Doubles. Twins. Alter egos. They abound. Just look at the Official Forum. The children and those of puerile mindset waste more time either accusing more serious posters of having multiple personalities, as well as trying to be clever, themselves, and causing havoc by posting as a doppelganger of someone more established.
Brookside seems to be developing a doppelganger bent of late - look at the three consecutive Mrs Farnhams - blonde, career-oriented, totally inept at childcare and home management. So what else is new? Mrs Farnham V is in serious danger of turning into Mrs Farnham II & III, with a dash of Mrs Farnham I & IV behind the wheel. Go figure the mathematics.
The Murrays: Working-class dad, rent-a-Catholic mum, oldest son a bit of a berk, serious, career-minded daughter, youngest son in trouble ... The Millennium Dixons.
Nikki Shadwick: frizzy perm, career-oriented, plans everything, selfish ... Jacqui Dixon.
Ray is Bing with a DIY slant. Brigid is a poor man’s Julia Brogan. Bev’s turning into last year’s doormat, and Rachel’s found a brain with the consistency of that of Kiev the Chicken’s. (And whatever happened to Kiev, I ask? BRING BACK KIEV!)
Morning beckons at Chateau Farnham. Max has taken up his resident post for the next two months, of standing outside the upstairs loo and listening to his wife reach her guts out into the toilet. Inside the loo, Jacqui’s bent double, paying homage to the porcelain god. (Psst! Lez! This means that she’s puking).
Jacqui finishes, and wipes her face. She leaves the loo suddenly, catching an over-protective Max in the act of eavesdropping. She glares at him, mumbling shortly that she hates morning sickness. It’s worse than the last time (probably because the last time she was paid £30k to have morning sickness).
Morning too, at NNT, poor, pitiful, stinky, greasy, smelly, malodorous Katie is frumping about the place with an ugly sour look on her face. The Naughty Nurse emerges, announcing that today’s the day she has to take her exam. However, poor Naughty Nurse, having imbibed too much during the weekend and the previous couple of days, is suffering from, in her own words, a ‘fuzzy head’. (Psst! Lez! This means Nisha has a hangover).
She remarks to Katie that Sammy never ceases to amaze Nisha. Sammy drinks a bucket of booze the night before, and she’s up and out at work before the rest of them. Suddenly, Nisha notices that poor, pitiful, rotten, stinking, filthy Katie is still in her rotten, stinking, filthy nightgown.
Nisha states the obvious that Katie isn’t dressed. She’s going to be late for work. She’s surely not planning on having ANOTHER day off?
Poor, pitiful, stinky, smelly, greasy Katie screws up her ski-jump face, narrows her little piggy eyes and snarls in shrill Scouse: ‘Have-yer-fergot-at-the-man-oo-killed-me-fiancy-s-gettin-is-freedoom-dis-Friday!’ Which is justifiable reason enough for the likes of poor, pitiful Katie not to even attempt to dress.
Max Farnham sits pensively in the cloudy, overcast morning, in the Farnham back garden, gazing sadly at the two trees planted in memory of Matthew and Emily Farnham. In the background, Jacqui, portable phone in hand glances out the back door at her husband, before turning away, as he looks around.
At Hotel Corkhill, Emily chances upon Dr Nikki, who’s preparing to go to visit Jimmy in hospital. Dr Nikki has got a belated Easter egg to give to Jimmy. Emily watches her silly sister in abject and total befuddlement, as Nikki happily and smugly makes ready for her visit.
Suddenly, Emily asks Nikki exactly why she’s proceeding with such a daft plan as wanting to be responsible for Jimmy. After all, Nikki’s boyfriend walks out on her because Nikki wants to waste her life looking after this nutter, who’s nothing to her at all. Emily admits she couldn’t understand Nikki’s motive. Why, no amount of money would tempt her ...
It’s not about money, declares Dr Nikki, piously.
Even so, remarks Emily. Jerome wasn’t much, but at least Jerome was normal. Nikki should be moving on with him, not tying herself to Jimmy.
