BROOKSIDE PARENTS
After tonight’s episode, I feel the need to make a comment about the parents we find on Brookside Close and the vicinity. One situation stands out, in particular - that of Josh. Consider the question: Who IS Josh? I mean, is he Josh McLoughlin or Josh Dixon? Last week, he was heard to refer to himself as ‘McLoughlin’, but in his previous incarnation, he was distinctly ‘Dixon’. Who’s listed as his father on his birth certificate? I seem to recall that Ron’s name appears there, even though Josh’s paternity was later established to be that of Mike. No matter. Dixon was the child’s proper surname. Even though his parents never married, his father was recognise as such.
Perhaps he’s now ‘McLoughlin-Gonzalez’, which ALSO begs the question as to whether or not Bev has ever got round to divorcing Fred. Or, like Mick’s marriage to Elaine, will that be conveniently forgotten in the interest of storylines? Perhaps Bev discovered Fred to be a fraud too - that he really wasn’t Portuguese-Brazilian at all, as ‘Gonzalez’ is Spanish and ‘Goncalves’ is the Portugues derivative.
Josh is an unbearable kid. A brat. And one of the few true instances when we can aptly apply the addage: ‘I blame the parents’. Josh has a mother who must have a mental age of fourteen and the maturity level of ten. How Bev ever managed to hold onto the business of the bar for as long as she did is anyone’s wonder. We know she squandered the inheritance she skived off her employer. But responsible mother? PU-LEESE!
Bev was quite content, when Josh was born, to fob the boy’s paternity onto her middle-aged lover, Ron Dixon, rather than admit the ACTUAL paternity was that of Ron’s son Mike. Why? Simply because Ron had a bit of dosh, owned a house and could materially provide for Josh, whereas Mike was a careless and somewhat feckless student, with pie-in-the-sky ideas about becoming the next Stephen Spielberg.
Then the ardour cooled between her and Ron, Bev fell upon hard times, the kid was taken into care and Ron prevailed upon to lie to the authorities in order to help Bev re-gain custody of her son. When she returned flush to buy the bar off Jacqui, one of her prime delights was rubbing the Dixons’, pere et fils, genetic noses in the doo-doo. Ron was summarily stripped of any guise of being Josh’s father, paternity was belatedly bestowed on Mike and a requisite sum of money witheld from his wages (paid by Bev) in order to finance Josh - all this done without recourse to any sort of legal court.
In the meantime, the devoted mother spent 24/7 at her new enterprise, whilst leaving Josh in the care of such responsible citizens as an ex-gangster drug-dealer and abuser (Dave Burns), an obsessive lipstick lesbian (Shelley), a cruel woman with a criminal conviction for prostitution and GBH, and an illegal immigrant fraudulent spouse. These people, I might add, were expected to VOLUNTEER as carers for Bev’s child solely in gratitude for Bev bestowing her benevolent friendship upon them.
Now she’s down on her heels again, through her own naivete, and she EXPECTS to have subsidised childcare.
As for Josh’s biological father, Mike, quite simply, doesn’t want to know the boy. In fact, he wishes the kid never existed. I daresay, if you scratched Mike’s surface, you’d find he thought the gorgeous infant Beth, his daughter, more than a bit of a nuisance as well - something to drain off money better spent on meals out and mobile phones.
And then, there’s Louise. Now who is she? Is she Louise DANIELS, being the legitimate daughter of Sammy Rogers and Owen Daniels, or is she Louise ROGERS, as Sammy is wont to refer to herself as ‘Mrs Rogers’? When Sammy and Richard were living together as man and wife, did Richard - who appears to have no surname at all - legally adopt the child, thus making her Louise No-Surname-At-All, and entitling him to claim custody of the girl as the better and more responsible parent - after all, her mother is a shameless drunk and one step away from becoming a slut? (My own personal opinion cries out that RICHARD is a perv, with his eye on the Ratchild as she matures, but that’s beside the point).
And then there are the Murrays, everyone’s favourite sitcom family. Marty proves himself an ineffectual father by handing the rearing of his three kids over to his second wife, who has absolutely no maternal experience, but who has had plenty of rigid discipline and religious training inculcated upon her, via a Catholic education. Result? One socially backward latent adolescent, one girl positively bursting her bra straps to cop off with anything having a pulse and wearing trousers, and a future Real IRA operative who’s eaten up by guilt at having accidentally killed another of his kind who was bullying him - and a girl at that!
