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- Are you sure... - Yes.

Why am I always the last one to find out everything?

- Find out what? - Mr Draper's run

the stock order.

I didn't even get a look at it.

Well, you've just told me.

So, technically,

now I'm the last one to find out.

This is the final straw.

Hop it, you lot.

Come on.

I mean, I'm sure it's just an oversight.

He promised me a say in our summer range.

I've always wanted to.

Dotty says I've got an eye for it.

He ignored you on purpose?

Do you have any evidence?

It's not a police case, Geordie.

No.

But if you're gonna jack in a job you've spent six years

toiling at...

and being brilliant at...

...you'd better be sure.

Besides, you probably ordered all the stuff you like anyway.

- Hello. - Boss.

Body's been found.

Young lady on the common.

Next time, we should bring a picnic.

Next time?

I mean, if you want to.

Would you let me drive?

- Drive Pep. - The car has a name?

Of course the car has a name.

And you driving...

Well, it would depend.

On what?

On what you've bought for this swap.

- Mmm. - I will be judging.

Then you first.

Have you read it?

Been meaning to. A wholesome story of

a promising young lady that's actually quite racy.

- Mmm. - It's made you think of me?

- No. No, not like that. - Why ever not?

Here you are.

This is the one about the asylum?

Yes. Cooped up with the crazies.

A village vicar might relate.

That was fun. Thanks, Pep.

You sure I can't drop you home?

I really do fancy the walk.

I mean, you could come in if you wanted.

I shouldn't.

No.

I should go home.

Yeah, well, those books won't lend themselves.

Exactly.

Oh, God.

Oh.

Oh, my God. Oh, God.

- My Lord. - Reverend Kottaram.

Dad?

Dad.

I was going to mention it.

What have we got, Larry?

Dog walker found her this morning.

We're investigating traffic accidents now?

It's a bit of a conundrum, boss.

A conundrum? You like to use that many syllables?

I'm trying to better myself. For Jennifer.

Miss Scott.

Yeah, I know who Jennifer is, Larry.

- What's the conundrum? - No sign of the scooter's key.

Uniform searched everywhere.

She couldn't drive it without one.

So how did she fairly ride into a tree when

she couldn't even start the engine?

Plus, grass and mud marks on the scooter,

but none on the girl.

Reckon it's been staged.

You run the plates yet?

Still waiting on it.

I've got her ID, though.

"Christina Parsons."

- Student at Newnham, too. - Says that in her licence?

Her scarf.

You might want to brush up on your college colours next.

Sorry, boss. Figured it was part of her mod look.

- The what look? - Kids on scooters.

Sharp clothes.

- Amphetamines. - Another bloody gang.

Anything else in the bag?

Some kind of writing on the inside.

That's a coin ring.

A dollar.

"In God we trust."

Mark on her finger.

She's been wearing it on and off for a while.

"Being and Nothingness."

Sounds like the contents of my wallet.

- You read it? - No.

But I know a man who might have.

I'm fully aware of your reputation.

And my daughter is not some conquest to be added

to your tally.

Alphy!

- Psst. - This is simply

intolerable behaviour.

And your ignorance is not an excuse.

What's happening?

Is this behaviour fitting for a man of the cloth?

Oh, hello.

- Meg, isn't it? - Hello again.

Miss Gray is the bishop's daughter.

The bishop's...

Your reputation...

Oh. Oh.

- What brings you here? - Oh, just at a loose end.

Margaret!

We're going.

Sorry.

You'll be wanting a brandy.

The back seat of a Triumph is no place to deflower

a daughter of the cloth.

Daughter of the cloth is not a real phrase, Mrs C.

And there was no deflowering.

I've told you, there are plenty of eligible women here

in the village.

Please, not now.

Be a dear and get that,

would you?

- The bishop's daughter. - I didn't know.

Bit early for me, I think.

It's Geordie.

I can tell you exactly what he's going to say.

- You sly old dog. - Don't.