The phone call Jacqui’s taking is from Ron, who’s being released the next day. The two discuss arrangements for Jacqui to pick up Ron as Max sits moodily in the foreground in the Farnham lounge. When Jacqui finishes the call, Max reminds her that she has yet to answer his question about the baby from the day before.
Jacqui, looking worried, asks Max if he wants her to have an abortion.
Max refuses to answer, but Jacqui presses the question, rephrasing it a bit. Does Max THINK she should have an abortion?
Max takes the politician’s option and replies that abortion is the woman’s choice, and he vows that he will support Jacqui, whatever SHE decides. (Max, as usual, is deferring choice).
Jacqui becomes irritated at this passing of the buck. She tells Max succinctly that she asked HIM, and now he’s saying he wants Jacqui to make the decision about their baby. (It’s called the BLAME factor, Jacqui. All men have to have someone to BLAME. Nothing is ever THEIR fault).
Max breaks and asks Jacqui if she wants to get rid of the baby. Jacqui finally admits that she doesn’t want to get rid of the baby; she just doesn’t want to be pregnant. (Go figure). Max’s face is a picture of confusion.
A rare event is about to occur. Dire Murray is on her way to work. MY GOD! As she walks along the Parade, she’s met by an anxious Emily, who tells her that two men in suits have just come out of the Salon.Dire remains calm and tells Emily to get the kettle on, as they go inside. Emily is worried. Joanne never said anything about any sort of businessmen showing up.
Dire tells Emily that she’s got other things on her mind. She’s worried about Antony, she confesses. He’s now saying that he doesn’t want to go to school. After the bullying had finished, she’d thought he would come out of his shell, but all he does is just sit in his room on his own.
(Er, isn’t that normal for Antony?)
Back at Chateau Farnham, it looks as though this true confession time is turning rapidly into a game of Truth or Dare. Max proclaims himself to be 45 years-old (cf: thread on Brooksider and also the Official Forum to see what Stephen Pinder thinks of his rapidly ageing character). He admits to Jacqui that he’s doubted whether or not he’d actually have the energy in a few years’ time to deal with the activities of a small child. (Er, sorry, Max, you’ll have THREE small children in a few years’ time). Then he re-considered: Why not just have the baby? He tells Jacqui that he reckoned. Then, seeing her troubled face, he hurriedly adds that whatever decision SHE makes, he’ll support her fully. But, he adds, he had thought that it would be nice to have made a baby the natural way this time, with no aid whatsoever from a turkey baster.
Jacqui blinks back some tears in her large, emotive eyes and utters her stock phrase of late, declaring that she can’t seem to ‘get me’ead round it’. She then proceeds to re-write history in its entirety, by telling Max that the last time she was pregnant - with Harry - she was really pleased. It seemed the right thing at the time. (TOO right - £30k right! She was never that pleased to be pregnant with Harry; as I recall, she got as far as the steps to the abortion clinic, supported by Katie, before she decided to be philanthropic about everything).
Now, she continues, she’s got so much that she has to do - the Health Club and forming its creche, getting the bar back up and running ... Oh yes, and lest she forget, there’s Harry and Emma and Max. She tells Max that ever since she was a young girl, she’d planned every aspect of her life. She saw what she wanted and went after it. She wanted to swim for the county, and that, she did. She wanted to be a lifeguard, and that, she did. She wanted her own business, so she slept with Katie’s boyfriend ... Er, no, she GOT her own business.
She is, in short, Mrs Control, and she’s got duped by her own arrogance in forgetting to do something as simple as reading a label. (Let that be a lesson to you, Lez, READING is important). The thing that’s stymied her now with this pregnancy is that it was totally unplanned, and - as such - beyond her control.
Seeking to end the discussion, she briefly tells Max that she’s left a note for Rachel, and she has to go to work.
