Grantchester

WILL: No one is without sin.

Whatever we do, God loves us, sins and all.

Will!

This changes everything.

WILL: We are very different people.

I have faith and you don't.

ELLIOT: How is it you hurt everyone around you and always come out unscathed?

(grunts) GEORDIE: You are better than this.

WILL: Maybe I'm not as good as you think.

(thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) WILL: When the knights of old rode out on their steeds, they upheld ideals of courage, courtesy, and chivalry.

Of all the indignities!

Sh.

The steeds may have changed.

The young men before us can still represent those same ideals.

Though some of you held less positive opinions when you first heard their bikes racing through the village.

But I ask you to remember another biker who rode in here four years ago, full of bravado and not always enough common sense.

(congregation chuckles) And in time, you welcomed me into this community.

There is no clearer demonstration of the noble values of these bikers than their participation in today's charity motorbike race.

If you haven't got a ticket yet, Mrs. Davenport still has a few spare.

All for a good cause.

Yeah, 'cause of me thrashing your arse!

Like hell he will.

(giggling) (congregation murmuring) (clears throat) (murmuring stops) I ask that you join me in a special prayer.

Oh God, we dedicate ourselves and our bikes to your service.

We vow to ride them responsibly and we thank you for the promise of adventure, the thrill of the open road.

(stifling laugh) BONNIE: It was funny.

Mrs. C was about to have a conniption in the aisle.

(chuckles) WILL: Thanks for coming.

(all greeting) BONNIE: Hello.

The Burnhams-- mention their dahlias.

Oh.

Mr. and Mrs. Burnham, congratulations on the dahlias.

MRS. BURNHAM: What a rude man.

Their dahlias died.

That's the whole thing with the Lowells.

Ah.

Mrs. Kirk, damp hands.

Ah.

BONNIE (hissing and exhaling): Oof... You are so good at this.

Spycraft.

It's all we talk about at mother and baby group.

(muttering): Here she comes.

Motorcycles inside a church?

LEONARD: You bring in cabbages and marrows at the Harvest Festival.

My cabbages don't leak all over the flagstones.

Dish soap, it's the only thing that'll shift it.

Mark my words.

What happened to your resolution to be more accepting?

He may be a loving God, but he has his limits.

Well, I think it's very impressive.

I'm just sorry I won't be at the race today.

How is the house?

Hoping to pop by tomorrow.

Please do.

I'm having a little trouble with the neighbors.

We made a list!

I, uh, said we shouldn't have.

Joseph, Ruth, Silas... Ezekiel!

Baby names-- you shouldn't have.

STEPHANIE: I'm just saying, Jimmy, if all vicars were like him, I'd be here every week.

Steph.

What?

He's a right dreamboat.

(chuckles) Leathers!

Inside a church!

JIMMY: She hates you.

(giggles) Look at this!

What's that?

(gasps) WILL: Wow.

He said the light on the little man was so good, he had to catch it.

BONNIE (gasps): These are brilliant, Carl.

Brilliant.

No, they're more than just doodles.

They're beautiful drawings.

Show 'em your logo, Carl.

Hey, look at this.

(Stephanie chuckles) Yeah, I said to Carl we should have a team name, if we ever get serious.

Cambridge Crows.

As the crows fly.

(laughing): Hey.

Hey?

Oi.

Ugh!

(chuckling) You know, Mrs. Davenport, we really must have some decorum.

Oh, well, it's a bit late for that.

(both chuckle) You two get going.

I'll clear up here.

I'm sorry you can't come.

And miss tea with the bishop's wife?

(chuckles) It'll be a riot.

You should see Marion after a couple of Earl Greys and a custard cream.

Oh, there'll be other races.

There better be.

You're not allowed to win unless I'm there.

Oh, not a chance.

This is my shot, eh, Ernie?

(both chanting): Davenport!

Davenport!

Davenport!

Raise some money, not my blood pressure.

ANNOUNCER (over speaker): And if anyone comes away from today hoping to tune up their own vehicle, why not pop along to the Weller Garage?

