All language subtitles for Lewis. S04 E04 - Falling Darkness_624x352

Ellen, it's

fine.

Don't worry, you saved me a call.

Late arrivals from this afternoon's
pileup.

Denn die Totten reiten schnell.

Look at you lot.

Fantastic, eh?

Go on, help yourself.

Just a couple of each, eh?

Muddy.

Cloudle's not back yet, is he?

He's going to meet us there.

I think.

That's all right then. So long as you're
sorry.

Have you seen Clerval?

No.

You're coming. He's going to be here.

Rowena.

Yeah, I'm afraid not.

You've reached the voicemail of Dr.
Ellen Jacoby.

Please leave a message.

Hi, it's me.

Sorry, I've just got a call out.

You two press on, I'll be as quick as I
can.

Boy. Doctor, you're looking very, uh...
I was aiming a little higher than, uh,

sergeant.

But it's the thought that counts.

Shall we?

Body was found just before half -eight.

It was over, and that's your lot.

Oh, so am I nice.

You do have a life, you know. A poor
one, but it's my own.

I'm running late, so... Ooh.

I think I've been used to it.

Not like this.

I'm a stranger, sure.

You can find some distance.

How did you know her?

Flatmates.

We were at college here together.

I'm here.

We were due to meet tonight, believe it
or not.

Ellen will be wondering where we are.

Ellen Jacoby.

When she's in town, we try to get
together to meet up, the three of us.

We're going to need the 12th man in. Dr.
Hobson knowing the deceased.

Dr. Rawbones on his way.

Aberdeen Angus? Vegas can't be choosers.

So who was she?

Professor Willard, scientist.

Touched the Institute of Molecular
Biology and Human Genetics.

nigea will ask you heard of it well in a
purely professional capacity there's

been threat stem cell research not
overly popular with some of the more

spiritually certain

She back?

I've no idea.

I've only been home ten minutes and I
walked into all this.

Where the hell have you been?

Hmm? Yeah, something came up. Well, it
wouldn't have killed you to phone Rowena

and let her know, would it?

Have you any idea how upset she's been?
Sorry, what's it got to do with you?

Well, she's my friend, Victor.

I don't want to see her get hurt.

Ow.

Careful.

What happened to you?

Well, some hearties from Beaufort
thought it might be lark to start

champagne flute.

Well, you'd better go shot.

Tetris. Oh, yes, thank you, Dr. Clerval.

So, what's the drink?

Cause of death.

Well, it's a close one thing.

First among equals, blocked trauma to
the left parietal bone with the

fracture. Massive subdural hematoma.

Someone hit you on the back of the head.

I do know some big words, thank you.

What about the rest?

Hinge length of wooden dowel,
approximately one inch in diameter.

Sharpened at one end, driven into the
victim's chest.

Friend of Dr. Hobson's, I understand.

Taking it hard, I'd imagine.

Is that it?

Well, you'd think anything else would be
detroit, wouldn't you? But no, there is

something more.

I recovered a foreign object from the
victim's oral cavity.

It's a bulb of garlic.

Poor Moon last night, wasn't it?

It was.

Some sort of lunatic, do we think? Date
through the heart, garlic, I mean,

that's... Vampires, Mum?

So, anything on CCTV from the car park?

Fog. Lots of it. Pretty useless.

We're starting preliminary interviews at
ten, but James says there have been

threats, likely to do with our work.

Mixed bag from the devout to the
doolally. There are some genuine, well

ethical reservations, but the rest is
just... Green ink brigade.

There's a whole group of them. Keeps a
daily vigil outside the institute.

What the hell's going on? I had to put
my car on a meter.

Rufus?

I'm so sorry, Nicola.

When did you last see Professor Willard?

Around 7 .30.

I popped my head round the door to say
goodnight.

How did she seem?

Nothing bothering her?

No personal problems?

Not that I'm aware.

I gather she was divorced.

Is there anyone in her life at the
moment anyone we should be talking to?

Lygia didn't invite confidences, nor
share them.

I admired that. And it's themselves
you're involved in here, is that right?

With a view to the treatment of
progressive degenerative illnesses.

That's right. Hello.

Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, motor neurone
disease, MS.

Important work.

We like to think so.

But not without its critics.

Science is about the pursuit of truth.

That always threatens someone.

Do you know Professor Willard Wells?

He was a valued colleague.

Dedicated, diligent, a brilliant
scientist.

Personally, any change in her demeanor
recently? Nothing worrying her?

Besides distress.

I think you are better to go and talk to
the crazy people that attack us every

day as we come and go to work.

I'm so sure, Dr. Botherius, all avenues
of inquiry are being pursued.

Of course.

Now, now everything is being pursued
with seriousness.

But if the police had done their job
properly from the first, Lygia might

be alive.

No, Rowena.

I didn't do it.

Well, it wasn't like that last night,
was it?

And I know it wasn't me.

Maddy? Don't look at me.

It'll just be Victor messing about.

Not guilty.

That'll be a first.

And what's that supposed to mean?

We should call the police.

Why? It's just gibberish.

Murder. Help me.

Maybe like there was a murder done here
in this house. Maybe like when it was

built.

