All language subtitles for Father Brown S02E09 The Grim Reaper.DVDRip.NonHI.en.BBC

Get up!

What time is it?

Time you did some work.
Lying around like a useless lump!

Sorry, Dad. I don't feel well.

You think I take the day
off when I feel poorly?

Feeble little runt!

Look at you. Pathetic!

You're meant to be a man!

But what did I expect?
You take after your mother.

What did you say?

You heard.

You're just like your mother.

I'm nothing like my mother!

- Pathetic, am I? A little runt?
- Get off me!

Why should I? Now
who's the feeble one?

Things are going to
change around here, Dad.

Things are going to change!

- Mrs McCarthy.
- Honestly!

I go away for one week and
when I come back, what do I find?

Chaos!

That is a slight exaggeration.

Ooh, has someone done the
Mass lists or the bidding prayers

or written up the
weekly collection?

There have been
slips in administration.

Slips? It's a
complete landslide!

And who on earth is
responsible for that?

We decided to let
Mrs Tindall have a turn.

She's been waiting for
a very, very long time.

I am very, very well
aware! Look at that foliage.

It's half-dead!

SHE SCREAMS

Who would have thought
flower arranging could be

so dangerous?

I think it was the
eryngium that got me.

- What?
- Sea holly?

Oh.

Well, you take the eye
drops three times a day,

and my wife will make you an
appointment to have the stitches out.

- Are you all right, Mrs McCarthy?
- Yes, fine.

Well... I'm still a bit shaken.

Now you know why I don't
have flowers in the surgery.

Although I do have
one very beautiful rose.

So, when would be
convenient for you?

I suppose I could do any
morning except Tuesday.

Nine o'clock, Tuesday.

I said any morning
except Tuesday!

Um... Sorry!

Tuesday afternoon?

Oh, for heaven's sake! Am I
surrounded by incompetence?

Oona? Oona?

I'm sorry.

No, no. I'm sorry.
What's the matter?

It's nothing.

No, it's not nothing. Just
look at the state you're in.

It's just...

..I think I'm going
to have a baby.

Come on! Come on! Move!

HE GROANS

HE COUGHS

BELL RINGS

Must stop smoking.

HE GROANS

HE COUGHS

Traditionally, Sid, shouldn't
you be inside the car?

That's very funny.

I've been saying to Lady F we
should get this serviced for weeks.

Does she listen? Mind you,
only 200 yards to the garage.

I will share your load.

Ah, would ya?

Right, I'll steer.
Right, you ready?

One, two... What?

That was Alfred. You
know, Farmer Tatton's son?

Well, if he carries on riding like
that, he won't be for much longer.

'What did he say?'

I haven't told him.

Why on earth not? He's a
doctor, for heaven's sake!

It's just...

Last year, I lost a baby.

Oh.

And afterwards, the doctors
said I could never have another.

Adam was sad, so
perhaps it was a blessing.

He's too old for a family.

Oh, he may have said that,

but I've known him since before
you were... Well, for a very long time.

And he is the kindest of men.

I'm sure he'll be
thrilled at your news.

I've tried to tell
him, but recently,

he just seems so distracted.

He's a very busy man.

I know,

but please, don't tell
anyone till I know for sure.

I am the soul of discretion.

Though I may
have to start knitting!

- Excuse me!
- You're excused.

What do you want?

Isn't it obvious, Oona?

Alfred wanted to see you.

Right, well, you'd
better come through.

So, what seems
to be the trouble?

Well, I need some painkillers.

And where's the pain this time?

It's the headaches.
They're all the time now,

like someone's banging
a hammer on my skull.

Look, Alfred.

I do have to be careful about
how many of these I prescribe.

I'm in agony here.

I think we both know what you
could do to reduce the headaches.

Give it to me!

All I'm saying is
that certain actions

have inevitable consequences.

What, like if you marry
a woman half your age,

then she'll run off
with somebody else?

Let's just stick to your
health problems, shall we?

Don't bother. I reckon you've
got enough problems of your own.

