All language subtitles for Grantchester.S02E02.HDTV.MORiTZ.en

- He's young, he's fit...
- He's good looking.

Easy... I suppose he is.

So, what's the catch, I hear you ask?

Well, I'll tell you.

Jazz, it's a bloody racket.

But if you can put up
with that, he's a keeper.

I don't care for modern music.

It's the devil's work, if you ask me.

How did you say you knew each other?

I was the barmaid at Geordie's old local,

weren't I, Keatsy?

And of course the
drinking will have to stop.

I prefer a little bit
of music hall myself.

You know, Max Miller, Marie Lloyd.

♪ And suppose it makes you fat

♪ Well, I don't worry about that

♪ Cos a little of what
you fancy does you good ♪

I love jazz. Have you
heard of Sidney Bechet?

Sidney bloody Beckett!

A friend of mine's band is
playing some of his pieces

on Jesus Green tomorrow,
if you'd like to join me?

I'm afraid I'm busy tomorrow.

You came.

How are you?

I thought that everybody hated me.

Of course they don't, Gary.

You're awfully kind, but I
wouldn't want the village thinking

you're taking my side over theirs.

There are no sides, Mrs Bell.

Sidney!

I don't know where
Geordie finds these women.

They're either drunks or nuns.

Imagine what they're saying about you!

Well, I think it's wonderful
that you're out there.

It is time you found someone for yourself.

Listen, there's a fair on
Midsummer Common this weekend.

I thought we could go to the
new Velasquez exhibition...

Sidney, Guy's only away
for a couple of days.

I'm staying at home. My father
will expect to see me at some point.

Bring him along. You
know how much he likes me.

Mr Chambers!

Inspector Keating on the telephone.

Hello, Mrs Maguire!

Mrs Hopkins.

I'll be in Cambridge later
on. We can meet for a coffee.

And maybe some Velasquez
if it's not too late.

Mr Chambers!

Inspector Keating said it was urgent.

My God, what's happened?

The body's a mess, I think he jumped.

So, how can I help?

Valentine Lyall, 46.

- Suicide?
- Yeah, I think so.

I was hoping you might know him.
He was a fellow at Corpus Christi.

It's your old college, wasn't it?

It must've been after my time.

The porters say there's
a staircase to the roof.

Then it's hand and foot
if he went any higher.

He could've been night climbing.

We used to do it as students.

Maybe he fell?

Blood's dry. Must've happened
in the middle of the night.

- So?
- If I fell from there, I'd be screaming blue murder.

Sure one of this lot would've
heard it sooner than that.

He didn't scream.

- Val? -
Mya! - Val?

- Stop, wait! -
Val? - Hold on!

- Mya!
- I'm sorry.

- This is my husband.
- No.

- Get off me!
- No. - Val!

- Stop this.
- I have a right to see him!

I'm not letting you
see him! It's all right!

Look, I'm sorry. He's in
no condition to be seen.

Do you understand?

I'm sorry.

We were drinking in the
Maypole until around ten...

and then we said goodbye on Sidney Street.

The first I heard anything was wrong
was when Mya telephoned the college

around 2 am. We were
looking for him all night.

Val always told me if
he was going to be late.

- And he didn't say anything about going climbing?
- No.

But it was a clear night.

That's when you get the best views.

He was always doing it.

- Mum!
- Tala, go to your room.

I'll be up in a moment.

Vicar?

Er... yes, thanks.

- Phwoar!
- Sorry, they're menthol filtered, from London.

- So, you were one of his students?
- No. I'm a linguist.

But I am at Corpus.

- We were friends.
- Val loved Kit.

He's part of the family.

Please.

Thank you.

- What is it?
- Lahpet.

You were in Burma?

Valentine too. That's where we met.

Do you think it's possible Valentine
could've taken his own life?

No. No!

- He was happy.
- He was fine in the pub.

- No note, anything like that?
- I know this is a lot to take in.

We'll do everything we can to
get to the bottom of this for you.

Do you mind if we go through his things?

You never talk about Burma.

Don't you think it's odd that
a bloke could be so tidy, hm?

There's no dirty underwear, no loose ends.

Like it's already been cleaned up.

I don't think she's hiding anything.

And Bartlett?

He cares about Lyall, all right.

Friends?

20-year age gap?

You could say the same thing about us.

What, 20 years? You wish.

Anyway, you're not my type.

Maybe he's just neat.

Nosebleeds.

Happens a lot with climbers.

The thinner air at altitude
dries out your sinuses.

Can I help in any way?

Where did you go when you
parted ways last night?

Back to college.