Must be a house with a ghost in it.

We need like an exorcist. Yeah, right,
because I'm sure they're listed in the

local small ads.

Actually, Rowena, it's funny you should
say that.

Dr. Belisarius says he last saw Willard
mid -afternoon. If it was an alibi, it'd

be too much to hope for. Of course it
would.

What about Strickfaden?

He drove straight to his father's at
Kiglington.

Will he confirm?

Unlikely. Strickfaden says in his 90s
house band memories.

Convenient. Not for his father.

Background checks on this lot while
we're at it.

I was waiting to go on.

Go on where?

The Old Chapel Theatre.

I'm there all week, giving readings.

You're an author, is it?

I am published, yes, but for the most
part it's a conversation with the

audience. I convey messages to them from
the other side.

You're a medium.

I prefer sensitive.

So what was it you wanted to tell her,
Mrs. Van Tessel?

You were waiting to go on, what, you had
a feeling?

Premonition, was it? Something along
those lines? She was stabbed, wasn't

I felt it.

Here.

We're very grateful for your
information, I'm sure.

If you give your details to Sergeant
Hathaway, somebody will come by and take

statement. I see. Well, bye then.

Oh.

She didn't suffer.

You've lost someone. Someone close.

Miss Van Teckel. It was very quick.

There was no suffering, just relief.

I don't wish to be rude, ma 'am, but
there's a very serious offence called

wasting police time.

Is that what you think I'm doing?

I don't doubt you're very well
-intentioned, miss.

But take my advice.

Leave death to the professional.

All right?

Looking for Dr. Hobson.

And you are?

D .I. Lewis.

Oh, come in.

Dr. Jackaby, was it? Yes.

You always send me all the details for
Lygia's ex.

I'm afraid they're on my machine at
home.

Oh, it's all right.

His number was on her mobile.

Would you know if she was seeing anyone
at the moment?

There had been someone, I think.

Up until quite recently.

But my jizz said she was off, man.

And you were all due to meet up last
night? That's right.

Left work about half four.

Home changed.

Set off just before six.

Anyone can confirm that?

Work will tell you what time I left.

Otherwise... Sad and...

Long -standing singleton, I'm afraid.

Not through any failing on your part,
I'm sure.

Laura said you were a sweetie.

And am I right in thinking that you were
at college with Professor Willard and

Laura? We shared a house together.

There were five of us.

Three girls and two smelly boys.

You are?

What were the results of Rawburn's post
-mortem?

They'll tell me at work.

Are you up to it?

What else am I going to do?

I feel like we've shifted.

Lygia was just someone I used to know.

I should have been a better friend.

What's that noise?

Enter her birthday into the keypad.

Yeah, I've tried that. Listen.

Get on to ARD Home Security, will you?

Let them know I'm on the scene.

You're going in.

What are you planning to do?

I thought... I mean, you're welcome to
stay here. Would you mind?

No, of course not.

Do you think we should call Alec?

I mean, they were, you know.

Twenty -odd years back. You're going to
seek Pete out as well?

Well, there'll be a funeral and...
Eventually.

I'm sure she'd want Alec to be there.
Ellie.

Didn't you ever read the instructions?

Never return to a firework once lit.

Code is 3071 if you need it again.

30, 70, you aren't right.

I thought the engineer could write it
down, the 8th memoir.

Well, a memoir doesn't need any 8th, I'm
sorry, mate.

No, of course, I just find it helps to
jot things down.

Well, jot this down.

Golf 422.

Partial registration of a dark -coloured
balloon. Note it's parked out there

last night from just before 8 had just
gone 9.

The woman next door had trouble last
year at Halloween with kids throwing

at the door. So this year she decided to
keep a lookout. I've seen her twitching

at her window.

The driver was a white male, 30, tried
the bell and drove off.

I'll get on to it.

Yeah, run it past traffic.

What's the word on Mr Willard?

Middle of the North Sea, oil rig Lima
Bravo. He's a risk engineer.

Daughter, isn't it?

Yeah, Chloe. She lives with his parents.

And Lychee was happy about that?

Well, presumably.

Scotland's a long way.

Less upheaval for the kid.

Maybe.

No.

No, there's nothing.

Perhaps I might see the rest of the
house?

Of course, follow me.

Something happened here.

Oh, God.

Why am I... Something terrible.

A long time ago.

There's a young man.

What's his name?

Maybe it's Casper. Shroudy.

There's pain.

And great sadness.

That's why he can't pass over.

Your life force is bound by grief and
memories of earthly attachments.

You may let go.

All is well.

Go.

You may depart.

Is that it?

Yes. He's gone now.

I don't care.

I'm not keeping him here.

It's all right.

Sometimes they just need a helping hand
to pass over.

The house is at peace now.

Can you feel it?

No, just going through the background
checks that Uniform got us on the

protesters.

Willard's flat.

Double -checking, making sure we didn't
miss anything.

Hmm?

Oh, um... Usual odds and...

sods.

Mine at form, pink driving.

It's not visiting.

Nothing here.

Serious?

No I'm still here.

I didn't think it was important.

