Episode 1

A man of God?

Such a shame.

From The Grantchester Mysteries by James Runcie...

People are saying you should get yourself a wife.

WOMAN: When I heard you speak, I knew that I could trust you.

Murder?

Yes, Inspector.

It's murky waters

you're sticking your toe into, Mr.

Chambers.

James Norton and Robson Green star in "Grantchester,"

beginning tonight on Masterpiece Mystery!

(thunder rumbling)

(woman wailing)

Exclus (shouting in distance)

Whoo-hoo!

(laughing)

Careful, Sidney!

I don't think so.

Oh, come on, live a little!

Forgive me, Mother.

(whoops)

Amanda!

Amanda?!

It's not funny!

It is funny!

Terrible weather we're having.

(laughs)

Well... Well...

You may kiss me.

(whistle blows)

Do something for me.

What?

Throw away those shoes.

CONDUCTOR: Train's about to depart!

I'll just pop down to Saville Row, shall I,

and have some new ones handmade?

See you next Friday.

What would Mrs. Maguire say?

"What the Dickens?"

"What the Dickens!"

(train whistle blowing)

(barking)

Mr.

Chambers?

Sorry, Mr. Brant, can't stop.

What the Dickens?

You know who I blame?

Sidney Becket.

It's Bechet, Mrs. Maguire.

Bechet.

(Sidney Bechet's jazz tune "Indian Summer" plays)

(church bell tolling)

So inconsiderate.

I won't have it.

MRS. MAGUIRE: They've got a point.

A man who takes his own life is going straight to hell.

(bell continues tolling)

Life is a glorious gift,

one that should not be discarded lightly.

But for some, the trials of life can be a terrible burden.

No one can truly understand the depth of another's suffering.

"Verily I say unto you, all sins shall be forgiven

unto the sons of men."

All sins shall be forgiven.

Mrs. Staunton.

Thank you, Mr.

Chambers.

Thank you so very much.

Such kind words.

Barely recognize the old bastard.

Sorry, darling.

She's German, you know.

(laughter)

CLIVE: ...this German officer...

"I will only surrender to a superior officer."

Was there one anywhere to be seen?

Course there bloody wasn't.

Annabel, do sit down, please.

So Stephen-- bearing in mind he's the same rank as me...

Pamela Morton.

Stephen was my husband's business partner.

Sidney Chambers.

I know who you are.

You looked rather forlorn, standing over here on your own.

No one knows what to say to a clergyman after a funeral.

They can't relax till I've gone.

Perhaps they think they have to behave

as if they're still in church.

Perhaps I remind them too much of death.

Is there somewhere we can talk?

Drink?

Thank you.

Not sherry?

I'm not partial to it.

But you're a vicar.

One of my many clerical failings.

Anything I say is confidential?

You can rely on my discretion, Mrs. Morton.

I knew that Stephen's marriage wasn't as happy

as it had once been.

She is German, you know.

Yes.

A few months ago,

I was supposed to be meeting my husband from work.

He'd forgotten, of course.

Stephen suggested we go for a drink.

It was the usual chatter to begin with

but then something changed.

He said we should run away together.

Begin again.

He said we could go to Nice

and the French Riviera.

Dance on warm summer evenings under the stars.

We talked.

We planned.

We made love.

I'm sorry, I'm embarrassing you.

No.

No, you're not embarrassing me.

We were going to live

as we had never lived.

Those were the last words he said to me--

"We will live as we have never lived."

So you see why I have come to you, Mr.

Chambers?

I'm not sure I do.

Stephen did not kill himself.

When I heard you speak, I knew that I could trust you.

I can't go to the police.

But you, the human heart,

that's your responsibility, isn't it?

You can ask any question.

Of anyone.

However private.

I'm sorry...

I still don't get your meaning.

I mean murder, Mr.

Chambers.

(baby crying)

(car horn honking)

Need a girl?

Not at the moment.

Suit yourself.

Thank you for the kind offer.

Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr.

Chambers.

Inspector Keating.

You behave yourself, Annie.

Piss off, Geordie.

Sorry about that.

I've heard far worse, believe me.

