Episode 5

♪ ♪ Daniel, come, take a seat.

♪ ♪ DANIEL: I wonder if I should talk to him more.

Might be something I need to do on my own.

I'm very grateful, but I'm afraid I just don't need a housekeeper.

Oh.

I'm moving out.

CATHY: Fine!

Get out!

GEORDIE: And here's me thinking you weren't interested in all of this.

ALPHY: I'm no detective.

I don't need a detective.

A vicar will do.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ MAE: "The modern woman finds herself "at the dawn of a new era.

"She can now enter the world of work.

♪ ♪ "But how does she know she is ready "to put herself to good use?

"She would do well to ask herself these questions: "Do you greet the men you work for "with a winning yet chaste smile?

"Do you put the needs of others "before your own?

♪ ♪ "Do you complete tasks "without expectation of praise?

"If yes, then you are ready to join Harrison and Sons!"

BOTH: "Far East fabrics, British excellence!"

Old Man Harrison and his sodding rules.

What a load of tosh.

Doesn't mention a thing about creepy Malcolm.

Or getting goosed every time you make a cup of tea.

What's a "winning but chaste smile"?

How about... No, wait, wait.

Is it... (both laughing) Cathy!

(laughing) Hello, love.

What's so funny?

Nothing.

You remember Mae from the office?

Oh, I remember Mae.

Mr. K. Nice tie.

Brings out your eyes.

Hello, love.

Hello, Cathy.

What's with the "Cathy"?

Mmm, I'm starving.

Don't mind, do you?

Bit late if I did.

(chuckles) GEORDIE: Well...

This is nice.

(softly): Yeah.

Shall I put the kettle on?

No, we're not stopping.

I'll bring the whites next week?

Thanks ever so, Mrs. K-- so good of you.

Well, she's a bit... A bit?

(door closes) MRS. CHAPMAN: You have Bible study at... 3:00, I know.

Parish council at... Let me guess-- 4:00?

And then we need to find you a wife.

(chuckles): Is that before or after Bible study?

The bishop is very particular about his doilies.

No one cares about doilies.

(knock at door) If you want me to sit in... No, I don't.

I don't mind.

Well, I do.

I mind.

My Lord.

Uh, good to see you again, Mrs., um... Ah.

Mr. Kottaram.

How are we?

Fantastic, thank you.

Please.

No.

(whispering): Told you.

(door closes) ALPHY: I never thought I'd say this, but I now know everything there is to know about black mold.

A real page-turner.

(both chuckle) I think I can save us a few thousand doing some of the work on the church myself.

Excellent.

(chuckles) I'm sensing a "but."

You're running before you can walk.

But if we're looking to save money... Well, in these times of change, we need to find ways to consolidate.

Consolidate?

The congregation here never more than 30.

The church at Newnham barely full beyond the first rows.

Well, I'm sure you can gather my meaning.

I'm not sure I do.

We're merging the two.

Winding this church down.

It's for the best.

This congregation will be served by Newnham's vicar.

Have you met him?

David.

Hmm.

Lovely chap.

So, um...

I'm sorry.

What does this mean for me?

You'll caretake for a few months.

And then?

We'll ponder that when we're closer to the time, shall we?

God calls us where we're meant to be, Mr. Kottaram.

Sometimes we don't have a choice in the matter.

♪ ♪ (typewriters clacking, phones ringing) (chuckles) Now, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

No, I don't bite.

(chuckles) Right, here's my card.

Thank you so much, gentlemen.

Nice meeting you.

I look forward to doing business with you.

Of course, thank you.

♪ ♪ (giggling softly) Hey.

New girl.

Nice top.

Thank you.

Maybe I could talk you out of it later.

(man chuckling) HARRISON: Good morning, gals.

WOMEN: Good morning, Mr. Harrison.

Have they had my amended rules?

They read them with great excitement, Mr. Harrison.

Remember, gals.

Winning smiles.

YOUNG WOMEN: Yes, Mr. Harrison.

♪ ♪ Wonderful hospitality as usual, Mrs., uh...