That you were having a relationship with
the victim?

Had had.

Which this torn photograph would seem to
confirm.

We, uh, kept it quiet.

Ligia didn't want everyone knowing our
business.

But, uh, I think Strickfaden knew.

What makes you say that?

He's been so kind to me since.

Since what happened to Legia?

Well, I did finish.

I asked her to marry me.

Thought that's what she wanted.

Marriage.

Children.

Turned you down?

Yeah. Next,

she says she wants to end things.

Said she could never make me happy,
which of course means I could never make

happy. Was there someone else?

She said not.

And I believed her.

What's wrong?

What's wrong? When the address came
through, I thought I'd got the wrong

I lived here.

We lived here.

Lygia, Ellen and me.

This was our house.

This was our house.

Friends murdered and now this. From the
house they shared.

devil's advocate any other investigation
we're talking about i've known her for

more than 10 years worked with her maybe
that's the problem so far she's the

only link you've got come on you don't
really think no i don't think i follow

procedure get a statement a movement
last night and halloween

hi

I could take a statement. No, it's all
right.

You'd be better coming from me.

Thanks.

There's no sign of a forced entry, but
then they don't lock the front and the

back. Too much coming and going.

Between two and four this morning,
they'll be asking. Have to wait for the

for anything else.

First impressions.

Throat tucked from left to right.

Finger marks around the lips and chin.

I think we could discount suicide.

You know what? He lacks in bedside
manner. He more than makes up for in

insolvency. Get house to house started.

I'm going to have a quick word with the
housemates and formal interviews down

the station.

Separate cars.

Get off of my house.

What the hell's going on? Mr.

Clairval, is it?

The police were in again.

Everything all right?

Nikolai?

Yes.

Good.

Up south.

Makes the heart grow fonder.

What do you reckon to this, sir?

The girl who found the body was babbling
to uniform about a ghost leaving a

message.

They even had your friend round,
apparently.

What friend?

Ursula Van Tassel, or Tessel.

Well, she was here. Yeah, Rowena was so
freaked out she spent an half night on

the sofa. Now, what do you make of that?

That would be one of those rhetorical
questions you're so fond of. No, but

seriously, Ursula knew that the G had
been...

It's through the chest.

Couldn't be an educated guess, could it?

A murdered woman, what are the odds it's
going to be a knife attack?

Better than 50%. It's a numbers game.

That's what all that stuff about is
anyone here with a name beginning with

Yeah, it's a cold, really. I'm familiar
with the technique.

Go on, then. Read that. Make yourself
useful.

Ligia Willard. Ligia Willard. Murder,
murder.

Elhob, Laura Hobson. Help me.

What about the rest?

Well, this is new, apparently. It wasn't
here last night.

Find Mary Gwilym.

Who's Mary Gwilym?

I was hoping you might be able to tell
me.

Sorry.

Don't mean anything.

Might your friend know?

Dr. Jacoby?

Ellen?

Well, not a name I've ever heard of.

Sorry.

This looks like Gia's room.

Come on.

I'll buy you a drink.

Then I think you need to tell me as much
as you can about your time here.

Sergeant Hathaway, Oxford, please. I
wonder if I might have a word, miss.

Call me.

Charlotte.

You use that lot then, don't you?

Yeah.

I didn't see anything last night. I'm
sorry.

Was that the one before?

Yeah. No.

No, I can't imagine it's anything.

I was up feeding Harry and...

Looking out the window and old dinners
at the front of the house. And one of

boys from across the road was coming in,
that's all.

What time would that have been?

It was a two o 'clock feed, so anything
between two and half past.

Halloween, I suppose.

Do you know which one it was?

I don't know. At first I thought it was
this Becky one, but... Oh, here!

This is my husband, Vince.

This is Sergeant... Hathaway. Yeah.

What's wrong? It's not Harry, is it? Oh,
no, no, it's fine, it's fine. That's

the baby.

And then the students have been killed.

I'm sorry.

I'm going to have to... Weirdos,

Mr. Colwyn.

Well, goths, or emos, or whatever it is
they call themselves.

How well do you know them?

Not at all, really. We've only just
moved in, so... They haven't had any

trouble? They have some loud parties.

We wouldn't mind, but for the baby.

I did have a word.

I didn't take much notice.

OK, well, look, thanks for your time. If
there's anything that strikes you...

Sure. Just ask for Detective Sergeant
Hathaway.

You tried Mr Jeffrey's next door?

Yeah, I rang the bell.

Be at work.

Usually gets back about six. You want to
try again?

Thanks very much.

Is this your van?

Why? Need some plumbing doing?

You home last night? No, I was on shift
up at the new superstore in Kidlington.

I've got a docket in the van if you want
to check it. Yeah, you're right.

Who else was with you?

Alan mentioned a couple of lads.

Oh, um, Peter and Alec.

Peter Hawkins and Alec Pickman.

You still in touch?

I saw Alec a couple of years back on the
broad, not to talk to. I was driving,

but... Where is he now?

Round. From all I heard, he'd given up
poetry to become an artist.

He read English, took a gap year and
then did his DPhil.

To be honest, I think the only reason he
stayed on was because of Lygia.