Add to those examples the Farnhams, whose children are seldom seen and NEVER heard (no wonder Harry walks around bobbing his potato head and smiling idiotically) and the Corkhill child who’s hair is cut by having a bowl placed on top of his head), and you have some seriously BAAAAAAAD parenting here.
And don’t START me on the Shadwick daughters.
I blame the parents, me.
Oh, I wonder if Happy Smiling Helen’s daughter bobs her head up and down, as a genetically inherited trait also?
OK, so it’s another bright and promising day in Scouseland. In fact, it’s breakfast time at NNT. Now, as we’ve all been told since infancy that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, so we see the conscientious Naughty Nudie Nurse Nisha, fully-clothed and standing in the kitchen wolfing down a bowl of cereal - probably muesli. Because Nisha is a 21st Century Material Girl, she has to have brekkie on the run, so she STANDS to have her cereal.
As she’s chomping away, poor, pitiful, stinky, greasy, mustachioed Katie (WOULD SOMEONE IN MAKE-UP PLEASE WAX DIANE BURKE’S UPPER LIP?), staggers from her lair and stumbles, in the throes of hang-over, through the kitchen in the direction of the loo. Nisha stares after her, in frustration.
Over at Hotel Corkhill, Jimmy’s got the phone glued to his ear again. It rings and rings, but there’s no answer. In the background, Tim also stares at him in frustration.
(Perhaps Tim and Nisha are frustrated at the fact that so useless a pair as Jimmy and Katie are STILL retained by Brookside to be used in repetitive storyline after storyline? SIGH.)
Next-door at Sitcom House, Adele sits on the sitcom sofa, mirror in hand. She stares balefully at her swollen face, blotched and stained from fake tan and gravy browner. NOT a pretty sight.
Back at NNT, Sammy is rabbiting on her mobile phone to Louise. Now that Louise has gone back to school and her pseudo-stepfather (and most probably her future de-flowerer), Sammy talks to the girl more than she ever did in her short lifetime. It’s so EASY being a mother when your kid is three hundred miles away and someone else is dealing with all the day-to-day expense and responsibility.
As Sammy chatters, poor, pitiful, barfy, greasy, filthy Katie stumbles from the loo and trudges despondently past Sammy in the direction of her lair. Sammy pauses finishes her conversation with Louise and calls after Katie, reminding her that she’s late for work.
Katie mumbles that she’s not going to work.
The flat looks like a slatternly tip.
Nisha appears from her room (er, how many bedrooms DOES this flat have?), dressed and ready for work. Sammy informs Nisha jealously that Louise has told her that Richard took Louise and ALL her mates out to a pizza lunch that Sunday. Well, she continues, Sammy could just NEVER compete with that -
Nisha interrupts, nudging Sammy and pointing toward the door to Katie’s lair. Katie is drinking heavily again, she informs Sammy.
Sammy promises briefly to talk to Katie and then asks Nisha what she said to Katie the other evening.
Nisha replies that she simply tried to get through to Katie that she was drinking too much.
Sammy doesn’t appear to take this information seriously, because her attention is diverted by the state of the flat. This place is horrendous, she declares, fastidiously, standing with arms akimbo and surveying the accumulated filth. She thought Nisha was supposed to be organising a cleaner.
(Hang on a minute. That flat is not huge, and those girls are not busy. They’re just bone-idle and lazy. Nisha is supposed to be a health professional and should have some idea of hygiene. The other two are just lazy sluts. None of the three can summon up enough energy to clean a relatively small area of floor space, but they can drink and glut to excess and then expect some poor sod to work solidly at cleaning up their filthy, personal detritus).
Nisha tells Sammy that she’s put a card up advertising for a cleaner in the garage across The Parade.
Sammy is taken aback at this piece of information. Nisha did WHAT? Just what did Nisha expect to get from that? Sammy knows better how to recruit cleaning staff; after all, she was used to hiring and recruiting hotel staff. You don’t get a professional cleaner by putting a card up in a shop window, she says, witheringly. She knows what to look for in a cleaner, she brags. SHE’S a pro(stitute). (Yes, and her professional cleaners would demand professional wages too, whereas Nisha’s looking for someone who wants a bit of extra income and would be happy having minimum wage).
So from now on, Sammy would take responsibility for hiring the cleaner.
