HANDLES AND HYPOCRISY
I was going to begin this summary by talking about spin, which is all around us, to the extent that it’s becoming ridiculous. It’s on Brookside, too - that was evidenced by the silly ‘official response’ to the plethora of complaints the Official Forum received concerning a lot of scenes shown on the programme which would have been better off being shown after the watershed.
But then, something always happens, doesn’t it? And someone crawled from beneath the floorboards onto the Official Forum and started spouting off nonsense disguised as literacy, and I had to laugh. The poster in question calls himself ‘tonyhiggy’.
‘Tonyhiggy’ knows all. ‘Tonyhiggy’ lurks on other sites, chiefly the ‘inferior’ ones of Brooksider and Soapbox and disapproves of all the ‘crap’ (his words, not mine) he reads on those sites. Why? Well, basically because the posters on those forums, ALL long-time Brookside viewers, don’t worship at the altar of the great god Redmond and espouse the view that Brookside is STILL the greatest media invention since sliced bread.
‘Tonyhiggy’s’ chief gripe? Well, ‘Tonyhiggy’ thinks that Brookside would be better served at the Soap Awards if those awards voted by the public reflected proportional representation. Yep. You heard right. PROPORTIONAL REPRESENTATION, that bugbear and bastion of the Liberal Democrats. In ‘Tonyhiggy’s’ opinion, Brookside can’t ever HOPE to win the plaudits won in the past, present and probably future that Eastenders and Coronation Street regularly win, simply because not as many people watch Channel 4 as watch BBC 1 or ITV 1. So ... I suppose, ‘Tonyhiggy’s’ suggestion would be to proportionally equate the number of people who watch Eastenders to the number of viewers who watch BBC 1 as a whole, ditto Coronation Street’s number of viewers in relation to the total number watching ITV 1 and figure a percentage. Then do the same for Brookside and Channel 4 and somehow relate this to the voting in the Soap Awards for different categories. Ergo, Brookside would win more VALID plaudits than the obvious consolation prizes awarded by the soap panel in order that everyone comes away with a gong.
‘Tonyhiggy’, baby, it won’t work. Everything possible has been done to see that Brookside wins awards; and the best suggestion for the programme is to simply try harder. It’s not the show it was, and it’s debatable that it will ever be again. Never mind, the new family arrives this week; and we’ll see if the chef, the one-time occasional Brookie actress, the local pop musician, the boy from The Bill and the girl with the big tits and small teeshirt can save its bacon.
And, ‘Tonyhiggy’, you really must do something about that handle, darling. I keep wanting to call you ‘Tonyhickey’, and that’s bad; because a ‘hickey’, where I come from, is a love bite. Ah well, it’s clear you’ve been well and truly bitten by the Brookside bug, to the extent that you can’t recognise the fatality of your condition. Never mind, if you get lonely, instead of crawling back under the floorboards, there’s always the warren that belongs to the Majic Rabbits. Now HE’D like nothing better than company. The pair of you could discuss the merits of the various wallpapers used in decorating the houses on Brookside Close; and whenever a new screen coupling occurs, I’m sure he’d appreciate your chipping in on the cost of the champers to send as a means of congratulations to the lucky actor and actress.
The programme opens with a shot of baby Beth, asleep in her hospital bed. Rachel the dim sleeps soundly nearby. (Rachel the dim ALWAYS sleeps soundly, because only small children and cretins sleep peaceful, mindless, dreamless sleep). Mike hovers nearby too, his beetle-brow knit in a truculent frown to complement his petty, jealous, down-turned mouth.
Meanwhile, at Chateau Farnham, Jacqui and Maxim are seated at the breakfast table, with the children. Jacqui has a worried look on her face.
Back at the hospital (and thank GOD, we’re spared interminable brief, wordless shots at the beginning of the show!), Beth still lies sleeping. Now Rachel the Dim is awake, and both she and Mike sit by Beth’s bedside, staring intensely at the child. (Well, actually, they’re staring intensely down at nothing, because it’s obvious that one shot was made of the kid as she slept and they keep re-using it). Rachel is frowning and blinking at the same time, because that’s the extent of her dexterity.
Suddenly, she gives a startled jump. Something rare has occurred. Rachel’s had a thought. She blinks and glances up at Mike.
Oooh, she begins, wha’bowt M-eye-ke’s in-teh-view?
