LIFE IS AN ILLUSION
Or so people who use the Official Forum would have us think. I returned from holiday to view the smart, new, all-singing, all-dancing Official Forum, only to find a lot of new names posting on there.
On first glance, many seem to be the target audience at whom Brookside appears to be aiming itself - namely adolescents, between the ages of 12 and 18, of the lower end of the intellect scale, barely literate, who watch the show for ‘face value’ and fail to understand any of the concepts it’s striving to get across, and who hail from Liverpool or somewhere in the Northwest. They want to talk about the most trivial things - for example, someone today (and I’m writing this on the 8th of September) started a thread querying the fact that almost ALL of the actresses appearing on Brookside use side partings.
I ask you.
Other than that, they speak in either Ali G’ese or textese and venture astoundingly intellectual offerings such as ‘Steve is well fit’ and ‘Stuart is gr8’.
Then there are the semi-literate brigade, who fancy themselves eminent intellectuals. There’s one boy of fifteen who prides himself on excellent grammar and composition points, then misses major dramatic points altogether.
And then there are some who, if they were granted another brain cell, would clearly be dangerous. Before I left on holiday, there was a poster, purporting to be a girl of fourteen who waxed lyrical in textese about the ‘hotness’ of Brookside actors. She then ended her posting imploring anyone who knew of any ‘hot’ blokes to e-mail her and she gave her e-mail address. Similarly, there have been numerous other ‘young girls’ who wail about the physical attributes of the likes of Philip Olivier, Ben Hull and Raymond Quinn(!?), who have also left e-mail addresses, begging anyone, the actors included, to e-mail them.
THIS is VERY dangerous, and I’m surprised Brookside allow this practice to flourish.
On the official forums of Eastenders and Coronation Street, the ground rules are strictly laid out - no website addresses and positively NO e-mail addresses are published.
Now, returning from holiday, Annabelle alerted me to a couple of new posters, who appear, on first glance, to be silly girls - the sort who want to laugh and poke fun at Jimmy’s mental health line as a comedic piece. But read closer and they give themselves away. One remarks that there hasn’t been a good family on Brookside since the Grants - 20 years ago, right? These ‘kids’ are supposed to be 14. I think not.
And then there’s the ubiquitous i_luv_stewart, who purports in one post to be fourteen, and in another, to be eighteen. Do I detect a whiff of that ubiquitous i_luv_gerrard, who’s been successively banned from the forum, Alan’s Soapbox and Brooksider TWICE?
It seems to me that TPTB who monitor the Brookside Forum want to pull their fingers out.
At the dawn of another day, Sammy Rogers-Daniels-Whatever does the unthinkable - she pulls out a Hoover and furiously starts to clean the flat.
Over on the Close, Mike Dixon puts a load of wash into a dryer, another into a washing machine, turns both on, picks up a plate of toast and heads for the nearest sofa.
Dr Parr is leaving his flat for a day at the surgery, when the door burst wide and his wife, Gaby the Grin, sporting a newer, blonder hairstyle launches herself like an Exocet missile into his arms, backing him away from the door, her face sucking his.
As Sammy Hoovers noisily, poor, pitiful Katie emerges from her lair, clad in an overlarge pair of what appears to be mens’ pyjamas. Shouting over the noise of the machine, Katie reminds Sammy that it’s her day off and she fancied a lie-in. Sammy shouts back that she has to get the flat clean and tidy for Louise’s mate’s dad. She doesn’t want the place to look like the pigsty it usually is, not when Mr Moran and the girls TERRRRRN oop.
He’s not royalty, says Katie, scathingly. In fact, he’s nowt more than a scumbag, who robbed his way to the top.
Yes, well, remarks Sammy, now furiously dusting, hoondreds of years ago, that’s exactly how people became royalty. (Interesting take on history, that? I wonder who she means? Can’t think of anyone in particular.) And anyway, she continues, she doesn’t care WHO he is, she’s not having him say that Louise is a bad influence on Tania and that Sammy is a bad mother.
Finishing his toast, Mike stretches out on the sofa with his paper, and soon snoozes off.
Dr Parr and Gaby the Grin have finished having a bonk on the sofa, and now rearrange their clothing.
‘Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,’ quips Dr Parr. ‘That was a nice surprise.’ He asks how Gaby the Grin is faring.
All the better for seeing Dr Parr, remarks Gaby, brightly cheerful and grinning from ear to ear. The doctor remarks that he likes her hair.
New hair, new start, Gaby the Grin vows, but she allows her phoney grin to drop for a split second.
Is she certain about that? Asks Dr Parr, immediately concerned. Is she still taking those sleeping tablets he prescribed for her?
Not for the past few nights, Gaby the Grin lies.
Glancing at his watch, Dr Parr remarks that he’s going to be so late.
He moves to rise from the couch, but Gaby the Grin grabs his arm. He hasn’t asked her the question yet, she reminds him cryptically. The one about the man who’s name she dare not speak.
Dr Parr gazes at her evenly. Is she certain she’s over the Rob Dexter affair?
Gaby the Grin nods decisively. And that name will be forever banned from this household, she vows.