Ron Weller and Son offer great- value repairs and tune-ups... ESME: I like her leather jacket.

No, you don't.

Oh, let her enjoy it.

Loads of girls are into bikes these days.

One day, you could be riding them.

(chuckles) Oi, Brando.

See ya.

All right.

Oh, now, look at all this.

Well done!

18 pounds in ticket sales.

I just hope everyone enjoys it.

Look what we found!

(kids cheering) Well, you've won that lot over.

Better day out than we had as kids.

Better?

Some of us fought a war so this lot wouldn't have to risk their lives.

(engines revving) It's very noisy!

(engine revving) Hey, listen to that.

Roars like your mum, Steve.

Bloody hooligans, as well.

They're hardly being... TOMMY: You call yourselves the Cambridge Crows?

More like the Cambridge Choir Boys, I reckon.

What you looking at, butthead?

He ain't worth it, Carl.

Sod off back to Newmarket, Tommy.

Hey, let's keep it civil.

You Crows owe me for the dent in my fender the other weekend.

Oh, here we go.

Go on, spit it out.

What are you saying to each other?

We start paying for every stupid thing you do, you'll be a millionaire by Friday.

TOMMY: We'll see how stupid I am when you losers eat my dust on the track.

Only thing you'll eat is a five-knuckle sandwich.

(chuckles) How'd you like these knuckles, eh?

Simmer down!

(bikers shouting) Enough!

Enough!

You wanna race today?

You behave today.

Next time I see one of you acting all tough, you'll be walking home, you clear?

Right then, bikes at the ready in ten, and hop to it!

You and all, Jimmy.

And you, Carl.

GEORDIE: Impressive.

Ron, this is Geordie Keating.

Ron runs the local garage.

Ron Weller.

They've all got the spirit of youth.

Just gotta focus it sometimes.

(both chuckle) GEORDIE: So all this is your fault?

Well...

Right, best of luck.

You're gonna need it.

You know, all these different riders, different levels of skill.

I could still work out handicaps.

You know, realign start positions... No, Ron, Ron, it's for charity.

I know, I know, I know, I know.

Still, I got one of my promoter pals from my Speedway days to pop along.

Frank!

This one's a vicar!

Nothing like a novelty act, eh, Ron?

(both laugh) I think I'm in with a chance.

Yeah, well, miracles are your forte, Vicar.

(chuckling) (engines revving, crowd cheering) ANNOUNCER: As you can see, the riders are making their way to the start.

(exclaim) Ah, now we have Cambridge's own Jimmy Weller... Oi, oi, no late additions!

Hop it!

It's for charity, Ron-- they love it!

IVY: What's that on his helmet?

I think it's a lightning flash.

Go on, then.

(engine roars, crowd cheers) ANNOUNCER: Who's gonna bring it home to the rest of the riders?

A late entry, Lightning... (engine struggling) Very, very mysterious.

Newmarket's Tommy Wilson, and Grantchester's own Will Davenport.

(engines revving, engine struggling) Go!

ANNOUNCER: And they're off.

(cheering) (engine struggling) Go on.

Oh, that poor boy!

CATHY: What's happened to Carl's bike?

(engine roaring) (cheering) JACK: Go on, Will.

Is he winning?

He only bloody is.

Go on, Will!

(engines roaring) Oh, you spoke too soon.

Go on, son, that's it.

The lad at the back's doing very well.

Forget about him!

Will needs to get a bloomin' move on!

(engines rumbling) Here we go.

Open her up, open her up there.

Keep your head down, get down low, there you go.

GEORDIE: Come on, Will.

(cheering and exclaiming) (Will yelping) (all gasp) (whimpers) (laughing) You're all right, then?

He's fine.

Can't corner for toffee, mind.

(laughing): I did it, Geordie.

Just now when I tried to get up, I made the noise.

What noise?

The noise you make when you get out of a chair.

(laughs) Sod off.

Get these moved.