As Mike Dixon returns from his night shift, he meets his nice-but-dim wife leaving Number 8 on an errand. Rachel asks him how his shift went. Mike replies that it was 8 hours spent in agony, due to his persistent toothache. But never mind. Tonight was another night off and he intended to take Rachel out and spoil her.
(Er, did it ever occur to ANYONE that this is how Mike and Rachel are perpetually in debt? They need every copper penny that they earn, yet when they get a bit extra or some free time, they blow it on luxury hotel breaks and meals out. Mike has two children to support, and both expect Ron and Jacqui to subsidise their lifestyle. I have no sumpathy for this couple, whom I find shallow and ignorant).
As Mike and Rachel walk back into Number 8, they find Ray on the phone, talking to Happy Smiling Helen. Either Happy Smiling Helen’s called him, or she’s got one of those phones which identifies the caller. Ray is advising Happy Smiling Helen not to park outside the house, for whatever reason - either due to the builders or, most likely, to keep Jimmy off her scent). He’s heard to make an arrangement to meet Helen at the bar for a drink beforehand.
As he ends the call, he asks Mike and Rachel if they minded if Helen helped Ray babysit Beth that evening? (There you go, Mike and Rachel are capitalising on the goodwill of the Hiltons, as they did Ron and Anthea, for free childcare!)
Mike thanks Ray and tells him that he’s taking Rachel to the new restaurant, Chinese Village, for a meal. With any luck, Beth should sleep through the evening. (Those Brookside children can sleep through anything. Wanna bet their parents drook’em?)
Well, remarks Ray, let’s just hope Jimmy Corkhill doesn’t come around banging on the door again in the middle of the night! Was that a fright to him and Ron the other evening, especially to Ron, Ray informs Mike. He’d never seen Mike’s dad so spooked. The look on Ron’s face gave him cause for concern.
As Ray’s relating this story, Ron potters into the lounge and sits on the sofa, putting on his shoes. Hearing this last remark, Ron looks up and quips briefly, ‘No worries, Ray. I’m not off out to get another gun.’
Ray turns to Ron and asserts that he was thinking more about Ron’s heart condition.
Mike is startled to find his father home. He thought Ron was staying at Bev’s.
Well, he’s not, Ron confirms.
But who’s minding Josh? Mike wants to know, suddenly worried.
As Ron turns to leave the room and the house, he suggests that perhaps Mike should consult Jimmy Corkhill about that matter. He might have some ideas.
Just what does Jimmy Corkhill have to do with all this? Asks Mike, bewildered.
‘It seems that he and Bev have a shared interest in pool,’ replies Ron, leaving the house.
It’s breakfast time at Sitcom House. Adele’s predicament with the tanning lotion has given her hypocritical stepmother ample opportunity to play the bitch card and disguise it as innocent mickey-taking.
As the girl sits despondently on the sitcom sofa, Big Dire with her big, bleached hair and her big voice, pokes her big head around the door from the sitcom kitchen, where we hear a nutritious high-colesterol, fried breakfast sizzling on the cooker.
DOES ADELE FANCY SOOM ORANGE JUICE? HAHAHAHAHA! She jokes, disappearing for an instance.
Adele looks miserable.
Then, suddenly, the horrible, gargoyle head appears again. OR MAYBE SHE’D LIKE SOOM STREAKY BACON? HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Adele mutters that she’s glad someone finds her plight so amusing.
Big Dire feigns contrition now. She’s an expert in that, being raised a Catholic. DON’T WORRY, she tells Adele, her voice booming round the house, MATTY WOULD STILL LIKER HER.
Oh, she’s finished with Matty, Adele says, solemnly. She couldn’t abide him. His hands, she says, were everywhere.
The ignorant, bleach-brained bitch inserts her foot into her big gob and shoves. BOOT, SHE THOUGHT THAT’S WHAT ADELE WANTED!’
Not when his hands have been up a chicken’s bum, counters Adele. Anyway, she didn’t really like Matty. She was only going out with him to make Russell jealous.
Now this is a new name to Dire. Shaking her head with obvious envy. ‘I WISH I HAD WHAT YOU HAVE,’ she tells Adele. ‘YER CAN STILL PULL A BLOKE, EVEN WHEN YER LOOK LIKE THAT.’
Over at The Parade, Josh, dressed for school is aimlessly kicking a football around the pavement. As he’s occupying himself, Dr Parr approaches him, asking in a friendly tone if Josh were on his way to school.