Dr Parr asks if she’s going into work, but Gaby the Grin replies that ‘work’ has given her a week off. (Gee, I should work in Liverpool. People get so much time off there. No wonder they have the reputation for being lazy, Scouse gits). Gaby explains to Dr Parr (and to the audience) that Rob Dexter was actually the man who recruited Gaby for the job and ‘work’ feels a mite guilty that things turned out that way for her.
Dr Parr gently reminds her that she still has the inquest to get through, but Gaby nonchalantly shrugs that off, vowing to face that when it comes around and not before.
Realising that Gaby’s not about to give an inch and tell him her true feelings, Dr Parr kisses her good-bye and leaves the flat, whereupon Gaby the Grin’s feral, little pointed face sinks to the floor.
Dire Muddie is waiting in a hospital corridor for her mother, who emerges from a stairwell door. Brigid apologises to Dire for taking so long, but she had to nip upstairs and tell Ron that she was leaving. Dire, holding a jacket, scolds Brigid that a taxi’s waiting for them downstairs - however, she must not be TOO wuddied about the meter running, because they pause (being Brookside, characters can’t walk and have a conversation at the same time) and have a discussion in the corridor.
Dire tells Brigid that as soon as Brigid’s home, Dire’s going to ensure her mother has a sleep. Brigid replies sceptically that Dire looks as though she’s the one in need of rest. She looks awful.
It’s this business with Marty and the police, Dire admits, desperately. Marty didn’t come home the night before until gone one o’clock, and then he left this morning without touching his breakfast. He’s avoiding her, and she doesn’t know why. (Well, Dire, there’s a problem with your breath ...)
He’s hiding soomthink, she continues, and her head’s in overdrive, thinking that it’s soomthink ter do with Imelda Clough.
Well, whom was Marty with last night? Asks Brigid.
He was out drinking with Christy, Dire reckons.
Well, then, urges Brigid. Dire should ask Christy. He and Marty are as thick as thieves when they’re together. What about Plank?
Plank’s avoiding her and all, wails Dire.
Well, if she were Dire, suggests Brigid, she’d try to squeeze the truth out of that weasel Christy. And did she ever stop to think that it might NOT be this police business that’s worrying Marty? Why, look at what the poor man’s had on his plate the past year - there was that business with Adele and then Antony, he got a promotion at school and then all this infertility malarkey. It might all have suddenly got on top of him.
Dire takes on board what Brigid’s saying, but she isn’t at all convinced.
Rabbity Ruth has just packed Luke the bunny off for an overnight stay with the hapless Sean, and now she’s regretting it in the company of the slimey Dan the Man. She’s wuddied now, sitting on the mangey sofa and cradling one of Luke the bunny’s snot-covered toys. Dan the Man oozes up beside her in a trail of slime, assuring her that Luke would be OK with Sean.
Well, Rabbity Ruth snorks, wiping her snotty nose on yet another white-topped sleeve, Luke seemed to be better with Sean than he was yesterday. Perhaps he’d forgotten he was shouted at. She’s just feeling down because she saw Luke with his little bag packed and his videos, off to vegetate in front of his father’s television set instead of the Gordons’.
It’s only until tomorrow night, Dan replies. And besides, it will give the two of them the chance to do something on their own the next day (without the bothersome brat about, he thinks to himself).
Oooh, what about doing soomthink terday? Sidles Rabbity Ruth, brushing away a glimmer of snot on her upper lip.
Dan puts her off. He’s on nights tonight and couldn’t re-arrange his shift. Besides, what’s wrong with having a bonk right now? He suggests. They seem to have the house to themselves.
Rabbity Ruth is horrified at the suggestion. Why, the Brookside Bike was asleep in his bed upstairs, and the unseen Ali might be back at any moment.
The Brookside Bike won’t surface before one o’clock, urges Dan.
Ruth admits that she finds it hard to settle in her parents’ house; even when Dan sleeps over, she says, they get no privacy. She’s not used to living dangerously - although that’s what she did when she slept with Dan in Sean’s house. She’s used to being on her own and not living with Ma and Pa. For the thousandth time, she whines that she and Dan the Man need their own hutch.
Then Dan says something stupid. He’ll have to have a better job first, before they can afford a place of their own. (Sorry, but isn’t this man a qualified, university-educated civil engineer? Didn’t he make a mint working abroad? Where is all his money, as he has no outgoings? And Liverpool is one of the cheapest places to live in Britain. Is he saying that he can’t afford to buy even a two-bedroomed maisonette for himself and this woman and child? This is too much).
Oooh, coos Rabbity Ruth purring up through the slime to sidle against Dan, he doesn’t need to go off ter South Ameriker or Africa for that. What’s wrong with the Northwest? (What IS wrong with it? And why do the Scousers pile into the Southeast, expecting to find the streets paved with gold?)
Dan the Man tells Ruth petulantly that she’s ALWAYS known he wanted to work abroad, even when they were in school.
Oooh, muses Rabbity Ruth. That’s a mighty big step to take. (After all, it would mean leaving Liverpool, the centre of the universe).
Back at Sitcom House, Dire throws the phone down in disgoost. She can’t get hold of that Christy.
Try again, urges Brigid, calmly, pottering about the kitchen. And don’t let Christy give her the slip. Now, she continues, removing her apron, she’ll have to love Dire and leave her.
‘BOOT, YER JOOST OUTA’OZZY!’ Protests Dire.
