FIT
Look at the title. FIT. Consider it. It’s a word that can mean many things, and - in many ways - it can describe Brookside at the moment.
‘Fit’ is a word that is used - rather OVERUSED - by the sort of target audience to which Brookside is currently aiming; and, needless to say, it’s a word used by their target group to describe various members of the Brookside cast. If you happen to be a young girl between the ages of 10 and 16, but at the lower end of the IQ level of that age group, you, at various times could and would describe the following Brookside characters as ‘fit’: Tim, Plank, Dr Parr, Jerome and Antony Murray.
If you are male and between the ages of 15 and 24 and similarly unintelligent, the same word can be applied to the likes of Emily, Nikki and the breasts of Bev and Rachel.
For both these age groups, Leanne is ugly (and therefore, she must be axed), Christy is boring, Bev is too old to be enjoying sex and everyone over the age of forty in the soap must be dispensed with. Anyone issuing any divergent opinion on the Offical Forum message board declares open season on himself/herself and must be subjected to verbal abuse of the four-letter type.
However, ‘fit’ can be a noun as well. It’s a seizure of sorts, but it can be used to describe a tantrum too - as in ‘hissy fit’. Now this applies to another group of Brookside viewer. These are either sensitive young men, also between the ages of 16 and 24, or frustrated women, usually from Liverpool or Scotland (for some reason, Scotswomen seem to identify with Brookside), with an optimistic bend and a nephew/niece/neighbour/cousin/uncle/babysitter who knows the friend of an uncle of a cousin of a mother of one of the actors in Brookside, and therefore defends the show to the hilt. Now this sort of viewer can be particularly NASTY.
This sort of viewer looks forward to the arrival of the new family. In fact, a variant of this species, being a male resident in the vicinity of Aberdeen with a particular penchant for rabbits, might even go as far as sending a large bouquet of flowers to be deposited on the doorstep of the old Johnson/Grant/Rogers home to welcome the actors there on the day of their arrival. This sort of viewer thinks Brookside is getting better and better, has a chip on his/her shoulder because, being from the North, they think anyone from the Southeast has an easy life and therefore, isn’t entitled to appreciate/understand Brookside.
This sort of viewer likes to think of himself/herself as liberally-minded, simply because he/she likes Brookside and approves of Phil Redmond’s spin. Liberal and open-minded, because they don’t mind near-pornographic sex before the watershed - even allow the kids to watch it. But express a negative opinion of Brookside, and the wrath of a vengeful god descends upon the perpetrator’s head.
These people begin their dissention with the classic sentence, ‘I know everyone’s entitled to their own opinion BUT ...’ And then launches into a diatribe about how the dissenter really ISN’T entitled to an opinion at ALL, because the dissenter doesn’t like or approve of what is being seen on Brookside. Their so-called ARGUMENT then descends into a torrent of abuse. Ask them about other soaps and they’re filled with excuses. Such as:-
‘Brookside won two soap awards and Corrie won one. We’re on the up and Corrie’s on the slide.’ WRONG. Brookside won two consolation prizes, awarded by the ‘panel’, because - left to the viewers - this year’s soap awards would have been a clean sweep by Eastenders, which can’t be seen to happen. Coronation Street is mindful of Eastenders’ success, and next year might be a different kettle of fish, to coin an old Cockney phrase.
‘Eastenders and Corrie SHOULD be better than Brookside, because they have all sorts of money thrown at them by the licence fee and Cadbury’s.’ Not true. Brookside had a budget the equivalent of Coronation Street for the year 2000. It was spent tarting up The Parade, filling Dean Sullivan’t pockets, hiring Graham Norton and the ever-greedy CaroL Smillie for one appearance and ferreting six Brookside actresses, an accountant, a physiotherapist and assorted film crew on a jolly to Marbella for a fortnight. All First Class, I might add. Sour grapes, to use a phrase coined by one such Liverpool fishwife who posts Disneyesque rants on the Official Forum - but sour grapes on the part of Brookside.
Tough shit, I say - and that rhymes with ‘fit’. If Brookside wants a quality sponsor - such as Nestles, which opted to go with Hollyoaks - Brookside has to earn it. It’s not doing such a great job, is it.
