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- Have you heard The Beatles' new record?

- It isn't good. - No.

- No running. - Sorry, Miss.

- The question posed by many Shakespearean critics,

including F.R. Leavis, T.S. Eliot,

and others too grand to use their own first names is,

are Antony and Cleopatra true tragic heroes,

or are they too fault-ridden and laughable to be tragic?

Is their relationship one of love or lust?

Does Cleopatra kill herself out of love for Antony

or because the world has changed and she's lost all power?

Essays in on Monday, please.

All: Yes, sir.

- You hear me, Hazel, Shelley?

Both: Yes, sir!

♪♪

- Heard from Mary? - Total silence.

Where do you think she's gone?

- Gretna Green.

- Serious? Did he propose?

- Well, so she said.

"With a passion that burned the air between us."

- Blimey. Imagine that.

- "And so saying,

"his erstwhile timid lips grew bold and poesied with hers

in dewy rhyme."

What's that mean?

- It's John Keats talk for "he snogged her."

She wouldn't tell me his name.

Right.

Out of 10. - 10.

Me?

- 11.

- Joining the orchestra, girls?

I'm on the lookout for young ladies like you.

You just would, wouldn't you?

♪♪

- Anyone smell gas?

- Sir.

- Out tonight, John?

- I might be.

- Didn't really want to know, did you, sir?

- No, no. Just being polite, actually.

- All right, then, if you really want to know...

- No, no, none of my business.

- Fine. - Ah, gotcha.

- All right, well, you've beaten it out of us.

I, John Bacchus, me...

Am on a promise.

- Who is he? - Ha, ha.

♪♪

- She looks a mess.

Oh, hang on. Hang on.

- Hurry up.

- I'm hurrying.

Does your dad know where we go?

- No. He just knows we're out.

Me sister covers for us.

- On air. Camera one. Two next.

- Welcome to the show. It's Friday night.

Put your work in the drawer called "forget about it,"

get your glad rags on, and turn the world Upside Down!

- Go to camera three on The Walking Dead.

And I don't mean Tone.

- I'm Tony "Tone" Hexton,

and have I got a fabulous show...

- Camera two.

One next.

- It's a crime to use the word "fabulous" for it!

- Camera one. Three next. - Isn't that right, sweetheart?

- I don't know what you're talking about.

She agrees with me.

She just hasn't thought about it yet.

Let's kick off.

Playing Suzanne,

the group that's been taking the chart by storm.

Please welcome The Walking Dead!

- Go.

Start low.

I want to see legs, please.

And if possible...

Whoo!

- ♪ Well, she likes to talk dirty ♪

♪ But I keep her running nice and clean ♪

- ♪ Talks dirty and says what she means ♪

- ♪ I love the way she looks ♪

♪ And she knows that all my friends agree ♪

- ♪ The way she looks, all my friends agree ♪

- ♪ Hey, there, Suzanne ♪

♪ You really got ahold of me ♪

♪♪

♪ Suzanne ♪ - ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪ - ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪ - ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪ - ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Suzanne ♪ - ♪ Suzanne ♪

- ♪ Picking up the pieces of my broken heart ♪

- Ah, the smell of sex.

- Fancy a walk?

- She's such a tart. It's shocking.

- I totally agree.

Blind dates, eh?

- Ah, just keep your distance, yeah?

What's your name, anyway?

- Barry.

- Camera one next. - Oh, to be young.

Oh, to be cool.

Oh, my lumbago.

- Oh, to be witty.

- It's chat-up time, Tone. - Two next.

- And now I'd like to do something which is

a little bit unusual for me, and that is chat up some ladies.

Hi. So what's your name, young lady?

- Shelley Macefield.

- Enjoying tonight's show, Shelley?

- For crying out loud, not her.

- Well, come out of your shell, Shelley, and tell us

what's cool about being young today.

- Music, isn't it? - Ah, but is it, Shelley?

- Disaster.

- Three next.

- What about boys? Got a boyfriend?

- Me? No.

- Hard to get, eh?

So what kind of guy lights your fire, Shelley?

- Well, not one that looks like me dad.

- Yeah, it's not funny.

Old blokes, you think it's all about sex for us,

but it isn't.

- Well, they all say that at first, ladies and gents.

- That's just what you'd like the world to be about.

Now, what's... - Mm, hello, hello.

- What's fantastic about now is the fashion.

It's seeing what's coming out of Manchester and Liverpool

and London and New York and being able to go and buy it.

It's how you feel when you wear clothes that you love.

It's like a feeling of power. I put on a new dress...

- I like this one.

I'd like her after the show, please.

- Born to walk down the street.

Any street, any town, anywhere.

I feel like I was born to be me.

- Born to be me. What's her name, Tone?

- Mm. Get off us, will you?

- Well, you want to see us again or not?

- Not.

Eugh, what's that smell?

- You all right?

- Oh, God.

Oh, God!

- Give her the mic.

Give her the mic!

- I just had a little idea. - Hello, everybody.

All: Hello, Hazel!

Are you ready? All: Yes!

- Are you ready up there?

- Are we?

- Because we want to dance.

- I can't believe you just did that!

♪♪

- So it's settled. Back first thing in the morning.

- Over here, Sarge.

- Sir. - What are you doing here?

- I just—I was at a loose end.

I thought I'd come over and...

- What happened to the promise?

- You know, she... - I see.

- I'm getting old.

- Over here.

- Is this the missing girl?

- Yeah. Mary Claverton.

- How do we know?

- She still got her school uniform on, John.

It's not nice.

Something's been feeding on her.

- Ugh!

- She's been laid out in the earth very carefully.

- Be 17, wouldn't she?

- Yeah, last year at school.

Whole life in front of her.

- We're getting more and more of these, guv.

More and more sick blokes carrying out

their disgusting sick little fantasies.

You know what?

We should never have given up on capital punishment.

- Our job to tell the parents.

- And that bloke Tony. I couldn't believe it.

When we were in the pub, he's got his hand on my leg,

and he goes to me,

"Do you want my phone number, Shell?"

