Let that be a lesson to the likes of some people who post on the Official Forum (no danger of them reading the full extent of these summaries - they simply find the vocabulary beyond their ken). No danger of mentioning names - they know who they are and can’t spell their own names lots of the time. But I’ll give you a hint: One will read this, well, at least the first page, because she has no attention span; and will then import whatever idea of my own I have listed onto the Official Forum as her own. Oh, and before I forget, she’ll take advantage of next weekend to start another flame war. Some people just WILL NOT LEARN!
Why?
Because they don’t read. Notice, I said they DON’T read. They can, but they simply can’t be arsed. They are the type who do jack shit on a stick all the livelong day and then watch the television or click onto the Internet to read a bit of various forums, only to import various other people’s ideas and opinions as their own.
If they were educated, they’d realise that this was plagiarism, and in certain publishing instances, it can be punishable by law. But these people are probably too busy purporting to look after three year-old future thugs of England to be arsed about anything not two inches in front of their narrow-minded little noses.
Well, this is how Jacqui Farnham, a jumped-up poor white scouser who married well, found herself up the duff. She plopped the kids in front of the telly for a couple of hours and neglected to read the labels of her antibiotics.
So, without further adieu., LEZ get to the summary ... And pay attention at the back!!! There’ll be discussions afterwards on Alan’s and Annabelle’s forums.
The episode opens with a series of short, interludes, sans dialogue, setting the scene for the characters emphasised in this episode.
The programme opens in the Farnham abode. It’s morning and Max has just made a fresh pot of coffee. He tastes it, as his wife frantically takes a business call in the background.
Antony Murray sits, shirtless, on the side of his bed, lost in a reverie of remembrance. He’s reliving the sounds of his last encounter with Imelda in his head. We hear the sounds of water splashing and shouts and laughter. Suddenly the alarm clock by the side of Antony’s bed sounds, and the boy is shocked into the present day.
Next door at Hotel Corkhill, Tim is also on the telephone as Jerome, Nikki and Emily go about their morning routine.
Back at Sitcom House, Antony readies himself for what must be one of the last days of school before the Easter break. He stands in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie. He stops suddenly, and the camera focuses on the boy’s tragic eyes.
Over at Naughty Nurse Towers, Katie is preparing for her first day in the lofty position as Head Receptionist. Nisha is scurrying about getting ready too, but Lady Muck, standing immobile at the ironing board, is deep in the philosophy of breakfast television.
We visit Chateau Farnham once again, as Jacqui and Max supervise the children’s breakfast. Max tells Jacqui that he’ll pick the kids up from Rachel after they’ve had their tea, while Jacqui is distracted in thinking about the bar. Max is concerned about that, and follows her into the lounge area.
Max is clearly baffled as to how Jacqui managed to fall pregnant, when she was supposed to be on the Pill. Jacqui tells him that it stems from the time after their skiing holiday when she had the chest infection. Apparently, according to Dr Parr, some antibiotics reduce the effectiveness of the Pill, and hers was one of them. She simply neglected to read the label, that’s all. Maybe she should have done so. (The classically pathetic excuse of the ignorant).
Max asks Jacqui how she’s feeling. Jacqui admits that she’s feeling queasy, but a lot of that is down to the stress she’s been under lately. Now Jacqui has a special request to make of Max.
Now that the couple have had the weekend to let the news of the new arrival sink in (apparently, it’s Monday), Jacqui aks Max not to say anything to anyone about the pregnancy just yet.
Max is left perplexed.
It’s a beehive of activity at Hotel Corkhill. Tim is engrossed on a telephone call to Plank Murray about drumming up business for his man-and-a-van enterprise, whilst Plank is imploring his help on a motor job (legit, of course).
Nikki enters into the scene, approaching Jerome. She’s going to the hospital to see Jimmy later that day, and she wants to know if Jerome will accompany her.
Jerome glances up at her reluctantly. He’s got to work at the bingo club, he says, sullenly.