Brigid is already putting her coat on. She promised Ron Dixon that she’d look in on that useless son of his to see how Mike’s handling the laundry business. Dire starts to protest again, but Brigid insists that Ron’s depending on her. After all, Ron’s going to be laid up a long time. And besides, she winks, she nees a job, and this is the first step.
Dire admiringly remarks that Brigid’s a sly one. Brigid replies that Dire needs to try ringing Christy again.
Mike Dixon is enjoying a doze on the couch when the doorbell rings. He jumps to his feet and answers it, to admit Brigid, who bustles past him. Ron asked her to pop in, she explains, breezily to an astonished Mike. She promised his dad she’d make him a beef stew. Does Mike have any beef in the freezer.
Er, top shelf, replies Mike, bewildered, as Brigid opens the chest freezer. Ron gets it off a butcher mate of his.
She doesn’t want anything too fatty, Brigid says, rummaging through the frozen meat, or else the doctors will only knock it back. Brigid glances critically over her shoulder at the humming washers and dryers and at Mike standing perplexed in the middle of the kitchen.
Hmmm, she remarks, he doesn’t look very organised.
Mike wants to know what she means.
‘Well,’ begins Brigid, ‘two washers, two dryers, and all finishing at the same time.’
Mike protests that he was just about to take the laundry out of one and put it in another dryer when Brigid called.
‘But different washes take different times and have different cycles,’ replies Brigid in exasperation. ‘You’re not watching them.’
Mike tells another lie and says that he was on the phone to suppliers et al, when Brigid called around; but it’s obvious that Brigid doesn’t believe him. Where are Ray and Jessie? She wants to know.
Out, replies Mike, shortly.
‘I’m not surprised,’ Brigid quips. And she offers to give Mike a hand with the laundry.
That’s OK, Mike assures her. He’s got it all under control.
But Brigid protests that she’d enjoy helping Mike, and she proceeds to fold some of the dried laundry. Oh, and doesn’t Mike want to know how his father is doing? She just got out today, she adds.
Oh, er, how is he? Mike dutifully asks.
Brigid points out that Ron’s said he’s not seen Mike for three days.
Mike protests that he’s been busy, but again, Brigid’s sceptical.
‘Still, never mind,’ she coos. ‘I’m here now. After all, many hands make light work.’
Mike glares furiously at the camera.
Back at NNT, Katie sits at the breakfast bar in the foreground - what else? - putting on her lippy, whilst Sammy’s having a panic attack with her mobile in the background. OMIGOD!!! Louise has just sent her a text message, saying that they’re on the M62 already!
Katie shrugs her shoulders unsympathetically and continues to concentrate on her lips in the compact mirror. She joost hopes they don’t get terrrned back at the Merseyside border, she quips.
OMIGOD! Decompensates Sammy. They’ll be here any moment! Then she suddenly stops and gazes at her sister through narrowed eyes. Eeeeem, joost what is Katie doing so dolled oop and on her day off and all? Whenever Katie’s off from werrrrk, she usually spends the day looking like a bag woman.
Katie replies shortly that she’s meeting Nick the Builder.
When? Snaps Sammy, nervously.
Katie shrugs. Soon, she says. Sammy frowns ominously, which prompts Katie to explain that this is HER flat and she simply likes to know who comes here, that’s all. There’s Tania’s dad’s car riddled with bullets, she continues, and HE has the NAIRRRVE ter call Sammy a bad mother. (Well, quite simply, she is). Sammy needs to sort this man out.
Leave it to her, Sammy assures Katie. He won’t get away with saying things like that. (So we know she’s going to snog him, right?)
Much to Mike’s chagrin, Brigid is still at the Dixons’, ‘helping’ Mike with the laundry and giving him moralistic lectures. Does Mike REALLY realise how weak his father is going to be when he gets out of hospital the next week?
Mike’s not soft, he protests. Besides, he’s got it ‘sorted’.
Ron will never be able to cope with this business, Brigid hectors, plus he’ll need waiting on hand and foot. For the first two weeks, he shouldn’t be left alone at all. Also, he’ll need someone to help him with gentle exercise.
Mike is trying desperately to keep a lid on his temper. Quite clearly, he hasn’t realised or organised anything in relation to Ron’s condition. He and Rachel, together, have got it sorted, he attempts to convince Brigid.
Brigid raises her eyebrows sceptically. Good, she says. Now she’ll just get this beef defrosted, she continues, walking toward the cooker, and in the oven to stew. Then she can help Mike some more.
She CAN’T! Mike protests, vehemently. Thinking on his feet, he offers the electricity as an excuse. With the washers and dryers running, the oven would overload the electricity and blow the lot. Gently, he begins to lead Brigid toward the front door. Why doesn’t Brigid do the stew at hers? He suggests. Mike’s fine now.
Mike thanks her for giving him a hand.
‘I’ll be sure to tell Ron how well you’re coping,’ Brigid remarks, dryly.
The door phone sounds at NNT and Sammy grabs it, telling Louise & Co to come up. She turns to find Katie, dressed tothe nines, standing behind her. The sight of Katie seems to annoy her. Why doesn’t Katie try to look a bit more casual? She asks, irritably. Katie looks as though she’s got a poker rammed up her backside, Sammy says.