Josh answers the doctor’s question with a rude question of his own. ‘Do yer think I’m wearing this uniform for laughs?’
Abjectly and unnecessarily, the doctor apologises for his reaction to Josh’s escapade of kicking the football in the hall upstairs. Just to make amends, he says, he’s bought some sweets for Josh and hands the little blighter a bar of chocolate - only Josh wasn’t to tell his mum that the doctor was handing out sweets, he adds, conspiratorily.
The ungrateful little future England football thug grabs the chocolate and pockets it, wisecracking, ‘Don’t make so much effort the next time.’ This is a true son of his mother, and this is NOT funny.
Ray leaves Number 8 and walks in the direction of the pathway to The Parade. As he crosses the Close, Jimmy calls out to him and dashes from Hotel Corkhill. In the background, Tim watches him closely.
Jimmy asks abruptly if Ray planned on seeing Helen that day. Ray looks uneasy for a moment and then lies, saying no, he had no plans to see her. Jimmy then starts to witter. If Ray DOES speak to her, could he try to tell her that Jimmy still wanted to speak to her - about what they were discussing the night she ran out on him. Ray was to tell her that Jimmy understood that she could be nervous. After all, it’s hard for some people to see past another’s mental illness.
Ray does an imitation of Max Farnham’s and Anthony Trueman’s fish impersonation, working his mouth up and down and saying nothing, lost for words, as Tim calls out stridently to Jimmy, walking toward him.
Jimmy ignores Tim’s call, as Ray struggles to find a response, not wanting to promise Jimmy anything.
Tim stands at Jimmy’s shoulder now, and Jimmy, distracted, asks Tim what he wants.
Speaking firmly, Tim tells Jimmy that they need some milk. Jimmy takes the hint.
Ray avoids making the promise to speak to Helen by telling Jimmy that he won’t be seeing her for awhile. He’s very busy with the bungalow at the moment, you see. Then, he takes his leave of both men, by scurrying away in the direction of The Parade.
Tim lays a soothing hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and walks him toward the house.
At the medical centre, they’re a receptionist down and Nisha is doubling on reception, telling a patient that the centre was short-staffed and apologising for the patient’s wait.
Dr Parr, in his George Clooney cool doc guise, nifty St Tropez tee-top and kex, asks Nisha if there’s a problem.
Nisha confirms that they appear to be short-staffed today, but that they could cope.
Glancing around the reception area, Parr’s face hardens imperceptibly and he asks shortly where Katie can be found.
Avoiding his eyes in the classic soap opera lying guise, Nisha replies, saying Katie’s laid up with a tummy bug today.
Ben Hull does WONDERFUL things with his eyes. The face remains an oasis of deceptive calm, but the eyes steel over. Great actor. Wasted on Brookside. Oh, really? He remarks, sarcastically. What are her ‘symptoms?’
Nisha turns away from him and busies herself with nothing. Oh, there’s no temperature, she says, unconvincingly. In fact, Nisha’s sure Katie will be in the following day.
No, he reiterates, by symptoms he means dehydration, headache, a solemn vow never to drink again?
Nisha assures him firmly that Katie’s suffering from a tummy bug. No more. No less.
Sammy’s on the mobile again to Louise. Louise has apparently told her to stop phoning. She’s embarrassing the child with all this attention. Perhaps Sammy should text her instead.
But she doesn’t want to text her, Sammy protests. She wants to hear Louise’s voice. She misses her. No, she’s not old-fashioned either. OK, she continues, she apologises for embarrassing Louise. She would text her, but she’s just got a new mobile and doesn’t know how to do it yet.
As she finishes the call, poor, pitiful Katie staggers into the room, dressed in fetid pyjamas and flops on the couch.
Sammy attempts to send a text message and gives up, muttering about not understanding how to use her new mobile.
Well, why did she get it in the first place? Snarls Katie.
Because she liked the look of it, Sammy snaps. Anyway, why isn’t Katie at work?
Katie whines that she doesn’t feel well.
Sammy tells Katie that Nisha says Katie has had too much to drink; but Katie wasn’t to let Nisha upset her, Sammy says, protectively. She should take no notice of what Nisha says. Nisha isn’t known for being the most sensitive of people, Sammy explains, cattily and ignorantly. And besides, Nisha hasn’t lost someone the way Katie and Sammy have.
