A street in Hastings. A taxi is driving along, Major John Kieffer asleep in the back seat. In Kieffer's dreams, flames burning on the surface of the ocean give way to the face of a Colonel.

Colonel: What's your point, Major Kieffer? 

They stand in a foggy empty room.

Kieffer: Sir.

Colonel: Just make sure we find the bodies. We need to make a count. 

Cut to Kieffer in the water, turning over the floating bodies of countless GIs. Then back to the foggy room.

Kieffer: The funerals.

Colonel: There will be no funerals. No next-of-kin. Nothing ever happened here. 

Kieffer: Colonel...

Colonel: Ah. Here's one of them now. 

The b*rned face of GI appears through a curtain of flames, the sound of a scream in the background.

Taxi. A car horn blares outside, and Kieffer wakes up.

Majestic Hotel. Kieffer's taxi pulls up outside. The building is decorated with flags and bunting.

CAPTION: HASTINGS, WEDNESDAY 2nd MAY 1945

Kieffer gets out of the taxi with his bag.

Hotel reception. The receptionist is speaking on the phone.

Receptionist: I'm afraid it's the same all over Hastings. You could try the Royal, but I'm not sure that they'll have anything-

She cuts off as it's clear the other person has hung up. Kieffer approaches the desk.

Kieffer: Major John Kieffer. I have a reservation. 

She checks the reservation book.

Receptionist: Major Kieffer. Yes. I suppose you're on your way home? 

Kieffer: Yeah, that's right. 

Receptionist: Glad to get back to your family? 

Kieffer: Look, why don't you just give me the key, goddammit, and let me go to my room.

She looks taken aback and turns to get the key.

Kieffer: I'm sorry. I'm tired. Thank you. 

Hotel room. Kieffer dumps his bag on the bed and goes over to sit in a chair. He tosses his cap away and sighs.

OPENING CREDITS

A street in Hastings. As Sam's walking along, she passes a spiv with a big bag full of bunting and flags.

Spiv: Want to buy some, er, bunting, love? 

Sam: How much? 

Spiv: Two and six a quarter yard, and you don't need coupons. 

Sam: That's outrageous. 

Spiv: You try and find any in the shops! 

He walks on. Sam approaches the Ingleton Advertising Agency, straightening her uniform before walking in.

Inside. Ray Ingleton paces around Sam where she's sitting at his desk.

Ingleton: "Shift grease with Zixt hand soap." "Beecham's, the golden rule of health." I hope you take my point, Miss Stewart. 

Sam: Absolutely. 

Ingleton: Short and pithy. Six words, but they pin the product down in the public mind. Well, that's what we'll be looking for in the successful applicant. 

Sam: Oh, I thought the position was really just for a secretary, Mr Ingleton. 

Ingleton: The secretary to Mr Thomas, our chief copywriter, but you'd also be his apprentice. Now, we're looking for someone with imagination, someone willing to grasp the nettle. 

Sam: Oh, that's me. I'm willing to grasp it. 

He sits down opposite her.

Ingleton: So! Convince me. 

Sam: I'm sorry? 

Ingleton: Six words. A slogan I can't resist. One that will persuade me to take you on. 

Sam: Er, well, um... 

Ingleton: Can't keep the client waiting, Miss Stewart. 

Sam: Um... Sam Stewart, she... gets the job done! 

He sighs.

Ingleton: Seven words. 

Doctor Ziegler's office. Henry Ziegler is examining a heavily pregnant Edith Milner while Milner stands by.

Ziegler: Well, he's certainly an active little chap. Nothing wrong there. Both of you are in good health. The only question we have to ask is, is he gonna wait for the end of the w*r? 

Milner: How long do you think it will be? 

Ziegler: The w*r or the baby? I'm afraid I couldn't predict either. But you've nothing to worry about, Mrs Milner. Er, have you a bed at St Mary's? 

Edith: Oh, yes. That's where I was working. 

Ziegler: Well, let them look after you for a change. Have you chosen a name? 

Edith: We're going to call him Winston. 

Ziegler: The fourth Winston this week. Not surprising, I suppose. Winston Milner. 

Milner: We're still talking about it. Aren't we? 

Outside. Milner and Edith are leaving.

Milner: How are you feeling? 

He takes her arm and the two of them start walking back together.

Edith: Tired. I'm afraid this wasn't very well timed. 

Milner: But I couldn't be happier. 

Edith: I bought two dozen nappies yesterday. One coupon each! I don't know what we're going to do about his clothes. 

Milner: Well, last time I saw Sam, she'd got her hands on an army blanket and was turning it into a romper suit. 

Edith: Oh, that's a fine start in life, an old blanket. 

Milner: Least he'll be born in a world without w*r. 

Edith: Ooh! 

She looks down at herself.

Edith: If he waits that long. 

Police station reception area. Sergeant Brooke is on duty at the desk while uniformed officers are carrying various boxes around. Foyle, just arriving, holds the door for two of them to leave.

Policeman: Thank you, sir.

Brooke: Good morning, sir. 

Foyle: Morning. 

Brooke: We've, erm, started moving stuff out. 

Foyle: I'd never have guessed. 

Brooke: I can't believe they want to close the old place down. And the new building on Wilder Road, it's a bit of an eyesore, if you don't mind my saying so. 

Foyle: Well, nothing to do with me, sergeant. 

He heads through into the back.

Brooke: Er, there's a Mr Griffiths waiting for you, sir. Local councillor. Put him in your office, out the way. Hope that's all right. 

Foyle: Yeah, that's fine. 

Milner calls out from behind him.

Milner: Morning, sir. 

Foyle: Morning. How is she? 

Milner: Just been to the doctor, sir. All's well. 

Foyle: Good. 

Brooke: Have you, er, heard anything yet, Mr Milner? 

Milner: Not yet. 

Brooke: Promoted to DI and a dad! Not bad for a week's work. 

Milner: Well, I haven't been promoted yet. 

Brooke: It's in the bag. And, er, when you get your pip, maybe you can put in a word for me. 

He turns to look at the movers.

Brooke: No, not there. 

Foyle's office. Mark Griffiths sits across the desk from him.

Griffiths: It's a question of the victory day celebrations. 

Foyle: Is it? What's the matter with them? 

Griffiths: Well, large numbers of people out on the streets day and night. The council has a responsibility, and there are certain issues we have to keep in mind. 

Foyle: What issues in particular? 

Griffiths: As far as I'm concerned, none at all. But as you'll see, I've been asked to chair a committee to look into all aspects of public order and safety. We've taken a room at the museum. 

He hands Foyle a sheet of paper.

Griffiths: It was the only space we could get. Your name is at the top. 

Foyle: Well, ten o'clock tomorrow. That's not a lot of notice. 

Griffiths: We weren't given much notice ourselves, Mr Foyle. But I'm sure we can deal with the matter expeditiously. We do need to coordinate with the police. 

Foyle: Well, of course. 

Griffiths: Thank you. 

He goes to leave.

Foyle: Bye. 

Outside the Majestic Hotel. A photographer takes a picture of hotel owner Martin Longmate as journalist Pete Charman watches.

Charman: Thank you, Mr Longmate. 

Longmate: Shall we go inside? 

Inside. Longmate's assistant Janice Hylton walks through the hotel lounge. She passes behind the sofa where Charman sits interviewing Longmate.

Longmate (offscreen): Well, the fireplace is in fact my wife's great-grandfather, who was the, er, original proprietor of the hotel. 

Charman: So are you expecting the next election soon, Mr Longmate? 

Longmate: Well, it can't happen soon enough for my money. There are certainly plenty of Conservative MPs who are urging the Prime Minister to end the coalition. 

Charman: And you're confident of a Conservative victory? 

Longmate: Well, aren't you? I think even most Labour MPs expect it. 

Charman: Is it true you're planning a victory celebration in the streets of Hastings? 

Longmate: That's right. 

Charman: You're paying for it yourself? 

Longmate: Yes. 

Charman: You don't think some people might see that as an inducement to vote for you when the election finally arrives? 

Longmate: You mean a bribe? 

He tuts.

Longmate: Well, I certainly hope not. I think you underestimate the electorate, Mr Charman. You ask any of my staff here at the hotel. We deserve a party, and we're gonna have one. The fact that I'm paying for it is neither here nor there. 

Charman: Thank you very much, sir. 

Longmate: Always glad to talk to the Chronicle. 

They shake hands and Charman leaves. Janice approaches Longmate.

Janice: Sir, we've had a notification of the committee meeting. It's tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. 

Longmate: At the, er, town hall? 

Janice: They've had to move it to the museum. There's a shortage of space. 

Longmate: Well, nothing would surprise me. This whole town's been turned on its head. 

Janice: Would you like me to attend? 

Longmate: Er, yes. It would be good if you could take minutes, Miss Hylton. Erm, anything else? 

Janice: We're getting an awful lot of requests for rooms. The telephone's been ringing nonstop. 

Longmate: Hastings, the seaside, the end of the w*r. Where else would you want to be? 

Police station. Milner is standing his office looking at a file. Sam approaches with her hands behind her back.

Sam: I've got something for you. 

Milner: Oh, come in. 

Sam: It didn't turn out quite as I hoped, but, erm..

She hands him what looks like a folded blanket. He unfolds it.

Sam: It was that army blanket. For the baby! 

Milner tries to figure out which way up it goes.

Milner: Oh! Thank you, Sam. It's... Edith will love it. 

Sam: Any news on the move yet? 

Milner: I still haven't got my promotion. 

Sam: Well, they'd be mad not to promote you. Oh, if you do go to Brighton, d'you think you'll need a driver? 

Milner: I don't think I'll get a car. 

She snaps her fingers.

Sam: Darn. Oh, well. Better show my face. 

She leaves. Milner frowns at the supposed romper suit.

Foyle's office. He's reading a newspaper at his desk. There's a knock at the door.

Foyle: Yeah?

He closes the paper, revealing the front page headline h*tler d*ad. Sam opens the door and leans in.

Sam: Just to tell you I'm back, sir. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

She goes to leave again.

Foyle: How'd it go? 

Sam: Not very well, I'm afraid, sir. 

She steps into the office.

Foyle: Oh? 

Sam: I really don't know what I'm gonna do when the w*r's over. I am glad Adolf's finally copped it and all that, but a part of me can't help wishing the w*r would go on another year. 

Foyle: Well, glad we don't all think like that. 

Sam: No. It's a stupid thing to say, I suppose. I don't know. This place is closing down, you're retiring, Milner's transferring to Brighton. We've been together so long, I feel I'm losing my family. I don't know what I'm gonna do. I've tried advertising, accountancy, three other offices, but nobody seems to want me. I'll probably end up going back to Leominster, live with my parents and become a governess or something. 

Foyle picks up a leaflet from behind him.

Foyle: Something here might interest you. 

Sam: Is it a job? 

Foyle: Well, sort of. Er, organisation called SSAFA. Mean anything? 

Sam: No, sir. What is it? 

Foyle: Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Families Association. Erm, they, er, help returning servicemen. 

Sam: Help them how? 

Foyle: Well, I'm not altogether sure, but they're asking for more volunteers, and it could be right up your street. 

He hands her the leaflet.

Sam: All right, sir. I'll breeze along. 

She goes to leave, then stops in front of the door.