May I repeat the final point. ‘Fit’ also rhymes with ‘shit’ - and that about sums Brookside up at the moment.
Another day dawns. Bev steps from her bedroom into the open-plan kitchen/lounge to see the place covered with styrofoam balls from a punctured bean bag.
(Question, right away: Bev returns from work at night around midnightish, after closing the place et al. Josh would, rigthly, have been in bed. But Bev would have to turn on the light. And surely, she would have seen this mess. Of course the catterwaul would begin the next morning - but why such a shock now?)
She instantly begins to scream for Josh.
In the flat next door, the shrieking sound of Bev ticking Josh off can be heard by Dr Parr and his wife.
Ron and Rachel sit at the breakfast table at the Dixons’. (Where ARE Jessie and Ray? That lot must eat in shifts!)
Rachel brings out a hand-made anniversary card, presumably scribbled by Beth with some help from Rachel, who can’t do much better than scribble, herself, and places it near Mike’s empty plate. She places another one, from herself, painstakingly printed, beside it.
Bev hauls a recalcitrant Josh, his little Neanderthal face glowering, into the lounge area and points to the bean bag. She begins a verbal tirade about Josh committing this act of vandalism and orders him to clear it up.
Dr Parr is beset by the raucous shouting coming from the McLoughlin flat. Gaby the Grin is strangely calm about the situation. In fact, she reckons it’s probably Bev’s way of getting back at Dr Parr, for shouting, first at Josh and then at Bev, herself, the day before.
Back at the Dixons’, Rachel has received a card from Mandy. Ooh, she witters, as she opens the envelope, caaahd froom me moom. Inside, she finds the princely sum of five pounds. (What a generous gesture from Mandy, who earns thousands of pounds, travelling the world - all expenses paid - lecturing abused women on how to kill abusive spouses and get away with it - can only afford to send her daughter a fiver for her anniversary.)
Ron, seeing the words ‘Happy Anniversary’ on the front of the card held by Rachel, assumes a burlesquely exaggerated look of discomfort at the fact that he had forgotten his son’s and daughter-in-law’s anniversary.
Gulping down his coffee, he wishes Rachel a ‘Happy Anniversary’, saying that he’d forgotten the date, and promises to pick up something for her and Mike later - at the garage, of course. (What, pray tell? A tin of 10W/40 and a foot pump?)
Meanwhile, back at Bev’s flat, she stands over Josh and the mess of styrofoam bean bag material and informs him that she’s not going to touch the mess until Josh returns from school. Then he’ll have the honour of clearing it up.
Dr Parr and his wife listen to the end of the barrage of shrieks emanating from Bev’s flat. Gaby the Grin, surprisingly, has a lot of sympathy for Josh, referring to him as that ‘poor kid’.
Dr Parr has no sympathy for the little thug at all. He tells Gaby the Grin succinctly that SHE wasn’t on the receiving end of the verbal abuse that the doctor received when he ticked the kid off for playing football in the foyer. AND the mother is worse, he reckons.
Gaby the Grin wonders if Bev’s ever heard any of their barnies.
Dr Parr assumes his mantle of dignity, assuring Gaby the Grin that THEY didn’t have arguments - merely heated discussions.
Well, anyway, Gaby comments, if the doc continues to tick the kid off like that, they’ll get a reputation for being snotty neighbours. Living cheek by jowl like this in this building, she says, almost makes her feel responsible for Josh. After all, it takes a village to raise a child. (SOMEBODY’S read Hilary Clinton’s book).
Gaby then informs Dr Parr that SHE’S going to try the kindness approach with Josh and Bev. The last thing she wanted the couple to do was to alienate their neighbours.
Ron’s preparing to leave the house, and Rachel reminds him not to forget that he was due to meet Bev later on.
Ron isn’t likely to forget, but he’s not at all eager to see Bev, especially since she wants to discuss Josh with him. He tells Rachel that he’s off out to post his junk mail back to their distributors. Ooh, Rachel replies in wonder, she joost bins ‘ers.
