Grantchester

I've been asked by the ladies and gentleman

of the Parish Missionary Circle

repeatedly, they are quite the persistent bunch,

to remind you that they are holding a charity auction tomorrow.

Now, as the saying goes,

"He who has no charity deserves no mercy",

and believe me, they will be utterly merciless

if you do not hand over your money.

As always, if you need to talk to me about anything,

bar yesterday's terrible football results,

we are a close-knit community

and my door is always open.

- Thank you for coming. - Thank you, Vicar.

Unmitigated disaster.

Mrs Chapman promised us a dozen cakes for the auction.

- Do you know how many she's made? - Less than a dozen?

The situation with Sylvia is fubar.

Yesterday, she left the house without wearing her girdle.

- No girdle, Will. - No cakes, Will.

And what is a cake stall without cakes?

- Just a table. - That was wonderful. You were wonderful.

I was so moved by it.

The importance of what you're doing, the gravitas of your role.

Victoria sponge, cherry Bakewell, Battenberg.

Eleanor has become positively fascistic about this event.

Poor Eleanor, her husband's quite deaf.

She says the entire thing's driving her to drink.

- What doesn't drive her to drink? - Daniel!

I'd love to pick your brains about following in your footsteps.

- Absolutely. - You need to speak to her, Will.

- Absolutely. - We need 12 cakes, Will.

Absolutely.

The section in the middle was just long and boring...

- Making your escape, Vicar? - Cover me, will you?

I don't know how you put up with my wife and her friends.

Those damnable women blathering on.

All part of the service, Mr Hughes.

The way they all moon around that Daniel fella.

Dansy the Pansy I call him.

Dansy the Pansy!

Must have taken you hours to come up with that.

Oh, Lord, incoming.

One last thing, Will...

It's never one last thing with our wives, is it, Adam?

You will say a blessing in the auction, won't you?

Nothing like a good prayer to guilt the sinners into donating.

Absolutely. I'd be happy to.

Bonnie.

- She certainly is. - Very pretty.

- Single? - We're friends.

But don't let the truth get in the way of a good bit of gossip.

Look at you doing your vicaring.

- They laugh at everything you say? - I am pretty hilarious.

I think it's more likely the dress.

- Now, Bonnie Evans. - Yes, Reverend Davenport?

What do you know about cakes?

- God damn you, Mrs C. - Blasphemy, Vicar.

She hasn't worked once this week. I'm cooking, I'm cleaning.

- Nothing. Ah-ah! - Ooh!

Leaving a grown man to look after himself, it's outrageous.

Ah!

Just cut the burnt bits off.

It's all burnt bits.

- Knife. - Er...

Brandy.

Not sure how that's gonna help.

Oh!

I did actually come here for a reason, you know.

Oh, not just my scintillating company?

That too, obviously.

I'm worried about Cath.

She's really sad and mopey.

- Oh, poor Cath. - How's George?

- Good morning. - Oh.

- It's nearly two. - I know.

If you need me, I'll be in bed.

We need a thing.

You're gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.

No, you know when you're in the army and you make like a plan.

- An operation. - Exactly.

Operation get Cath and Geordie back together

cos they're meant to be

and it's making them miserable that they're not.

That's catchy.

- They love each other. - Of course they do.

They just need to be reminded that love is a very splendid thing.

Like the song.

Many splendored thing.

Really?

Yes.

But that doesn't even sound like a word.

Splendored?

Splen-dored?

What?

Flour.

Oh, Lord, not again!

Oh... Ah.

- Hail, fine fellows. - How now, Leonardo.

That's just a little thing we do.

Jim's interested in becoming a curate.

- I thought you could shed some light. - Wonderful. Yes, of course.

Being a priest is about serving God.

It's about patience, tolerance...

- Mrs C, what are you doing here? - Tolerance.

- It's about kindness to others. - Are you trying to annoy me?

Cos you're doing a bloody good job of it.

- Kindness to others. - You do remember that you work for me?

I'm taking a hiatus.

Perhaps it would be helpful if you told Will

why you're taking a hiatus.

I'm no longer a believer.

She and God had a falling out.

God lost.

You couldn't have lost your faith after you baked 12 cakes?

- So selfish. - I'm selfish? I'm the selfish one?

God deserts us all in the end.

Put that in your little book.

You don't happen to have a dozen cakes lying around, do you?

- Reverend. - Hello, ladies.

I've brought you a little something.

It's, er, baba ghanoush.

Baba ga-what?

I'm gonna have to take your word for that.

Oh, gird your loins, she's on the warpath.

Natalie. What did I say?

High and taut.

High and taut. What does that look like to you?

Low and slack.

Nobody likes their bunting low and slack.

That girl, I can't hold my tongue any more.

- William, can I have a brief word? - I doubt it.

I just want to walk you through your movements.

Ladies, attention, please, a quick run-through.

Will, you stand here.

I introduce you, you pray, pray, pray,

string quartet, play, play, play,

and then me.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," then I show them the auction prizes.

Good haul.

The prizes will, of course, be on the stage

so... curtain!

Natalie.

Applause and into the auction.

- Any questions? - Neil!

I leave you alone for one morning.

Neil Hughes, local electrician.

And that's his wife.

Grace. Grace, this is my friend, Inspector Keating.

Why are there never enough damn saucers for the cups?

Look, why don't we get you home?

- Let's cancel the auction. - No.

I-I have to keep going. I need to keep busy.

When was the last time you saw your husband?

Here last night. Neil was still fixing the lights

when I left with the girls from the missionary circle.

- What time was that? - Seven.

And you spent the rest of the evening on your own?

When I woke and he wasn't there, I didn't think anything of it.

If he works late, he'll often sleep in the van.

Thank you, Grace.

Larry.

- Boss? - Round up the charity ladies for questioning.

- Geordie? - Mm?

God speed.

- He was a wonderful man. - Wonderful.

- Some of the time, at least. - Do anything for anyone.

- Absolutely anything. - For a fair price.

- He fixed your kitchen light. - Didn't ask for a penny.

Let Natalie lodge at his house for gratis.

Well, two shillings a week.

Was it a heart attack, Inspector?

My husband had a heart attack.

- Oh! Keeled right over in the gooseberry patch. - Stone-cold dead.

Gooseberries were never the same after that.

Right! Thank you, everybody out. Let us do our job.

I wouldn't be surprised if they talked him to death.

- Anything stolen? - Nothing, boss.

No sign of forced entry, either.

So he's fixing the light, slips, falls backwards...

And gets a head wound like that?

He's been hit with something sharp.

Murder?

Almost certainly.

- Get anything in here checked for blood and fingerprints. - Boss.

What did you think of him?

He was... fine.

You didn't like him.

I always thought he was a bit arrogant. Pompous.

Sounds like a charmer.

Let's check his van.

How well do you know them?

More than I'd like to sometimes.

- The wife? - Nice. Happily married.

Lucky her.

Aye-aye.

Looks like someone tried to break in.

What about the others?

Er, well, Eleanor Ingram, rich, gossip.

Nothing brightens a room like her absence.

Natalie Benoit, French undergraduate,