Sam: Don't you want to reconsider? 

Foyle: Reconsider what? 

Sam: Retiring. 

Foyle: Um... no, thank you. 

She leaves.

Street. Mark Griffiths is walking back to his house. As he reaches the front door, he sees someone has pinned a magazine cover depicting a tiger to the door. He stops for a moment, then tears it down and goes inside. He walks through into the sitting room where his mother Eunice is sitting.

Eunice: Did you get the bread? 

Griffiths: Where did this come from? 

He shows her the picture.

Eunice: What? 

Griffiths: It was on the front door. 

Eunice: A tiger? 

Griffiths: Yes. Who put it there? 

Eunice: Well, I didn't see it. It wasn't there this morning. What is the matter with you, Mark? What is it? 

Griffiths: Nothing. 

Eunice: Well, it must be something. It's obviously upset you. 

Griffiths: It's nothing. 

Eunice: Perhaps you ought to take something. You're miles away. 

Griffiths: I didn't get the bread. All the bakers are sold out. 

Eunice: Right. Well, we won't have bread with our tea, then. 

Griffiths: It doesn't matter. I'll be in late. 

Eunice: You're always late. Are you going to the pub? 

Griffiths: Mother. 

Eunice: Well, you haven't been the same since you came back. I wish you'd tell me what happened. You haven't been the same. 

Foyle house.

Radio: I'm, I'm in the village of Luneburg, and I'm watching the German army coming into surrender. German t*nk, g*n a multitude of lorries and infantrymen in their hundreds have been arriving, bringing with them beaten men.

Foyle stands listening as he puts his coat on.

Radio: In the midst of these defeated soldiers comes a huddle of RAF released prisoners, cheering as they go by. It's what we've been waiting for. The end of the German army in the north.

He turns the radio off.

Outside. Foyle and Sam walk round to the car.

Sam: I don't understand it, sir. h*tler's d*ad, Goering's gone mad - they say he's wearing a toga - and the rest of them are having their faces changed, so why won't they actually announce it's all over? 

Foyle: Beats me. 

Sam: Station, sir? 

Foyle: Nope. The museum. 

Sam: Taking a day off? 

Foyle: Oh, wouldn't that be nice? 

Sam: Oh, I spoke to the people at SSAFA. I'm going to see them this afternoon. 

Foyle: That's good. 

They get into the car and drive away.

Museum. Sam and Foyle pull up outside the entrance just as Doctor Ziegler is heading inside.

Sam: Do you want me to wait for you, sir? 

Foyle: What a good idea. 

He gets out and heads in.

Museum front desk. Ziegler stands in front of Michael Brown, the assistant curator.

Brown: Ziegler. That's a German name. 

Ziegler: I was actually born in Austria. 

Brown: Yes, well, it's all the same now. 

Foyle walks in behind Ziegler.

Ziegler: If you'll forgive me, I really don't see what business my nationality is of yours. 

Brown: You don't come in here without my say-so. 

Ziegler: Obviously, but if you want to disrupt this committee because of my name... 

Foyle: Is there a problem? 

Brown: Er, no sir. Just checking the register. 

Foyle: Er, who are you? 

Brown: Brown, sir. Michael Brown. Assistant curator. I've been asked to keep an eye on you gentlemen while you're here. 

Ziegler: I'm Henry Ziegler. Doctor Ziegler. 

They shake hands.

Foyle: How do you do? Christopher Foyle. 

Ziegler: This gentleman seems to have some problem with my parentage. 

Brown: Not at all, sir. I'm just doing my job. 

Foyle: All right for us to go in now, do you think? 

Brown: Oh, certainly, sir. I'll tick you off. Up the stairs. 

Foyle and Ziegler head up the staircase.

Ziegler: Odd place to be holding a Victory Day committee. 

Foyle: Yeah, isn't it? 

They reach the top and Ziegler looks around.

Ziegler: Oh. Ah, I think we must be through here. 

He points through a doorway to the left. Shortly after, Michael Brown comes up and listens in through the doorway.

Longmate (offscreen): Fortunately, we still have supplies. I just hope we're not going to be accused of hoarding. 

Griffiths (offscreen): Ah, Mr Foyle. And Doctor Ziegler. 

Brown turns and walks away.

Committee room. Griffiths stands with Martin Longmate as Foyle and Ziegler arrive.

Griffiths: May I introduce Martin Longmate, who owns the Majestic Hotel. 

They both shake hands with him.

Ziegler: Longmate. We've met, I think. 

Longmate: No. I don't think so. 

Ziegler: Martin Longmate. I feel sure I know the name. 

Longmate: You may have read about me. 

Ziegler: Ah, yes? 

Longmate: In the press. I'm, um, standing for parliament. 

Ziegler: Perhaps. 

Griffiths: And this is Miss Hylton, who has kindly agreed to take the minutes. 

Janice stands up briefly from her seat.

Janice: How do you do? 

Longmate: So are we all here? 

Griffiths: One more still to come. 

As they head towards the table, Major Kieffer arrives.

Kieffer: I'm sorry I'm late. 

He spots Foyle.

Kieffer: Christopher! 

Foyle: John. 

Kieffer: What are you doing here? 

Foyle: Well, what are you doing here? 

Kieffer: Well, I'm on the committee. 

Foyle: Well, me too. 

Kieffer: Well, I suppose now I come to think of it, you're the first person they'd invite. How are you? 

They shake hands.

Foyle: Much the same. I thought you'd been transferred. 

Kieffer: Yeah, that's right. Now I'm back. I'm Major John Kieffer, with the 215th US Engineers. We built the air base at, er, Hawthorn Hill. 

Ziegler: That monstrosity! 

Kieffer: So you don't like it, huh? Well, it helped us launch the invasion into Northern Europe and win the w*r, but, you know, I'm really sorry if it, er, spoiled the landscape. 

Ziegler: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... 

Kieffer: No, no, no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It just, er, took a lot of the blood, sweat, toil and tears your Mr Churchill goes on about. 

Hotel lobby. Michael Brown is coming down the stairs and sees Sam waiting.

Brown: You waiting for someone? 

Sam: DCS Foyle. 

Brown: Ah. 

Sam: Do you work here? 

Brown: Yeah. Well, I'm assistant curator. Yeah, I was in the Home Guard until they stood us down. Now I'm back here. 

Sam: Do you know how long they're going to be? 

Brown: I couldn't believe it. They've got a Jerry up there! Did you see that? 

Sam: No, I can't say I did. 

Brown: I mean, you read what that lot have been doing, Belsen and all that stuff, and it makes you sick. They're not human. 

Sam: Well, forgive and forget, I suppose. 

Brown: Not a bit of it. We ought to k*ll the whole lot of them. Wipe them off the face of the Earth. 

He walks through into the back.

Sam: Nice talking to you. 

Meeting room.

Griffiths: Right, shall we start at the beginning? Public order offences. 

Longmate: Well, like what, exactly, Mr Griffiths? 

Griffiths: Well, the destruction of public property, for a start. Are you aware that several park benches have already disappeared? Dismantled, we believe, to make bonfires.

Kieffer: Boy, that's the British for you. You come out of a world w*r and you start worrying about a few park benches. 

Griffiths: Major Kieffer, I should remind you there are many hundreds of American GIs here in Hastings, and they're not known for their orderly conduct when it comes to street parties. 

Kieffer: I guess you've got it in for the Yanks, haven't you? 

Griffiths: I didn't say that. 

Kieffer: Well, maybe I should remind you, Mr Griffiths, the end of the w*r was announced on US bases a week ago, and, er, we didn't have any problems. 

Longmate: A week ago? 

Kieffer: Actually, it was an error. But, er, we didn't lose our heads. No d*ad bodies. 

Longmate: Look, I'm sure there are gonna be public order offences, erm, drunkenness, destruction of public property.  But, er, surely to goodness, after five years, people deserve a chance to let their hair down. 

Foyle: And you're, er, organising a party, is that right? 

Janice: It's gonna be the largest in the south of England. Mr Longmate's paying for it himself. 

Longmate: I'm just doing my bit, as I wasn't able to fight. 

Ziegler: You weren't fit for active service, Mr Longmate? 

Longmate: Problem with my eyes. 

Ziegler: Your eyes? 

Longmate: That's right. 

Kieffer: Anything else? Besides park benches? 

Hastings SSAFA headquarters.

Calder (voiceover): Right now, we need all the help we can get. 

Inside, Anne Calder leads Sam, dressed in civilian clothes, through a big room filled with racks and tables of clothing.

Calder: Our main role is a practical one. Information, to begin with. Jessica.

She waves at another woman in passing.

Calder: Er, you worked with the police? 

Sam: Yes.

Calder: Well, a bit of detective work may be called for. We have thousands of returning soldiers searching for friends and families. People have moved. Many have been b*mb out.

She picks up some leaflets from a table where they're set out.

Calder: And then there are wounded or missing servicemen with families searching for them. 

Sam: How can I help? 

Calder: Well, we have people coming in every day, and every single one of them has a different need. 

Sam picks up one of the leaflets.

Calder: It may just be a question of clothing. 

Sam: Well, don't they get demob suits? 

Calder: That's hardly adequate. No, we have a central clothing branch in London that sends out almost a million pieces of clothing a year. Then there's food, housing or just a friendly face, someone they can talk to. 

They sit down together at another table.

Sam: Well, that's me. 

Calder: Miss Stewart, I think I should warn you, some of these men are more damaged than any of us really understands. Fighting in a w*r, being taken prisoner, being injured, just being away, in some cases for years, it takes its toll. 

Sam: I'm sure. 

Calder: So, you think you can cope? 

Sam: I'll give it my best sh*t. 

Calder: Not quite the right expression in the circumstances, but let's see how you go. 

Kieffer's hotel room, night. He tosses and turns restlessly, dreaming.

Foggy room.

Kieffer: Bodies. 

GI bodies floating in the water.

Colonel (voiceover): Thank you, Major Kieffer. 

Foggy room.

Kieffer: Hundreds of them.

A glimpse of someone in British navy uniform turning a dial.

Colonel (voiceover): It was nobody's fault, Major. 

Foggy room.

Kieffer: That's not true. You know that's not true. 

Colonel: Who cares about the truth? We win the w*r. That's all that matters. Just get back home. 

Hotel room. The Colonel's voice continues to echo, distorting.

Colonel (voiceover): Just get back home... Just get back home... 

Cut back to Kieffer's dream as he turns over countless GI bodies floating in the water.

Hotel room. There's the sound of an aeroplane passing by, and Kieffer sits up with a gasp. He pants for breath, then turns the bedside lamp on. There's a bottle of alcohol on the nightstand, and he picks it up and pours himself a drink.

Kieffer: Ah.

He pants.

Hylton house. Soldier Eddie Hylton rounds the wall in front of the house with a kitbag.

CAPTION: FRIDAY 4th MAY 1945

He stands and looks at the house for a moment, then moves towards it.

Inside. Janice is pouring a cup of tea with music on the radio.

Outside. Eddie approaches and knocks on the front door.

Inside. Janice sets the kettle down and goes to answer it.

Janice: Eddie! 

Tearful, she rushes forward to kiss and hug him.

Police station reception area. Brooke turns to look as a uniformed officer clatters the plates that he's loading into a moving box. Sam walks in behind them.

