All language subtitles for George Gently - 04x01 - Upside Down.webrip.xvid-river.English

Have you heard the
Beatles new record?

No running. Sorry, Miss.

so the question posed
by many Shakespearean critics,

including FR Leavis,

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

are Anthony 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 Anthony,

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

Essays in on Monday, please.
Yes, Sir.

Did you hear me, Hazel and Shelley?
Yes, Sir!

♪ The night we met I knew that

♪ I needed you so

♪ And if I had the chance I'd

♪ Never let you go

♪ So whilst you say you love me

♪ I'll make you... ♪

Heard from Mary? Total silence.

Where'd you think she went?
Gretna Green.

Serious? Did he propose? 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 does that mean?

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

She wouldn't tell me his name.

Right. Out of ten. Ten.

Me? 11.

♪ Oh, since the day I saw you

♪ I had... ♪

Joining the orchestra, girls?

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

Oh, you just would, wouldn't you?

♪ So won't you please

♪ Be my, be my... ♪

Ooh! Ow! Anyone smell gas?

Out tonight, John? I might be.
Didn't really want to know, did we?

No. I'm just being polite, actually.

All right then, if you really want to know...
No, no, none of my business. Fine!

Ah, got you.

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

I. John Bacchus. Me.

I'm on a promise.

Who is he? Ha-ha...

♪ So come on be

♪ Be my

♪ Be my little baby... ♪

Does your dad know where we go? No.

He just knows we're out. Me sister
covers for us.

On camera one, two next...

Welcome to the show.
It's Friday night!

Put your work in a 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 for you tonight.

Camera two, one next... It's so fabulous,
it's a crime to use the word fabulous for it.

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

I dunno 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...

Stand by three.
Please welcome, The Walking Dead!

Start low,

I want to see legs, please.
And, if possible...

♪ Well

♪ She likes to talk dirty but I keep
her running nice and clean

♪ Talks dirty
says if she feels

♪ I love the way she looks

♪ And she knows that
all my friends are green

♪ The way she looks
all my friends are green

♪ Hey there, Suzanne

♪ You really gotta hold of me

♪ 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? Just keep your
distance, yeah?

What's your name, anyway? Barry.

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

Oh, me lumbago...

Oh, to be witty. Chat up time, Tone.
Two next... 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!

It's not funny. You old blokes, you think
it's all about sex for us but it isn't.

They all say that at
first, ladies and gents.

That's just what you'd like the
world to be about. 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 like this one,
I'd like her, after the show, please.

I put on a new dress
and I feel like I was born to dance.

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?

Get off us, will you?

Would you want to see us again?
Or not? Not.

Eurgh! What's that smell?

Are you all right?

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Give her the mike. Give her the mike.

I've just had a little idea.

Hello, everybody!
- Hello, Hazel!

Are you ready? ALL: Yes!
Are you ready up there?!

Are we?

Because we want to dance!

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, er...

I'm getting old.

Over here.

Is this the missing girl?

Yeah. Mary Claverton.

How do we know? Still got
her school uniform on, John.

It's not nice.

Something's been feeding on her.

Urgh!

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

17, wasn't she?
Yeah. Last year at school.

Whole life in front of her.

We're getting more
and more of these,

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,

"Do you want my phone number,
Shell?" Oh, gruesome! Yuk!

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

Can you imagine doing it with him?
Yuk!

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.

Not in?

Is that her there?

That's her there.

Mrs Claverton?

Have you found her?
Mr Claverton,

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Gently,

and 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 post-mortem.

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
six for the half six bus.

I told her to be back by 11.
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.

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?

You think there was no boyfriend?

Who is he? The 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.

I knew she had somebody.

Somebody important.

My husband's crying.

I've never seen my husband cry.

I am so sorry.

Erm... So. What were the
names of her friends at school?

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".

It's not there. That's all there is.

A present from her father
on her 16th birthday.

Ok.

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 Programme at Blackworth.

What's that? Preparing the more able
kids to get into good universities.

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?

Cos 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.

Your 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, Shel.

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 d'you know
what, I'm going to do it me own way."

I mean just look at the fabric,
Where did you get it, Shel?

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 ten, everybody?
- Ten!

Now tell me about your hair.

I love it here, I love this line you've got,
Shel, you're great at that.

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.

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?

Do that bit again.

With vibrato. Ok?

Feel it. Breath. 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 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.

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,

although we do know is that she left her
home wearing a necklace and carrying a bag

and these have gone missing. Ok.
Right...

Cup of cocoa with
your bedtime reading?

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 my...

"touch my..."

That's illegal that, isn't it?

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 on to 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 post-mortem on
Mary Claverton.

The pathologist wanted you to see it
straight away. 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.

Mmmm.

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!

Just get out the way.
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'd given her
and threw it in me 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 into my 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.

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 was 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.

Ok. Standby.
Right camera two in five.

Four.

Three. Two. One...

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls.
Couldn't quite manage it, could he?

Number two next.

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... ♪
On two next. On two three 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... ♪

And on two... ♪ Your beating heart
is always mine. ♪

♪ 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. ♪

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 favourite 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.

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 fell 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 it's guardians
to be eaten by a bear.

What? On a beach?!

A-ha... 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

and 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. Yes, 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 is then murdered on a night that
you don't have a proper alibi for.

Ok. 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.

Ok.

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.

The 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.

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.

A conversation?

There are lines,

and you don't cross them.

Sir. And you definitely didn't
cross the 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.

Well.

Thank you very much, Mr Holdaway.

Goodbye, Mr Gently. Goodbye.

Anna, please be
careful with that ball.

It's only round the corner,

So I'm back at 25 to nine.

That's all. Thanks, pet.
Why are you asking?

Kids. We're not going to the shop
any more. We're going to go home.

Hi-ya.

What were you doing
in the back of the car?

Asking us a few questions.

Seventy minutes?

Yeah. Seventy 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 shaky.

Weren't it? He went out on
a pub crawl on his own, Ok,

but so far the only thing
we've got is a barmaid

telling us that she saw him
in his local at half past six

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.

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 Holdaway,

ladies and gentlemen,
is seventeen years old.

A school girl 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-sync

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.

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... and 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, eh?

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. Result.

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...

Oh, 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. Ok. 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 of your new career?

I haven't got a new career.

I turned it down. It's true.

Hundred pound 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, cos 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 me 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? Spec so.

He offered me summit, I know that.
Like what?

A new life in London perhaps?

The House of the Rising Sun

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 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 dunno. 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 yes. 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...

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.

And 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,
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? Huh?

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. 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.

HORN BEEPS

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. Youse 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, er...

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...

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 you have got to meet for a coffee
to discuss the feelings expressed in the poetry...

blah, blah... I don't need
to draw youse a picture.

You know the rest.

Wasn't there anybody to help you?

Mr Gently,

it's always the girl's fault.

Maybe 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?

Nought 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 my 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? Yes...

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. 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?

Like wildfire.
Well, then, it's a yes.

I was born to be me.

..take my daughter away from me!

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 school girls?

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?

Yes.

What else did she say?
Oooh, 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 only've 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?

Huh?

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 me 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 the 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
didn'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 my 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. Ooh.

Why him, then?

It was 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 not saying that.

No, because the scars were caused by the break
up of your father's marriage to your mother.

And the fallout that is 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?

What were you wearing? What?

What were you wearing?

A dress. Why? What colour 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, Shell.

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 paralysed 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 of 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 seven
and half past eight.

On my 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 you.

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? Yes.

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!
- 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 nothing else to do... ♪

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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