Mike dismisses her concern. That’s the least of his worries, he announces, heroically, continuing to frown manfully and set his mouth in a stern line. In fact, he was thinking about phoning and cancelling it. At the moment, he doesn’t want to worry about anything but Beth. Besides, he was too angry about that nasty, sneaking, little Dr Parr. The arrogance of the man! It’s ALL DR PARR’S fault that Beth is lying there in hospital now. If that nasty, sneaking, little Dr Parr with his posh voice, had bothered to come and look at Beth at home for the fifth time, maybe he wouldn’t have mis-diagnosed her.
Oooh, Rachel reminds him, M-eye-ke doan wanner go-ah gettin’ angry wi’Doc-teh. Oooh, ‘ozzy doc-teh say gotter wa-it oontil coolchure develop. ‘Ozzy doc-teh say m-eye-ght not be man-er, min-er, many-g-eye-tis. M-eye-ght be false alarm. M-eye-ke should go-ah ter in-teh-view.
Mike refuses, stubbornly, willing to play the martyr in order to have something about which to whinge at a later date.
Oooh, Rachel insists, M-eye-ke should go. Doc-teh say Beth over worst.
Again, Mike shakes his head like an overgrown, stubborn child. (Easy to see whom Josh takes after in this respect).
Oooh, concedes Rachel, then M-eye-ke should’leas’ call ho-am.
And as her mind shuts down, Rachel turns and begins staring intently down at the imaginary Beth, frowning and blinking, as if to justify to Phil Redmond the reason for continuing with her totally vacuous character.
Mike continues to frown petulantly.
Back at Chateau Farnham, the fragrant Mrs Farnham is clearing away the breakfast dishes. Noticing the amount of food left on the plates, the fragrant Mr Farnham remarks ruefully that this breakfast wasn’t up to standard. (Possibly because Jacqui can’t cook?)
Jacqui’s worried about the kids, she tells Max. She’s watching them like hawks. She’s consulted Gary Parr, who’s told her to be on the lookout for high temperatures and general listlessness. She’s worried that whatever it is Beth’s got might prove infectious to Harry and Emma, as the children have been together constantly.
Look, Max explains, everybody knows how Rachel pfaffs about, panicking about Beth. The kid sneezes and Rachel thinks she’s got pneumonia. If it’s anything serious she’s got, surely Gary Parr would have picked it up.
It’s the beginning of another day at NNT as well, and Sammy’s a worried woman. She’s particularly concerned that Louise hasn’t bothered to call her since leaving for Spain with Tania and her family.
Nisha and Katie both joke that they wouldn’t phone Sammy if THEY were on holiday either; then Katie suggests that the three of them have another night out, in order to take Sammy’s mind off Louise. However, neither Sammy nor Nisha are particularly willing to do this.
Katie reacts impatiently. For goodness sake, what’s the matter with everyone around here? There’s a prime opportunity to go out on the pull, and they turn it down. It’s as though Katie were living with Ray and Jessie!
(Sorry, but this doesn’t sound exactly normal OR natural. If I remember correctly, Katie Rogers isn’t exactly on familiar terms with the Hiltons, so why does she even bring up their names in this context? Surely, it would have been more natural to say ‘Darby and Joan’, for example?
Back at Number 8, Josh and Ron are enjoying a kick-around in the back garden. Ron’s trying to score, with Josh in goal. When Ron scores, he shouts about the great Tommy Evans of Everton scoring. Josh doesn’t have a clue whom Ron’s talking about. The phone rings inside.
Next-door, Jacqui’s thinking she might visit Beth in hospital this morning, but Max reminds her that he has to be at The Shelf. Who’ll mind the kids?
No problem, Jacqui replies. She’ll get Bev to look after them for a couple of hours. Max then suggests that he and Jacqui try to have lunch again that day. Jacqui agrees, imploring Max to book a table for two that ISN’T about to be invaded by either of the Parrs. It’s something about that Gaby Parr, Jacqui grumbles. She’s just too good-looking.
Well, Max remarks, smoothly skirting over that subject, he thought they could use the lunch to discuss some aspects about the impending move. As a matter of fact, Max continues, he thinks he and Jacqui should have some REAL concern about Ray and Jessie in all this.
Somehow, TPTB at Brookside have made Jacqui stupid since her marriage to Max. An au courant businesswoman like Jacqui would be well-clued on property law for business as well as residential properties, but Jacqui just isn’t.