Brooke: Be careful with that! That's a hundred quid's worth of the best china. 

Sam: Best china? The only thing we've got in the canteen is a few cracked mugs. 

Brooke: Evidence, Miss Stewart. Nicked from a warehouse in Eastbourne. The case comes up next month. 

Foyle walks between the two of them, heading into the back.

Brooke: Morning, sir. 

Foyle: Sergeant. 

Brooke turns back to Sam.

Brooke: There's something in the paper you ought to see. 

He goes round behind the front desk.

Sam: Don't tell me. They've finally announced it's over? 

Brooke: No such luck. No, it's on the employment page. There. Thought it might suit you. 

She looks at the newspaper.

Sam: "Prospective conservative candidate seeks personal assistant." Well, I don't know, Brookie. I don't know a thing about politics. 

Brooke: You don't know about advertising either, but that didn't stop you. 

Sam: That's true. 

Brooke: It's a local number. Why not give it a ring? 

Sam: Yeah, I could do worse. 

Brooke: Yeah, and if he does get in, you could end up in Parliament. 

Milner comes in behind them.

Sam: Maybe I'll get to meet Winnie! 

Brooke laughs.

Brooke: Yeah. Morning, Mr Milner. 

Milner: Morning. 

The policeman doing the packing knocks over the crate of china.

Brooke: What do you think you're doing? 

Policeman: Sorry, sir. 

He stands the crate back up as Brooke hurries over.

Foyle's office. He's just getting a paper from the filing cabinet as Milner arrives in the doorway.

Milner: Sir.

Foyle: Sergeant. 

Milner: How was the committee? 

Foyle goes over and starts dialling the phone.

Foyle: Well, a complete waste of time. A lot of talk about nothing in particular, no action at the end of it - sort of more or less as expected, really. 

Milner: At least it's over. 

Foyle: No, they want us back tomorrow. 

He speaks into the phone.

Foyle: Hello? Hotel reception, please. 

Milner: A Saturday? 

Foyle: We have to be prepared for every eventuality, it seems. 

Milner: VE Day. That's what they're calling it. Victory in Europe. 

He leaves and Foyle speaks into the phone.

Foyle: Hello? I understand you have a Major Kieffer is staying with you. Is that right? 

Hylton house. Janice and Eddie are at the table together.

Janice: Why didn't you tell me you were coming home? 

Eddie: That's all right, innit? Stop and ask someone if I could use the blower. 

Janice: Well, you could have written. 

Eddie: I only got out at the last minute. There was a spare seat on a Dakota and the CO said I could have it, 'cause I'd been out there the longest. 

Janice: So where were you? I don't even know where you've been. 

Eddie: It was an island. A place called Ist. 

Janice: Ist? That's a funny name. 

Eddie: Yeah. 

Janice: We'll have to find it on the map. It would have been easier knowing where you were. That was the worst of it. 

Eddie: Well, we moved around a bit. 

Janice: Here, give me a hug. 

She goes round to him and gives him a hug and a kiss on the temple.

Eddie: You feel different. 

Janice: What you talking about? 

Eddie: I don't know. Put on weight. 

Janice: That's not a nice thing to say! 

Eddie: No, it suits you. It's funny though. 

Janice: What? 

Eddie: Nothing. 

Janice: You're different too, Eddie. 

Eddie: How? 

Janice: I haven't seen you for four years. You've been away for four years. It's like I'm meeting you for the first time. 

Eddie: Yeah. Well, got a lot of catching up to do. 

Janice: Not now! 

She pulls away from him.

Janice: I've got to get to work. 

Eddie: You're not serious. 

Janice: Well, I'm not going to work. Of course I'm not. But I've got to let Mr Longmate know. I'll have to call in. 

Eddie: Who's Mr Longmate? 

Janice: My boss. I wrote to you. The Majestic Hotel. He gave me a job. 

Eddie: Is that all he gave you? 

Janice: Don't say things like that! Why don't you come along with me? 

Eddie: Yeah. Maybe I will. 

Janice: We'll go along together. You can meet Mr Longmate. Maybe he can help you. 

Eddie: Why should I need any help? 

Janice: You need a job. 

Eddie: A job? Work? 

Janice: The w*r's over, Eddie. We need to start again. 

Eddie: Yeah. 

Janice: You made it. That's all that matters. And we're together. 

Doctor Ziegler's office.

Griffiths (voiceover): I can't bear it. 

Ziegler (voiceover): Your blood pressure is very high. 

He removes the blood pressure cuff from Griffiths' arm.

Ziegler: When did you last get a proper night's sleep? 

Griffiths: I can't sleep. 

Ziegler: Maybe it's the silence. You'd be surprised how many people are finding it impossible to sleep without b*mb dropping, and the sirens. 

Griffiths: I need something. 

Ziegler: What you need, Mr Griffiths, is to rest. 

Griffiths: Rest. 

Ziegler: What is it you've got on your mind? 

Griffiths: I'm being persecuted. 

Ziegler: Persecuted? 

Griffiths: Because of what happened. It was terrible. Horrible. It- but it wasn't just me. 

Ziegler: Please, old chap. Just try to calm down. You're not any making sense. 

Griffiths: Why are they blaming me? 

Ziegler: Nobody's blaming you for anything. You've worked yourself up into a state. 

Griffiths: I can't even go out of the house. 

Ziegler: Look, I'm going to give you a prescription. Something to calm you down and help you to sleep. And I think you should give our next committee meeting a miss. You're in no state for anything. 

Griffiths: It wasn't my fault! I don't deserve this! 

Majestic hotel. Eddie stands waiting in the lounge. Janice comes out of another room, followed by Longmate.

Longmate: I am very, very pleased to meet you, Edward. 

They shake hands.

Longmate: You didn't tell me he was coming home. 

Janice: I didn't know. 

Longmate: Can I get you something? A drink? Something to eat? 

Eddie: I'm all right, thank you, sir. 

Longmate: Well, please, sit down. 

Eddie and Janice sit down on one of the sofas.

Longmate: Well, I imagine you've been around the houses, then. 

Eddie: Tunisia, Greece, Albania, Libya and Italy. That's right, sir. 

Longmate: Quite a w*r. 

Eddie: Could say that. 

Longmate: Glad it's over?

Eddie's silent.

Longmate: I can imagine you'll find it hard to adapt, er, Civvy Street and all that. 

Eddie: I just need a bit of time to myself, sir. With my wife. 

Longmate: Of course. Janice, you must take as much time as you need. 

Janice: Well, I hate to let you down, Mr Longmate. 

Longmate: Don't even think of it. And Edward, when you've had a chance to settle in a bit, you must come and see me.  You were, um, a joiner before the w*r? 

Eddie: General carpenter, sir. 

Longmate: There's plenty of work here. We'll always have a place for you. 

The Hyltons stand up.

Janice: What about the committee, Mr Longmate? 

Longmate: Susan can come with me. Don't worry. 

Outside. Sam approaches the hotel.

Man: Luggage is in? 

Porter: All in, sir. 

The Hyltons are just coming out of the building. There's a bang as someone closes something and Eddie jumps and turns to look.

Janice: It's nothing, Eddie. Come on! 

Hotel reception area. Sam approaches the receptionist.

Sam: I have an appointment with Mr Longmate. It's Miss Stewart. 

Receptionist: I'll let him know you're here. 

Foyle house. Kieffer walks into the front room, holding a bottle. Foyle follows him in.

Kieffer: Well, here we are again. Just like old times. 

Foyle: Is it? 

Kieffer: You tell me. Here. I brought you something. 

Foyle: That's very kind of you. 

Kieffer: Figured supplies might be running a little low. 

Foyle: You're right. 

Kieffer: You can open it. 

Foyle: Oh, it's a bit early for me. 

Kieffer: Not for me. 

Foyle: Sit down.

He goes over to pour Kieffer a drink.

Foyle: Water? 

Kieffer: No, thanks. How's your boy? 

Foyle: I wish I knew. Er, he's in Malta. Haven't heard for quite a while. 

He gives Kieffer his drink.

Kieffer: So why do you want to see me? 

Foyle: Well, no, I said I'd like to see you if you had the time. Not quite the same thing. 

He goes over to sit down in the chair opposite.

Kieffer: So this isn't official? 

Foyle: No. 

Kieffer takes his hat off.

Kieffer: Bottoms up. 

He downs the drink.

Foyle: Another? 

Kieffer: No, thank you, Christopher. I don't need another. You asked me to come over here. I want to know why. 

Foyle: Well, look, it just occurred to me that, er, after the surprise of seeing other the other day, erm, you've obviously been in Hastings, you haven't been in touch, and I just wondered if everything was all right. 

Kieffer: I'm fine. Glad to be back. 

Foyle: And you've been in Devon. Is that right? 

Kieffer: Yeah. And it rained even more down there than it does here. 

Foyle: Do any fishing? 

Kieffer: Never got the chance. 

Foyle: Well, listen, I'm going out tomorrow. Interested? 

Kieffer: I thought we were all meeting again tomorrow. The g*dd*mn committee. 

Foyle: Well, the g*dd*mn committee is in the afternoon. We've still got the morning. 

Kieffer: No thanks, Christopher. I'll pass. I kind of lost the taste for fishing over the years. 

Foyle: I'm sorry to hear that. 

Kieffer: I lost the taste for a lot of things. 

He stands up.

Kieffer: You know what? I just want to go home. That's about the size of it. 

Majestic Hotel. Sam and Longmate walk through into his office.

Longmate: Well, here we are. Er, please take a seat. 

They both sit down.

Longmate: Um, tell me about your w*r, Miss Stewart. 

Sam: Well, there's not much to tell, really. Um, I started out in the MTC, Motorised Transport Corps, and then I was transferred to the police. 

Longmate: A detective? 

Sam: No such luck. A driver. And that's what I've been doing ever since. 

Longmate: And are you interested in politics? 

Sam: Absolutely. 

Longmate: So what are your views on, for example, Beveridge and his ideas for a National Health Service? 

Sam: Oh, I'm all for it. 

Longmate: But we also want to reduce taxation. 

Sam: Can't you do both? 

Longmate: May not be possible. 

Sam: Ah. That is a bit tricky, isn't it? 

Longmate: Have you thought about Labour plans for public ownership? 

Sam: Constantly. 

She laughs a little.

Sam: Look, I, I don't really know much about politics, Mr Longmate. In fact I don't really know anything, but, um, it seems to me that we trusted Mr Churchill to bring us through the w*r, and we ought to trust him now with the peace. 

Longmate: Well, that's very honest of you, Miss Stewart, and honesty in politics can be a very rare commodity. I wondered if you'd have lunch with me tomorrow? 

Sam: Oh! Well, I'm not sure I'm-

Longmate: I'm sorry. That's, that's, that's very forward of me, and, um, please, please don't take it the wrong way. You see, a large part of the work, um, being my personal assistant would involve one-to-one contact both with me and with my constituents. Now, we need to know that we can get along. So all I'm proposing is something a little less formal than this interview. 

Sam: I'm afraid I'm not free for lunch. Erm, I'm working with SSAFA. 

Longmate: That's very commendable. Does you credit. How about dinner? 

Sam: Tomorrow? 

Longmate: The hotel has a very good cook. 

Sam: I suppose so. All right. 