The door opens and Louise MK III enters. This is the third actress to play Louise in less than a year, and she’s anything BUT ten years old. In case viewers have forgotten, Louise was born in 1992; but this actress is a well-rounded thirteen, if you get my drift. She greets her mother. She’s followed by a forty-something amalgamation of Sinbad and Callum Finnegan, with a dash of Bob Hoskins and a sprinkle of a Guy Ritchie movie. It’s Ted Robbins, brother of Kate, cousin of Sir Paul McCartney and all-round professional Scouser. He’s dressed in the stereotypical garb of a ganster, speaks in a monotone, threatening voice and has eyes borrowed from the pig Tim let loose in the wooded area. In fact, instead of ‘Mr Big’, he should be called ‘Mr Pig’.
Sammy asks Louise where her manners are, noticing that she’s forgotten to introduce Tania’s father. (And this begs a question: I thought at the time the Farnhams and Dixons switched houses, that Jacqui was called to work at the Health Club because Sammy, her ‘manager’ was called off to Spain regarding a personal matter concerning her daughter. This was when Sammy first discovered Tania’s father was wanted for questioning in a shooting. Presumably she met Tania’s parents during that time - or have Brookside forgotten?)
Louise introduces Tania’s father as ‘Ted’.
‘"Mr Moran" ter you,’ Sammy reminds Louise, primly.
‘Ted’s’ good enoof fer him, Ted Moran assures her. He notices Katie standing close by. And who’s this? He asks.
Sammy introduces Katie as her younger sister, Kate.
‘Pleased ter meet yer, Kate,’ Mr Pig growls in a monotone.
‘"Katie’s" good enoof fer me,’ Katie quips, coldly.
Mr Pig begins the smarm offensive by complimenting Sammy, saying he can see where Louise gets her looks from. Sammy preens like a cat who’s fur is being stroked. She asks the whereabouts of Tania.
Ted Moran pushes past the women and struts into the flat, following his enormous gut. Tania? Oh, she had a right royal kick-off in the car, he explains. Soomthink about money fer phone cards.
Sammy immediately thinks Louise has been being cheeky, but Mr Pig corrects her. It’s not Louise, he says, firmly. It’s Tania. Joost because his daughter’s used ter money, doesn’t mean she can’t ask nicely. It’s the principle of the thing, he adds, piously. Then he takes off his jacket, as though the place were his to own. So Tania’s having a sulk in the car downstairs, he informs them, making himself at home.
Noticing his overtly exaggerated Scouse accent, Katie remarks that Ted Moran is from Liverpool. (Well, isn’t EVERYONE?)
Ted Moran explains that he moved to Essex (of course, where ALL the Southeast criminal element live ... NOT) when he was in his teens. (If this is true, why doesn’t Ted Moran speak like a Londoner?) His mother still lives in Liverpool, he explains, and they’ll be calling into see her while they’re there. As he speaks, he notices a gold bracelet belonging to one of the women, lying in a tray on a table. He picks it up and examines it closely. Katie doesn’t miss a movement.
Sammy offers him coffee, but Mr Pig declines the offer. He thought, he says, to take them all out to a nice loonch. That cafe-bar downstairs looked all right. Sammy highly recommends it. It’s part of the group for whom she werrks, she explains, smoothly. Ted Moran immediately looks interested. (Oh, not another ‘gangsters taking over the Close’ storyline!)
He includes Katie in his invitation, but she refuses. ‘I’ve got a business meeting,’ Katie purrs, deliberately. ‘And if I’m late, I’ll be shot.’
Ted Moran, getting her gist, deliberately replaces the gold bracelet on the tray and utters what’s to become his by-word. ‘Pit’hee.’ Another time, perhaps. In the meantime, he decides to sort out the girls’ phone cards, and he hands Louise forty quid. That should keep them quiet, he quips.
Louise smiles and grabs the money greedily. Louise needs a good slapping. As she snatches the money, Mr Pig’s mobile phone rings. He excuses himself and steps into the foyer to take the call. Sammy, however, grabs the money from Louise and whispers furtively to Katie that forty pounds was too much to give her daughter and Sammy intends to give it back. She marches into the foyer to do so, only to overhear Mr Pig’s conversation.
Mr Pig is telling someone to make someone else an offer the third person couldn’t refuse. (Oh, a little bit of Mario Puzo here. How long before Moran is referring to his enemy as a pezzonovante?) If this person doesn’t do what Mr Pig wants, Mr Pig’s henchman is to break the other man’s legs. He ends the conversation by saying that he wants the enemy in intensive care, no less.
Ending the call and turning around, he spies Sammy. He apologise for the language, saying it’s just ‘jargon’. He’s trying to close a deal, he explains. (I’m also surprised he doesn’t refer to the enemy as ‘muppets’. That’ll be the next thing too. He’s more Sinbad Finnegan than Gandolfini-Winstone.
Sammy looks wuddied.
Jacqui Farnham is on her way into the Health Club complex when she runs into Gaby the Grin, who’s on her way out of the apartment section. Jacqui compliments Gaby the Grin on her new hair and asks when Gaby the Grin returned. Gaby effusively tells her that she’s only back that morning and has been shopping to get things Dr Parr forgot to get whilst she was away.
Jacqui invites her for coffee in the bar, but Gaby counter-invites Jacqui upstairs for coffee.