(Ron and Will laughing) (catching breath) Move it.

I'm fine, I'm fine.

Oh, you silly boy.

Did you get hurt?

You're bleeding.

Nah, suit of armor on.

Who's winning?

JACK: Jimmy's in front.

Who's this Lightning?

No idea.

(engines roaring) (crowd cheering) Oh, my stars!

Did you see that?

Come on, Carl!

Go on, lad.

Come on, Carl!

Wow!

(cheering and applauding) There's only one lap left.

(engine revving) I can't watch, my heart!

Move your bottom, Carl!

(laughs) (engines roaring) (cheering) Oh, my goodness, he did it!

Oh, wow!

(cheering) MAN: Come on, Carl!

(crowd cheering) What a race!

Oh, Jack, all that excitement, I think I did myself a mischief.

RON: What a comeback!

That was racing-- that was racing!

ANNOUNCER: ...followed closely by Carl Taylor, who makes an astonishing recovery after a stalled start to come in second.

Put your hands together... My lad, my lad!

JIMMY: Hey.

That was great!

(laughing, congratulating) That was impressive.

Hey, cheers.

(laughing, moans): Stop it!

So, all this time I thought you wanted to be James Dean, when really it was Buster Keaton.

(chuckles) Does this hurt?

No.

Mm.

(exclaims) (gasps) (sighs) (laughing) (sniffs) You put the fear of God into Ernie.

Oh, he's fine.

Mm.

Bet you're glad you escaped all the drama.

Oh, sod off.

Three hours of not crumbing on doilies and "how best to serve God and your parish" instead of a day with my boys?

I don't even believe in God.

Or doilies.

Hm.

This little bugger was kicking like Bobby Charlton.

Let me feel.

Oh, no, wait-- don't be so keen.

It's like you're tuning in a wireless.

And no one really believes in doilies.

(both chuckle) (Dickens whining) GEORDIE (on phone): Yeah, as soon as you can, Will.

Right, right, I'll meet you there.

Bonnie?

Have you seen my bike keys?

Geordie called-- something's happened.

Study?

On the nursery boxes?

Ernie... Will!

Taking the bike out for a spin?

I didn't do it!

(keys clatter) What...

I-- excuse me!

(toast rack clatters) It's fine, it's fine.

Ernie, come back here right now!

(door slams) Let him go.

Sterling support, fellow parent.

No, seriously, you need to be firmer.

He needs dad discipline, too.

Could you... 'Cause of the...

Course.

(exhales) (exhales) (engine rumbling) (wildlife chittering) (motorcycle approaching, engine stops) What is it?

I'm so sorry, Will.

LARRY: Farmer heard bike noises last night.

Found him first thing.

Looks like he had a party.

Bashed over the head, I reckon.

(exhales) (car approaching) (brake engages, engine stops) (people talking, music playing in background) It's the last thing he drew, at the track last night.

Just before he was killed.

(music playing) Geordie, I'll tell them.

(tools clanking) I saw him, just last night.

We'll need to inform his family.

We are his family.

Carl was an orphan.

You okay, Dad?

Here, sit down.

I don't need to sit down.

GEORDIE: When did you last see him?

Ten-ish, last night.

We rode here after the race for sarnies and beers and became a bit of a knees-up.

You were here?

Uh, the house is 'round back.

Popped my head in, clear 'em off home, and... Then me and Jimmy watched telly for a bit.

Did Carl leave on his own?

Yeah, he was the last to go.

WILL: Did he say where he was going?

I, I figured his bedsit.

Dad!

It's those ruddy Newmarket louts!

Tommy Wilson.

GEORDIE: Yeah, what was that argy-bargy all about before the race?

Couple of weekends back, we did a run up to King's Lynn.

Chips on the beach, you know?

Tommy and his mates started on us.

A few punches were thrown.

Undisciplined thugs is what they are.

I teach my boys to have respect for the road.

For their machines.

Not to carry on like damned fools.

Any idea where we might find Tommy?

So, what did you get up to last night?