Bugger yourself sideways, Geordie!

Murder?

Yes, Inspector.

You have a source?

An anonymous source.

Anonymous.

Of course.

Look,

I've got two ongoing fraud investigations,

a spate of burglaries.

I've got a black market fellow selling dodgy mutton

that gives his customers the terrible runs.

(sighs)

As far as I'm concerned, the case is as clear as crystal.

Sometimes things can be rather too clear, don't you think?

No, not really.

Oh.

Oh?

He drank.

That's what the Irish do, of course,

but he was in debt up to his eyeballs.

Took from his firm.

He was on the verge of being discovered,

so he stays on in the office, sets about a decanter of whisky,

and he blows his brains out.

Did he leave a note?

Yes.

There was a note.

Oh, well, may I see it?

No, you may not!

Why don't you go back to church and pray for the wicked.

It's murky waters you're sticking your toe into,

Mr.

Chambers.

I'd steer well clear if I were you.

♫♫

Mrs. Staunton.

What game were you playing, going round in circles?

Oh, uh...

I just...

I came to see how you're getting along.

My husband gave that to me.

We met in Berlin after the war.

He said he'd take me to Carrickfergus.

That we'd live by the sea and walk by the shores

of Lough Neagh.

He said a lot of things.

And I used to believe all of them.

Do you believe your husband was depressed?

He was from Ulster.

I've known a few Ulstermen; not all of them are depressed.

Yes, but sometimes the alcohol and...

Of course.

Jameson's.

That's all he drank.

In the end, like water.

I think what you're asking is did it come as a shock,

him taking his life?

At first.

But when you've lost most of your family in war,

then things don't shock for long.

Did you fight, Mr.

Chambers?

I did.

Then I think you understand.

You're always welcome in my congregation, Mrs. Staunton.

I'm afraid I'm returning to Berlin.

There's no money so...

Your husband left no will?

Not that I know of.

Perhaps it's at his office.

I could inquire on your behalf.

You took his funeral when no one else would.

You've done enough.

(typewriter clacking)

SIDNEY: You've been busy,

I imagine, Miss Morrison?

My job is half what it was.

Less than half, if I'm honest.

Mr. Staunton needed looking after?

He was not the most methodical of people.

He was a horror to keep tabs on.

A horror to work for.

I miss him terribly.

(train passes, glasses rattle)

So you wouldn't know

whom he met on the day he died?

For example.

He had a few meetings.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

There was an argument.

There were arguments most days near the end.

STEPHEN: Say that again, you son of a bitch!

CLIVE: Go home, Miss Morrison.

Please go home.

The next morning when I came in...

There he was.

Make an appointment with the Midland.

It's a bloody mess.

ANNABEL: Mr.

Chambers is just inquiring

after Mr. Staunton's will.

On behalf of his wife.

He didn't have a will.

That's odd, isn't it?

We lawyers are a bit like doctors.

Neglect our own lives because we think we're immortal.

Sherry?

Uh... whisky, perhaps?

I had you down as a sherry man.

Most people do.

That's Mr. Staunton's.

Hardly be needing it now, will he?

Stephen drank far too much.

Most of us did, of course.

Came home, reached for the bottle.

We were all living under the shadow of it.

Thank you.

Still are if we're honest.

You were a padre, I imagine.

I fought, Mr. Morton.

With the Scots Guards.

Good for you.

(footsteps)

So I understand he was siphoning money from the firm.

What could that possibly have to do with the clergy?

Mrs. Staunton is penniless.

She'll be all right.

The wife gets the money, will or no will.

We fought side by side.

I trusted him like no other.

By the end,

it's a sorry thing to say,

but it would've been better for all of us

if he had died a hero in some field in Italy.

So... there's no will?

Wasted journey, I'm afraid.

It wasn't the right whisky.

The whisky in the decanter on Staunton's desk.

His wife specifically told me he only drank Jameson's,

which, as you probably know, has a distinctive nutty flavor.

The whisky in the decanter was of a cheaper variety.

Which leads you to conclude...

That it was placed on his desk

to give the illusion of Dutch courage.

Which leads you to conclude...

That there was a third party there at his death.

