Artistic juxtaposition continues on Brookside. It’s early morning ... Clearly the morning after, but what? The camera pans slowly across a messy bedroom. Not much panning is required before we suss that the bedroom is that of poor, pitiful, scruffy, smelly Katie, because there’s a photo of the patron saint of ducks on the nightstand by the bed.
Katie lies in bed with Gobby, his less-than-pleasingly plump arm recumbant over her shoulder, like a dead weight, I should suppose, making any sort of movement impossible, because Gobby is the sort of troglodyte who would blow a gasket in style should his slumber be disturbed. Katie looks more miserable in the morning than she does at other times of the day. She looks wary upon discovering an arm across her face, however. Maybe for one instant, she imagines herself in an episode of Dallas. Maybe she’ll turn, discover Clint in bed beside her, and realise that the past few months have been only a dream - but, hey! Clint wasn’t THAT good in his part, Katie, and his contract wasn’t renewed.
Slowly, so as not to disturb the other resident of the bed, Katie ventures to look over her shoulder. Damn! Just as she feared. She’s slept with Gobby, and so, once again become the meat in a sibling sandwich. (Just imagine if Flint hadn’t died - what a goss he, Gobby, Luke and Ryan Musgrove could have had! And Katie says JACQUI goes from man to man!)
Jacqui, meanwhile, is awakening to her first day of married life. The bedroom is sunny, bright and clean- everything Katie’s isn’t. But all is not well, because Jacqui awakes alone. Maxim/Maxwell/Maximilian is nowhere to be found.
By now, however, Gobby is awake. He, too, glances apprehensively and unbelievingly at Katie, who lies with her back to him. He’s quite obviously appalled that he could have slept with his dead brother’s girlfriend, as much as he is appalled that he could have endeavoured to sleep with poor pitiful Katie at all. Thinking she’s asleep, he does what any self-respecting, self-centred, penis-brained lad would do after a one-night stand with a girl with whom he wouldn’t be caught dead in daylight ... He quickly tries to soundlessly pull on his trousers and scarper at the same time.
Suddenly, Katie sits up in bed, gathering the white sheets to her pancake-concave chest in poor imitation of Mrs O’Leary. Gobby realises that he’s been caught out and clumsily tries to hurry his toilette. (For NG readers, that means he’s trying to dress not have a wee). Katie, quite sensibly, thinks that the pair need to have a chat about what transpired the night before; after all, they can’t pretend it never happened.
Gobby doesn’t even pretend to apologise. He was bladdered, he explains frantically. Anyway, it wasn’t his fault. Katie took advantage of him, he says. How could she let something like that happen? Poor pitiful Katie is shocked into wordless silence. Gobby repeats that he was bladdered and angry and she took advantage of it. Katie persists in insisting that the two of them talk. She protests that last night wasn’t her fault.
Gobby wants to hear nothing of it. Why, Clint wasn’t even cold in his grave and here she was, crawling into the sack with his brother!
Poor Jacqui wanders aimlessly downstairs, searching and calling for Max.
Over at Hotel Corkhill, Jimmy has fixed a stonking brekkie for Wills, who appears to suddenly have changed appearance dramatically. He’s taller and is now capable of reciting his lines - even better than Kylie! (Ant Murray should beware). He tells the boy that Jackie will be coming to collect him today, and as it would be awhile before he could return to stay with Jimmy, Jimmy had fixed his favourite breakfast.
In the background, Timily are discussing the cost of the travel fare for Emily to visit Margi in Brussels. It’s TWO HUNDRED QUID, for Christ’s sake! (Is she flying first class, I ask myself? Surely there are loads of budget fares to and from Brussels. Or is she taking the train to London and Eurostar to Belgium?) Emily is wondering where the couple will find the extra dosh for her to use.
Tim tells her that he’s meeting with some lads who were inside with him, during the next couple of days. They’ll ensure that he’ll get some dosh - for Gobby Moffatt’s passport, if nothing else. In the meantime, he hands Jim a letter, which has arrived for him. Jimmy glances at it uneasily and reckons it’s from his solicitor about the Court Welfare Officer, regarding William’s custody.
