Tuesday, 23rd October 2001

DAYS OF FUTURE PAST

DIRE CONSEQUENCES

Well, I was hard put to know which of the two titles best suited this episode, but then I decided - why choose? Both were inordinately appropriate. Hints of things to come in the future out of the past, and deadly Dire dealing with the dreaded Corkhill word of the moment - CONSEQUENCES.

And in the midst of it all, the divine Neil Capel, easily the best actor to grace Brookside for years in sheer talent. He is the hidden gem, in fact the only gem, remaining in Brookside’s crown.

Er, how many awards did Brookside win on Tuesday, Paul? How many nominations did it get? My point exactly ...

Morning has broken at Sitcom House. Like the first morning. Like every morning, in fact, in this less than happy household. The Antichrist sits on the sitcom sofa, with a miserable scowl on his miserable, little, bigoted face. No, he’s not particularly worried that he has to join forces with his mate Osama to bring their particular brand of religious hate to the world, he’s worried about going to school and meeting his nemeses, Paige and Imelda. But the Antichrist is not omniscient. Little does he know that Herod, his dad, knows his dreaded secret.

Marty looms over Ant and tosses the boy’s trainers onto his lap. He abruptly tells him to hurry and get his shoes on, as Marty wants to walk to school with him. Ant objects, saying he’s not feeling well and doesn’t want to go to school. Anyway, why does Marty want to walk him to school, as though he were a baby? Marty replies that he simply wants to have a talk with his son.

Dire appears from somewhere to the hinterland of Marty, pushing her hard, plaster-of-paris coated face with its rigor mortis smile over her husband’s shoulder to remark that Ant DOES look a bit under the weather. Marty shoots her an equally hard look and roughly surmises that Ant’s well enough to go to school and the lad’s to hurry up.

Ant sullenly gives his father some cheek, asking since when did Marty become a doctor, and setting up a moan about no one believing him when he says he’s ill. (Well, you little hypocrite, you are lying. That’s a sin).

Plank appears in the door to the sitcom foyer, dressed in his vest and he and Marty exchange views about Plank’s hygienic habits (varnishing and all that). He bemoans the fact that Adele always seems to be in the bathroom, as Marty leaves his oldest son in full sentence flow and disappears into the sitcom kitchen.

He soon reappears, however, to ask Dire the whereabouts of his sandwiches for his lunch .(Er, since when did Marty Murray ever remain at school for his lunch? That’s a first). Oh, witters Dire, oblivious to everyone’s needs and comforts except her own, she hasn’t made him any sarnies. She thought that, as today was her half-day at the salon (does she ever work a whole day?), she would prepare him a nutritious, fat-filled, high-cholesterol lunch. Actually, there was something about the IVF (her favourite topic) that she wanted to discuss with him, and she reckons lunch would be a good time to do so. In fact, she’s lain awake all night, thinking of nothing else. She smiles what she perceives to be a persuasive Oxo smile, but Marty doesn’t respond.

Why? Because all the time she’s wittering away, Ant is skulking closer and closer to the front door, trying to effect a departure without anyone noticing. Marty, meanwhile, continues to glance apprehensively over his shoulder after his youngest child. He hurriedly agrees to meet with Dire at lunch, more to shut her up than anything else and rushes out the door after Ant.

He catches up with the lad as he’s walking away from Sitcom House and shouts at him to wait. Marty explains again that he wants to have a talk with Ant, about school specifically. Is anything wrong? Antichrist Ant denies anything is wrong at school. Marty reiterates his question, asking Ant if he’s certain there’s nothing he wants to talk to his father about. Ant is almost as bad a liar as Rachel Dixon, his clue to lying being the fact that, in addition to opening his mouth, he pointedly cannot look the person to whom he tells the lie in the face.

He looks well away from Marty’s gaze and lies, insisting that nothing is wrong at school.

Marty disregards this for what it is and informs Ant that he knows the boy is still being bullied. Ant tries to deny this yet again, but Marty insists on hearing the truth, saying that Adele had told him everything about what she’d seen. A look of sheer horror crosses Ant’s face, as Marty continues in disbelief.

Ant is being bullied by GIRLS? Questions Marty. He’s actually letting GIRLS bully him? He couldn’t fathom what Adele was on about when she had told him. Why, exactly, is Antony letting this happen?

Ant can find no adequate reply, so he keeps his bigoted little gob shut.

Are they older than he? Asks Marty. Ant shakes his head.