Max suggests that perhaps Jacqui should take the day off, put her feet up and relax. THEN, maybe she would begin to ‘get her head round’ the fact that she was pregnant; but Jacqui ignores his suggestion and leaves the room in order to leave the house. Max is left, looking increasingly frustrated.
Next door at the Dixons’, Rachel is finishing giving Beth her breakfast. Mike has been suffering from toothache, it seems, but now it’s better. Noticing the absence of Ray and Jessie, he asks their whereabouts. Rachel tells him that the couple have gone furniture-shopping. Fancy that, remarks Rachel the Dim, shopping for furniture before they’ve even begun rebuilding their house. Speaking of which, had Mike got round to mentioning to Ron yet that he had lodgers?
Mike sheepishly admits that he hasn’t, but he plans on telling his dad on the way home from prison tomorrow.
Anyway, continues Rachel, beginning to bustle, she has to get over to the Farnhams’ and Harry and Emma. Oooh, know what? She remembers. She ran into Bev the other day. Bev only wanted Rachel to help our with Josh of the evenings, whilst Bev worked at the bar.
Mike eyes Rachel with a concerned look. ‘You didn’t knock her back?’ He asks, accusingly.
Well, yes, says Rachel, she did. She’s already looking after Harry and Emma during the day, and it wasn’t as if Bev was even prepared to pay her -
Makes no difference! Objects Mike. Bev’s family and Josh is his son. If Rachel couldn’t be bothered to do the right thing by Bev, he would, himself.
Rachel scoffs at that idea. Why, Mike couldn’t do that! He was working nights. How would he manage?
Mike vows that he’ll find a way to do so. (Er, isn’t Granddad Ron due home? What about Ray and Jessie?)
Meanwhile, at the Clinic, Nisha is nervously preparing to depart for her exam, when Dr Parr stops her. He remarks that he was surprised that she came in this morning, before leaving for the ‘eyes down’.
Nisha is worried. She voices concern about the fact that she should have studied more, especially this last weekend (when she was rat-arsed drunk, which she subtly omits mentioning to Dr Parr).
He assures her that she’s ready for the exam; in fact, he’s even got her a good-luck present and presents her with what looks like a model of some knee joint. Oh, and by the way, he asks, where’s Katie?
Nisha hastily explains that Katie will be in later. (Must be nice to work for the NHS and show up whenever you feel like it ... Or don’t, in Katie’s case).
Dr Parr then surprises Nisha by offering to give her a lift to the exam.
Rachel cannot believe that Mike is actually expecting her to take on the responsibility of caring for Josh as well as Beth and the two Farnham children. She is strongly adamant that there is no way possible that she can help Bev in that respect. Why, she already has three small children to care for during the bulk of the day. Her evenings are meant to be for her to rest and recharge her batteries. She doesn’t need another child during that time.
Mike pokes out his stubborn chin and declares belligerantly that if Rachel won’t look after Josh, then he will.
Rachel again begins to witter about maybe when Bev’s making regular money, she MIGHT change her mind about looking after the boy; but until then, Bev was skint. It wasn’t as if Bev had offered to pay her anyway. And besides, Mike’s only taken an interest in Josh right now. Before, Josh was always Ron’s responsibility.
Josh is Mike’s son, he insists; and he feels bad about Rachel knocking Bev back in preference to Harry and Emma, just because Jacqui and Max paid her.
Rachel looks like she feels like a smelly piece of cheese.
Back at NNT, poor, pitiful, stinky, sweaty, grimey, greasy Katie, dressed in her filthy, smelly nightie, gulps down a generous amount of gin.
As Bev walks along The Parade, she runs into Jacqui, who - considering what’s on her mind - isn’t in the best of moods. Jacqui sharply reminds Bev that the shop-fitters were working late that evening and it was up to Bev to be there to supervise them.
How late were they working? The new, chastened Bev answers.
As late as it takes to get this bar open as soon as possible, replies Jacqui the whirlwind bitch.
Bev takes this opportunity, a bad one, to broach the subject of working hours with Jacqui. She’d much appreciate it if Jacqui were to allow her to work a sort of flexible schedule, to ensure that she’s home with Josh when he’s there. In short, she only wants to work when the child’s at school.