Upstairs, Beth begins to cry, and Rachel moves toward the foyer to go upstairs. She tells Ron that Beth was restless all night and hope she doesn’t have a temperature again. Anyway, she continues, she has a surprise planned for Mike when he arrives home later that morning.
Ron quips that he hopes it’s not another night in a swish hotel.
Before they begin their day, Jacqui and Max have been out surveying the back garden. Max is still adamant that he wants Ron to cede some of Number 7’s land to him in order to make the garden bigger. After all, he tells Jacqui, it’s just a matter of moving the boundary and the fence a few metres. They needed a bigger garden more than Ron as they had two kids.
Jacqui promises to speak to Ron about ceding the land - just as long as Max is sure this won’t jeopardise the move.
Mike arrives home from work with a bouquet of flowers he’s bought for Rachel to celebrate their anniversary. Aa he kisses his wife, he tells her that he was worried about Beth’s illness all night long.
Oooh, says Rachel, Beth’s doon made M-eye-ke caad. Hit’s on table.
Mike hugs Rachel and smiles the usual dopey smile he smiles just when something’s about to go wrong. He’s a lucky man, he reckons, especially to come home to Rachel and Beth. (But are THEY so lucky too?)
As Mike takes his seat at the breakfast table, Rachel informs him that they’ve received cards from both DD and Mandy, and Mike sincerely hopes that those cards are stuffed with money.
(See what a scrounger this dolt is?)
Jacqui’s dropped by Bev’s and is astonished to see the state of the place, with the bean bag detritus all over the floor. Bev waves Jacqui’s astonishment aside, informing her that this was just the result of Josh going on the rampage.
Jacqui’s just popped up to tell Bev that a delivery’s just arrived that Jacqui’s refused to sign for. It’s a consignment of tablecloths and napkins that Bev had ordered.
Oh, but Jacqui must sign for them, exclaims Bev.
Jacqui informs Bev that she thought the design on the tablecloths and napkins was dead tacky. Bev argues that it was more kitsch. Well, whatever, Jacqui says, it’s not the image she wants to convey in the bar.
Bev is slightly miffed and tells Jacqui that she thought she was the manager of the place. Does that mean Bev can’t make managerial decisions on her own, or does everything have to be ‘ABJ’ (approved by Jacqui)?
Well, yes, at the moment, Jacqui says, until the business is back on its feet.
Bev offers Jacqui a coffee, but Jacqui demurs, saying that she’s run ragged that morning. She does, however, ask Bev if she’s managed to sort out a child minder for Josh.
Bev assures her that she has. In fact, the Murray girl had volunteered to sit with Josh for a few evenings. Maybe she’ll need a whip and chain.
Jacqui leaves and Bev, in a disgruntled voice, tells her she’ll see Jacqui later ... Not.
Mike Dixon, meanwhile, hungrily opens the anniversary cards sent to him and Rachel by various and sundry relatives and in-laws. He’s expecting mega dosh, but is clearly dismayed that Mandy Jordache could only stump up a fiver for their celebrations. Well, he quips, that’s a fiver with which he can buy sweets for Beth (thus ensuring that successive generations of dentists are kept in business catering to the Dixon rotten teeth).
Rachel, bursting with excitement at the fact that she’s got an expensive surprise ‘fer M-eye-ke’, drops a hint as broad as her arse and asks him how his toothache is faring. Mike’s not bothered by his toothache; he’s more interested in hoping that Rachel’s booked another expensive hotel break, so she can borrow another one of Jacqui’s expensive nighties which ALWAYS SOMEHOW manage to fit Rachel’s ample frame.
Mike rips open his anniversary card, opens it, and his face drops a mile in dejection. Out plops a dental appointment card, with an appointment for that very week. The camera focuses a moment on Mike’s disappointed surprise. He raises his eyes and glances across the table at his dim-witted wife, who’s doing her party piece of smiling idiotically and furiously blinking her eyes.
Is Rachel crazy? Mike asks, frowning with worry. He waves the card about. This sort of thing will cost a fortune.