- How gruesome! Yuck!

- I was like, "Nah, Tone, you're all right."

Can you imagine doing it with him?

- Yuck!

- Oh.

Night, Mr. Holdaway.

Night, Haze.

- Shelley?

- Yes, Mr. Holdaway?

- What do you think your dad's going to say

when somebody tells him you were on live television tonight

with some dirty old man sticking a camera up your skirt?

- He won't say nothing, Mr. Holdaway.

He's never said anything in years.

He just sits there.

- Did you see me, Dad?

- I saw more of you than I was expecting.

- You're not happy, then?

- Hazel.

We'll talk in the morning.

- Oh, hi. Hurry, hurry.

- Not in?

Is that her there?

- That's her there.

- Mrs. Claverton?

Have you found her?

- Mr. Claverton, I'm Detective Chief Inspector Gently,

This is Detective Sergeant Bacchus.

- Have you found her? - Yes.

We found Mary's body in Pinnock Woods.

I'm very sorry, Mr. Claverton.

How did—how did she die?

- We don't know yet.

- Well, was there any— Had anybody...

- We don't know.

We're waiting for the postmortem.

- When was the last time that you saw Mary, Mrs. Claverton?

- The last time... - When she went out that night.

She was going to meet her mates at the bus stop,

and they were going to go dancing in Newcastle.

She didn't arrive at the bus stop,

and they went without her.

- What time did she leave the house?

- About...

- Quarter past 6:00 for the half 6:00 bus.

Told her to be back by 11:00.

The last we saw of her, the last time I saw my bairn.

- You told the police at the time she went missing

that she had a boyfriend on the quiet,

and that's where she'd gone.

- Was it him?

- What can you tell me about him?

Was he at school?

- She never told us anything, not me, anyway.

- Not even a name.

She lived in a different world to us.

We weren't a part of it.

Well, I...

I thought she was with this lad, you know, somewhere.

- She'd only packed a couple of things.

We thought she'd just run off for the weekend, but...

After a week...

- Can we have a look in her room?

Thank you.

Guv. Guv.

What they talking about, "different world"?

I mean, how could they know absolutely nothing

about a boyfriend important enough to run away with?

And how come the investigation didn't find

a single thing about him?

- What, you think there was no boyfriend?

- Who is he? Invisible Man?

What we looking for?

Hey, guv. Look, look.

Who are these, the Beverley Sisters?

- They're writers, I think.

Mary was always writing.

Her school thought the world of her,

had her going to university.

Girl from here, going to university.

- You must have been very proud of her, Mrs. Claverton.

- Well, I tried to be.

I didn't really understand her poems or anything,

or the names of the people in them.

- This different world,

is this the world that Mary was in when she wrote her poems?

- I suppose so.

- And this boyfriend, did he belong to that world,

do you think?

- Do you mean, was he made-up?

No, he was real.

- No, might he have lived in that world as well?

- We may have lived in different worlds,

but we were both women,

and I knew she had somebody,

somebody important.

- Me husband's crying.

I've never seen my husband cry.

- I am so sorry.

So what were the names of her friends at school?

- Well, her best friend was Hazel Holdaway.

She was always round at her house.

She practically lived there.

- This Hazel Holdaway, was she one of the friends

at the bus stop the night she went missing?

- He's upset. Best leave him to it.

- Is Joe often violent, Mrs. Claverton?

- He'll go for a walk.

Then he'll go to the pub when it opens.

♪♪

- Report says cause of death was suffocation.

- The boyfriend, then?

He wanted her to go away with him.

She refused. They had a fight.

It got out of hand.

- She packed a bag, John.

- All right, then.

Well, she agreed to go with him

for, like, a dirty weekend or something,

and then she changed her mind.

He went mad.

- In her statement, Mrs. Claverton said

that she always wore a little gold necklace with an "M."

- Yeah, well, it's not there. That's all there is.

- No.

A present from her father on her 16th birthday.

Okay.

You ready for this, Sheila?

Hmm?

- Mrs. Holdaway?

I'm Detective Sergeant Bacchus. This is Chief Inspector Gently.

- Is this about Mary Claverton?

- Could we speak to Hazel, please, Mrs. Holdaway?

- Have you found her?

- Is Mary safe? Have you found her?

- We need to talk to Hazel.

- I taught Mary literature.

As Deputy Head, I also run

the University Futures Program at Blackworth.

- What's that?

- Preparing the more able kids to get into good universities.

- Oh, right.

- Was Mary an able student, Mr. Holdaway?

- Mary was exceptional.

- Mary and Hazel were close. Were they best friends?

- Inseparable.

- So you'd known Mary a long time?

- Since she was 12.

- And you thought she was exceptional?

- You put up with the bored and the not so bright because,

once in a while, a girl like Mary comes along.

This is a world of low expectations.

They don't expect their daughters to achieve Oxford.

- Or their sons.

- Mr. Holdaway, we are trying to trace

this elusive boyfriend of Mary's.

Was she seeing any of the lads at school?

- That's not part of the girls' world I get involved in.

- Well, can you think of any reason

why someone like Mary,

with the sort of future that you saw for her,

would throw it all away by running off with a boyfriend?

- 'Cause they're stupid.

- You thought she was stupid?

- No. No. Mary was very clever.

I just meant girls in general.

- Mr. Gently, Mary was quick. She was confident.

She had it all.

That can breed impatience.

For a young woman like that,

sometimes the future can't come quick enough.

- What did you think of Mary, Mrs. Holdaway?

- Miss Holdaway.

I'm Hazel's sister.

- You're Hazel's sister? - Yes.

- Oh, I thought— I thought...

- Sadly, I no longer have a wife.

- Oh, right.

- Our mother and father separated 15 years ago.

- Hazel going to be long, is she?

- Anytime now.

- Sorry, Daddy. She's at the TV studios.

- I see.

- This is wonderful, Shell.

It's like Mary Quant,

but it's a little bit more dreamy with it, isn't it?

It's like it's saying,

"I've looked at Mary Quant, but do you know what?

