“It was that morning. It was a stranger I met online.” Oh dear. This is going to be a right old mess. “See now I’m thinking, what else isn’t Trish telling us?” You and the rest of us, Hardy. Where is this going? Who can tell. But it’s bloody good.
This was a gripping outing which moved things along furtively in the cat-and-mouse tradition so beloved of Broadchurch. Below the line here there has already been speculation about “swinging” and this episode didn’t debunk that theory nor confirm it either. Bearing in mind the pace at which Broadchurch moves, ramping up the suspense at every turn, we may have to wait a long time to find out exactly what sort of birthday party it was.
Jim, the husband of the birthday friend, is the most obvious (too obvious) suspect so far; first the giant supply of condoms, now the access to fishing twine as a failed amateur angler. “Why did you have a fight with Ed Burnett?” (AKA Lenny Henry, the shop owner, Trish’s boss.) “The way he runs the shop, shift patterns, the refugee crisis. He’s a knob.” I love the idea that people in Broadchurch have been discussing the refugee crisis. Jim Atwood’s face-radiating-evil was nothing, though, next to the guilt-signalling coming from Trish’s ex-husband. That man is guilty of something, even if it’s only growing a dodgy beard.
At times I felt a tinge of annoyance at the “public service broadcast” feel to some scenes, but that ebbed away with the ending. Yes, we get the message: the police are responsible about treating sexual violence cases nowadays. “Sexual offences never get the same resources as murder.” “These crimes make you feel like your control has been taken away ...”
But police sensitivity is an important element of the narrative because of the interesting tension developing between Hardy, who wants a swift resolution, and Miller, who wants to protect Trish. Bearing in mind their previous history as colleagues, this is even more important: Miller has got it very badly wrong before. (Massive understatement.) No wonder Hardy feels like the case is his alone to crack.
I flinched slightly during Beth’s first meeting with Trish. Would the rape support worker really meet someone in such a public space, talking loudly about rape trauma syndrome? This made no sense next to the investigations where no one is supposed to talk about anything and it’s all very discreet. Perhaps this is accurate and they are meant to meet on neutral territory – but it should have been signalled to us so it didn’t feel odd.
Meanwhile, to make sure we don’t find the attacker before episode eight, the subplots are proliferating. Will the Latimers get back together? What will Mark Latimer do with his vengeful anger? Will the local paper close down? What’s going on with Hardy’s daughter? Is the priest going to look for another parish? Whatever happened to Miller’s mum’s vibrator? It will all be revealed slowly and painstakingly, while casting suspicion on many unrelated persons. Such is the Broadchurch way – and isn’t it a great way? (One aside: I still don’t understand what Trish did all of Sunday and most of Monday. And why was she found in the place where she was found?)
Miller v Hardy: the score so far
This pair is one of the finest police duos, not unlike Cagney and Lacey in their prime. Some great one-liners pass between the two, and there is so much fondness but also thinly veiled annoyance. Hardy lost it this episode and got impatient. “We’d like you to come in at 4pm today for your ABE interview.” (I looked it up for you, guys: Achieving Best Evidence. You’re welcome.) Oh, the horror on Miller and Beth’s faces! “It’s easy being you, Miller. I’m the one being responsible.” I predict that this issue – “We should have moved slower/faster” – will cause some kind of unravelling, whether it’s connected to the case or to the relationship between the two of them. Blame will be apportioned. And there’s surely more to come on Hardy’s daughter. “I messed up. How do you do it, Miller, the whole parent thing?” Meanwhile Miller kept her cool and did an excellent job of looking violently mistrustful of every single person who crossed her path, regardless of whether they were connected to the case or not – as well you might given her previous spousal experience. Hardy 0. Miller 2.
Not the usual suspects
The suspects are piling up. The best friend’s husband with the condoms. The ex-husband who doesn’t want the police collecting his bio-data (an excellent and surprising turn from Charlie Higson). The taxi driver. Lenny Henry. And who has got hold of a new phone number (one that isn’t in Trish’s phone) to send her a text that says, “Shut up or else”? Even Mark Latimer isn’t above suspicion: we’re being made to think he’s in such a weird state of mind he could do anything. This is what is great and awful and manipulative about Broadchurch. It makes you suspect everyone.
At one point I suddenly found myself very interested in fishing twine, owing to the physical attributes of the owner of the fishing twine emporium. Then was put off by the girlie pictures, as was Miller when she clocked Suspect No 587. “I was out with my girlfriend, had a few drinks at The Anglers. Kebab on the way home.” “Ah, romantic.” Is it really necessary to frame every single person? (Obviously we will forget I said this if the fishing twine emporium heir turns out to be the rapist.)
Life lesson
If there has been a sexual attack in the local area, think about removing the Pirelli calendar from your office, otherwise it’ll be off to DNA testing for you.
Trademark Wessex words of wisdom
“I am never in the mood for swaggery young shits.” “She said it was a whisk and don’t tell Dad.” Miller was on top form this episode.
“If you look at the map, it’s actually a hamlet not a village.” I love DC Harford’s un-PC, antagonistic remarks. “Was she drunk?” She is the voice of the audience’s thoughts – and it turns out she’s Lenny Henry’s daughter! This is going to be fun.
“If you’ve totally got the authority to make decisions, totally cooperate with us or we’ll totally come back with a warrant.” Hardy gets down with the kids and couldn’t be more sarcastic if he tried.
“Brief Beth. She needs to get Trish in a fit state.” If she isn’t too distracted by thinking about how your husband effectively murdered her son.