Jacqui pertly reminds Bev that Jacqui only agreed to Bev working as her manager on a full-time basis.
But, Bev explains, she’s having a hard time finding someone to mind Josh. In reality, she can’t afford the rates some child-minders were asking. Now of Jacqui would only allow her to work flexi-hours to accommodate Josh to begin with -
As Mike Dixon approaches the two women from the background, Jacqui sharply remarks that SHE gets fed up with HER two children too, and that Bev’s private life was of no concern of hers. It’s up to Bev, she says, to sort it out.
And Jacqui flounces off in the direction of the Health Club.
Bev glares after her, as Mike approaches, remarking to Mike that his sister is a right bitch. She explains to Mike that she asked Jacqui if she could work flexi-hours in order to be home when Josh was there, and thereby, avoid paying childcare fees.
Giving Mike a pitiable look, Bev discloses that Rachel turned her down when she asked if Rachel would mind Josh. That put the screw on any child care for her.
Mike announces that that’s why he’s come to see her. Rachel told him what she did, and Mike is now here to tell Bev that HE’LL help out with Josh whenever he can. He’s here if she needs him.
Bev is overjoyed.
Upstairs at NNT, Katie, who’s a caricature of a drunk as her acting is so bad, is woozily trying to put her lippy on, in preparation for going to work. She greedily drinks up the last of the gin.
Mike and Bev have adjourned to a nearby bench on The Parade and are exchanging sob stories. Mike whinges that he’s got two kids, no car, debt problems. Why, they can’t even afford decent clothes for Beth, and they have to depend on hand-me-downs from Emma Farnham.
Bev reminisces about the time Josh got taken into care. It was her worst nightmare.
But, Mike reminds her, Ron got him back for her.
Bev admits that she would always be grateful to Ron for that. Still, she has a lot to be grateful for now - she’s got a job and she’s paid off all her debts, thanks to Mike’s bitch sister.
As they talk, a sodden Katie Rogers weaves unsteadily down the pavement of The Parade and drunkenly approaches the Clinic. Bev and Mike watch her wordlessly as she tries to manoeuvre the Clinic door.
Mike remarks that Katie’s reeling. Bev surmises that she must have raided the Clinic’s supply of happy pills. Mike agrees, thinking that Katie certainly does look spaced out.
Max is giving Rachel her final instructions for the childrens’ day, as Emma and Beth are seated at the Farnham table. Max gives Rachel a shopping list and asks if she wouldn’t mind doing the Farnham shopping again. Rachel agrees.
Glancing at the three toddlers, Max wonders aloud how Rachel manages to do the shopping with three children under the age of five.
Oooh, witters Rachel, she has their reins.
Max, however, decides that she should take a taxi back and gives her the taxi fare.
Rachel asks if he minds if she listens to some CDs during the day. Max doesn’t mind at all and invites her to use the DVD or video as she fancies.
Nisha has returned from her exam to find a blatantly drunk Katie in charge of the reception desk. Needless to say, Nisha is mortified. She demands to know what time Katie managed to arrive, but Katie is so spaced out she can only look about the place with a silly grin on her face.
Nisha hauls her up from the receptionists’ chair, bombarding her verbally about how Nisha had lied to cover Katie’s absence with Dr Parr. She shoves Katie into a medical examination room, telling her she’s not fit to be at work. Nisha shakes Katie briefly and asks her what she drank before she came to work.
Katie gets surly with her, but Nisha is adamant about getting some coffee down Katie’s throat. As she turns to begin making some, Dr Parr enters the exam room, demanding to know why no one is on reception and is surprised to see Katie sitting stupidly and swaying in the chair.
Nisha hastily explains that Katie’s had an ‘accident’ and attempts to stop him from coming further into the room, telling him that she’s got everything under control.