Are they in Ant’s class? Ant nods mutely.

Then why doesn’t he hit them back? Demands Marty.

Ant replies, miserably demure, that he was always told by Dire that it was wrong to hit a girl.

A look of minimal disgust briefly crosses Marty’s face. Forget it, he says roughly. It doesn’t count at your age. Later, yes, but not now. (Not that I approve, but I can see a point to this. Considering the fact that girls mature and grow quicker than boys, eleven year-old girls are often loads bigger than boys of that age, as evidenced by Imelda).

Ant maintains that he can’t do it.

Again, Marty demands to know why he can’t; and Ant miserably explains that the two girls in question are ‘right grocks’ and could very easily beat him up.

Marty tries another tack, demanding that Ant tell him the names of the girls in question. He’ll go to the head, if he has to; but Ant refuses to grass. It would only make things worse, he says.

Marty tries a couple of more times to get Ant to admit the names of the girls, but Ant steadfastly refuses, until Marty exclaims in desperation:

‘But you CAN’T let yourself be ordered around by GIRLS!’ (The irony is that this is exactly what is happening to Marty at the moment; he’s being ordered about from pillar to post on the subject of IVF by Dire, and look at his situation. Subconsciously, he sees his own predicament mirrored in Ant).

Timily are preparing to face the day at Hotel Corkhill. Tim is still having a whinge about his last and embarrassing encounter with Christy in the bar. That Christy Murray needs taking down a peg, swears Tim. He needs teaching a lesson, and Tim was just the man to do it. Call him a loser, will he? Why Christy was nothing more than a meat man - he sells MINCE! Tim gabbles.

When the Timily Empire is in full swing, he announces, beauts like Christy Murray won’t stand a chance. Not only is he going to teach Christy a lesson, he announces to his sympathetic and pneumonic wife, he’s going to make some money on teaching him this lesson too. After all, Em’s 18th birthday is Friday, and he wants to have enough dosh to buy her a nice pressie.

Emily smiles in appreciative anticipation. But meanwhile, vows Tim, he has to find out exactly what Christy’s game was and how to play him at it.

Paige and Imelda stand threateningly on the steps of Brookie Comp as Ant approaches. Imelda calls out, ‘Altar Boy’, tauntingly to him, before Paige points out that Ant has his dad with him. Briefly gutted, Imelda announces their intention of getting at him after dinner.

Marty notices the exchange and asks Ant if those two were the girls in question. Ant tries to deny it, and Marty doesn’t pursue his line of questioning, although it’s clear that Marty knows these are the girls who have been bullying Ant. Instead, Marty urges Ant to be strong; after all, he’s a lad. Stand up to them.

Ant is worried that everyone else in the family, besides Marty and Adele, knows about this situation; but Marty assures him that they don't and promises not to tell Dire. But Antony must try to stand up to these girls, he insists.

Meantime, Dire and Emily are walking to work, having a goss. That’s a first! They are both going to be at work at the same time.The pair are discussing plans for Emily’s 18th birthday celebrations, due to take place of Friday. Dire wants to know if Emily is having a party. Emily points out that, in order to have a party, one needs money. (Er, why can’t Jess give the girl a party?) This is true, remarks Dire sadly. One needs money for most things in life.

Still, Emily declares, determinedly, she and Tim will be happy just to be together. She should be grateful, she says, trying to convince herself more than anyone else, that she has Tim. Maybe the two of them will just have a quiet meal together, that should be enough for her.

So, asks Dire, Emily doesn’t mind not having a party for her 18th?

At first Emily says that she doesn’t really mind not having a party, but then she comes clean and declares that if she had her way, she’d have a big blast of a party. The pair laugh as they head toward the salon.

Back in the realms of the unemployed, however - i.e. The Hotel Corkhill Hostel for the Homeless - Tim is badgering Jimmy for useful information on Christy Murray. Jimmy works at the bar, Tim asserts. Surely HE must have some sort of idea of the sort of scams in which Christy’s involved.

Jimmy tries to deny all knowledge. He simply doesn’t want to get involved. Anyway, why is Tim so determined to take a pop at Christy?

Because, Tim explains, it’s a matter of pride. Christy had a go at Tim the other day IN the bar IN public. Christy called Tim a loser. Fancy that! The likes of Christy Murray talking to Tim like that! (Tim’s ego, like Emily’s and Adele’s boobs, seems to grow bigger each passing day).