Wouldn't you like to know?

Well, yes, Tommy, I would.

Hence you being in this station.

Couple of pubs.

(exhales) Couple of ladies.

Cross paths with Carl Taylor?

No.

And no, I didn't kill him.

WILL: You didn't like him very much.

Cocky bugger.

Belting would have done him good.

You like fighting, don't you?

Why?

You asking?

WILL: You look at motorcycle clubs and see an excuse for a punch-up.

You're just as soft as the Crows.

Yeah, you had a fight with them up at King's Lynn.

And again before the race.

Maybe you held a grudge.

After Carl overtook and beat you, you must've been furious.

(snorts) Yeah, did you find Carl drinking at the track?

Or did you invite him there?

He was drawing in his sketch book when you hit him.

What?

Used something large and heavy-- a bottle, maybe.

Or a crowbar.

(scoffs) This is ridiculous.

No, this is a murder charge, Tommy.

This is as serious as it gets.

I'm from Newmarket.

Out of your jurisdiction.

That's not how it works, son.

You're in Cambridge.

You're on my patch.

Well, I didn't do it!

I never saw him!

You don't know your arse from your elbow, so why should we believe you?

You can believe my landlady.

She had her hands all over me.

We were playing board games.

You know who I blame?

The parents.

Night in the cells will be the most discipline he's had in years.

And if it wasn't Tommy, chances are it was a fight over a girl, or a bike.

Speaking of discipline, can I pick your brains?

As a father?

Ernie?

I just want to set a good example.

Be the father I never had.

And quite right.

(knock at door, door opens) Yes, Miss Scott.

DCI Wallace would like a word.

Best make yourself scarce.

Oh, um, where's Carl's bike?

I can show you.

Had that a couple of years back?

Long service?

I did, yes.

By the end of the summer, you'll qualify for early retirement.

(exhales): Well, I suppose I will.

Mm.

You must be looking forward to it.

I don't know, I wasn't planning to...

I'll fully support you, of course.

You've served with distinction.

Earned your rest.

Sir, have I done some... We have to make way for the youngsters coming up the ranks.

Give you back to your wife and kids, eh?

Let the sad sacks like me work all the hours.

(door opens) Christ on a bike, Will!

This is a morgue, it's not a ruddy pit stop.

What the hell are you thinking?

Can you stand back from the petrol tank?

I don't want it to set fire from your sunny disposition.

Sod off.

Anything to share?

No.

It's Elliot.

He's suggested it might be time I consider retiring.

Oh.

Okay.

"Oh, okay"?

This is all your bloody fault, carrying on with his fiance!

She made up her own mind to leave him, a year ago!

He can't still hold a grudge, surely.

Oh, it's personal.

Cheek of it!

Got years ahead of me.

Course you have.

Mm.

So you said no.

Too bloody right.

I will do.

I have put my life into this station.

That stuck-up pen-pushing halfwit's only been here five minutes.

Yeah, tell him just like that.

He'll be putty in your hands.

So, what's the prognosis here?

Well, she is in incredible condition.

Cleanest fuel lines I've seen in years.

Perfect brakes.

But there is this.

You see that line?

Graphite's a conductor.

So you draw a thick enough pencil line over the porcelain insulator... You short the spark plug.

Hmm.

Now, Ron checked all the bikes before the race, so it means it must have happened between arriving and starter's orders.

Carl checks his plug, sees this, and then rubs off just enough to get going.

So Carl would have known it was sabotage.

Might have suspected someone, gone after them for revenge.

Tommy certainly didn't seem to care about a fair fight.

Jimmy, maybe?

Sabotaged his mate?

Or an over-protective Ron, intervening on his son's behalf?

And the one who showed up late.

Lightning.

Mm.

Carl didn't seem too happy with him after the race.

Lightning didn't register, so no records.

Leave it with me-- someone at the garage will know.

Don't worry about Elliot.

Just trying to rattle your cage.

Will.

Get this out.

(birds chirping) LEONARD: And we have a strict no-alcohol policy.