I really liked her.

But how can it work now?

I'll trade your romantic crisis for an existential one.

Boss, the scooter wasn't registered

in Christina Parsons' name.

It's owned by a Peter Grayson.

A boyfriend, perhaps?

You can ask him yourself.

We just brought him in.

Mr Grayson's been here before.

Peter Grayson.

You're a janitor at the university laboratory.

That where you met Christina Parsons?

Chrissy, yeah.

Can't believe she's gone. I saw her last night.

You loaned her your scooter?

She'd borrowed it to nip up to the lab and finish some work.

I had a rice pudding waiting for her.

What time was this?

About half eight.

She was staying with you?

She'd drop over sometimes.

Was she your girlfriend?

I guess.

We hadn't done anything, but she liked hanging out.

A posh, pretty college girl was just hanging out

- round your flat. - Yeah.

Yeah, look, she liked the scene.

She probably wouldn't have said two words to me in my overalls,

but she saw me in my suit down The Mitre and we got chatting.

Spent nights and nights poring over that jukebox,

swapping records at the lab.

Did you give her this?

No.

Never seen it before.

What about this book?

Yeah.

Said she wanted to know what being a mod was about.

Well, you're the first gang I've come across

with its own reading list.

Well, Sartre says most people spend their whole lives

not realising they're doing exactly what's expected of them.

And instead they should do what? Buy a scooter?

You're a gang.

And gangs always get violent.

And we've had you in here before for brawling.

I didn't start that.

You didn't stop it either.

So maybe you and Chrissy fell out.

- You threw a punch. - Never.

Or maybe a rival gang came for you

and she got caught in between.

She was at the lab last night.

That's where you should look.

You think another student did this?

All I know is there's a bloody shark tank in there.

- Thank you. - You're welcome, sir.

Porter saw Chrissy last night.

She arrived before 9:00, left after 10:00.

- It was definitely her? - Mmm.

Wearing the helmet and pushing the scooter.

She was a researcher for a Professor Aldo.

These results show that mutations in proteins

and DNA accumulate over time, and the rate at which

they accumulate is not random,

but actually relatively constant,

- as you can see from this table. - Professor Aldo?

Er, you're early. He's in here next.

Do you mind if we wait?

As I was saying, the results show the number of differences

between human and gorilla haemoglobin chains

is measurable, which suggests a sequence

of mutations away from a common chain ancestor.

You are to retract this at once.

Please, Clarence, I'm not finished.

You will be finished if you cannot demonstrate

your proof.

- Professor Aldo? - Not now.

Let's call it a day here, everyone.

The results are all in my paper.

It shouldn't have been published.

Your jealousy is very unbecoming.

- Get off my arm! - You will ruin this

- for all of us, you know. - Because I'm a woman.

The frontiers of science are not pushed back by people like you.

- Stupid old pig! - Ah!

- Damn you! - Let's all calm down.

I'll see you thrown out for this.

Enough!

Thing's got a little heated in there.

That man really can be quite a prick.

You know, he thinks the genetic differences between

the races and sexes will prove a pecking order.

You don't agree.

With a man who's never been further than Peterborough,

a limited data set and a limited mind.

Real science is about dreaming the impossible.

Very poetic.

And what exactly is it you've been dreaming?

My current fascination, which also happens to be

Aldo's fascination, is with the molecular clock theory.

That we can deduce the point in time two species diverged

based on markers in their biology.

I can explain it to you. I cannot understand it for you.

Unlike Joshi, I'm not reckless with my proclamations.

Science is built on verifiable data.

- Evidence leads theory. - Precisely.

She published in a rush.

Clarence sat on his results, checking and rechecking.

Now he's stewing in his room while I've got a faculty dinner

tonight in my honour.

So publishing first is a big deal.

With the right paper, a man could make faculty chair

- in a few years. - Or a woman.

Chrissy Parsons died on her way home from here last night.

She was a researcher of yours.