(Er, besides Frank, who, exactly has Sammy irretrievably lost?)
As Jacqui arrives to open the bar for the day, she finds Ron waiting outside the door. Jacqui unlocks the main door and enters, followed at heel by Ron. She asks him if he’s settling in all right with Bev.
Oh, Ron replies, pointedly, Bev is VERY accommodating. Er, by the way, has Bev said anything to Jacqui about Jimmy Corkhill?
Jacqui makes the ubiquitous frown of concentration and concern and denies Bev ever mentioning Jimmy Corkhill.
Ron’s come to talk to Jacqui about his plans for the future. On the business front, he says, he’s been thinking of branching out. He offers to do the laundry for Jacqui’s Health Club AND the ironing as well.
Jacqui takes a seat at a nearby booth and indicates Ron sit opposite her. This is worth a chat, she says, matter-of-factly.
Well, Ron begins, hesitantly, he actually wanted to do it for both the Health Club AND The Shelf.
Jacqui is impressed. She’s willing to talk it over with Max, she says. And it’s good to see Ron taking some direction again.
Ron confesses that this was actually Bev’s idea, indirectly.
Jacqui remarks encouragingly that she knew Ron’s moving in with Bev was a good idea.
(HANG ON A MINUTE HERE!!!! SINCE WHEN DID JACQUI FARNHAM APPROVE OF HER FATHER’S RENEWED ASSOCIATION WITH BEV? NOT TWO WEEKS AGO, SHE WAS DESPAIRING OF THIS TO MAX! THIS IS EITHER ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF BROOKSIDE MOVING THE GOALPOSTS AGAIN OR WRITERS NOT LIAISING WITH EACH OTHER!!!!! TACKY, TACKY, TACKY, SHODDY, SHODDY, SHODDY RESEARCH!)
Jimmy sits broodily musing. Tim puts the phone down and informs Jimmy that he’s off to see a man about a shifting job.
Jimmy doesn’t hear him, continuing to stare vacantly into the distance. Serves him right about being so honest, he mumbles.
Tim understands the cause of Jimmy’s dismay. Look, he tries to jolly Jimmy, if Helen’s going to scarper like that, she’s simply not worth worrying about.
Hmph! Snorts Jimmy. Helen just doesn’t want a man who could take her on a romantic walk through the Mersey Tunnel. Honestly, he continues, looking desperately at Tim, he tried to explain everything to her. What went wrong?
She’s not worth it, reiterates Tim, with finality.
Big Dire and Adele mosey along The Parade in the direction of the Salon, as Dire’s decided to put in a day at work for a change.
SO, she bellows, WHEN DO THE FAMILY GET TER MEET THIS ROOSLE? HMMM ... AND NOT LONG AGO, ADELE WAS CRYING ABOUT NOT HAVIN’ A FELLA.
As they reach the Salon, we notice that a missing persons’ poster, featuring a large picture of Imelda, has been placed on a pillar outside the door to the premises.
Down the street a bit, Jacqui opens the door to the bar to find Josh standing outside. Doesn’t Josh have school today? She asks.
Josh tells his aunt that his moom sent him down to ask Jacqui if it would be all right for Josh to sit in the back room later that evening and do his homework, as his moom was having trouble finding a sitter.
Jacqui places her hands on her hips and tells the lad that his moom was well out of order, in both asking that question and sending Josh to ask it of her. Bev knows the answer is no. Anyway, isn’t Granddad supposed to be babysitting Josh? She asks.
Granddad’s gone home, replies Josh.
Nisha is surprisingly stressed out at work, especially today, when she’s combining her nursing skills with organising the admin in the reception area. (If Katie is the senior receptionist, I wonder how all the underlings feel about her - seems as though she’s taken an incredible advantage of good will in the past year and she comes out on top with a promotion).
This place is SO disorganised, she mutters. (Hey, maybe that’s down
to Katie too). Dr Parr, sits calm and serene, on the window sill behind her.
One thing he’s always admired about Nisha’s work, he remarks, is her
calm, her inability to get flustered. He used to think that it would be a good
idea to bottle some of that calm and market it. But not now. Now he can see
she’s all too
.
Nisha apologises. The truth is, she confesses, Katie has no tummy bug. She’s simply in a state.
Dr Parr settles back to listen.
She’s drinking again, Nisha says, with despair in her voice. Honestly, it’s been a year since Clint died, and she’s in a right state still. The other night, Nisha confesses, she got frustrated by her inability to deal with this constant depression. She told Katie a few home truths about Clint and suggested that she needed professional help.