Immediately concerned upon hearing the word ‘accident’, Dr Parr approaches Katie, close enough to get a whiff of the odour of gin emanating from her. He recoils in distaste, as Nisha offers the lame explanation of Katie having fallen off her chair.
More likely, it’s alcohol poisoning, quips Dr Parr, harshly, turning on his heel to leave the room, and demanding that Nisha get Katie out of his sight.
A distraught Emily meets her sister Nikki, who’s just emerged from the garage. Nikki greets Emily, telling her - surprise, surprise - that Nikki’s just on her way to the hospital to visit - who else? - Jimmy.
Oh, Emily’s not at all concerned about that. Something far more important has happened, something that directly affects Emil’s future. Puzzled, Nikki stops and her eyes follow the direction in which Emily is pointing. She sees a ‘Sold’ sign boldly displayed outside the unit formerly known as Trina’s Tots (or Trona’s Tits, if you happen to be Bev).
It’s been sold! Emily exclaims, woefully.
It’s been up for sale for ages, Nikki remarks, unconcerned.
But this is the END for Emily. It puts paid to all her plans. That Joanne one, who owns the Salon, has missed her chance to expand and buy this unit. Why, Joanne could have made a mint by buying that unit and transforming it into a real posh salon, with aromatherapy and Emily managing the nail bar.
Nikki comforts her sister lightly, suggesting that perhaps Joanne might open another one elsewhere.
Instead of a salon, wails Emily, it’s only going to be another nursery.
Well, that can only mean business for Dire, says Nikki, cheerfully, all those mums popping in for cuts and blow-drys. That nursery just might pay Emily’s wages, but Emily won’t be consoled.
Upstairs at NNT, a decidedly unsympathetic Nisha is reading poor, pitiful, drunken, stinking, festering Katie the riot act. It’s time she sobered up, Nisha remarks, harshly. Gary Parr was right to order her out of his sight. Katie was a disgrace.
Nisha’s called Sammy at the Health Club, and Sammy rushes in, wanting to know what was so important that she was called away from a publicity meeting with Sol. Nisha points disgustedly at the swaying Katie. Sammy, too, is unsympathetic. She orders Nisha to get Katie into her room as soon as possible, preferably before Louise comes home. Sammy doesn’t want her daughter to see her like this.
Oh, remarks Nisha, sarcastically, but it’s all right for Louise to see Sammy in that condition.
Sammy defends herself, by saying that she’s got a right to be annoyed and concerned for Louise. Sammy has to go to London on Friday, and she was planning on leaving Louise in Katie’s care. What if Katie gets drunk.
Never mind Louise, Nisha says, roughly. Isn’t Sammy bothered that her sister’s blind drunk in the middle of the day in the middle of the week? Sammy is supposed to be here to support her sister, not run away for a day out in London. Didn’t Sammy realise that Katie just might get the sack because she showed up for work in this state? Nisha doesn’t bet for one moment that Dr Parr will give Katie her job back. Sammy should think seriously about cancelling London and staying here to help Katie.
Dire and Emily walk along the Parade, Emily whingeing non-stop about the fact that someone else had sneaked in and bought the old nursery. Bev joins them in the middle of Emily’s rant. As Emily dashes off to buy a soft drink, Dire explains to Bev that somehow Emily had convinced herself that the owner of the Salon planned on buying the old creche and expanding the salon. Now Emily is narked because someone else bought the premises and plans to continue a creche there.
Dire grumbles to Bev that she doesn’t know why Emily’s so upset; after all, it was Emily, not Dire, who’d just got a payrise.
As Bev and Dire take a break on a nearby bench, Emily joins them. Bev remarks on the Manor Park girl who’s gone missing, the student at Brookie Comp. What was her name?
Imelda Clough, pipes up Emily. Emily tells the other two women that she went to school with some of Imelda’s brothers. And a right bunch of scallies that lot were too, she adds, deprecatingly.
Bev says that she’s read in the paper that Imelda was expelled from Brookie Comp and the bizzies reckoned she’d run off to London.