It's a truly terrible loss.

We believe Chrissy was here at the lab between 8:30

and 10:00 p.m.

Where were you?

I'd have been reading in my rooms.

Were you aware that Chrissy was in with a gang of mods?

That spivvy janitor?

He was a distraction, a dalliance.

You don't think she was serious about him?

Oh, no, not at all.

No, the real damaging influence here is Professor Joshi.

- Too keen, too ambitious. - Too Indian?

I was alone last night preparing for this morning's lecture.

- Am I a suspect? - Just throwing out ideas.

Hmm. Well, here's one for you.

You've seen Aldo's attitude towards women.

Maybe Chrissy got a bit too uppity for his liking.

He said you were too ambitious.

My only ambition is to get a fair shake at this

without being shoved aside for not fitting in.

Maybe you can understand that.

Was there anyone else Chrissy was working with?

I got in on a scholarship.

I didn't realise how overwhelming it'd be.

- The rules, the cliques. - You knew Chrissy Parsons?

Yeah. She was brilliant.

I never met anyone like her back home.

There was no conflict?

What with you being on Joshi's team and her on Aldo's?

Stuck here all hours. There's no point making it

a race. I'd help her with practical kit.

She'd help me.

It makes sense of life here.

Pretty lass like that. Taking you under her wing.

You must have been sweet on her.

Everybody was.

You recognise this ring?

Yeah, she used to wear it.

You were here last night?

Uh, collecting results in the lab.

I saw Chrissy come in at about 9:00,

checking Aldo's electrophoresis and chromatography tests.

She left after an hour, and I didn't stay much after.

You saw her leave?

Was she worried? Upset?

She'd been fighting with her boyfriend.

The mod fella.

Terry's story checks out.

Chrissy Parsons wheeled Peter Grayson's scooter

out of here just after 10:00.

She's then found dead in the woods early this morning.

And Aldo and Joshi have no alibi?

Mm-hmm.

Mr Grayson?

Nor does our janitor.

Too many suspects, not enough clues.

Right, come on.

Pathologist's report will be in.

It can't have been easy for Joshi,

working alongside that bigot.

Well, at least the world's changing.

I wouldn't have had her here back when I was a kid.

Nor you in the Vicarage.

That's gotta count for something.

Yeah.

But being the first Indian face anywhere,

it's like another label to stick on you.

Sartre called labels a way to avoid responsibility.

Take them away and... Who are we, really?

What's left underneath?

A fella in the nuddy?

The cause of death was a head trauma.

The tree?

Pathologist suggests a flat surface.

A hard table or floor, maybe?

Porter said he saw her leaving in her helmet like a jockey.

She wasn't wearing it when she bashed her head.

You'd expect more blood on the parka and all,

but it's clean.

Could she have been dressed in it after she was killed?

There are puncture wounds here, all over her shoulder.

And across her back. Two neat to be from the tree.

And nothing matches on the scooter.

Here's that paperwork you wanted.

Thank you, Miss Scott.

Boss, wait!

Larry?

Mmm?

Well, what's this?

That's not supposed to be in there.

Christ on a bike, Larry.

Oh, Larry.

- What did it say? - Nothing a vicar should hear.

It won't last.

And then it'll be me who has to deal with these big,

sad puppy dog eyes for weeks on end.

Speaking of doomed romances, how do you fancy some

new reading material?

Since you no longer have any plans for tonight.

Ah, I'll consider it.

- What's in it? - Joshi's published paper.

Chrissy's notebooks.

And old files of Aldo's.

"Heterogeneity and molecular evolution through haemoglobin."

Yeah, simply rolls off the tongue.

Hang on.

Professor Aldo mentions an interest in numismatics.

Most fellas like a new miss.

That was bad. Even for you.

Numismatics.

He's into coins.

I share this fascination with Newton.

He was master of the mint, you know, after he studied here.

You must have a good eye for them.

- I like to think so. - Mm-hmm.

