WHINGE
That’s the operative word for the first Brookside episode of the week. Whinge. As in ‘moan’ or ‘complain’. The Aussies refer to the Brits as whingeing Poms. Well, I reckon the ‘whingeing’ bit refers to most of the scallies who emigrated to Oz.
From the minute the show began on Wednesday to the moment the end credits rolled, it was one perpetual MOAN, modified by the Murrays’ intensified and disgusting desire to rut, and not only to rut, but to rut in public.
I am making a formal request to Phil Redmond on the Official Forum for the immediate sacking of Bernadette Nolan. Not only is her character highly unsympathetic and unlikeable, but her loud, shrieking voice is giving me a headache, not to mention the fact that the slap that she applies to her face is so thickly caked, she must use the services of a chisel and a drill crew to remove it. In this infertility storyline, we are supposed to empathise with the unfortunate woman longing for a child; but instead, we find ourselves praying nightly to whatever God we espouse, that the wretch doesn’t give birth, because it would mean another mean-minded and bigoted, little, religious hypocrite was entering the world.
Now, that’s the end of my whinge ...
Morning has broken, like the first morning. Blackbird has spoken, like the first day, or something like that. Anyway, it’s another day for you and me in Paradise ... Think twice. It’s Brookside Close.
The Sage is seen making a phone call in the lounge of Hotel Corkhill. The phone rings and rings, but no one answers. The Sage hangs up.
Across the Close, Ron Dixon’s recovered from the previous week spent in his bed. He stands on the doorstep at Hotel Farnham and rings the doorbell. Max’s face appears at the front window, peering in exaggerated pantomime fashion, through the Venetian blinds. He’s not happy to see Ron.
Back at Sitcom House, Adele Murray, shot from the waist up to hide her fat, wobbly belly, gazes lovingly out the front window at the sound of screeching tyres and revving motors.
Returning to Hotel Corkhill, it’s a beehive of activity. In the foreground, we see Tim quickly grab a bacon buttie and stalk off with the sarnie hanging out of his mouth. Jimmy’s on the phone again. As Nikki enters the lounge, Jimmy mentions that he’s phoning Helen. He’s been trying to get in touch with her since early in the morning, but there’s no reply. He ends the call again - the answerphone’s still on.
Jimmy explains to Nikki that he’s decided that it’s time he told Helen the whole truth about his illness.
Nikki, however, is only half-listening. She’s scurrying about because today is the day for Jimmy’s Outpatients’ appointment, and they’re running late. Has Jimmy taken his tablets? She asks, brusquely.
Yes, Jimmy replies dutifully.
And his lithium book and outpatients’ card, where are they? Dr Nikki wants to know, rummaging through the counter drawers until she finds the items. They have to go.
But Jimmy insists on ringing Helen again.
No, snaps Nikki. He can ring her later.
Never mind, obliges Jimmy. He’ll try ringing her from the hospital.
Ron has entered Chateau Farnham and promptly made himself at home. The kids are playing and Max and Jacqui are trying to get them ready for probably spending the day at Rachel’s yesterday. As Ron settles himself comfortably into one of the Farnham’s easy chairs, Jacqui enters the lounge from upstairs. She’s wearing another Mel Owen original top, scooped wide V-neck and very decolletage. She looks perturbed, but she’s surprised to see Ron there so early in the morning.
Ron explains that it was like a cattle market next door at Number 8.
Jacqui moves into the Farnham kitchen, followed by Max, close on her heels. Max is like a kettle ready to boil over. Did Jacqui realise that Ron seemed to ALWAYS be over at theirs these days? Max asks in exasperation. Why, he was over at the Farnhams’ no less than THREE times the day before! Max begins a mild rant. He couldn’t WAIT to move to a bigger place, preferably a considerable distance from Ron Dixon.
Jacqui tells Max, firmly but gently, as she begins to prepare the childrens’ breakfast, that she doesn’t want to discuss moving now.
What is she talking about, Max exclaims. This is the perfect time of year to move. In fact, Max was of a mind to knock back that latest tender for the extension.