Mr Pig sits with Sammy and the two spoiled girls at a table in the bar. Sammy asks Ted what he does for a living. Ted smoothly tells her that he deals in property, mostly. (A shark, in other words). Holiday villas in the Costas and Mallorca - oh, and he’s joost getting a foot in in Tenerife.
Katie and Nick the Builder pass by, and Ted calls out a greeting, which Katie pointedly ignores. He asks them to join them, but Katie leads Nick to another table. Nick is intrigued. He wanted to sit with a real gangster, but Katie hisses at him not to stare.
He’s got no heavies with him, Nick jokes, taking aim with his finger. Why, if he had a gun right now, he could-
Katie hisses again at him not to stare.
Back at the table, Louise Mk III speaks in an annoying and cloying posh, little voice and twirls her hair. She thought, she announces, that they were SUPPOSED to go shopping. She needs to think about holiday clothes. (And Sammy needs to think seriously about slapping her across the face. If ever there were an excuse for hitting a child, it’s sitting at this table).
Sammy interjects to say that she hasn’t decided if Louise is going yet.
Louise’s brows knit together in a petulant frown and she bangs the arms of her chair with her fists.
Ted immediately ticks her off. ‘Hey!’ He speaks sharply, ‘Yer moother needs ter think about it.’ He looks threateningly at his own daughter. ‘And I’m beginnin’ ter woonder if either of yer des-errrrve a holiday after last week’s shenanigans.’
Sammy thanks him gratefully for intervening.
Now Red Tania (in more ways than one, because she’s ginger) speaks, in a curious Mancunian accent for one who goes to a posh school. SHE thought they were going shopping as well.
Don’t take it as read, Ted warns.
But if Sammy doesn’t let Louise go shopping, Louise whines an incongruous line, she won’t know what to buy.
Tania intervenes with authority. Well, Louise will need a bikini and at least THREE dresses for the fiestas. Louise’s greedy, little face smiles avariciously. (Will SOMEBODY PLEASE slap this child? I nominate Bev.)
Ted Moran suggests that Sammy come along on the shopping spree as well, but Sammy cries off, saying she has to work.
‘Pit’hee,’ utters Ted.
But she’d best get off to the cash point, Sammy then says, if Louise is going shopping. But Ted Moran stops her, insisting that he pay for Louise’s gear. Anythink she likes, he says, it’s a gift from his wife, Sheena, and himself.
Red Tania asks if there’s a Harvey Nicks in Liverpool, and Ted produces a massive wad of cash and peels off about five notes to give to the girls, suggesting that they nip across the road to the garage and stock up on chocolate.
The greedy, little bitches scurry off like rats.
Once alone, Mr Pig turns his porcine gaze uneasily on Sammy. Now, he announces, he and she need to talk about this drinking business. He politely wants Sammy to know that Tania never once did anything like this before becoming associated with Louise.
Sammy interjects forcefully, to say that she resents his inferring that Louise is a bad influence on Tania -
Heat of the moment thing, protests Mr Pig, throwing up his hands. (Pointless - then why did he say it?)
And, continues Sammy, she also resents his attempts to call Richard and apprise him of the situation. Richard is her ex-husband, and he isn’t Louise’s dad. (Ah, but - correct me if I’m wrong - isn’t Richard supporting Louise financially, as in paying for her school fees? If so, he has every right to know what she gets up to. And also, hadn’t Louise effectively chosen, of her own free will, to stay most of the time with Richard and NOT with Sammy? Seems to me that Richard is clearly in loco parentis.)
So Louise and Red Tania were caught drinking beer with a couple of lads, reasons Sammy, as if this were no big deal (and why should it be to an alky like Sammy?). It takes two to tango, she says.
Again, Mr Pig gently protests that he was guilty of over-reacting. You see, he explains, his father was a chronic alcoholic and died from a drink-related illness. He never touches the stuff, himself. When he caught his daughter drinking, he went ballistic.
Well, if Louise IS such a bad influence on Red Tania, sasses Sammy, then why was Mr Pig so willing to allow her to go on holiday with his daughter?
Mr Pig admits that he’s pleased Louise and Red Tania are mates. Red Tania was really unhappy at school previously, he says. After all, Mr Pig and his wife were away a lot - tax deals etc. (Euphemism for the fact that he was forced to lie low out of the country et al). When Red Tania became friends with Louise, his daughter did her homework more and settled down. She was finally content, and he liked that.
Actually, he confesses, it was Sheena, his wife, who suggested he come up to Liverpool to meet Sammy, just to see how the two of them would get on. (Er, why didn’t Mrs Pig come along too?)
So he takes all his accusations back? Enquires Sammy.
Now that he’s ‘eyeballed’ her, Mr Pig says, he’s prepared to write the whole episode off as a stupid, growing-up thing; and the offer for Louise to go on holiday with the Moran-Pigs, still stands.
Gaby the Grin and Jacqui, meanwhile, are ensconced in the Parrs’ flat, having a serious conflab. Gaby the Grin tells Jacqui that Dr Parr actually prescribed Gaby sleeping pills before she left. She reckons she sounds like a typical distraught, suburban housewife, being fobbed off by her doctor with Valium.
Jacqui asks if Gaby’s still taking them.
She’s trying not to, says Gaby the Grin. (CALL FOR THE SAGE AND DROOKS COUNSELLING! CALL FOR DR NIKKI! POTENTIAL PSYCHOLOGY CASE HERE!) But it’s proving hard.