They were an item.

The item.

For her part, anyway.

Alec was...

Mad, bad, and lock up your daughters.

And Peter Hawkins?

I wouldn't have a clue.

When did you see him last?

Now you're asking.

A couple of days before the after
-finals bash.

I came down with mumps of all things.

So, Cinders, you shall not go to the
wall.

My dad picked me up and drove me home.

By the time I'd recovered, we'd all gone
our separate ways.

So you didn't see him again?

I called him a couple of times.

I never heard back.

He'd blip through the crack.

Be not careful.

Alec Pickman.

G .I. Lewis.

G .S. Hathaway. Oxford, please.

Ligia, where are you? In the pavement.

I understand you and Professor Willard
were close when you were younger. All

world is green. I haven't seen Ligia
in... Oh, it must be 20 years. Who was

that put you on to me?

I might ask, sir. Where were you on
Halloween?

Was it a weeknight?

Drunk and incapable, unless, of course,
it was the weekend, in which case I'd

have been, oh, yeah, drunk and
incapable.

Last act?

I would have referred my honourable
friend to the answer I gave some moments

ago.

Speaking of which...

Can

I interest thy review?

Noel. My candle burns at both ends. It
will not last the night, but oh, my foes

and oh, my friends.

It's a lovely night. Cheers.

Do you know a girl called Rowena
Trevanion?

No, not had the pleasure, sorry to say.
Why, is she pretty?

She was. She was killed last night in
the house on Nethermore.

Nethermore? When were you last there?

86.

She's digging up Pete Hawkins and the
rest of the Weird Sisters and I who

collect the set. Weird Sisters?

They're the...

Two girls used to live with us.

That's the pet name for them.

Ellen Jackerby and Laura Hobson.

Excuse me, sir.

Does the name Mary Gwilliam mean
anything to you?

Whatever you might have heard, there are
some women in Oxford with whom I have

not been intimately acquainted, although
I'm true.

I fear I've not always been as kind to
the ladies as I should have, or indeed,

as they deserve.

You do have this unreasonable need for
someone to rely on. Have you noticed

that?

I can't say I can't get it.

You?

Actually, I rather suspect you do. You
look the dependable sort. Petey was a

like you. The type that thinks girls
need to ask to be kissed.

You know, the kind of...

whose shirt's always wet through at the
shoulder with tears. Oh, Peter, you're

such a good listener.

You didn't like him?

He was the best friend I ever had.

Carried a torch for the jail all the way
through our time at Oxford. She never

gave him a second thought, not like
that, anyway.

Any idea where we could find him?

He was living with his sister in
Banbury.

Last I heard, Christine came to visit
once or twice.

Good -looking girl.

So is that it? Am I in the clear, or am
I still in the frame? What do you think?

I think you're a bit of a fraud, Mr.
Pickman, a ragbag of bits of poetry and

lines from old songs.

A wandering minstrel I, indeed, a thing
of shreds and patches of ballad songs

and snatches.

A half -cut at two in the afternoon.
It's sad, isn't it? Sad, love.

Tragic, is what it is.

Well, we'll leave you to your picture
painting.

You're not planning on going anywhere.

Laura?

What is it?

Oh, nothing.

Nothing. I'm just being silly.

Oh, my God, look at my nose.

Amongst my souvenirs.

My hair.

Call the fashion, please.

Where's Petey? Probably taking the
photograph.

Oh, God, look at us.

So young.

So full of... How do we get from that to
this?

Life, my dear.

We've not done too badly.

You're happy, aren't you?

I just keep looking at Lydia and
thinking, sometimes I've got the

Yes, don't upset yourself.

Sorry. Where did you get to? Didn't seem
fair to be drinking you out of house

and home.

Fancy a nightcap.

Better make it a night top hat.

I went to a gig at the Bear.

What time did that pack up?

Nine -and -a -half, eleven, twelve.

I had too much to drink.

Ended up on the bench in Botanic
Gardens.

Alone?

It was that woman coming.

If we hadn't had her around, we should
have just left it alone.

How did you find her?

Victor knew her.

How was that? I don't know. A flyer in
the local paper, I think.

It was just supposed to be a bit of fun.

About Halloween, I understand you were
meant to attend a party in Ambrose Quad.

Well, I said I might go.

In the end, I didn't fancy it. So what
did you do?

Went to the theatre.

The old chapel. There was a séance -y
type show.

What time did you get home?

I don't know. Around midnight.

Well, I had a couple of drinks after the
show.

Is that how you know Esther Van Tessel?

And how was everything in the house
between you all?

No argument? No.

We all get on. Everyone liked her.

What would make someone do that?

It's what we're meant to find out.

They seem decent enough, ma 'am, but the
alibi for all three is pretty shaky.

Last night and Halloween.

Particularly that Clerval lad.

What about Dr. Hobson?

You have taken a statement.

It might be worth taking a formal
statement, sir, purely for elimination

purposes. Did you want something?

We got a match on that car parked
outside Willard's tonight. She was

Oh, I love a boy, was it?

I had been refused some trifling
additional expenditure, so I accessed

Institute's account. Accessed, Doctor?