What about Emily? Nikki asks her sister, who’s getting ready to go to work.
Emily is adamant in her refusal. She won’t be going. It does her head in to visit that place, all the loonies groaning and moaning in the background.
Nikki, trying to appear compassionate, tells Emily that most of the people in hospital with Jimmy were, like him, lonely and bored; but Emily is determined that she’s not going to go. It gives her the creeps even thinking about a place like that.
Looking in Tim’s direction, he offers the excuse about having to drum up business for his new trade that afternoon. He wouldn’t be going.
Helplessly, Nikki looks at Jerome again for support. Jerome shakes his spider-head, determinedly. He wants nothing to do with Jimmy’s problems, he announces.
Over at the Farnhams’, Max is trying to reason with his wife. The two of them have to find time to plan the future, now that Jacqui’s pregnant.
Jacqui is determined to avoid discussion of the issue at the moment. She simply can’t think about it. She reminds Max that Ron is due to be released next week, and she and Bev have meetings to attend with solicitors about the bar. There are contracts to be sorted out and signed.
Max urges Jacqui to stop and think about her predicament, but Jacqui insists that she has to remain focused on the bar. After all, the bar won’t make money without adequate supervision.
Jimmy lies rigidly on his back in his hospital bed, arms neatly at his side, in the stereotypical pose of a hospital patient. The camera pans to focus on a get-well card on the small chest beside his bed, reading ‘Get Well, Granddad’. Presumably this is from Cabbage-Patch Kylie.
Sammy remains on her own in the NNT flat. She approaches the fridge in search of something to eat. She finds the fridge empty. She removes a tube of cheese spread and squeezes a bit onto her finger, licking it clean.
Left alone in Hotel Corkhill, Jerome faces Nikki down about their financial situation. He wastes no time in telling Nikki that he’s not at all chuffed to receive a paltry £500 from Jessie as his insurance pay-out from the fire.
Nikki agrees that she isn’t best pleased with the situation either, but Jerome callously accuses her of not standing her ground with her grandmother. Oh, no. What did Nikki do? She went belly-up to Jessie as soon as Jessie agreed to pay Nikki’s tuition fees. So, in other words, Nikki got what she wanted from Jessie, to hell with anyone else.
(A point for discussion: I don’t understand why Jerome isn’t hitting his supermodel mother for some dosh or for a hand-out. Discuss, please. Oh, and for the benefit of Miss02 on the Official Forum, the latest actress to play Vonnie was NOT a scouser).
Jerome continues. In his valued and appropriate opinion, Jessie was no less than stingy. The old bag, he says remorselessly, has only just now shown her true colours.
Well, Nikki defends herself, lamely, she did try to reason with Jessie.
Jerome scoffs. He wants nothing to do with Jessie and her ilk, he maintains.
Jacqui is now at the bar, talking frantically to some decorators/designers about the new layout of the bar, whilst Bev, with a wistful look, gazes silently on the scene. Jacqui passes wordlessly by Bev, telling the decorator that she wanted the front section of the bar to be used as a coffee bar during the day. Actually, she’s saying, she wanted that done the first time around ...
As Jacqui passes, Bev surreptitiously opens a card she’s holding. It’s from Lance, offering his best wishes.
Jerome is still chastising Nikki for what he deems to be her past stupidity. Nikki, he says, was stupid to knock back the grand that Tim and Emily offered her. As far as his amorality goes, Jerome is unable to see the difference between a grand from Emily as opposed to a grand from that old sow, Jessie.
Nikki primly replies that Emily’s money was dirty money. (Ah, but does Jerome know that she begged Emily for the money after the money was gone?)
Oh, and by the way, Nikki reveals, her grandmother expects Nikki and Jerome to move back in with Jessie and Ray when the bungalow is rebuilt.
Jerome vehemently declines the offer.
But, Nikki protests, Jessie would be absolutely gutted if they didn’t move back in.
