Lacey Tur ner ’s likeable presence makes Molly more than a cliché

Dawes more than a cliché.

You believe that she has the objectivity to look at her life and see it settling into a pattern: like her mother’s, pregnant with her umpteenth child, living with kids and snarling husband in a small flat (Kerry Godliman, fresh from

Derek, but more real here); like her mates, whose ambitions stretch as far as sneaking drink into a club. Molly is not that different from Stacey Slater, but that shop she vomits outside is an army recruitment centre. It gives her an idea.

Rookie goes through training is an old story – even the female version has been told in war, where things – at least from this distance – seem simpler. Foyle’s War writer Anthony Horowitz could be forgiven for feeling aggrieved: being told a few years ago that cancellation was near, he skipped overly briskly through 1943 and ‘44 so that his hero could see VE Day. Now that the show has been revived due to public demand (and ITV desperation for a reliable ratings draw), he’s had to construct a plausible structure for his hero in the post-war years – although surely DCS Foyle must be due for retirement by now.

Last seen heading to the US to catch the one that got away, Foyle returns to be immediately drafted by the security services, who helpfully explain: “We have a new war now, a new enemy – George Orwell calls it the Cold War.”

What’s that got to do with him? Well, it turns out that his erstwhile driver, Sam, is now suspected of being a traitor, which we all know cannot be true as she is the very definition of a jolly good egg. So he must clear her name, in the face of snooty spy people who say things like: “This isn’t a case of bodies in the library or stolen petrol coupons or whatever