Alfred! Alfred, wait!

I don't know how you
put up with that old fool.

You want to spend
some time with a real man.

Come see me at the barn.

Not today. Not tomorrow.

Never!

I'll see you later.

Adam?

That boy gets more
like his father every day.

Do you fancy some lunch?

No. I've, um, got
some errands to do.

Now, about these
annual reports...

Don't say it.

Say what, Mrs M?

That I... That I look
like Lord Nelson.

I was going say
Long John Silver.

HE LAUGHS

Pay no attention.

I'm sure Dr Crawford did an
excellent job with your stitches.

He did.

Do you know, he spent ten
minutes looking for the right

shade of thread to
match my eyebrows?

How very meticulous.

And then I bumped into
Alfred Tatton at the surgery.

He is turning into a very
unpleasant young man.

Mm... He does
seem to be a lost soul.

You lost something, Mrs M?

Oh, I left my eye drops at the
surgery. Well, it'll have to wait.

Now, about these annual reports,

which you have done
no work on whatsoever.

Yes, well, that sounds
like a marvellous idea,

but I did promise to speak to
Mr Sims about the Bishop's visit.

- Mm.
- What?

And I could pick your eye
drops up on the way over.

It's a good idea.

But...

I think we need...

Oh, you were a while.

I ran into Mrs Gillespie.

You know what a
chatterbox she is.

Are we going for lunch?

Ah, well, Mrs McCarthy
forgot her eye drops,

but before that, I'd better
give Alfred his prescription.

Right.

I'll be as quick as I can.

I tell you what. Why don't we
take a picnic up to Tawny Lake?

BELL RINGS

- Oh, Father!
- Oona!

I'm looking for eye drops.

I think Mrs McCarthy
may have mislaid them.

Oh, my husband's
just gone off with them.

Really? Where to?

Tatton Farm.

Well, it's not too far.
Try and catch him.

And I can have a
word with young Alfred.

Everything all right?

Yes. Yes, I'm fine.

Everything's fine.

Mind my bike!

Alfred?

No! No!

Father Brown.
Everything all right?

No. Everything is not all right.

That'll do for now.
Thank you, Doctor.

I don't know how this
could have happened.

What a terrible accident.

Yes. It must have been.

These machines
are so unreliable.

I'm sure there'll be
a full investigation.

He was such a
good boy, you know.

Couldn't do enough for me.

Maybe God took him
because he was short of angels.

- Inspector?
- Father Brown.

Isn't it interesting?

Whenever there's a suspicious
death, you're never far away.

Does the Grim Reaper
give you advance warning?

I don't want to
step on your toes.

Obviously.

But why do you consider
this death suspicious?

Several reasons. One of
which, Alfred fell backwards.

But if he'd been loading the machine,
he would have been facing forwards.

It's difficult to believe that an
experienced operator would

suddenly fall in,

whereas it's very easy
indeed for him to be pushed.

So what brought
you to Tatton Farm?

I wanted to catch Dr
Crawford, but his wife said

he'd already left for Tatton
Farm, so I came after him.

Interesting.

What is?

You both made the same journey,

but you went by bicycle
and the doctor came by car.

So how did you
manage to get here first?

Just double check all of that.

Thank you for your
time. We'll be in touch.

And if you ever need to talk, the
door of St Mary's is always open.

Thank you, Father.

Because I was a surprised when
you described your son as an angel.

I know, in the past, you said
that living with him was a trial.

We had our ups and downs,
but he were a good boy.

I prefer to concentrate
on the happy memories.

What was your last
memory of Alfred?

What?

When did you last see him?

I need to lie down,
Father. Good day to you.

'It's awful.'

What do they think happened?

It was an accident.

Of course.

He fell.

It would have been very quick.
I mean, I don't think he suffered.

Er... There's just
one thing I must do.

Adam, there's just something
I've been meaning to tell you.

What?

Dr Crawford.

Can we have a word?

So, you went straight from
the surgery to the barn?