Jerome laughs grimly. Nikki, he says, is labouring under the misguided assumption that Jessie is a frail, old lady, when she’s anything but. And, he reckons that Jessie will get her own back off them in rent, if they did move back.
Nikki is forced to admit that Jessie has told her that she would expect the couple to pay rent.
Jerome remarks bitterly that he would rather live in a tent.
Antony finds no respite from the sounds of his last struggle with Imelda, not even as he loiters in the hall at school.
Back at Hotel Corkhill, Nikki bewails her current jobless fate to Jerome. She simply has to find some paid work, she moans. (Won’t have to wait long, Nikki, the bar’s open soon).
Jerome snorts briefly. He supposes that Jessie banged a gong about Nikki working as well.
The couple’s discussion is interrupted by the loud arrival of Tim and Emily. Emily enters, bearing a certificate of some sort, qualifying her as some sort of nail specialist. She’s got some good news. That Joanne one who owns the salon’s only gone and given her a £30 per week rise. AND that’s not all ...
Joanne, she says, is talking about expanding the premises, opening a chain of salons across Liverpool. And when she does, Emily brags, Emily’s bound to be the manager of one of Joanne’s nail bars. Of course, Joanne hasn’t told Emily anything of the sort yet, but Emily knows it’s bound to happen. In the meantime, Joanne’s given Emily some store vouchers as a reward for her progress.
After delivering this demented soliloquy, Emily stops and stares at Nikki and Jerome.
‘WELL,’ she prompts. But she gets no reply from either of the scrounging students.
‘"Congratulations" might be in order,’ Emily says, exasperated.
Without further adieu and assisted by Tim, Emily ceremoniously removes Jimmy’s cherished picture of Cracker, remarking that it was depressing to have a picture of a dead dog looking down upon them. As she does this, she notices the grim looks of Nikki and Jerome and asks why the two have such long faces.
Nikki mutters that Jerome has decided that he doesn’t want to move back into the bungalow when it’s rebuilt.
Tim supports Jerome’s decision. He wouldn’t want to live with Ray and Jessie either, he asserts. Something about Ray’s Bovril.
And, inserts Nikki, as another nail is driven into Jerome’s coffin, Jerome had refused Jessie’s offer of money as well.
Madam turns around from her efforts in trying to hang the picture and pertly remarks that that money wasn’t meant for Jerome anyway.
Jerome retorts that he lost everything he had in that fire, except a poxy bingo jacket.
Emily sneers that the bingo jacket was actually the pick of Jerome’s wardrobe, but Jerome replies by asking her how she would feel if Jimmy’s place went up in smoke and she lost all her poxy music and her slapper gear.
Emily is so upset by this last remark, that she bangs her finger whilst trying to hang her picture and ruins her nail extension. Immediately, Nikki and Tim lead her off to the kitchen water tap to administer first aid.
Max stops briefly by the bar to interrupt Jacqui’s telephone conversation with her solicitor. He tells her that he’s booked a table for two at The Shelf at lunchtime. They have a lot to discuss.
Jacqui briefly informs Max that she has a meeting with the soliticors, as Bev stands, silently surveying the scene.
Max joins Bev, as Bev watches Jacqui deal with three things at once, talking to the solicitor and directing the workmen and decorators at the bar. Bev wistfully remarks to Max that this reminds her of herself two years ago, when she took over the bar - shouting orders down the phone and to everyone else. Now look at Bev, she bewails.
But Max is worried. Jacqui has a lot on her mind, he says. He think she looks strained.
Max remarks to Bev that he’s going to have to start looking for a good maitre d’ at The Shelf, and Bev immediately has an idea. She’s only just this morning received a card from Lance. Why, Lance would be the perfect maitre d’ for Max’s restaurant.