Will!

Leonard-- I'm sorry, I meant to call sooner.

Is this a good time?

Yes, of course-- Keith, this is Mr. Davenport, who very kindly ministers here on Tuesdays.

Keith Pruitt.

Oh, bear with me, Will, I'm just doing the speech.

Ah.

You're to keep your room tidy and clean up after yourself.

Cupboards are for clothes, shelves for books.

But ask me for anything.

My hope is that you'll learn to take care for yourself, and when you leave here, you'll be ready to face the world again.

(chuckles): That all sounds wonderful.

I was in a bit of a tiz about leaving, uh... About... About...

It's okay to say prison.

It took me a while, too.

It's something we discuss in Thursday's meetings.

Winston, would you kindly take Keith to his room?

WINSTON: Certainly.

Come with me.

Thank you, it was kind of you.

So how many's that now?

Keith is number four.

Our first alcoholic.

Former alcoholic.

It's incredible, a halfway house like this.

DANIEL: Run for your life, Will!

Although I suppose a lot of deep and meaningful chats about, uh, "God's place in the lives of sinners" is right up your street.

Oh, throw in some popcorn and beer, and you've got the makings of a perfect night!

Don't linger too long.

I just came to say hello and now I'm hanging doors.

Of which I'm very appreciative!

The reason I wanted your help...

There have been complaints, from neighbors.

"Ex-cons loitering on the street."

I don't want it to be over before it's even begun.

What can I do?

An open letter, to the papers, accentuating the positives.

A respected, married man of the cloth in our corner could do wonders.

Consider it done.

I owe you for this.

Oh, nonsense.

Unless you have any tips for disciplining a seven-year-old boy.

RON: Young'uns need structure.

To know what's expected of 'em.

I might've been a bit hard on Jimmy sometimes, but since his mum passed, I, uh, didn't want him to dwell.

Wanted to show him what he could be.

Hm.

You didn't call by just for advice.

That rider, Lightning, did you recognize him?

No, I did not.

That's probably another one of those Newmarket louts.

Could it have been someone here?

I only know the ones into their engines.

Others are into the music, the scene.

(car horn honking) Back in a minute.

(clears throat) (door opens) (people talking outside) (clanging) (Geordie sighs) What's this?

It's a leaderboard-- the bikers at Ron's were marking up who did a ton.

Bloody hell.

Doing 100 mile an hour on a public road isn't a goal.

It's a death wish.

They were keeping score.

Lightning did a ton on the Duxford Road on a Triumph Tiger.

Here's the gang on their ride down to King's Lynn, with two Triumph Tigers.

MISS SCOTT: This one's registered to a Ralph Thompson.

But don't get your hopes up-- I recognize the name.

He was drunk in the cells all last night, not breaking heads in a field.

And the other one?

MISS SCOTT: A Howard Kidman of Northampton Street, Cambridge.

Great.

(knocking) Mr. Kidman!

Open up, police.

He might not be in.

(engine puttering, children playing in background) (dog barking in distance) (motorcycle engine revving) Bingo.

(car doors shutting) Howard Kidman?

Hey, hey!

(grunts) Oh!

(sighs) Howard Kidman, just the man we're looking for.

You sure about that?

Stephanie Kidman.

The bike's registered in your father's name.

He let me do it up.

Mm-hmm, does he know you race it on public roads?

Risking innocent lives?

Does he know you dress up as a fella called "Lightning?"

(mockingly): Are you gonna tell my dad?

(chuckling) Does he know you're the suspect in the murder of Carl Taylor?

I didn't kill him.

Did you sabotage his bike?

I'm not a cheat!

No, you just pretend to be someone you're not!

Lightning's got quite a reputation.

But not "Stephanie."

Because women can't compete.

Mm, it's such bollocks.

GEORDIE: It's the rules.

Well, rules change, grandad; now you tell me what I can and can't do when you've stripped the gearbox of a Norton Model Seven in under three hours, hm?

Who knew you were Lightning?