Jacqui tells Gaby that it’s going to take time for her to get over something as serious as Rob Dexter’s suicide.
SHE knows, wails Gaby the Grin, and JACQUI knows that, but she doesn’t think Dr Parr realises that. In fact, she accuses her husband of assuming that Gaby the Grin should just bounce back to normal. (Au contraire, I think this is just a case of this self-centred woman not seeing the forest for the trees and wanting 150% of her husband’s undivided attention before she goes on the grope with another woman’s husband).
Rob Dexter killed himself because of her, she moans, and now this is coming between her and Dr Parr.
She shouldn’t let it, warns Jacqui.
But every time she closes her eyes, Gaby the Grin admits, she sees Rob Dexter. The problem with Dr Parr is that he can’t seem to put himself in her position and see how this affects her.
As Katie leaves the loo in Bar Brookie, she encounters Sammy going upstairs to the facility. Katie archly remarks that she’s noticed Sammy getting all cozy with Mr Pig. Has she managed to suss him out yet?
Sammy replies that Mr Pig has property dealing, mainly in Spain.
AND she clocked the wad of cash, Katie adds. What’s the meaning of that?
Sammy glances about frantically, as if he might be eavesdropping, and hisses that she couldn’t very well ask him where the money came from.
Well, what about the contract killing then? Katie badgers.
That’s ... HARD, Sammy says, reluctantly.
And the bad influence stuff? Katie continues pressing.
Sorted, promises Sammy.
‘That’s amazing,’ sniffs Katie, sarcastically. But if Sammy doesn’t clarify this shooting stuff, and soon, she’s letting the bugger get away with it!
Wnen Sammy returns from the loo, she finds Mr Pig settling the bill with the waiter and tipping him in Euros, whilst the two piggy girls stand in the background, gobbling chocolates. When he sees her, Mr Pig begins a witter about the Euros and change.
Sammy stops his patter by abruptly thanking him for lunch. Mr Pig responds by inviting her to share the girls’ holiday in Spain. It would cost her noothink. ‘His people’ would sort out the air fare, and she could sleep in the garden house with the girls.
‘And get shot at in the meantime?’ Snaps Sammy.
That was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Mr Pig explains smoothly. ‘There are a lorra bad people out there in Spain,’ he continues. ‘Mostly immigrants from Eastern Europe.’ (Is he sure he’s in Spain and not Dover? And anyway, that comment is more that a tad racist - implying that the immigrants from Eastern Europe are, as a whole, bad people).
She wasn’t talking about the immigrants, Sammy continues. It’s the whole ‘costa del crime’ thing - English gangsters.
‘Coom ter dinner ternight and we’ll talk morrrrre about it,’ Mr Pig urges.
Well, Sammy concedes, never turning down an expensive meal, as long as he’s honest with her.
He will be, promises Mr Pig, as long as she can take honest answers.
Gaby the Grin finishes her mega moan by revealing that she feels Rob Dexter committed suicide just to get back at her (which is a selfish way of viewing the situation, but there you go). Anyway, she apologises for going on at length. She hasn’t once asked about Jacqui and Max. How’s the new house?
Oh, the house is fine, Jacqui replies. It’s just that Max objects to the childminder. She tells Gaby that Max wants her to bin off Rachel and hire a full-time nanny. Max says that Rachel provides no stimulation for the children, only junk food and television. And Max seems to be on at her about it all the time.
Of course, Gaby the Grin agrees with Max. It’s not just junk food and television, she attempts to explain, but a childminder should really herald the beginning of a child’s education. (Thus speaks that eminent childhood expert, Mrs Thaxter Parr). The Farnham children should be socialising with children their own age.
Jacqui sighs. She knows that, she admits. AND she knows that they should have places in playschool and that Harry should be in pre-school. (Then if she knows it, the dozy cow, why the hell doesn’t she do something about it?) But telling Rachel that she wasn’t needed was going to be difficult.
Look, Gaby says succinctly. She knows that Rachel’s Jacqui’s sister-in-law, but what’s more important? Rachel’s income or Jacqui’s children? (Very apt).
Dire returns to Sitcom House, laden with shopping to find Brigid busy in the kitchen finishing the beef stew. Immediately, Dire enters the kitchen, she asks Brigid if Marty’s been home. Brigid replies that he hasn’t.
‘HE’S NORRA HOME, HE’S NORRA WERRRK,’ wails Dire. ‘WHERE IS HE?’
Has Dire managed to phone Christy? Brigid asks. Dire admits that she’s been unable to contact Christy.
Well, Brigid surmises, if Marty’s anything like most fellas, he’ll be back when his belly tells him.
Dire tells Brigid that she’s got chicken pie and chips for tea - real good on the old cholesterol there - but Brigid’s not hungry. She’s sampled some of the beef stew she’s made for Ron. Phase 2 of Brigid’s job hunt is about to begin. But she’ll sort out Dire before she leaves for the hospital.
Dire’s wuddied that her mother’s doing too much gallivanting around after only just leaving hospital, herself. But Brigid protests that she feels fine. It’s her number one priority to get a job and a place of her own again.