Max is bemused. He thought Lance had a good job at a restaurant in town. Bev dismisses that fact. Lance, she says, is much too over-qualified to pull pints and now he’s left that job. Bev admits that she suggested to Jacqui that morning that Lance come back to work at the bar, and Jacqui literally bit her head off. But Lance would be good at The Shelf, she says, persuasively.
Even Max had to admit, Bev says, that Lance was good with customers, and when did Lance ever let Max down?
This is true, admits Max, but the fact remains that Lance’s surname was Powell, and he didn’t think Jacqui would be too receptive to the idea of Lance working for Max.
So Jacqui actually wears the kex in the Farnham family? Bev sneers.
Max begs Bev not to mention anything about this conversation to Jacqui. She’s under far too much stress already.
It’s break-time at school and children are leaving. Unable to cope with his guilty secret anymore, Antony looks apprehensively around the schoolyard. He spies several big rubbish skips and secures a hidden place behind one of them, where he bursts into tears.
Jacqui enters the Walk-In Clinic and passes the only patient waiting to be seen in reception, Emily O’Leary. She walks directly to the reception desk to congratulate her manipulative mate, Katie.
Katie plays down the congratulations, saying that her position is only temporary and covering sick leave.
Well, Jacqui says, encouragingly, now’s the time for Katie to prove herself.
Katie asks Jacqui how her newest business venture is progressing., and Jacqui admits that it’s tiring her out. She’d forgotten how strenuous starting a business from scratch could be. At the moment, there were scores of work on the bar’s lease.
(Hang on a bit. What happened to all this ‘our friendship is a sham’ business from Katie a few weeks back? Come on, explain this discrepancy to me!)
Meanwhile, Mike has stopped by the bar to give Bev a mass of hand-me-downs that a work colleague has given him for Josh. Bev admonishes Mike not to let on to Josh that these were cast-offs, or else the kid wouldn’t wear him.
Mike looks about the bar in astonishment, wondering how his little sister, with one O level in sagging off could come to own two businesses. As a matter of fact, he whinges unjustifiably to Bev, he’s certain that the extension being added to the Farnham household was, in reality, servants’ quarters for himself and Rachel. (Oh, put a sock in it, Mike! You’ve got it on a plate, man. Buck up your ideas!)
Now it’s Bev’s turn to have a moan about the bar. She was cringing with embarrassment at the thought of the opening in a few weeks. Why, there were certain to be a number of people attending who would remember her as having been the previous boss. And as for Jacqui, well, Jacqui was blanking her all day.
Mike protests that Jacqui was probably very busy.
Bev shakes her head, ruefully. She admits that she made a major mistake with the bar, and Jacqui caught her over a barrel. Now it will be Jacqui’s name above the bar.
Well, says Mike, expansively, what was the bar anyway, but a pile of bricks?
Bev smiles briefly, and Mike asks her to smile more. Amused, Bev now smiles broadly, and Mike compliments her on this.
This prompts Mike to begin another of Uncle Phil’s issue rants - dentistry on the National Health. Mike, it seems, has just come from the dentist, where he’s been quoted a replacement crown costing £80.00, of which he needed no less than three! Then there was root treatment, which was expensive, even though this was supposed to be on the NHS. (Yawn, you should have brushed your teeth and flossed more, Mike, and lay off the sweets).
Back at the Walk-In Clinic, Jacqui tells Katie that she’s made up for Katie’s promotion. She bids her good-bye and turns to go.
Suddenly, Katie commits another grand faux pas with regard to professional confidentiality. Forgetting the presence of Emily Shadwick in the waiting room, big-mouthed Katie blurts out that she knows that Jacqui is pregnant.
Emily’s ears visibly prick up.
Jacqui is shocked at the remark, but Katie assures her that she sussed things when Dr Parr asked that Katie schedule fom ante-natal appointments for Mrs Farnham. (OK, Jacqui, call in your debts. Complain to Gary Parr about this misadventure and get the wretch the sack).
Jacqui is rendered speechless. (And in hindsight, I think this was maliciously done by Katie).