Longmate: Well, I'll see you here at seven o'clock, and we can talk some more. 

Hylton house. Janice and Eddie are sitting down to a meal.

Janice: You're not eating anything. 

Eddie: Not hungry. 

Janice: You must be hungry. That's the best tinned salmon. I don't know the last time I opened a tin. I never have enough points. 

Eddie: Where d'you get it? 

Janice: The hotel. 

Eddie: Longmate? 

Janice: What's wrong with you, Eddie? Yes. He gave it to me for you. He's looked after me. 

Eddie: What's that meant to mean? 

Janice: He's given me a job! I had to do something while you were away. Is this how it's gonna be? You've come back, but it's like I hardly know you. 

Eddie: I need to see someone. 

Janice: Who? 

Eddie: The quack. I've got gut-rot. I need to see someone. 

Janice: I'll make you an appointment. 

Eddie: It's all right. I've already done it. Doctor Ziegler. 

Janice: Ziegler? 

Eddie: I'm seeing him tomorrow. 

Janice: You should let me look after you. 

Eddie: You can. I'll tell you where you can start. What is it you're not telling me? 

Griffiths house. Mark Griffiths walks in through the front door. Eunice is waiting on the stairs.

Eunice: Where've you been? 

Griffiths: The pub. Felt like a drink. 

Eunice: You could have had a drink here. 

Griffiths: There's nothing in the pantry. 

Eunice: Have you eaten? 

Griffiths: No. 

Eunice: Would you like something? 

Griffiths: It's all right, Mother. 

Eunice: You've got to eat. 

He picks up an envelope from the hall table.

Griffiths: What's this? 

Eunice: I don't know. It's addressed to you. 

Griffiths: Who delivered it? 

Eunice: I didn't see. Someone knocked on the door. I went outside and it was there on the step. 

Griffiths: You didn't see them? 

Eunice: I've just told you. Are you going to open it? 

Griffiths: No. 

She sighs and goes to leave.

Eunice: Oh.

After a moment, Griffiths opens the envelope. Sand pours out of it onto the floor. As Eunice looks back through the doorway, Griffiths drops the envelope and begins to sob.

River.

CAPTION: SATURDAY 5th MAY 1945

Foyle is fishing. Vera Lynn's "When the Lights Go On Again" plays. Andrew Foyle approaches in his RAF uniform and stands watching his father for a moment.

Andrew: Dad.

Foyle turns and sees him.

Andrew: I thought I'd find you here. 

Later. The two of them walk along the riverbank together.

Foyle house. Foyle pours Andrew a drink at the table and brings it over to him in the front room.

Foyle: Here we are.

Andrew: Cheers, Dad. Hmm! Full bottle of scotch. Where on Earth did you get that? 

Foyle: Well, it's bourbon. 

He goes back over to the table to pour himself a drink.

Andrew: Ah, Americans. 

Foyle: Yeah, a friend of mine. Or rather, was. So is this just a visit, or are you back for good? 

Andrew: I'm not flying any more. I, er, had a touch of sinusitis a couple of months ago. Well, more than a touch. Four days in hospital. 

Foyle: Cured? 

Andrew: Don't ask. It was bloody painful. Then the Group Captain sent me home. 

Foyle sits down opposite him.

Foyle: So you're out of it? 

Andrew: Yeah. I made it. Can't stop thinking about all the ones who didn't. Rex Talbot. Charlie Paige. So many of them. They were my friends, and yet it's like I hardly knew them. Here one day, gone the next. Best of the best. 

Foyle: Why them, not you? 

Andrew: That's what I wonder all the time.

Foyle: Perhaps you were the better pilot. 

Andrew: You know, what they say is exactly the opposite. The real fliers, the ones who knew what they were doing, they were the easiest to bring down. It was the lazy bastards, the ones who cut corners, who didn't do it by the book. We got away with it because Jerry didn't know what to expect. You're definitely leaving the police, then? 

Foyle: Can't wait. 

Andrew: How's Sam? 

Foyle: Why do you ask? 

Andrew: Just wondering. 

Foyle: You met somebody else, didn't you? 

Andrew: Yeah. 

He clears his throat.

Andrew: Didn't work out. And Debden was bloody awful, if you want the truth, Dad. Drizzled the whole time and the only decent pubs were in Cambridge. Didn't like the training. Missed my Spit. Kate was a nice girl. In the WAAF. Sort of persuaded myself I was in love with her. But I wasn't. 

Foyle: Well, Sam's all right. I mean, she's still the driver, and she's got some voluntary work with SSAFA. 

Andrew: I'd like to see her. Maybe I'll look her up. 

Foyle: You weren't very kind to her. 

Andrew: I know. Stupid bloody w*r. Do you think it was worth it, Dad? 

Foyle: Well, we've all paid a price, some more than others, but I have absolutely no doubt whatsoever. 

Andrew: Yes. 

Foyle: And I'm very glad you're back. 

Griffiths house. The telephone rings. Griffiths goes to pick it up.

Griffiths: Hello? 

Kieffer (phone): It was just a few numbers.

Griffiths: Who is this? What do you want? 

Telephone box.

Kieffer: More than 700 American boys died because of you. 

Griffiths house.

Griffiths: No, that's not true. I wasn't responsible. You're mistaken. Now leave me alone! 

He hangs up.

Beach. Kieffer leaves the phone box and walks away.

Hastings SSAFA headquarters. Eddie approaches the building.

Inside. Eddie sits at one of the tables. Sam brings him a cup of tea.

Sam: You look like you could do with a cup. Sugar's had it, I'm afraid. 

She sits down opposite him.

Eddie: I don't take sugar. 

Sam: Well, that's all right, then. I'm Sam Stewart. 

Eddie: Hylton. Edward. Ed. 

Sam: Just back? 

Eddie: Yeah. 

Sam: Where were you? 

Eddie: All around. 

Sam: Army? 

Eddie: Y Patrol. Long range desert group, signals operator. 

Sam: You must be glad to be out. 

Eddie: No. No, I'm not sure I am. 

Sam: I don't know why people aren't more cheerful. The w*r's over, but everyone seems the same. Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet. 

Eddie: I was told you could help me with work and that sort of thing. 

Sam: We can try. 

Eddie: So, what can you do for me, Miss Stewart? 

Sam: Well, we have a booklet. It tells you what, what kind of things we have on offer here. University grants, training programmes, employment schemes, that sort of thing. Are you all right for money? 

Eddie: I've got money. They gave me eight weeks' paid leave. 

Sam: And you have somewhere to live? 

Eddie: I have a house, but I'm thinking of moving. I don't want to stay in Hastings. 

Sam: Maybe you should try the Resettlement Advice Office. There's one in Welham Road. 

Eddie: Welham Road. 

Sam: And did you know we have a married families club? Are you married? You might like to join. I'm sorry. If you want the honest truth, this is my first day here and I'm not much cop at it. I'm all right at making a cup of tea, but that's about it. Do you want me to find someone else? 

Eddie: No. I've got nothing to say. 

Sam: Is it really so bad, being back? 

Eddie: Dunno where I am any more. Don't know what to believe. Four years out there, behind the lines, doing what we did, all of us together. And they suddenly tell us it's all over, we've got to come back and start again. How we meant to do that? How are we meant to put it all behind us? Cup of tea? Married families club? Half my mates got k*lled out there. Maybe they were the lucky ones. 

Museum front desk. Michael Brown is reading a newspaper article headed BRITAIN ENRAGED BY NEW n*zi HORRORS. He puts it down and walks off.

Meeting room. The committee are back around the table, with a new woman taking the minutes in place of Janice.

Ziegler: I don't understand why they keep hanging on. It's not good for people, waiting all the time for an announcement. I'm getting a lot of my patients coming in with nervous conditions, depressed, unable to sleep. 

Longmate: I heard a rumour it's gonna be tomorrow. 

Ziegler: I heard that rumour about today. 

Griffiths: I've received, er, written confirmation that when the victory is announced, all the public houses are to remain open until midnight. Now where is it? 

He r*fles through his papers. Longmate picks up another sheet from the table.

Longmate: Erm, licensing hours, Hastings and Eastbourne. I think that's what you're looking for.

Griffiths: Thank you. As Doctor Ziegler said, I haven't slept myself. 

Kieffer: That's too bad. 

Ziegler: Are you sure you're well enough to go on? 

Griffiths: Yes, yes. That's why we're all here. Now, more supplies of whisky and gin have been distributed across the south coast, and the bottles are marked "not to be sold until victory night". We need to be sure that's strictly adhered to, Mr Foyle. 

Foyle: I don't quite see how we're supposed to do that, exactly. I mean, We can send officers into as many pubs as you like, but, er, the chances of them coming out again are pretty slim, I'd have said. 

Doctor Ziegler's office. Edith and Milner are just walking away from the building.

Milner: So what did he say? 

Edith: Doctor Ziegler wasn't there, but the nurse saw me. There's nothing to worry about. The baby's being slow, that's all. 

As the two of them walk along the street, Edith spots Janice Hylton walking with Eddie.

Edith: Janice! 

Janice: Er, I'm sorry? 

Edith: It's Edith! You must remember. We met at Doctor Ziegler's. 

Janice: No. You're wrong. I, I don't know you. 

Edith: But you were... 

She looks at Janice and then Eddie.

Edith: Oh, I'm sorry. I must have mistaken you for somebody else. 

She and Milner walk on.

Eddie: Who was she? 

Janice: I dunno. I just said. I never met her before. 

Eddie: She knew your name. 

Janice: Well, I didn't know hers. You look tired, Edward. I've got a few errands to run. Why don't you go home on your own? 

She walks away.

Museum. Michael Brown climbs the stairs and listens in on the committee meeting for a moment.

Griffiths (offscreen): Right. I don't think there are any other matters outstanding. 

Brown moves off.

Meeting room.

Longmate: Well, if that's so, would you mind very much if I took myself off? I still have a party to organise. 

Ziegler: How many people are you inviting, Mr Longmate? 

Longmate: Well, the whole town's invited, Doctor Ziegler. That includes you. 

Ziegler: Oh, thank you. But I think I shall be staying peacefully at home. 

Longmate: There'll be enough whisky and gin for everyone, that I can promise. 

Kieffer: Not to be sold until victory night. 

Longmate: Exactly. 

Kieffer: Yeah, we wouldn't want to be sending out the wrong signals. 

Longmate: Miss Gilbert will take the minutes, and I'll say good day. 

Outside. Sam pulls up to the building in the car. Janice Hylton walks past, heading into the building.

Meeting room. Foyle stands up.

Foyle: I should be going as well. 

Ziegler: Actually, Mr Foyle, there was one thing I wanted to talk to you about. 

Foyle: Yeah? 

Ziegler: Um, it's a private matter. I wonder if I might call in at the police station. Are you there this afternoon? 

Foyle: I am. Any time you like. 

Ziegler: Thank you. 

Foyle turns to Kieffer.

Foyle: Going my way? 

Kieffer: No, I need some shuteye. I'm heading back to the hotel. 

Foyle: All right. 

Griffiths is still sitting at the table.

Ziegler: You all right? 

Griffiths: Yes. Thank you. 

Museum display case. Someone takes a Kn*fe from a line of them on display.