That's right. I parked round
the corner in Lovage Lane.

These country roads play
havoc with your suspension.

Mm.

I'd say that's a
two-minute journey.

And yet, you're unaccounted
for, for nearly ten.

Well, I may have stopped
somewhere along the way.

Really?

Actually, yes. I think I did
stop to admire the lavender.

Is that so?

It's rather magnificent
this time of year.

Hm.

What time was this exactly?

Well, er...

Quarter past, 12.20.
Does it matter?

I'd say it does matter.

John Tatton has
just lost his only son.

Yes. Yes, he's had such
a terrible run of tragedies.

He must constantly be
asking himself, why me?

Mm.

You know, if I had to name
anyone, I'd go for John Tatton.

- Would you?
- Such a cruel man!

He never seemed able to
look his son straight in the eye.

Bit late for the
post, isn't it, Mrs M?

There's no name on it.

"Alfred Tatton was killed
by Dr Crawford." No!

Who could have
written such a thing?

Who indeed?

Inspector, did you
want to see me?

Always a pleasure, Father,
but no, I'm here for the funeral.

Have you seen these?

Several dozen letters,
sent all over town.

We're looking into who sent them

and the possibility
that it could be true.

Sid? Sid?

I want you to try every
typewriter in Kembleford.

The library, village
shop, school.

Even the one Mrs McCarthy uses.
And see if you can find a match for this.

Why do I get all
the boring jobs?

Because it is vital
that we find the author.

They're called poison
pen letters for a reason.

Mr Tatton... My condolences.

You're very kind, Mrs McCarthy,

but the best thing in my life
has been taken away from me.

Of course. If you'll excuse me.

Oona!

Don't you know its bad luck to
come to a funeral in your condition?

Sh! I don't want anyone to know.

You still haven't told?

It just never seems
the right time.

And now these awful letters!

Oh, you shouldn't pay a
blind bit of notice to them.

Nobody else has.

In nomine Patris, et
Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

And where is your husband?

I don't know.
- -Amen.

GLASS SMASHES

- I'm so, so very sorry.
- You're drunk!

Drunk? Of course I'm not drunk!

Showing up at my son's funeral
in that state! It's disrespectful!

Well, your son was hardly
the most respectful of people.

How dare you!

- You seen this? Hm?
- What is it?

I think you know.
It's true, isn't it?

It was you! You're a murderer!

It should be you in that grave!

- Stand back!
- Calm down, please.

You're just going to
let him get away with it?

We are investigating
your son's death,

but would ask you to be patient.

It's all right.
Don't make a fuss!

Why is everybody staring at me?

I'm sorry, Father,

but I had to come here in
case I did something I'd regret.

You made a very
serious public allegation.

I don't regret one word of it.

What makes you so sure that
Dr Crawford killed your son?

You remember how my Eileen died?

A road accident.

Eileen used to drink

till she could hardly put
one foot in front of another.

One day, she went
to see Dr Crawford...

..drunk out of her mind.

He gave her a prescription for a
headache and sent her on her way.

She walked
straight into a lorry.

I'm sure if he could
have foretold the future,

he would have stopped her.

He sent my Eileen to her
death and now he's killed my boy.

I'm sure of it!

Did you send
those letters, John?

No, but I'd like to shake
the hand of whoever did.

I can't prove he did it, but
I know he had the motive.

Really?

Oona was having an
affair with Alfred, you know.

He often used to boast about it.

What's wrong with you? I've
never seen you drink before.

- Maybe it's time I started.
- What?

Seeing Alfred, a young man,

suddenly taken, it makes you
think. Maybe it's time we started living.

But you were drunk
at a funeral, Adam!

Yes, and in a few
hours, I'll be sober,

whereas Alfred...
Alfred will... Poor Alfred!

I'm sorry.

It's these letters, isn't it?

I just need to lie
down for a while.

Yesterday, you were
going to tell me something.

What? No. No, it's
nothing. Go and lie down.

Oona.

I'm sorry. My husband can't
see anyone at the moment.