He puts it aside.
Tim is curious. Isn’t Jimmy going to open it? Jimmy shakes his head, dismissively. Not now. He knows it’s about the custody, but right now, he doesn’t want to know. He has more important things to do - like have a game of footie in the back garden with William. He asks the boy how he would like to do that whilst waiting for Jackie to arrive.
Katie is still trying unsuccessfully to reason with Gobby. She tries to tell him that last night, they both were in need of someone and reached out to each other. Gobby is disgusted and blames her entirely. She always did have a history of going after brothers. He’s struggling to pull his trousers over his enormous blobby bum, when Nisha suddenly enters the room and is struck dumb by the sight (whether it’s Gobby’s presence or his ugly arse, is anyone’s guess). Gobby, needless to say, scarpers.
When Nisha recovers from her the shock of seeing Gobby’s arse, she confronts Katie. Surely Katie didn’t really SLEEP with Gobby? Katie is unable to answer. Nisha searches for the easy option. Did he force Katie? Katie avoids Nisha’s eyes and admits that he ‘sort of’ forced her to sleep with him.
But, surely that’s rape, exclaims Nisha, and the police should be called. Katie hastens to explain herself. She actually let Gobby sleep with her, although she didn’t want to. She was feeling lonely, and someone seemed to want her. She let it happen. She slept with Clint’s brother, just the way she slept with Ryan’s brother.
It’s breakfast time at the Shadwick Hiltons’ as well. Jessie, beaming beatifically, has cooked Do-A-Little, who has now decided that he’s a full-time Scouser, a full English breakfast. In fact, she’s done his favourite breakfast. Do-A-Little is seated at the table and doing a little flirting, himself, but not with Jess. He’s aiming his attentions at Nikki, who jokes that it’s all right for some, the way Jess pampers him.
Do-A-Little ribs her about being a student, saying that students live off a diet of crisps and beer. As the two enjoy a laugh, Jess fumes jealously in the background.
Ray enters the room, to be told shortly by Jess that she’s fixed some toast for him. Ray looks hungrily at Do-A-Little’s plate, but Jessie explains that she didn’t thing Raymundo would want a full breakfast. Ray’s face drops for an instant, but as he is forced to eat his meagre toast at the kitchen counter, he comments on how well Nikki and Do-A-Little seem to be getting on.
Jessie instantly poo-poos the idea. Why, Nikki is a lot younger that Do-A-Little. (And here, I was hoping Ray would bring up Jacqui and Max as an example). Anyway, Jessie continues, Nikki isn’t over Jerome yet. But surely, protests Ray, Do-A-Little was glad of Nikki’s company. After all, it can’t be easy for a young bloke to be living with a couple of pensioners (not when there’s an empty house across the way and an empty flat above the surgery). Jessie insists, unconvincingly, that she doesn’t want Nikki to get hurt.
Nisha is concerned for Katie and asks if she’s OK to go to work. Katie appears to be in an even worse state than normal. Nisha really should lecture her about hygiene and Immac. All Gobby can do, Nisha observes, is cause misery. Why on earth did Katie let him in the flat in the first place?
Katie says she felt sorry for Gobby. He was in a state, himself, with yesterday being Jacqui’s wedding day. She realised she should have sent him packing, but all he initially wanted was a drink and someone with whom to talk.
Being a conscientious nurse and a careful whore, Nisha asks if Katie used any protection the previous night. Katie avoids looking at Nisha, indicative of the fact that she had unsafe sex.
Why isn’t Nisha surprised? She endeavours to haul Katie downstairs to the surgery for the morning-after pill.
The doorbell rings at the Farnhams’, and Jacqui answers it. Well, rattle, rattle, rattle, here come the cattle - it’s her bovine sister-in-law and sometime friend, Rachel, she of the brainless cranium. Rachel has decided to visit the newlyweds on the day after their marriage, as you do ... NOT. Rachel is batting her eyelids and wittering aimlessly, as if trying to show the audience that she’s intelligent enough to blink and talk at the same time. She even moves her head from side to side too, just like a ventriloquist’s dummy.
