There was something else about him, if I
remember.

Now, what was it?

I tell you what, Alf.

My memory's not good enough these days.

I think we should take a look at my old
records.

In the loft.

Oh, yes.

There's something you should know about
your old records in the loft, Oscar.

Midnight. He's always phoned by now.

Nothing.

I'm going up. Are you coming? Jackie,
wait.

I know. I'm sorry, too.

Coast clear.

Well, Lee.

What's he doing here?

Is this it?

Is this all that's left?

May just be something here.

It's criminal.

It's like Hitler burning books outside
the Reichstag.

I couldn't sleep a wink thinking about
this.

Ask him.

Yeah, here we are, Ralph.

June, 1958.

Martin Padmore.

Martin Padmore.

Yeah, he started making phone calls, and
then he began following a Jane

Dewsbury. I remember.

We knew he was doing it, but we couldn't
make it stick.

She hardly knew him, but he thought they
were having a love affair.

Right. We've got to admit, it sounds
similar.

Well, I think we'd best get an address.

Pay him a visit, don't you?

Oscar, you'd best leave it to us.

Craddock will only have a fit.

Sorry.

So am I.

We don't know it's Padma, of course.

No, of course we don't.

So what do we do? Tell Mike?

Well, crack the safe off the case.

What?

I stand with my head down in my hand,

wondering what on earth I have done

wrong.

You got a pen, Andy?

I've got an address for you.

Horncliffe Drive.

Strictly speaking, Mike, you shouldn't
be here. I'll just go.

Half.

I don't believe this.

What are appointments?

No wonder he needed a diary.

Where is she? She left 20 minutes ago.
Why? What's happened?

Where's she gone?

Home. She went home early.

She's gone.

What? She's gone home.

Keep driving.

It's Martin,

isn't it?

Martin Padmore. No talking.

I had a track to the right in half a
mile to Blackwood Moor. Take it.

But I haven't got much petrol.

You won't need much petrol.

Look at me.

Into my eyes.

That's better.

You and I belong together, Jackie. You
know that, don't you?

So why did you kiss him?

I saw you last night through the window
kissing him.

I'm sorry.

You mustn't do it anymore.

It upsets me.

I'm going to have to punish you.

I said, look at me!

You were a naughty girl, Jackie, sending
me all those messages.

What messages?

Even yesterday, in the bank, right under
his nose.

But I know your little game, pleasing
me, playing hard to get.

Girls play those sorts of games, don't
they? Just to drive a man wild.

Well, you can't get away with it
forever, Jackie.

Sooner or later, you've got to pay the
price.

All right, mate.

Don't shoot.

You deceived Ryan. It's okay.

Why did you do it, Jackie?

Why did you...

There seem to be so many coincidences.

You coming to stay in the village just
when it all started. The fact that you'd

once taken Jackie out, the flowers.

And, well, I'm afraid I

jumped to conclusions.

And then to come round here and lose my
temper. Well, there was no excuse. I'm

very sorry.

I'm sorry if I landed you in it with
your sergeant.

Oh, Constable, I don't know if Anthony's
asked you, but I hope you'll come

tomorrow. And your wife. My husband
always thought the local police were

excellent.

Oh, well, thank you very much.

You're a lucky man.

I'd have married her like a shot, but
she wasn't interested.

Do come tomorrow.

Mother would like it.

Thank you.

So what's going to happen to him?

He'll be held in custody, pending
psychiatric reports.

Well, a lot of things can get back to
normal, eh?

Sorry I made such a fuss about Anthony.

Not that there's a problem, now that
I've met him. I mean, come on, those are

the choice between him and me.

Well, there's no contest, really, is
there?

It takes one to know one. David, do me a
favour. If you think of any other not

-so -bright ideas, keep them to your
flaming self.

No.

Heartbeat, what do you miss when my baby
kisses me?

Why does that love chip play in my
memory?