Ray and Jessie? Madam asks, frowning and twiddling with the ends of her hair. Ray and Jessie were her father’s lodgers.
Right, affirms Max, and as such, they MAY wish to remain in Number 8.
Jacqui shakes her head, laughing. Surely, the Hiltons will go with Ron.
Now Max shakes his head. The law is strange over property, he says. Ray and Jessie are sitting tenants. If they don’t want to move, they have the right to remain. Ron is, effectively, selling the house with sitting tenants.
Oh, this is crazy, scoffs Jacqui, in disbelief. She doesn’t want to live with the Hiltons and she’s sure the Hiltons won’t want to live with the Farnhams.
The law is the law, says Max, with a po-face.
Ron and Josh finish their game of football and Ron announces that he’s taking the boy back to his mother. Ron’s going to hospital, he tells his grandson, to see Baby Beth. Josh asks Ron if he’ll still be able to babysit Josh later.
Mike returns from phoning Ron to tell Rachel that Ron is on his way to the hospital. Rachel is looking very worried, and, as a result of this look, she’s blinking furiously.
Oooh, she interrupts Mike. Oooh, doc-teh say hit’s minnie-moon-eh-many-g-eye-tis.
Mike is astounded, but the next sentence out of the cretinous woman’s mouth allays all his fears. Boot, Rachel continues, doc-teh say’s’not bac-teeeryool, so Beth woan need loom-baah poonkchure.
Well, what can they do? Asks Mike, helplessly.
Oooh, joost sit wi’her, says Rachel, blinking at the same shot of the sleeping Beth. Doc-teh say Beth’ll prob’y be hokay ... Boot ‘e ent hoondred per cent, she adds, hastily. Any road, M-eye-ke should go-ah t’in-teh-view. Job’s im-PO-tant fer future. Hit’s first step, she insists.
Mike frowns intensely, insisting that he won’t leave.
Oooh, replies Rachel, fearfully. Ooh, boot M-eye-ke should mebbe pos-po-an in-teh-view. ImPO’tant thing is Beth pool through.
(On a scale of one to ten, for EYE acting alone, this scene would probably win an Oscar; but as far as the lines and the actual acting of the actors, themselves, it has to be one of the worst scenes ever filmed for Brookside. Tiffany Chapman and Paul Byatt are an embarrassment. I never laughed so much in my life, but I’m sure Tonyhickey was much affected).
Ron has returned the future Public Enemy Number One to his mother and stands talking with Bev in the middle of the deserted bar. Of course, they’re discussing Beth.
It’s scandalous that Mike and Rachel couldn’t get the doctor to make a house call, Ron’s saying, especially for something as serious as a childhood virus.
It’s disGOOSting! Pronounces Bev, with finality.
But, Ron points out, the hospital’s been absolutely brilliant. (Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?)
Bev’s worried about Josh, who’s running around the bar, especially since he’s been in contact with Beth.
At that moment, Jacqui breathlessly enters the bar, announcing that she’s off to the hospital to visit Beth, if Ron wants a ride, which he accepts.
Where are the kids? Bev asks.
Jacqui points to the car parked outside, with Harry and Emma in it.
‘Oh, yer don’t want ter leave them in the car,’ Bev advises, ‘not with that perr-verrt what’s been’angin’ round The Parade.
Oh, smiles Jacqui, she didn’t plan on leaving them in the car. In fact, she was wondering if Bev could look after them for a couple of hours.
Here? In the bar? Cries Bev. Er, sorry, but what did Jacqui always say about having kids in the bar?
That was during business hours, quips Jacqui over her shoulder. She’ll just get the kids out of the car.
Down the street at the surgery, Dr Parr comes into the admin area of the clinic, rummaging through some more patients’ notes. Nisha informs him that she’d just had a bit of a row with a particular patient on the telephone. The patient was threatening to leave the practice because of a twenty-pound fee for signing her passport application.
(Sorry, two points: What the hell is Nisha doing dealing with what is essentially a clerical matter? She’s the bloody nurse dispenser, for Christ’s sake, something like this should be being dealt with by the likes of Katie! And secondly, I’d leave the bloody surgery too, if my doctor charged me twenty quid to sign my bloody passport form! That’s a flaming piss-take!)
Good, snaps Dr Parr. That patient was a pain anyway. (Nice to know the good doctor is all compassion). He asks Nisha how things are going in ‘Pull a Pigland’.