I made my Bakewell specially.

Yeah, well done, you.

It really is for the best, Mr. Kottaram.

(smacks lips) ♪ ♪ (door opens) (door closes) MRS. CHAPMAN: Well?

I tried listening, but you don't half mumble.

You'd do well to be a bit more like him.

Polite, refined.

Answers questions when he's asked them.

He doesn't even remember your name, Mrs. C. CHEADLE: Get Mae for me, would you, Miss Keating?

Yes, Miss Cheadle.

(typewriters clacking, phones ringing) (whispering) (chuckles) Miss Cheadle wants you.

Tell the Cheadle she's otherwise engaged.

Malcolm.

(both giggle) You're not frightened of ghosts, are you, new girl?

(exhales): Leave her be.

(door closes) Listen.

You know, you can hear her sometimes, weeping and wailing.

No, be gentle with her, Iris.

She always picks on the pretty ones.

♪ ♪ What's the emergency?

Ah, Geordie.

(chuckles) I think I've lost my job.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I have, so, cheers.

ALL: ♪ For she's a jolly good fellow ♪ ♪ And so say all of us ♪ All right, boys.

Time for the bumps.

Malcolm, no!

(Mae giggling) Now, don't encourage 'em, there's a good girl.

Sorry, Mr. Harrison.

HARRISON: Good, good.

19 years old.

Barely remember what that was like.

But look at you.

Whole life ahead of you.

You'll make some chap a very lovely wife one day.

All right, five minutes.

Then back to it.

All right, boys.

Have at her!

One, two, three!

♪ ♪ (exhales) (typewriters clacking, phones ringing) HARRISON (calling): Miss Cheadle!

Send in the birthday girl.

Miss Keating.

Fetch Mae, would you?

Yes, Miss Cheadle.

(soft knock at door) ESME: Mae?

Are you in there?

(gasps) ♪ ♪ (breath trembling) Uh-huh.

Knew it would rear its ugly head eventually.

Never known a vicar without a wayward streak.

No vicar in Grantchester, it's just...

I can't believe he's doing that.

Bastard.

Now, now, he's a man of God.

Absolute bastard.

Hmm.

ALPHY: Why bring me here if he knew there was no job?

Why lie to me?

Welcome to my world.

It's what they do, lie.

If it's not criminals, it's daughters, and...

Lie to their own mothers if it got them further up the ladder.

What the hell do I do?

Pub?

GEORDIE: Pub.

(phone ringing) Hold that thought.

(sighs) I'm not in the best of moods, Geordie.

Neither am I.

If it's not the wife, it's the eldest.

It's Miss Scott.

It's women in general, really.

SAM: Betrayed you, did they?

The Church?

Sorry, I, uh...

I couldn't help overhearing.

(exhales) "Betrayed" is a strong word.

Mm-hmm, it's apt, though.

It's what they do, isn't it?

If you don't quite fit in.

If you're not quite one of them.

(footsteps approaching) There's a body at Harrison's.

Esme works there.

♪ ♪ GEORDIE: Where's the body?

It's that way, up there, up the stairs.

♪ ♪ What do you think's happened?

Mm?

(breathes deeply) Swollen eyes, the mouth.

Allergic reaction, maybe?

(exhales) ♪ ♪ Esme.

Sweetheart.

I'm so sorry.

Mae doesn't have her bag.

She doesn't go anywhere without her bag.

Come on.

(softly): They can't know you're my dad.

CHEADLE: None of us are sure what to do, Officer.

Well, if you wouldn't mind waiting, we'll take your statement shortly.

Thank you.

Come along, darling.

♪ ♪ Larry.

Get this bagged.

(whispering): Caterpillars.

Did he tell you?

(yelps) This is my quiet time, Mrs. C. He did, didn't he?

Context.

Context is always useful.

There is something afoot with Alphy and the bishop.

Ah.

So he did tell you.

And I don't feel comfortable breaking that trust.

He's a gambler, isn't he?

He looks like a gambler.

