It took seven years for Happy Valley’s majestic third and final act to reach our screens, but it turned out to be well worth the wait. There are few, if any, crime series like it: it was funny, blunt, tender, terrifying and so gripping that for six weeks, it revived the idea that television audiences might still watch a drama together, all at once, at the same time, because watching it together made it even more thrilling and even more tense. This is likely the last we will have seen of Catherine Cawood, which is bittersweet – though I’m holding out for an Indiana Jones-style caper in the Himalayas. But what a way to end it.

After three series, the dance to the death between Sgt Cawood (Sarah Lancashire in the performance of her career, which is saying something) and Tommy Lee Royce (James Norton), the man who raped her daughter, finally reached its conclusion. Perhaps there was some trepidation. Fewer and fewer shows manage to deliver endings that live up to what viewers can imagine in their own minds, and TV is littered with disappointments, particularly when anticipation is so high. In the run-up to the final episode, viewers came up with plenty of ideas about how it might end. Who would betray whom? Would Ryan prove to be more like Catherine or more like his father? How would Catherine and Tommy extricate themselves from each other’s lives for good?

In the end, the series confounded some of the more extreme theories. No aliens came to Calderdale, Ryan didn’t kill his father, Clare didn’t end up sacrificing herself. It was showy, but just enough: it climaxed with a sit-down at the kitchen table, which severed Catherine and Tommy’s connection with words. Of course there was a final flare-up of action, but it is a sure sign of just how next-level the writing and performances were that the violence of the denouement was not the focal point. “We’ve had another bit of a tussle,” said Catherine afterwards, with typical understatement. “I won, obviously.”

There were other storylines to wrap up, which were handled neatly, and justice was served (or was about to be). As well as dispensing with the “twat-faced bastard”/“wankatron” for good, the rest of Happy Valley’s villains got their dues. Hepworth, the bully of a teacher who had been abusing his wife, was picked up for possession of indecent images. Faisal the pharmacist looked set to be caught for the murder of his neighbour, Hepworth’s wife, Joanna. And the Knezevics’ organised crime ring appeared to be on the verge of crumbling. Good triumphed over evil. After all these years, I think we deserved it.

There was plenty of high drama along the way. After swapping his Jesus look for the practical fabrics of an Outward Bound instructor, Tommy made an escape from custody which was breathlessly exciting. But Happy Valley really excelled in its quieter moments. Catherine’s relationship with Ryan was fraught, complicated by what she knew about Tommy Lee Royce and her efforts to protect Ryan from that knowledge, but a simple mention of whether a portion of stew would go cold or not was massive in its emotional range. Ryan telling her that he loved her, and her replying “What’s brought that on?”, was beautiful and real. Like the writing, the performances were flawless throughout.

Typically, the highlight came not in the main showdown but in an earlier face-off. In the second episode, Catherine followed Clare (Siobhan Finneran) on what was supposed to be a trip to Leeds but turned out to be a visit to Sheffield, where Tommy Lee Royce was in prison. As Catherine trailed her sister, we experienced almost 10 minutes of sustained discomfort and tension, close to unbearable, broken only with a phone call to a woman eating a sandwich alone in a cafe. Clare struggles to lie about where she is supposed to be; Catherine watches through the window as the greatest of betrayals unfolds in front of her. Both Finneran and Lancashire were simply extraordinary. Who would have thought that “Hiya” would be a contender for one of the greatest lines in modern TV history? That’s Sally Wainwright for you.