The person holding the camcorder rips across the table to catch Rachel’s verbal reaction.
Oooh, she whispers, conspiratorily, smiling and nodding her head with glee. Do-an hav ter wor-reh bowt tha’, she confides. Tha’s alred-deh paid fer.
Camcorder rips back to Mike’s profile. How can that be? He wants to know.
Camcorder rips back to Rachel. (This is supposed to be creative and innovative filming. ALL the Brookside rah-rahs on the Official Forum should be crowing with glee by now. Why such cinematography is CERTAIN to win Brookside all kinds of awards).
Oooh, Rachel announces, practically giggling. Oooh, she barra’d moon-eh. F-eye-ve hoondred pownd.
Camcorder rips back to Mike, who’s now becoming seriously concerned. Who loaned her the money? He demands. Jacqui? His Dad?
Camcorder rips back to Rachel, who’s suddenly twigged that M-eye-ke’s not about to be too pleased to find where she found the money.
Oooh, Rachel twitters, in a worried tone. Oooh, she got lo-an offer in po-ast. Lo-an comp’ny give her moon-eh.
Camcorder rips back to Mike, who rises abruptly from the table in consternation at the abject stupidity of his wife. He’s clearly ballistic.
‘You did WHAT?’ He exclaims. ‘I do not believe you did this. We’re already paying off a loan we can’t afford. And you go and borrow MORE money to throw at some dentist! Well, I don’t want it!’
Oooh, cries Rachel, in hurt disbelief. It were a present. M-eye-ke cain’t throw back present at her!
Mike glowers at her disparagingly. He’s off to bed, he announces and stomps from the room.
(A couple of observations here: Besides the fact that I STILL cannot fathom how Mike and Rachel can be in such debt, why is the cost of the dentist such a problem? Are there no NHS dentists in Liverpool? Plenty on the rich South Coast. An initial exam would cost anyplace between a fiver - supplied by Mandy - and twelve pounds. As Mike’s in pain, the treatment would also be covered by the NHS and the cost would be a minimum. And secondly, this scene just shows how cravenly ignorant the writers have allowed her to become. That she’s more concerned at Mike throwing back a gift bought with borrowed funds on borrowed time than she is with the fact that she’s just driven the couple even further into the mire of debt says it all about the shallowness of her character, much less her mind).
Ron’s called around Bev’s as she wanted him to do. Upon entering the flat, of course, the first thing he spies is the demolished bean bag and its contents spewing all over the floor. Bloody Norah! Exclaims Ron. What happened here?
Bev blithely lies and says she got a bit frustrated and took her frustration out on the bean bag.
Ron doesn’t buy it. ‘Josh,’ he surmises, correctly.
Bev lowers her head in shame.
Ron gazes about the mess in disbelief. And Bev seriously expects him to look after Josh in the evenings? He asks rhetorically.
Well, not EVERY evening, Bev says, hastily. She’s managed to convince the Murray girl to take on a few evenings. And she’s also managed to get the After School Club to take him back.
But what about weekends when Bev’s working? Ron asks.
Bev lowers her head again and screws up her mouth, mutely begging Ron with her eyes to oblige.
Ron takes the hint and shakes his head vigorously. Oh no, not him. Not HIS weekends.
Bev immediately begins to plead desperately. Ron HAS to do this, she begs. He doesn’t understand. If she fobs off work again, because of Josh, Jacqui will sack her. She’s already threatened to do so, she lies. And if she loses her job, she’ll lose her home and Josh will be taken into care and -
All right, all right, Ron concedes, wearily. But everytime he babysits Josh, it takes years off his life.
Downstairs in the Walk-In Clinic, it’s coffee break time. Nisha the Naughtie Nudie Nurse offers to do the honours, but the noble Dr Parr intercepts her efforts and begins to make the coffee, himself. He’s not above such menial tasks, he insists. Besides, he notices Nisha’s in a particularly good mood today. She’s usually -
A miserable, old boot? Finishes Nisha, laughing at his implication.
Well, she was inordinately happy, remarks Dr Parr. What did she do? He wants to know. Manage to succeed in turfing Katie and Sammy out onto the street? Only the good doctor knows too well how things at home can wear a person down at work.