STEPHANIE: Jimmy and Carl.

WILL: They didn't mind?

Jimmy thought it was great.

Yeah, he collared Ron's promoter after the race, got him to consider me.

I'm on their radar.

And Carl?

Carl had Ron in his head.

You know, "Female riders demean the sport."

(scoffs) So when you made Carl fight for second place, he threw his helmet at you.

And the rest.

Yeah, once he was loaded, he really let rip.

Wanted to tell Ron, get me kicked out the garage.

That must've made you angry.

Well, I didn't bloody kill him.

You meet him at the field, hit him with a crowbar, save your own skin.

No!

Why not?

You don't care what people think of you.

That's clear as day.

But you care what Carl thought.

You don't know a thing.

You learned sign language for him.

You liked him, didn't you?

I didn't want him dead, I... Yeah, all right, I fancied him.

But just, I wanted him to...

I wanted him to see what I could do.

I wanted him to believe in me.

(sighs) Are we done now, grandad?

The attitude on that girl.

No role models, that's the problem.

It's not her.

No, she was in love with him.

You ever heard of a crime of passion?

Anyway, what possesses you lot to ride around like nutters in the first place?

I find it calming, actually-- freeing.

When I'm riding, it's just me in control.

Whatever else is going on, whatever in life I can't control, I have that moment.

You looked really calm riding into that bale of hay.

(knock on door) Apparently, I'm now subcontracted to the diocese.

Message for Mr. Davenport.

"Assistance needed "at the halfway house on Bosnor Street.

Detective Inspector Keating is not required.

(footsteps retreating) KEITH: Sod the lot of ya!

Every last one!

LEONARD: Please, Keith, just give me the... Hey, hey, hey, what's going on?

Thank goodness, we didn't know who to turn to.

You sods don't know a thing about me, none of you do!

Keith, Keith!

Take it easy.

I don't care if you're a vicar.

You can take a running jump an' all!

This is becoming a police matter.

And have him sent straight back to prison?

What are you saying?!

WILL: Keith, Keith, look at me.

Look at me.

Now how about we go inside, you can tell me all about it.

Eh?

All about you.

Hm?

How about we put the bottle down and talk through everything?

Talk, talk, talk.

It's all you lot wanna do.

You need to shut up and listen!

The world doesn't need any more talking!

Give me that bottle.

(glass shatters) (grunts) WILL: Damn it!

(thuds, grunts) He has to go.

We can't have someone that dangerous here.

LEONARD: I think he's very much alone.

He's exactly the sort of person we're here for.

Keith, are you okay, Keith?

(groaning) It's all right.

(groaning) (flips page) (phone rings) DI Keating.

CATHY (over phone): Still at the office, then?

(chuckles) (yawning): Oh sorry, love, uh, another hour tops.

Don't fret, your spam fritters will keep.

How's it been?

Oh, you know... Same-old, same-old.

I'll see you later.

Bye, love.

(birds chirping, dogs barking) BONNIE: Will!

Look what Mrs. C found.

MRS. C: It was going to waste, tucked away in Mrs. Bennett's attic.

Tucked away or interred?

I'm only trying to help.

No, no, I know, I didn't mean-- Have they caught him yet?

The biker murderer?

(Will exhales) I don't trust those awful rockers.

You cheered them on!

What have you done to your hand?

Have you been fighting?

Well, um, sometimes it's important to take a stand, for what you believe in.

And if necessary, take the hits.

I thought it was "necessary" to "turn the other cheek."

BONNIE: Look, I... (carriage rattling and squeaking) (dog barking in distance) (door creaking) (quiet footsteps) Hey, what are you doing?

That's my jacket.

I don't want you to die!

Ernie, I'm... You crashed.

And you grazed your hand fighting.

I heard you say it.

Right I, I was helping... And that nice man who drew my picture...

He's dead too, isn't he?

He is; he died because someone wanted to hurt him.

(sighs) Whereas I've been risking myself without even thinking.

Not about you, that's for sure.