Nisha, thinking that the doctor is flirting with her, coyly replies that she was sworn to confidentiality on that score.
The doctor clears his voice, uneasily. Er, he was actually referring to how Katie was getting along.
Nisha shrugs. Difficult to say, she assesses. One minute she’s OK, then the next she’s in the depths of despair. Anyway, they’re off out on another girls’ night out, which was suggested by Katie, she adds.
Ron and Jacqui have arrived at the hospital and are being apprised of Beth’s condition by Mike and Rachel the Dim. Jacqui informs them that, as yet, Harry and Emma have shown no signs of infection.
It’s all that Dr Parr’s fault, Mike whinges, bitterly. He should have been able to tell what was wrong with Beth. He should be reported for incompetence.
Oh, stop goin’ on bowt Doc-teh, Rachel reprimands him. After all, Doctor Parr would still be their doctor when Beth is released.
Well, then, they’d change doctors, vows Mike.
Dr Parr again is in the admin area, and catches the end of a telephone conversation Nisha’s having. Nisha tells the doctor that she’s put another patient off, by telling him that Dr Parr was out to lunch.
The doctor makes a joke of this, but Nisha insists that he take a lunch break. After all, he’s been at the surgery since 7:30 that morning. If he doesn’t go now, she’ll throw him out.
Rachel stands talking to Ron and Jacqui at the hospital. (Ever notice that all Brookside characters ever do is STAND and talk or SIT and talk, without ever doing anything else - well, most do, anyway).
Now that Beth’s out of danger, Rachel is worried about Mike. Oooh, she says to Ron, could Ron tek M-eye-ke owt’n talk ter him? M-eye-ke needs diversion. Ooh, and she wants Ron ter talk M-eye-ke bowt goin’t through with in-teh-view.
Ron promises, and Jacqui remarks that Rachel looks worn out. (What an apt assessment, but then, Jacqui’s never actually sat up with a sick child, has she?)
Max has stopped by the bar to check on the kids with Bev. Harry and Emma are sitting at a table in the elevated section of the bar, being reluctantly entertained by Josh. Bev’s on the phone to Adele, literally begging her to babysit Josh. Adele refuses. Bev is offering double-time-and-half for doing it. Finally, Adele agrees.
Bev, who’s clearly being harassed by the presence of three children, asks Max how long Jacqui was going to be.
Before Max can answer, Josh trudges out of the area where he’s been with Harry and Emma. Does he HAVE to stay and play with the little kids? He whines. Bev grabs a glass and rubs it along the length of Josh’s arm. She doesn’t exactly understand why she’s doing this, she quips to Max, who gives her a bemused look, but they say this is supposed to be some kind of test for meningitis. (Psst! This is supposed to be amusing. It just serves to show how ignorant Bev is). Then she tells Josh to go along and keep Harry and Emma company. As he trudges back, Bev smiles at Max, remarking that Josh is a born childminder.
Max tells Bev he’s not sure how long Jacqui will be.
Bev then starts the prime Dr Parr slag. She knows all about these doctors. Goodness knows, she’s seen enough med students come in the bar and get drunk.
At that moment, Dr Parr passes by the bar, smiling and waving at Max and Bev.
Bev smiles briefly and then frowns after him. She’ll tell Max one thing: If Dr Parr did to Josh what he’d done to Beth, he’d be a dead man.
Max clears his throat and remarks that he’ll reserve judgement on that note.
Ron waits beside his car, outside what looks like a scruffy, little portacabin, as Mike stomps from its premises, the ever-present Neanderthal glower on his face and his hands clenched by his side. He’s just been to his interview, and from the look on his face, all didn’t go according to plan.
Ron, suspecting the obvious, tries to put on a cheerful face and asks Mike how the interview went.
It didn’t, mutters Mike, sullenly. In fact, he told them exactly where they could poke the poxy job.
‘Boot, Michael,’ protests Ron, ‘it’s regular days.’
‘’It’s minimun wage oontil I make sairrr-gent,’ whinges Mike, ‘and even then, it’s only bloody three per cent above minimum.’
Ron sighs and shakes his head, realising what a deadbeat, lazy, scrounging son he’s got. Nevertheless, remembering his promise to Rachel, he suggests that he and Mike stop off somewhere and down a pint.
Mike looks at Ron as if the older man’s suddenly developed green skin. Is Ron crazy? He wants to know. Mike’s worried out of his mind over Beth, and Ron wants to down a pint?