Jacqui tells Max, with finality, that she doesn’t need this hassle right at this minute, but Max tells her that Ron is driving him mad.
Dire and Marty Murray are preparing for a rare occurrence. They are BOTH going to do a day’s work. Marty looks out the front window at the strange car parked outside, with the motor revving. Dire notices it too. Wonder who THAT is? She asks with disdain.
Probably something to do with that lot next door at Jimmy’s, Marty surmises.
Ant’s stayed over at the home of his mate, Carl, and Marty and Dire discuss with wonder and contentment the fact that Antony now had a friend. They wonder that they haven’t heard his name before, and Dire tells Marty about Antony liking to stay over at Carl’s and play computer games.
Well, Dire sighs, at least they know where Antony is. She wouldn’t want to be Imelda Clough’s mum right now for all the money in the world.
Adele enters the sitcom lounge all in a rush, as the car outside continues to rev its engine. Marty cracks a bad joke about Gareth’s eating habit, calling him Gareth the Grub. Dire starts wittering about the lad as well, before Adele shouts at them both to stop it. Gareth, it seems, is history.
Dire is pleased. The couple appear to have broken up. Oooh, maybe it meant that Adele was broken-hearted. After all, anyone who commits a mortal sin doesn’t deserve one iota of happiness. Still, she plays the good mother role by offering her unrequested skein of advice. Well, it’s good that Adele and Gareth had broken up - after all, it’s not good to get so involved with one bloke at her age -
Adele flounces out of the room, without listening to the narrow-minded hypocrite, and slams the door. Suddenly, the couple hear the slamming of a car door and the car tearing off. It’s then that they realise that the lad in the car was waiting for Adele.
Both Marty and Dire exchange looks of sheer horror. Marty weakly remarks that all of a sudden, Gareth didn’t seem like a bad lad.
Dire is more forthright. That Adele is just TOO good-looking, she spits, accusingly. Why, boys will be queueing up a mile to be with her before long. (That makes her a slut, eh, Dire? No one ever queued up for your brand of papier-mache face slap, did they?)
Jacqui and Max are preparing for work, whilst Ron is phaffing about with some DVDs. He tells Max, matter-of-factly, that he just might fancy watching one of the Farnhams’ DVDs to amuse himself. Ron picks up a stack of the DVDs to browse through them, and drops the lot onto the floor with a clatter. Max scolds Ron ineffectually, when he’s interrupted by the phone ringing. The call is for Jacqui, and as he hands her the phone, he continues to whinge at Ron about dropping the DVDs in the background.
Jacqui, standing in the foreground and talking on the phone, is angry. She ends the conversation by telling the person on the other end that she will discuss the matter when she comes into the Health Club later that morning. She turns to Max in dispair and wails that she had a decent contract with a good industrial laundry firm, which she had to terminate due to the fact that Sol Bennett had had an affair with the laundry rep. Now she was being forced to deal with a load of cowboys.
(Er, sorry. Why did Jacqui have to terminate her contract with these people? She sacked Sol. She should have told the rep’s boss of his employee’s unprofessional behaviour and left the ball in his court. The other boss would have dealt with the errant woman, either by sacking her or removing her to cover another area, providing Jacqui with a new rep. In order to foment good will and a better business relationship, the laundry firm may have been willing to re-negotiate Jacqui’s contract as well).
Max has sorted out the DVDs that Ron had messed up and he nags Ron about putting them back into their proper cases. Suddenly Ron moves toward the foyer. Do Max and Jacqui mind if he makes a quick dash to the Farnham lavatory? Only, you have to wait in a flippn’ queue at the Dixons’. Without waiting for a reply and as Jacqui and Max stand gape-mouthed, Ron pauses only to promise not to use more than two pieces of paper.
As he disappears upstairs, Max grits his teeth. He can’t stand much more of this, he says threateningly to Jacqui. Again, Jacqui refuses to discuss moving; but as far as Max is concerned, the sooner they move, the better.