She explains purposelessly that she wouldn’t have dreamed of coming over if she hadn’t already seen Max leave early that morning. (In other words, Rachel is a nosey cow, who’ll probably report every little fart let in the Farnham household back to Anthea, another bitch). Jacqui is struggling to maintain her composure, and Rachel asks a supremely stupid question. Get ready for this now ...
‘Is anything wrong?’
Jacqui explains that Max left first thing that morning before she woke up. Rachel tut-tuts. She primly informs Jacqui that it’s the Farnhams’ first day together as man and wife and Max should be with Jacqui.
Jacqui explains to Rachel that she knows where Max has gone. He must be at the cemetary. He needs to sort out the Susannah situation. Last night, she relates, Emma asked for her mother, the first time she’s done so in ages; and Max got visibly upset. (I find this VERY baffling. Emma is only two years old. Children’s memories at that age are transient at the best. Emma has been without Susannah almost a year. At the time of Susannah’s death, Emma would have been nearly two. A week is a long time for a toddler - a year must be almost a lifetime for a two year-old. She couldn’t possibly have any tangible memories of her mother. Couldn’t it be, as Jacqui has been living with Max for some weeks, and a daily part of the children’s lives for months, that Emma was referring to JACQUI as ‘mummy’?)
Rachel is galvanised into action. Max has got to learn to get on with his life, his life with Jacqui, she says stridently. With no thought of her own daughter, who - like the ubiquitous Kylie whatever - is passed from pillar to post, Rachel volunteers to babysit Emma and Harry whilst Jacqui ‘smokes out’ Max. (That Dubya, what a man with words!)
The Naughty Nurse and the Sad Slag have made it at last to the surgery, where Nisha administers the bitter pill combatting an unwanted pregnancy. She instructs Katie to take one tablet now and another in 12 hours’ time. Katie mumbles in her thick Scouse monotone that she never imagined that she could sleep with anyone after Clint, yet within a few months of his death, she had slept with his brother. Gobby was right to warn Clint about her behaviour. This wasn’t exactly a new experience for her.
Nisha tries to console her, saying that she doesn’t blame Katie.
But Gobby didn’t force her, Katie insists. She let him do what he did. It was the same with Ryan and Luke Musgrove. Nisha tries to explain that Katie was struggling with the loss of a boyfriend, just as Gobby was struggling with the loss of a brother. People react to grief in different ways. It was grief, not lust, that brought the two of them together.
Jacqui has found Max, rooted to the ground beside Susannah’s headstone. Never one to be at a loss for words, she tackles Max verbally. What’s going on? She demands. Why did he leave first thing in the morning like that?
Max admits that he needed time to think.
Jacqui is offended. Didn’t Max listen to and comprehend their wedding vows? He should talk to Jacqui, she says. If Max can’t put Susannah behind him, how can he hope to have a life together with her and the children? Max admits that he had come to the cemetary to tell Susannah that it was time for him to move on in his life. He was ready to start anew with Jacqui.
Jackie Corkhill has arrived at Hotel Corkhill. Jimmy and William have come in from the footie game in the back garden. Jimmy explains that it was fortunate that they had finished their game, otherwise, they wouldn’t have heard her. He shows Jackie the unopened solicitor’s letter. Jackie admits that she got one too, and, likewise, hadn’t been able to open it.
As they walk from the cemetary, Jacqui pledges to Max her desire to make the children happy and be a good mother to them - Emma as well as Harry. Max says that he wants the children to remember who Susannah was, and Jacqui promises to tell them all about Susannah, as soon as they are old enough to understand. (Crikey, what stories - the surrogacy, the men - Greg, the explosion, Mick, Dazza ...) Already, Jacqui considers their quartet to be a family. Max finally admits that he is ready to let go of the past (about time too!)
The envelope, please ... And the winner is ... Jackie Corkhill.