Dire begins to look very uncomfortable.
Well, says Emily, if she’s anything like her brothers, she’ll get up to all sorts there. Drugs. Selling herself, the likes. She’ll probably end up being merr-dered by soom perr-verrt, finishes Emily.
Bev notices that Imelda was the same age as Ant. Did he know her? She asks Dire.
Dire rises from the bench, abruptly ending the conversation. No, Ant didn’t know her, she lies.
Still, says Bev, she WAS only a kid.
And Dire has her own kid to worry about, she informs them primly, as she marches purposely in the direction of the Close.
Dr Nikki pokes her frizzy head around the door to Jimmy’s hospital room. Jimmy greets her cheerfully as she waggles the chocolate egg in front of him as his Easter surprise. Jimmy pretends not to know what’s inside, as Nikki urges him to open it, telling him that it’s late for Easter, but it was still a gift.
Now Dr Nikki has another, even bigger, surprise for Jimmy. Dr Reese, who’s a real, dyed-in-the-wool shrink (something that Nikki will never be), says that she and Jimmy are due for a meeting with Jimmy’s support team in 10 minutes, in order that they all might discuss how to play Jimmy’s convalescence at home.
Suddenly, Jimmy, unshaven and contriving to look vulnerable, is reluctant to leave the room, let alone the hospital. He doesn’t want to burden Dr Nikki with his full-time care.
Nonsense, says Dr Nikki, brusquely. SHE’LL take care of everything. All Jimmy has to do is get himself spruced up in order to make a good impression on the trick cyclists. (Lez, that’s slang for shrink).
Jimmy shyly confesses to Dr Nikki that he’s made oop that she’s going to be his carer. (Heh, heh, I’ll bet he is). In fact, Jimmy tells Dr Nikki that he thinks she’s BRILLIANT. Dr Nikki basques in his praise, confident that she’s a psychological genius.
Mike Dixon is stretching out on the Dixon sofa, preparing to chill out, when the doorbell rings. He answers the door as his sister barges into the room. Mike explains that he was just about to relax for awhile.
‘Oh, well,’ huffs Jacqui, sarcastically, ‘it’s all right for some.’ (Implying that Mike, lazy arsehole that he is, isn’t entitled to rest even more than he does already).
Mike defends himself by reminding Jacqui that he works 12-hour shifts 6 nights a week, and for peanuts too. Then Mike informs Jacqui that he’s spoken to Bev and he’s dismayed by the way Jacqui’s treated Bev’s childcare dilemma.
Jacqui’s distinctly unsympathetic to Bev’s plight. Bev’s child was her problem. If she couldn’t afford childcare, maybe she shouldn’t work. Besides, she only came over to remind Mike that Ron was being released the next day at 8AM sharp. And by the way, had Mike ever got round to telling Ron that Ray and Jessie were staying at the Dixon house?
Mike admits that he has yet to tell Ron, which worries Jacqui. What if Ron rings again that evening, asking about the house?
Mike promises to tell Ron on the way home tomorrow, but Jacqui knows that Ron won’t like sharing his home with the Hiltons. If anything, she says, he’ll go ballistic.
Back at the hospital, Dr Nikki announces that her prize and only patient is being released the next morning. Together, she and Jimmy have succeeded in convincing what I can only imagine to be over-worked and incompetent medical personnel of the feasibility of allowing a mediocre psychology undergraduate student with no common sense complete responsibility over a fifty-something ex-con drug addict, convicted criminal and manic depressive. We can all sleep safer in our beds at night, knowing Dr Nikki’s abroad in the world, fighting injustice and healing the sick.
Jimmy asks Nikki if she’s sure about taking on the task of being his carer? What about her university studies?
Nikki’s confident about being able to cope with both Jimmy and her studies; besides, she says, lying uncomfortably, she’ll get help from the likes of Dimily.
Jimmy mentions the fact that Jerome’s done one, primarily because of Nikki’s association with Jimmy.