I'm going to do it me own way."

I mean, just look at the fabric.

Where did you get it, Shell?

- Ah. It's me gran's.

- She is kidding, right? Somebody tell me she's kidding.

- Tell all, Shell.

I'm going to call you Mary Quaint

from now on, by the way.

- Mary Quaint. Brilliant.

- Like listening to Oscar Wilde.

- I think it's fantastic.

Out of 10, everybody? All: 10!

- Now tell me about your hair.

I love it here.

I love this line you've got, Shell.

You're great at it.

Cleopatra could not have done it better herself.

- Who?

- Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt.

- Ah, the one that got shagged off that Roman?

- Is my friend allowed to say "shagged" on TV?

I kept thinking I was going to hear from her.

Like she'd send us a postcard or something.

Arrange to meet up but then swear us to silence.

- Did she say anything to you, Shelley?

- She was more Hazel's friend than mine.

They were both brainy,

always talking about poems and that

and that John Paul Belmondo.

- Who?

- He's a film star, but he can only talk French.

- Oh, right.

- Girls, we really need to know the name of this lad

that she was seeing.

Hazel?

- She'd drop you clues now and then.

- He's like Mr. Rochester.

- Oh, wow. Fantastic.

All scarred, you mean? - Aye.

He has got scars, actually, Hazel.

Though I doubt you'd be able to see them.

- Why? Where are they, on his bum?

- And why would I not be able to see them, Mary?

- They are inner scars.

Maybe Rochester's wrong.

Maybe he's more Dover Beach or Porphyria's Lover.

I love Porphyria's Lover.

- Blimey, he's Greek now.

Greek and scarred.

That's the worst combination I can think of.

- Have you had sex with him?

- "I laughed him with his patience;

"and the next morn, ere the ninth hour,

I drank him to his bed."

♪♪

- So who was she talking about?

Come on, Hazel, this is important.

- She used to just say things for effect.

- What effect?

Shelley, what effect?

- She was always trying to make Hazel jealous.

Like, "I'm getting all this nookie; you're not.

I'm a woman; you're a little girl."

- Was there anybody in particular

she was trying to make you jealous of?

- It was rubbish. She's just making things up.

- About who?

- Shelley, about who?

- Mr. Nugent. - Who's he?

- The music teacher.

She knew Hazel had a pash for him.

- I didn't. - You bloomin' did.

We all did.

I've still got one.

- So she told you there was something

between her and this teacher?

♪♪

- Okay, do that bit again.

With rubato, okay?

Feel it. Breathe. - Yep.

♪♪

- Thanks, love.

- Whoever you are, you obviously can't read.

Go somewhere else.

Yes? - Mr. Nugent?

- Who was it?

- That's what we're trying to find out.

- I meant, who told you this stupid story?

- Does it matter?

- Yes, it does, as a matter of fact.

To her memory, and, quite frankly, to me.

It was him, wasn't it? Her father.

Well, he's an idiot.

He totally over-reacted

over a completely innocent situation.

- Which was what?

- Tell me his version first.

- No, you tell us your version, if you wouldn't mind.

- All right.

I passed Mary walking home.

I offered her a lift.

We sat chatting for a moment outside her house.

The next thing I know, I've got her father screaming at me

to stay away from his daughter.

- And that was it, was it? No more to it than that?

- Nothing.

- So why would Mary Claverton tell her girlfriends

that there was something going on between you?

- Am I a suspect here?

- Where were you on the evening of Friday the 29th?

- I am.

You're serious.

- Where did you say you were?

- Home.

- Are you sure?

- My wife has a yoga class on Friday nights.

I look after our two kids.

- How old are they?

- Three and five.

- Ah.

Not really going to swear you an alibi, are they?

- No, so probably I took them with me

while I went to Pinnock Woods and murdered a schoolgirl

I was rather fond of.

Do you think?

- Stranger things have happened.

- Do you ever bother to engage your brain

before you open your mouth, Sergeant?

- Would you care to answer my question now, Mr. Nugent?

- I have no idea why Mary would tell anyone

there was anything between us.

No idea.

- We have no sightings from the night

Mary Claverton disappeared.

We've got no witnesses.

All that we do know

is that she left her home wearing a necklace

and carrying a bag, and these are both missing.

Yeah? Right?

Cup of cocoa with your bedtime reading, sir?

- It's Mary's poems.

They're not bad for a 17-year-old.

- "Do you feel a stirring? No. Why not, fair damsel?

"There's something missing inside you.

And what might that be, oh, wise and beautiful child?"

That's rubbish. It doesn't even rhyme.

And a proper poet wouldn't write it

on the back of a beer mat.

- Ever hear of Dylan Thomas?

- No. Who does he play for?

- There's two different handwritings.

This isn't a poem. It's a conversation.

- About what?

- No idea.

But I know what this is. Have a look at that.

Written two weeks ago. She's dated it.

- "His hands weathered with time,

"that distance between us, reach down and touch...

Touch my"...

That's illegal, that, isn't it?

- Yeah. What's that tell you?

- Older man.

- Fair bet.

And this...

is the father, presumably.

It's a poem called Joe.

"Black anger roars inside him."

Maybe Nugent was onto something, eh?

"He leaves his anger inside me,

"streaming, streaming, streaming inside me..."

- What? No.

Let's have a look.

- Whoa. Listen to this.

This is three weeks ago.

"The future pushing, stomach taut,

my skin on the stretch."

- Full postmortem report on Mary Claverton, sir.

Pathologist wanted you to see it straightaway.

- She was pregnant.

- Two months.

Go and get Joe Claverton.

- Yeah. Yeah. I will.

What if he's inside the pit? - Go in and get him.

- What are you staring at, you?

- Who, me?

- You accusing me of something here?

- Why? Should we be?

- If you had learned that Mary was about to run off with a man,

what would you have done?

- I'd have stopped her. - How?

- By force, if I had to.

- Tell me about the incident with Mr. Nugent.

That ponce.

Who told you about that?

- He did.

So?