Which leads you to conclude...

That he was murdered, Inspector.

Because it wasn't the right whisky?

Because it wasn't the right whisky.

You told me to steer clear of murky waters.

Well, sometimes they come to me.

England lost to Hungary last night, 6-3.

Beaten by a team no one has ever heard of.

At a game that we invented.

So I was already in a bad mood, Mr.

Chambers.

Go on.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that it has come to this."

"I know you will find this upsetting

"and I wish there was something I could do

"to make things right.

"I can't go on anymore.

"I'm sorry, so sorry.

"You know how hard it has been

"and how impossible it is to continue."

"Forgive me, S."

(sighs)

It's his handwriting?

All authenticated.

By whom?

By me, Mr.

Chambers.

It's suicide.

The coroner says so, my boss says so,

even the poor bugger himself.

Jameson's or no Jameson's.

Case closed?

Case closed.

I could have you arrested.

Really?

What for?

Wasting police time.

But frankly it was a nice diversion

after the whole Hungary debacle so...

I don't watch football.

Generally leads to disappointment.

Always leads to disappointment.

Backgammon-- now there's the game.

Backgammon?

Cricket.

Bit of rugby.

Good God, man, next it'll be bloody badminton.

I'm sorry to have troubled you.

Don't be ridiculous, Mr.

Chambers.

Backgammon.

It's the game, Inspector.

It's the game!

I saw it myself.

It was from his hand.

Was there a date on it?

Not that I recall but...

Then it could've been written at any time.

It could've been written months ago.

Mrs. Morton, it was a suicide note.

Do you know he kept a private diary?

That would tell us who he met that day.

Mrs. Morton... We have to find the truth.

I have neglected my duties long enough.

You didn't give a damn about your duties yesterday.

Your eyes positively lit up.

Some intrigue to liven up your humdrum little life.

(scoffs)

It was murder...

(falling chair thuds loudly)

(quietly): Mr.

Chambers.

I believe it was my husband.

I will remember you in my prayers, Mrs. Morton.

AMANDA: Sidney!

I wasn't expecting you till Friday.

Mrs. M said you'd be here.

She was very disapproving.

She's always disapproving.

It's a most unchristian landscape, apparently.

"What the Dickens?"

"What the Dickens?"

Looking elegant as always.

So I've simplified my wardrobe--

lilac in town, brown in the country.

Makes life so much easier.

Grantchester is hardly the country.

Sidney, Grantchester is not Cambridge

and Cambridge is most certainly not London.

Look at your lovely new shoes!

They're ruined already.

Let's have a picnic.

"Your shoes are ruined, let's have a picnic"?

How your mind works, Amanda!

No, it's freezing.

SIDNEY: How's my sister?

Oh, did I tell you?

She's seeing a jazz man.

No.

My mother will be over the moon about that.

Yes, it's quite the scandal.

You know you look just like that Modigliani

we saw at the National.

I don't think so.

My nose is... look, disappointingly Roman.

It is wonderfully Roman.

Do you know what we should do?

We should run away together, you and I.

We could go to Nice, the French Riviera.

We could dance on warm summer evenings under the stars.

Sorry, I don't know where that came from.

I...

I have some news.

That... that's fantastic.

His name's Guy.

Extraordinarily good looking, no doubt.

Of course.

Incredibly charming.

Absolutely!

Terribly wealthy.

After several years of painstaking research,

I've finally got my man.

Well...

Well...

You may kiss me.

I want to meet him.

You will.

Of course, you will.

Come up to London.

I'll wear lilac just for you.

(train whistle blows)

Promise me you're not lonely, Sidney.

Don't worry about me.

(train whistle blowing)

(vacuum whirring loudly)

Only you could make cleaning look like an act of war, Mrs. M.

D'you want to know what people are saying?

Not particularly.

They're saying you should get yourself a wife.

Miss Kendall is a friend.

I know that.

Won't catch the likes of her with the likes of you.

(phone ringing)

Mrs. Morton again.

That thing she does with her hair.

Dangerous woman.

Say I'm with the church warden.

Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord.

I'll say you're taking Bible study.