That’s about that, as far as the custody of the bowl-headed William is concerned. Jimmy sits disconsolately, a manic crisis welling within. So the court reckons he’s not capable of raising his own son, do they? Jackie tries to reason with him patiently. Surely Jimmy realised that she would get custody all along? The court reckoned the child was better off with his mother.
At first Jimmy tries to be stoical. The decision’s been made. Nothing he could do about it now to change it. Suddenly, tears well in Jim’s eyes and he begins to cry, begging Jackie not to take his son from him.
Katie is moping miserably about the surgery, making the few patients feel worse than their sicknesses allow. Nisha tells the po-faced poo that she should go home. Katie admits that she does feel ill. Well, quips Nisha, that’s what hangovers do to you. Katie should go home and drink plenty of water. If she feels really bad, Nisha could always give her something. Why should Katie suffer?
Katie reckons that she deserves anything and everything that comes her way. What would Jacqui say if she knew what she’d done? Nisha, being uncharacteristically generous to Jacqui for some reason, tells Katie, quite accurately, that Jacqui would probably think that Katie had yet to come to terms with Clint’s death, and that this was her way of reacting to it. Either way, Jacqui wouldn’t judge.
Katie disagrees. Jacqui would think Katie was a slag, she says. (Well, others would, Katie, but Jacqui wouldn’t).
Nisha decides to try her hand at psychology. She wonders if, perhaps, Katie’s sleeping with Gobby was Katie’s way of getting back at Jacqui? (Naaaaaah. It’s part of the self-pity gimmick, Nish. Misery loves company, and self-pity begets self-loathing to beget more self-pity. As that esteemed sage, Jimmy Corkhill, would say, ‘It’s a treadmill’.) Katie doesn’t think her actions were a way of getting back at Jacqui. Instead, Katie thinks that she, herself, is a stupid, selfish cow. (MY GOD! A LIGHT ON THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS! HOW TRUE! LET THE SELF-FLAGELLATION BEGIN!)
Jackie Corkhill is trying to comfort, calm and reason with Jimmy, who’s slowly losing grip of his emotional stability. Jackie tries to encourage him, telling him that he can’t afford to let the question of William’s custody get him down. Jimmy, she warns, as she observes him soberly, is in danger of seriously losing control.
Jimmy mutters bitterly that he’s being pushed out of his son’s life. Jackie objects. That’s not the case at all, she says. Jimmy is at liberty to see William whenever he likes - every weekend, if he wants, and the school holidays. But the life of a divorced dad with access isn’t good enough for the new all-singing, all-dancing, omniscient sage of the Close. No, siree, Bob! Jimmy wants to be able to see Wills morning and night. Jackie was patently depriving him of the right to watch his son grow up.
Jackie tries to reason sanely with Jimmy, which is a useless effort. She tells him, yet again, that Jimmy isn’t losing anything. William would always be close by. He could see him every day if he wanted.
Jimmy begins a rant which extends way beyond the custody question. William is only the first part of Jackie’s evil master plan. The next thing she’ll want is the house, he supposes. Jackie begins to protest vainly. No one’s saying anything about the house. Jackie’s living happily at her sister’s. But Jimmy reckons he knows better. Jackie won’t be happy until Jimmy’s out on the streets.
Jackie makes an effort to put a stern stop to Jimmy’s ranting, much the same way she would try to stop a small child (like William) from having a tantrum. She firmly tells Jimmy to stop ranting. This was a difficult time for everyone and they all had to pull together, for William’s sake, if nothing else.
At that instant, William appears, ready to leave with his mother. As the pair leave the house, Jimmy begins to cry again.
Mr and Mrs Farnham have returned home to find Bossy the Cow - er, sorry, Rachel - awaiting them. The kids, she says, are having naps, as she finally prepares to leave the couple alone. After she’s left, Jacqui jokes to Max that she never thought she would spend her first day as a married woman at a cemetary. Max promises his new wife that he will always put her and the kids first in his life now. And maybe other people will just let them get on with their lives as a family. (Maybe they should drop a less-than-subtle hint to Rachel to only come over when she’s invited).