- I look out the window. He's got my daughter in his car.

What do you expect us to do?

- You can't think of any innocent explanation for that?

- No, I can't.

- Mm.

Mary wrote about...

your "black anger"

roaring inside you.

- All right. All right.

Let's get down to basics, shall we?

You...

didn't like Mary having sex with her boyfriends, did you?

Why?

Did you want to keep her all for yourself?

- I loved that girl.

- Yeah, well, we're not really talking about love, are we, Joe?

We're talking about something else.

Mary was pregnant.

- What do you mean?

- Was it yours?

- What happened, Joe?

- Where do you think you're going?

- Dancing.

I'm late for the bus. Me mates are waiting.

Just get out the way, will you?

- What's the matter now?

Let her go, will you? She'll be late.

- I don't believe her.

Show us the bag.

- It's none of your business. - Joe!

- Just get your hands off!

- Joe, don't be an idiot!

- Don't you dare hit her, you moron.

Aye, a moron. Hear us?

You are a cretin.

- So what happened?

Did you catch up with her?

- Yeah.

I asked her to come back

and tell us exactly what was going on.

And?

She told us she despised us.

She took the necklace off I give her

and threw it in my face, and off she went.

- And this is the necklace

that previously she had worn all the time?

- Aye.

- So what does that tell you

about the way your daughter was feeling about you?

- Where is this necklace?

- I shoved it in me pocket.

- You went back indoors? - No.

- Where did you go? Did you follow her?

- No. - No, no, no, no. You did.

You followed her.

You stopped her from meeting this lad

that she was seeing, eh?

And then things got out of hand, and eventually, you know.

You buried her that night.

And you took that necklace from her body,

and you kept it as a keepsake.

Where is it?

- I didn't have it in the morning.

I must've lost it. - Oh, right.

Mystery solved.

According to the report,

the bruise on her face was recent when she died.

- Exactly. Exactly.

She was murdered on that Friday night.

- Why are we not charging him? - Not on this evidence.

No, we'll keep him here for a while.

Mary left home in time to catch that bus.

She just never turned up at the bus stop.

She was going somewhere else. But where?

That's the missing bit.

- Well, do you think the girls have told us

everything that they know?

- I'm not sure about Hazel.

There's clearly an edge to their friendship.

They weren't just friends. They were rivals.

- Don't you think this is a little unseemly, Hazel?

- A little what, Dad? - Unseemly.

- You know, for someone who loves words,

you do choose some funny ones.

Why don't you just say what you mean?

- All right, then. Tasteless.

24 hours after your best friend's body is discovered,

and off you go pursuing your new career?

- Hazel. If I were you, I'd just...

- You're not me, Margaret.

And it's not a new career, Dad.

It's just a chance to do something different.

And Mary would've done the exact same.

They're not asking me next week or next month.

They're asking me tonight.

- So all I want you to do is introduce Hazel.

- Just say, "Here's Hazel"?

That's all I'm required to do?

- That's the one, Tone.

She'll do the rest.

- Lovely.

- In your own time, then.

- Okay, standby. Right, camera two in five.

- Four, three, two, one...

- Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls.

- Couldn't quite manage it, could he?

- This is the part of the show where I ask them

to slowly, slowly turn down the lights.

Boys, take hold of your girls.

Get closer, because it's smooching time.

And just remember... - Lights.

- Uncle Tone will be keeping a watchful eye

on your smooching styles.

- Oh, shut up, you fool.

- Two. One next.

♪♪

- ♪ All around the world ♪ - One. Two next.

- ♪ There are hearts beating slow ♪

♪ Yours is one I won't let go ♪

♪ Inside the town ♪

♪ I hear the people sing ♪

♪ Sing their songs of love ♪

♪ And what love brings ♪

♪ Anywhere you are ♪

♪ Anywhere you are, you know that ♪

♪ Your beating heart is always mine ♪

all: ♪ Bring me my spear ♪

♪ O clouds, unfold ♪

♪ Bring me my chariot of fire ♪

♪ I will not cease ♪

♪ From mental fight ♪

♪ Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand ♪

♪ Till we have built Jerusalem ♪

- ♪ In England's green and pleasant land ♪

- Sit down.

♪♪

- There will of course be a full service for Mary

at a later date.

But I thought that you,

that all of us who knew Mary well and felt close to her,

should meet briefly today to mark her passing

and to share our thoughts and feelings with each other

and to sing her favorite hymn.

Mary Claverton lit up our lives.

And so we feel robbed.

David has asked if I would sit in on this conversation

as a friend and a colleague.

I hope you have no objections.

- None at all.

- Right.

We are now certain that Mary Claverton

was in a relationship with an older man.

- Based on the ravings of Joe Claverton.

- No, you've already admitted

that you had her in your car at least once.

- I didn't "have her in my car."

- Where did you have her?

There are also things that Mary wrote

which strongly suggest the same thing.

- Such as what?

Am I mentioned? - Poetry.

Poems about how she felt for an older man.

- Is there a sonnet called My Fling With David Nugent?

- You'd be in court by now if there was.

- Perhaps I can shed some light on this, Chief Inspector.

- Please do.

- I've read these poems.

Or if not these same poems, then similar ones.

Mary often showed me her work.

- Have you read the one about how she felt

when this man touched her sexually?

- Yes, I think I did. - Didn't that alarm you?

- No. And let me tell you why.

Mr. Gently, I'd be very wary of drawing conclusions

about a student's private life

from the fiction they wrote for me.

Mary was very mature as a writer, it's true.

She explored a darkness,

the far edges of experience— Imaginative experience, that is.

- It's all made-up, is it?

All this, all made-up, is it?

English literature, made-up, is it?

Shakespeare? Is that made-up?

- Pretty much. - No. No.

What's the one with Marlon Brando in it?

The, um...

Yeah, you know...

Julius Caesar. Is that made-up?

Hmm? No, no, it's not.

It's a true story. There's facts in that.

- Yes, but in another play,

he set a scene on the coast of Bohemia.

- So?