(sighs)

(radio playing in background)

What the Dickens?!

God help me.

I was born on the day-- the very day--

Queen Victoria died.

And yet you never remember my birthday.

I always do eventually.

My three brothers died in the First World War.

My Ronnie disappeared for no good reason in the second.

I'm forced to do for other people,

clean their unhygienic water closets, but this...

this is the worst indignity yet.

We can't have a dog.

We cannot have a dog.

I don't know the first thing about dogs.

We cannot have a dog!

Just take him back.

Where did he come from?

Black labs are the best for conversation, I find.

A dog, Amanda?

I can't see you lonely, Sidney.

I'm not lonely.

Well, what are you going to call him?

What about Brutus?

No, look, be serious now.

It'll need walking...

Feeding.

I wanted to give you something.

I won't be able to see you as often as I used.

I'm sorry.

You know how hard it will be for me but...

GUY:Darling!

It's impossible.

It's impossible to continue.

I'm so glad you understand.

Hello?

Sidney?

SIDNEY: I've been thinking

about the circumstances of the crime,

the people involved and the nature of love.

Oh, God...

It wasn't a suicide note.

Dear, dear God.

Listen to the wording.

"I'm sorry that it has come to this.

"I know you will find this upsetting

and I wish there was something I could do to make things right."

A little restrained for a suicide note, don't you think?

"You know how hard it has been

and how impossible it is to continue."

He was ending a relationship, not his life.

Let's just say, for a minute, that's true.

Who was the letter intended for?

His wife, the German?

Or a...

a lover?

You know something.

People feel they can tell me things.

You're lucky.

No one feels they can tell me anything.

Needless to say... there was an affair.

Case like this, jealous wife, always suspect number one.

Number two, Pamela Morton.

If it is her, she's playing a dangerous game, don't you think?

Or a very clever one.

Lover tries to ditch her, she does him in,

tries to pin the blame on the hubby she can't stand.

Two birds, one very large stone.

Or it really could be the husband.

Finds out about his wife and his army pal and...

Have I won?

Yes, you have.

Well, how about that.

Mrs. Morton said there was a diary.

His personal diary.

Maybe that could tell us something.

People talk to you, you say.

Tell you things?

Rather too much sometimes.

Hmm.

(piano music coming from inside)

I was just thinking about you.

Sly old dog.

I'm sorry for last time.

I was in a dream when you came round.

I didn't think you were in a dream.

Sometimes when I'm sad, my English disappears.

Moöchten Sie Tango tanzen?

(laughing)

Ja, sehr gerne.

I very much would like to dance the tango.

Sie sprechen Deutsch?

Ein bisschen.

Very badly, I'm afraid.

Nein, gar nicht.

Not at all.

I believe the police returned your husband's effects.

"Effects," yeah.

I didn't know that word before.

I haven't brought myself to look through them.

Well, we... we could do it together, perhaps.

If you'd wish.

I'd like that.

Sometimes I think he could come back

and I should leave the house as he left it.

He would go out late.

Go for a walk.

I think he preferred the nights

where there was no one to trouble him.

Sometimes I think that's where he's been.

Just for a walk.

I should've been a better wife.

Why would you say that?

You have a very kind face.

I just broke the eighth commandment.

Hmm?

Which one's that?

The one about the ox?

You beauty.

GEORDIE: Germans.

Absolutely no sense of decorum.

She said I had a kind face, that's all.

Still... she's attractive.

For a Kraut.

Don't you think?

Meetings...

birthdays, train times.

That's it.

Nothing!

You didn't answer the question.

I'm aware of that.

Well, Sidney, this is what we in the force call

a bloody bugger of a dead end.

(breathing heavily)

(dog growling)

Oh, no.

Ah!

CATHY: Talks about you non-stop, you know.

Geordie!

It's that vicar of yours.

Sidney.

Take a look at this.

You're worse than the children.

No more splashing.

Go on!

Oh!

Have you got the diary?

You must know we need more to go on than this.

Oi!

What did your mam say?

I mean, take your Jesus.

He didn't settle for one or two miracles, did he?

He went on until people believed him.

Until there was proof.