Maybe the last thing you need is me riding around like-- well, your mum would say "a bloody idiot."

Excuse your French.

Excuse my French-- but she's right.

(sighs) Time to put away childish things.

Consider the bike...

Retired?

(drops keys) ...on holiday.

A long holiday.

You know, I usually am right.

However, we don't mess about with other people's things do we, Ern?

Whatever the reason.

There will be no more Eagle comics this month.

BONNIE: Aw.

He's such a brute.

But he's also correct.

All right, off to bed with you mister.

(quietly): Go on.

Ten points from the Croydon jury of parenting.

This is what having kids can make you do.

Morning!

So I've had a thought-- Yeah, just shelve it a second and check my bleary eyes aren't seeing things-- this last picture, the only landscape.

What?

Mm.

So, soft lines, it's a 5B, like the portraits.

But the landscape is harder.

It's an HB.

Someone else drew this and wanted us to think Carl was at the track when he died.

But he could've been killed elsewhere and moved.

Right.

But shelve that a second.

We know Carl was at the party at the garage with Ron and Jimmy.

But their alibis for after the party, they're hardly cast iron.

Ah, they were both pretty shaken about Carl's death.

I know, and I didn't want to think this of Ron, but he checked all the bikes before the race.

A race he would've done anything for his son to win.

I think Ron might have killed Carl.

WILL: You love your son.

Course I do.

Makings of a fine young man, if he can apply himself.

You do a lot for him.

Bikes, the training, the promoter friend from the Speedway.

Everything I do, I do for my son.

Him and every one of the lads.

If Carl's bike hadn't stalled, do you think he could've beaten Jimmy?

There's a special quality some riders have.

Perhaps one in a hundred.

A sixth sense for the track.

Carl had it.

And look what he did, coming up from last place.

Your own lad, up against that kind of talent.

That could push a father to take action.

To intervene.

Spit it out, Detective.

You sabotaged Carl's bike.

You had the access, the know-how.

Carl spotted it.

And maybe he confronted you after the party at the garage, and maybe it got out of hand.

Absurd!

And a bloody insult!

I loved that boy like a son.

You really did.

So Jimmy doesn't have that, that "special quality"?

Jimmy has heart.

And dedication, but not the talent.

You disagreed, about girls like Stephanie riding.

How did you feel when he petitioned the promoter after the race?

He did what?

GEORDIE: Jimmy asked for Stephanie to be considered professionally.

She thinks she's "on their radar."

Stupid bloody moron!

Who's he think he is, going behind my back like that?

What, about her?!

Christ!

They're not in the same league as Carl!

Jimmy won.

There was only one rider worth watching in that damn race, and he's dead now.

Not the loving father we first thought.

No, at least not to Jimmy.

WILL: When I was a boy, I wanted to impress my dad so much.

No matter how hard I tried, I always fell short.

"No son of mine," "too much of his mother in him," "constant disappointment."

I think you might know how that feels.

Dad's tough, yeah.

But it's for my own good.

Cutting you with words doesn't toughen you up, it bleeds you out.

And it cuts even harder when the affection you want is given so easily to someone else.

To Carl.

What, he was kind to him, he helped him.

Being nice to one person isn't a free pass for hurting another.

WILL: Suddenly, you're racing against Carl in a public event, in front of a racing promoter.

If you lost, God knows what your dad would say.

Yeah, I wouldn't blame a soul for trying to level that field.

Or... ...just slow him down.

He almost won.

He did win.

(laughter) (voiceover): Second place but all the glory.

Frank, mate.

I know that wasn't my best race or anything, but if you give us another chance, I know I can do it better.

(voiceover): You know, I begged that promoter fella to consider me.

He wanted Carl!

Everyone always wanted Carl!

If he'd just sod off to art school, like he was always banging on about, then maybe... Maybe your dad would notice you.

(crying) Now that was great racing, my boy!

(laughs) JIMMY (voiceover): By the time they'd all gone home, Dad was asleep with the TV.