- Bohemia's landlocked.

- Why does he do that?

- He wanted a child to be abandoned on the shore

and its guardians to be eaten by a bear.

- What? On a beach? - Mm-hmm.

- Which one is this?

- Does it matter? - Just tell us.

- The Winter's Tale.

- Right, well, I won't be wasting me money watching that.

- Can we just get back to the point, please?

So a poet, even a young girl like Mary,

can make up facts about their lives

which are not necessarily the truths

about their lives, yes?

- Especially a young girl like Mary.

A poem about a difficult father, for example,

might well have been influenced by her own home life,

or just as easily by Sylvia Plath's.

And a poem about an older man who,

far from resenting her, holding her back,

loves her, makes her feel special,

allows her to grow into a woman...

Well, you can see why a girl like Mary

might want to invent such a figure, can't you?

- Well, yeah, I can see that.

- I don't think that Mary made up this bloke at all.

- Literary critic now, are you?

- No, no, I'm a copper who's looking at a girl

that you had in your car who was then murdered

on a night that you don't have a proper alibi for, okay?

I think we should go and have a word with your wife,

don't you?

- Do we really have to?

- Yeah, yeah. We really do.

- Okay.

- Can I have a word, Mr. Gently? - Yeah.

- No running.

- Sir.

- You think there's nothing to this story

about Mary and Nugent, don't you?

- I'm certain.

Look, we all know it happens.

News Of The World is full of it every Sunday.

Silly young male teacher runs off

with even sillier 17-year-old girl.

Frankly it's bound to happen.

Almost the better the teacher, the more likely it is.

Both: Sir.

- They get close to us.

We become a focus for them.

Before you know it, they fall in love with us.

- Sir.

- Yes. I'm afraid so.

It cost me my marriage, and it was nothing.

Nothing.

She wrote me a sonnet.

I wrote her one back.

It was a literary device, a conversation in verse.

- Conversation?

- There are lines,

and you don't cross them.

Both: Sir.

- And you definitely didn't cross a line with this girl?

- No, definitely not. It was all in her head.

- What happened to her?

- She changed schools,

went up to Cambridge, got a first.

And then blow me if she didn't throw it all away.

Married a Canadian farmer at the age of 24.

- Can you remember her name?

- How can I forget after an episode like that?

Juliet Twyler.

Of all the names in the world, wouldn't you know it?

She had to be called Juliet.

- Huh.

Well.

Thank you very much, Mr. Holdaway.

- Good-bye, Mr. Gently. - Good-bye.

♪♪

- Yeah, not till last week. You know, when...

Anna, please be careful with that ball.

And then it's only round the corner,

So I'm back by 25 to 9:00.

- That's all. Thanks, pet.

- Why are you asking?

♪♪

Kids, we're not going to the shop anymore.

We're gonna go home.

- Hi-ya.

- What were you doing in the back of the car?

- Asking us a few questions.

- 70 minutes?

- Yeah, 70 minutes.

I mean, he'd need a helicopter, wouldn't he,

to get from his place, meet Mary, murder Mary,

bury her body in Pinnock Woods, and then get back in time.

So we forget Nugent, which is a pity.

Joe Claverton, then.

Yeah, yeah.

No sign of any necklace in the park.

What a surprise.

And his alibi was shady, wasn't it?

He went out on a pub crawl on his own, okay.

But so far, the only thing we've got

is a barmaid telling us that she saw him in his local

at half past 6:00

and then not again until chucking-out time.

So where was he in between?

Burying his daughter. - He hasn't got a car, has he?

Pinnock Woods is miles away.

- Well, maybe he's got a mate with a car

and... you know?

- She was laid out in that grave,

not just chucked into a hole in the ground.

Her hands were crossed over her chest.

She was laid out flat, tidy,

with love.

Could be Joe.

- Or the older man she was seeing.

- I want to talk to Hazel and Shelley again.

They haven't told us all they know.

- Are we charging Joe?

- No. Let him go.

He's got a funeral to sort out.

- Hazel! Over here!

- Hazel Holdaway,

ladies and gentlemen, is 17 years old,

a schoolgirl from Durham.

We first saw her in the studio audience last week,

and for the rest of our run, this fresh face of the North

will be co-presenting Upside Down

alongside Tony "Tone" Hexton.

- Over here, Hazel, love.

- What'll you be doing on the show, Hazel?

- I'll be doing fashion and make-up

in the studio audience.

I'll be talking to the bands.

And Pip here— Sorry; Mr. Hogge...

He wants me to lip-synch along to some various hits,

which is a good thing, really,

because I cannot hold a note for toffee.

- So what are you going to be doing, Tone?

- I'll be standing next to Hazel, looking pretty.

- Yeah, I'm not here to interfere with Tony's job.

Although I might have to have a word with him

about some of his jumpers.

- That's right, sweetheart. Put the boot in, why don't you?

- No, no, sorry. I—it was a joke.

- Course it was. - Tony, maybe you...

- Shut up, you.

Ladies and gentlemen, children,

Upside Down is my creation.

I invented it.

The music, the audience, the lip-synch,

the smooching time:

all my idea.

- Tone. - I'm not finished yet, old boy.

A little story, very quickly, about the world we now live in.

Wow.

This world, mm?

Used to belong to professionals like me.

Radio, TV— You name it; I can do it,

because I'm a consummate professional.

All considered worthless by Mr. Hogge here.

Nothing matters to him

except how old you are, whether you look natural.

So I have made a decision.

The people from Come Dancing want to meet,

and I'm off to the Smoke.

It's over and out from Uncle Tone.

I resign.

Upside Down is all yours now, sweetheart.

- Over here, Hazel. - Hazel.

- I don't think I can to do it.

I don't like this world.

- This is the chance of a lifetime, Hazel, literally.

Half the girls in England would kill for a chance to do this.

- Ask one of them, then.

- Just think it over.

We'll talk again later.

- Ugh, no, not them two again. We'll be here all night.

- You waited at the bus stop

where you were supposed to meet Mary to go dancing.