Nisha admits that things ARE better in the flat - at least, Katie was trying to be a bit more positive. In fact, it was Katie who suggested the intended girls’ night out, which they were planning for that evening.
Well, responds the doctor, dubiously, maybe Katie IS over the worst. Then he narrows his eyes and glances at Nisha. Was this evening out STRICTLY for girls only? He wants to know.
Thinking he’s having a laugh, Nisha responds in kind. Only for girls, she confirms.
Ron returns home to find Rachel justifiably clucking worriedly over Beth. She’s taking the child’s temperature. Beth, meanwhile, sits serenely, smiling and cooing at her REAL mother, who’s just off-camera.
As Ron enters the lounge, Rachel stands and studies the thermometer, squinting her eyes, screwing up her face and trying to make sense out of the reading - hard thing to do, since Rachel doesn’t know how to read properly anyway. Ron’s concerned, as there appears to be a problem.
Oooh, Rachel replies, hit’s Beth. Tem’cher’s oop and down.
Ron asks where Mike is, and Rachel tells him that Mike’s upstairs asleep (but neglects to mention that he’s also in a sulk). OMIGOD! Suddenly, Rachel is able to read the thermometer ... And it says that Beth’s temperature is 102 degrees!!! (That’s Fahrenheit, not Celsius).
Ron tells Rachel severely that that’s a high temperature, and Rachel shouldn’t think about taking the child out in a state like that.
Ooh, says Rachel, ooh, best tek Beth ter clinic.
No, advises Ron. She’s too sick to go out. Instead, Rachel should call the doctor out to see Beth - that is, if doctors still do house calls.
As Max leaves The Shelf at the end of a hard day’s non-slog, who should he encounter in the foyer to the flats, but Gaby the Grin, herself, also returning from a hard day of doing whatever she does (probably corporate prostitution). The two greet each other effusively, before Gaby cries off, saying teasingly that she’s looking forward to a nice, long bath to soak away ALL that terrible, ol’ stress that Gaby the Grin has to endure day in, day out.
Max rises to the occasion, in more ways than one, as obviously the mental picture of Gaby the Grin cavorting naked in her bath appeals to various parts of his anatomy. What a good idea, he flirts, and adds that he hopes that Gaby the Grin has LOTS of bubbles in her bath.
Gaby reiterates that she’s just about to go into her flat to have her bath, thus signalling to Max that his services aren’t required YET. As Max turns to go, he disparages himself for making the remark about bubbles.
Dr Parr, at the same time, is finishing off his house call at the Dixons’. He’s examined Beth’s throat and ears and confirms to Rachel that both are all right. She’s probably picked up a bit of a bug, he says, and the temperature is rising to ward off any further infection. He advises the simple-minded Rachel to bathe the child in tepid water if her temperature rises too high. And if she gets any worse, Rachel should call him, but with any luck, the child should be all right by the next day.
As he bids good-bye, Ron grumbles about the NHS coming down to nothing more than a dose of hope and luck.
Bev has returned from school with the recalcitrant future thug for England, Josh. She deposits him in the middle of the lounge and warns him that he’s to have no TV until all the bean bag mess has been cleaned up. In the meantime, Bev says, she’s off to have a bath. Josh squats sullenly in the middle of the mess, a truculent, frown on his Neanderthal face. Suddenly, he has a brilliant idea - we know it’s brilliant, because his demonic eyes light up and he smiles wickedly. The more intelligent viewer half expects his head to spin round on his shoulders, as Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells strike up in the background.
Downstairs, Dr Parr and Nisha have finished for the day and leave the clinic. He’s off to complete more rounds. As they prepare to part, Nisha stops long enough to thank him for all his support as a friend for the past couple of weeks.
He’s glad to be of support, Dr Parr promises, and queries further the possibility of being included in their girls’ night out.
As Nisha laughs about this, suddenly they are bombarded from above by round styrofoam pellets being heaped over the balcony. Josh has found a way of clearing up his mess.