I think we are quite a long way from Jesus.

I think you might be right.

What?

I know who did it.

I know who killed him.

GEORDIE: Don't trouble yourself, it'll work.

What if it doesn't?

Then I'll remind you that it was your plan.

And a dicey one at that.

(door opens)

You ready?

(typewriter clattering)

Mr.

Chambers.

So, still no sign of the will?

You're beginning to test my patience.

Oh, if I'm being an inconvenience...

No, not at all.

It's just that we don't usually have much call

for clergymen in the office.

And in the church we don't have much call for solicitors.

Which I suppose is something to be grateful for.

It was your wife I was hoping to speak to actually.

On Mrs. Staunton's behalf, of course.

Do you know where I might be able to find her?

Why would you possibly need to speak to my wife?

It was she who asked to speak to me.

She has Mr. Staunton's diary.

Apparently it contains some new information.

What new information?

She believes he was murdered.

The man put a bullet through his head.

She thinks otherwise.

She travels to London Friday.

The 10:17.

The same train Mr. Staunton used to get to his meetings?

That-that's right, isn't it?

That's my wife you're talking about.

I'm sure there was nothing untoward.

I'll speak to her on her return.

Thank you for your time.

(child crying)

(train approaching)

(train whistle blows)

(screaming)

It was your fault, you bitch!

He was mine.

You meant nothing to him.

He was mine!

He loved me!

He loved me!

He loved me!

You told her?

About Stephen and me?

I let her make an assumption.

You betrayed my confidence.

They were having an affair.

AM and PM.

Not morning and afternoon, but initials.

(gasps)

Annabel Morrison and...

Pamela Morton.

Used to being invisible, she hardly dared believe it.

You were right, it wasn't a suicide note.

He was ending an affair.

Morning.

(fires gun)

A drinker, a gambler, depressed after the war.

All she had to do was set the scene.

Recreate the suicide so vividly

even the police would fail to question it.

A half-drunk decanter of whisky, a hastily written note.

(sobbing): Somebody please help!

Please help me!

Somebody please help me.

He said he loved me.

No one has ever said they love me.

HILDEGARD: Will she hang?

I'm not in favor of another death.

Neither am I.

You lied to me, I think.

At Stephen's funeral

you said you believed that he would go to heaven.

I believe that life is sacred.

And only God can take it away?

I'm afraid so.

And if there is no God?

Well...

I can't think that.

As a priest, it would be a bad idea.

(laughs)

Very bad indeed.

I...

I can't take it.

Perhaps in return you could give me back the diary you stole.

You knew about that.

You are not a natural sinner, Mr.

Chambers.

I'm...

I'm very glad you think so.

SIDNEY: We cannot erase our pasts.

However hard we try.

Instead, we must carry them with us into the future.

We must carry them with us and look forward with hope.

We must look forward

because to look back is to waste precious time.

Someone recently said to me,

"We should live as we have never lived."

And we must all of us take heed

and live as we have never lived.

For we are all mortal.

We are all fragile.

And we all live under the shadow of death.

What the...

Dickens!

(dog barks)

How'd he have the energy?

That's what I wantto know.

The energy for what?

Staunton.

Carrying on with two, you know...

Lovers?

Exactly.

And a wife as well.

God knows it's hard enough

when you've been married for a bit.

You should be glad.

Glad I'm not married?

I don't know about that.

Make the most of it, Sidney.

I'll try, Geordie.

Here's one for you.

Found a body outside the Five Bells.

Battered to death.

Ah, hang on.

Hang on, is this gonna involve murky waters?

You like murky waters.

I don't know.

Perhaps I should get back to church.

Pray for the wicked.

Give over, I'll buy you a pint.

You'll buy me a whisky.

Backgammon?

You're obsessed.

It's the game, Sidney.

It's the game!

Next time on Masterpiece Mystery!...

We're all in love with Sidney.

A man of God?

Such a shame.

Guy!

SIDNEY: Why are you marrying him?

Two crimes, one night.

Same circle of friends.

None of this is coincidence.

James Norton and Robson Green star

in "Grantchester."

Next time on Masterpiece Mystery!

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