You recognise this one?

I think you made it.

For Chrissy Parsons.

I've seen these before.

Yanks stationed here used to make them for their sweethearts.

I studied at Berkeley in the '40s, learned there.

It requires older coins, higher silver content, you see.

Were you having an affair with Chrissy Parsons, Professor?

That's not what happened.

Beautiful girl, working closely over long hours and late nights.

- It's not hard to imagine. - You're making it sound seedy.

You're a married man and she's half your age.

But it wasn't some grubby tryst.

How long had it been going on?

Six months.

A little more.

Mmm.

You knew about Peter Grayson?

The janitor.

She took pity on him like tending an injured bird.

And you didn't think any of this was pertinent to the case?

It had nothing to do with her death.

But it had everything to do with your standing.

Hoping you shine bright enough to be the faculty chair,

when the truth is, your reputation's

already tarnished.

Maybe you didn't shrug off the mod lad so easily.

Maybe you told her to leave him, or maybe... she left you.

Either way, we've seen it doesn't take much for you

to get angry and physical with a woman.

I did nothing wrong.

A man in a position of power seducing a younger woman

- sounds pretty wrong to me. - Did you kill her?

No, I bloody did not!

Your alibi is unverifiable.

Your affair is a damaging secret.

You had every reason to want to control Chrissy.

I'd say the evidence is leading the theory one way.

No, Inspector.

Just because I can't prove I was in my rooms last night

doesn't mean you can place me at the scene of the crime.

He's right.

Look, Peter didn't seem to know about her affair with Aldo.

Maybe he was the one who found her and snapped.

And he's short an alibi.

We still need to find the keys to that scooter.

And what made the marks on Chrissy's shoulder and back.

The answer lies somewhere between the lab and where

she was found on the common.

Come on.

Larry, put this back with Chrissy Parsons'

- personal effects. - Boss.

See if you can find that student, Terry.

I'm gonna take a look around outside.

Oh, hi, Mr Kottaram.

Can I take a look around?

Hey!

Off you go, Paddy.

Go on, see ya, Paddy.

- That's it. Keep on walking. - Bye, Terry.

Does this happen a lot?

Often enough to remind me of my place.

Chrissy used to stop them, but now...

Back to being an outsider.

You're in the building, but you're not in the club.

Yeah.

But now you've helped Professor Joshi publish.

Surely it'll lead to fortune and glory?

I'm just hoping for a paid job.

It'd make a bigger difference to my family

than a tiny citation in a journal.

Back again, Mr Kottaram?

Trying to understand the rivalries and politics

in the lab.

How Chrissy fitted in here.

Like a glove.

The whole family are Oxbridge to the bone.

Hmm. It wasn't as easy for you.

No easier than for a convert to the church, I imagine.

I'm not a convert.

I chose this.

I grew up with it.

Bible stories before bed every night.

And you think that what the church has made you into,

that's true to who you really are?

This is who I am.

It doesn't get more quintessentially British

than the vicar of a quaint little village.

You'll tell me next that your police friend

accepts you too.

That's not fair.

Geordie's a good man.

He's using you.

Walking around with a handsome Indian vicar,

everyone assuming he's moral and accepting

and not the fist of the status quo.

Now you're judging.

Raised by the church, seeing the world through

their eyes.

You trust all the wrong people.

And your sari's in the wash, is it?

I wish you could see how much you've been skewed.

Alphy?

What have you got?

There's blood outside the lab window.

And I double-checked the porter's logs.

Someone else was in there last night.

Peter Grayson.

Peter.

Oi!

We just want to talk.

Yeah.

Well, look at that. Keys to the scooter.

A pretty serious talk.

I didn't put the keys there.

What, someone planted them in your bag?

On a shift, bags go in the staff room.

Anyone could have sneaked in.

You told us you were at home last night.

You're waiting for Chrissy with a bowl of rice pudding.

You lied.

Did you know Chrissy was having an affair with Professor Aldo?