As Dire and Marty Murray leave Sitcom House, they have an important matter to discuss - no, it’s not Antony’s bullying problems, or the fact that Adele might be shagging anything in trousers, or even the fact that Plank is de-frauding the Inland Revenue of income tax collectable. NO. It’s THAT TIME OF THE MONTH. THE FERTILE TIME OF MONTH. RIGHT NOW. TODAY. THIS INSTANT.
They simply HAVE to have sex that very day, or Dire might miss her fertile moment. HOW ABOUT DINNERTIME? Dire suggests, not subtly, but in her usual foghorn voice.
No, not dinnertime, Marty says. He has to work through dinnertime - overtime at school. WELL, THEY COULDN’T DO IT TEATIME, bawls Dire, BECAUSE THE KIDS WOULD BE AROUND.
Suddenly, she has an idea. HOW ABOUT LATER THAT MORNING? SHE COULD POP HOME FER ABOUT TEN MINUTES, IF MARTY COULD NIP A BREAK?
They both snigger like schoolchildren and agree to do that.
I HAVE A SUGGESTION. WHY DON’T THEY DO IT AT NIGHT, AT HOME, IN THE PRIVACY OF THEIR OWN BEDROOM, LIKE MOST NORMAL PEOPLE WHO WORK FROM NINE TO FIVE AND HAVE TO COMMUTE TO THEIR JOBS? I DON’T KNOW ABOUT ANYONE ELSE, BUT I AM SICK AS PIGSHIT ABOUT HEARING THIS SINGULARLY UNPLEASANT HARRIDAN GO ON AND ON AD NAUSEAM ABOUT HER BODILY FLUIDS. AND IF SHE EVER DID FALL PREGNANT, IT WOULD BE WITH THE DEVIL’S SPAWN.
Outside Hotel Corkhill, Tim is cleaning out the last of the builders’ rubbish detritus. He pauses briefly and arches his back in pain. Emily leaves by the front door, on her way to work, but she stops to enquire after Tim’s back. His back is still stiff, he says, but adds reassuringly, that it would be OK by tonight.
As he resumes tidying the van, he reflects that he only earned £250 for all that hard graft. There MUST be another way to earn money. Emily asserts weakly that the two are doing all right. Besides, she says, she’s thought about the job offer Jan had made her at the new salon. She’s decided against taking it.
But that would mean an extra £40 a month, Tim protests.
Most of that would be eaten up in bus fares getting to and from the job on the other side of the city, Emily points out.
Tim pauses, leaning against the side of the van and gazing into the distance at nothing but a future without promise. He should be in a proper job, he says, disgruntled.
Emily murmurs that he has a proper job. (Yeah, Em, like he pays income tax and National Insurance).
As Emily leaves the Close for The Parade, she passes Bev leading Josh in the direction of the Dixons’. She just manages to catch Mike Dikko as he’s coming off his night shift. Bev greets Mike and tells him that her childminder had cried off babysitting Josh again that night. Could Mike possibly babysit his son?
Mike shakes his head. No way, he says. He has to work that evening.
But it’s just for one night, Bev pleads. Couldn’t Mike miss work for one evening?
As Mike and Bev discuss the situation, their son runs to the Dixon doorstep and picks up the three pints of milk the milkman has left there.
Mike is adamant that he can’t miss a shift, just to babysit. Josh, holind a pint of milk in each hand and one under his arm, starts pulling at Mike’s jacket, asking him if he wants his milk, while Bev rhetorically asks Mike what he meant the other week when he did a song and dance about assuming more responsibility for Josh.
Mike replies that he has to work twelve-hour shifts as it was. He didn’t mind looking after his son on his nights off, but -
At that moment, Josh drops a bottle of milk, shattering the bottle and spewing milk everywhere. Mike removes Josh from the area of broken glass, as Bev takes his hand and starts to take him to school. Mike takes the two remaining bottles and promises Bev he’ll have a word to see if Rachel can look after Josh that evening.
As Mike enters the house, he hands the two pints of milk to Rachel, explaining that Josh broke a bottle. Rachel’s not in the best of moods, it seems. She informs Mike that she was up three times the previous night, attending to Beth. And as for Josh, that kid’s just hyperactive, she says. Can’t Mike do something to control his son?