- Yeah. I told you.

- That right, Shelley? - Yeah.

- Okay, but Mary didn't turn up.

You waited for her, but she didn't turn up.

And then the bus came, and you got on it,

and you forgot all about Mary.

Shelley?

- Mary was always missing the bus.

We just used to wait for her and get the next one.

- Why didn't you wait for her on that Friday night?

- Well...

Hazel said she wouldn't be coming.

Is that all right, Haze?

- Yeah.

Don't worry, Shell.

- Hazel,

why wasn't she coming?

- She said she was starting a new life,

that this night was the start of a new life.

- A new life? What new life?

- I don't know. - With this man?

- And was that it? She said nothing else?

- No.

She just laughed at us.

- Why?

- She was always laughing at us,

always letting us know

that she was getting what I wanted and couldn't have.

And there was no need to be like that.

But she was.

It's how she needed to be.

She was just a little girl, you know?

- Is there a little part of you, just a little part,

that's glad that she's out of the way?

- You are a really nasty piece of work.

Do you know that?

- Or would you prefer that she was around

so that you could gloat over your new career?

- I haven't got a new career.

I turned it down. - It's true.

£100 a week. She's turned it down.

Hey, Haze, they'll have to get Beer Mat Tony back!

- Beer Mat Tony?

- Yeah, Uncle Tone. "Time to smooch."

- Why'd you calling him Beer Mat Tony?

- Oh, 'cause when we were in the pub,

he wrote his number down on a beer mat for us.

- Did you keep it?

- No, I chucked it on the floor on the way out.

- Did he meet Mary Claverton?

- Yeah.

They met here after the show.

He took her for a drink.

- And did he offer her anything, by any chance?

- Expect so.

He offered me something; I know that.

- Like what?

- A new life in London perhaps?

♪♪

- I don't think Uncle Tone's going to turn up, do you?

- Would you?

He didn't turn up at his hotel last night.

- We'll find him.

♪♪

- I'd like my husband to read something.

They're words that he wrote the day that our Mary was born.

Most of you here know that Mary was good with writing,

as was her dad once.

So...

Please, Joe.

- "I touched your hand for the first time today,

"and around my finger it curled.

"I hope one day it will reach away

"and circle the entire world.

"I long to hear where you're going to go,

"who you're going to see,

where you're going to roam."

- Have we had the pleasure?

- I'm Detective Chief Inspector Gently.

This is Sergeant Bacchus.

- Yes! We have met, Sergeant!

I remember it now.

- When was that? - The day music hall died.

My act was taken in for questioning.

- Do you know this girl?

- I don't know. Does she say I do?

No offers made under the influence of drink

shall constitute a contract.

- She's not saying anything. She's dead.

- Is she the girl they— - Yep, that's her.

You knew her. - Did I?

- Ah, yeah.

She was part of the Upside Down crowd.

Remember? You chatted her up.

Took her out afterwards.

- I'm afraid that doesn't narrow it down.

Look, I'd like to help, but...

- Oh.

Is this your handwriting?

- Well, some of it is.

- And the rest of it's hers.

- Oh, I...

Do you know, I didn't even know I knew the poor girl.

That's terrible.

That's shocking, actually.

All right. What can I do to help?

- You can start by trying to remember when you met her.

- Let me see that photo again.

Yes.

Yes. I remember her.

Beautiful girl.

Full of confidence.

- You try to pull her?

- Of course I tried to pull her.

So I wrote, "Do you feel a stirring?"

which is rather embarrassing.

To which she replied, rather wittily, "No."

And I put, "And why not, fair damsel?"

- Then she wrote,

"There is something missing in you."

And then you wrote, "And what might that be,

oh, wise and beautiful child?"

And then it all stops. Why?

- Where did you find that? - She kept it.

- Sorry to disappoint you, Uncle Tone,

but you are not my type.

The man that commands my heart has poetry in his soul,

and you are just a boring old fart in a jumper.

- Which you have to admit,

on all the available evidence,

is probably true.

- So who commands her heart?

Eh?

Who has poetry in his soul?

Hey, Joe Claverton read a poem at the graveside.

- How's his alibi coming along?

- Still got a hole you could drive a bus through.

- Go on a pub crawl.

Check them again. See if anybody saw him.

- I've done it. - Well, do it again.

♪♪

How long have you worked here?

- 20 years.

- Do you remember a girl called Juliet Twyler?

She left the school before her time

about 15 years ago.

- No. No, I can't recall a Juliet.

There was a Jasmine Twyler.

Bonny little thing.

She left in a bit of a hurry.

- 15 years ago?

- That would be about right, yes.

- Did she go to Cambridge?

- Jasmine Twyler go to Cambridge?

She'd be lucky.

She left before the Easter term in the lower sixth.

- Did she marry a farmer and go to Canada?

- No.

- John, get in.

- Where are we going?

- Excuse me.

I'm looking for Jasmine Twyler.

- That's me.

Cambridge and Canada, eh?

Well, you never know what your life might be.

Would that have been mine?

I wouldn't trade that for what I've got.

Yous only know what you know.

- And he taught you English?

- He taught us all sorts.

He taught us life.

- Were you in love with him?

- I was 17, Sergeant. How do I know what I was?

- What happened?

- Well...

He ran a sonnet class on a lunchtime.

And I loved poetry.

I loved it. And...

He wrote a sonnet for the class.

Just to demonstrate the rhyming scheme.

Actually, to show off.

And it was about me.

Can you imagine how flattering that was?

So...

I wrote a crap sonnet back.

I pushed it under his door, you know.

And then he writes another one back.

A conversation, he called it.

And so on.

And then yous have got to meet for a coffee

to discuss the feelings expressed in the poetry,

blah, blah.

Look, I don't need to draw yous a picture.

You know the rest.

- Wasn't there anybody to help you?

- Mr. Gently,

it's always the girl's fault.

Maybe as that'll change.

But hell's bells, it's a slow change.

It's still us to blame, as far as I can tell.

- Need a hand with the bins, Mum?