I had a drink with Dr
Raban, my Russian tutor.

Had some rather good vodka.

If it was suicide maybe Lyall
left a note in his study.

- We should check.
- Mr Chambers?

Hello, Frank.

- What's the secret?
- Secret, sir?

To eternal youth?

Oh, that would be the scotch, sir.

If only.

Frank Archer, Head Porter,

this is Inspector Geordie Keating.

I take it this is about poor Mr Lyall?

We'd like to see his room, please.

You'll need to speak to the Master.

He'll be pleased to see you, sir.

Inspector!

- Chambers.
- Sir.

Lyall never struck me
as the suicidal type,

but you can never tell.

He was a charming man,

gifted professor of English.

Although, sadly, as fond of
the bar as he was the bard.

You would've got on.

He could be immature, irresponsible.

I mean, this childish penchant

for dare devilry with a family at home.

They must feel so abandoned.

All right, there's nothing here.

Think we can move on.

And what is your role here anyway?

Has the clergy widened its remit?

Or are you just sticking your
nose in where you shouldn't again?

What did you do? Piss in his port?

Something like that.

Nowhere near.

So he must've come off the turret?

- Exactly.
- Go on then, Phil.

I'm not going up there.

The Porters hire specialist
cleaners. They'll be here Monday.

It's a nice view. Not sure
I'd risk my neck for it though.

I suppose it's tradition.

Pushing your limits, beating the night.

It's stupid really, but it
makes sense when you're young.

But he was 46,

with a wife and child.

- Ever heard of EM Forster?
- Hm? Who's he play for?

He wrote A Room With A View.

I didn't realise looking out
of one's window was a crime.

It isn't. But withholding evidence is.

I already told you, I didn't see anything.

The man who died had a wife and child.

They deserve to know the truth.

Nothing you say has to come back to you.

Does it?

No.

It was late, around midnight.

I didn't see any faces, all right?

I was working on my dissertation.

'But I looked out to see
two men climbing the chapel.

Maniacs.'

But they stopped a while.

Talking, I think.

Then the next time I looked out...

He'd pushed him.

He must've been so scared.

Professor Raban?

Zakhodi.

A fascist and a papist, to
what do we owe the pleasure?

- C of E, actually.
- Please excuse Mr Crompton.

- He's going through a Marxist phase.
- It's not a phase.

We're investigating the
death of your colleague.

I hear it was an accident.

So everyone seems keen to stress.

Can you tell me where you were
around midnight last night?

I was here with a student
of mine, Kit Bartlett.

- Any witnesses?
- I'm sure the porters can confirm that.

We were going through his dissertation

on the theme of duality in
19th century Russian Literature.

Really is rather fascinating.

Yes, sir. Mr Bartlett
returned around half past ten,

went straight to Professor Raban.

You're sure?

I can still remember Mr Chambers
coming back at all hours.

Did Lyall have any disputes
or enemies you knew of?

No, sir. Mr Lyall was very popular.

I'd like to have another look in his room.

Even though it's been cleaned up,

there's got to be something out of place.

Like a fire in the middle of a hot spell?

What do you think they are?

Something someone didn't want us to see.

- Hey!
- Who's that?

She was at the crime scene. The chapel.

Excuse me!

I'm a police officer.

Don't walk away from me!

Split up. We lose each other,

meet back at the station.

Amanda?

- Everything all right?
- Absolutely.

How are you?

Come with me.

Who are you?

Leave this alone, old boy.

You're out of your depth.

I'm sure he won't mind if you wait.

Margaret Ward, by the way.

Oh, I'm sorry. Amanda Kendall.

Hopkins, nee Kendall. Pleasure.

Come in, why don't you?

Did you catch her?

- Mrs Hopkins.
- Sorry, Geordie.

Sidney filled me in on the case.

Did he now? No, I lost her.

How's your husband?

Oh, Guy's fine. He's... he's
working in Edinburgh for a few days.

While the cats away, eh?

The mouse will visit her father.

Indeed.

I hear you're playing cupid?

Er, trying, yeah. But he's a hard target

and I'm running out of arrows, so, er...

You can think of anyone?

Er...

I'll take you out. I'm
free tomorrow night.

Erm, well, that's...

very charitable of you, but, er...

We can't get a babysitter.

He doesn't need a chaperone,
does he, Mrs Hopkins?

No, of course not.

Excellent. I'll book the same
place he's been taking you.

See you then.

Inspector Keating, may
I have a word with you?

In private?

The fact is sometimes people

need protecting from themselves.

Which is why I must ask you

to stop investigating this case.