Indeed, he did seem
somewhat overwrought.

He does get upset
whenever a patient dies.

Yes, of course.

And you? Were you upset?

What do you mean?

Well, were you
close to Alfred Tatton?

No.

I saw him when he came
to the surgery, but that's it.

Corona Standard.

Er, yes, it's my husband's.

Why don't you type a notice to say
that afternoon surgery is cancelled?

No! He just needed
a few minutes' rest.

I'm sure he's better now.

Then I'll pop in and see him.

KNOCKING

Just a minute.

Yes?

Father Brown!

What on earth?

Yes, I'm feeling much
better, thank you.

There's been a lot of talk
about your behaviour today.

My behaviour? All I was trying
to do was pay my condolences.

Yet you told John
Tatton you were sorry.

What exactly are
you sorry about?

I'm sorry that I didn't
get to his son sooner...

..that I paused along the
way, I'm sorry that I can't bring

people back from the dead.

Sorry. Things just
keep going wrong.

Have any idea who
wrote this letter?

Some very troubled individual.
I won't let it bother me.

That's the spirit.

Didn't know you
were an astronomer.

It's just... Just
something I dabble in.

Yes, everyone
should have a hobby.

Was there anything else?

No.

I'm so sorry, but they
wanted to speak with you.

What's this about?

We can tell you at the station
if you'd like to come this way.

- Inspector...
- And you can stay right where you are.

I have brought your
laundry. A clean cassock.

Yes.

And I've sorted out the
mess you left the accounts in.

No.

Oh, they asked if you'd
like to be the next Pope.

Yes.

I'm sorry, what were you saying?

Oh, nothing
important. What's that?

It was written on the typewriter
that lives on Oona's desk.

The same typewriter that
wrote the poison pen letters.

How do you know?

Look at the O.

Yes?

Every single one blocked in.

But that means...
Do you think that...

Right, well, I have tried
every typewriter in town.

Not one of them matches.

I think that deserves
a cup of tea.

Or something stronger.

I'm afraid we've discovered
something unpleasant.

The letters were
written by Oona.

Oona?

Hello?

Sid's shepherd's crook.

Father Brown?

What have you got there?

Adam's star charts.
Your husband said I could

- borrow them.
- I thought lying was a sin, Father.

Yes, it is.

And you haven't been honest
about your relationship with

Alfred Tatton.

Of course Alfred used to chase
Oona. It was embarrassing!

He seemed to be
obsessed with her.

And how did she feel about him?

He repulsed me.

Did you ever see him
outside of the surgery?

Oona?

All right! I did go to the
barn on the day that he died,

but only to tell him to leave
me alone, once and for all.

Why did you wait so
long to talk about this?

- Because I knew it would look suspicious.
- And it does.

But what is even
more suspicious is this.

I've no idea who
wrote the letter.

A patient with a grudge?

I think this was written by
someone who knows you very well.

Who wrote the letter?

'It wasn't me.'

It was written on
your typewriter.

I could never
write such a thing.

The police will
believe otherwise.

I can't write English.

What?

All my education was in Gaelic.

I can't read or
write English at all.

You see, despite your lies,
someone out there knows the truth.

I'm telling you the
truth. I didn't kill him!

Though you admit he
had designs on your wife.

Yes, he had excellent taste!

And you knew you
were going to lose her.

Oh, don't be ridiculous!

Still, you and Oona had 18
months together. Not a bad innings.

Inspector, just stop this.

Because how could you ever
compete with such a young man?

Just stop it, whatever
you're suggesting!

One so much more virile!

Just shut up! Just shut
up about Alfred Tatton!

All right. It was me.

What?

I did it.

I killed him.

I cannot believe I was
fooled by that woman!

Well, if that's Ursa Major...

This eye patch must
have made me blind!

- ..then that should be...
- Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

What if it isn't Dr Crawford's?

What if it's...

The pole star!

Are you listening to me?

Mrs McCarthy, don't move.

What? Stand perfectly still.

Are you all right, Father?