Mike has managed to struggle from his bed, only to be told of the doctor’s visit by Rachel. Mike asks Rachel if she’s happy with the doctor’s diagnosis of Beth. Rachel replies that she’s quite happy with that, but she’s not happy with the fact that Mike won’t accept her anniversary present.
Rachel explains to Ron that she’s arranged some dental appointments for Mike, but she neglects to tell Ron how she’s paid for the treatment. She can’t put up with Mike’s tooth pain any longer, and Ron agrees. Mike’s like a bear with a sore head, with his toothache.
And everyone has to put up with his pain, vouchsafes Rachel. Well, she were fed oop wi’it!
Ron announces to the couple that he has to pop next door to Jacqui’s for a bit, and before he goes, he gathers up a clipboard, notepad and tape measure.
As Ron leaves by the front door, Mike gazes after him, suspiciously. It’s strange the way he’s always popping over to Jacqui’s lately, he remarks to Rachel, and everytime Ron goes, he’s always got that clipboard and tape measure. Something’s going on, he’s sure of it, something they’re not telling him and Rachel.
Rachel just tells him to shut up and make the dental appointment.
Having finished ‘cleaning’ his mess, Josh now sits in front of the TV console, playing a computer game. The volume is loud enough to disturb Bev, who’s presumably turning into a prune in the bathtub. She shouts for Josh to turn the volume down before he disturbs the neighbours. Josh, grinning wickedly, turns the volume higher, which makes Bev shout even more.
This kid SERIOUSLY needs a smack.
And the racket already HAS annoyed the neighbours, as next door, Dr Parr, having returned from rounds, bangs sharply on the adjoining wall.
Gaby the Grin, stands nearby, arms folded, calmly watching her spouse decompensate, with her lips pursed in the classic ‘I-told-you-so’ pose. As the doctor bangs hopelessly, Gaby observes that it WAS the doctor who started this war. He surely couldn’t blame Josh for justifiably having a go back.
It will ONLY get worse, warns Dr Parr.
And then he’ll be halfway to kicking their door down, comments Gaby the Grin dryly, walking to the refrigerator and removing a large bottle of wine.
Dr Parr, bewildered, asks her what she proposes to do.
She’s going to try the friendly approach, Gaby the grin announces, grinning smugly. The wine is a peace offering.
(Or does Gaby the Grin have ulterior motives, and has she sussed that Bev is pig-shit ignorant and has a big gob?)
The Farnhams and Ron stand in the Farnham back garden, and Max is proposing the ceding of part of the Farnham garden onto Number 8’s boundary. Max, with Jacqui standing nearby, illustrates to Ron how much garden he’d stand to lose, when he and the Farnhams switch houses.
Ron’s dubious about this. He stands to lose land with a change of boundary, he tells Max. Max replies that he’ll only lose a few metres of land in the bargain, but Ron stops him cold. If they’re going to measure the amount of land to cede, he quips, tapping Max against the shoulder with his tape measure, they’ll measure it properly - in feet and inches.
Max grabs the tape measure to begin the job, observing to Jacqui that her dad certainly wouldn’t want to be paid in euros.
Meanwhile, Gaby the Grin stands contritely in Bev’s kitchen as Bev clutches the bottle of wine. Bev shouts to Josh that he’s annoyed Dr Parr yesterday and today, Mrs Parr’s come around with a complaint about his behaviour and noise.
Turning to face Gaby the Grin, Bev admits that she’s helpless to control her son, but Gaby brushes her apology away. After all, it’s not Josh’s fault, she says with understanding, that the walls are like paper.
This ‘understanding’ signals permission for a gigantic moan of self-pity from Bev. Honestly, she wails, she TRIES to do the right thing and she WANTS to be a good mother, but it’s hard on her own. Mind you, she knows Josh is no angel, and she’s not one of those mothers who’s reluctant to accept the fact that her child’s done wrong -
Yadda yadda. Yeah, sure. Bev is EXACTLY the sort of mother who comes into a classroom like a bull in a china shop, threatening the teacher, the school and the education authority with violence the moment her little darling is caught in an act of classroom crime. WATCH the episodes. Bev is EXACTLY that way. But then, according to Bev, she’s ALWAYS been of good character. I could write an essay why she’s an abysmal mother and why Josh is the way he is, but this is a Brookside summary. If anyone cares to discuss this on either the Soapbox or Brooksider, let’s do. It’s no good trying on the Official Forum, because there are too many adolescents who’ve been indulged the way Josh has in the past. It would either go straight over their mindless heads, or the discussion would turn into another flame war.