Dr Parr admits that he had a similar conversation with Katie some weeks back. What about her sister? Couldn’t Sammy help?
Nisha shrugs. Sammy’s no use. She’s too preoccupied with her daughter. Anyway, Sammy reckons that once Katie gets past this one-year anniversary, she’ll get better.
(Why didn’t Nisha confess to the doctor how both she and Sammy encourage Katie to drink?)
Tim has finished filling up his white van with petrol. He climbs inside and starts the engine. As he’s ready to pull out of the garage, he sees Ray and Helen, arm in arm, leave the bar in The Parade and walk in the direction of the Close.
‘You lying get!’ Tim mutters, under his breath.
Adele crosses The Parade in the direction of the garage, when she’s set upon by Josh. He’s teasing her about her orange and blotchy tan. When HE lived in Brazil, Josh brags, EVERYONE had a suntan. (Sure. They got it by playing football with Pele and dancing the samba in the streets to Astrud Gilberto songs, after which they would all lounge about on the beach. Pull the other one, Brookside! Talk about stereotyping!)
Adele is annoyed and tells the little, shaven-headed creep to do one.
Tim cockily enters Hotel Corkhill, where the wounded Sage sits moodily staring into space. Tim asks Jimmy if Helen’s around at Ray’s.
No, Jim replies, sullenly.
Well, Tim thinks she is, he says, smugly. In fact, he spied Helen and Ray leaving the bar. Looked as though they’d been there for a drink, he says. And they were headed back this way. Jimmy should get over there, he urges.
Jimmy refuses.
Get over there, Tim encourages, now.
No, replies Jimmy, uncertainly. What if Ray calls the police or something? For harrassment?
Get over there, nags Tim.
Over at the Dixons’, Rachel has her glad rags on and gives Mike a twirl. They’re ready to go out on their big evening. Mike is impressed, although he admits that he never thought he’d see the day he’d be excited about going for a bevy.
Oooh, witters Rache the Dim, sho-ah her good time’n she’d giv’em soomthink ter get ‘sited bowt.
Well, then, jokes Mike, he’d better go wash his hands.
At that moment Helen and Ray enter from the kitchen area and Happy Smiling Helen bobs her head and compliments Rachel on her dress. Rachel is embarrassed and disappears upstairs, leaving Mike standing in the kitchen.
Helen asks Ray if he’s seen Jimmy, as she and Ray take a seat at the table in the kitchen area.
Ray avoids answering the question, rummaging around in the biscuit tin and complaining about some biscuits being past their sell-by date (like Brookside).
Happy Smiling Helen, still smiling, susses that Ray was aware of Jimmy’s mental health problem before she was. Ray confesses, sheepishly, that he knew about this and wanted to tell her. In fact, he wishes he had told her.
Happy Smiling Helen, still smiling and bobbing her head, tells Ray how she ran away when Jimmy told her about his illness. Helen confesses that she likes Jimmy, but not how he wants her to like him, now that she knows about this.
Ray says severely that, in his opinion, Jimmy is in no position to be courting. Ray should know; after all, it’s not been two years since Ray stood on a school roof with Jimmy, coaxing him out of suicide.
No, as far as he’s concerned, this relationship with Helen should be a non-starter. Jimmy Corkhill is a danger to himself, and not less , to others. Helen has Steph to think about, Ray warns.
Dr Parr and Nisha are clearing up after a shift. Dr Parr reminds Nisha that he has a PCT meeting scheduled for the next day, as well as Mrs Tucker’s inquest to attend tomorrow afternoon. He wasn’t looking forward to that, he admits, and he feared facing her family. In fact, he could hear their comments now - ‘Why didn’t the doctor do more?’ - ‘Why, that doctor’s just out of short trousers’ -
Nisha assures him that she’ll be there at the inquest to hold his hand. The she confesses that she’s not looking forward to her evening; there’s just too much going on psychologically and otherwise, upstairs.
Dr Parr suggests that he and Nisha meet up for a meal and a drink that evening, as he would be on his own.
Wouldn’t his wife mind? Asks Nisha, coyly.
Not at all, says the doctor. She was at a school governors’ meeting that evening, and they take hours.