Bev and Mike are ending their conversation with Bev thanking Mike for making her feel normal again. Mike advises Bev that the best thing she can do at the moment, is to put her pride on hold and get on with life. Bev admits that she’s doing what’s best for Josh, and she rewards Mike with a kiss.
Emily has finally been seen at the clinic for her critically ill banged finger ... but by none other than the Naughty Nurse, herself, much to Emily’s self-righteous chagrin. Emily is mouthing off about the length of time she had to wait, but Nisha reminds her that this IS the concept of a walk-in centre.
Emily has a whinge about mussing up her nail extensions and preens to Nisha about the fact that she’d soon be taking her exams at beauty college.
Nisha admits that she’s taking exams also, for the Nurse Prescriber’s course, and the exams take place on the 3rd of April. She found the prospect of improving her position interesting, but found the coursework boring.
Emily is impressed to know that she isn’t the only one bored by bookwork.
Yes, Nisha agrees, she’s often up all night studying.
Well, Emily quips, bitchily, Nisha must be used to that from the time she spent with Jerome.
(Is this funny ha-ha? No. It’s pathetic, and honestly, this episode is absolutely piss poor in comparison to last week’s!)
Nikki tentatively enters the ward where Jimmy’s resting in bed, holding Kylie’s Mr Stripes on his stomach. At first, Nikki takes a seat a reasonable distance away from Jimmy’s bed, but Jimmy, glad of her company, beckons her closer. He won’t bite, he promises.
Nikki politely asks how Jimmy’s feeling, and Jimmy admits he’s a bit Duke of Yorkish (Fat? Pompous? Out of touch with reality? Well, the last two are certainly true). He explains that this means he’s like the Grand Old Duke of York in the rhyme - neither up nor down. Middling, is the word. That’s because of the lithium, he explains to his most fervent disciple.
Nikki tells Jimmy that she’s brought him some clean underwear and some soap - grainy soap for exfoliation, something she’s learned from Emily’s beauty course.
Jimmy admits that he thinks he needs something for potential bed sores.
She’s also brought Jim some books to read from the charity shop; one’s actually a best-seller. (Does Jimmy care? Does he read? CAN he read?)
Jimmy is pleased, remarking that this was better than the fruit Lindsey had brought him.
Nikki asks Jimmy how the visit of Kylie and Lindsey went, and Jimmy admits sadly that it was bittersweet.
Back at Brookie Comp, the increasingly miserable Antony seeks refuge in the toilet cubicle, only to be regaled by Imelda’s ghostly voice inside his head. He hears her issue one of her last threats again to him:
‘It doesn’t matter if I’m excluded forever. I’ll get you. I know where you are.’
Then he hears the familiar hollow, ghostly laugh. Thinking absurdly, that someone might be outside in the urinal area, Antony creeps from the cubicle. He sees no one and he hears only the laughter of living children nearby.
Poor, pitiful Katie, filled with her own new-found self-importance, returns briefly to the flat to encounter Sammy, who’s got a day off, lolling about in a state of squalor. Katie is not impressed and warns Sammy that she wants to see the flat spotless on her return.
Sammy moans that she doesn’t want to spend her day off doing housework, and Katie retorts that she doesn’t want to come home after a day’s work only to DO housework. The place was a tip; didn’t Sammy ever think about the effect this mess might have on Louise?
Louise is cool about the mess, Sammy asserts.
And speaking of Louise, Katie reminds her, what about picking Louise up from her school?
At that moment, Nisha enters, having a royal whinge about having to treat Emily O’Leary’s banged finger. She barges in on the Sammy-Katie barney and wants to know what’s going on.
Trying to shame her sister into action, Katie tells Nisha that she was just reminding Sammy that she had to pick Louise up after school. Sammy interjects that Louise is spending the afternoon at an after-school club.
And while they were on the subject of housework, says Nisha, joining the fray, she opens one of the bare cupboards, Sammy should try to do some shopping from time to time.