Oh, yes, agrees Jimmy, sarcastically. It wouldn’t do the likes of Christy Murray to speak that way to a man of Tim’s ambition.

And in front of Emily and all! Exclaims Tim, clearly affronted.

‘Ahhhhhh, diddums!’ Soothes Jimmy, again in a sarcastic tone. ‘He’s all upset at being ticked off by Christy.’ Jimmy is clearly not impressed at Tim’s reaction or his attitude. But he decides to clue Tim in on what he knows about Christy’s empire. Christy Murray, he confides, appears to have his finger in all kinds of pies. Jimmy’s got a glimpse of the office at the bar. It’s stocked solid with all kinds of knock-down gear, which Christy sells on. Christy, like Old Mo on Eastenders, is a fence.

But where does he get all the stuff, Tim wants to know, eagerly. Jimmy, non-plussed, admits that every known shoplifter in Liverpool has suddenly become a valued regular at Bev’s Bar (including the proprietor, as Bev was done on a shoplifting charge). And not only that, continues Jimmy, there were scores of various kinds of booze stored and served on the premises - and it didn’t come from the brewery to which the bar was contracted.

That’s it, thinks Tim, instantly. He’ll simply tell the brewery.

And what good will that do, Jimmy wants to know. Tim points out smugly that Christy will lose his licence.

Correction, says Jimmy. BEV will lose her licence. And Jimmy will most likely lose his job, which is needed to keep home and Tim fed and dusted. Besides, Tim will have the singular distinction of having become a grass. Does he want that sort of reputation? No. If Tim is hell-bent on getting back at Christy for whatever reason, make sure it’s worth Tim’s wile.

The doorbell rings. Tim answers it to find Plank standing on the doorstep. Plank wants to know if Tim fancies a game of pool, at the bar. They could down a couple of pints in the meantime, as Plank has to see Christy about some family business. Tim jumps eagerly at the chance.

At dinnertime at Brookie Comp, Ant walks forlornly away from the school. Paige and Imelda follow him, taunting ‘Altar Boy’ about waiting for him after dinner.

Tim and Plank have made it to the bar and are indulging in a game of pool. Tim is whingeing about Christy doing his head in, apologising for the fact that Plank is Christy’s nephew. Plank shrugs his wooden shoulder. Makes no difference to him. He has to see Christy about a money matter anyway. He needs some dosh and figures Christy must be flush. How much does Plank need, asks Tim. Three grand, answers Plank.

Tim is impressed and wants to know why Christy needs that amount. Plank clams up, saying it’s a private matter, but he reckons Christy can provide it.

At that moment, the door to the bar slams and Christy enters.

Plank approaches the bar, as Christy greets him, jokingly asking if Plank’s come for a free brew. He pulls the lad a pint on the house, and Plank reminds him that Tim is also his guest. Not him, Christy demurs. Not after the way Tim talked to him last time he saw him. NO. Tim could spare a few bob to buy a pint.

Plank decides to apprise Christy of the reason he’s called into the bar. He asks if Christy knows that his parents’ latest bout of IVF had been unsuccessful. Christy listens, non-committally. Anyway, Plank continues, they fancy another crack at the treatment, and Plank thought that Christy might be helpful in that regard.

Christy eyes Plank warily and tells Plank that he’ll talk the matter over privately with him within the hour. Plank reminds Christy that he has some cash-in-hand work on a 'foreigner' this afternoon.

Marty’s reluctantly returned home at dinnertime, as commanded. Dire greets him, excitedly, thanking him for coming home. (Did he have any choice in the matter?) She smiles the dreaded rigor mortis grin and informs him, in what I can only surmise was a deliberate and ‘Dire’ pun on the part of the writers, that she’s got two pies warming for him in the oven. (NOT funny). Then she goes into her whiney, manipulative, cloying spiel, first apologising for the atmosphere that’s been extant in the house lately. She hastens to assure Marty that she still loves him (obviously thinking that that’s all he needs to hear in order to come around to her way of thought).

Marty is duped a bit by her demeanour, thinking that she’s come to her senses at last. He melts a bit in his attitude and sincerely says that more than anything, he wants her to have a baby of her own. More than winning the Lottery, more than winning the Pools, more even than Liverpool winning every trophy imaginable (which must stick mightily in his gullet, as the actor is an Everton fan), if he were granted one wish, it would be for Dire to conceive and have a baby. The couple lock themselves in a ferocious clinch.