Yes, unlike the poor soul who
will have made these drawings.

Father, I need to...
- -Ah, Sid!

You're here to tell me

that Dr Crawford has
been charged with murder.

- Well, yeah, that's right.
- And indeed he's confessed.

Well, yeah, he has.
How do you know?

Because it's
written in the stars.

Father Brown, I do hope you're
here for religious purposes,

and not to meddle.

I don't know what you mean.

Perhaps you should think
about leaving things to

the professionals from now on.

Never forget, the
professionals built the Titanic.

But an amateur built the Ark.

Hello, Adam.

Hello, Father.

Thank you for coming.

I hear you've confessed.

I knew Alfred had designs on
Oona, so I followed him to the barn

and told him to leave her alone.

And he laughed at me.

Said I was a clapped-out old
has-been, who could never please

her the way he could.

So I climbed the ladder and I
threw him into the metal jaws.

I'd like to say it was
a moment of madness

but I think I went
there intending to do it.

Well, thank you.

What for?

The story.

And when you're
released without charge,

you may think about taking up
a new career writing pulp fiction.

Oh?

You wrote those poison
pen letters, didn't you?

But why would you write
something that could lead to

the hangman's noose?

I think the answer
lies in these charts.

They're not stars, are they?

They're marks.

Maybe moles on a human's
body. Perhaps a patient?

But not just any old patient.

Someone whom you
observe every day.

They are a self-portrait...
of your body.

If anyone could see through me

I might have known
it would be you.

Is there something
you want to confess?

Bless me Father
for I have sinned.

It has been three weeks
since my last confession.

And they've been busy weeks.

What are those marks?

Tumours on the skin.

The first sign of a
virulent form of cancer.

I've only got a few months left.

So sorry.

Well, it's not your fault.

When I found out, my first
thought was to take my own life.

But suicide is a mortal sin.

And then came
that day in the barn.

'I'd gone to give
Alfred his prescription,

'and he was blind
drunk, as usual.

'As I entered, he turned to see
who it was and he lost his balance.'

There was nothing I
could do to save him.

I see.

There was a whisky
bottle on the floor

and I knew that John had lost
his wife to alcohol and I thought

it might break his heart if
his son went the same way.

So I picked it up
and took it to my car.

'And then when I came
back you were there.'

Father Brown!
Everything all right?

I can see how you would
want to protect his reputation.

But why frame yourself for a
murder that was never committed?

Because I've only got
a few months left to live

and a hangman's noose
is a less painful end.

And I'll be saving Oona
the trouble of nursing me

and the pain of
watching me rot away.

And John. Poor John.

It must be the worst thing in
the world to lose your only child.

But he might gain some comfort
from believing that it was a crime,

not some random act of God and
that the murderer had been punished.

'As I walked
towards you that day,

'with that machine in the
background, I thought...

'I can't save Alfred.

'But I can help the
people left behind.

'Before making a quick, painless,
if rather theatrical exit myself.'

So, it was almost therapeutic
writing those letters.

Knowing they
would start a rumour.

Which would lead in a few
weeks to a guilty verdict.

This is simply suicide
by another name.

It will bring no peace to
John. It will break Oona's heart.

And it will horrify anyone
who has ever known you.

No, you're wrong.

They'll be happy to see me hanged
because they'll think I'm guilty.

Besides, it's too late.

Public opinion is against me and it's
my first court appearance next week.

When they ask me how I
plead and I say that one word.

- It's only a matter of time.
- It is not too late.

Oh, but it's been good to
have someone to confide in.

And it's nice to know that thanks to
the seal of the confessional nothing

I've said can go
beyond these walls.

'Little runt!

'You're just like your mother!

'Things are going to
change around here, Dad.'

John!

John!

'Things are going to change!'

Father.

Did you know Dr Crawford's
appearing in court?

- When?
- This afternoon.

Right.

Well, he'll soon get
what he deserves.

And I can look him in the eye
as the noose goes round his neck.

And I can say,
"This is for Alfred."