What does a gambler look like?

Is it women?

Is it men?!

You're such a...

Such a what?

You'll end up falling out with everyone if you carry on like this.

I don't fall out with people.

Cathy, Geordie, Esme...

I just want to know what's happening under my own roof.

It isn't your roof, though, is it?

It's Alphy's roof.

And Alphy's conversation.

And Alphy will tell you when he's ready.

He's definitely a gambler.

♪ ♪ Where is he?

Out.

Can I help?

Tell him his daughter is having sex.

His wife is having kittens.

So he should spruce up a cell, 'cause I'm about to commit murder.

You haven't heard, have you?

HARRISON: It's a tragedy, really.

Terrible for business.

And the girl.

And her family, and friends.

Goes without saying.

Does it?

I suppose you'll want us shut for the foreseeable.

Will you?

We have a contract in London with a big firm.

(mutters) Rather lucrative.

Poor child.

You should talk to Malcolm, my second-in-command.

MALCOLM: She was... (exhales) ...one of the jollier girls.

Jollier?

Some of the secretaries can be a little po-faced.

Yeah, but she... She what?

We're all gentlemen here.

We all understand the way of the world.

Explain it to us.

CHEADLE: The boys have a game.

CHEADLE: The girls are either Doris Days or Marilyns.

Sounds a little reductive.

They're men, Reverend.

GEORDIE: And what was Mae?

A Marilyn.

Very much a Marilyn.

Were you and her...

I'm married.

(Alphy chuckles) Question still stands.

She was a little too jolly for me, if you gather my meaning.

(chuckles) I liked her, I did.

But she was no innocent.

CHEADLE: I did my best to protect her.

From anyone in particular?

These young ladies are impressionable.

Often away from home for the first time.

The chaps see them as sport.

(footsteps descending stairs) ♪ ♪ She was sport to them.

Miss Cheadle, the birthday cake.

Did you make it?

It was from Molly's Café, in town.

We've never had a problem before.

CATHY: That poor girl.

I don't know how you handle it.

I could say the same for you.

The kids, the house, the husband.

I have to say, it never appealed.

(sighs): I haven't been.

Handling it lately.

I mean, me and Esme.

She's... A teenager?

The world of work-- it comes as quite a shock, but it's mostly harmless, don't you think?

Until it isn't.

Esme is out there, in that world, and there is not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

(inhales) ♪ ♪ That place, those men.

Puts me in mind of Daniel in the lion's den.

Yeah, and my little girl's lunchmeat.

Geordie, she's sensible.

GEORDIE: She's 16 years old.

Were you sensible when you were 16?

Mmm.

Did you want to interview her now, Boss?

(phone ringing) MISS SCOTT: Just a second.

It can wait.

Promise me you won't get angry.

Angry about what?

No temper-losing, no veins popping.

Angry about what?

♪ ♪ GEORDIE: Anything you want to tell me?

Anything important?

It's haunted.

The store room.

Iris, her name is.

Iris the ghost.

Might want to get her in for an interview.

Did Mae keep company with men?

I don't know.

Would you tell me if you did?

Yes.

Are you a Doris or a Marilyn, Esme?

What does that mean?

Would you go out with Mae?

To the cinema sometimes.

Mm-hmm, would you go out dancing?

No.

Drinking?

No.

And dallying?

It's for contraceptive pills.

What are they?

Give over, Esme.

Is it yours?

No.

(slamming table, shouting): Answer the question!

♪ ♪ She said no.

(door opens) (door closes firmly) ♪ ♪ They think they're so grown-up.

Think they understand how it all works.

They don't understand a damn thing.

Esme didn't even know what they were.

She pretended not to know.

There's a difference.

She still believes in ghosts, Geordie.

(knock at door) Boss.

Mae Jenkins' medical file from Harrison's.

Page two might interest you.

Try talking to her.

Maybe in a less intimidating setting this time.

Or I can try?

I'm afraid for her, Alphy.

♪ ♪ Dad's in a mood, isn't he?

Barely seen him out of one since I met him.