Lyall was in intelligence.

He was closing in on the identity of a man

known only as the Tsar,

a high-ranking mole
based in the University.

He's been passing our secrets
to the Soviets for years.

We believe...

that's why they had Lyall killed.

I can't tell you any more without
compromising our operation,

but that's why you need
to disentangle yourself...

.. without arousing further suspicion.

Not least in Chambers.

He's not a man to be trusted.

Sidney is one of the most
trustworthy people I know.

Well, if that's what you believe,

then you'll want to keep him alive.

This is a dangerous business.

This is a murder investigation for
the Cambridgeshire Constabulary.

I've read your military record, Inspector.

You've suffered enough
in the line of duty.

And of course you wouldn't
want Esme, Ivy, Dora or David

to grow up without a father.

- How do you know their names?
- We know everything.

And so could the Soviets.

What was that about?

Ah, you know, keeping things discreet,

- the reputation of the college.
- Well, I know what this is.

What?

We shouldn't be in here.

Nobody visits half these rooms.

- I used to nap in here.
- Oh, yeah.

You know this could be nothing.

Nine... three... five...

M-E-S.

Strange choice for an English Tutor.

Professor Raban.

Rory Crompton.

This is Lyall's handwriting.

The Tsar? Lyall was...

some sort of... British spy.

These are here for a reason,

so someone may need to reference them,

so we need to put them back
exactly where we found them.

Sidney!

There's always been rumours
about this kind of thing,

- but after Burgess and Maclean...
- Keep your voice down.

Why?

You've got visitors.

May I help you, Gentlemen?

I was on the chapel roof
with Mr Lyall last night.

I know how he died.

I ran into him on Kings' Parade.

He asked me if I wanted to go climbing

and I said no at first.

Valentine was always trying to
recruit students to his hijinks.

I told him it was irresponsible.

But he had this hipflask.

We sat on the backs, drinking

and he talked me round.

And you climbed Kings
Chapel? Just like that?

Well, he'd done it
before, I just followed.

And what about the lip?

Each turret, it has a lip.

How did you get over it?

It was hard going,

but we just pulled ourselves up.

- And then what?
- When we got to the top,

I don't know what happened.

He was looking out over the
edge and he must've slipped.

I tried to grab him, but I was too late.

The sound when he hit the ground was...

And why didn't you
contact the police sooner?

- I was scared.
- We'd think that you pushed him?

- I didn't!
- Surely with your beliefs,

killing an establishment figure
like Lyall could be seen as a...

a revolutionary act?

Mr Crompton's beliefs barely
stand the rigours of essay writing,

let alone murder.

What exactly are you
doing here, Professor?

All right, that's enough!

- You're letting them off the hook!
- I ask the questions here, not you.

So why aren't you asking them?

If they're Russian spies...

.. then we can't let
them know we're onto them.

They must already know, or they
wouldn't have offered up a lie.

We don't know it's a lie.

From a distance, in the dark,

it could've looked like he pushed him.

Come on. There is no way Crompton
climbed the chapel like that.

- How do you know?
- Because I've done it.

Without rope, two men
need to work together.

The first man stands on the other's
shoulders to get over the lip

and then pulls the other up.

They are trying to cover for someone.

Raban himself, the woman who we followed,

whoever this Tsar is in the files?

All right!

But if that's the case, we
can't just go blundering in.

So what do we do?

You need to leave it to me.

We all experience doubt from time to time.

Doubt in ourselves.

In God.

In justice.

But we must have faith...

.. in ourselves, each other,

God and...

.. and in institutions like...

the courts and the state to...

to get things right.

See you soon. Good singing!

- Sidney!
- Let me.

Thank you, Harding.

Maybe you should think about
going to another church.

- There aren't any steps at Hardwick.
- It's all right.

Leonard and I are happy
to help you in and out.

Then we'll go to Hardwick.

I am sorry, Mr Chambers.

Could you take me home now, please?

Of course.

What time's your chuffer coming?

It's 'chauffeur', Mrs M.

I told him to take his time.

Father's hosting rotary
drinks this evening.

Are you not wearing a tie?

I've been in a dog collar all day.

Do you not think he needs a tie, Mr Finch?

I have no idea what women want.

You look...

.. perfect.

- I'm not sure if I'm even gonna go.
- Oh, yes, you are.

You saw what happened this
morning with the Redmonds,

- the village need me.
- They'll always need you,

which is why you need a wife,
help you shoulder the burden.

Mrs Maguire's right.

Not that you need to marry Margaret.

I hear you're thinking of offering
Phyllis Bell private communion.