- No, no, you just go and do your homework.

- Nice lad.

What did you call him?

- Naught out of ten for originality.

Peter.

- Jasmine, I have to ask you one last question.

Where did you go to make love?

Was it Pinnock Woods, by any chance?

- Ah...

No.

It was usually in the room at school.

- It's a bit risky, that, isn't it?

- If I got noisy,

he used to put his hand over me mouth.

♪♪

- Can you remember why your mother left?

- Yes.

She couldn't cope with the new bairn, I think.

Hazel was only two.

She was mentally unstable.

My mother was mentally unstable.

Poor Daddy.

- Where is she now?

- Who knows?

The snow melts, and then where is it?

- Maybe they shielded you from the real reason

that the relationship broke up.

Do you think?

- What real reason?

No, because I'd have known,

because even before she left, I was doing everything.

I was bringing up our Hazel,

and I was washing and cooking for Daddy and...

all she did was just lie on the floor,

crying.

Stupid woman.

- Crying about what, Margaret?

- Who knows?

He'll be back in a minute. You can ask him.

- Where is he?

- Who?

I think...

I think he said he was going to put some chrysanths

on Mary Claverton's grave or something like that.

Something—something stupid.

Anyway, I've done lamb shanks, so...

- Is Hazel here?

- Hazel? - Yeah.

- Oh, we don't see Hazel.

She'll be off with her new fancy friends.

- Margaret, do you think that Hazel ought to take this job

on Upside Down?

What does it matter what I think

about anything?

- Can you tell me where your father was

on the night that Mary went missing?

- He was here with me. Why?

- Did Mary come here?

- Why are you asking me these stupid questions?

- Why?

Why did she come here?

- Full of airy ideas as usual.

To talk about poetry, I expect.

Honestly, these lamb shanks'll be ruined, and I've put...

I've put rosemary in them as well.

I wouldn't care.

- So Mary Claverton met your father here

on the night that she disappeared, yes?

- No. Daddy wasn't here.

- You just said he was. - No.

- Do you know where he is now?

- He's gone to stop Hazel from ruining her life, he said.

- Go and get him.

You're coming with me, Margaret.

- I have procured, from the landlord,

his last remaining bottle of champagne.

I'm not sure the vintage is up to much.

- Why are we celebrating?

- We are celebrating, my lovely,

news that the Orwellian institution that is ITV

loves our fresh face of the North so much

that they are considering

taking our little regional show nationwide.

- Now all we need is our fresh face.

Now, then, give us a kiss on those icy lips, my lovely.

And don't make it a Judas kiss.

- Get your hands off her.

- And you are?

- Dad, it's all right. Really.

- No, it's not all right.

You're coming home.

Now go outside and get in the car.

- No, I don't want to get in the car.

I want to stay here.

I've got things to talk about.

What, back at his place?

- No, Dad.

- What about half an hour, Peter?

Shall we say half an hour?

- Who said you could call me Peter?

- Just being friendly. - We're not friends.

Come on, Hazel.

Everything's up for discussion. Get in the car.

- No, Dad.

Everything is not up for discussion.

Go and live your life.

I've got a different life to live.

Pip. - Yes?

- Do you still want me?

- Ooh, like wildfire.

- Well, then, it's a yes.

I was born to be me.

- Bastard, you can't take my daughter away from me!

- All right, sort it out.

- Hazel. You're coming with me.

Come on. - Hazel.

- Yes, Pip?

- Monday morning. - Bright and early.

- Are you the man in Mary's poems, Peter?

Like you were in Jasmine Twyler's?

- Who?

- Jasmine Twyler. Your "Juliet."

- You fancied yourself as her Romeo.

Tell us, Peter, did you have fantasies about schoolgirls?

- Nothing happened between us.

It was all in her head. I've told you.

- Except a 15-year-old son called Peter.

- Mary Claverton came to your house the night she died.

- No.

- Well, Margaret says that she did.

- You've spoken to Margaret?

- Yeah.

- What else did she say?

- Ooh, lots, didn't she?

Lots and lots.

We want to hear it from you.

- She came to see me.

- And?

- She was pregnant.

- Like Jasmine Twyler.

I don't make a habit of this, believe me.

- Just the two, then.

- These were special girls.

- Very.

- And you abused your position of trust

by having sex with both of them.

- It was love.

Yeah, yeah, right.

- When you got Jasmine Twyler pregnant, what happened?

- It was hushed up. - She paid the price.

- Who else paid the price, Peter?

- Hazel.

She grew up without a mother.

- And Margaret.

She dedicated the rest of her life

to looking after you, didn't she?

- Well, Margaret would've only ended up

doing the same thing for some other man.

Harsh but true.

- Did you murder Mary Claverton, Peter?

- I had to.

- Why?

- She was pregnant.

It was the end of my career.

- But it was love, wasn't it?

Hm?

Why didn't you just own up, write a poem, marry her?

- Still the end of my career.

- And your career means that much to you, does it?

- To me. - What, more than anything?

- Yes.

- So Mary came to your house to tell you

that she was pregnant, yes?

- It wasn't at the house.

I was working late at school.

She came there.

- So why does Margaret say that she came to the house?

- Margaret doesn't know what day it is half the time.

- And this was the first time

that you found out that she was pregnant.

- Yes. - Right.

- She kept insisting that she wanted the child,

that she wanted me.

She was out of control.

She wouldn't listen to the damage it would do to me,

to my daughters.

I couldn't let that happen.

I didn't mean to hurt her.

I was just trying to...

make her shut up.

I put my hand over her mouth.

She kept struggling.

♪♪

I lost control.

I suffocated her.

I buried her.

♪♪

♪♪

- Braces.

♪♪

- I've made a total mess of my life,

haven't I?

- Hats off to him making a run for manslaughter.

"Oh, I just put my hand over her mouth,

and she stopped breathing."

That's cold-blooded murder in anybody's book.

"Oh, she got pregnant.

"I didn't know what to do with my career.

It was the end."

- Something's not right with this.

It's not.

- Guv, we got a confession.