Jacqui Farnham walks back onto the Close in the jealous company of Dire Murray, the woman who secretly thinks Jacqui has no right to breed. As they reach the entrance to the Close, they stop and gaze for a moment at the eyesore the bungalow’s become.
Jacqui asks Dire if she feels as though she’s living in the middle of a building site. Honestly, a site like that can only bring house prices down on the street, especially at a time when she’s trying to sell her house.
By the way, she remarks to Dire, has Dire noticed all those posters about Imelda Clough in The Parade. Oh, it must be such a worry for her poor mother, Jacqui empathises (not very convincingly).
Dire scurries off, and Jacqui encounters Ron, who asks sarcastically if Jacqui were admiring the bungalow’s view.
Jacqui immediately rounds on Ron, asking him why he didn’t tell her he wasn’t staying at Bev’s anymore?
Ron obliquely replies that the living arrangements didn’t exactly work out. Oh, and whilst Jacqui was so interested in gazing at the bungalow, Ron apprises her of another idea Bev had, which just might sort out Jacqui’s moving dilemma. Perhaps Jacqui and Max would like to view a house not too far from here, he suggests.
Jacqui is bewildered.
Jacqui and Max could skip all that house-hunting malarkey, Ron says, cryptically. He points to Number 8. ‘Big house,’ he remarks. Then he indicates Chateau Farnham. ‘Little house,’ he concludes. Ron, in short, proposes that he swap houses with the Farnhams.
Is Ron bartering for the laundry tender? Jacqui teases.
Look, Ron reasons with his daughter, she and her family need to move for more space. Ron wants a smaller property. This way they would still be next door to each other.
Jacqui pauses for thought. Finally she admits that, whilst there must be a million reasons NOT to do this, she can’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t. Max might not like the idea, she warns, but she promises Ron that she’ll talk to Max.
Jimmy stares forlornly out the front window of Hotel Corkhill in the direction of Number 8, where Happy Smiling Helen is ensconced behind the front door. Tim stands supportively behind Jimmy, encouraging Jimmy to walk across the Close and attempt to see Helen.
Jimmy shakes his head stubbornly. Helen knows where he is, he says. If she wants to see him, she’ll come over.
Look, Tim says, in exasperation, if Tim were standing there moaning about Emily being on the other side of the Close, Jimmy would be nagging him no end to get round there and sort the situation out. Tim says he’s never known Jimmy Corkhill to give up on anything he wanted badly.
Tim walks away, having applied the psychological touch. (I suppose one has a bit of the professional skill rub off on one, when one lives with Dr Nikki, who’s been curiously absent).
At that moment, Jimmy sees Happy Smiling Helen emerge from Number 8 and say her good-byes to Raymundo on the doorstep. As she starts to leave the Close by foot, Jimmy suddenly bolts from the front door of Hotel Corkhill and walk in her direction, calling her name.
As Happy Smiling Helen hears her name called, she turns briefly, before she ceases to smile and, head bobbing ludicrously, proceeds to leg it from the Close, Jimmy running desperately after her and calling her.
Ray watches from the doorway, his face a mixture of disgust and pity.
Jimmy eventually catches up with the woman in the pathway to The Parade, as Josh passes them, walking in the direction of the Close. Ray’s spied Helen stopping and sees her turn to face Jimmy, and he legs it over to the couple, shouting at Jimmy as he arrives.
Helen wants to go home, he shouts at Jim. Jimmy was to leave the woman alone and let her go.
Jimmy’s paying Ray no mind; instead he’s desperately talking AT Helen, who’s not happy or smiling anymore, although her head bobs up and down with fright. Jimmy could understand, he says, how he might have scared Helen the other evening. Why, Jimmy’s scared every day of his life, he says. Living in that house, after his marriage broke up, he continues, his head was all over the place. All he wants, he whines, is a proper friend, someone to whom he could talk, he pleads, someone who could help him to get back on track with his life.
Ray’s shouting all this time too, trying to pull Happy Smiling Helen out of Jimmy’s insistent grasp, until it appears that the two men are having a tug-of-war with the woman.
Suddenly, Helen orders all talk to stop. Turning to Jimmy, she suggests that they go to his house and have a chat.
As Mike and Rachel are preparing to go out, the doorbell rings. Mike answers it, only to have Josh push determinedly past him and flop down sullenly on the sofa in the Dixon lounge.
Mike, who’s clearly put out, asks Josh what he’s doing there. He and Rachel were going out, he says.