There was no criminal intent. I simply
hoped to prove my argument.

By chance, I came upon an irregular
procedure.

For the last five years, each
department's annual underspend has been

and drawn on to make payments to a
clinic in Jeddah. For what?

Embryonic stem cells.

The Human Fertilization and Embryology
Act is quite clear about the use of

illegally obtained stem cells.

So why did you take this to Professor
Willard?

She'd been the last person to access the
file.

I wanted her advice.

And who would have the authority to owe
care payment for something such as that?

I have to assume that your benefactors
would take a dim view of this institute

being involved in criminal activity?

That is, you'll forgive me, quite a
naive assessment.

The bottom line for Morning Tide is just
that. It's about profit. It's about

results. Saving lives.

A breakthrough here could help hundreds
of thousands, perhaps millions of

people. But we cannot make those
advances without a ready and reliable

material. Look, we're close.

We're so close. Every month that goes
by, put the availability of treatment

by a year, all those patients, each day
becoming more and more lost to the loved

ones.

If it were in your power to save them,
what would you do?

Is that how Lygia Willard felt? I tried
to talk her out of it, but she was

resolved to go public, to bring the sky
down upon all our heads.

I believe she'd lost her faith.

Her faith?

In science.

Yeah, I've got an address for Mary
Gwilliam. Only one on the electoral

Cowley.

Dead about a week.

Ten days.

There is some evidence of... What is one
supposed to call it now?

Enhanced interrogation, technically.

She's been tortured.

So it would appear.

Cause of death would appear to be
asphyxia.

You can see where the ligature has
bitten into the neck.

It's even driven the chain of her St.
Christopher, or whatever it is, into the

flesh.

You should have been a nurse, sir.

This one was taken as W of Perth.

Scotland. Or Australia.

So who was Mary, William?

I've got half the way looking into her
background now, ma 'am.

But according to the neighbours, she was
a retired nurse.

Divorced, no kids.

Kept herself to herself.

Connections to the other victims?

Beyond the message on the fridge at
Nethermore Avenue, nothing.

It's my feeling that the murderer was
getting a bit jumpy that we haven't

her yet.

Then what was he trying to say?

And where does Dr Hobson fit into it?

Well, we don't know if she does for sure
yet, Mark.

All right, well, I think you posted.

Oh, Robbie.

I've had the chief constable on.

How did Rowan's post -mortem go?

Nothing new.

Formal ID was... Well, it never gets any
easier, does it?

Apparent.

Very decent.

Distraught, obviously.

Well, they did say she'd been dating
that Roddy lad for a bit before he

up with Madeleine.

No residual ill feeling.

Apparently not on Rowena's part.

She'd set a cap at Victor lately,
according to the mother.

Set her cap at?

It's an expression.

Perhaps they used to listen to the
wireless together, sir, or step out once

while to the Pixar house.

Right.

Just for that, Mary Williams valuable.

Bad tag for the exhibits, officer. When
you want a minute.

Thanks. You're welcome.

Any joy with this hospital?

W's? 50 different Williams, at least.
There's literally hundreds from St.

to St. Walson, holding by Wendell Linus,
Winifred, Wilfred Tudis, and all points

between. None so far with a hospital
named after them in Perth.

Scotland or Western Australia?

So far.

There is, um, there's one other thing,
sir.

Been going through Mary Gwilliam's
outgoing calls.

And? Well, a couple she made recently to
the same number stand out. One was made

seven months ago, and one was the last
call she ever made.

I don't remember speaking to her. I
don't believe I didn't speak to her.

When was this meant to be?

Last call was three weeks ago, October
8th.

2310, nine seconds in duration.

No.

I was... I did get this weird message,
but that was Eon's back.

First call, March the 17th.

20 past four in the afternoon, one
minute and eight seconds in duration.

Well, I don't know if it was this woman,
but it was a woman's voice.

I can't even really remember what she
said.

Something along the lines of, she'd
found my number in the phone book, and

was the Laura Hobson she was looking
for, I'd know what it was about.

Anything else?

Well, sounds a bit odd, but I'm pretty
sure she mentioned Rochester.

Rochester? I've never been to Rochester.

You never called her back?

No, I don't.

I assume she got hold of the wrong Laura
Hobson.

Look, I know this is going to sound...
Can anyone

vouch for your movements the night
Professor Willard died?

Robbie. It's a procedure.

I left work about 6 .30 and went home.

I got ready and I was just about to
leave for the Pearl Club when I got the

to attend my year.

Phoned Ellen and left a message to say
I'd be late and I drove straight to the

Institute.

Anything else?

You want me to pick out for the night
that the girl got killed too?

Please.

I took a valium and had an early night.

Ellen was watching TV downstairs.

She'll tell you I never left the house.

She didn't.

You had to follow it up, sir.

That makes me feel a whole lot better.

Where to now?

Collect the set, Alec Pickman said. So
far the only one we haven't had sight of

is Peter Hawkins.

Oh, uniform sent me a last known
address.

My brother was never the same after he
came back from Oxford.

He seemed changed.

Haunted. In what way?

Our mother died when we were ten,
Inspector.