Max and Jacqui have measured up in feet and inches and now show Ron the proposed boundary changes, but Ron is STILL not sure about this. Jacqui points out to Ron that, being on his own, he wouldn’t have the need for such a big garden, but Ron, selfless soul that he is, informs Jacqui that he’s only thinking about the people who might come after him - in the long-term.
The Farnhams and Ron now move into the front garden, as Mike Dixon watches them intently from the windows next door. He’s so enthralled in watching his father, sister and brother-in-law, that he pays no mind to the mindless nagging of his wife.
M-eye-ke, she nags, is drivin’em all mad. M-eye-ke wants ter think of others -
But Mike interrupts to draw her attention to Jacqui, Max and Ron, who stand on the pavement between Number 7 and Number 8, gazing at the two properties and talking amongst themselves.
Rachel is now curious by their performance and asks Mike if he knows what’s going on.
SOMETHING’S happening, Mike concurs, but whatever it is, you can bet he and Rachel will be the last to know about it.
Back at Bev’s, Bev and Gaby the Grin sit on Bev’s sofa. Bev has taken the gift bottle of wine and opened it, and now she and her new ‘bezzy mate’ Gaby are doing just that - gabbing. Well, Bev’s doing most of it, which is what Gaby wants - Bev opening her big gob and being indiscreet. In the background, loud rock music plays on the stereo.
Josh, Bev’s saying, slightly beginning to slur her words, is the bane of her existence. The kid has absolutely no clue what effect he has on other people. (Hmmm ... Sounds as though Josh needs to see a psychiatrist. He’s either got the makings of a sociopath or he’s spoiled rotten - probably the latter). Honestly, Bev moans, she DOES try to tell Josh right from wrong.
Gaby the Grin coyly points out that Josh has successfully managed to set Dr Parr on the warpath.
Honestly, Bev pleads, Josh ISN’T a bad lad. He’s just had a difficult start in life, she mentions, hoping to garner self-pity, as all poor whites do for their plights.
Oooh, tuts Gaby the Grin in mock sympathy, barely concealing her nosiness. How has he had a bad start in life? She tops up Bev’s drink.
Well, Bev gabs, they had to live out of the country for awhile, and before that, Josh was in care for a time, she discloses, glossing over the incident.
(By the way, has Bev got a divorce from Fred yet?)
Gaby the Grin cooes sympathetically. What about Josh’s father? She asks. Is he around?
Bev snorts derisively. He’s around, all right. Not that he wants to know. Trouble is, at the time Bev conceived Josh, she was having a thing with this older fella, and she had a mini-thing with his son; so for awhile, Bev was unsure who Josh’s dad was. Turned out the man she thought was his father was actually his grandfather. Mind you, Bev adds, seeing the shocked look on Gaby the Grin’s middle-class face, Bev was only young at the time. (As if this is something all very young girls get up to).
Is she still in contact with Josh’s father and grandfather? Gaby the Grin asks.
Of course, Bev gabbles. They’re only just around the corner on the Close. Maybe she knows them - Ron and Mike Dixon?
Gaby’s ears perk up, but her face remains imperturbable. She might not know Ron and Mike, but she knows the name Dixon. She might have heard their names, she lies smoothly. But surely Josh’s father must have some sort of responsibility toward the boy? She pries.
He doesn’t beging ot know how to start to be responsible, Bev declaims, stoutly. But the more Josh misbehaves, the less his dad and granddad want to do with him.
Mike and Rachel stare out the front window at the conflab occurring on the pavement between Ron and the Farnhams.
Dr Parr tries to relax by playing his guitar, but he’s disturbed by the sound of loud, raucous music and girlish giggles from the flat next door.