I'm sorry about your friend.

I didn't always like her.

Is that a terrible thing to say?

No.

She was so loud.

It made me feel quite small sometimes.

Esme, the prescription.

It's not mine.

Was it Mae's?

They were in her handbag.

Was there a boyfriend?

(exhales) I love my job so much.

The last thing I want to do is lose it.

Who was he, Esme?

(laughing raucously) You were carrying on with Mae.

While your wife waited at home.

(men clearing throats) My marriage is rather complex.

(chuckles): I'd say.

And Mae was what, a welcome distraction?

Put it this way, Mae isn't someone you'd introduce to your mother.

Or your wife?

GEORDIE: Did Mae get the impression that was on the cards?

Meeting mothers?

Wedding bells?

Never promise more than you can deliver.

Did you help her get these?

MALCOLM: Never seen them before.

GEORDIE: Only available to married women.

Maybe you went to the doctor's with her.

Hm?

Popped a ring on her finger?

Mr. and Mrs. Smith?

Nice young couple.

Perhaps that's when you heard her medical history.

Yeah, what medical history?

She has an allergy.

A severe allergy to almonds.

The first I've heard of it.

What did you put them in, hmm?

Maybe the cake?

If I wanted to get rid of her, all I had to do was give her her notice.

Why would I bother putting almonds in a damn cake?

♪ ♪ (knock at door) Just tell me the truth-- did you set me up to fail?

Why would I do that?

Because I'm dispensable.

Oh, you're being irrational now.

Why offer me the position if there was none?

Circumstances changed.

Or was I always the scapegoat?

"Indian vicar with a common accent, yeah, he's the one that ran the church into the ground."

Yeah.

Yeah, I thought so.

(vacuum running) (vacuum stops) As a woman of this parish and former council member... "Former" being the operative word.

...I deserve to have answers.

You don't work here, Mrs. C. What do you think I'm doing right now?

Nothing I asked you to do, that's for sure.

I am doing God's work.

(chuckles) Yeah, and I'm sure God's really grateful, but I don't need you.

I don't need you hoovering all day, or... Or making me breakfasts so large, I'm expecting to have a heart attack at any point.

You know?

You don't work here.

Okay?

And what the bishop says is none of your business.

It's gambling, isn't it?

(chuckles): Yeah.

Yeah, that's it, it's gambling.

I mean, what do you want to know, huh?

That he's getting rid of me already?

That I'm out before I've even started?

♪ ♪ Well, there you go.

Hope you're happy now.

(pot lid clatters) (drops loudly) (pot lids clattering) Why are you so angry with me, Cathy?

I told you she never should have taken that job.

I tried to put my foot down.

You didn't back me up.

Made me look like the bad one.

You have no idea what happens in places like that.

With men like that.

Brushing too close to her.

Following her home.

Not every man is a potential murderer, Cathy.

Show me.

Show me which ones are and which ones aren't.

(slams) You're jumping at every shadow.

You're starting to sound like your mother.

♪ ♪ (sighs) (exhales) ♪ ♪ You're keen.

Hm.

How do you think the filing gets done?

Filing fairy?

They're called women.

Those fairies that make your tea and darn your socks, they're called women.

Spoke to the bakery-- guess who ordered the cake.

Miss Cheadle.

Nope.

No?

It was a bloke.

Shop girl was a complete dunce, but she was sure it was a man.

ALPHY: Evening.

Hiding, are you?

Yeah-- you?

Mrs. C. She irons my underwear.

Why does she do that?

Why don't you do that?

I've done some digging.

Another ghost?

Another dead girl.

Used to work at Harrison's.

Jane Goldman, 18 years old.

Died of a botched abortion.

GEORDIE: Abortion?

"Open verdict."

What's the betting one of the Harrison boys got her in the family way and goodbye, Jane?

Could be a coincidence.

Or it's all connected.

Hard to tell.

Unless... You send someone in.

Someone with excellent clerical skills and a brisk yet perky demeanor.

Mm-mm.

They're already advertising.