You have more spies than the KGB, Mrs M.

I'll go.

It's the victims the
church should be helping.

Mrs Bell is a victim.

As is Gary. Just like the Redmonds.

Sidney!

This is a copy of Val's Will.

I was hoping you might
help me with the funeral?

- He wanted to be cremated.
- Of course.

And I was wondering if you knew

what was happening with
the police investigation?

We understand Rory Crompton was up there?

That he's saying it was an accident?

It doesn't make sense.

Val never mentioned the
boy. Why climb with him?

I'm sure Inspector Keating is
doing everything in his power

- to ascertain the truth.
- Is he accepting Crompton's story or not?

Mya needs to know.

He brought Tala and
me here just last week.

He said it was... How did he put it?

'Quintessential England'.

In my religion, there is a place, yeah.

A perfect place like your heaven.

- Nirvana.
- Nirvana.

We had that here.

Why would he throw it away?

So, how come the other
dates didn't work out?

I don't know. Erm...

Just incompatible, I suppose.

You don't think you overwhelmed them

with charm and conversation?

- I'm sorry.
- It's all right.

I suppose I did launch myself at you.

No, it's not that.

Do you think Geordie's all right?

- What do you mean?
- This case,

it feels like he's been hanging back.

You know what he's like
normally, full steam ahead.

I'm just...

- worried about him.
- Have you tried asking him?

- Well, of course.
- I mean, really asking.

I've got brothers.

I know you boys would rather play
cards and joke about your privates

than have a proper conversation.

Backgammon. And I prefer
to keep my privates private.

Pity.

You know Inspector
Keating better than I do,

so if you think there's something
wrong then there probably is.

Well, go on then. We're not getting
anywhere with this on your mind

so you might as well go and see him.

What about you?

Just leave the wine.

Cathy said you're working
late, guessed you'd be in here.

- Margaret stand you up then?
- You can't blame her.

You dodged a bullet there, I reckon.

Backgammon?

- Any news on the Lyall case?
- Not yet.

- Are you all right?
- Of course I am.

- Slapping Mya Lyall.
- She was hysterical.

After letting Phil force
Gary to drink that water.

- Oh, that again?
- Ducking this case?

- I am not ducking anything!
- What are you doing then?

I had a visit from Mya.

She needs to know what's going on.

Her husband didn't even
tell her he was a spy.

What are we supposed to do?

Our jobs. I'm a clergyman, I'm
supposed to give her comfort.

And you are a policeman.

- Geordie...
- Montgomery told me to leave the case alone.

He knows Lyall was a spy.

He said the authorities
were looking into it.

- Why didn't you tell me?
- He asked me not to. For your own safety.

My safety's got nothing to do
with it, it is personal for him.

He's got a point. There are spies.

Soviets, reds under the bed.

This is bigger than us.

Fine.

Let's do our jobs.

- Where are we going?
- Back to the scene of the crime.

I don't know what else
we're going to see at night.

Nothing from down here.

Geordie!

That's far enough.

It's dark, you've been drinking.

- Just like Lyall.
- And look what happened to him.

Geordie!

Had you going there.

Give me your shoulder.

Ready.

One... two...

three!

Give me your hand.

Ready?

One... two...

three... Geordie!

Use your feet, I can't hold you!

You sure you're all right?

Beat the night, you said.

Push your limits.

- Geordie?
- You were right.

There's no way Crompton
climbed this like he said,

so who did?

You've really gotta know
the person you do this with.

Really trust them.

Kit Bartlett?

Kit Bartlett.

Frank?

Frank!

Police! Open up.

- We're here to speak to Kit Bartlett.
- Do you have a warrant?

Why would he shelter a murder suspect?

What if he's the Russian mole, the Tsar?

- Montgomery?
- That's why he tried to shut the case down.

- I only had his word.
- No, I've known him for years.

You trust him?

Is there no way to check?

Oh, telephone the MOD?

- Ask for a list of Russian spies in Cambridge?
- So, what do we do now?

- We need to tie him to Bartlett.
- How?

- You don't do anything.
- What are you talking about?

- It's too dangerous.
- He's the Master of a Cambridge college!

Working with who else, Sidney?

Bartlett? Raban?

Crompton? The woman?

No. If they wanted to hurt us,
they'd have done so already.

She had a gun.

That's why I lost her.

- Are you all right?
- If you ask me that one more time...

You've already been shot once, Geordie.

It's part of my job. Not yours.

So you just need to let me do it.

Please.

I'm asking you as a friend.

You go home.

So how was your dinner with Margaret?

I... I left early.

- Really?
- On her advice.