Gaby and Bev have opened another bottle of wine and are having a chinwag over the loud music. Bev nudges Gaby the Grin, commenting that she hadn’t done too badly for herself, considering that husband of hers was a looker.
Gaby’s little mouse-like face closes up suddenly, and she gazes downward in a self-effacing way. Her husband has his bad points too, she sighs, with more than a hint of martyrdom. But she doesn’t want to discuss those. (This is called, ‘presenting yourself as a down-trodden wife, whilst putting the boot into your husband’s character’.)
As Max, Jacqui and Ron survey the two properties from the pavement outside, Max wants to make absolutely sure that Ron knows what he’s doing with the exchange. What about Ray and Jessie? He asks. Where will they go?
It shouldn’t be long before their bungalow’s finished, Ron scoffs.
Besides, Jacqui chips in, they’d make it sweet for Jessie and Ray.
But Ron has another counter-proposition for the loss of his land. If Ron had to cede land to Max, how about Max giving Ron the use of Number 8’s garage. After all, Number 7 had no garage, and Ron would be losing out all the way around here - with land and a garage.
Jacqui moans to Ron that she and Max were trying to accommodate Ron in this move, and all he seems to be doing is putting obstacles in their way. (How is she trying to accommodate him? She’s taking LAND off him? She’s snookering him!)
As the three discuss this, suddenly the door to Number 8 opens and Mike stalks doggedly down the drive. What’s going on? He demands. What are they all out here discussing?
Before Ron and Jacqui can think of a waffling answer, Max intervenes. Well, since Mike has asked, Max begins, he may as well know that Max and Jacqui were swapping houses with Ron. The Farnhams would move into Number 8 and Ron would take over Number 7.
Swapping houses? Snarls Mike. Well, that’s all right for some, but SOMEBODY’S neglected to tell him and Rachel exactly where they were going to stay.
Ron tries to defuse the situation by saying that nothing’s been decided yet, but Mike whinges that he’s always left out of every kind of family discussion. Why, when Ron was in prison, Max Farnham knew more about Ron’s business dealings than Mike, and Mike was Ron’s son.
Max suggests that they discuss the situation inside, rather than in public view of the Close.
Dr Parr sits at his dining room table, alone, trying to eat his tea. The loud music and the laughter from Bev’s flat next door, still bothers him.
Unwilling to listen to Max, Mike turns on his heel and storms back into Number 8. As he enters, he shouts for Rachel to start packing her bags.
Oooh, wha’s mat-teh? Witters Rachel.
‘It’s me Dad and Jacqui,’ Mike rages. ‘They’re only planning to swop houses! And they treat me like I don’t exist! I wouldn’t have found out until moving day had arrived!’ Mike’s had enough. They’re leaving. Now.
Oooh, cries Rachel, boot Beth been sick all day. M-eye-ke cain’t be serious. Suddenly, the baby starts crying upstairs. Rachel starts to dash to the sound, but hesitates. M-eye-ke wants ter caam down, she tries to soothe him. Now, she’s made good dinner, and even coot food soft fer his teeth.
Mike rages that he doesn’t want any dinner.
Ooh, coos Rachel, Doan want ter waste good food. And anyway, where would they go?
‘I don’t know, anywhere,’ rants Mike. ‘Out on the street would be better than staying here, being treated like no-marks and losers.’
The baby cries again, and Rachel, beginning to be upset, when she realises Mike is deadly serious, starts to bound up the stairs, before she’s stopped by Mike. Is she coming with him? He asks.
Rachel hesitates for a moment. No, she’s not, she replies.
The baby cries again, and Rachel runs upstairs to her, as Mike follows and hurriedly packs a bag. With Beth in her arms, Rachel starts to beg Mike not to go. Why, he has no idea where to go or with whom to stay. What would she do without him?
Mike doesn’t know and right now he doesn’t care, he snaps, zipping his bag shut. He storms downstairs and out the front door, leaving it open behind him. As he stalks angrily from the Close, Rachel stands in the doorway, watching after him and holding Beth.
Peter Cox wrote this thirty minutes about nothing.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002