No.

No way.

One of those girls knows something.

I could get her talking.

It's not a bad idea.

She's a civilian.

It's too dangerous.

You do it.

ALPHY: I would, but they've met me.

Uh, no-- no.

Just a thought.

In any event, I'm on leave from tomorrow, so, I guess my time is my own.

♪ ♪ (phone ringing, typewriters clacking) CHEADLE: "Do you dress impeccably?

(gives wolf whistle) (men chuckling) "Do you refrain from showing off how much you know?

♪ ♪ Do you avoid bossing the men who manage you?"

Can I stop you there, Miss Cheadle?

Of course, please.

I've worked since I was 16.

I know how to manage men without making them feel managed.

Congratulate them on ideas which were mine.

I know how to deflect the gropes and the comments.

And your filing?

Second to none.

Then welcome to Harrison's.

I think this is the beginning of something rather wonderful, don't you?

(music playing on radio) (radio stops) I'm on strike.

Okay.

Well, do you want to tell me why?

Because you were very rude.

I was very angry-- there's a difference.

Not to my ears.

So, this strike.

Is it going to involve you being here?

No talking across the picket line.

Well, you couldn't, I don't know, strike at home, maybe?

That wouldn't make my point.

And what is your point?

You need me.

No, I don't.

I really, really don't.

Cathy, she needs you more than I do.

Esme, Geordie at a push.

Me, I'm self-sufficient, okay?

Just think of me as a one-man band.

I hate one-man bands.

Yeah, so do I-- that is not the point.

(drawer opens) Ink's in the second drawer.

(drawer opens) ♪ ♪ (exhales) The new girl, Mr. Harrison.

HARRISON: Good, good.

Have you read my rules?

Most comprehensive-- thank you.

I run a tight ship, strict, but fair.

Wouldn't you agree, Miss Cheadle?

Exceedingly.

All sundry expenses must be passed by me.

Everything, Mr. Harrison?

Watch the pennies, the pounds watch themselves.

Now, run along, you gals.

He's harmless.

(chuckles) So... New girl.

Tell us everything-- what's your secret?

I speak Russian-- does that count?

Ah, a Bolshevik.

(chuckles) Fiery, are you?

Hot-blooded?

Passionate?

Never during office hours.

Shame.

He, on the other hand... Miss Keating.

Could you show Miss Scott the ropes?

Yes, Miss Cheadle.

(phones ringing, typewriters clacking) ♪ ♪ (calling): Larry!

What happened to you?

Nobody knows how to work the tea urn.

We have a tea urn?

Yeah, news to me, too.

What do you need, Boss?

You don't know where the Jane Goldman file is, do you?

No one knows where anything is.

It's chaos out there.

(people talking, phones ringing in background) What happened to him?

Huh?

Oh, he was born, and now here we are.

Hm.

(exhales): Jane Goldman-- the botched abortion?

I was thinking too much gin, hot bath... Hm, and trip down the stairs?

Exactly.

But-- ah!

She paid for it.

Harley Street doctor.

Harley Street does abortions?

All the doctors are at it.

Even the posh ones.

A hundred pounds?

Not on the wages she was on.

How the hell could she afford it?

♪ ♪ (phones ringing, typewriters clacking) ♪ ♪ Where do accounts live?

In the store room.

Watch yourself.

Iris can be a terrible beast to the new girls.

Do they ever grow up?

MISS SCOTT: "Cleaning," again.

What where you onto, Mae?

(door closes) There's a chill in here, don't you think?

Not really.

It's Iris-- she's... A figment of your rather trite imagination?

Drink?

No, thank you.

It might warm you up.

I think you could do with some warming up.

Miss Scott.

Perhaps I could assist you.

Thank you, Miss Cheadle.

(puts down glass) His poor wife.

(door closes) How he found one is beyond me.

♪ ♪ MISS SCOTT: So far, so normal.

Inappropriate comments.

The men drinking themselves into a coma while the women do all the work.

Old Man Harrison?

Penny pinch.