And when you've done
that, will you feel less guilty?

It was me, Father.

I killed him.

Not with my own hands,
but I drove him to it.

How?

Three years ago, with Eileen.

I didn't do enough for her,
when she was in the gutter.

Someone said she
ran in front of that lorry.

And I knew Alfred
drank, the way she did,

which was why I
was so hard on him.

I wanted him to knuckle down.

But what if I drove him to this?

Was he having an
affair with Oona?

I don't know.

Perhaps it was just a
teenage boy bragging.

But you needed someone to blame?

I don't really think Dr
Crawford did it, Father.

Why would he?

If you truly believe that...
you should come to the court.

Please.

Please God, whatever happens
to me, will you keep my child safe?

And help me to understand
why my husband did this.

Father?

I've just been
talking to Mr Tatton.

He's decided to
come to court with me.

Right.

I wish that you
would do the same.

Just to say goodbye.

To a man you promised
to love, to honour...

Father Brown?
- I'm sorry.

I got a bit close to
the threshing machine.

It's this chaff...

Chaff?

Yes, I got some in
my cassock last week.

It seems to get everywhere.

But I do my husband's laundry
and his suit was completely spotless.

Was it?

Yes, it was!

'A general practitioner is
to appear in court today,

'charged with the murder
of one of his patients.

'Dr Adam Crawford of Kembleford,
Gloucestershire, is said to

'have deliberately pushed
19-year-old Alfred Tatton to his death.'

SHOUTING

Adam, why are you doing this?

- We know you didn't kill Alfred.
- I know he drank.

Are you trying to punish me?
Because I've done nothing wrong.

Just go, Oona.

I can't.

Everyone thinks I was with
Alfred and that's why you killed him.

People spit at me in the street.

I did a terrible thing.

And now I have to pay for it.

No, you don't. You're lying and
you're destroying my life. Why?

You have to forget me. You
have to leave Kembleford.

You can start again.

With a child who'll
never know their father?

What?

I'm going to have your baby.

Adam. I love you!

MAN COUGHS

Are you Adam Henry Crawford
of Kembleford in Gloucestershire?

- I am.
- Adam Henry Crawford...

..you are accused of the
wilful murder of Alfred Tatton.

How do you plead?

Not guilty.

- I've come to see my husband.
- Take her through.

You'll get into serious trouble one
day. Interfering in police business.

I don't believe this
was police business.

This was a terrible accident,

where, for whatever reason,
someone decided to take the blame.

Perhaps on this occasion,
you might be right.

Indeed.

And perhaps some things
are too important to be left to

the professionals.

How could you tell
such a terrible lie?

For a long time now, I've
not been very well, and...

I couldn't bare the thought
of you seeing me suffer.

So I thought this would
be the easy way out.

Is it serious?

You will get better?

I don't know.

But doctors said you
could never have children,

so what do they know?

Is there anything we can do?

I can find out.
I'm not giving up.

What are we going
to call this baby?

Well... do you
want a boy or a girl?

I want a girl. I want
a girl just like you.

I think we should call her Hope.

Mrs McCarthy! Turned
your back on piracy, I see.

Are you... knitting?

No.

Well, yes, obviously, but
for no particular reason.

You knew Oona was
expecting, didn't you?

All right, but I was
sworn to secrecy.

Even though it would have
been quite useful for me to know.

Oh, talk of the devil.

How are you, Oona?

I'm great, thanks, Father Brown.

How's Adam?

He's fine, he's... looking
forward to the future.

Oh, that's very good to hear.

Of course, I never suspected
either of you of anything.

HE LAUGHS Course not.

And I hope you
will accept this little

garment as a token of
our ongoing friendship.

Thank you.

That's very impressive
knitwear, Mrs McCarthy.

But I think I read that women
of Breganmore have much more

chance of producing twins.

Old wives' tales.

No, it's true. Sure, I'm
one of triplets myself.

Oh...

Indeed.

I'll have to get some
more wool, then!

Yes, I think you will.

Happy knitting.