Then Marty delivers his punchline. But the truth of the matter is, simply, that they just can’t afford anymore IVF treatment. In fact, he, too, has lost sleep over this predicament, wondering how to accomplish what his wife so fervently wants; but the conclusion is simply that there was no way it could be done. Honestly, he assures her, if there were anything of value left to sell in the family, he’d do it instantly so that she could have another go. Dire would have to accept that they had reached the end of the line with this procedure.

Ah, but Dire’s been thinking too, and she reckons that the Murrays have one item of considerable value left to sell - the house.

Upon hearing this, poor Marty looks as though he’s just received a mighty blow to his soft little barrel-belly.

Tim and Plank are still at the bar, prolonging their pool game and waiting until Plank can be summoned into the court of King Christy. Tim wants to know if Plank reckons Christy will come up trumps and lend him the money. Plank remarks that he couldn’t afford to hang around all afternoon, as he had a ‘foreigner’ scheduled.

Back at Sitcom House, Marty is still recovering from the shock of Dire’s announcement. Dire notices his surprise and tries to deflect her idea’s impact a little by reminding Marty that the house was only bricks and mortar, after all. Really, she argues, it’s the ONLY way. Then, in order that he might not get a word in edgewise, she begins to witter incessantly about her plan, raising her mediocre voice an octave in order to stifle any sound Marty might attempt to make. They have no choice, she repeats, as if a mantra. Didn’t Marty say he’d be willing to make any sacrifice so she could have a baby? Isn’t this what they both want, she asks, rhetorically, expecting an agreement. Without waiting for an answer, she announces, in an excited rush that hardly allows her to pause for breath, that she will get onto the estate agents that very afternoon. They could tell the kids tonight at dinner, she says. It shouldn’t be a problem for them. Ant clearly hated Brookie Comp, and he would be glad to change schools. As for Plank, well, he’d most likely be moving out shortly anyway. (How? With no job?) And she’d square things with Adele - this would give them the excuse they needed to have a good ‘clear-the-air’ talk. And, thinking that she has Marty’s full support in this venture, she smiles, smugly confident and pleased with herself for being so clever.

There is an increasing look of panic-filled horror on Marty’s face.

Tim and Plank now sit at a table in the bar, nursing some lager. It tastes distinctly funny, they remark. At that moment, the Sage passes by, and comments that the taste is due to the fact that the lager was probably brewed in some warehouse on an industrial estate in Bootle and not in a proper brewery. Bootlegged in Bootle? The lads question. Jimmy makes himself scarce, commenting that he knows nothing, being only a humble ‘glass collector’.

Antichrist Ant approaches the school stealthily from what appears to be the rear of the building. Turning anxiously as he hears footsteps behind him, he allows another student to rush past him, before breathing a sigh of relief. But as he turns around to continue on his way, his path is blocked by the ubiquitous Paige and Imelda. Imelda, with a threatening smile, informs Ant that he’s late. Where’s the Altar Boy been? Church? Oh, and by the way, he couldn’t enter the school without first paying his entrance fee.

Ant sheepishly announces that he’s spent his dinner money, whereupon Imelda smacks him across the head. Then, looking up, the girls see Marty standing behind Ant. They briefly stop and stare, frozen.

‘Hit her back,’ urges Marty, coldly but calmly.

Imelda threatens Ant, saying that if he touches her, she’ll kill him.

Marty softly dares the girl to hit his son again, saying that if she does so, he’ll hit her back, himself.

Imelda smugly informs Marty that he can’t say things like that. Marty tells her coldly that he can say anything he wants, and he orders the girls to go to their lessons, or he’ll hit them, himself.

They laugh. Again, Imelda rudely advises Marty that he has no right to tell her and Paige what to do. He’s only a bog-cleaner, she taunts.

Marty reminds her that he’s a member of staff, and - as such - she is bound to obey him. Again, she calls him a bog-cleaner.

His reply is to order the girls again to go to their lessons, but they refuse to budge. He orders them to their lessons, and says that if he hears of them badgering Ant again, he’ll hit Imelda himself, and he promises her that if he hits her, she won’t get up again.

The girls defiantly refuse to budge, and Imelda plays the abuse card, snidely informing Marty that if he laid a hand on her, she’d report him. Paige, who’s been silent up to this point, smugly asserts that she would back Imelda as a witness.

Marty orders them to their lessons once again, but when they remain standing in front of him, he bellows ferociously: ‘GET TO YOUR LESSONS!!!!!’