Of what I've since come to learn was an
autosomal dominant inherited prion

disease. FFI.

Or to give it its proper name, fatal
familial insomnia.

There's no cure, and it is invariably
fatal.

It's caused by plaques developing on the
thalamus.

The area of the brain responsible for
the regulation of sleep?

Yes.

Everyone has bouts of sleeplessness.

But for someone with FFI, it may herald
a downward spiral which leads inevitably

to madness and death.

Are there no tests he could have?

Not then.

Peter and I simply grew up in the
knowledge that our blood was in some way

tainted.

But one day we might go the same way as
our mother.

Can't have been easy.

No one lives with it.

Or dies with it.

Even if only one parent has the gene,
any offspring have a 50 % chance of

inheriting the disease.

So... About a year after he came back
down,

Peter drove out to Whiteham Wood.

And in the early hours of the morning,

Ran a hose from the exhaust.

I don't suppose you'd have held on to
any of his personal effects still.

My father heard them lock this room 19
years ago.

No one has entered it since.

You'll find Peter's diary in the
bookcase.

He was depressed, yes, but... There was
something else.

Sadness.

Regret.

For what?

I don't know.

We were sitting looking at the fire one
afternoon and suddenly he turned to me

and said, Would you still love me if I'd
done something terrible?

You didn't press him on it? Well, we
gave each other space.

I knew he'd tell me when he was ready.

A week later, he was dead.

You look very alike.

Is he older or younger?

Younger.

By 20 minutes.

I've been a bit of an idiot, sir.

I've been looking for hospitals in
Perth. I've requested.

It's not in Perth. It's of Perth.

You know the medallion that William
wore? It's not of St. Christopher. It's

William, sir. St. William of Perth.

Will I be sitting down, please?

Thank you.

William is this wild youth, but upon
reaching manhood, he decides he's going

change his ways.

and devote his life to the service of
God. Anyway, one morning, on his way to

Mass, he comes across a child abandoned
on the steps of a church, and he decides

to adopt him.

And this is going somewhere, is it? In
the summer of 1201, he sets out with his

son on a pilgrimage to all the holy
places in England, and having spent

days in Rochester, on his way to
Canterbury, his son strikes his father

the head, cuts his throat, and robs him.

Local madwoman comes across the courts
and lays a garland of flowers, first on

William's head and then on her own,
whereupon she's miraculously cured of

insanity. St William of Perth, a .k .a.
St William of Rochester, the patron

saint of adoptees and orphans.

And all this gets us where?

Up until the late 80s, the St William of
Perth Foundation ran a small number of

hospitals, including Homewood Park,
Scituate, Abingdon.

It was built in the 1870s as an asylum
before being acquired in the 50s and run

as a private hospital by the St William
of Perth Trust.

It's the asylum graveyard.

Developers are in the process of
removing the remains for reburial

This is a private hospital.

I'm surprised I've been able to make out
mixed use.

That's a polite way of saying what?

I think that means this way.

This is where Mary Quilliam worked.

It was used as a place where the well
-to -do could send those relatives

for some reason or another to be not
quite up to snuff, out of mind, out of

sight. Is it William Palace Trust
welcomed or with open arms?

Open checkbooks, my life.

Hang on.

This way.

We're off to Mary Gwilliam's stuff
records.

Or any colleagues who are here at the
same time.

Yes, it'll point us towards a link with
Dr. Hobson.

Right, best of luck. I'll leave you to
it.

Why, where are you off to?

Trip to the theatre.

How am I meant to get back?

I'm sure a uniform would be happy to
give you a lift.

I wouldn't leave it too late, mind.

This place would get quite spooky after
dark.

You.

One thing now.

To be, why to know or not how.

Even if I could tell you, I wouldn't
say.

Hey there, darling.

Take my blood and let me fly away.

Keep my love, but don't buy another day.

Our loved ones are not lost to us.

They merely wait in a place where there
are no goodbyes.

Thank you.

So what's the trick, Miss Van Tessel?

Oh, it's you.

I've three people murdered.

Two of who you seem to have been
involved with. Two? You attended a

the house on Nethermore Avenue.

There was a young girl there called
Rowena Trevanion.

And the next morning, she was found
murdered.

What?

No premonitions?

No voices in your ears?

I can't explain the gift, Inspector.

You came to us to help publicise your
little sideshow.

That was my agent's idea.

Coming to see you was mine.

It was a genuine impulse.

I've been trying to call you. What is
it, Matt? There's been another attack.

She's alive just.

Not Laura?

No, sir. Dr. Jacoby.

And I heard screaming and I just started
running and I found her up the towpath

about 100 yards face down.

Thought she was a goner.

Did you see anyone else?

No, thank God.

No.

Shouting as I went, I suppose, trying to
scare the bastard off. And they must

have heard me coming and thought better
of it.

Alec?

An induced coma until the brain swelling
goes down could be a couple of days at

least.

It's possible that she might not
remember anything of the attacks.

On the upside... There's an upside?

What with all the excitement, I forgot.
Mary Gwilym. I managed to trace a

colleague. And?