Jacqui remarks in wonder at the fact that Gobby Moffatt hadn’t shown at the reception. She was on tenterhooks that he’d put in an appearance just to spoil their day. Max remarks that mayb Gobby had finally decided to leave them alone. Jacqui declares that after Ron’s trial, Gobby Moffatt’s name will be forever banned from that household.
Raymundo and Jessie are sitting in the bungalow having a chat. Do-A-Little must have decided to bugger off to the surgery to ‘do-a’little’ work, because they appear to have the house to themselves, much to the dismay of Jessie.
Ray has been concerned at the way Jessie is flying about the house (sans broomstick) waiting on Do-A-Little hand and foot. But Raymundo, never a profound soul - bless him! - reckons he’s got Jess’s behaviour sussed. Having Do-A-Little around must be, for Jessie, like having a son again. Do-A-Little is actually a surrogate son for Jess and she can do all the things for him that she used to do for Greg.
Jessie is mightily insulted and storms off in a huff. (If she were younger, she would have flounced). No one could ever replace Greg, she informs poor Raymundo haughtily.
Nisha has physically walked Katie back upstairs to the flat and into her stinky, smelly, dirty bedroom. Katie needs to rest, Nisha tells her, sensibly. Katie is reluctant to get in bed. She can’t sleep in THAT bed, she declares, especially after having slept in it with Gobby. But Nisha deposits her on the bed, and Katie slumps down into a miserable mire of self-pity, staring glazedly into the distance.
Do-A-Little has put in an appearance in the bar, sitting at a table. Nikki, who’s working, goes over to the table to take his order, only - unlike any other waitress - she takes a seat beside him. Why was he here all alone? She wonders. She thought he was going out with some of his staff for a drink after work.
Do-A-Little explains that poor pitiful Katie wasn’t well. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but she looked terrible all day. (You mean he hasn’t noticed? But then, he’s not really the most perceptive of people). As he’s talking to Nikki, she glances briefly over her shoulder, at precisely the same moment that Jerome arrives in the bar.
‘The infamous ex,’ remarks Do-A-Little, for lack of anything substantial to say. Nikki turns her attention to Do-A-Little in an effort to ignore Jerome.
Tim’s seated at the bar, and Jerome joins him. He’s uncomfortable in Nikki’s presence. He didn’t think Nikki would be here. Tim shrugs. This was, after all, Jerome’s local. Why shouldn’t he come in here whenever he liked? Jerome remarks that Nikki blanks him now whenever she sees him. What did he expect? Asks Tim.
Meanwhile, Nikki is still seated by Do-A-Little’s side, whilst taking his order. He orders a steak sandwich, and Nikki warns him that the steak is really part of Christy Murray’s dodgy meat consignment. Do-A-Little, however, is looking forward to a light meal. He tells Nikki he’s just about had enough of Jessie’s gargantuan feasts.
Nikki jokes that maybe her Nan is trying to fatten him up, and Do-A-Little flirts with her.
Jacqui and Max are spending some quality time with the kids, when Harry calls Jacqui ‘Mummy’. Jacqui is nearly in tears with happiness, and Max tells her that it won’t be long before Emma is calling her ‘Mummy’ as well. (Er, is Jacqui going to bother to adopt Emma, as Susannah didn’t bother to adopt Harry?)
Nikki serves Do-A-Little his sarnie, as she looks apprehensively at two young scallies who enter the bar. They make a beeline for Tim. On closer inspection, we recognise the pair as the bullet-headed and thickset young thug and his brother, who attended the O’Leary ‘wedding reception’ the night that Clint was shot. They are friends of Sotto’s. Nikki clocks their association with Tim and remarks to Do-A-Little that she doesn’t like the look of Tim’s mates. Do-A-Little reprimands her about judging a book by its cover, but Nikki knows the score about them. They appeared to be a dodgy crew. (Surprised she didn’t recognise them from the party - didn’t Bullet-Head try to snog her?)