A momentary look of real fear crosses both their faces and they scurry off, Marty shouting after them that he’ll go straight to the head about this.

Ant is standing by Marty’s side, silently crying. As the girls run off, he humbly apologises to his father. Marty looks down at his son with a mixture of disgust and frustration. Being sorry was no bloody good, he exclaims, and he clouts the boy across the face. Ant begins to cry in earnest now, as Marty desperately asks the boy why he wouldn’t stand up for himself.

Without answering, Ant dashes off toward the school building in tears, as the camera pans away from an utterly desperate Marty, standing alone on the school ground.

Plank has been summoned into the inner sanctum at the bar to discuss the potential loan of £3000 with Christy. Christy begins by giving Plank the benefit of his avuncular advice. Plank was better off staying out of this IVF thing, he says.

But Plank assures Christy that he can’t stay out of it. He lives in Sitcom House.

Well, says Christy, coldly efficient, it’s simply time that Dire faced facts. There are women in this world who bred like rabbits and rodents - the CSA was testimony to that. And then there were women like Dire, who weren’t meant to have kids. The sooner she faced that reality, the better for everyone concerned.

Plank tries to argue that both Dire AND Marty wanted another shot at having a baby, but Christy succinctly advises Plank that Marty only wanted the baby in order to go along with Dire’s wishes, nay DEMANDS. And look what this had done to him? He didn’t have two red copper pennies to rub together for his efforts, and here Plank was, in CHRISTY’S office, cadging another 3k loan for MORE treatment.

Christy shakes his head, dubiously. Look at Marty, he urges Plank. He’s in a dead-end job, working all hours, he’s sold his car, his season ticket. He’s skint, and for what? Dire’s incessant obsession. It’s proven nothing. Why should he add to their debt?

Interlude: Marty Murray trudges along the corridor of Brookie Comp, stopping to look through the glass on the classroom door, where Ant is at lessons. He watches as Paige and Imelda hunker down over his shoulder, oblivious to the teacher. Ant sits, slumped miserably in his seat. Marty helplessly wanders away.

Emily has called around Sitcom House on her way home, in order to return the salon keys to Dire. (Since when is an apprentice allowed a set of keys?) She tells Dire that she’s locked up, and Dire impulsively brags that she’s spent the afternoon ringing some estate agents. She may as well tell Emily, she says. The family have decided to move.

Emily is surprised. Are they going far away and why are they going ?

Well, smirks Dire, the family have never REALLY settled there (a tacit admission that some of the Brookside writers read either the DEAD-AS-A-DODO NEWSGROUP - who have now emigrated to Afghanistan and are masquerading as the Taliban - or the eminently respectable and thought-provoking Brooksider site or Soapbox Forum). And with the break-ins and the shooting, they certainly didn’t feel TOO safe. But they wouldn’t be going too far - they needed easy access for their jobs, after all.

Oblivious to this conversation, Marty Murray walks aimlessly onto the Close and pauses to gaze reflectively at his semi-detached Sitcom House.

Back at the bar, Christy is attempting to help his nephew Plank (who’s as thick as one) understand how his loan to the Murrays would further straighten their circumstances. They already owed ‘that old bat’ Bridgit £3000, he points out. How could more debt help them in this venture? (Why does NO ONE ever point out how expensive rearing and providing for a baby is?) In Christy’s erstwhile opinion, this was just throwing good money after bad. Dire should just ACCEPT THE CONSEQUENCES and move on.

Plank is in a morally defensive mood, since being snookered by his step-mother. Christy had no right to say these things, he declares. Why, poor Dire had sacrificed everything for the Murray family.

Dire? Scoffs Christy. Don’t make him laugh! What exactly has the patron saint of whingers sacrificed? Why, Marty had made more sacrifices of himself and his family for that one, who ALWAYS managed to get what she wanted by whingeing, nagging and moaning. That’s what he got when he got Dire. And as for Dire making sacrifices for the Murrays, well, Christy wants Plank to know that there weren’t many men around at the time Dire met Marty who were willing to take someone like her on board.

The bitch wouldn’t let Marty come near her until he’d put a wedding ring on her hand. No, it’s not Dire who’s sacrificed anything. As a matter of fact, she’s actually benefitted from marrying Marty, in a big way. She’s got a good husband, who’ll do anything for her; she got a new house in the bargain, and a ready-made family, without having to go through all that chld-bearing nonsense - loads of women would kill for that, alone.