Speaking of Josh, Mike begins, Bev’s been let down by her childminder again, and she was wondering if Rachel could babysit the lad for that evening.
Rachel spins on her feet to face Mike. No way! She says, adamantly. She was tired. Didn’t Mike hear her say that she was up practically all night with Beth? Besides that, she’s got Jacqui’s two to worry about today. She’d be knackered by this evening.
Mike, sensing she’s about to give him an earful, backs off, saying that Rachel didn’t have to babysit, he’d tell Bev; but Rachel, whose brain has moved into first gear, isn’t about to be stopped when she’s in full flow. She KNEW once Bev started asking them to mind Josh, that they’d get into this predicament. They were being used, she says. And they wouldn’t have had this problem if Mike hadn’t shouted off his mouth to Bev about taking responsibility for Josh. Rachel has Jacqui’s kids today as well as Beth, Josh would do her in.
(Er, excuse me, but is Rachel the Dim becoming Rachel the Even Dimmer? Mike is Josh’s FATHER. He DOES have responsibilities toward the child. Rachel would surely criticise him if he refused to exercise those responsibilities. She’d certainly criticise anyone else who so totally ignored their parental responsibility. It’s only because it inconveniences her. If Mike left her for another woman and had a child, Rachel would certainly expect Mike to take responsibility for Beth).
Marty walks Dire to work along The Parade, as we see Mike Dixon disappear into the bar in the background. Dire is considering Marty’s suggestion that she pop home for couple of minutes during a morning break for a quick shag. Finally, she decides that - what the hell, she doesn’t need a job, she needs a baby - and tells Marty that she’ll nip out for ten minutes later that morning.
By this time, they’ve reached the door of the salon and Emily pushes past them to open the door and start business for the day.
Marty is chuffed. As the couple stand in front of the open door and as Emily checks the appointments diary for the day, Marty jokes aloud about saving his strength for the sexual encounter. Their banter is graphic and tasteless, and the look on Emily’s expressive face registers extreme disgust. Marty carries on in alto voce about this encounter being worth the fact that he’s been knocked back several times in the last few days.
Marty calls over his shoulder to Emily to book ten minutes of Dire’s time around 11 AM.
‘THAT’S ABOUT AS LONG AS IT TAKES TOO!’ Squeals Dire, giggling. Emily looks about ready to puke, as Marty tells the girl to put his name down in red.
How many other viewers want to slap this fat couple till they bounce off the Close? Discuss, please.
Upstairs on The Parade, Nisha and Katie are preparing for their commute downstairs to work. Nisha seems shocked to find that Sammy’s gone to London and asks Katie if she knew that her sister was planning on visiting Louise.
Katie confirms that she knew of Sammy’s plans.
Nisha is wary, hoping that Sammy doesn’t end up having a row with Richard and kicking off in front of Louise.
Katie doesn’t seem interested at all in Sammy or Nisha. She’s got her own problems, she tells Nisha, shortly. Anyway, Sammy would be back the following day. And pushing past Nisha, she leaves the flat.
After Katie’s gone, Nisha notices the kitchen calendar. In the space allotted for 9 May, Katie has inked in a large, red heart. Of course! How callous of we mere mortals to forget the martyrdom of the patron saint of ducks!
Mike, meanwhile, has entered the bar, in search of Bev. He’s had to tell her that Rachel has refused to babysit Josh that evening. Bev is behind the bar, preparing for the lunchtime rush, and she’s filled with consternation at what she perceives to be a betrayal by Rachel. She thought Rachel was a mate, she remarks to Mike.
Mike tries to explain that he caught Rachel at a bad time. She had been up all night the previous night with Beth, and she’s also got Jacqui’s kids on her hands today.
Bev beginsto plead with Mike again. It’s only ONE night, she says. Couldn’t Mike do it just this once?
Mike refuses. He’s in debt up to his eyeballs and needs to work. (Yes, but Bev has a point. Mike is Josh’s dad, and childcare is partly HIS responsibility too. He’s on a wage, not a system where he’s paid only when he works. Why can’t he pull a sickie once? He’d do it on any other occasion, if it meant taking Rachel out or something like that).