Outside. Major Kieffer leaves the building, passing Sam where she stands by the car. Foyle comes out after him, and spots Sam waiting.

Foyle: It's Saturday. What are you doing here? 

Sam: Thought you might like someone to get you out of here, sir. 

Foyle: The sooner the better. 

As he goes to get into the car, he spots Janice Hylton leaving the museum.

Museum reception area. Ziegler leaves the building. Shortly after, Griffiths comes down the staircase. Michael Brown walks by as he's leaving.

Brown: Good day, Mr Griffith. 

Outside. Ziegler is walking along a secluded back street. He looks over his shoulder, then turns back and stops, smiling at someone in front of him.

Street. Two boys are pushing an effigy of h*tler along in a barrow. Sergeant Brooke walks past them in civilian clothes.

Brooke: What are you doing with that? 

Boy: What do you think? We're burning it.

Brooke: Good lads. 

He walks round the corner to where a spiv has a stall set up covered in flags on sticks.

Spiv: Bunting! Union Jacks! Red, white and blue! No street party's complete. Buy your colours here. 

Brooke: I'll have a couple of flags, please. 

Spiv: Five bob each, mate. 

Brooke: Five bob? You're pulling my leg. 

Spiv: Well, you want one, that's the price you gotta pay. 

Brooke sighs and reaches into his pocket.

Brooke: All right. I'll have this one. 

He goes to pick up one of the flags.

Spiv: That one's two quid. 

Brooke: What? 

The spiv shows him a much smaller flag, made of paper.

Spiv: This one's five bob. 

Brooke: You're not serious.

Spiv: Do I look like I'm joking? You don't like it, you go somewhere else. 

Brooke: People died for this flag. Doesn't that mean something? 

Spiv: Look, I'm trying to do business here. 

Brooke: No, what you're doing is profiteering. And in case you hadn't noticed, there's still a law against that.

Spiv: Says who? The w*r's over, mate. Or haven't they told you? 

Brooke: The law's still the law. 

Spiv: So, what are you gonna do, then? Arrest me? 

Brooke: Yeah. That's exactly what I'm going to do. My name is Sergeant Brooke, Sussex constabulary. 

He shows his warrant card.

Brooke: And you are coming with me. 

Spiv: Oh, bloody hell. 

He tosses an armful of bunting in Brooke's face and runs for it.

Brooke: Stop that man! 

He chases after the spiv, who pushes past two women.

Brooke: Stop! Stop that man! 

They run past a church.

Brooke: Stop! Stop! 

The spiv joins a line of mourners at funeral.

Brooke: Stop! 

Brooke runs past him, then stops to look around. The spiv runs off again, and Brooke chases.

Brooke: Stop! Hey! Stop! Stop that man! 

The spiv runs down a set of steps and into the same back street where Ziegler was walking earlier. Ziegler lurches out in front of the two of them.

Brooke: Stop! 

The spiv runs past Ziegler, who collides with Brooke. Ziegler collapses back against the wall, groaning in pain. Brooke looks down and sees his hand is covered in blood. Ziegler continues to groan, and Brooke supports him as he slides down the wall.

Majestic Hotel. The doorman holds the door open for Kieffer to walk out. As he's leaving, Sam gets out of a taxi in front and pays the driver.

Inside. Sam walks through into the hotel restaurant and looks around. Longmate walks up to her.

Longmate: Miss Stewart. How very good of you to come. 

Sam: Thank you for inviting me. 

Longmate: Shall we go in? 

Sam: Mmm. May I ask you something, Mr Longmate? Do you invite everyone who's applied for this job to dinner? 

Longmate: Absolutely not. Shall we say you're, um, through to the second round. 

Later. The two of them are seated at a table in the restaurant.

Longmate: Two advantages to owning an hotel. Deep cellars, and I get to choose who drinks what. 

He pours out some wine.

Sam: 

How did you come to own an hotel? 

Longmate: Well, I'd like to tell you that I started from the bottom and worked my way up, but, um, I'm afraid that's not true. I inherited the hotel when my wife died. 

Sam: I'm sorry. 

Longmate: Yes, it was at the very start of the w*r. She was... visiting a friend in London and, er... took a direct h*t. Well, there have been so many casualties, so much suffering. That's why this next election is going to be so important. We've got to rebuild. It's a chance to start again. 

Sam: You never actually told me what you expected your assistant to do. 

Longmate: To stay close to me. To be someone I can trust. 

Sam: That's not quite what it said in the advertisement. 

Longmate: Well, I was paying by the word. So you were in the MTC? 

Sam: For a year.

Longmate: And then the police. That's rather unusual. Who exactly did you drive? 

Sam: A detective. Here in Hastings. His name is Mr Foyle. 

Janice Hylton enters the room.

Longmate (offscreen): Christopher Foyle? 

Sam: Yes. Have you met him? 

Longmate: Well, yes, I was- I was with him this afternoon. 

Janice (offscreen): Martin. 

Longmate looks up at her and then quickly over at Sam.

Longmate: Miss Hylton. 

Janice: I've been looking for you. 

Longmate: I'm afraid this is a private dinner. I really can't talk now. 

Janice: A private dinner? I know what you're doing. I know exactly what you're doing! 

Longmate stands up.

Longmate: Janice, remember, this is a public place. You can't behave like this. Please.

Janice: I need to speak to you. 

Longmate: Not now! 

Janice: Now! 

The conversation in the restaurant falls silent.

Longmate: Miss Stewart, I'm afraid you're gonna have to forgive me, but, er, this is my current secretary, who as you can see is a little distraught, but, er, to be honest, if I may, I don't think you'd be right for the post. I'm very sorry. 

He and Janice walk away. Sam sighs, then picks up her glass of wine and drinks.

Outside the Foyle house.

CAPTION: SUNDAY 6th MAY 1945

Andrew (voiceover): You've got to work?

Inside. Foyle is just leaving the breakfast table.

Andrew: You're not serious. 

Foyle: Well, it's not exactly how I'd choose to spend my Sunday. 

Andrew: Who's been m*rder this time? 

Foyle: A man called Ziegler. Doctor Ziegler. 

Andrew: German? 

Foyle heads out into the hall to get his hat and coat.

Foyle: Austrian. But as English as you and me. 

Andrew: So who k*lled him? 

Foyle: Well, don't ask me, I've no idea. What are you gonna do while I'm gone? 

Andrew: Oh, I don't know. Not much, I don't think. 

He laughs.

Andrew: Poor Dad! It could only happen to you! 

Foyle goes back to the breakfast table to grab a slice of toast.

Foyle: What do you mean? 

Andrew: The whole country preparing for a giant knees-up, and once again you're stuck with the body in the library. 

Foyle: It was in the museum. 

He leaves.

Police station. Foyle walks in to the reception area.

Brooke (offscreen): That's it, just to the left a bit. Perfect. 

Brooke is just finishing setting up all the flags and bunting from the spiv's stall around the front desk.

Foyle: Well, that's, er, very colourful. 

Brooke: They were an absolute steal, sir. They're just getting ready for the big announcement. 

Foyle: Uh-huh. You all right, by the way? 

Brooke: Doctor Ziegler? Yeah, he ran right into me, sir. Well, I, I ran into him. 

Foyle: Speak to you? 

Brooke: Not a word, I'm afraid, sir. It was just my luck, really. If he'd said who stuck the Kn*fe in, we could have all gone home. 

Foyle heads through into the back, passing Milner's office.

Milner (offscreen): Good morning, sir. 

Foyle: Sorry to drag you in on a Sunday. 

Milner: I knew Doctor Ziegler. 

Foyle: Did you? So did I. How did you know him? 

Milner: He'd been treating Edith. 

Foyle's office. Milner is looking through a file.

Milner: He was unmarried, no family that we know of. He'd been living in London, came down to Hastings last year. What else do we know about him? 

Foyle: Well, we know that the, er, last conversation I had with him was about him wanting to see me about something. 

Milner: Do you think that's why he was k*lled? 

Foyle: Could be. 

Milner: You don't think it was his name, do you, sir? Ziegler. I mean, there's so much anti-German feeling around, what with these pictures of Belsen, and the rest of it. 

Foyle: Well, he didn't look German, he didn't sound German. What do we know about the Kn*fe? 

Milner: Er, the k*ller took it with him. But the pathologist looked at the wound and said we're looking for something with a long, curved blade. 

There's a knock on the door.

Foyle: Yeah. 

Sam rushes in.

Sam: Is it true someone's been m*rder? 

Foyle: Perhaps. 

Sam: Oh! I'll get the car. 

She leaves.

Museum lobby. Brown leads Foyle and Milner up the stairs.

Brown: I don't know, really. Dragging me back here on a Sunday! 

Foyle: Yeah, it's so inconsiderate getting yourself m*rder on a weekend, isn't it? 

Brown: Yes, yes, all right. 

Foyle: You didn't much care for Doctor Ziegler, I seem to remember. 

Brown: I didn't have anything against him. 

Foyle: Well, not what I heard. 

Brown: Oh? 

Foyle: Germans, k*ll the lot of them, wipe them from the face of the Earth. You remember saying that? 

Brown: You're not trying to say that I put a Kn*fe in him, are you? 

Display case. There's a visible gap in the row of knives.

Foyle: Looks as if there's a Kn*fe missing here, wouldn't you say? 

Brown: Well, I don't know anything about that. 

Foyle tries the door of the display case. It opens.

Foyle: And wouldn't this normally be locked? 

Brown: Well, people are bringing stuff in and out. Someone must have forgot to lock it. 

Foyle: You were downstairs when the meeting broke up yesterday, weren't you? 

Brown: Well, I was, er, I was at the door. 

Foyle: Mm-hmm. Do you remember, by any chance, which of us came out first? 

Brown: Well, I can't be certain because I wasn't there the whole time. Er, erm... The Yank. Major Kieffer. Yes, he was the first one out. Yes, I can tell you that for sure. 

Foyle: And you'd remember that because...? 

Brown: Well, because- well, I saw him and I heard him. And, er, then I went along the corridor. Call of nature, if you must know, and then the, the next person I saw was, er... Mr Griffiths. 

Foyle: Mm-hmm. And there was a woman, as well, came out around the same time as me. You remember her? 

Brown: No, I didn't see her. No.

Milner: Were any of them carrying anything that looked suspicious when they left? 

Brown: You mean like a great big fishing Kn*fe? No, I didn't see. 

Staircase. Milner and Foyle are walking back down. 

Milner: He was k*lled on his way home with a Kn*fe taken from the museum. It seems probable that it was someone in the meeting. 

Foyle: So that's Kieffer, Longmate, Longmate's secretary... 

Milner: And Griffiths. From Ziegler's appointment book, he saw him on Friday. The notes mentioned blood pressure and stress. He was prescribed sleeping pills. 

Foyle: Really? 

Sam, Foyle and Milner drive up in front of the Griffiths house. There's an ambulance parked outside, and two men are just bringing out a covered body on stretcher.

Milner: What happened? 

Ambulance Man: It's a su1c1de. He took pills. 

Milner: Mr Griffiths? 

Ambulance Man: Yes. 

Milner: Who authorised the removal of the body? 

Ambulance Man: I've no idea, guv. But it's all cut and dried. He left a note, apparently. And, quite frankly, I've got a party to get to. No one's hanging around here. 