And what did poor Marty get for his efforts? A mountain of debt and a wife who nags him to death. Why, he was better off with Jan, Christy finishes contemptuously.

Plank maintains defensively that Jan cheated on Marty. She cheated the once, argues Christy. They could have worked things out. Plank counter-argues that his real mother had betrayed his father with Marty’s best frient.

It was a dabble, says Christy. Nothing serious. They could have worked things out, if Marty had given her half a chance.

Plank asks Christy if he had had a dabble with Jan and all, and Christy assumes a sincerely serious look. Jan wasn’t like that at all, he maintains. She was a warm, loving woman and a good laugh. Jan fit in with the Murrays and made Marty laugh too. Why, says Christy, he’ll bet that if Plank asked, Marty would admit right now that he’d rather be with Jan this minute than in his present circumstances with Dire’s incessant nagging.

Plank suddenly lunges at Christy, pulling the smaller man up by his collar and holding him thus. At that instant, Tim - who’d obviously been stationed outside, eavesdropping on the conversation - wanders into the office, wanting to know if Plank needs any help. Whilst he’s there, he takes a moment to gaze at the dodgy goods lining the walls of the office.

Looking over his strained shoulder, Christy takes a moment to remark upon Plank’s choice of ‘that loser’ as his friend. Tim reiterates that Christy is the real loser and laconically leaves the room.

Plank shouts at Christy, still holding the man by the shirt collar, that Jan left ten years ago. No one had heard anything from her since. No birthday or Christmas cards, no phone calls. Why, he wouldn’t even know his mother if he passed her on the street. As far as he was concerned, she may as well be dead. At least, that was the only way he could deal with her absence, by telling himself that she must be dead. What kind of mother would lose all contact with her children, eh?

Christy, in strangulaton mode now, croaks that JAN ISN’T DEAD. (DA-DA-DAAAAAAAAAAA! Can you smell her, viewers? Can you see the figure on the horizon? What does Christy know?)

Plank maintains that Jan is a selfish cow and lets Christy go. Christy counters that Dire is the selfish cow. Plank should look at himself. She’s got him cadging another 3k loan - laying a 3k bet on something that has lousy odds. The family, Christy says, simply couldn’t afford more debt to finance that loony’s obsession. And it was time Plank stopped mollycoddling his step-mother and stood up to her.

Poor Marty wanders along The Parade. So lost in thought is he, that he fails to see Emily’s enormous front and bumps into her. Emily greets him, cheerily, and then turns back, remarking chattily on the fact that she understands that the Murrays are moving. Marty stops, puzzled. Where did Emily get that idea?

Emily informs him that Dire told her.

Well, Dire is wrong, says Marty stridently. And continues purposefully on his way home.

Quashed in his pursuit, Plank sits back at the bar table with Tim. He’s following the favourite Murray pastime of whingeing. That Christy does get on his nerves, he moans to Tim. He thinks he’s some big scally, after having spent only 6 months in a Borstal.

Sensing an ally, Tim temptingly asks Plank if he’d like to teach Christy a lesson. Tim has an idea and he needs Plank’s help. If things go according to plan, they could put Christy in his place and Plank would have enough dosh to finance his mum’s IVF. (Does ANYTHING ever go right for Tim?)

Again, Marty the Martyr has returned to the Close and stands outside, gazing at his house.

He finally summons enough courage to enter, and Dire comments on the fact that he’s home early from work. Marty mumbles in a weary tone that the couple couldn’t go on this way. He tells her, rather pointedly, that he’d just run into that Emily Shadwick - er, O’Leary - er, what’s her name, who informed him that his family were moving.

Dire begins to witter something about having spoken to estate agents, but Marty interrupts her in full flow. The moving house bit, he says, was something DIRE had decided. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t going to happen. Dire should stop thinking of this IVF crap and realise that the family was falling to pieces around her ears because of this obsession.

Dire, who has her own agenda planned, simply won’t listen. What Marty was talking was utter rubbish! Oh, she knows that she and Adele have had words, but ...

Marty finally gives vent to his true feelings. It’s time Dire stopped this stupid obsession with having a baby, he shouts at her. He priorities are all wrong. It’s time she realised that the living were of infinitely more importance than something that was only an idea in her mind. NO MORE IVF! Get the picture? It was simply destroying his family, his children.

He meant every word he said, he promised her. Now he wasn’t asking, he wasn’t begging, he was telling her ... He had gone as far as he could go with this IVF lark. Now it’s over and done with. Finished. NO MORE!