Bev is even more taken aback by Mike’s refusal, and quite rightly so. Why the hell did Mike come around the bar a few weeks back, she asks, doing a song-and-dance about wanting to take more parental responsibility for their son? Why make all the fuss about volunteering to do his share, when he didn’t ever intend to follow through with the motions?
Mike is lost for words in his pithy defence, but before he can open his mouth, Bev dismisses him out of hand. Mike, she accurately assesses, is a waste of space. Better he return home to get his beauty sleep.
Adele has returned home from school in her dinner hour. Thinking herself alone, she enters the kitchen, but suddenly, she hears the voices of her disgusting parents. She hears Marty laugh and tell Dire that he snookered some time off school by telling the head that he had to go home and service the central heating boiler.
OOOH, witters his tactless, bleach-brained (sorry, if I offend the lurky Paul Stephens) wife, WHAT A THING TO SAY? WHEN WHAT HE REALLY WAS DOING WAS MAKING LOOV TO HIS WIFE?
When Adele hears this, she loses all thought of food. In fact, her face takes on a greenish, disgustingly sick hue, just like Emily’s.
As the couple descend the stairs, Marty is asking Dire if she shouldn’t have remained upstairs awhile longer, in position, with her legs suspended in the air. They are laughing about this and issuing more smutty remarks, when they round the corner into the sitcom kitchen and find Adele standing there.
‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING HOME?’ Demands Dire, in her usual foghorn voice.
Free period, snaps Adele, smug in the face of her parents’ embarrassment. And she’s just about to go back to school.
JUST A MINUTE, Big Dire tries to stop her. SHE HAS A FEW QUESTIONS SHE WANTS TO ASK THE GIRL. LIKE, WHO THAT LAD WAS WHO PICKED HER OOP IN HIS CAR THIS MORNING?
Her new boyfriend, Adele snaps, flouncing out the front door to the diminishing sound of Dire’s frustrated voice.
‘WELL, WHO IS HE?’ She demands at Adele’s retreating back. ‘DOESN’T HE HAVE LEGS? CAN’T HE COOM TO THE DOOR? DOESN’T HE KNOW HOW TO KNOCK?’
Marty abruptly shushes her and she turns to him in dismay. ‘WILL WE EVER GET TO MEET THIS LAD?’ She asks.
Not at this rate, quips Marty.
Nikki and Jimmy have returned from the hospital and Jimmy’s Outpatient appointment. As they enter Hotel Corkhill, Jimmy announces to no one in particular that he feels ‘brill’. But Dr Nikki knows better. He hasn’t got his test results yet, she cautions. His levels might not be right.
Oh, he’s taking his meds, says Jimmy, dismissively, and he FEELS level, that’s what’s important. And he makes a beeline for the telephone, announcing his intention to ring Helen.
Nikki makes a weak effort at dissuading Jimmy. Is it really a good idea to ring Helen and tell her about his illness right away? She asks. After all, Jimmy just might be off scale a bit, even if his test results don’t say so. Right now, she says, he’s excited about seeing Helen and telling her, but he doesn’t really know her. In fact, she remarks, Jimmy’s acting like a teenager in love.
Well, Jimmy counters, being in love does that to a person.
All the same, Dr Nikki warns, she thinks SHE should be there with Jimmy when he tells Helen. (After all, an eminent psychiatrist can do no end of good). It’s important that she be there, she adds.
Jimmy puts a fatherly arm around Nikki’s shoulder and draws her near to him. Nikki has been absolutely brilliant in caring for Jimmy, he says, and taking an interest in his condition and his problems. But right now, in this instance, Jimmy needs to take responsibility.
Dr Nikki advises her patient to take things slow with Helen. People need time to build relationships, she says.
Over at Chateau Farnham, Jacqui, who’s home, has managed to fix Ron a prime fry-up for tea. Ron accepts the hefty plateful gratefully, telling Jacqui that one of the few things he used to look forward to in prison was tea-time. The only problem was, that after tea, the nights in prison were endless.