Gwilym leaves Homewood Park in 1987,
dismissed suddenly under a cloud.

My contact wasn't specific, but was
under the impression that her licence to

nurse had been revoked. So I get on to
the College of Nursing.

Yeah, they'll call me back tomorrow, but
what we do know is that she reappears

on the radar in the late 90s, working as
co -director of the Rochester House

Foundation, agency specializing in
rehoming Romanian orphans in the West.

You mean an adoption agency?

Of sorts, but no question to ask if the
money was right.

Don't stare, Alec.

Don't.

I know I asked you before about Mary
Quilliam, but it seems she worked at

Homewood Park Hospital.

Homewood? Well, you know it. Oxford's
not for everyone, Inspector.

Hand in hand with a first -class
education goes a first -class nervous

breakdown.

Homeward, amongst other things, is where
you got sent if you went off your head.

Victor, we've been looking everywhere
for you. Where have you been?

Victor?

Are you all right?

Hello? Oh, come on.

Hey, hey, hey! Leave me alone, yeah?

Did Peter Hawkins ever spend any time at
home, boy?

Not to my knowledge.

Why? It's just his sister said he was a
changed man when he came down from

Oxford.

Haunted was the word she used.

Any idea what Shemina meant by that?

Haunted? I don't know.

Well, aren't we all, aren't you?

The heart is an unquiet house.

What did you mean exactly when you said,
amongst other things, with regard to

Homewood? Well, dons of a certain age
muttered of it as a place where girls

would go who, um... What was the phrase
my tutor used?

Um... found themselves in difficulty.

But you never had any cause to call on
her services.

Even if I had, I think twice before
mentioning it.

There's a rather disagreeable whiff of
the presbytery about you guys.

I'd hate to lower your opinion of me.

Not particularly. You might find
yourself a bit hard -prepped.

Oh, I see. It's like that, is it? Are
you, um... No, no, of course not, no.

likes them a bit wilder, does our Laura.

So? You'll find a uniformed officer
posted alongside your boat until this is

over, Mr. Pickman.

I think everyone was a bit in love with
him back then.

Or infatuated.

Some of us move on.

But Alan... Alan?

I thought it...

No, Alec broke it off with Lygia as soon
as she'd sat her finals.

The one decent thing he ever did for
her.

You all knew there was someone else.

It wasn't until years later I discovered
it was Ellen.

Did Lygia know?

It was all water long under by then.

They were close.

I certainly wasn't going to open that
particular can of worms.

Laura, we've known each other a long
time as colleagues.

Not friends, I hope.

You know you can rely on my discretion.

There's nothing else you can think of
that I ought to know.

If you're talking, sorry for King to
bear it out, sir.

Only as far as he's concerned, Alex's
new squeeze was Laura Hobson, not Ellen

Jacoby.

I know. Why would he think that?

I don't know.

Unless that's what Ellen Jacoby told
Lygia to spare her own blushing.

That's assuming that Hobson is telling
the truth.

Any reason to doubt it?

Look, sir, I can understand that this is
difficult for you. Oh, dear, really?

You don't seem to be having too much
trouble with it.

Just trying to keep a sense of
detachment, that's all.

Same as any other case.

There is one other thing.

Hawkins is a fairly diligent diarist,
but come the end of his time at Oxford,

just stops dead.

Doesn't pick up his pen again until a
couple of months before he died.

All right, listen, make a note of the
date when Hawkins breaks off from his

journals, all right? And check it
against when they have this finals bash.

You think it has a bearing?

I do, yeah.

Let's get the Clerval lad in.

See if the line -up can't shake his
confidence.

Mr. and Mrs. Corwin, sir.

Ah, Detective Inspector Lewis.

Thanks very much for coming. Much
appreciated.

Charlotte won't actually have to talk to
him, will she? No, no, no, no, no. One

way glass.

You all right with that, Mrs. Corwin?

We've been up all night with Harry,
Colick. Oh, my sympathies.

Me and my wife had terrible times with
our elders.

Shall we? Yeah.

Not bringing with you, then?

Um, no, no. Mum's looking after...

Sergeant Murray just needs a few details
from you, Mrs. Corwin.

Date of birth, home address.

18th of the 3rd, 86th.

I'm sorry about this. I would let you go
in with her, but rules of evidence.

No, sure.

She'll be all right.

I suppose you've got a light, have you?

You can't smoke in here, mate. Of
course, sorry.

I'm going to leave you with Sergeant
Murray, if that's all right.

Duty calls.

All right.

Turn the line then, gents.

Those with glasses, please remove them.

Take your time.

So where'd you get to last night?

I told you, just knocking around.

Oh, come on, Victor, you'll have to do
better than that.

We've got two murders and an attempted,
and you're not able to give a straight

account of your whereabouts for any of
them.

All right.

Let's try Halloween.

You made a statement of the effect that
you were at the theatre and you got home

around midnight.

Yes.

But we've just had positive visual
identification, Victor. You were

by someone who saw you come back to
Nethermore Avenue at two in the morning.

So which is it?

It's my fault.

All of it.

Rowena. We'd kind of been seeing each
other and... And then I went to that

I hung around the bar afterwards and I
got talking to Ursula.