Nikki still sits chatting with Jimmy at the hospital. By way of small talk, Nikky remarks that it must have been good for Jimmy to have Lindsey here for the weekend. In fact, now that Jimmy needed House Support, maybe Lindsey would come back to look after him.
She wanted to do that, Jimmy confesses, but then again, all Lindsey could talk about was her new job. Suddenly, he begins to cry. He tells Nikki that it was he who encouraged Lindsey to take this job, and she enjoys her new life. He knows that she’d give it all up in a minute to come back and care for him, but he didn’t want her to come back.
Nikki reminds Jimmy that Lindsey had said that she wouldn’t mind coming back.
But Jimmy minds, he says, and Lindsey would only come to resent him. He adnits that he knows he’s barking, eccentric and generally looney, he says, welling with self-pity, but he doesn’t want to be a burden to anyone.
But, Nikki pursues, what about the stipulations of his release?
Well, Jimmy shrugs, when the doctor signs him off, Jimmy’s footloose and fancy-free.
Nikki, assuming her Dr Nikki guise (i.e. talking a lot of shit about which she knows nothing), reminds Jimmy that he has to have a mental health strategy set up. Jimmy, says the would-be shrink who needs a shrink herself, has had a tremendous shock to the system. What if the same thing happens again?
Jimmy assures his chief disciple that he’ll ensure that such an episode won’t happen again; he’ll remember to take his tablets.
But what if Jimmy forgets? Asks Dr Nikki, the picture of concern.
Oh, he won’t forget, Jimmy promises her. After all, he’s got his Community Psychiatric Nurse, as well as Dr Parr and his hospital out-patient appointments.
That’s not enough! Declares the fervently outraged (and increasingly ridiculous) Dr Nikki. Jimmy needs proper care! What about contacting Jackie? She suggests.
Jimmy refuses that option. (Actually, Nikki is too patently stupid to realise that Jimmy is being deliberately difficult here, refusing to allow any family member to provide him with adequate care. He’s making the proverbial rod for his own back, knowing full well that the medical authorities won’t allow him to reside on his own without adequate supervision. Does he realise he’ll be dependent on the care of strangers or is this a clever ploy on the stupid Nikki’s emotions? A point for discussion, perhaps? Have you got this idea understood, LEZ?)
Nikki is taken aback in consternation. If Jackie can’t be arsed to care for Jimmy, then his primary care will be left to the likes of strangers. So much for Care in the Community, the nonsensical girl spits. They could care less.
Herewith, Nikki enters upon a seriously po-faced Party Political Broadcast for the Student Whingers Party again. This bloody government! She rants. It’s the same with education. Pretty soon, says the girl whose mother earns a mint and gives it to her daughter to blow, a degree will only be obtainable for the privileged classes (like you, eh, Nikki?) And the people who REALLY need help (like those arseholes on benefit who swan around in designer gear, the dole cheats and lazy wotsits like Nikki and Jerome) are the first ones to suffer! (So, Uncle Phil, you’ll be joining the all-inclusive remodeled Tory Party, will you?)
(Let’s have a break so that all intelligent viewers who find Nikki Shadwick in her present form slightly more unbearable than a bleeding haemorrhoid can have a belly laugh! And all the tweenies on the Official Forum can collect their thoughts about how Nikki deserves her money!)
Jimmy the Sage, who is turning into a saintly martyr (it’s said that the insane are often close to God), benignly replies that he doesn’t need people worrying about him.
Back in the private confines of the Walk-In Centre, where Sammy has just popped in to share a cup of tea with her sister and the Naughty Nurse (as you do), the extremely professional Head Receptionist and the would-be Nurse Presciber are engaging in a wee bit of gossip about a registered patient of Dr Parr’s. Now, forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t a patient’s medical condition supposedly confidential between medical professionals and, therefore, not party to discussion with anyone other than the patient, him/herself? If so, Katie Rogers is a professional nothing, unless you want to qualify sadsack, thicko, and arsehole amongst her degree qualifications.