Suddenly the front door bangs and Max enters the kitchen in a rush. As Max enters, Ron takes his plate and announces that he’ll finish his meal in the lounge. Max has brought some house details home for Jacqui to peruse, he says, excitedly. Look, he pulls a brochure from his briefcase. A five-bedroomed semi in Woolton-
‘Boot, Max,’ Jacqui issues a protest, ‘I told yer I don’t want ter move.’
Max is insisitent, as Ron cadges an earful in the foreground. There’s just too much to go on, he says. They need more room, especially when they have another baby -
But Jacqui’s worried that there might not be another baby.
Max laughs this off and tells her she’s being too pessimistic.
Ron enters the kitchen, ferrying his practically-untouched plate (ever notice how much food goes to waste in a soap opera?).
He’d best be on his way, he advises his daughter and son-in-law.
When Ron’s gone out the door, Max pushes the Woolton house brochure under Jacqui’s nose again. Woolton’s nice, he insists, and there are some others-
Jacqui turns to Max, in exasperation.Max was wrong to come in full steam-ahead, she scolds, going on about their move. Look what it’s done to her dad. Didn’t Max realise that Ron was lonely?
But what about their lives together? Max demands.
Jacqui tells Max that she doesn’t want to think about moving until Ron’s settled in his own mind and with his own life. He’s only just got out of prison, she points out.
Marty has returned from doing a hard day’s graft of skiving at Brookie Comp. When he enters Sitcom House, Dire’s there to verbally pounce.
DID ADELE GO BACK TO SCHOOL? She bellows.
Yes, Marty informs her, in a tired voice. (Dire has the capacity of tiring people out, merely by talking to them). He made sure that she did. He checked on her.
THANK GOD FOR THAT! Dire rolls her bug-eyes heavenward. SHE WAS SURE THE GIRL WOULD SAG OFF.
At that moment, the sound of screeching brakes sound outside and in a few seconds, Adele is seen struggling into the lounge carrying a large box of frozen chickens. She explains that the chickens are a gift from her new boyfriend, Matty. He works in a chicken factory, she says.
As the chickens spill out onto the floor, Marty helps the girl remove them to the kitchen. They’ll have enough there for a year’s Sunday dinners, Marty remarks.
Dire, however, continues to scold Adel, in an attempt to inculcate a sense of guilt within the girl. THIS RELATIONSHIP IS HAPPENING TOO SOON ON THE HEELS OF GARETH, Dire says,knowingly. AFTER ALL, WHAT DOES ADELE KNOW ABOUT THIS MATTY?
‘I know his car smells of dead chickens,’ smart-arses Adele, as she flounces off.
Marty admits ruefully that he misses Gareth already.
Emily has returned home to Hotel Corkhill and is complaining to Nikki about Dire’s behaviour. She tells Nikki about Dire’s and Marty’s lewd conversation outside the Salon that morning. For Christ’s sake, Emily whinges, that woman’s nearly forty. (Er, no she’s not. She’s forty-one, if Brookside cared to stick to the original script). It was disgusting the way she and Marty were carrying on - booking time off for sex! And all morning long, that Dire was like a bitch on heat.
Well, Nikki says, indulgently, she’s desperate to have a baby. Can you blame her?
Well, no, says Emily, but she admits that she thought the disgoosting couple were about to do it in a public place, much less talk about it.
Nikki laughs and wonders what Timily will be like when they’re pushing forty. But she admits that she IS worried about Jimmy and Helen becoming a couple. There’s Jimmy, she says, all excited and wanting to tell Helen all about his mental illness. He SAYS he’s in love, she muses. Anyway, Nikki ends her musings by saying that she thinks Marty and Dire are a cute couple. Emily looks as though she’s ready to puke a buzzard.
Unable to find a sitter, Bev plops Josh in the Bar’s office, ordering him to sit at the desk and not move. As she shuts the door, Josh looks bored.
A few minutes later, Bev sees Jacqui enter the bar. Approaching Jacqui, Bev asks if Jacqui’s OK, oblivious to the fact that Josh has just sneaked out of the office and is moseying around the rear of the dining area.