‘Look,’ explains Ron in a fatigued voice, and the viewer realises that Ron really DOES need a drink, ‘I’ve had a terrible mornin’ with Josh. He roons me ragged. It takes a younger man ter keep oop with young Josh, like his dad, maybe.’
Mike whirls around on his heels and verbally berates Ron. So now his dad’s on his case and all, just like that snotty doctor’s wife, sticking her nose in where it’s not wanted. There Mike is with Beth in hospital and RON trying to make him feel guilty about Josh!
(Excuse me, but whilst Gaby Parr might have overstepped the mark with Mike, Ron is WELL within his rights to point out Mike’s blatant neglect of Josh. Josh is as much Mike’s son as Beth is his daughter, yet Mike accords Beth all kinds of favourtism at Josh’s expense. I’ve never seen Mike say more than two words to Josh in the whole programme, and I’ve NEVER seen Josh as much as call him ‘dad’. And Rachel has to take a portion of the blame for this scenario as well. At the beginning of the year, she royally lectured Mike about his neglect of Josh; yet once Mike tries actively to take a parenting role, she throws a wobbly. Face it, and Mike should as well ... He has two children, by two different women, but both kids are equally deserving of his time and his support, moral as well as financial).
Ron then admits that the idea for a drink was Rachel’s suggestion to try to take Mike’s mind off Beth, but Mike pouts, saying all he wants to do is be by Beth’s side. Surely Ron should understand that, based on Ron’s experience with Tony Dixon? (Yes, but Tony Dixon was critically injured; Beth’s been confirmed as being out of danger. Beth’s illness now, is just another convenient excuse for Mike to skive).
Ron assures Mike that Beth is going to be all right.
Nisha, Sammy and Katie, the three wannabe Sex and the City girls, are all sitting at a table in the bar. In what Brookside hopes will be interpreted as a clever and witty scene, all three are chatting away in different conversations on their mobiles. Nisha is talking to her brother (and did we ever know before that Nisha had a brother?), Sammy is trying to get hold of Louise, and Katie MUST be talking to Jacqui, because she simply doesn’t have any other friends with whom she can converse.
As Sammy and Katie end their phone calls, Nisha is still talking to her brother. The Rogers’ sisters talk about their plans for the evening. Katie is still keen to go out on the pull and wants everyone to get dressed up to the nines.
Sammy screws up her face and tells Katie that neither she nor Nisha really wanted to go for a night out. NIsha, finishing her conversation, concurs. Sammy’s particularly anxious to remain at home in the event that Louise might call her.
Well, suggests Katie, selfishly, Sammy could text Louise, or leave her a voice mail. Sammy protests that she doesn’t want to leave voice mail messages, she wants to speak to her daughter.
Oh, that reminds her, interjects Nisha. She meant to tell Sammy earlier, but there was a picture of Tania and her father in the paper today. Sammy is immediately interested. Nisha can’t remember the reason why, but she did notice that Tania was in the picture. She’ll have a look later on and show Sammy, as if Sammy and Kate even bother to read papers.
Sammy and Katie continue to argue the pros and cons of going out, with Sammy suggesting that they get a bottle of wine and stay at home. Katie’s bored by that scenario, it’s been done so many times before. And if the pair of them weren’t bothered about coming along, she’d as soon go on her own, she adds, getting up from the table.
Oh, by the way, Nisha tells them, her brother’s told her he can get them samples of bath products if they want them.
Sammy asks what Nisha’s brother does, and Nisha tells her that he’s a market trader.
Oh, remarks Sammy, tactlessly. She thought all of Nisha’s brothers were clever.
Guvinder is clever, remarks Nisha (and from her brother’s name, we ascertain that Nisha’s family are Sikh). He just works in a market, that’s all.
Sammy tells Nisha that she doesn’t really want to go out tonight, but Katie’s so insistent. Sammy’s worried just what will happen to Katie if she DOES go on the pull on her own. What Katie needs is a minder, Sammy hints. Would Nisha mind going with Katie tonight? Besides, Sammy is knackered.
Nisha frowns severely. Well, she begins, solemly, Katie IS Sammy’s sister, after all; and Nisha thinks Katie should be Sammy’s responsibility ALL the time, and not just when it suits Sammy.
Then Sammy begins to beg Nisha, as a favour.
Finally, Nisha relents. OK, she agrees, but Sammy’s got to come for just one drink.