Foyle and Milner head into the house.

Inside. The two of them are in the sitting room with Eunice. Milner is holding the note.

Milner: And this is definitely your son's handwriting? 

Eunice: Yes, it is. 

Milner: And this was on the kitchen table when you came down this morning? 

Eunice: I've already told you. 

Milner: "It wasn't me. I wasn't responsible. I'm sorry, I can't live with this."

Foyle: This is obviously a... very great shock for you. 

He sighs.

Eunice: The w*r's over. He came through it. And then he has to do this. What's the point? 

Foyle: Wasn't responsible for what? What do you think he meant by that? 

Eunice: I don't know. He hadn't been the same since he came back. He wasn't eating. He was spending time down at the pub. He hardly said a word. 

Foyle: Since he came back from where? 

Eunice: Er, the West Country. He was with the Royal Signal Corps. He didn't tell me any more than that. 

Foyle: Name Ziegler mean anything to you? 

Eunice: That was Mark's doctor. The one who gave him the sleeping pills. The ones he took. 

Foyle: Well, once again, we're, um, very sorry. 

Eunice: Ooh, it doesn't make any difference. This bloody w*r, it's taken everything anyway. It's taken everything we ever cared about. And people have become most strange. Somebody sent him some sand. 

Milner: Some sand? 

Eunice: An envelope full of sand. 

Foyle: When was that? 

Eunice: A few days ago. Friday.

Foyle: Anything else? 

Eunice: He said he was being followed. Thought someone was... watching him. I thought he was just imagining things. I told you, he hadn't been the same. But there was a picture also pinned to the door. 

Milner: A picture? A picture of what? 

Eunice: It was cut out of a magazine. It was an animal. A tiger. Well, why would someone do that? A tiger? What's it meant to mean? 

Hylton house. Janice sets the kettle on the stove as Eddie walks in.

Janice: So, did you see the doctor? 

Eddie: I turned up for the appointment. He weren't there. 

Janice: So, how are you feeling? Are you feeling better? 

Eddie: Why don't you tell me about her? 

Janice: Who? 

Eddie: That woman we met. In the street. 

Janice: I, I told you. I've never seen her before in my life. 

Eddie: That's not what she thought. 

Janice: Well, she was wrong. Look, I'm fed up of this. I've had enough of it! 

She goes to walk away and he grabs her.

Eddie: You're lying to me, Janice. I know you are! 

Janice: I never met her before! 

Eddie: You're lying! 

He slaps her across the face, and she gasps in shock.

Eddie: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. 

He puts his arms around her.

Eddie: I'm sorry. 

SSAFA. Sam is talking to a young man in uniform.

Sam: You can apply for £12's worth of civilian clothing. And don't forget your demob suit. 

Andrew walks in the room.

Sam: If you need any more information, come back any time. 

Soldier: Thank you, miss. 

He leaves.

Andrew: I already have my £12. And my demob suit. Not that I think I'll be wearing it. But I was told you also gave advice. 

Sam: When did you get back? 

Andrew: Yesterday. 

Sam: From Debden? 

Andrew: No, I've been flying again. I was in Malta. 

Sam: How are you? 

Andrew: Well, I, I need someone to talk to. 

Sam: Well, we've plenty of leaflets. 

She shows him the table of them.

Andrew: Yes. Yes, I can see. But I don't think I'd find the answer to my problem there. 

Sam: What is your problem? 

She sits down, and he sits opposite.

Andrew: Er, well, er... it's like this, you see. I was in Hastings for a while. My squadron was only a couple of miles away. And while I was there, I... sort of fell in love. Well, no sort of about it. I met this girl and the two of us walked out for a time. 

Sam: Andrew, please. 

Andrew: And then I got sent up to this training centre. And I was promoted to Squadron Leader. But I hated it there.  And the fact is, I must have been a little bit out of my mind, because I behaved like a complete cad. I broke it off with this girl. I didn't even have the nerve to tell her face to face. I wrote her a letter and told her I'd met someone else. Even though I knew the someone else wasn't a patch on her, and of course it didn't last very long. And since then, there hasn't been a day when I haven't regretted what I did... and wished I could somehow undo it and take back the hurt I know I must have caused. And that's why I'm asking your advice, you see, because... because I'm still looking for a way. 

Sam: I'm not sure there is a way, Andrew. 

Andrew: But if, if, if I saw her and told her what a fool I was, and begged her on my knees to consider? 

Sam: I don't think she's the sort of girl who would like begging. 

Andrew: Do you think she'd at least consider? 

Sam: Consider what? 

Andrew: Well, just seeing me. Spending time together, just being friends. 

Sam: Well, she'd have to look in the leaflets, see what they advise. 

He laughs.

Andrew: You don't have a leaflet about love. 

Sam: No, but I've quite a few on desertion. 

Andrew: Yes, well. Well, thank you anyway. 

He stands up.

Andrew: You know, Sam, in all this time you've hardly changed at all. 

Sam: Really? 

Andrew: But I have. 

He leaves.

Foyle house. Foyle is just leaving the house to head out to the car.

CAPTION: MONDAY 7th MAY 1945

He gets in and Sam starts driving. A pair of giggling girls run past a boy sitting on the kerb with a newspaper. The headline reads GERMANY SURRENDERS.

Majestic Hotel. Sam, Foyle, Milner pull up outside in the car. They all get out.

Sam: Sir, you know the man you're going to see? 

Foyle: Mm-hmm.

Sam: Martin Longmate. He owns the hotel, doesn't he? 

Foyle: He does. 

Sam: I think you ought to know, I, I applied for a job with him to be his personal assistant. 

Foyle: Did you? Did you get it? 

Sam: I don't think so. 

Foyle: Well, maybe best not to accept it anyway, not just yet. Thank you. 

He and Milner head into the hotel.

Hotel lounge. Kieffer walks in and spots Foyle and Milner.

Kieffer: Well, well, well! Come to say goodbye? 

Foyle: You're leaving? 

Kieffer: That's right. I got my 85 points. That earns me a ticket on the good ship Aquitania heading for New York. 

Foyle: I'm not sure that's gonna be possible. 

Kieffer: And why's that? 

Foyle: Well, you probably know about Ziegler. 

Kieffer: Sure. But you're not gonna tell me I had anything to do with that, right? I mean, I hardly even knew the man. 

Foyle: You may not know about Griffiths. 

Kieffer: What about him? 

Foyle: He's d*ad. 

Kieffer: d*ad? 

Foyle: Sit down. 

They all take seats..

Kieffer: Since when? 

Foyle: Saturday night. 

Kieffer: How? 

Foyle: An overdose. 

Kieffer: Well, why would he do that? 

Foyle: Well, I thought you might be able to tell me. 

Kieffer: I can't tell you anything. But maybe it's pretty obvious. Ziegler and Griffiths, they died on the same day, right? So maybe Griffiths k*lled Ziegler. I don't know why. You can find that out. He k*lled him, then he regretted it and he took his own life. 

Foyle: He left a note. 

Kieffer: Yeah? 

Foyle: "It wasn't me, I wasn't responsible." That's all it said. 

Kieffer: Well, there you are, it's a confession. 

Foyle: How well did you know him? 

Kieffer: I never met him before in my life. 

Foyle: Well, for a man you never met, er, he seemed to have quite an effect on you. 

Kieffer: He was the boring head of a boring committee, I think we all felt the same. 

Foyle: And how did you get to be on that committee? 

Kieffer: As a matter of fact, I volunteered. I was k*lling time. 

Foyle: After you'd finished in Devon? 

Kieffer: Yeah. 

Foyle: And that is it you were doing in Devon? 

Kieffer: What is this, the third degree? 

He stands up.

Kieffer: Look, Christopher, I'd like to help you, I really would, but you know I can't. 

The others stand up too.

Foyle: And I can't let you leave. You know that. 

Kieffer: You think you can stop me? I have a wife. I have two sons that I haven't seen in over three years. 

Foyle: I'm sorry. 

Kieffer: I thought we were friends, Christopher. 

Foyle: Well, so did I. 

A woman approaches them.

Woman: Mr Longmate is ready to see you now. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

Longmate's office.

Longmate: I have to say, this is a terrible business. Almost unbelievable. 

He heads round to his desk, passing Janice Hylton who stands nearby.

Longmate: A m*rder, now of all times! 

Foyle and Milner are bot there. Longmate sits down and sighs.

Longmate: Well, have you made any progress? 

Foyle: Er, perhaps. Erm, just a couple of things, if you don't mind. 

Janice looks at Longmate, and he gives her a nod.

Janice: Excuse me. 

She goes to leave.

Longmate: Well, anything I can do to help. 

Foyle: You first met Doctor Ziegler when? 

Longmate: The same time as you, at the, er, committee. 

Foyle: You were never a patient of his, then? 

Longmate: No. 

Foyle: Mm-hmm. Er, what's the matter with your eyes, if you don't mind me asking? 

Longmate: I beg your pardon? 

Foyle: I remember you telling Doctor Ziegler your eyesight was the, er, reason you were exempt from the armed forces. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but, er, you're not wearing glasses and, er, you didn't seem to have a problem reading at the meeting. 

Longmate: Well, er... I might as well come clean. Actually, er, I lied. The real reason why I was exempted was angina. I have a heart condition. 

Foyle: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. 

Longmate: And I want to go into politics, Mr Foyle. Do you think the people of Hastings would vote for someone with a weak heart? 

Foyle: You feel they'd sooner vote for someone who lies? 

Longmate: Oh, I think you're being a little harsh. The next election may be tougher than anyone thinks. I just don't want to give my political opponents any amm*nit*on, that's all.

He stands up.

Longmate: Look, I'm well enough to stand for parliament, I know I am. I want to serve my country, Mr Foyle. That may sound hopelessly old-fashioned, but I'm not gonna let this chance pass me by. 

Lounge. Foyle and Milner are just leaving.

Milner: Sir, did you notice the woman leaving his office just then? 

Foyle: His assistant. 

Milner: Mmm. I met her a few days ago with Edith. They were both patients of Doctor Ziegler. 

Foyle: Oh. Know what he was treating her for? 

Milner: No, but I have a pretty good idea. 

Foyle's office. Sam and Milner are both in the room with Foyle.

Sam: Well, it's got to be one of them. Major Kieffer or Martin Longmate. They were both in the room. Or it could have been that curator chap, I suppose. 

Milner: Michael Brown. 

Foyle: Could have been me. 

Sam: Didn't like to mention it, sir. 

Foyle: What did you find out about, um, Griffiths' military service? 

Milner: Nothing, sir. It's all definitely hush-hush. I made a few calls, but it's a brick wall. But he was in the West Country. 

Foyle: As was Kieffer. Has your letter arrived, by the way? 

Milner: My promotion? 

Foyle: Mm-hmm. 

Milner: No, sir. Still no news. 

Sam: Can't you give them a call, sir? Chivvy them on a bit. 

Foyle: No, it'll come. 

Milner: Er, with your permission, I'd like to talk to Mrs Hylton while you're away. 

Foyle: Certainly. 

Sam: Where are you going, sir? 

Foyle: London. You're about to run me to the station. 

Sam: Can I ask why you're going to London, sir? 

Foyle: Course you can. 

He walks out.