So Chrissy went to the college on your bike.

- You followed, attacked her. - No.

Probably in a jealous rage, dragged her body out

of the window, laid her out on the common.

It was one of those posh bastards.

They think they're untouchable, better than ordinary people.

You were always an outsider.

Exactly.

Then why were you there last night?

I was on a shift.

Peter, we checked your rota.

Fine. I was...

I was in the library.

Bollocks you were.

"This preservation of favourable variations

"and the rejection of injurious variations

"I call natural selection."

Darwin.

Origin of the Species, Chapter 4, page 81.

I'm not allowed in the library. I could lose my job over it.

I've been studying for weeks now.

I wanted to impress Chrissy.

The college librarian confirmed she signed out

a batch of biology books to a man matching

Peter Grayson's description last night.

So he is telling the truth.

It's quite a conundrum.

So maybe the killer's trying to frame Peter.

Mmm. And we're no closer to catching them.

Come in.

I've been thinking on it all day.

On what?

Well, on you.

All day at work, round and round in my head,

and I am so sorry about this morning.

I should have said something sooner.

When were you going to tell me?

I don't know.

I was seeing how things went.

So you were stringing me along, or was it just to piss off

your father?

What are you talking about?

A year ago, he almost had me ousted from here because of...

Well, because of who I am, where I'm from.

I didn't know that. I had no idea.

A man like me dating his daughter,

you didn't think that would be at the least...

extremely awkward?

- I am not my father, Alphy. - No.

But I can't trust either of you.

I see.

Alphy?

- Meg. - Well, goodbye.

Oh, sorry.

Am I disturbing?

No.

Not at all.

I wondered if you might care to join me at the pictures.

Take your mind off things.

It's either A Kind of Loving with that lovely Alan Bates,

or Carry on Cruising.

Not tonight, I'm afraid.

- I've got homework. - Oh.

Of course.

What is it?

Science papers.

One of Geordie's cases.

Now, I thought I'd grasped the basics,

but Dickens has a better shot at understanding this.

May I?

Mmm.

- Oh, dear. - Escape to your movie.

There must be a million other things you could do tonight.

To be honest, I just wanted a night away

from the halfway house.

- And with Daniel absent... - Then make yourself at home.

I've made samosas.

Oh.

It's a slightly sad attempt at trying to prove something

to myself.

An identity crisis on a plate.

It tastes better with one of these.

Oh, I won't.

Could I trouble you for a sherry?

Okay, Cathy, here we are

with the Swinnerton summer season.

Off we go, then.

These are the best ones.

Smile, Dora.

It's hardly haute couture, is it?

- None of these are cool. - They're so boring.

Nonsense.

That's a very pleasant shade of brown.

These are bad, Sylvia.

Last time I saw whirl-a-ways like that, we were rationing.

Mr Draper's picked nothing new.

He knows people like what people like.

People like choice.

They'd buy new styles if we offered them.

Like in Carnaby Street.

This one is itching me something rotten.

- So order better stuff. - Oh, I wish.

I'm not in charge, am I?

That's been made perfectly clear.

You'd do a much better job, Mum.

You're struggling too?

My mind keeps wandering.

Is it to do with this or the bishop's daughter?

It's both.

I had a run-in with Professor Madhu Joshi today.

I thought we connected.

Both outsiders working with people who didn't want us there.

But she turned on me.

She made out I was a naive, white-pleasing sellout.

What nonsense.

Being used by Geordie, being used by the church.

She's just bitter.

People get twisted out of shape

pretending to be something they're not.

Before Daniel, I got engaged to a woman.

You can imagine how that ended.

Mmm.

But then I lashed out at Meg.

Accused her of using me to annoy her father.

Ah, that's what that was.

You don't really think that?

I know I don't trust her father.

I'm not particularly fond of him either.

But be careful you're not tarring Meg

with the same brush.

Sometimes the apple escapes the tree.