Sammy agrees, but warns Nisha not to let Katie cotton onto the fact that Nisha was her minder.
Back at the hospital, Ron tells Rachel and Mike that he thinks Beth’s looking better. As Beth makes a noise, Mike moves to her bedside. Ron takes his leave of Rachel and advises her to tell Mike not to worry so much. Rachel is relieved that Beth’s meningitis was caught early enough. And that last remark, in itself, is an unintentional joke, especially since meningitis works rapidly and is not easy to diagnose. Beth’s been sickening for something for at least three weeks now. How stupid do TPTB at Brookside think the viewers are?
Jacqui returns home from the hospital to find Max sheepishly stuffing clothes into the washing machine. As she calls out a greeting, Max hastily asks where he might find some utensil with which to scrub the kids.
Why? Jacqui asks. What’s happened?
Well, Max is forced to admit, they got somewhat covered in paint at Bev’s.
‘Oh, what?’ Exclaims Jacqui. ‘She’s hopeless, that Bev! Yer ask her ter keep an eye on the kids!’
Max hastens to make excuses for Bev, confessing to Jacqui that Bev DID do her best.
Meanwhile, Ron’s stopped by the bar to see Bev. Bev asks after Beth, and Ron tells her that the baby is out of danger, but poor Rachel and Mike, he commiserates. The pair of them looked really tired - in fact, they looked almost as old as Ron. He admits to Bev that looking after Josh really knackers him.
Bev chooses to ignore this hint, instead she reminds Ron that she turns 30 the following week. In fact, Bev admits, the best present she could have would be to know that Beth was going to be all right. Then she starts a mega moan to Ron about Jacqui. The gall of her, dropping her kids by at the drop of a hat, yet refusing to give an inch regarding Josh’s childcare (which is NOT NOT NOT Jacqui’s problem).
Ron tries to defend Jacqui by telling Bev that Jacqui was worried about Harry and Emma, but at that moment, Josh lobs a football at Ron.
Back at the hospital, Mr and Mrs Underclass Whinge sit by the side of Beth, who’s sleeping again in the same position from the same shot at the beginning of the show. They hang their mingeing gobs over the side of the crib. Mike’s moaning about his interview. He confesses to Rachel that he told the people to stuff their job. He told Rachel he should have cancelled the interview; his mind was all over the place with worry about Beth. Besides, he continues, the pay was lousy. No, he needs to find a job that will allow him to work days and pay double the wage he gets now. (Trouble is, Mike, you’ll have to WORK at that job and work regularly).
Oooh, whispers Rachel, looking at him admiringly and knowing that as long as someone else puts a roof over their heads and food on their table, they’ll be OK. Never m-eye-nd. M-eye-ke’ll get job soon.
And when he does, Mike vows, he’ll sort out a proper home for Beth and Rachel. In fact, he’s going to turn over that new leaf right away ... by ringing in sick that night. (Well, you have to laugh, don’t you?)
Sammy, Nisha and Katie are back for round two at the bar, sitting at the same table, which surely must have the impressions of their respective arses on the seats. Sammy wails that she’s just left another message on Louise’s voice mail, as three stocky, low-browed, shaven-headed Stephen Gerrard clones saunter into the bar.
‘Erm,’ speaks Katie, looking around, ‘I see three pigs now.’ (An apt description of the trio). However, they are followed into the bar by Dr Parr, and Nisha reaches out and physically restrains Katie from approaching the men, who are seated at another table. ‘Not in front of our boss,’ she hisses.
This is supposed to be a girls’ night out, Sammy reminds Nisha. What did Nisha propose to do?
Nisha rises and says that she’s going to be polite and ask him to join them for a quiet drink.
As the doctor enters the Bar, the camera pans on Bev’s face, giving him a cold, hard stare of accusation.
Katie’s gaze, however, follows Nisha to the bar, as she murmurs to Sammy that Nisha was going to chat the doctor up.
As the doctor approaches the bar, Bev moves from one end to greet him. ‘We-e-e-ell,’ she drawls, ‘I’m surprised you’ve got the nerrrrve ter show yer face in here!’
Dr Parr looks genuinely puzzled, as Nisha now rushes to his side. What’s Bev talking about? He wants to know.
‘Oh!’ Exclaims Bev, in mock surprise. ‘Yer mean yer didn’t know? Well, fer YOUR information, little Beth Dixon’s got taken inter’ozzy with meningitis ... And all because YOU wouldn’t go’n see her!’