Jacqui, seeing Josh, points him out to Bev and remarks that she was just about to ask Bev if SHE were OK. She thought Bev had told her she had a babysitter sorted for Josh.
Bev’s face becomes a mixture of horror and panic when she spies Josh. Honestly, she begins a frantic explanation, as she follows Jacqui behind the bar, she thought she had a sitter sorted, but the woman had backed out and cancelled again.
Jacqui tells Bev that she can’t risk losing her licence with Josh continuously hanging about the place.
Oh, but she DID try, Bev insists, and she honestly couldn’t get a sitter. Oh, Jacqui simply HAD to do something about providing Bev with adequate childcare.
(Sorry? Excuse me, but Jacqui, as Bev’s employer, is under NO obligation to provide Bev with anything of the sort. When Bev accepted Jacqui’s offer of a job, she did so, knowing that BEV would be responsible for finding adequate childcare for her son. Who looked after the kid when she owned the bar, herself? Answer: Anyone she could corral into doing the job for her - Shelley, Dave, Leanne. And now she ‘expects’ Jacqui to find her a viable child-minder! Give me a break!)
Seeing Jacqui ensconced behind the bar, Bev grabs her coat with one hand and Josh with the other. Ten minutes, she begs Jacqui. Just let her pop round to see Rachel! And Bev scurries out with Josh in tow.
Jacqui shouts after her to hurry back.
As Nisha enters NNT, she catches poor, pitiful Katie cleaning the kitchen. Nisha remarks that it’s Sammy’s turn to clean the kitchen.
Well, snaps poor, pitiful Katie, Sammy’s not here and she’s doing it for her sister. Anyway, they all had to club together until Nisha managed to find that magic cleaner she was always going on about. Where does she propose to find a cleaner?
Well, sneers Nisha, sarcastically and not a little unsympathetically, they could hardly use Great Grannies, could they?
Great Grannies is going down the tubes and Katie’s glad, the wretch remarks.
Nishat tells Katie that she only just realised that the next day was the first anniversary of the sainted Clint’s death. This provokes an hysterical rant from poor, pitiful, self-pitying Katie.
It’s been one year, the ski-nosed dimwit weeps, and it doesn’t get any better.
The first anniversary is always the worst, soothes Nisha. Just get that out of the way, and Katie should put the past behind her and dwell on the future.
FUTURE! Katie exclaims. They would have been living in Spain by now. They would have had jobs, maybe they would have been married. HER future could have been good. It SHOULD have been good with Clint. In fact, it WOULD have been good, if he’d lived.
But it might not have been, Nisha points out, realistically.
How does Nisha know? Snarls Katie.
‘Because I knew Clint longer than you did,’ Nisha tells her. ‘I know things about him that I’ll bet he never told you. And I can tell you that Clint was NO angel.’
Bev and Josh have run into Ron outside Number 8 and are talking to him about the possibility of Rachel babysitting Josh. Ron demurs. The lad won’t be allowed to stay the night, he says. Rachel was up all the previous night with the baby.
Seeing the desperate look on Bev’s face, Ron suggest that he take Josh back to her flat and sit him there. How about it? He asks Josh. Josh and Granddad could have a lads’ night in.
Bev thanks him profusely, telling him that Jacqui was on the warpath, and that if she didn’t sort a sitter for Josh soon, Jacqui just might sack her.
Upon hearing Nisha’s last, blasphemous remark, poor, pitiful, stinky, grimey, smelly Katie has made a beeline for the kitchen and starts sucking on a bottle of vodka. Nisha snatches the bottle from Katie’s greasy grasp. A drink’s the last thing Katie needs right now, Nisha snaps. What she DOES need to do is to hear the truth about Clint.
Clint was HER fiancé, wails Katie. What does NISHA know about Clint?
Well, let’s see, begins Nisha. She’s known Clint longer than Katie, for a start. AND she was Clint’s fiancee before he met Katie.