Nothing gets bought without his say-so.

So he orders the cake, poisons it with almonds, Mae eats it.

Don't want to burst your bubble.

Oh, go on, burst away.

Test came back on the birthday cake.

And?

No almonds.

Bugger.

You sure?

Wasn't the cake that did her in.

Yeah, so what did?

Mae Jenkins had this in her desk.

She queried some payments.

Cleaning?

There are dozens of them over the years.

Not for the dusting, I'm guessing.

They use Bateman's to clean the offices, and those payments are simply marked "Batemans."

Here, see?

So these cleaning payments... ...don't refer to actual cleaning.

Jane Goldman-- when did she die?

(exhales): March of '58, 15th.

ALPHY: 15th of March '58...

There.

"Cleaning," same week Jane died.

One hundred pounds.

That's exactly what she paid for the abortion.

MISS SCOTT: I'll see what else I can find when everyone's gone, but it seems like any girl his boys get into trouble, Mr. Harrison pays them off.

He's cleaning up after them.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (exhales shakily) What does that say?

I'll need my other glasses.

It says "cleaning."

I'll take your word for it.

You signed off these accounts.

Barely read them.

I tend not to bother myself with trivial matters.

The company accounts are trivial?

I'm more of a figurehead these days.

Boozy lunches?

Golf?

I hear you're a stickler.

Young Malcolm's more on top of things these days.

Stepping into your shoes, is he?

He's bright-- ambitious.

He's getting girls in the family way left, right, and center.

Yeah, rather that than the alternative.

Which is?

These young ladies are, um, worldly, yeah.

Looking for husbands-- do anything to entrap a man.

Chap has to protect himself.

It's not the men who are dying, Mr. Harrison.

(knock at door) Boss.

Mm?

It's with regards to our colleague and her annual leave.

♪ ♪ Miss Scott?

Ask him about Iris.

GEORDIE: The ghost?

Before she was a ghost, she was a girl.

Died ten years ago.

An accident, open verdict.

But her body was found in...

In the store room.

The store room.

♪ ♪ Iris Buchanan.

(door closes firmly) She worked for you.

She died on your premises.

That jog any memories?

It was carbon monoxide poisoning.

Faulty chimney.

When did she die?

November '51.

November '51...

Cleaning.

One hundred pounds.

Yes, it was a gift to her family.

Funeral expenses.

The least we could do in the circumstances.

(tapping): So you did know about this particular payment?

Iris was a, a lovely young thing who died in, in very unfortunate, very unfortunate circumstances.

(stammers) (snaps fingers): Deemed an accident.

By your colleagues, Inspector.

Working-class girls with no status, hm?

Easy to get rid of.

A dodgy chimney here.

Backstreet abortion there.

Unrelated incidents.

(chuckles): Scant motive.

(chuckling) (stammering): Well, look, unless you are going to charge me, uh, perhaps one of your gals could call me a taxi.

(birds chirping) ALPHY: Strike over?

I can't ignore dust this thick.

I'm not an animal.

I'm sorry.

I was rude and snappy and... Hurtful?

It's no excuse, but...

I had no one to turn to, so, I took it out on you.

And that was unforgivable.

You not a hugger?

I could be persuaded.

If the occasion warrants it.

(chuckles) Thank you, Mrs. C. You had me to turn to.

I don't want you to leave-- none of us do.

And I know you think I'm just a silly woman.

What?

I don't think that.

Just another old biddy wittering on about jumble sales.

But we're the ones who keep the parish going.

Organizing everything for you.

Cleaning up afterwards.

No money and no thanks.

But you do it anyway.

Why?

'Cause it makes us feel...

Worthwhile?

It makes us feel seen.

When most of the time, no one sees us at all.

♪ ♪ (people talking in background) (phones ringing) ♪ ♪ Cleaning-- why cleaning, huh?

It's an interesting choice of word, don't you think?

I mean, it's, it's almost biblical.

And he's off.

It's about so much more than getting rid of mess, you know?

Actually, no-- no, no, no, maybe it's just that.