Meanwhile, back at Bicker-Bicker House, on the piece of furniture where ALL the action takes place, Rabbity Ruth, enveiled in a skein of translucent snot, sits entwined in the slimey arms of Dan the Man. (This man looks so bloodless, it’s postively disgusting). Dan the Man whines about having to work that night. (In reality, if he had his way, he wouldn’t work at all. He’d make Rabbity Ruth earn their crust).
Rabbity Ruth snorks back some snot and whines that she wishes he didn’t have to werrrrk as well. Then they could go to see a film. (Hey, maybe SHE could go with Sammy!) Dan jokes that he could spare a hard hat and some boots if she wanted to go to work with him.
Rabbity Ruth makes a petulant little frown, and one feels if she were standing up, she’d stomp her cloven rabbit’s foot. Crumbs! She hates it when Dan werrrrks nights.
Well, Dan sighs, with a hint of smugness in his voice, knowing that he’s about to make her feel sublimely guilty, she’s stuck with that for awhile. But seriously, he adds, Luke WILL be OK with the hapless Sean.
Rabbity Ruth frowns again. She isn’t so sure, she says, dubiously.
Would she have given a second thought to Luke staying alone with Sean before the couple had split? Dan asks, logically.
No, Ruth admits, truthfully.
Dan hesitates a moment, about to begin his plan of subtle coercion. Er, Ruth WILL go abroad with him when he finds work there? He wants to know.
Rabbity Ruth allows herself an ignorant fantasy about sunning herself in Mombasa or Brazil.
Then the problem Ruth HAS to face up to, continues Dan, seriously, is Sean and his famous temper. He’s bound to kick off when he finds out that Ruth intends to take Luke out of the country to live.
Well, Rabbity Ruth promises him, delaying the obvious, she’ll just deal with that closer the time. (In other words, not tell Sean Luke’s leaving the country until she’s safely at the airport about to board the plane). In the meantime, she sighs, she wishes Sean would just disappear. (Well, the majority of Brookside viewers seriously wish Ruth would disappear.)
As Jacqui Farnham leaves the Parr flat and walks along The Parade, she encounters Brigid bustling along towards the bus stop, laden with a crock pot full of steaming beef stew. Jacqui greets her, cordially, commenting on the fact that what Brigid’s carrying certainly looks interesting.
It’s beef stew that she’s taking in for Ron, Brigid informs Jacqui. Ron’s complaining already about hospital food.
Jacqui nods, familiar with Ron’s habit of moaning. Anyway, she tells the older woman, Ron’s out next week.
On that subject, Brigid asks Jacqui seriously if the younger woman is aware of the organisation needed to care for Ron in the early stages of his convalescence. Jacqui nods, assuring Brigid that she’s already spoken with Ron’s surgeon.
‘Well, yes,’ Brigid continues, patronisingly, ‘it’s clear YOU may be, but, I daresay, Number 7 isn’t very organised. I don’t think it’s sunken in yet to your Michael how seriously ill your father is. He’s even struggling with the laundry. I don’t think he realises how prepared he’ll have to be.’
Jacqui’s somewhat at a loss for words at Brigid’s unsolicited presumption She pointedly thanks Brigid for letting her know the facts. Now the Dixons and the Farnhams can really be prepared.
Well, Brigid preens, she just wanted them to realise, and if they need any help with Ron, they’re just to let her know immediately. She’ll be glad to help. After all, many hands make light work.
And she bustles off in the direction of the bus stop.
Katie enters the lounge area of her flat to find Sammy and the slappable Louise gushing over a pile of new clothes lying atop the table. Louise urges Sammy to hurry up, as Sammy begins to freshen her make-up over the hordes of shopping. After all, Tania’s father was sending a car to pick them up in 20 minutes, she reminds her mother.
Katie frowns suspiciously and asks Sammy where she’s going?
Sammy continues to concentrate on her make-up. She’s going to dinner with Ted, she says absently. Then noticing Katie’s sudden look of disapproval in her compact mirror, she hastily adds that the girls are going along too.
And what’s all this? Asks Katie, indicating the piles of new clothing on the table.
Oh, shrugs Sammy, snapping her compact shut, Ted took the girls shopping.
So Louise IS going to Spain after all? Queries Katie.
Sammy finally faces her sister, screwing up her mouth in a moue of indecision. Well, er, no, actually, Sammy hasn’t decided.
Katie folds her arms and gazes critically at her immature, older sister as Sammy puts the finishing touches on her toilette. She reminds Sammy, sarcastically, not to forget to wear her bullet-proof vest this evening.
Again, Sammy turns to face her sister, sniffing primly that she’s going to dinner with Mr Pig because Mr Pig wants to suss her out.
‘Yeah, well,’ mutters Katie, ‘joost you remember that he’s MADDIED.’
‘Oh,’ huffs Sammy, ‘and joost whaddayer mean by that?’
Sammy HAS said previously that powerful men with money terrn her on, Katie reminds her, knowingly.
This is Tania’s father Katie’s talking about, Sammy says, stung.
After speaking with Brigid, Jacqui makes a beeline for Ron’s house, finding Mike in the kitchen with piles of laundry about. She promptly tells him of her conversation with Brigid, which prompts Mike to remark that the way Mike runs Ron’s laundry business and how he looks after Ron has nothing to do with that interfering old cow.
But Brigid does have a point, stresses Jacqui. Just exactly how does Mike think he’s going to look after Ron when Ron gets out?