I left him be and started tidying up.

(voiceover): Carl knew what I'd done.

Dad was gonna find out, I just... (tools clanking) (thuds) (breathing heavily) (wet thud) You took his body and the bottles over to the field and you dumped him.

And added that last sketch to throw us off the scent.

I'm sorry.

(crying): I am so, so sorry.

(sobbing) James Weller, I'm arresting you for the murder of Carl Taylor.

You do not have to say anything, unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be given in evidence.

(cuffs locking) Date of birth?

Eighth of September.

What you bringing him in for?

Jimmy's confessed.

No.

No, no, no.

What did you bloody do?

How could you?!

Get him back; Larry, in my office.

Jimmy!

Why?

Why didn't you say something?

What's the matter with you-- you've got a voice, haven't you?

No one can tell you anything, Dad!

I'm never good enough.

Never gonna win, never gonna be better than Carl.

You look at me like I'm rubbish!

What's the matter with you?

Jimmy, you're my son.

You know it, in your bones, you must know!

(whimpers) Jimmy!

Jimmy... (shouting): Jimmy, I'm sorry!

(birds chirping) BONNIE (voiceover): You're a great dad.

And you're not Ron.

You're learning.

I just, um, I don't want my mistakes to affect Ernie.

Or this one.

I don't wanna be my dad.

You are never gonna be.

You're not gonna like this, but I really think I have to quit Tuesday's bible group.

Besides feeling like a hypocrite, there's a strong chance I'm gonna kill Mrs. C if she corrects me again.

Can we discuss this later, please?

Ernie!

Get in here!

Challenge time, Ern.

We can't leave this room until you've made us both laugh.

What have you got?

("Express Yourself Back Home" by Rudy West & the Keys playing) Well the sun ain't shinin', it's a dark and cloudy day (laughs) Come on!

Well the sun ain't shinin' It's a dark and cloudy day (laughs) Well it might as well storm... Do it the other way!

(song continues) (laughing) (phone ringing) Well she packed up her bags And threw them on the 2:19 Well she packed up her bags and threw them on the 2:19 Vicarage?

Hello, Dad, how was your... What?

What?

No, Dad, calm down.

I... How bad?

Mum's had a stroke.

Congratulations, Keating.

Nice work with the biker thugs.

Thank you, sir.

You wanted a word?

Yeah.

I've been thinking about your generous offer of early retirement.

Having mulled on it, I'm not ready to go.

Not yet.

I've still got a lot to give.

Hm.

Yeah, it's natural to resist change.

To hold on to old views of the world.

But it wasn't a choice.

I'm sure you understand.

Thank you.

BONNIE: I'll only be gone a week looking after Nanna, okay?

She'll be right as rain in no time.

You'll be here having an adventure with Will.

Be like Dan Dare and Digby.

Go on, see you soon.

Don't make this any more difficult.

What about your aunts?

Can't Cathy go?

Cathy and Dad'll kill each other-- I'm happy to go.

You shouldn't have to, you're seven months' pregnant.

Yes, pregnant-- not a porcelain doll.

Stop vicaring me!

I am not... (sighs) I am "husbanding" you.

A vicar would say trust in God.

Which is of no bloody use.

Well, at least it gets you out of Tuesday bible group.

You are such an arse!

I'm not an arse!

Stop making this about the parish, or Ernie, or you!

About me?

You're the one running off at their beck and call.

Because they're my mum and dad.

Don't you get it?

(car door shuts) (engine starts, gear shifts) (birds chirping, engine revving) (Will sighs) (keys jangle) (engine roaring) (engine roaring) No!

(tires screech, thudding) (Will panting) No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, please, please!

Oh God please, please wake up!

Wake up!

(panting) (click) WILL: Please hurry!

GEORDIE: How fast were you going?

LARRY: Chuck them in the van.

Bring them all in.

LEONARD: On what grounds?

Because I say so.

You're nothing but a common little thug.

Geordie's retiring.

So don't get cocky.

It's bad, isn't it?

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