Jerome’s doing a big sulk, says Nikki, confidently, and after he’s finished that, he’ll be back. Besides, he’s only sulking because he expected to get a big sum of money from Ray and Jessie’s insurance claim, and he didn’t.
What about the others? Jimmy asks, suspiciously.
Nikki lies, uneasily, telling Jimmy that both Tim and Emily were looking forward to Jimmy coming home.
Jimmy senses she isn’t being entirely honest with him, and tells Nikki once again, that he doesn’t want to be a burden to her. That’s why he told Lindsey to go. He doesn’t want to stand in the way of Nikki living her life. She was young, she had a future. After all, he’d get by on his Community Support. (Sniff, sniff. Poor Jimmy, playing the sympathy card).
Nikki assures Jimmy that he didn’t come between her and Jerome breaking up.
Jacqui returns home, after a gruelling day swanning around, to find a tense Maxim. As she enters the Farnham lounge, Max remarks sarcastically that he certainly hopes she’s got everything in her little business empire under control, especially as it gives her the excuse to hide her head in the sand over this pregnancy.
Turning to face Jacqui, Max demands that the couple discuss their dilemma here and now.
Jacqui asks two incredibly stupid questions of her husband. First, why is he so uptight? Second, why is this baby so important to Max? After all, she continues, he’s got four kids already - and two in Canada that he hardly mentions.
Max suddenly wells to boiling point with emotion. Ah, but Jacqui’s forgetting the two trees in the back garden, he says pointing out the back door. Didn’t she realise that it was five years ago that Matthew and Emily were killed? What had he left of them, except a few photos and two trees?
He shows Jacqui a photo of the children taken together with Max and Susannah shortly before their fatal accident. It’s not got any better in five years, he says. They’re there, always in the back of his mind. And he remembers everything about that incident too - the pointless, stupid waste of the whole thing.
‘Don’t you dare question the importance of this baby after losing those two children!’ Max threatens. Then he softens and tells Jacqui that the only good thing to come out of Matthew’s and Emily’s deaths was the fact that he and Jacqui had had Harry.
Jacqui looks guilt-stricken. She humbly apologises to Max and admits that she shouldn’t have said those things. The couple share a long and clinging embrace.
Nisha has returned to the surgery and enters Dr Parr’s office. He is interested in knowing how well she did on her exam and asked her how it went.
Nisha isn’t too confident. She admits that she probably spent too many late nights carousing and didn’t have enough revision. She probably could have done more.
Dr Parr wonders caustically if all the three women seem to do in that flat upstairs is drink.
Stung to the core by his rebuke, Nisha asks him what’s to happen with Katie.
Dr Parr gives Nisha a cold, hard look. Well, actually, he confesses, this latest incident has put him in a tough position. He couldn’t see the viability in keeping someone like that on in a position of trust.
Look, Nisha begins frantically, in a patently stupid argument, if Dr Parr wants to blame anyone, blame Ron Dixon around the corner for Katie’s relapse. (Oh, right, so Ron’s expected to move away from his home just so Katie can have a two-bit receptionists’ job. I’ve heard it all).
She was drunk at work, noticeably so, quips Dr Parr, sternly. As such, she was a disgrace. AND, he adds, tossing Katie’s personal file at Nisha, she already has one written warning.
It’s all in her file.
(Personally, I find this discovery by Dr Parr too unreal. Wouldn’t he have had occasion to peruse Katie’s personal file when she applied for the position of Head Receptionist? And surely this knowledge, along with her excessive absences and late showings to work, would have precluded her from such a promotion? Please discuss on the forums).
Nisha begins to beg earnestly that Dr Parr reconsider sacking Katie. He needs to view her as a victim here, a patient, if you will. She needs help and treatment. She really needs this job, pleads Nisha.
No, she doesn’t. She really needs to get the sack from Brookside. And soon. Let’s start a ‘Sack Diane Burke’ campaign. Any volunteers, start a thread on Brooksider or the Official Forum.
Barry Woodward wrote this piece of tripe.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002