Poor, pitiful Katie turns her Nixon face to stone and summons up as much dignity as her pea-brain will allow. Wrapping herself in this meagre dignity, she announces haughtily that Clint was HER fiancé when he died.
After Bev’s returned to the Bar, Jacqui sits at home, relaxing with Max over a glass of nice, middle-class wine. She’s complaining, however, about Ron babysitting for Josh. Bev’s using her dad, solely for that purpose, and it infuriates her to no end.
Max makes a feeble protest about not wanting to talk about business that evening.
Oh, she wishes she’d never got involved with that bar now, and Max reminds her that he warned her of this at the time. And anyway, what if Ron and Bev DO get back together, he says. After all, they lived together for years.
There is just NO WAY Ron could EVER get back with Bev, Jacqui announces, firmly. And how could they even contemplate moving? How could she move and leave Ron to Bev’s devices?
Later in the evening, Bev returns to the flat after her shift. Ron’s tired. He had no idea computer games could be so exhausting. He’s sure that those things give kids nightmares. Bev admits that she’s tired too, but not tired out. She thanks Ron for saving her bacon with Jacqui. She owes him one.
In the foreground, Ron’s face lights up mischievously. But suddenly he’s brought back to earth. Did Bev realise what the next day was? He hadn’t thought until Rachel reminded him that a year ago the next day was the day he’d shot Clint. (Nice one, Rachel. They don’t call you ‘dim’ for nothing).
Bev tries to dissuade Ron from talking about this. Ron doesn’t want to remember that, she says.
But, Ron points out, he’s killed a lad, and he doesn’t even remember the date he’d done it. He spent four months in prison and what’s he come out to find? That everyone had moved on and left him behind. Did Bev know that Jacqui and Max were thinking of moving? Everyone’s moving on and Ron Dixon’s still stuck in the past and lost, he muses, sadly.
Although it’s late, Nikki finds Jimmy, dressed in his jim-jams and dressing gown, with his ear glued to the phone. She tells Jimmy it’s late.
He knows, he says, brushing her comment aside, he just wants to give it one more go, trying to call Helen. As Nikki starts to protest again, the unseen Happy Smiling Helen answers the phone.
Jimmy, breathlessly, tells her that he’s been trying for ages to get her, and Helen tells him that she’s been away for the day. He suggests that they meet for a drink tomorrow, at about 8:30pm. The unseen Helen suggests bringing Stephanie so Jimmy could meet her, but Jimmy demurs. He wants to see Helen on her own. There’s something important he has to discuss with her. They agree to meet at Jimmy’s the following evening at 8:30. Nikki goes to bed in disgust.
Ron is trying to explain his feelings to Bev about his predicament. It’s not that he doesn’t WANT Jacqui and Max to move, he tries to elaborate, but -
Bev hits the nail on the head by surmising that Ron is afraid of being in Number 8 by himself, in the house where he killed Clint.
It’s not just that, he says, there’s Ray and Jessie living there, along with Mike and Rachel -
But Ray and Jessie won’t be there forever, Bev tells him. And then Ron will be rattling around that big house on his own.
Ron gazes at Bev ruefully and remarks that were it not for Mike and Rachel, he’d find himself a smaller house.
Bev comments that she doesn’t know why Max and Jacqui are going to the trouble of house-hunting when the solution is right under their noses. They need a bigger property; Ron needs a smaller one. Why not swop houses? (Sorry, but apart from a slight extension to the kitchen, the Dixon house is no bigger than the Farnham house).
Bev goes on to suggest that Ron stay a few nights at her flat, just until the anniversary of Clint’s death is out of the way.
Ron is unsure, but Bev insists. Josh would love having his granddad stay, she says, and Ron would be no trouble.
Ron agrees and Bev decides that they should celebrate his decision with a brandy. As Bev pours the brandy, Ron suggests she drink it whilst sitting beside him on the sofa; and she obliges, telling Ron to forget his troubles and stay the night.
Ron turns his face to the camera and leers, lasciviously, thus putting the pantomime stamp firmly on Brookside.
Barry Woodward wrote this. When can we expect to see the Widow Wankey?
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002