Did you get that capacity for compassion from your parents?

I suppose sometimes you get the best,

and sometimes they hand down their flaws

and throw in some new ones for good measure.

Ignore me.

I'm just mad at Daniel and all his family nonsense.

Hmm.

Besides, the finest minds in Cambridge

are wrestling with these very questions.

How are we to know?

You want to trade?

Mix it up?

Sure.

And I'll fetch us another.

No, wait. I've...

I've already seen these.

You can't have. I thought you gave it to me first.

Geordie, I found something.

Leonard and I have been trying to make sense of this

all evening.

You know you only read the start and the end?

You didn't read the whole thing, did you?

It was very insightful.

Look at these two pages.

The handwriting on the margins, it's different.

No, no. Look at the numbers.

These are Professor Aldo's figures,

and these are Professor Joshi's.

They're exactly the same.

We need to talk to Professor Joshi.

Professor?

Get out.

What's going on here?

I'm working. It's what it takes.

I think she needs water.

I'll get it.

I'm fine.

Stop being used by him.

- Geordie. - What?

This is a DNA model, but it's been broken.

- Stupid test. - Easy.

I didn't notice this before, but I've been looking at

this shape all night.

So, a model's been broken.

Broken by a fight?

Something made puncture wounds in Chrissy Parsons' back

and arm.

I'm no academic,

but if you'd humour me, Professor,

I'd like to present the results of my own research.

Starts two nights ago, when Chrissy Parsons was killed

in the laboratory.

The blood on the DNA model and the puncture marks

on her arm and back attest to that.

I had nothing to do with her death.

The porter thought he saw Chrissy leave.

Likely, it was the killer in Chrissy's parka and helmet

to make it appear that the murder happened off campus.

They went back, removed her body through the window,

then wheeled the scooter across

the common and ran it into a tree.

Left her body beside it to suggest an accident.

Yeah, they were clever, too.

If we didn't buy the accident, they had the keys

to plant on Peter Grayson.

Please, get to your point.

I reckon someone as smart as you can see where this is going.

This salt of the earth routine is most tiring.

The endless class war.

You love taking people apart, don't you?

From their DNA to their personalities.

Pick, pick, pick.

I must have really touched a nerve with you yesterday.

See, the thing is, everything you picked at me for...

Well, I think that was really about you.

Always insecure.

Always an outsider.

You've no idea. You're a man.

You never had to question what you were giving up.

Or maybe... I really am comfortable being

a quintessential English vicar.

Whereas the harder you try to fit in pretending to

be something you're not,

the more you hated it.

The only murder you can pin on me is for

the little Indian girl I was with a thick accent

who wore bright saris and ran barefoot in the sunshine.

She was the sacrifice to put me here.

Why were you at the lab last night

and not at a fancy dinner?

Something more important came up.

These are your published results.

And this is Chrissy's record of Professor Aldo's experiments.

I might just be a salt of the earth copper,

but those numbers look very similar to me.

Odd.

Particularly as Aldo's experiments

are dated before yours.

You said he sat on his own results for too long.

Maybe he sat just long enough for you to steal them

and publish first.

I got the jump on him.

I knew if he could prove it, I'd get there too.

But then yesterday, he confronted you.

He guessed what you'd done.

That would give you enough reason

to try and replicate

those results in your own desperate experiment.

That's what you were doing at the lab last night.

But I couldn't replicate them.

Plagiarism ends careers.

If Chrissy found out what you did,

well, that would give you a reason to kill her.

Did you murder Chrissy Parsons?

No. I did not.

- We've got to get back, Larry. - Another minute.

I've got work to do, and so do you.

Wait.

Look at that, just up ahead.

Have a seat.

No, I'm going. You're acting strange.

What's this?

Jenny, look.

What have you hidden there?

That's a shilling.

Jennifer.

Oh, my God, Larry Peters, you are not doing this again.

Don't say anything.

Hear me out.

I've met a lot of people on this job.