She's, er... nice.

Well, that's wonderful.

That's Lyall's Will.
He wrote it a month ago.

It's almost as if he
knew he was in danger.

He felt threatened somehow.

Look, he even named Bartlett as executor.

He must really have trusted him.

So did I. I thought he was really upset,

that he cared for Lyall and his family.

It'd be like me killing Geordie.

And... why would you do that?

- I wouldn't. I'm just saying.
- I know, but it might help

to work out why, if you were him.

- What you'd have to want
... - Amanda. - Or believe.

You went to the same college.

You're friends with an older man.

Put yourself inside his head.

What would it take

for you to kill Geordie?

Nothing.

- Unless...
- What?

He asked me to.

Hey! Stop!

Sidney! It's all right, Jimmy.

Is there a Coroner's
report for Valentine Lyall?

I... really shouldn't.

It only came through this morning.

Is everything all right?

Where's Geordie?

He's telephoned for assistance
at the Rivercam Boat Club.

You can come in my car
if you don't tell Benson.

No, cars. No men in uniform. Please, Phil.

Let me go alone, Geordie will understand.

Kit Bartlett.

I'm arresting you for the
murder of Valentine Lyall.

You're going to destroy everything.

Geordie!

- What do you think you're doing?
- Kit's one of us!

- He killed Lyall, Sidney.
- Lyall was in on it.

What?

It's all right! We're all
on the same side, aren't we?

Are we?

Lyall was ill.

Lung cancer.

He knew he was going to die,

so the Secret Service decided to use it.

- For what?
- To get Bartlett in with the Russians.

They must've known
Lyall was a British spy.

What better way for Kit to
prove his loyalty to Russia

than killing Lyall in public?

It was Lyall who cleaned up his home.

His room.

He left the files for the
British agents to access.

That's why he didn't scream.

Because he wanted to die.

That's right, isn't it?

Very impressive, Mr Chambers.

It's a shame to think
what you might've been.

And Rory Crompton?

That was the Soviets.

They put him up when they thought
you were closing in on Bartlett.

You very nearly complicated everything.

Why didn't you just tell me?

You couldn't be trusted.

And this is your idea of
the greater good, is it?

It was Lyall's idea, actually.

It's how he wanted to go.

At the hand of a friend.

Looking over the backs.

Fooling the enemy.

It's rather poetic, don't you think?

All I see is a man who lied to his wife

and deprived his family
of the time he had left.

If you tell her the truth,

you'll be putting them in
as much danger as Bartlett.

They're coming, sir.

Any minute now, Bartlett
will meet with the Tsar.

That's what Lyall's death earnt us

and why I couldn't let you ruin it.

Comrade.

The porter?

- Get out.
- All this time?

Get out!

Do as he says.

You sly old dog.

All that grief because you were
tupping Montgomery's daughter.

We were seeing each other
for a couple of years.

He was angry cos I broke up with her.

And why did you do that? No, let me guess.

She wasn't your type?

Maybe my type doesn't exist.

Or is already married?

Come on.

Let's go and give Lyall's wife some peace.

It turns out the student, Rory
Crompton, was the one that slipped.

Your husband tried to catch him

and that's how he fell.

Crompton was too ashamed
to admit it at first.

I know it doesn't make
things any easier, but...

.. Valentine died a hero.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Forgive us for the lies we tell...

.. to protect other people...

.. and those we tell to protect ourselves.

We are weak.

And the lies give us comfort.

But only the truth can set us free.

Amen.

I was at the back of the queue
on Sunday, there was none left.

Margaret!

Er... I'm sorry

for walking out on you at dinner.

I was hoping you'd let
me make it up to you?

You're buying.

We should go out as a foursome.

Guy would love to meet her.

I'm sure he'll be very relieved.

Is there no pie for Amanda?

I thought she'd be gone by now.

- Mrs Maguire.
- It's quite all right.

- I probably should be getting back.
- Mrs Hopkins.

Guy.

I thought I'd travel home with you.

I took the train to your father's house,

but the chauffeur told me he
was picking you up from here.

He's outside now.

Yes.

- It's been lovely seeing you.
- You too.

- And good luck with... you know who.
- Thanks.

Sidney, can I have a word?

Of course.

Stay away from my wife!

How can I assist you, gentlemen?

We were reliably informed
you'd been murdered.

- And yet here I sit.
- I did. I killed him.

An afternoon away from the
prying eyes of Grantchester.

We should make it a regular occurrence.

You're a saint, Sidney Chambers.

So what's her name? The
girl who has your heart.

Steer well clear, Amanda.