London. Foyle walks along a street, and then through a park. Hilda Pierce stands waiting to meet him.

Foyle: Miss Pierce? 

Pierce: Mr Foyle. I was very surprised to be getting your call. 

Foyle: Well, I was very surprised to be making it, quite honestly. 

She laughs.

Pierce: How's Hastings? 

The two of them walk on together.

Foyle: Much the same as here, I'd imagine. We're just waiting. 

Pierce: The end of the w*r. I understand Churchill and Stalin are negotiating the exact moment to announce it. Meanwhile, I can reliably inform you that you can expect an announcement on the wireless this evening. 

They both sit down on a bench.

Foyle: What, that it's over? 

Pierce: No. The Ministry of Information is going to announce that there'll be an announcement tomorrow. In other words, the announcement of the announcement. Good to see the spirit of Colonel Blimp is still alive and well. You said you wanted my help. That makes a pleasant change. 

Foyle: Well, since you've been so very, er, unhelpful on two separate occasions during the course of the w*r so far, I thought I'd give you the opportunity to make up for it. 

Pierce: Point taken. 

Foyle: I just need some information. 

Pierce: Go on. 

Foyle: Sometime last year, maybe this, in the west of England, Devon perhaps, something happened. A naval operation involving the Americans on a beach, maybe. 

Pierce: Can you be a little more specific? 

Foyle: Well, no. I just have one name. Griffiths. Mark Griffiths, Royal Signals. 

Pierce: You've made inquiries? 

Foyle: Nobody will talk to me. 

Pierce: What makes you think they'll talk to me? 

He gives her a look. She sighs.

Pierce: I'll need a couple of hours. 

They both stand up.

Foyle: All right. 

Pierce: Er... Where will you be? 

Foyle: Wherever you like. 

Pierce: How about Whitehall? Kingly Street should be quiet enough. You've seen. There are crowds everywhere. All waiting for the end. Everyone's out there celebrating, and here are you and I, still stuck in the shadows. 

Foyle: Well, I thought you liked the shadows. 

Pierce: Five o'clock. Good to see you again. 

They walk off in different directions.

Hylton house. Milner walks up to the house.

Inside. Janice opens the door.

Milner: Mrs Hylton? 

Janice: Yes. 

Milner: Sergeant Milner, Hastings Police. I've come about Doctor Ziegler. 

Janice: Well, you'd better come in. 

Milner: Thank you. 

They walk through into the dining room and sit at the table.

Milner: Are you on your own? 

Janice: No, my husband Eddie's upstairs, asleep. 

Milner: Demobbed? 

Janice: Yeah, he was in Italy. 

Milner: You don't remember meeting me, do you? 

Janice: No. 

Milner: I was with my wife, Edith. She's pregnant. 

Janice looks over her shoulder nervously.

Milner: Your husband doesn't need to know anything about this, but I do. 

Janice: Please. 

Milner: When you met my wife at Doctor Ziegler's surgery, you were heavily pregnant. Where is the baby? 

Janice: She's with my mother. 

Milner: And your husband has no idea? 

Janice: Oh, he suspects. He knows something's not right, but... I do love him. But he's been away for four years. I was on my own. I wish it hadn't happened, but it did. And now he's back, and I've been tearing myself apart. I can't tell him, he'd k*ll me. 

Milner: But Doctor Ziegler knew. 

Janice: I was terrified he'd tell Eddie about me, about me and the baby. 

Milner: Is that why you went to the museum? To see him? 

Janice: No. I went to see Martin. Mr Longmate. He's the father. 

Milner: Right. 

Janice: We didn't mean for it to happen. He was on his own, too. His wife had died in a b*mb raid. I felt sorry for him, and... one night we were working late... 

Milner: Does he know the baby's his? 

She nods.

Janice: He wanted to get rid of it. But I couldn't do that. So then he said he knew people. Said he could arrange for it to be adopted. And that's what we were gonna do. 

Milner: But then your husband came home. 

Janice: I've been so scared. I don't want to lose him, I couldn't bear that. If he finds out... Eddie mentioned he was seeing Doctor Ziegler. I panicked. I had to talk to someone, and I thought Martin would know what to do. So I went to the museum. But it was too late. 

Milner: You didn't see Mr Longmate? 

Janice: No. He'd already gone. 

Milner: That's all I need to know. 

He stands up.

Janice: Will you be coming back? 

Milner: Er, no. I have everything. I'll see myself out. 

He leaves. A moment later, Eddie walks out from the door behind Janice.

Eddie: I heard. Everything. 

As Janice cries, he comes over and kneels by her, clasping her hand.

London. Foyle walks along a busy street. Pierce crosses the road to join him, carrying some paperwork.

Pierce: You like to inhabit dangerous territory, Mr Foyle. 

Foyle: Well, not by choice. 

Pierce: Well, this time, even you should tread carefully. I've stuck my neck out for you, and I have to say, I felt a very cold breeze indeed. Operation Tiger, does that mean anything to you? 

Foyle: Might. 

Pierce: Slapton Sands in Devon. 

Foyle: What happened there? 

Pierce: Nothing happened there. That's the official verdict, and that's how the way it shall remain for many years to come. 

Foyle: Unofficially? 

Pierce: You never spoke to me, I never gave you this, and it would be better if nobody ever found out you knew anything about it. 

Foyle: All right. 

Pierce: Just remember, a w*r always hides a great many dirty secrets. This has been a long w*r... 

She hands him an envelope.

Pierce: And this secret's very dirty indeed.

They walk off in opposite directions, Foyle tucking the envelope into his pocket.

Police station reception area. Milner and Foyle walk in together.

Milner: He wanted her to get rid of it, but she refused, so he was going to get it adopted. It turns out Martin Longmate's not as straightforward as he seems. 

Foyle: Was he ever? 

Heading into the back, they pass Brooke and a group of other officers laughing together.

Foyle: Sergeant. 

Brooke looks round. He's holding a newspaper with the headline.

Foyle: What's going on? 

Brooke: Oh, nothing, sir. It's, er, in the... It's just, er, that cartoon, sir. You probably don't read it. Jane. 

Foyle: Jane, right. Not a stitch on today, I see. You'd probably noticed that. 

Brooke: Yes, sir. The lads and I were just commenting on it. 

He opens the paper to the Jane comic strip.

Brooke: I suppose it's, er, to mark the end of the w*r. 

Foyle: Well, not a moment too soon, if that's anything to go by. 

Brooke: Right, sir. Er, we're just off to Wilder Road, take a peek at the new HQ. 

Foyle: I should. 

As the group leave and Foyle and Milner continue into the back, Edith Milner comes hurrying, holding out an envelope.

Edith: Paul! It's here. 

Milner takes the envelope and looks at it for a moment.

Foyle: I should open it. 

Milner opens the envelope and reads the letter. He looks over at Foyle, then at Edith, nodding.

Milner: I've got it. 

Edith: Darling! 

He laughs as they embrace. Foyle smiles and turns to head into his office, but then Milner straightens up.

Milner: Sir. Thank you. 

Foyle: Congratulations. 

Edith: Ooh! 

She clutches her middle.

Milner: Edith? 

Edith: Oh, I came here at such a pace, I... Paul, I think it's coming! 

Milner: Er... chair. 

He goes to grab one from the nearest room. Foyle turns to the officer behind the desk.

Foyle: Get Brooke back, will you? 

He nods and hurries away. Milner brings the chair over for Edith and she sits down.

Foyle: What's the, erm, hospital number? 

Edith groans in pain.

Milner: Er, 383. Where's Sam? 

Foyle goes over to the phone and dials.

Foyle: She's, um, with the Servicemen's Association this morning. 

Edith: Oh, I'm sorry, Paul. 

Milner: Don't worry. 

Edith: Ooh!

Foyle sighs. The desk officer returns.

Desk Officer: Missed him, sir. 

Foyle: Never mind. Thank you. Damn.

He cancels the call and dials again. Edith's still groaning. Milner looks up at Foyle. Foyle hangs up the phone, nods to him, and goes over to the wall cupboard where the car keys are kept. He takes one from its hook and shuts the cupboard again.

Car. Milner and Edith are in the back together. 

Milner: All right?

Edith breathes and groans in pain.

Milner: That's it. We're nearly there. 

In the front, it's revealed to be Foyle who's driving.

Milner (offscreen): Nearly there.

They pull up outside the hospital and Foyle and Milner get out. One of the nurses hurries over as Milner helps Edith out. The two of them lead her towards the hospital building.

Milner: Thank you, sir. 

Foyle: Good luck. 

He gets back in the car and drives away.

Majestic Hotel.

CAPTION: TUESDAY 8th MAY 1945

Hotel lounge. Foyle slaps the envelope Pierce gave him down on the table in front of Kieffer.

Foyle: I think it's time you explained. 

Kieffer: If it's all in there, what else do you want to know? 

Foyle: I want to hear it from your point of view. I wasn't there. 

Kieffer: It was a training exercise at Slapton Sands, for the landings at Utah Beach. Operation Tiger. A year ago, April 28. 

Recorded footage of amphibious trucks.

Kieffer (voiceover): I'd been transferred to the amphibious truck company, working on floating harbours and LSTs. Landing ships, t*nk, that kind of stuff. 

Cut back to the hotel lounge.

Kieffer: I was billeted with the 4th Infantry division. I got to know a lot of the boys. 

Footage of American troops.

Kieffer (voiceover): That's what most of them were. Just kids. A few years older than my own. 

Cut back to the hotel lounge.

Kieffer: Anyway, you know, one night, right in the middle of an exercise... nine German E-boats came out of nowhere.  And there was a whole fleet of LSTs, just sitting there, right in front of them. So they opened f*re. 749 of our soldiers and sailors k*lled. It was all hushed up. They had to think about morale. So why did nobody warn the kids on the LSTs that the Germans were on their way? Well, I'll tell you. They did. 

Flashback to someone tapping out a message in Morse code.

Kieffer (voiceover): But it turned out there'd been a typing mistake. 

A man speaks into a microphone and turns radio dials.

Kieffer (voiceover): Someone had sent out the wrong radio frequency. 

Cut back to the hotel lounge.

Kieffer: Just a couple of misplaced numbers, that's all. So no one on the LSTs heard anything, and all those people died. 

Foyle: And that was Griffiths. 

Kieffer: Took me a year to find out. Talking to the right people. Asking a lot of questions about something that wasn't supposed to have happened. But he was the one responsible. Griffiths was a major with the Royal Signals Corps, Allied Liaison. 

Foyle: He did the right thing, then, k*lling himself. 

Kieffer: No! You don't understand. I see those kids. Every night, I see them. I can't get them out of my head. 

Flashback to the bodies floating in the water.

Cut back to the hotel lounge.

Kieffer: I just wanted him to accept responsibility, that's all. I thought if he did that, then maybe I could make sense of it. 

Foyle: Well, the fact is nobody knows what happened. The radio frequencies were changed, the Germans noticed an increase in radio traffic. While the corvettes didn't show up, the LSTs were in the wrong formation, so whatever you may think, it wasn't one man's mistake. 

Kieffer: Griffiths was in charge, and at the end of it, they just shipped him out, they got rid of him. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of it. He just ran out. 

Foyle: And it was really worth hounding him to death? 

Kieffer: I didn't want him to die. That wasn't the idea, I swear to it. I don't know what I wanted. I should never have come. 