- I never expected to... - We can't.

We talked about this last year.

Yeah, but that was because we... You know, the once.

But now we've done it lots.

If we get married, I'll have to resign.

Exactly how many married women do you see working at

the station?

That's all right.

You'd have your hands full with a baby in a year.

Raise your own bloody baby.

Do you really think I'm just going to retire

to mother a brood or be a housewife?

It's just not who I am.

I had it all planned.

First dance.

My speech.

I love you.

I love you too.

I'm so sorry.

These notes in Chrissy's margins,

they don't match Aldo's handwriting.

So why have you brought him in?

Well, maybe Chrissy leaked the results and he found out.

It's worth a shot.

Really, Inspector, this constant harassment is unforgivable.

Caught you, did they, little thief?

How did you do it?

I couldn't get my X-ray diffractions

anywhere near your numbers.

Clarence, how did you...

You didn't get them.

This way, is it?

You faked your results.

- You lied. - But I didn't publish.

So neither of them actually made a discovery.

Be a shame if the faculty learned

Aldo has been falsifying results.

Some days you push the frontiers of science,

some days they push back.

Are you okay?

You were right about me.

Every day was a compromise.

I'm sorry. I really am.

And all of it for nothing.

All of it staked on that paper, and now it's gone.

Insecurity.

People lash out when they're insecure,

when they risk losing everything.

Come again?

Who else staked their future on Joshi's paper?

Professor Joshi told you all to dream the impossible.

But then she put you in an impossible situation.

She asked you to steal Professor Aldo's results.

No, I'd never do that.

Breaking and entering, maybe not.

How about sneaking a look when helping his researcher

with her practicals and essays?

That's your handwriting in the margins of

Chrissy Parsons' notebook.

Helping her out as you copied her numbers.

She'd have no idea.

At least not until Joshi got cocky and published.

Without even verifying or tweaking the results.

Chrissy must have been really angry when she realised

- you'd betrayed her. - Not just angry.

My guess is vicious too.

Because you're an outsider in that world.

Chrissy wouldn't know how hard it's been for you to go there

because it was never hard for her.

Everyone thought she was this... brilliant, lovely girl,

but it was skin deep.

She turned.

Said I didn't belong.

Called me a peasant.

A prole.

She was gonna tell my family, my dad, they'd know.

And you couldn't let that happen.

They've sacrificed everything for me.

So I'll be able to do well.

Pull us all up a rung.

But rather than face their disappointment,

you killed Chrissy Parsons.

What happened, Terry?

I just...

I didn't mean to...

You pushed her into the DNA model.

Then threw her to the floor.

The table.

She hit her head and that was it.

She was gone.

Hello.

Who's playing that racket?

What the hell are you playing at?

Get that off.

You're not a bloody girl.

I'm looking for some books.

No books here. Not for you.

Fair enough.

But can I say, I am so sorry for yesterday.

I really am.

Things have been difficult between me and your dad,

and it's made me a little insecure.

But if you didn't know any of that...

I really didn't.

Then I was very wrong to lash out.

And to assume the worst.

Alphy, maybe we just...

I really am looking for some books.

Well, I've got a list.

The Grapes of Wrath.

What was that one?

It's your list, The Grapes of Wrath.

Mm-hmm.

What's the next one?

The Catcher in the Rye.

The Catcher in the Rye. Great book.

But you need to follow it up with something

a bit more, you know, upbeat.

Green Eggs and Ham.

Okay, well, these...

Now, these will turn green if we wait too long, so...

What on earth have you done?

I owed you a picnic.

- Do you have a drink as well? - Mm-hmm.

There is some Under Milk Wood in here.

Somewhere.

Huh.

Okay, this is sweet.

This doesn't have to be the end.

What exactly did you have in mind?

Come over for dinner.

- I'll cook. - A date?

Mmm, let's call it an apology.

Oh, I'll be calling it Great Expectations.

Don't let me down again, Mr Kottaram.