Mike spreads his hands, defensively. Why is looking after Ron all down to him? He wants to know, petulantly. Brigid’s just narked because he knocked a job off her back. Anyway, he’s working flat out. Why couldn’t Ron just stay at Jacqui’s for a bit?
Jacqui succinctly reminds Mike that ALL Ron’s laundry business comes from the bar, the Health Club and The Shelf. This is Ron’s house, she reminds Mike, pointedly, and Mike and Rachel are allowed to live here, rent-free.
‘Now I’m willin’ ter do me share,’ she continues, ‘boot YOU owe it ter me dad!’
She glances down at the kitchen table and notices some half-eaten chocolate biscuits resting amidst the laundry on the tabletop. ‘This is disgoostink!’ She exclaims. ‘Broken bikkies amoongst the washing!’
Don’t blame him, Mike snaps back. Her kids had the biscuits there last.
Back at Sitcom House, Dire Muddie consults her watch and picks up the telephone.
Katie is meeting Nick the Builder at Bar Brookie for drinks and a meal that evening. As the couple take their seats, Nick whinges that he’s got Ray on his back all day long about finishing the bungalow. But never mind, it’ll be finished in a day or two.
Katie asks him where his next job is, but Nick admits that he doesn’t know.
‘Well, that’s oos finished then,’ summarises Katie, who’s ever optimistic ... Not.
No, Nick assures her, it just means that they won’t be able to meet up for lunch, that’s all. Truthfully, he doesn’t know when or where his next job will be, he tells her, except for a few weeks tending his bar in Ibiza.
So he IS going to Spain? Katie asks him.
Yes, but not for very long because of his dad’s illness, Nick replies. Katie must be due some holiday time, he suggests. Why doesn’t she come with him?
(Katie? Holiday time? Perish the thought! If her amount of holiday time, plus sick time, plus personal time is indicative of what the NHS allows, I want to work for them!)
He’s off the following week, Nick says.
Later that evening, Dire admits Christy Muddie to Sitcom House. As they walk through the sitcom lounge into the sitcom kitchen, Dire motions him to be quiet. Brigid’s upstairs asleep, she says.
Any coffee on offer? Christy banters.
Never mind that, Dire snaps, for once keeping her foghorn voice under control What took Christy so long in getting back to her?
Christy widens his eyes, innocently. He was busy searching all the pubs, looking for Marty, he assures her. Marty wasn’t in Bar Brookie or The Swan, he says. And Neville at The Pacific Star says Marty was there, but only until 8PM.
‘Droonk!’ Exclaims Dire.
No, asserts Christy.
But why was Marty avoiding her and not coming home? She wails.
Christy shrugs. Maybe it’s all to do with this bizzie stooff, he reckons.
Christy was with Marty lots the previous week, Dire remembers. What did they talk about?
Christy shrugs his shoulders again and lies. Work, he says, easily, footie.
Dire calls him a liar. She knows all about the phoney burglary he and Marty concocted. And she knows about him and Marty lying. Now she wants the truth. Does Marty have anything to do with those girls who went missing?
Christy looks her squarely in her bulbous eyes and denies that Marty knows anything about Imelda Clough or the other girl.
Well, what about the police interviews? Dire demands, frantically. Marty told her everything about ALL those interviews, except the last one. What happened?
Christy suddenly looks suspiciously evasive and turns away from Dire. He’s not about to say anything, he insists, only that some things are best kept between a man and his wife. Dire should have a chat with Marty, he tells her.
Dire begins to plead with Christy to tell her about the last police interview, but Christy refuses. He’s having nothing to do with this.
Nick the Builder is still trying to persuade Katie to come to Spain with him. After all, he urges, a holiday is the best way to get to know each other.
Katie shakes her head. It’s too early, she insists.
If Clint hadn’t been killed, Nick points out, Katie would be living in Spain now.
She means it’s too early in THEIR relationship, Katie explains.
Listen, Nick pleads. Katie says she’s ready to move on from Clint. Well, this is the chance for them to move on as a couple. Think about it, he urges.
She can’t, Katie maintains.
Then that’s it, snaps Nick.
Maybe if they’re together next year, Katie suggests, lamely, they can go then.
Late in the night, Gaby the Grin sneaks from the Parrs’ marital bedroom, wearing only a brief top over her flat chest, and some knickers. We see her in silhouette, creeping into the lounge area and opening her handbag. She pulls forth a bottle of tablets and pours out two. Knocking her head back, she downs two sleeping tablets - sans water, of course, no one in soaps EVER takes tablets with water.
Back at Sitcom House, the clock in the lounge now registers 1AM. Dire sits on the sitcom sofa, crying softly, as Brigid wafts into the room, wearing her boa-feathered dressing gown. Is Marty not back yet? She asks, rhetorically.
Look at the time! Dire sobs. He’s never stayed out this late before. Even Christy was covering up for him, she sniffs.
‘Oh, Moom!’ She cries. ‘I think it’s soomthink ter do with Imelda Clough! I can’t help it!’ And she collapses, sobbing, on Brigid’s shoulder.
Barry Woodward wrote this. Gordons aside, it was Jimmy-free.
Summary © 2002 Marion Watts
Brookside and all related materials are © Mersey Television 1982-2002