Foyle: Well, it's a bit late for that. 

Kieffer: So now what? 

Foyle: From the law's point of view, there's not a case against you that would stand up in a court. So you're free to go. 

Kieffer: So that's it, then? 

Foyle: I think so, don't you? 

He stands up to leave.

Kieffer: Funny thing about w*r, Christopher. People change. Or are you the only one who remained above it all? 

Foyle leaves. Kieffer covers his face with his hand.

Beach. Sam and Andrew are walking back towards the car.

Later. They sit side by side in the parked car.

Andrew: So what are you gonna do with yourself, Sam? 

Sam: After the w*r? I don't even want to think about it. But it looks as if advertising and politics are out. How about you? 

Andrew: I don't know. 

Sam: Will you stay in Hastings? 

Andrew: Mmm, I suppose so. I'll go fishing with Dad, and we'll spend some time together. I haven't really got anywhere else to go. 

Sam: Well, will you fly again? 

Andrew: Well, my eyesight is more or less sh*t to pieces with the sinusitis, so, no. I think that's finished. 

Sam: Well, you'll have to go into business, then. Or maybe you can join the police. 

Andrew: Mmm. Then you can be my driver. 

Sam: I don't think so! 

He chuckles.

Andrew: That's the worst of it, Sam. This feeling I have that maybe the best of my life is over. Flying the dawn patrol. The friends I made. Even the ones I lost. How can I work in an office? Travel in and out on the 37 bus, after what I've been through? How can any of us? 

Sam: Maybe you could write. You used to write reams of poetry. 

Andrew: Well, I, I used to scribble a bit, I suppose. 

Sam: What was that poem you told me? 

Andrew: Oh, I don't remember. 

Sam: Oh, please, Andrew. 

Andrew: Well, actually, I wrote one quite recently, just before I left Malta. 

Sam: Go on. 

Andrew: I don't know if it was any good or not, but it's called "All Clear". They've sounded out the last all clear And told us, those who made it here. That very soon we'll hold once more Those things that we held dear. Yet nothing's clear to me. I gaze from darkness to a summer haze. And though they part, the clouds of w*r lead only to uncertain days. 

Sam: Do you really think that? I think that's very sad. 

He groans.

Andrew: Sam, I'm sorry. I- I've got to watch out for myself. I'm beginning to sound like an old man. 

Sam: Well, you don't look like one. 

Andrew: Sam, why don't we get married? 

Sam: What? 

She laughs.

Andrew: I mean it. You don't know what you're going to do, I don't know what I'm going to do. Surely it makes sense to not know what we're going to do together?

Sam: Is that why you invited me down here? 

Andrew: Don't get angry with me. 

Sam: I said I'd be your friend. I said I'd see you again, but that's all. It's unfair to ask for more. Especially in so unromantic a fashion. 

Andrew: All right. But I might as well tell you, I'm gonna work on you, Sam. Until one day you'll change your mind about me, and forgive me for being such a bloody fool. And you will marry me. 

Sam: Oh, yes? 

Andrew: If only because you'd secretly love to have my dad as your father-in-law. 

She laughs.

Sam: Hmm.

Andrew: Let's drive back and get a pint. 

Sam: All right. 

They drive away.

Majestic Hotel. Longmate approaches the receptionist at the front desk.

Longmate: Everything all right? 

She turns the guestbook around for him to sign out. Foyle walks in behind him.

Foyle: Mr Longmate. Could I have a word? 

Longmate: Er, of course. Shall we use my office? 

Foyle: Probably wise. 

Longmate: Please, follow me. 

Longmate's office. He leads Foyle inside.

Longmate: Is this, er, about Doctor Ziegler? 

Foyle: Who else? 

Longmate: Well, please, sit down. 

Foyle: Er, no, I won't stay longer than I have to. Erm, perhaps you should. 

Longmate: Should I? 

Foyle: With a heart condition like yours, you can't be too careful. 

Longmate: That's very considerate, but, um, I'll be fine, thank you. 

He pats his chest.

Longmate: How can I help you? 

Foyle: Well, we hoped you might help with whatever you can remember about your, er, military service medical. 

Longmate: It was a long time ago, Mr Foyle, and, um, can't see why you'd be interested. 

Foyle: Some confusion about the details, apparently. Er, might you remember where it took place, for example? 

Longmate: Er... London, though, um, precisely where I would be less sure about. 

Foyle: Mm-hmm. Examining doctor, perhaps? 

Longmate: Afraid not. 

Foyle: I see. 

Longmate: Though there's probably a record of it somewhere, if you think it's important. 

Foyle: Well, there's, um, there's a record of it in my pocket.

He takes it out and unfolds it.

Foyle: Er, a doctor's letter recording, er, an appointment for Martin Longmate, April 23rd, 1941 at a surgery in London, Hampstead, with signed confirmation of angina and exemption from active service. Would this be your appointment? 

Longmate: You'll forgive me pointing out, Mr Foyle, but if you have the information, I fail to see why you're questioning me regarding it. And why on Earth you consider there to be a problem. 

Foyle: Well, certainly not a problem for me. It just looks as if it might be for you. Erm, it's a question of the, er, signature here of the examining doctor.

Longmate: What, you're saying it's not genuine? 

Foyle: Er, no, far from it. I'm saying it's, er, Doctor Ziegler's. 

He holds the letter out to Longmate.

Ziegler (voiceover): Longmate. 

Flashback to him and Longmate at the committee meeting.

Ziegler: We've met, I think. 

Longmate: No, I don't think so. 

Ziegler: Martin Longmate. I feel sure I know the name. 

Longmate's office.

Foyle: So why say you hadn't met? 

Longmate: It was four years ago, for God's sake. I do meet a lot of people. 

Foyle: They all give you medicals? No, a very good reason, perhaps, is because you never had. Because the Martin Longmate he examined wasn't you, was it? 

Longmate: You don't know what you're talking about. 

Foyle: He examined the man you paid £150 to take your place, who does have angina, and who had a very nice line in, er, acquiring exemption certificates for those interested in avoiding military service, until his arrest the other day. He sends his regards. 

Longmate is silent for a moment, then goes over to sit down behind his desk.

Longmate: It was actually, er, £200. 

Foyle: Was it? Ah. We'll remind him. Thank you. Life, eh? Almost the end of the w*r and you run into the very last person in England you want to see. 

Longmate: I panicked. When he asked me about my exemption, I told him it was my eyesight because if I'd said angina, he might have put two and two together. There was too much to lose, my political ambitions, my business. And then when I heard him asking to speak to you... 

Flashback to the committee meeting.

Ziegler: Er, actually, Mr Foyle, there was one thing I wanted to talk to you about. 

Foyle: Yeah? 

Ziegler: Um, it's a private matter.

Longmate stands listening in form the open door.

Ziegler: I wonder if I might call in at the police station. Are you there this afternoon? 

Foyle: I am. Any time you like. 

Flashback to Longmate taking the Kn*fe from the display case.

Longmate (voiceover): All I could think of was getting rid of Ziegler before he could talk to you.

Flashback to Longmate coming up behind Ziegler in the back street.

Longmate (voiceover): And that's exactly what I did.

He overtakes him and steps into his path, smiling, then s*ab him in the gut. Ziegler groans in pain and collapses against the wall.

Cut back to Longmate's office.

Longmate: What gave me away? 

Foyle: You were the first to leave the committee room, but Kieffer was the first out of the building, according to the doorman. 

Longmate: Ah. 

Foyle: And all so unnecessary and unfortunate. 

Longmate: What do you mean? 

Foyle: Because all Ziegler wanted to speak to me about was Griffiths, who was in a very bad state. Ziegler was concerned. And unfortunate, because, er, having evaded the draft, m*rder a member of the medical profession, tried to avoid detection to feather your own nest, I'd have said you were a born politician. But, the law being what it is, hanging is perhaps the very best way you can serve your country. 

He leaves the office.

Police station front desk. Sergeant Brooke is pouring out champagne for the other uniformed officers.

Brooke: Make the most, lads. It's the bona fide French champagne. 

He turns round to where Sam and Milner stand behind him, and pours some out for Sam.

Brooke: Well, congratulations, Mr Milner. 

One of the uniformed officers turns the radio on, playing low music. Foyle comes out from the back.

Brooke: Just celebrating the new arrival, sir. Hope you don't mind. 

Foyle: Well, of course not. Boy or a girl? 

Milner: A girl, sir. Thank heavens. 

Sam: Goodbye to Winston Milner. 

Milner: But she wants to call her Clementine. Er, Mrs Churchill. 

Foyle is watching Brooke pour out the drinks.

Foyle: Where's this come from? 

Brooke: It's from the evidence room, sir. Somehow the label came adrift and, er, sadly, we couldn't place it. 

Foyle: Oh, yeah?  Well, congratulations. 

He clinks glasses with Milner.

Brooke: Cheers. 

Sam: Congratulations. 

Brooke: Cheers. 

Radio: This is London.

The policeman standing by the radio turns it up.

Policeman: Sir! 

Sam: Cheers. 

Radio: The Prime Minister, The Right Honourable Winston Churchill.

They all stand and listen.

Churchill (radio): Yesterday morning, at 2:41am at General Eisenhower's headquarters, General Jodl, the representative of the German High Command, and our Grand Admiral Dönitz, the designated head of the German state, signed the act of unconditional surrender of all German land, sea and air forces in Europe to the Allied Expeditionary Force.

Sam: It's over. I can't believe it. 

Milner: Sir, I'd better get back to Edith and, er... Clementine. 

Foyle: Of course. 

He shakes Milner's hand.

Foyle: Good luck. 

Milner: Thank you, sir. 

Brooke: And, erm if you don't mind, sir, I promised the lads that they could join in the celebrations. It seems only right. 

Foyle: Absolutely. Go ahead. 

Brooke: Cheers, sir. Enjoy the champers. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

Brooke: Come on, lads. 

They all head out, leaving Sam and Foyle behind. Sam clears her throat.

Sam: They said you drove Milner and his wife to the hospital, sir. 

Foyle: I did. 

Sam: But I thought you couldn't drive. Are you telling me that all these years- 

Foyle: Well, I've never actually ever at any time said I couldn't drive, I mean, I just preferred not to. 

Sam: So you never really needed me? 

Foyle: I wouldn't say that. 

Andrew comes in and comes over to the desk.

Andrew: All hell's breaking loose outside. You ought to come and join us. 

Sam: I will. I'm going to dance all night. 

Andrew: Will you dance with me? 

Sam: I'll dance with anybody. But especially you. 

Andrew: You coming, Dad? 

Foyle: No, I'll catch you up. You go on. 

Andrew: All right. 

Sam: Are you sure? We'll never find you. 

Foyle: I'll make sure you do. Off you go. 

He heads into the back.

Sam: Andrew?

She holds the door for him and he follows her out.

Beach. Kieffer stands looking out to sea for a while, then finally turns and heads back.

Foyle's office. Foyle walks into the room, now cleared of all the furniture, to collect his coat and hat. As he puts his coat on he looks around the empty space for a moment, then he puts his hat on and leaves. He walks out through the deserted reception area and leaves the station.
{"type": "series", "show": "Foyle's War", "episode": "06x03 - All Clear"}