‘Me Moom sent me,’ Josh replies. ‘SHE says YOU’RE ter help out fer once and that yer not ter fob me off on Ray.’
This is YOUR problem, hisses Rachel, angrily, as she turns and disappears upstairs in anger and disappointment.
Nisha has popped back upstairs to check on poor, pitiful Katie, who sits, green-faced and fetid, still dressed in her pj’s on the sofa. Nisha asks solicitously how Katie’s feeling, but spying the empy vodka bottle lying on the coffee table, she knows the answer. She picks up the empty bottle with disdain, as if she were picking up a piece of shit (which is basically what Katie is and probably smells like) with her bare hands.
Katie weakly tries to apologise, but it’s clear from her tone that she doesn’t mean it.
Katie can apologise, but it’s no good, Nisha snaps, coldly. She orders her to get up and get dressed. She’s covered for Katie at the clinic today, she says, but Katie HAS to put in an appearance tomorrow. Dr Parr’s patience is wearing thin.
Sammy arrives at that moment from her shift at the Health Club and is annoyed to see that the state of the flat is even worse than it was in the morning. What the hell’s been going on? This place is a tip, she moans. And WHERE’S this cleaner Nisha’s supposed to be sorting out? How did the place get this way anyway-
As poor, pitiful Katie is guided into her lair by Nisha, Nisha turns briefly in Sammy’s direction and makes a drinking motion with her hand. When she’s deposited the stinking wretch in her lair, she admonishes Sammy. See what happens to her when she’s left on her own. This is getting serious, Nisha warns, and it’s scaring her.
Surely, Nisha doesn’t think Katie capable of committing suicide, Sammy says. Sure she might talke about it, but she’d never do it. It’s the people who talk about it, who don’t do it, Sammy concludes, with authority.
There are some people who DO talk about it and do it, and they might not mean to. All the same, Nisha says, she’s keeping her on a tight watch.
Happy Smiling Helen sits facing Jimmy on the sofa at Hotel Corkhill. She apologises, bobbing her head, for running away the other evening. That was unforgivable.
Jimmy insists that he was to blame. After all, it’s not the best romantic come-on for a woman to be told that the fella’s a manic-depressive. He continues. Both he and Helen weren’t kids anymore, he says, and there was no need to play games. He likes her, he says simply, and he wants more in their relationship.
Helen confesses that although she likes Jimmy, she’s scared. She doesn’t understand the nature of his illness. She wouldn’t know what to do when he had one of his turns -
An episode, interrupts Jimmy. It’s called an episode.
She wouldn’t know what to do when Jimmy had an episode, she resumes. Besides, she’s got her daughter to think about. A relationship with Jimmy at this point in her life is a big commitment, perhaps too big for her.
But, Jimmy protests, Helen was fine in her feelings toward Jimmy BEFORE he told her about his illness. So he takes medication. As long as he does that, he’s OK. He’s the same fella as yesterday before she knew.
The problem is with HER, Helen confesses.
If he had told her he had cancer, Jimmy questions, would she have run away then?
(SORRY. RANT TIME. AS SOMEONE WHO HAS HAD CANCER, I FIND THIS LINE DEEPLY OFFENSIVE. CANCER IS A DISEASE THAT, IN MANY INSTANCES, CAN BE CURED. MANIC-DEPRESSION CAN BE TREATED, BUT IT’S AN ON-GOING CONDITION. TO EVEN COMPARE THE TWO IS UNREALISTIC).
Of course she wouldn’t, Helen asserts, offended.
THAT’S the stigma of mental illness, Jimmy rants. Cancer’s acceptable.
Helen bites back. She pleads with Jimmy firmly not to make her feel guilty about this. Jimmy must try to understand the uncertainty in her own life at the moment. She’s just lost her mother, found out that she was adopted and found her birth father. She simply doesn’t need anymore upheaval in her life at the present time.
Does that mean their friendship is over? Jimmy asks, undaunted.
‘It means we’ll see how things go,’ Helen says, gently.
Jimmy, his ego intact, takes heart from this remark. In that case, he ventures, is Helen free next week?
Helen is reluctant to give any sort of definite answer. She rises to go, telling Jimmy that she’ll ‘keep in touch.’
Neil Jones wrote this one too. A bit better. Less of the smut and flesh
references. Ben Hull and Alex Fletcher were good, but Bernie Nolan is an increasing
dead loss.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002