Dr Parr’s look of bewilderment turns to one of self-recrimination. Now Katie’s joined Nisha and Dr Parr looks at both of them, for some reason reckoning that they should know about this. Is this true? He asks.
Katie nods, confirming that Beth was taken to hospital, where meningitis was diagnosed.
‘Ron said Dr Parr couldn’t be bothered ter see her the other day,’ remarks Bev, cruelly, in a loud voice.
‘But this isn’t the place to discuss this,’ urges Nisha, trying to diffuse the situation.
‘And the main thing,’ offers Katie, ‘is that Beth is on the mend.’
Bev, however, won’t be deterred. ‘The MAIN thing, accordin’ ter Mike and Rachel,’ she sneers, ‘is that the doc here wouldn’t see her.’
Dr Parr turns quickly and feels his way out of the bar, like a blind man.
‘Talk about stable doors and missing horses,’ taunts Bev, shouting after him, and then turning to the rest of the bar, she continues: ‘I’VE got a son and I know how they feel!’
As Katie turns to talk to one of the three stocky men ordering at the bar, Nisha frantically asks Dr Parr where he’s going.
‘To see Beth,’ he gasps, breathlessly.
Nisha follows him out onto The Parade. Catching up with him, she grabs his arm and apologises for the scene inside the bar.
There’s nothing more to say, the doctor says bleakly. He misdiagnosed the child completely and for that, he feels bad.
Nisha tells him to stop punishing himself. Meningitis isn’t the easiest disease to diagnose, and Beth presented none of the symptoms. And as for Beth, well, everytime the child coughed or had a temperature, Rachel was ringing the clinic in a blind panic. For what it’s worth, Nisha tells him, she thinks he’s a damned good doctor, and he couldn’t have done anymore for the child.
Dr Parr murmurs that there are still people who think he could have done more for the elderly Mrs Tucker too, and he staggers away, as Nisha returns to the bar.
Just as she enters, Sammy waves for her attention and points urgently to Katie, who’s standing at the bar, snogging the stocky, shaven-headed man.
Mike has just rang his workplace and now rejoins Rachel at the vigil at Beth’s bedside. Hmph! He snorts, derisively, they only wanted him to do a double shift to make up for time lost! So he told them to stuff THAT job as well. After all, he tells a blinking Rachel, he’d rather be here with her and Beth. (Sure, and let Ron and Jacqui worry about subsidising you).
Somehow, Nisha’s got hold of a newspaper in the bar and sits at the table reading it. Sammy, meanwhile, manages to grab hold of Katie when she returns briefly from her porcine encounter, and sits her down opposit her. What the hell was Katie doing with her life? Sammy demands. ‘Look at yer! Makin’ a spectacle o’yerself with all sorts!’
Katie pulls away from her, snarling: ‘Whadderyaonabout?’
‘I’m on about YOU!’ Exclaims Sammy. ‘Have some self-esteem, why doncha?’
Suddenly, Nisha prods Sammy’s shoulder. Here it is! The picture of Tania and her dad she was telling Sammy about. OMIGOD! Read this! She thrusts the paper at Sammy, with a look of concern on her face.
Sammy grabs the paper to see a picture of a thuggy-looking man in the foreground, next to a swimming pool. There in the background, at a table by the pool, sits Tania. The caption on the picture identifies the man as ????? Moran, and says that police are looking for him in connection with a shooting in Spain.
With a look of terror on her face, Sammy whips out her mobile. Oh, what has she done? She’s let Louise go off to Spain with a boonch of gangsters! Desperately she dials Louise’s mobile number and leaves a message for the girl to ring her urgently.
Left alone by Beth’s crib, we’re treated to a badly-acted and maudlin soliloquy by Mike, full of sentiment and self-pity. He tells the sleeping child (same shot, same angle, same position) that along with Rachel, Beth is the most precious thing in his life. He promises to find a proper job and make a proper home for all three of them, as a family. Oh, and he vows to make that stupid doctor pay for what he’d done to Beth.
He tells her that he loves her and Rachel more than anything; and should anything happen to Beth, that nasty, sneaking, little Dr Parr would be a dead man.
Oh, dear ... And the next week we have poor Plank Murray added to the Dixon Hit List. Well, that’s one way of paring down the cast, I suppose.
Andy Lynch wrote this. Most people could have and would have done better.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002