Emily should know what Tim’s up to, Nikki reckons, and that’s no good. She vows that she’s going to keep an eye on O’Leary.
But as she says this, Jerome is keeping an eye on Nikki, and she notices this too. Deliberately, she leans forward and whispers something in Do-A-Little’s ear. Seeing what appears to him to be provocative behaviour on the part of Nikki, Jerome leaves the bar. Unbeknownst to Nikki, however, as Do-A-Little is seated in the ubiquitous window seat in the establishment, she is also being watched by Jessie, who’s approaching The Parade in the direction of the garage outside. She stands motionlessly, glaring at her granddaughter, who’s enjoying a young man’s company. It’s quite obvious, too, that the young man is enjoying Nikki’s company as well.
As Jerome steps outside, he encounters Jessie, who has reason to think very little of him, in view of his previous behaviour. But this is a jealous Jessie now - no longer a protective man, but a woman in competition with her granddaughter for the attentions of a silly boy.
Bullet-Head and Brother follow close on Jerome’s heels, saying good-bye to Tim as Emily walks in. She looks at the departing lads, asking Tim who they were. Tim says they were lads he knew in prison, and again, I’m surprised that Emily didn’t recognise them from the night of the party, as they were both there and both gave her hassle. They were, in Tim’s limited vocabulary, his ‘connections’ and ‘very useful people to know’.
He and they had been doing some good business, and if he played his cards right, she would have her air fare to Brussels and they would never have to worry about rent again. As a sealing to this promise, he suggests that the two of them celebrate with a drink.
Outside, a sheepish Jerome faces Jessie. She begins by telling the boy that she’s not about to have a go at him. The two of them gaze ruefully at Nikki bantering with Do-A-Little in the window of the bar. Nikki seem’s OK, Jerome remarks. Why, she’s all over that doctor.
Jessie informs Jerome that that’s all an act. Nikki wasn’t properly over Jerome yet. Jerome is genuinely contrite. He’s terribly sorry for his previous behaviour, and he only wishes that Nikki would forgive him. Slyly, Jessie encourages Jerome to have hope and promises to have a word with Nikki on his behalf. (Is there something in the water on Brookside that turns all women into duplitious bitches?)
Poor pitiful, smelly, dirty, rancid, greasy, mustachioed Katie raises her oily head from her pillow and reaches over to the night stand to help herself to what appears to be a stiff glass of brandy. She gulps it down and replaces the glass. As she does so, she notices the engagement ring on her finger. She removes the ring. This is supposed to be symbolic.
Jimmy sits listlessly alone in Hotel Corkhill. The door opens and Jackie enters. She apologises for barging in. She was knocking, but Jimmy didn’t appear to hear her. She still has her key, she says. (So why hasn’t Jimmy changed the locks?)
Jimmy shrugs morosely. Why shouldn’t she just come right in? He asks, rhetorically. After all, the place will be hers soon. Jackie says she came back because she was worried about Jimmy.
Jimmy snorts, dismissively. Jackie can see for herself how Jimmy is. He’s OK. She needn’t worry about him throwing himself off the roof, he quips, even though the court has taken his son off him. William needs him, he reminds Jackie. (For what? Entertainment?)
Jackie tries to explain that the court gave Jackie custody because the boy needed his mother. But what about his dad? Jimmy asks petulantly.
Suddenly, Jackie looks at Jimmy curiously. Would Jimmy be willing to do anything to get William back? She asks. Jimmy looks at her suspiciously. Jackie suggests something audacious. She suggests that Jimmy allow her to move back in with him. At first, Jimmy is speechless. But Jackie continues. As strange as it may seem, Jackie still loves Jimmy. She knows that their relationship would take time to repair, if ever, but she was willing to attempt a reconciliation for the boy’s sake. That way, Jimmy would have William AND keep the house as well.
Was this a wind-up? Asks Jimmy.
Jackie shakes her head. She was never so serious about anything in her life.
Jimmy is left to ponder the idea.
Summary © 2001 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2001