Of course, Katie is telling Nisha all about the fact that Jacqui’s pregnant. Nisha, warming to gossip and forgetting that this sort of thing could get her a written reprimand, as well as getting her struck off, wants to know how Jacqui took the news.
Oooh, remarks Katie, bitchily, and this woman is SUPPOSED to be Jacqui’s bezzy mate, Jacqui didn’t seem at all pleased with the news, and Katie can’t figure out why. Why, just look at Jacqui - two businesses on the go, one thriving and the other a potential moneymaker again, a nice husband with a good job, two kids and a lovely home. Why, she’s got the best of both worlds, and she’s still not happy.
Sammy enters the area, only to be viciously told off by Nisha, asking if she’d remembered to clean her cup. This isn’t the flat, Nisha sneers.
Sammy, however, has entered and just managed to hear the last of Nisha’s and Katie’s conversation, and she thinks the two were discussing her.
Nisha hastily informs her that they were discussing a patient of Gary Parr’s, surprisingly without naming names, although the two shouldn’t really have been discussing patients at all, should they?
Sammy, however, won’t be deterred and begins to moan about the fact that she’s misunderstood. Neither Nisha nor Katie have any clue about the problems she’s facing in her life.
Nisha assumes real bitch mode now. Sammy? Problems? The only problems Sammy seems to have at the moment is the fact that she only seems to be attracted to married men.
‘Sol won’t leave his wife for you, you know,’ Nisha barbs. ‘But you still want to go out with him.’
Sammy turns to leave in disgust and Nisha shouts after her about giving the flat a good clean before she and Katie return home. Sammy rejoinders, accusing Nisha of being worse than Jacqui Dixon, swanning around and giving orders.
Meanwhile, Jacqui FARNHAM has returned home, visibly distraught. Max meets her and is immediately concerned at the state she’s in. Jacqui tearfully tells him that Katie knows that Jacqui’s pregnant.
Well, Max suggests, maybe this might be the right time to discuss their predicament.
Jacqui studiously avoids the subject, saying that she doesn’t need any more pressure at this moment in time.
But Max insists that they talk about it. He only wants what’s best for Jacqui, he says, sincerely, and whatever Jacqui decides to do about the pregnancy, he’ll support her, and he gathers her protectively into his arms, Jacqui clinging to him desperately.
Antony Murray sits at home, immersed in his guilt.
Dimily are engrossed in beginning their decorating plans, and Jerome is busy doing nothing when Dr Nikki returns from doing her rounds. As soon as she enters the Hotel Corkhill sitting room, she announces that Jimmy’s going to be released soon. Jerome looks up at her briefly and non-committally. Tim remarks briefly and absently that it was nice that Jimmy was due home.
Nikki drops a hint. There would be no one to look after Jimmy when he’s released.
Yes, there will be, speaks Emily. There’s Lindsey. He could always go to Lindsey’s. (This is true).
He doesn’t want that, Nikki says, shortly. So there’s no one to except us to look after him.
The trio swiftly turn aboutface to confront Nikki.
‘No way!’ Shouts Tim. ‘This has nothing to do with me!’
Jerome concurs. There’s no way he’s going to be involved with anything like changing Jimmy Corkhill’s dirty nappies and wait for him to turn into something out of The Shining.
‘Listen to the lot of yez,’ proselytises the erudite and articulate university student, the well-spoken Ms Shadwick. ‘Have yez fergot what Jimmy’s doon fer yez, puttin’ a roof over yez heads?’
‘And what kinda happy pills are you on?’ Lectures Emily. Emily maintains that she isn’t about to take responsiblity for looking after some looney, END OF STORY.
Heather Robson wrote this, and it shows. It was banal, inane, ignorant and full of idealistic political tripe. Why Brookside employ this trite woman is beyond me. If anyone needs axing from the writing staff, its Ms Robson!
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002