- Why did Margaret say that Mary came to the house that night

if she was at the school with Peter?

- Margaret's barking mad. It's like he said.

She doesn't even know what day of the week it is.

- Where's Hazel?

- Room two.

- Your father's confessed to the murder of Mary Claverton.

- No.

That's stupid. Why's he saying that?

- They were lovers, Hazel.

She was pregnant by him.

- What?

- Are you trying to tell me you didn't know?

I thought she told you everything.

- She never told us anything about me dad.

Ever. There was nothing— Nothing to tell.

- So who was she taunting you about, then, Hazel?

Who was the older man,

the Rochester figure with the scars

that only she could see and you couldn't?

- She was talking about David Nugent.

- Oh.

Why him, then?

- It's like Shelley said. She knew I fancied him.

- Sit down, Hazel.

Come on, sit down.

What scars does David Nugent have?

- How should I know?

- Are you telling me that Mary was having an affair

with David Nugent and not your father?

- No, I'm no— I'm not saying that.

- No, because the scars were caused by the break-up

of your father's marriage to your mother

and the fallout of his having got another schoolgirl pregnant

15 years ago.

- Why do you think your mother did a bunk, Hazel?

- On the night that Mary died,

you and Shelley waited for her at the bus stop, correct?

- Yeah.

- But she didn't turn up,

so you and Shelley went dancing together, correct?

- Yeah.

- What were you wearing?

- What?

- What were you wearing?

- A dress. Why?

- What color was it?

- I can't remember.

- Can't remember? Fashion's important to you.

- It was blue.

- Are you sure?

- Yeah. It was blue.

- Bring Shelley in.

I think your father loves you very much.

Doesn't he, Hazel?

- There, Shelley.

- The night you and Hazel waited for Mary at the bus stop,

you went off dancing together.

You remember? - Yeah.

- Yeah.

And Hazel was wearing a red dress, yeah?

- Yeah.

- Are you positive about that?

- Yeah, if she says so. - She said it was blue.

- Yeah, it was blue.

- Hazel wasn't there at all, was she, Shelley?

- You can tell the truth, Shell. Don't worry.

- I went on me own.

She turned up later at the dance.

- How much later?

- A lot later.

- Come on, Shelley.

- So where were you that night, then, Hazel?

Had you arranged to meet Mary?

- Hazel cannot account for her whereabouts

on the night of the murder.

- She was out dancing. That's been established.

- No, she wasn't. - Was she with you?

- Hazel, you must tell them where you were.

This is idiotic.

- Why should I take any notice from a dirty old man like you?

- Just tell them where you were

and get home and be with Margaret.

- That was my friend you were shagging, Dad.

- Hazel...

- That wasn't even the first time, was it?

That's the reason I don't have a mother, isn't it?

Because of you.

- None of that matters now. - It matters to me.

- Daddy?

Hazel?

Daddy, what's happening?

- Why's she been brought here?

This is an outrage.

Margaret doesn't belong in a place like this.

- What did you ever care about Margaret?

You stole her life.

- Hazel, don't talk to Daddy like that.

- Look at yourself, Margaret. He paralyzed you!

How many young girls' lives have you ruined

just so you could go on seeing yourself

as some man with a soul full of poetry?

You have no soul.

You're all the same.

Pathetic old men so frightened of your dead-end lives

that you suck the life out us.

- Who are we talking about here, Hazel?

- I'll tell you where I was that Friday.

Same place I was the Friday before

and the Friday before that.

Every Friday for the past three months, in fact.

Like a fool.

Between half past 7:00 and half past 8:00,

on me back on his carpet in front of his fire

with David Nugent, hoping against hope

that what we were doing would stop him ever growing old.

A young girl my age, Dad,

is allowed to make a mistake and move on.

But a man your age isn't!

People like you and David Nugent are meant to take care of us.

Not use us.

- Can we have the truth now, Mr. Holdaway?

- I've told you all you need to know.

I murdered Mary Claverton.

- No, Daddy.

- Be quiet, Margaret.

Margaret?

- No.

- Margaret?

What do you want to tell us?

- We're going to get married.

Oh, don't worry. Nothing will change for yous.

The baby's due in the summer holidays,

and I'll go back to school,

and you can take care of the baby.

I mean, you're used to it.

And then we could all live here together.

- Daddy never said anything about this.

- He'll agree.

I just need to talk to him. Where is he?

He should be here. I told him I was coming.

This is the night that changes my life forever.

Oh.

Oh, dear.

I'm going to be your mum.

- You never really noticed me.

I wasn't clever.

I wasn't pretty.

What did I have to do?

- Peter Holdaway, I'm charging you

with attempting to pervert the course of justice.

You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say

may be given in evidence.

Do you understand?

Follow me.

- Margaret Holdaway, I'm charging you

with the murder of Mary Claverton.

You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say

may be used in evidence.

Do you understand?

- No, not really.

- Margaret...

growing old alone in prison.

He'll get a lighter sentence, but still,

he'll grow old alone too.

That's what he couldn't face.

You should find yourself another wife, George.

I mean it.

- Maybe, John.

What about you? It's the weekend.

Got any plans?

- Who, me? - Yeah, you.

- Do you really want to know, or are you just being polite?

- No, I'm just being polite.

- Right, well.

I, me, John Bacchus...

am on a promise.

♪♪

Hello! All: Hello, Hazel!

- Hello, everybody, because we are going nationwide tonight

for the very first time!

And we are very pleased to welcome you all here

to the Northeast.

As someone once said to me, "I hope I die before I get old."

But, hey, it's Friday night,

and the world goes Upside Down!

♪♪

- ♪ You said that you don't need a thing ♪

♪ But what you need is what I bring ♪

♪ I said I bring my love to you ♪

♪ Hope you change the tune you sing ♪

♪ When I show up with your diamond ring ♪

♪ I bring my love to you ♪

♪ But you don't want me to ♪

♪ I got to live on ♪

♪ I got to live on ♪

♪ I got nothing else to do ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh with my love ♪

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