Man, turtle.

Go on.

Well... I don't know, you know.

Just... Had a couple of drinks and...

One thing led to another, didn't it?

So that's where you were till two in the
morning.

And the night Rowena died, you went back
for seconds, did you?

What am

I looking

at?

Hospital admissions.

Look here between the 16th and the 21st
of March, 1986.

I don't understand.

She never mentioned it. There's more,
I'm afraid.

Given the Mary William connection to the
Rochester House Foundation and their

particular line of business, I took a
look at the hospital register, 17th of

March, bottom right -hand corner of the
page.

March 17th, birth, male, 2348, £6 .07,

mother, Hobson L.

It's a mistake, it has to be.

Check the next entry.

March 18th, birth female, 0035, 5 pound
11 ounces, mother's name,

Hobson Howe. She had twins, sir.

I don't believe this.

She just told me.

I mean, I asked her outright if there
was anything I ought to know.

She lied. She wouldn't.

Not me.

Public records have the birth of two
children, John and Susan, registered in

Oxford in the first quarter of 1986.
Mother, Laura Hobson. Father, Peter

Hawkins.

Mary Gwilliam helped to have them
adopted through the Rochester House

Foundation, but not together. She
separated them.

Bring her in.

Sir? Formal interview down the station
under caution.

On what charge?

Obstructing a murder inquiry.

What do we think we're dealing with?
They're exacting some kind of bizarre

revenge against Dr. Hobson. For what?

Giving her up, maybe? Who knows?

Hathaway?

Adoptions registry.

Yeah, go ahead.

John went straight from Homewood Park to
a family called Moreau at Woodstock.

And the girl, Susan, had around three
months to a couple called the Renfields

Cowley. You get an address?

For the Renfields, Susan's adopted
parents, yeah.

But not for John?

No, the Moreaus moved from Woodstock in
around 89 and then just vanished off the

electoral roll. Went abroad, maybe?

Mrs. Renfield?

Dear Louis, dear Hathaway, Oxford,
please. May we come in?

We haven't seen Susan for... Well... We
had a bit of a falling out.

Sir?

What's all this about?

Is this Susan, Mrs. Renfield?

Because we know her as Charlotte.

It's Susan Charlotte.

But she didn't like Susan.

But this is Vince Corwin, right? The
husband?

No. No, that's John.

John Moreau.

Do you like it?

Do you like it?

Yeah.

Ambulance and backup, please.

117 Valdemar Close. We have a man down.

I think we've got a trach on our mobile.

It's a mess. Why didn't she tell us what
was going on? Because she didn't know.

We should never have doubted her.

If anything happens... Hathaway?

Yep. Got it.

Hobson's mobile.

Heading west out of Abingdon.

415.

Homewood Park.

How could Dr. Hobson not know what all
this was about?

Well, a pig man and Lygia Willard were
an item, right?

But straight after files, he dumps her
for somebody else.

Now, who would Lygia Willard turn to for
a shoulder to cry on?

Pete Hawkins.

Right. But I think that that closeness,
her clinging to him for comfort, was

more than he could stand.

I think he lost control.

That terrible thing he'd done when she
couldn't get over, he raped her. More.

I think he left her pregnant.

With twins.

You saw Charlotte at that ID parade.

What was it they said? She'd been up all
night with her baby?

That isn't why she's not sleeping.

She's inherited Hawkins' condition.

Who are you?

Why are you doing this?

What have I done to you?

What did you do?

Save us.

Living death.

How long can you hold your breath for,
do you think?

Please.

Why didn't I cheer without reporting?

Shame. Who would like to hear blame for
what had happened?

I mean, in her mind, who'd betrayed her?
So what, she just checks into Homewood

Park, she gives up the children to Mary
Gwilliam, who handles the adoption, but

the mother is registered as... Don't!

You're fine. You're fine. You're fine.

It's not nice being scared, is it?

To live in fear.

Is that why you did it?

We wanted her to know how it felt.

To make her suffer.

We gave her enough clues.

Her friends, the place she lived, and
that it is on the fridge, which she

wouldn't admit it. Laura Hobson isn't
your mother!

I cheer Willard with your mother.

He's lying.

She registered your birth in Laura
Hobson's name.

We lost three kids inside of you.

So we had ten.

And that's how you found your brother
and sister?

That wasn't all you discovered, though,
was it?

She can't sleep, can she?

She should never have had us.

I can't get help.

Oh, baby.

Ben.

Sleep now.

Ben.

We belong, Ben.

What do you think will happen to her?

Too ill to stand trial, I suppose.

Hospital, madness, death in the end.

A want of a nail.

Eh?

If Vince's parents hadn't split up, his
mum would never have moved him away from

Woodstock. He'd never have ended up in
the same school as Charlotte.

None of this might ever have happened.

Simple twist of fate.

Ah, fate's too easy.

It's lies.

Family secrets.

If Alan hadn't lied about her affair
with Alec...

See you

in the trout later.

I can't leave you, Alec.

I never could.

Do the right thing for once, eh?

And you haven't.

We did.

And I always will.

Go with a cold butt.