Someone was getting rid of the mess, someone who'd been there for years.

ALPHY: Someone Mr. Harrison could trust.

What if Mae was getting too close to the truth?

♪ ♪ (door closes) Drink?

It might warm you up.

Test came back from the birthday cake.

No almonds.

(liquid swishing) (door closes) You put it in her contraceptives.

The ones you helped her get.

I had a feeling you were too clever for this place.

Made you feel important, I imagine.

Cleaning up after the men.

They didn't even notice you were doing it, did they?

Are you a police officer?

Just a plain old secretary.

Makes sense, I suppose.

The girls are dispensable, are they?

You block a chimney, send them to a dodgy doctor.

Some almond essence, maybe.

Mr. Harrison expects a tight ship.

He'd thank me if he knew.

Would he?

If I wasn't here, everything would fall apart.

I keep my office running.

Even I know I'm completely dispensable.

He needs me.

You'll be gone soon.

There'll be another girl at your desk.

He won't even remember your name.

I'm important-- I am.

Mr. Harrison always says it.

Oh, sweetheart.

You really believe that, don't you?

(grunts) (struggling) (grunting) (body thuds, Cheadle grunts) (panting) (gasping) You took your time.

Thank you, Miss Scott.

If you'd come with me, Miss Cheadle.

I can't-- I can't leave!

Yes, you can, you're under arrest.

But I have work to do-- there's so much work to do.

I've, I've got work to do!

BENNETT: What can I do for you, Mrs. Keating?

I don't know, really.

Um...

I just don't feel myself.

Can you be a bit more specific?

I'm prone to bouts of, uh, being cross with the children, apparently, but it's more a case of, I feel one thing, then completely opposite.

And, um... Irrational thoughts, mood swings, suicidal?

I feel weepy, which is not like me, and, um... How's the sleep?

(tearfully): Oh, it's dreadful.

I'm tired all day, and then I can't sleep at night, and, um... Perhaps find time to go for a walk or read something comforting.

(chuckles): I barely have time to go to the lavatory.

The washing alone is...

Mother around to help out?

No.

Take these once a day.

Mood stabilizers.

Can't have you losing your temper with the little ones, can we?

No.

Come back in four weeks.

Let's see if things have settled down.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (switch clicks) (door closes) Sylvia.

Don't take this the wrong way, but... Can't promise that.

I've been taking things the wrong way since before the war.

(exhales) You're the last person I expected to see.

Then aren't you lucky that I'm such a persistent friend?

CATHY: I feel like I can't win.

Give her her freedom, they say.

Cut the apron strings, don't cling on.

But as soon as it goes wrong, it's... ...the mother who's to blame.

So what do I do?

Do I let her go out there?

This small girl who I taught to read?

(crying): Taught to swim, with my hand under her belly?

Yes.

That's exactly what you do.

I want to be with her every step of the way.

But I can't, can I?

No one can.

And if you try, you'll drive yourself round the twist.

Maybe I'm already round it.

(chuckles) (inhales) I don't want to end up like her.

Who?

My mother.

You're not mad, Cathy Keating.

You're a woman.

MRS. CHAPMAN: Trying to get by in a world that isn't made for us.

That's cold and brutal.

And now you know Esme is old enough to see it, too.

And just like you did when she was swimming, you moved your hand away and told her how well she was doing.

You let her go.

(cries) ♪ ♪ (people talking in background) Thought you might like some company.

Iris and all that.

I'm not afraid of her.

Glad to hear it.

Good night, ladies.

(whispering): Real life is much more scary.

I've thought about punching him a few times.

Only a few?

Goodness, you are doing well.

(birds chirping, people talking in background) Right.

To men.

I'm kidding-- to us.

To us.

(laughing) So, tell me all about... ♪ ♪ (click) ♪ ♪ There is a Roman soldier in our village.

David.

What's he doing here?

The new vicar?

You should be out there, causing a ruckus.

CAROLINE: Mind if I join you?

Another Roman, Mr. Blakely?

You'd best take a look.

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